Waking up, it doesn’t seem like a new day, but Maggie feels better refreshed than ever before. Her limbs still ache, and she can’t walk on her own just yet, but her heart is at peace in this moment.

She’ll need Negan to carry her to the bathroom, where there is thankfully a toilet to support her. The memory of her falling on her ass in the snow came to mind, an embarrassing reminder. Still, she can wait just a bit.

She doesn’t want to wake Negan just yet. The man’s likely slept soundly in the handful of hours they’ve spent side by side tonight, but he could always use more.

Deserves more…

It saddened Maggie to know Negan will likely spend the rest of his life chasing an ever-elusive slumber.

On the road she was quick to notice his fretful sleep. Night after night the man was plagued with nightmares, many a recurring one from the way he’d abruptly thrash before curling in on himself.

But it reaffirmed that there was indeed something more. That he did indeed need her, just not in the apparent way she needed him.

One night the ground was getting too cold for Maggie. Negan noticed and took it upon himself to be her bed.

He endured the coldness of the ground that seeped through the cot as she rested peacefully atop him, his warmth a steady furnace that kept the cold at bay. The weather of the coming winter never seemed to affect the man in the slightest, but there was a change when she slept with him.

The nightmares, they never occurred again so long as they were together. His brows wouldn’t furrow, the pain that marred his sleeping face on so many nights never emerging when they slept intertwined.

Slow and deliberate in her movements, Maggie moves from the crook of his neck and rests her head upon Negan’s bare chest. As she settles, the young woman keeps his arms just as they’ve been all night long throughout the blizzard – flush to her small and lithe body.

And it dawns on Maggie then. The press and heat of his limbs – of his bulk and scarred skin feels…right.

Negan…he feels right.

The warmth begins to spread from her center – pumping into her extremities one heartbeat at a time.

Maggie braids her lower limbs with his as she studies his sleep-laden features up close. She flattens the palm of her hands to Negan’s broad chest lazily, her palms flush with the grey and dark hair that grows in abundance there.

She discovers that it both fits him perfectly and stirs at the unnamed entity living within the cavern of her deepest self.

The young woman dares not examine it. Not yet anyway.

Soon…

Maggie looks on from there, her eyes, lips, and nose mere inches from his as she leverages her upper half and…sees how he’s changed. How he’s aged, really – in the seven years that have passed.

Seven whole years. What a very long time.

For her a world of events happened; new people coming in and familiar departing. New families and acquaintances, allies and foes. Seasons changed and people died. Sickness, the undead, conflict.

A thousand different things occurred every day for the past seven years. And for Negan? The world left him behind, and only now was he returned to the fold.

His beard is thicker with far more white and gray than before – his hair longer with a similar pattern of color, too. There’s more wrinkles to his weathered face, but with him relaxed those are shrouded and eased by the softness of sleep.

Maggie remembers how stern and hard-set his features were in those first two weeks after the fall of Alexandria, how somber and grim the man was as they began their month-long journey here to Sanctuary. Negan never let himself off the hook, never lowered his guard even in sleep.

Always on edge. Alone in the world. I was there by his side, but he didn’t know. Didn’t know I was changing, didn’t know I was growin’ soft for him.

But here is not there and as Maggie contemplates all the outward ways they both have changed, she sees beyond to the semi-peaceful man held in her embrace.

Or maybe it’s that she’s with him, by his side as he is with her. Maybe a small hand pressed to his chest and over his heart all those days ago provided enough sustenance for an okay-night’s rest. But maybe it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the man before her.

Negan didn’t believe he deserved more. Of anything from her, really.

The man still doesn’t, and yet…

Maggie idly wonders if he does deserve more, too.

In this sacred sanctuary of past and present, Maggie’s mind flicks through faded memories, tiresome days and endless nights that never seemed would end.

The crunch of snow underfoot, the firm grip of his hands and the embrace of his arms in the long hours that began the day and ended them. Walking, walking and more walking. Sometimes he’d hold her closely to break into a jog or a sprint when there was a herd passing by, or when he thought he heard voices of the living in the distance.

Times when he hid her, sometimes beneath a pile of leaves or in a car when danger seemed to be close. He’d put himself in the line of fire, hold his gun closely and ready himself for pain and blood.

The man never complained, never made a sound as his boots wore out and his knees wanted to give in from all the weight he bore and carried as they traveled. Never spoke of fear or worry when the supplies ran low and the future looked bleak.

Maggie looks to her man then as she begins to travel down her road of memories, compares the man before her to the man of the past. Negan is thin, far too thin. The young woman brushes a hand over his ribs that jut out, feel a pit in her stomach at the sickly pallor of his bruised flesh.

Couldn’t say anything back then to keep up appearances, but now I’m definitely going to speak my mind the moment it’s time to eat. Can’t be starving yourself any longer, Negan. I’ll make sure you eat, get you back to lookin’ the way you used to.  

The man withered to ensure she bloomed. Kept her belly full while he toiled away on an empty one through the long hours and the cold. Maggie still wondered why. Always why when it came to the man before her.

Why…why do you do the things you do, Negan? Why do you fear the silence? Why do you look to the shadows in the dead of night like there’s a monster there? Why? So many whys. When did I become your angel? When did you surrender yourself to me, put your fate in my hands?    

In the beginning, Negan almost never made eye contact. Not unless the man had to. Not unless he was forced to. Touching her was akin to putting a hand into the heart of fire. Negan would flinch in those beginning days, wince to himself as he stripped her naked and wiped away the sweat and grime that clung to her with a wet rag when a bath wasn’t an option. When he had to help her relieve herself and all that it entailed.

Making camp was a silent endeavor in those days, always checking in on her through the corner of his eye as he prepared for nightfall and dinner. Those beginning days when she was unaware of anything, when Maggie wasn’t pretending.

She was a broken thing then, shattered into a million little pieces. But Negan, he held all the pieces. Second by second, minute by minute. Until hours turned into days and nights turned into weeks. Piece by piece he put her back together again. Slowly, but surely.

No, she would never be the same. That much was true, but Maggie had no desire to go back to what once was – who she used to be before she fell apart. Not when all that there was to go back to was pain and resentment; the nightmares and the anger.

Maggie curls her fingertips in to feel him, and the woman smiles at the affection that begins to bloom in her belly for the man beneath her.

Today Maggie’s finding it impossible to forgo the feel of his soft, long hair, or the memory of just how deep and worldly the lines on his face truly are up close. How the scars on his body form a map of his life, of the years he’s fought tooth and nail to survive. Maggie longs to trail a fingertip from one unique point of interest to the next and listen to the story of every single journey to his name.

Negan Smith. Who are you, my love?

The young woman ruminates about the scars on the inside that haven’t fully healed, too. Knows she doesn’t want to be one of those for him any longer.

He has enough already.

Had enough long before her and the rest came crashing into his world wholly uninvited, took and burned everything until only he remained as a reminder, a remnant of a haunting past.

Maggie turns away from those particular memories, has worn them down enough. Worn and creased, folded over a thousand times day after day until nothing has gone untouched – relived.

No more. I won’t be a slave to the past any longer. I must cherish what I have now and look to the future. Live here and now in the present with him. Live and love, with Negan. Make those dreams come true.   

At Maggie’s feathering touch, Negan exhales a low rumble and somehow manages to bring her body nearer; his inked right arm adjusts and wraps at the apex of her spine, his hand engulfing her petite shoulder in its expansive grasp. The heat of him from his bare chest seeps steadily in soothing waves, and Maggie shivers at this, shivers at the gravelly sound he’s emitting. 

She nearly whimpers as that familiar spark that’s brewed and ebbed in the presence of the man rises once more to the surface. A familiar heat begins to pool in her lower belly, and Maggie struggles not to act upon the surging impulse brought alive by Negan.

Lust, love and possessiveness – Maggie hadn’t felt such things in years. Never had she felt possessiveness for another, and as for lust and love…the young woman let those parts of her wither and die. Was content to focus on rebuilding the community she led, raise her son.

Those feelings she let wither and die were watered surely with time, reborn anew. Darker though pure, yet altogether stained with the blood of loss and pain, of fear for losing what she now has. Of losing Negan.

Despite the rising tides to her cravings for her man, Maggie takes joy that it is the togetherness that Negan’s subconsciousness craves – like hers. Admittedly it’s far different to the norms of their bitter past, and yet, this type of familiarity tempers her all the same. Like he always did.

Maggie ruminates that this is what intimacy must truly be, to hold and be held completely – to be close and to need that closeness much like the air in their lungs. Intertwined with just one person. With their only person.

Gently, the young woman runs a hand through Negan’s unkempt hair; she doesn’t weigh her actions, doesn’t want to any longer when it comes to the man she once regarded as her bitter enemy. Maggie only longs to reset his presence as something real and solid in the halls of her mind and the recess of her heart.

He swore to me. He’ll not leave me. Negan will stay, always…

The fear of his absence unfurls in her heart, a bitter taste on her tongue hard to swallow as a lump forms in her throat and mist swells in her emerald eyes.

Maggie shuts her emeralds closed as the image of his departing back rises to the surface, the wintry winds and snow enveloping him until he’s gone from sight entirely. It’s a feeble attempt to expel the horror of that image, the haunting of it to her soul.

And then in the bathtub, and again in the dead of night as I was asleep.

She wishes she could say it’s a false existence, a mirage of tormenting nightmares. But all three happened just the day before – mere hours ago. And though now she knew he would have returned, once doesn’t mean he’d return again. One mistake was all it took in this world they lived in for everything to fall apart.  

Never again. Where he goes, I go. Together.

Maggie’s inner words of reassurance do little to comfort her, but the longer she tethers to Negan physically, the easier it is to believe. To have him here before her – his arms around her and in her sight – are enough for now to allay her lurking fears.

Left to wade its feral wake, she instead immerses herself into what saves her, what put her back together again whole. And for Maggie, that’s the man who’s heart her hand rests upon. The heart she’ll soon take as her prized possession.

Negan Smith, your heart belongs to me.

Maggie looked then to the carved flesh inflicted by her hand and blade. Over his heart, the young woman had carved the first letter to her name upon his chest. Her blade cut deep as her fear and fury took hold – her possessiveness to keep the man who held her together in one piece.

I’ll break without you. I can’t live without you.

Maggie didn’t realize until now what she had done, that it wasn’t mindless slashes of her knife but rather the deepest intent of her desires that she’d carved permanently upon Negan.

The young woman licked the tip of her thumb, used her saliva to repeatedly wipe away at the dried blood to get a cleaner look at the damage done.

The crude M over his heart would scar permanently, but thankfully wasn’t deep enough to where it would need stitches.

Looking to what she had done, Maggie knew the satisfaction she felt was not normal, but nothing in this world was normal anymore. And the more she looked upon her mark on Negan – her man – the calmer and more relaxed she felt. The further her fears of being left alone in this world receded.

I’m sorry that I hurt you, but you hurt me. I won’t let you go. I can’t. You belong to me, and I belong to you.

Maggie leans in closer to the rugged physicality of him and takes note of the solace that these explorations of hers have given. They are both grounding and reassuring in tandem – so much so that even his expression appears a bit more at ease now than prior to her pawing at him.

Maggie knows it won’t last though. Negan is a heavy sleeper, but not so much that her featherings touches and advances in embrace can go on for any substantial measure of time.

Still, the young woman persists despite such and dances her fingertips through his beard. Somewhere deep within her Maggie wants to rouse the rugged man with these unfamiliar affections, wants Negan to join her in this waking space of theirs. To see those eyes of his blacker than coal open and for the first thing he sees to be her; his woman. To hear that husky voice of his call upon her name.

Driven by that want, that need arousing within her, Maggie presses and rakes her nails against the wiry hair of his broad and well-defined chest, tugs a little on the lengthier parts with her small hands and repeats the process a few times.

Eventually, the young woman brushes a knuckle across Negan’s slightly parted mouth and unexpectedly lets out a faint gasp as she does this. It isn’t until this very moment that Maggie realizes that Negan’s lips are…kind of voluptuous.

The young woman tries to stifle a giggle but makes the mistake of being just a decibel too loud with it; the sound, of course, results in Negan opening two heavy-lidded eyes. His coals meet Maggie’s mirthful emeralds and her failed to repress smile.

Negan raises a brow in confusion. ‘’Maggie?’’ The man stifles a yawn as he stretched beneath her. ‘’Something funny about my face, baby girl?’’

Maggie – feeling girlish – hides and burrows against his chest. The man’s got her feeling butterflies and all manner of carnal wants with that voice and eyes of his, and she’s too embarrassed to make eye contact any longer lest he sees it.

‘’No,’’ she mumbles as she returns her hand to rest upon its rightful place over his beating heart, unable to drag herself out of the pit of shame just yet at her pawing on the man in his sleep.

‘’Now c’mon, Maggie. Woke to you touching my face and laughing like a loon. Sun ain’t even out yet. Was I drooling? I know I don’t snore that’s for damn sure. Am I that ugly?’’ As he speaks playfully, his voice rumbles deeply from within, unfurling like the low crackle of booming thunder.

Maggie thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever felt and heard.

Two emerald-green jewels sharp and serious cut up to his and Maggie shakes her head solemnly. ‘’Course you ain’t. To all three of those things. I just…I guess after last night I just wanted to – I don’t know, f-feel you?’’  

Negan smiles at her small stutter, and Maggie’s stomach dances a spell at the small upturn of his lips. She suspects she’s gone tomato-red in the face from the foot she’s jammed into her mouth.

‘’I mean…I – you – we…’’

Negan laughs – actually laughs – as Maggie stumbles around with her words, and it’s just enough that it allows her to breathe and recenter.

‘’I mean with what happened last night, you ass.’’ Maggie poked him hard on his bruised ribs, just enough for the man to quit chuckling at her. ‘’Thanks for…staying. For doin’ right by me every step of the way,’’ said Maggie softly.

‘’Always,’’ said the man gently as he pressed his lips to hers. She leans into his kiss, aches for the affection and the warmth he gives.

Negan’s hand situates itself to cusp her jaw as the mood between them shifts. His thumb draws soothing circles against her fair skin, moving in steady paces. Maggie closes her eyes to just feel, and for a time he allows her to do just that.

In silence and in the warmth they provide to one another, to just feel.

The howling winds beyond the paned glass are muted by the beating of his heart beneath her touch, the cold clinging to the air unable to penetrate the warmth of his skin and breathtaking touches.

In pale light Maggie looks to the man whom she has studied in the early waking of the morning sun veiled by dark skies and raining snow, and in his arms and in this sanctuary, she feels she belongs.

I’m home. I belong here, she thought as she breathed in the leather and rain of his skin, coiled to his body with her arms and legs.

This moment in time was perfect. There was no pain or cold, neither the ache of hunger or despair. Weren’t fighting for their lives or running from danger. Maggie was content here and now with Negan, happy and at peace.

I won’t let this go. I won’t let what I have now end. I can’t bear another loss. I can’t stand to lose the last thing I have. He found me…

Negan would stroke the curve of her back with his large hand, his other running down her mess of curls and gently massaging her scalp.

The words ‘’I love you’’ held to the young woman’s tongue, threatened to break free at any moment. And yet, Maggie bit her tongue, swallowed those words before she could speak them into existence.

Not yet…

Maggie sighs, wants to enjoy the moment further but feels her bladder reminding her once more of its existence.

‘’I need to pee, darlin. Help me?’’

Negan stops his gentle ministrations and nods. There’s no embarrassment or shame to be had, the bond that exists between the two without limits. Unlike the bonds shared between others, theirs is wholly unique and singular. Born in blood and hatred, now tempered through loss and reliance; of their need and unspoken love to one another.

Negan has done so much for Maggie already and will continue to do so. Such was his promise to her; always.

He gently moves Maggie to the side as he get up. The young woman looks up to him then with a faint smile on her lips as Negan’s hands reach for her; coils around her small and lithe body before lifting her within his arms and to the bathroom next door.

Maggie was just beginning to get her feet under her, but her frantic rush through the winter storm and her crashing repeatedly on her knees set her back quite a bit. It wasn’t until the cold air hit her naked body that she felt the aching pain of her wounded knees and feet.

Negan gently lowered her onto the toilet, but just as he did Maggie yelped and clutched at his arms, surprising the man as she did.

‘’Maggie?! What’s wrong?’’ He thought maybe he had hurt her.

‘’T-the toilet seat is cold.’’ She narrowed her eyes as Negan began to grin but decided not to poke him in the ribs for it, tempting as it was.

Negan leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, murmuring a soft apology as he did. He handed her the roll of toilet paper from off the counter, holding a curl of her hair and moving it behind her ear as he did so.

Just as he took a step back, Maggie abruptly grabbed his arm.  

Negan glanced down at her trembling hand as it gripped him, and the man felt his heart break just a little more.    

‘’I – it’s stupid but…I’m afraid,’’ confessed Maggie in a hushed tone. ‘’I hate this feeling, but I can’t help it.’’

‘’Hey, it’s not stupid. You’ve been through a lot. And like I said before, I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together.’’ Negan grabbed her hand and held it to his lips, kissed her open palm gently. ‘’What is it that you need of me, Maggie? How do we work this out?’’

The young woman sighed with relief at his kiss, the warmth of his hands on hers. ‘’I get nervous when I can’t see you. The longer I can’t see or hear from you, the worse I start getting. I wasn’t like this before, but yesterday just…broke somethin’ in me. I can’t be left alone. I don’t want to be alone, Negan.’’

Negan ran his fingers through his hair as she spoke, took in her words and the implications behind them. ‘’Is it just being left alone in general, or…’’

Maggie shook her head vehemently. ‘’It’s you. Just you, Negan.’’

The man swallowed the lump in his throat as she looked to him after calling his name so achingly, his image alone reflected in those quivering emeralds. Negan nodded, squeezed her hand before letting go. ‘’Well, I might as well brush my teeth since I’m here,’’ said the man softly before playfully winking at her.

Maggie weakly smiled back at him. ‘’Thank you.’’

It was left unsaid, but he would stay in the bathroom with her so that she could see him. He turned his back to give her some semblance of privacy, opened the sink faucet and let the running water mask the noise of Maggie doing her business.

Not that he didn’t know, hadn’t seen everything already – but any bit of normalcy Negan could give back to Maggie, he would.

Normalcy…

The man looked to the half-empty tube of toothpaste, the single toothbrush they’d both have to share until another was found.

Better than nothing, right? For a while I was having to use my finger for a toothbrush for the both of us, and Maggie nearly bit it off one time when I accidentally went too far and triggered her gag-reflexes.  

Negan chuckled silently as he remembered the memory, one he recalled fondly now that those desperate times were behind them.

Just as he sparingly applied the toothpaste, the man glanced up at the bathroom mirror for the first time and saw what Maggie had done to him. Saw the M carved onto his left pec that burned as the cold air hit his naked wound.

The sight of it stunned him, and admittedly turned him on as well.

I love the kind of woman that will actually just kill me. Something sexy about the way she held that knife…

‘’Damn, baby. You sure did a number on me.’’ Negan finished brushing his teeth and approached Maggie after she called out that she was done, tapped near her handiwork on his chest and grinned.

Maggie scrunched her nose and snorted. ‘’Of course. I should have known you of all people would like it. And here I was worrying over nothing.’’

The young woman was afraid he’d get angry at her over what she’d done, was fretting the moment Negan looked himself in the mirror as soon as she realized he’d see her mark on him that would scar permanently for the rest of his life.

Our life. We’re in this together now.

Negan let out a short laugh as he helped Maggie over to the counter so that she could brush her teeth. ‘’Well, I don’t know about doing it again,’’ said Negan as he faintly touched the scar on his throat, ‘’but it is sexy in a way, don’t you think? You putting your mark on me, making sure all the ladies know I’m yours?’’

Maggie rolled her eyes as she took the toothbrush from his hand, but she didn’t deny his words. It satisfied the dark obsession in her heart, and the more she looked at her mark on the man, the more at peace she felt.

Mine…

Turning her head away from him, Maggie was left stunned at her reflection in the mirror. Just as Negan hadn’t seen himself for a very long time, neither had Maggie since the fall of Alexandria.

The first thing she noticed was her hair. Chestnut curls so long they draped past her shoulders. It had been years since she had her hair long, had almost forgotten what she looked like with it. As for the minor cuts and bruises, Maggie didn’t mind them at all. The young woman sported those more often than not and was long accustomed to seeing them when she looked in the mirror.

Such was the life of a survivor. Only difference this time around was the significance behind these wounds of hers. The reason why she got them and risked herself.  

For him. I needed to get to him.

Turning away from her injuries, Maggie took a closer look at her face. Her lips were slightly swollen from kissing, some puffiness still visible from the crying she did the night before.

Maggie didn’t see the beautiful goddess Negan proclaimed her to be, didn’t think herself anything special – and yet, the way he looked at her never changed. His heart beneath her touch never faltered.

His heart cannot lie to me.

She didn’t think herself beautiful, but then his words rung in her ears, the image of his eyes blacker than coal gazing at her with worship was painted in her mind.

I am beautiful. I am his beautiful angel. His goddess.

‘’Maggie?’’ Negan shook her shoulder slightly, concern marring his features when he saw she hadn’t moved to brush her teeth.

‘’What do you think of my hair, darlin? Do you like it the way it is, or should I cut it?’’ The young woman turned her head to look at him, her emeralds gleaming with the desire to know his answer.  

Negan reached out to thread his fingers through her hair, twining a finger around her curls. The silk strands wound around his touch, a warmth that pierced the cold of his flesh. ‘’I love it the way it is now, baby girl,’’ admitted Negan softly. ‘’Though the choice is yours. Long or short, your beauty stays the same in my eyes. Always.’’

Maggie beamed, a quiet radiance illuminating her face, the kind that whispered of genuine happiness at his words uttered softly. ‘’The way it is now…I love it too.’’

She saw it as a symbol of their journey, their bond and love that grew with time. Maggie saw it as a way of moving on, taking a step forward from the woman she used to be; embracing the changes not just in her appearance but in her heart.

Negan tenderly gathered her hair in his hand, his fingers navigating the soft strands as Maggie leaned forward to brush her teeth. With a gentle assurance, Negan’s touch held her hair back, a protective caress that wove a sense of intimacy into the otherwise mundane act. His other hand rested on the small of her back, his palm offering a steady support, a subtle yet firm anchor that kept her steady, preventing any chance of her stumbling or losing balance.

As Maggie leaned into her reflection in the mirror, the ritual of brushing her teeth took on a new depth. The mundane task turned into an intimate moment, symbolizing their unspoken unity in the simplest, everyday actions. Negan’s touch, both comforting and guiding, spoke volumes without a single word, a silent agreement that in the smallest of moments, he'd be there, ensuring her safety and ease.

He’ll always be with me. He promised.

Maggie breathed in the cold air, felt the mint in her mouth suffuse and travel down her throat and into her lungs. The young woman smiled faintly as a thought suddenly came to mind.

‘’I still can’t believe my toothbrush was your finger for a whole month,’’ said Maggie as Negan carried her in his arms and to the bed. ‘’You’d use your fingernail to scrape the gunk out of my teeth, and I would hate it when you missed a spot.’’

Negan chuckled, was surprised that she’d also reminisce about those times. ‘’Hell, I was afraid I’d lose a finger the longer I stayed,’’ replied the man teasingly. ‘’You got some chompers on you, babydoll.’’

‘’My teeth ain’t that big,’’ said Maggie indignantly just as Negan let her down. The young woman covered herself quickly so as to get warm again.

Negan smiled softly at her as he lit the candles atop the nightstand. He could have turned the lights on the night before and right now, but the man considered the output of energy from the lone generator.

It would be constantly running to provide them heat, and keeping the lights off would prolong the diesel. He’d rather save the energy for the heat and for the appliances to cook food and boil water.

Not out of the woods just yet. Almost, but not quite. Right now we’re safe. Maggie’s safe, but for how long? How much time before the next storm? The next fight?

Despairing thoughts rose to the surface of his mind, but before they could grip him and submerge the man, Maggie called out to him. ‘’Negan?’’ Just the simple act of her voice calling his name was enough to dispel the cold that wanted to flood his veins, ushered in a gentle warmth instead.

She called my name.

It was the gentlest thing, spoken softly with warmth and care. His angel was calling, and who was he to deny her?

‘’Coming, my angel.’’

Just as Negan was about to slide into bed with her, Maggie pushed out a leg and stopped him with her foot. He raised a brow as her toes pressed lightly against his stomach, holding him back and away from approaching closer.

‘’Say you’re sorry.’’

Negan broke out a smile and chuckled lightly at the sight of Maggie burrowed beneath the covers, her emeralds poking out and glaring at him crossly as her mess of curls were splayed out against the stark white of the sheets.

‘’I’m sorry you have big teeth, babydoll.’’ Negan let out an oomph as Maggie poked him hard on his bruised ribs with her foot.

In retaliation, Negan grabbed her foot before she could hide it and began to tickle away at her sensitive spots, eliciting a squeal from Maggie and her bucking hard – nearly kicking him in the face before the man let go.

Negan found his opening in the moment of chaos and took it, burying himself beneath the sheets and sliding beside Maggie in bed. Both of them were smiling and laughing, looking to one another and getting lost in the other’s eyes. Maggie had a faint blush to her cheeks that made Negan’s heart race, made him feel…alive.   

‘’You’re goddamn gorgeous, Maggie. You know that? ‘Specially when you smile and laugh the way you are now. It’s…you’re beautiful.’’

Just for you, she thought affectionately.

Maggie exhaled deeply as she snuggled up to him, coiled her leg around his waist. ‘’Even with my teeth?’’

He brushed his nose lightly against hers, kissing her on her rosy cheeks as he nodded. ‘’Mhm. Part of your charm, baby girl. You’ve got it all. That smile, those sexy long legs of yours…’’ Negan’s voice trailed off into silence as he held her gaze in awe, fell into her otherworldly emeralds painted with flecks of jade.  

Maggie smirked as she saw Negan getting lost within her eyes, knew her colored jewels did something to the man like no other. She never gave her eyes much thought, never had anyone comment on them or was affected so deeply until Negan.

He was the only one, and it was like magic to see the man get lost in her eyes. Maggie felt a surge of pride and confidence in her womanly charm every time it happened. Every time he pressed his lips hungrily to hers, his breath shuddering beneath her feathering touches. Felt her worth in his eyes longing and desiring for her, felt it in the way he held her day and night like she was priceless, like a goddess to be worshiped and revered.

No. Not like one. I am. I am his angel. I am his goddess. He said it himself. I am his.

The young woman put on a doe-eyed look just for him, stroked his broad chest with her hands to encourage him to go on. ‘’Oh yeah? And what else, darlin?’’ whispered Maggie sultrily into his ear.

‘’Your eyes,’’ said Negan lovingly. ‘’They’re so…expressive. So beautiful. The green of them remind me of that place in my dreams, the place we called home.’’

Maggie’s heart skipped a beat at the change of tone, at how Negan spoke so softly and full of reverence.

Our home…

‘’To tell you the truth, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to make it. Life grew bleak as I carried you in my arms, Maggie. It was hard to get up in the mornings, difficult to pick you up in the following days as my strength grew weaker and the nights colder. Shades of black and grey, life without color was all I saw then. But then I’d look down at you in my arms when I was at my weakest, see your green eyes looking up to me, and the sight of them gave me strength. You gave me the strength to keep going, baby girl.’’

Negan slowly breathed out the weariness of those grim days. Like walking on the edge of a blade, one wrong move would cost him everything. He set out to succeed when all his life he failed. To succeed in protecting someone when he never could.

This woman was his responsibility. He didn’t mind making a mistake and having it be the end of him. In war you learned a single bullet was all it took; one mistake and all was made void. But then it wasn’t just his life on the line. His mistakes didn’t just cost him, but her.  

‘’In a world without color, you alone stand bright and brilliant. Your presence, your feelings and heart, the very woman that you are – you light up my world, baby girl. In this world of darkness, you are my light. My hope. My angel.

‘’Every day I look up and see dark skies bleak and lifeless, but then there’s you, Maggie. I see a lone bird colored emerald-green stretch its wings and fly, and I can’t help but want to stretch out my hand and grab it. Grab the only color there is to this world. To hold you forever in my arms and never let go. It was then and there that I realized I had fallen for you. That I wanted you for myself.’’

That I love you…    

Negan held Maggie’s cheek, wiped away at the tears that began to fall from her eyes at his truth. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to express the ache in her heart at his confession. Of how he saw her truly, and his desire to keep her.  

And though he didn’t speak those words of love aloud, she could see it in his weary eyes that held to hers. Hear it in his words uttered so devoutly and sincerely. In the silent language of their souls, in every touch and every glance, his affection spoke volumes that no words could encompass, binding him to her in an unspoken promise of forever.

His promises that he swore.

Maggie yearned to speak, tried and failed repeatedly despite her desperate efforts. Negan’s words still rung greatly in her heart, made her eyes blur with tears all the more when he kissed her softly on her tear-stained cheeks.

‘’You don’t have to say anything, Maggie. I know,’’ said the man in a faint whisper. ‘’I know.’’

Maggie shook her head, let out a shuddered breath as she closed her eyes; willed away the tears that spilled.  

‘’No. You don’t,’’ whispered Maggie aggrievedly as she opened her eyes once more.

‘’What?’’ Negan was confused when he saw the hurt in her emeralds, the sorrow that bled from her seas of green.

The young woman clasped onto the hand that held her cheek tightly, her voice quivering as she said, ‘’Last night wasn’t the first time I thought about…ending it. After I saw that thing that was once my son, after I saw what they had done to my poor boy I –‘’ Her voice cracked with every word, revealing the depths of her anguish.

‘’I’m so sorry, Maggie,’’ whispered Negan, his voice heavy with grief for her crushing loss. The man felt a pit in his stomach as he could do nothing but watch as Maggie had to take a deep breath to collect herself – how tears welled up once more in her emeralds, reflecting the flickering flames of the candles by their bedside.

‘’I didn’t care about living anymore. I didn’t want to continue on in this damn world, Negan,’’ said Maggie in a pained tone that bled all her wounds into her words. ‘’Not when you found me and saved me. Not when you took me away from the place I called home for me and Hershel. But then…then something in me began to change. Seeing you go to great lengths to keep me alive; it changed me. When you fed me, clothed me and kept me clean…’’

Maggie cusped his jaw then, threaded her fingers through his beard and made sure he couldn’t look away. Holding his gaze in hers, her touch tender yet determined as she held him so, Maggie leaned in and brushed her lips against his.

‘’You changed, too,’’ said Maggie softly. ‘’You’re not the monster you think you are, Negan. I see the good in your heart, felt it in the care you gave me. Our pasts are tangled with darkness, there’s no denying that – but in each other, in us we’ve found something worth saving. Something worth believing in.’’

Their closeness intensified, and their connection deepened with every passing day and night. His solemn care and tenderness, the warmth of him that watered her withered heart and mended her tattered soul. From the moment he entered her life to now – from hatred to love – everything led up to this. To hold and be held. To confide with one another so openly and to need one another so greatly was a testament to the transformative power of their shared journey.

And it’s only just beginning. This…us…it’s just the beginning, thought Maggie as tears straked her cheeks.  

All that she said held true. The facts were there. Maggie was in his arms and in his bed, not because she was comatose and he needed to watch over her, but because the woman wanted to be here in bed with him. Maggie told him how she could have ended it without him knowing, killed him in his sleep, but hearing it and seeing it firsthand after Alexandria were two different things.

Last night she pressed her knife to his throat, but it wasn’t because of the past. Wasn’t because of his sin all those years ago. If it had been, then Negan wouldn’t have said a thing, wouldn’t have felt fear in his heart or pried the blade out of her hand.

Last night was unlike anything he ever could have prepared for. Negan felt fear in his heart because Maggie was crying. Felt fear because she was crying because of him. Crying not out of hate, but because she needed him.  

The facts of truth stared the man right in the face, her whispered words echoed in his heart, and yet…

And yet Negan didn’t believe it. Couldn’t when she spoke of the good in his heart. His heart black as sin, there just couldn’t be. ‘’You think you could change me, the way I changed you?’’ asked the man brokenly.

‘’I already did,’’ replied Maggie firmly. Amidst a howling storm beyond the paned glass, the beating of two hearts sang. The young woman leaned in closer to him, her heart pounding with fervor. Their eyes locked, eyes blacker than coal and hers emerald-green, and with a gentle yet passionate intensity, she pressed her lips against his. The kiss conveyed the depth of their emotions regarding one another, their love and longing, pain and sorrow.

Together as they were, all the cold and cruelty of the world could not take away the warmth of their love. Together, they could withstand anything come what may. Together, they could find the strength to keep going.

Both breathed roughly after they parted lips, and Negan looked to the young woman before him in disbelief that she was here and looking to him so endearingly. That she kissed him time and time again of her own free will.

‘’I can’t get enough of them,’’ said Negan longingly. ‘’Those jeweled green of yours that look up to me, those lips that press to mine so eagerly. I can’t get enough of you, Maggie. Even now I can’t, because it doesn’t feel real at all.’’

I feel like I’m dreaming, but she told me it’s real. This shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be…  

‘’This doesn’t seem real, and yet I can touch you.’’ Negan pressed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, moved lower until his hand ran down between her breasts and to her navel. ‘’Why is this real, Maggie? It’s as if every moment with you is a dream, one I never want to end…’’

‘’Then don’t let go of me, Negan. Right now, this…us…don’t let it end. You ask why this is real?’’ She took his hand in hers, held it to her heart racing with life and blooming because of him. ‘’It’s real because just as you need me – just as you see me as your light in this dark world – so too do I need you; see you as my light. I live because I have you to keep me going. You’re all I have now, Negan. I can’t live without you anymore.’’

I’ll break without you…

Negan searched Maggie’s long green eyes hoping for otherwise, to see that she could live on without him if need be. He searched and searched, but the man only saw himself in her emeralds. From beginning to end, only himself was reflected in her radiant gaze.  

‘’Why me of all people, Maggie? It shouldn’t be me.’’ To be her light, her man. To be everything she needed and desired.

The young woman looked up to him, a bit of fierceness in her emeralds at his remark. ‘’I choose, and I chose you, Negan. Should or shouldn’t, that’s up to me to decide.’’

Negan asked her then what changed. Why and how she came to fall for him just as he fell for her, to spare him time and time again when he gave her the chance to end it at every turn.

To spare him once more from death, to keep him in her embrace and say that she needed him. To see the change in her eyes not knowing how it came about, or what it meant to see it directed at him. Where there was once a molten fury and hatred, he now saw a swirl of emotions he knew to be love and joy and peace, and other colors darker that he couldn’t put a thumb on, and the man wasn’t sure if he wanted to assume.

Maggie nestled her head into his hand, wrapped both of hers around his strong arm and traced the scars upon his skin with light touches of her slender fingers. ‘’I hated you for a long time,’’ whispered Maggie tiredly. ‘’Had nightmares about you for years. And now…now you’re the only thing keeping them away, Negan.’’

She told him everything; how her hatred for the man consumed her long after the fall of the Saviors. How her mind turned to him even in moments of joy, walking down memories that would only make her bleed and hurt.

Joy was there for her to have, and so was peace, but Maggie never could let go. Never could let things rest as they were.

‘’I couldn’t let myself be happy. Couldn’t so long as I knew you still lived. It was just…I was just too consumed.’’

As she told her story, Maggie held to Negan like her life depended on it; was afraid he’d pull away. Whereas she had moved on from it and let the past finally die, Maggie knew it still haunted the man – that bringing it up might make him want to take a step back.

The young woman only loosened her death grip on him when he moved not away from her, but closer. When he told her in whispered tones that he wasn’t going anywhere without her, not anymore.

‘’I won’t hurt you again,’’ reassured Negan. ‘’I’m not leaving you.’’ He coiled his arms around her waist and brought her atop him, held her head to his chest and stroked her mess of curls; encouraging her to continue without worry.

The beating of his strong heart against her ear calmed her nerves beginning to fray, and Maggie let out a sigh of relief as she straddled him; left no space between them as she took solace in his warmth. 

‘’I didn’t cherish him, Negan. Hershel was the future, but I let the past consume me. I let my hate for you ruin the joy I should have cherished and focused on. Instead of my mind being on my boy, it was on you. And Hershel he – ‘’ Maggie’s voice quivered as her words trailed off, her eyes welling up with tears.

Maggie began to sob as the image of her son crawling towards her emerged in her mind. The haunting transformation from the boy she knew and loved into that thing – the cruelty her son suffered before death…

She let out a painful cry at the memory of Hershel thinking she was mad at him. That her last moments with him were of her making him cry just before putting him to sleep.  

Hot tears fell from her eyes and onto Negan as Maggie lamented, ‘’I didn’t even get to say goodbye. My son died thinking his mom was mad at him.’’ Her voice quivered with sorrow and regret, bled the pain of her loss into her words whispered brokenly.

Negan clenched his jaw as he looked up to the ceiling above, held fast to the trembling woman in his arms who lost too much.

He gently stroked her hair, trying to offer what little comfort he could. ‘’I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t go down like that, Maggie. I hope you know that. I never met the kid, but I know you raised him right. I know he wouldn’t want you to be sad, either. He’d want you to live.’’

Maggie suddenly remembered her boy’s last words to her just as Negan remarked how Hershel wouldn’t have wanted her to be sad.    

Don’t be angry mom. Please don’t be sad. I love you.

‘’I know,’’ whispered Maggie into Negan’s chest. The young woman presses and rakes her nails against the wiry hair of his broad and well-defined chest, tugs a little on the lengthier parts with her small hands and repeats the process a few times.

She does this to keep herself from breaking any further, from falling back onto that dark road of memories that would only cut her and tear her apart if she turned them over in her mind.

Maggie continued, her voice soft and filled with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. ‘’And that’s just it, Negan. When I’m with you, the pain fades. The nightmares don’t come when I have you. I ain’t sad, but happy. Can you believe that? You made me happy.’’

Tears still glistened in her eyes, but there was a genuine smile on her lips now where before there was only pain.

‘’So many times I was close to falling back into despair,’’ confessed Maggie, her voice shaking from the rawness of her emotions. ‘’But then you’d bring me back. Say a stupid joke or call me a pet name when we weren’t together yet, and it worked. I’m sad right now, and I feel the pain in my heart, but it goes away. You make it all go away…’’

A lone tear escaped Negan then, and the man had to bite his tongue to keep from spilling any more. Her tear-stained emeralds locked with his blacker than coal, and he could not look away. Not when she leaned up and wiped away the solitary tear that fell, her touch delicate and tender as she did so. Could not look away as her soft lips met his in a kiss that carried the weight of all they carried, the experiences they shared.

Maggie pulled back slightly; her emeralds filled with an intensity that mirrored the profound emotions held within her heart for the man before her. ‘’I fell for you, Negan, when the pain went away and the nightmares stopped. When I began to feel not despair, but happiness. When I felt peace, something I hadn’t felt ever since I was a small girl. I fell for you when I saw you for who you truly are.’’

When the hatred ceased to blind her eyes from the truth, Maggie realized that Negan wasn’t the monster conjured in her dreams. That the man who cared for her day and night, sang to her and danced with her beneath the sea of stars wasn’t that man who plagued her mind day and night, long after that tragic night.  

‘’And who am I?’’ Negan asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Maggie's fingers gently traced the lines of his face as she whispered, ‘’You are the man who gave me hope when I had none. Who healed me and showed me that life is still worth living. You ain’t the monster you think you are, Negan. You’re a man. Broken and flawed, but there’s good in you. A real monster doesn’t yearn to be good, wouldn’t even think to try.’’

Maggie rested her hand against his chest, over his heart carved with her M. She felt the beating of it, how strong it was and the comfort it brought to her.

‘’ I see the good in your heart, and that’s just it. You have a heart, Negan. The proof is in my hand. A real monster doesn’t have this.’’        

Negan couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and he let them fall freely, a mixture of relief, sadness, and joy. He pressed his lips to Maggie’s once more, affirming his promise once more to her to continue facing the world together, come what may. To stay by her side and never leave.

When they finally pulled apart, Maggie couldn’t help but ask the question that lingered in her heart since the beginning. ‘’And you? What changed?’’ Negan could see the unspoken questions in her eyes, knew exactly what it was she was asking of him.

Why he went to save her in the first place after she confronted him hours before the Whisperers attacked. Why he went above and beyond for her aside from taking care of her daily necessities. What changed for him to fall for her beyond what was previously said.  

Negan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he began. ‘’We were enemies, but I never hated you, Maggie. Never,’’ implored the man as he took Maggie’s hands into his own. ‘’Killing me or leaving me to rot in that cell, that was your right for the things I did to you – all the pain and hurt I caused. Even now I won’t ask you for forgiveness Maggie, because I know what I did to you can never be forgiven.’’ His fingers tighten over her shaking hands, trying to convey the depths of his regret for the suffering he inflicted, and his unwavering acceptance of the guilt he must bear.

‘’Negan I – ‘’ Maggie wanted to speak her heart on the matter but was lost for words. The ache in her heart only furthered her confusion, and the look in Negan’s eyes told her that there wasn’t anything more that could be said.

‘’Finding you the way I did – taking care of you – I didn’t do it as a way of atonement. Truth is Maggie, I was hoping you’d never know that it was me. Was hoping you’d wake up only when I was gone and my promise to you was kept and you were with your people. You have every right to keep on hating me regardless of everything then and now, and part of me was hoping that never changed. Because this – you…’’  

Negan’s voice wavered as he looked down to her mark over his heart – Maggie’s M, and back up to the woman who looked to him so desperately with anything but hate. Who looked to him with emeralds soft and tender; full of affection and heartache.  

The man sighed slowly. ‘’Life was meaningless to me after Lucille died. Everything I had was gone when you and the rest won. The world moved on without me as seven years passed, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to catch up. Couldn’t find a reason to keep going. When I gained my newfound freedom, I was lost. It didn’t mean anything to me, but then…then I had a reason. A purpose.’’

The man could see the gears in her mind turning as she took in his words, and it amazed him how sharp this woman truly was; left him breathless how she clung to his every word and understood the meaning inlaid within.

It both fascinated the man and scared him just how well Maggie had learned him.

The young woman bit her lip as the realization hit her. Seeing her change in expression, Negan laughed lightly before smiling weakly.   

‘’Taking care of you, feeding you, bathing you, and doing everything in my power to get you to safety – it gave me a reason to keep going. It gave me purpose, and a chance to do right by you. What changed was that my life now had meaning where there was none. You gave my life meaning, Maggie. You make me feel alive. I fell for you because you make me feel…alive.’’

His admission was sincere, and it hung in the air like a fragile yet significant bridge between their turbulent past and an uncertain future. A future Maggie made certain in her heart to come true.

‘’I’m glad it was you that found me, Negan. Glad I woke up when I did. I understand why you would want me to go on not knowing the things you did for me, but then I think of yesterday and now, of our journey together. Knowing all those memories would be lost to me, that I would lose you…’’  

Maggie’s emerald eyes, usually bright with determination, darkened like stormy seas as she whispered, ‘’I can’t lose you…’’ Her voice wavered at the mere idea of everything she would have lost, at the thought of Negan walking away for good and her none the wiser.

Negan’s chest tightened at her look of frailty. He'd seen her as a woman who embodied strength and resilience, but now he found himself struggling to adjust to this sight of her fragility. The man swallowed hard before gently pressing further, ‘’Back there in the bathroom, you talked about not being like this before. What exactly happened yesterday, Maggie? What happened to you while I was here fighting?’’  

‘’I felt the fear of being alone,’’ she replied after a beat. ‘’I felt the fear of losing you.’’ Maggie’s gaze shifted to the windows in the bedroom, her emeralds drawn to the frost that clung to the glass and the faint howling of the relentless wind outside.

‘’Seeing you disappear into the fog of snow, I hated it,’’ admitted Maggie vehemently. ‘’Hated that you left me. The cold was coming down harder and the day was growing darker, and the waiting…I kept counting the minutes, kept saying to myself ‘any minute now,’ and that you’d be back.’’

Maggie went on to describe the storm that brewed and approached, the acrid taste of gunpowder in the air, and the thunderous rumble of shots fired in the distance. She painted a vivid picture of how she imagined his death over and over as she endured the blizzard raging outside.

She spoke lowly of how she dreamt up his lifeless body when she could barely move her fingers, her voice cracking with the memory of the numbing cold that cut the inside of her lungs and froze her blood.

By the end of it all, Maggie was reduced to tears, her sorrow-laden voice echoing the grief she felt when speaking about the death of her son. Desperately, she held her hand to Negan's heart, pleading for him not to put her through such anguish ever again.

The dream of his lifeless body, it takes hold over her heart, and Maggie cannot bear to see him leave her ever again.

‘’Damn it, Negan. You’re all I have left.’’    

Negan moves to rub her upper back gently, soothingly. He tilts in, saying ‘’Oh, baby girl, it wasn’t real.‘’ Negan whispers the words gently, almost directly into her ear as he caresses her mess of curls before moving it away from tear-streaked cheeks so the man can get to more of her.

Maggie sniffs, sucking in a glob of clear fluid while he bears her weight for a moment before speaking. ‘’I can’t go on alone, Negan. I can’t do it if you die or leave. Please. I’m begging you. You’re all I have left. Everyone else just…dies or goes. When I was having that nightmare in the storm, all I could see was you dead on the floor. Your scarf was stained with your blood and the jacket had bullet holes in ‘em, and I wandered this godforsaken place called Sanctuary and then I smelled your scarf-‘’ The thought of the scarf and his scent breaks her, stops her from finishing her sentence.

Your scent was gone. I couldn’t smell the leather and rain of you. Just blood. Only blood and death.  

Hot tears sting the edges of Maggie’s emerald-green eyes, her air coming in heaves and spurts. Maggie doesn’t like to cry as a general rule of thumb, but with Negan the young woman felt safe, reassured as he rubbed her back to ease her into letting it all out.

Crying was never a thing she felt at ease doing, ‘specially if there were others around. Not that Maggie ever felt like it was a weakness to cry, but rather it was the inherent vulnerability of the very act itself that lay her hesitance.

To cry so openly in Negan’s arms was perhaps the greatest indication of her change. To expose that vulnerability and weakness to the man of her own volition and will.

‘’I’m here,’’ he quietly reassured. ‘’So cry. Scream if you need to. Let it out, Maggie. Just let it all out.’’

The young woman clung to him with all her strength as Negan began to sing softly, sobbed and cried on his chest as he stroked her caringly on her head. 

‘’I’ll stay with you, by your side,’’ he began to sing quietly, ‘’So close your tired eyes, and I’ll wait…and soon I’ll see your smile in our dreams.’’ Negan held back from wavering, from bleeding the sorrow he had for the woman who gripped his heart into the lullaby.

‘’I will hold you…and protect you,’’ sang Negan in whispered tones into Maggie’s hair. ‘’So let love warm you…’’

Negan felt his own tears run down as tremors coursed through Maggie, as she screamed into his chest and her tears stain his skin.

The man didn’t know much of anything at all about this woman who stole his heart and made him fall for her, but he knew pain and suffering. Knew Maggie had lost more than most. He played his part in it, and he would carry that cross till the end of time.

Negan knew those screams and tears were all that she kept bottled up, all the tears that never fell when they should have. Like him, she just kept going until she couldn’t. Until the weight was too much to carry.

He tightened his hold over her, tried to give what little comfort he could as Maggie let out everything. Maybe she was afraid of letting it out, of what it would do to her – but Negan promised he’d pick her right back up. He promised her this, and she gave him her trust. She gave him everything.

Slowly the tremors settled, and the crying evened out into silence. Negan peered down to see Maggie’s face now peaceful in slumber, her breathing even and steady, and her eyelashes adorned with glistening tears. Her little nose was reddened, and traces of dried tears marked her cheeks, but in Negan's eyes she was even more beautiful now, for in this moment, she was truly free. The weight that had burdened her for so long had finally been released.

‘’I’m here now, and I ain’t leaving.’’ whispered Negan gently as he ran his hand atop her curls, pressed his lips to her head lovingly.

Blinking away the last of his own tears, Negan looked down to the M carved harshly unto his chest, an angry red with faint bruising at the edges. In time it would heal, leaving a milky-white scar of her initial. He remarked on it lightly - even jokingly – when he first discovered it, but in this moment his eyes full of worry betrayed the truth in his heart now branded.

The man looked then to the windows at his side and saw the pale light dimmed and muted. It was always hard to tell the time, felt like seconds turned to hours. And yet, the years slipped by in the blink of an eye. One moment he was fighting in the war, the next happily married. One moment Lucille was smiling and in his arms, and the next…the next she was gone.

One moment he had it all, then there was nothing. Time was slipping through his fingers, and memories were beginning to fade no matter how hard he tried to hold onto them.

He tried to remember Lucille’s voice, the way the light would hit her honeyed-amber eyes. He thought he knew, but with each passing day the doubt grew a little more. Did he really? The picture once so clear and vivid was blurring, the colors to her portrait smudging until only a haze was left.

Like time, Negan’s memories of Lucille were beginning to slip through his fingers, leaving behind only the faint, enduring sensation of the happiness they once shared, like a gentle caress on his skin.

With time a void was birthed within his heart, and Negan didn’t know how to feel now that it was being filled. Now that his mind, heart and soul were consumed by the woman atop him slumbering peacefully.

Whereas he only saw amber, he now saw emerald green. Maggie’s figure and beauty were right before him, he didn’t need to try and remember. Didn’t need to worry about forgetting her scent or the warmth of her skin.     

Negan felt Maggie’s heartbeat then – a beat behind his own – and wondered all the things that led up to his being intertwined with hers.

He imagined all the different ways things could have gone differently, how his life and hers would have played out had Alexandria not fallen, or had he walked off Daryl’s punch and let Ford be the only death that night.

The thought of Maggie being with the man he killed – Glenn, it didn’t fill him with jealousy or discomfort. From all accounts he was a good man. A great man. And Negan didn’t feel any type of way. Hershel should have had his father, and Maggie should never have lost what was taken from her.  

And yet…

Maggie was his now, and he was hers, but it didn’t delude Negan into thinking he was what was right for her.

Negan wiped away the final tears that escaped Maggie in her sleep as he thought to himself, I may not be the monster you nor I thought myself to be, but I’m still a monster, Maggie. I have a heart, but it’s black as sin. A woman like you deserves a heart of gold, and the man I killed had one.

 

---

 

‘’…And so, we sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders. I looked to our savior then as we basked in the first and final rays of warmth, and I knew the truth in Negan’s eyes that few would live to see the end of the war. In part we all knew, but the man gave us hope. A true leader gives hope, and none gave us more so than him.’’  

Krešimir lowered his knife and fork, gazed toward the large window of stained glass glazed in frost and remembered the long winter – of snow falling amongst ash. He could smell the rot and burning of his homeland, of his people. In his ear he heard the laughter of dying men, the murmuring of fading chatter and the clinking of one broken glass to another as they savored the casks of wine.

Amidst corpses of fallen foes and cherished comrades, a band of brothers – saviors – sat and drank in that rare moment where the sun broke past blackened skies. The Croat saw it clear as day in his mind’s eye, and though he lived now, part of him died then. Part of everyone died in that war, his brother and savior more than most.

Buráz…soon, brother…soon. Salvation rests upon the shoulders of the living, but just like those forgotten days, those who remain are scattered and lost. The world needs a savior, and who better a man than the one who gave us hope? Who gathered us and made us strong?

Ill-lit candlelight painted haunting shadows across cracked walls, the only sign of civilization’s fall amongst the elegance of the Dama’s private quarters where they dined. A gramophone played a record, a mellifluous tune that filled the room with a haunting melody. Its scratchy undertones only adding to the eerie ambiance held.

The table at which the Dama and the Croat dined was adorned with ornate silverware and fine china, a stark contrast to the deteriorating surroundings among them. The chandelier overhead – once resplendent with crystals and lustrous gold – had now dulled, many of its precious gems missing, casting fragmented rainbows across the room.

Flickering candles struggled to hold back the encroaching darkness, casting elongated, ghostly shapes that danced to the music. The Dama herself sat at the head of the table; her beauty marred by the passage of time.

Her porcelain skin now adorned the lines of age, and her eyes once gentle and kind now bore a heaviness and coldness no less than the winters beyond the theatre she called home.  

As the gramophone played on, the Dama and the Croat continued to feast, their presence a poignant reminder of a bygone era of opulence and grace, now tainted by the creeping shadows of a world forever changed by the walking dead.

‘’You pay this man great reverence,’’ said the woman softly from across the dining table, her slender hand gracefully swirling the wine in her stemmed glass. ‘’From the tape you showed, I can see why you would have him be crowned King. Negan Smith…I see now…’’

‘’If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have lived to see my family. I had promised to return home to them once the war was done, and if not for Negan, that promise wouldn’t have been kept. For that he has my loyalty. He gave me more time with them before the end, and nothing will ever repay that debt owed to the man.’’

Krešimir chuckled lowly before sighing longingly. ‘’I pay him reverence for such, but the matter of power is more than just my debt and gratitude. You see, in my time I’ve known many a man who inspire fear. Who inspires respect. Negan…he was quiet. You wouldn’t think that at first glance, but behind closed doors…’’

The Croat trailed off before beginning anew. ‘’A silent man, but when he spoke you listened. He didn’t inspire. He commanded it of you. Fear, respect, loyalty. No problem was unsolvable, no trial too great. I saw this man perform miracles, Dama. I saw him gather a band of weak men and by his own hand turn them into an army who laughed at death itself. Men loyal. Men who gave everything. If he ordered us to die, we would without question obey. That was our loyalty, our trust.’’

The Dama took in the Croat’s words, sipped her red wine and hummed. ‘’You told me he wasn’t there to see the end of the Bosnian War. That the Saviors perished. A man of his caliber, wouldn’t you say he failed then?’’

Krešimir looked to the meat on his plate, frowned as the juices pooled out. It reminded him all too well of what he lost, of how easily humans could become just as savage as the walking dead. Out of bitterness and determination, he closed his eyes and ate the piece of meat on his fork; relished in its taste.     

Swallowing, the Croat washed down the meat with the bittersweet wine in his glass before opening his eyes. ‘’No,’’ refuted Krešimir lowly, his eyes grave. ‘’What you speak of are the costs to victory, Dama. Not defeat. You weren’t there to see what became of him, of the sacrifices each of us made. He was the heart. To us, the man was a legend. A living, breathing legend. The man could walk through hell and not get burned. He always survives. They killed him, and even then…even then!’’

The Croat leaned back and laughed, laughed so hard he had to wipe away a few stray tears. The Dama kept quiet all throughout, never ceasing from swirling the wine in hand.

When Krešimir settled down, he rapped his knuckle on the dining table and smiled softly. ‘’The memories don’t seem real, and yet…’’ He shook his head and sighed.     

‘’Truth be told, I thought he was just a figment of your imagination. You can’t imagine how relieved I am to know he isn’t,’’ said the Dama as she stood up from her seat. The woman moved to stand before the stained glass, her free hand reaching to feel the coldness of the harsh winter outside.

Krešimir shook his head and chuckled. ‘’Many things I am, but never a liar. Only cowards and the weak lie. The strong have no need.’’

The Dama turned back and raised a brow at the man. The Croat smiled in turn, saying, ‘’Negan. The man hates nothing more than liars and betrayers. He never employed deceit, believing only in absolute power. A grave mistake it would be to lie to the man, or to cross him. Those who did…’’

The Croat snorted out a chuckle. ‘’In the end they all learn. He’ll carve it into you so you never forget.’’ The man touched his ruined ear as he spoke softly, a gleam in his eye as he did so.

The Dama drank from her wine and nodded, a thoughtfulness in her eyes. ‘’Power…that’s what he brings, isn’t it?’’

Krešimir finished the last of his food and stood up, walking to stand by the Dama’s side. ‘’ Yes,’’ answered the man. ‘’Power, yes. But a true leader gives more than that. And Negan, what he gives is –‘’

‘’ – Hope,’’ interjected the Dama in a whisper, now finally understanding. ‘’Be it an illusion or the real thing, people will cling to the thread of salvation they believe only he can offer.’’ The Dama smiled and finished the last of her wine, but not before muttering, ‘’What a terrifying man.’’   

Krešimir nodded. ‘’The Federation – like all other groups that came before – will either fall or submit.’’   

The Dama frowned. ‘’But how can I be sure? That Negan will come to take the crown and lead us? That he’s still every bit the man you say he is? After all, the last you saw of him was years ago.’’

The Croat shook his head. ‘’Above all else, what Negan seeks is purpose. I’ve told you about Lucille. After her death, the man spiraled. He gave himself purpose in the Saviors to keep sane, but the ranks were filled with the weak. Cowards, thieves and liars. People only loyal to themselves. I know he will accept once he sees what he can do as King. Once he sees a people loyal and willing to give themselves to the cause. To him.’’

The Dama turned and leaned forward; her gaze locked on the Croat as the dim light of her room casted eerie shadows upon her weathered face. ‘’You're putting a lot of faith in him, Krešimir. Are you sure he’s still that man?’’  

The Croat’s eyes betrayed a glint of uncertainty, but his voice remained resolute. ‘’I understand your concerns, Dama, but I know my brother. His heart died with his Lucille, just as mine did with my Mia and our children. Power and purpose are all that is left for him, all he can cling to. There’s nothing else…not for men like us.’’   

The Dama’s brow furrowed in consternation. She kept hearing that word. Purpose. At first she thought nothing of it, but then it rang again and again in the Croat’s words. ‘’I understand power, but you speak of purpose. What purpose is that, Krešimir?’’

The Croat held a hand to the stained glass, softly pressing his palm to feel the cold of winter kiss his skin. Nothing reminded him more of those haunting days and nights more than the bitter harshness brought by it. He knew it to be true for his brother as well. The long bitter winter, where the blood of men stained the pale white of snow.

 The Croat shifted his gaze then to the woman beside him, his eyes burdened and bleak. ‘’The only purpose monsters who yearn to be human have, Dama.’’ whispered Krešimir gently. ‘’Redemption.’’

The older woman glanced to the man whose features were shrouded in flickering shadows. She heard the pain in his voice when he revealed the purpose him and Negan clung to. Like the wine she so carefully savored, she drank in his expressions and the meaning behind his words – carefully savored the intricacies held beneath.  

The word ‘’redemption’’ seemed so foreign to her now, after all she had been through and what the world had turned into.   

The Dama hummed slightly and returned to her seat at the table. Krešimir’s answer was enough for now. There was still plenty time, and the situation at hand was far from dire. A leader to unite them wasn’t needed just yet.

Krešimir’s words and the evidence he displayed had convinced her that Negan Smith was indeed the perfect candidate, but the Dama would never leave the fate of the kingdom built to be entirely dependent on whether or not they could convince Negan to lead them into a new era.

To do so would be foolish, and the older woman was no fool. They of course needed a leader who knew how to wage war and win, who possessed the charisma and charm to lead and unite others. 

But the war with the Federation and the other settlements far North and South were far on the horizon. There was still time to consider other options and to make plans in case Negan refused, or if the man no longer lived.

She had spoken in length with the Croat about keeping tabs on Negan, or to bring him in sooner, but the man was adamant in that doing so would be a grave mistake. Only when the time was right, and the kingdom was ready for their King.

The Dama was broken out of her reverie as Krešimir sat back down at the table. The man leaned forward; his hands clasped together as he spoke. ‘’You know, I had estimated that the virus wiped out at least seventy-five, perhaps eighty percent of humanity – but that was early in the outbreak. When we were ignorant and naïve. It’s been years now, and we can be certain that less than five – even three – percent of mankind is all that remains.’’

The man chuckled at the very thought. He felt it absurd – like a bad joke – even though it was the truth. Krešimir drank from his glass to whet his throat. ‘’Once billions, and now…’’ The Croat moved to put down his glass but changed his mind at the last second. He drank the rest of the wine and let out a breath of satisfaction.

‘’No one thought this would be their future. Even those doomsday preppers never thought the day would come,’’ replied the Dama with some amusement to her tone.   

The Croat nodded in agreement. ‘’Hundreds of millions became sick and died. Whole cities of living people were then suddenly overturned. Those beginning days when all hell broke loose were truly something else…’’ His voice trailed off with a trace of remembrance, an almost dark fondness for the havoc wreaked.

How quickly civilization falls. Men so quick to turn into beasts, giving in to their dark desires rather than securing their survival.

It was a wicked thing to behold for the older man. How men young and old would seize the nearest woman and fall into a crazed state. How the gentlest of looking fathers turned cruel and mothers fell to disarray, with some even abandoning their children or kin when it came to their own lives. Rape, murder, insanity. Every man for themselves.

‘’In the beginning we believed we were not infected, somehow special in that we were spared from the virus,’’ whispered Krešimir darkly. ‘’And that only if bitten we would then get it. Now however, the truth has come to light that none were spared.’’

The Dama turned to look at the flickering flames, looked back on how everyone thought themselves to be immune in a way. But then people died of natural causes, and they turned. They weren’t bit, and yet…

‘’It’s in all of us. In our very blood,’’ said the Dama as a droplet of wine cascaded down her stemmed glass. The color of it trailed, staining the glass before pooling at the bottom. Her voice nearly faltered, but she gripped the stem in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

‘’And there lies the mystery.’’ stated Krešimir. ‘’Why have we not turned like everyone else did on the day of the outbreak? Why is the virus within us dormant? A correlation with immunity is…unlikely. We are still susceptible to other diseases and can just as easily fall ill, and contact with saliva or blood from the undead or living whose virus is awakened will turn us without fail.’’

The man shook his head and scratched at his stubble. ‘’Airborne, waterborne, foodborne, this pathogen traveled in every way possible. It’s in everything, in the very air we breathe right now. And yet somehow…somehow, we haven’t turned.’’

There was a hint of paranoia in the Croat’s eyes as all sorts of theories emerged within his mind. Unfortunately, the virus and its intricacies were far from his specialization. As a scientist and adept engineer, he could only distantly observe and make some conclusions of his own.     

Was it manmade? Nature’s revenge? If someone made it, who?! For what reason? These were the thoughts that whirled furiously within his mind. As a man cursed with knowledge, these thoughts tormented his nights just as frequently as his nightmares, leaving him haunted by the uncertainty of it all.

Before he could fall deeper into his crazed state of reflection, the man felt a warmth upon his hand. Raising his lowered head, the Croat found that the Dama had placed her hand atop his, gently squeezing to wake him up.

‘’These are things we may never know, Krešimir. It’s better to devote your thinking on what needs to be done now and in the near future.’’

The man opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so one of the guards knocked on the door thrice. There was a matter that required the Dama’s attention.

Krešimir let out a silent sigh as the Dama gracefully rose from her seat, letting go of his hand. ‘’I trust you’ll see yourself out, Krešimir.’’

He nodded. ‘’Of course, and thank you for inviting me to dine with you today. If you’re free next week, perhaps you could join me in the Garden for a meal? To return the favor, of course.’’

The Dama simply smiled softly and nodded as she left the room. As the door closed shut, inaudible voices could be heard distinctly before fading away.

Sitting alone at the table, the Croat lowered his head and closed his eyes as the record playing on the gramophone ended, leaving the man in the silence of flickering shadows and ill-lit candlelight.

His mind wandered to a time where the screams ceased, where the howling wind and the cold were all that remained.

A young man was painted in his mind, a hardened soldier who promised to return home. He sat on the eaves of the cruelty of man, watched as the rain of shells fell with thunder and fire. On the surface of waters danced the reflections of fire in the night, stained red by the blood of men turned cruel and mad.

And in the horizon stood their savior, his brother amongst a mountain of corpses. More than just a man, than a soldier. He was shaped for the fury, for the dark. And upon all that was endured, their savior was promised a glorious ending.

But the price paid for power was too great, and in the arms of endless pain and anger ended the story of their Savior.

Yours should have been a hero’s welcome, buráz. Yours and ours should have been so much more for the sins that stain our souls.

‘’You couldn’t possibly hope to understand, Dama,’’ uttered Krešimir beneath his breath. ‘’But we are cursed men, Negan and I. Cursed with damnation. For the things we have done, we yearn for salvation. We died in the war, years back. The cold is all we feel, and yet…for a brief moment, love warmed us.’’

 

---

 

From start to finish Negan never let himself close his eyes and drift off to sleep. Couldn’t, not when his head was so full of thoughts.

Jewels of amber and emerald, of how everything that occurred in his life led to this moment in time; of him being with Maggie. He thought of her boy, the kid named Hershel. Thought about how it was him of all people who had put her son to rest, lamented the fact that he couldn’t bury the boy for his mother.

Negan thought about the young woman atop him, too. Her birthday was coming up, making her soon to be thirty. He had done the numbers in his head, was stunned to know her life ended before it could even begin.

The Outbreak was nine years ago, which would have made Maggie twenty, or twenty-one. Barely an adult, barely old enough to drink and smoke.

1988…I was a year into the Army by then, fighting in wars not mine when she was just born…

That thought alone shocked him to his core, how young Maggie really was compared to him. He’d practically lived half his life by the time the world fell, but hers was just about to begin.

Should have…It should have…

Looking to Maggie resting peacefully atop him, Negan felt sorrow grip his heart. A dull ache that reminded him of her fear. He didn’t know how much she lost, couldn’t even begin to imagine – but he knew what it did to her.

Just as men who return from war develop demons, so too did Maggie from all her accumulated loss. The death of her son was the final straw; the breaking point. Somehow it was him who’d managed to bring her back, but she was scarred.  

Her skin was smooth and unblemished, but on the inside she was just as scarred as he was. Just and wounded and bleeding. Maggie came back but with a demon of her own; she was afraid of being alone, and that fear consumed her.

Afraid of being alone without me. Of me leaving her.  

There was a small hope that it wasn’t really about him. That maybe once Maggie got to her people and was finally surrounded by family and friends, she wouldn’t need him. He carried that hope when he asked her, but then the way she shook her head vehemently flashed in his mind. How she said, ‘’It’s you. Just you, Negan.’’

The look in Maggie’s dark emeralds as she gazed up at him then in the bathroom told him the undeniable truth. She could be surrounded by all who loved her, but if he wasn’t there…

I wish that I had known in that first minute we met the unpayable debt that I would forever owe you. Had I known that night…I would have walked away. I’d have walked away, Maggie.

Eventually, those rippling thoughts settled into nothingness. His mind turned blank as the gentle rhythm of Maggie’s heartbeat and the slow inhale and exhale of her breathing became the sole focus of his attention.

From the slight upturn of her nose still faintly red from crying to the three little moles that adorned her neck, to even the fluttering of her long, dark eyelashes as she dreamed; Negan took it all in, watched breathlessly in wonderment.

She’s beyond beautiful, he thought with a heavy heart.  

‘’You’re everything to me, Maggie.’’ whispered Negan softly into her mess of curls.  

The early morning had gone and passed, but he let her sleep. All those bottled-up emotions were finally wrung out, and she needed the rest.

Negan kissed Maggie lightly on her head as he moved to get out of bed and put on his clothes. He shifted to gently slide Maggie off of him, hoping to give her a few minutes more before waking her up for lunch, but the moment she was off of his chest put a quick end to that notion.

Maggie woke up with a start. Her eyes snapped open, filled with panic and gasping for breath as she reached out to grab him, her hands trembling with fear. Negan hurriedly leaned down and hugged her, his strong arms enveloping her trembling body, and he could feel her heart racing beneath his touch.

As he held her close, he stroked her hair gently, his fingers soothing and reassuring. Maggie's fear began to ebb, replaced by a sense of security in his embrace. He continued to comfort her, whispering, ‘’Shh. I’m here, baby girl. You’re not alone. I’m right here.’’

Maggie's arms tightened their hold around his neck, seeking solace in his presence. Negan pressed his lips to her forehead, his kiss warm and tender as he whispered, ‘’You're not alone, Maggie. I’ll never leave you alone. I promise. Always.’’

As Maggie's breathing began to steady, he continued to reassure her, ‘’I wasn’t leaving, just going to put on some clothes.’’

Letting out a shuddered breath, Maggie scrunched her nose and asked, ‘’Why didn’t you wake me up before gettin’ out of bed? Almost gave me a damn heart attack,’’ muttered the young woman with a bit of resentment.  

‘’Just thought you could use a few minutes more,’’ replied Negan with a wince. ‘’You looked so peaceful I felt bad for having to wake you up at all.’’

Maggie pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply before whispering, ‘’Don’t be. I want to wake up with you, Negan. Not with you already out of bed. Can you do that for me, handsome?’’

She was doing it again, holding his gaze with hers – entrancing him with her dark, green eyes. By the grin forming on her lips, Negan knew that she knew just how weak he was to her precious emeralds.

All Negan could do was nod dumbly, earning him another kiss and the laughter of his angel.

Maggie put her hands on her chin and watched as her man dressed himself, even choosing what Negan wore for the day. She liked the dark blue of his button up, but it was unfortunately torn and damaged.

She chose a long-sleeved shirt, a deep shade of charcoal gray as a replacement, and a light jacket for him to wear, ensuring he would stay warm in the winter chill.

Unfortunately for her, Negan hadn't hidden away a stack of women's clothing for her to choose from. Though perhaps that was for the best, else Negan might be facing some very serious questions as to why he did have them on hand.

Just the thought alone wasn’t very pleasant to think about, but thankfully it was only that; an unpleasant thought.

With a soft smile, Maggie ran her fingers over the fabric of the shirt she'd picked as Negan put on his pants, appreciating the small ways she could take care of him and make their world a little brighter amidst the darkness.

Negan turned to her, raising a brow at her choice. ‘’I like your style, baby girl,’’ he said with a grin, his eyes dancing with amusement. He slipped into the shirt she had selected, and the gray fabric clung to his towering frame, making her heart skip a beat. ‘’Cozy. Though I gotta say, being naked with you is much more comfortable.’’

Maggie rolled her emeralds and grinned back at him; her eyes soft with affection. ‘’I have to make sure you're looking your best, even in this world, don't I?’’

Negan hummed in agreement as he chose a deep, dark red flannel shirt for her to wear along with the rest of her clothes.

Maggie suddenly remembered his compliment on the road, of her looking good in red – that the color suited her. She smiled to herself thinking she loved him in blue, and Negan loved her in red.

As that thought lingered in her heart, her man approached with her clothing. In an intimate, unspoken dance of care and need, Maggie gracefully lifted one leg at a time for Negan to slip a pair of panties through. The laced fabric in his hands slowly moved up her ankles and thighs, and the young woman’s stomach danced a spell as she felt Negan press his lips tenderly along her skin.

His kisses moved with a deliberate, gentle pace until they finally came to a rest atop Maggie’s bruised and scabbed-over knees, a silent reassurance that he was there to heal her in ways beyond the physical.

She had asked him the night before if he could continue to care for her as he had done before, and Negan hadn’t forgotten. Already it was routine, ingrained in him to dress the woman before him, to provide the care and protection she needed.  

Moving behind her, Negan reached for the bra placed on the bed, but Maggie shook her head with a soft smile, deciding to embrace comfort instead. They weren’t going anywhere, and it was only them, after all.

Just me and you, Negan.

He helped to slip over the flannel shirt he had chosen for her. As it was Negan’s clothing she wore, the shirt was a few sizes larger, showing off her collarbone and more of her cleavage.

The soft, plaid flannel was thick, warm and comfortable. Her old jeans were a lost cause after the storm she traveled through to get to Negan, and the wounds on her knees would open up from the course fabric if she did wear them.

Understanding this, Negan helped her to slip on a pair of sweatpants. The cotton lining on the inside felt soothing against her skin, offering a welcomed reprieve from the irritation of her injuries.

With the both of them finally dressed, Negan leaned over to where Maggie sat at the edge of the bed and held her chin. ‘’You’re a beauty, Maggie,’’ whispered the man, his voice brimming with love and worship.

As he coiled one arm around her back and another beneath her legs, the young woman batted her lashes and smiled. She’d never get used to the sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her as he spoke so reverently.

Maggie, feeling a warmth in her heart, leaned into his touch, a soft smile gracing her lips. She'd never grow accustomed to the way he looked at her – the reverence in his voice – as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

I am. Just as he is all I have left, I am his.

‘’Mhm. ‘Specially when I’m wearing your clothes, ain’t that right?’’ She rested her head on Negan’s chest as he swept her into his arms, a blush gracing her cheeks as she felt the low rumble of his laughter resonate through his chest. Top of Form

‘’What can I say? You look sexy wearing my clothes, baby girl.’’

Baby girl…

Maggie let out a short laugh as a thought came to mind. ‘’You know I used to hate hearing you call me that. All them pet names you called me back then really made me consider just getting up and punching you in the face.’’

Negan gazed down at her and grinned. ‘’And now?’’

The young woman let out a sigh of contentment before kissing her man on his neck. ‘’Now I really am your baby girl,’’ breathed out Maggie lovingly.

Your angel.

‘’And I love it. Can’t get enough of it, really,’’ added Maggie after a thought. She pawed at his chest affectionately as Negan brought her into the kitchen.

‘’I’m glad,’’ said Negan as he sat her down at the dining table, his voice warm with a hint of a chuckle. ‘’You've become my whole world since then. My baby girl, my angel, and every damn thing in between.’’

Maggie opened her mouth to speak in turn, but the young woman’s stomach spoke before her mouth could. The low grumble brought out a smirk from Negan, earning him a sharp glare.

Negan leaned in, his voice lowering to a warm, teasing murmur, ‘’Now, how about I whip us up something real nice for lunch? You just sit tight and rest your pretty ass.’’

Maggie snorted, scrunching her pretty little nose at him playfully, but she didn’t refute. Not like she could get up and kick his ass if she wanted.

Not yet at least, thought the young woman amusedly.  

With a wink, Negan moved to the stovetop, his soft laughter mingling with the sounds of clinking pots and pans. Maggie lounged back in the chair, a small smile playing on her lips. She watched him move around the kitchen, a different sight to that of him preparing food on the campfire or eating out of cans.

It was Maggie’s first time seeing the kitchen. It was spacious enough, most likely a privilege of being the leader that his quarters were an all-in-one. So far she had only been in Negan’s bathroom and bedroom, much of which was hidden away in the darkness of the night.

Her eyes wandered around, taking in the sight of the place. There was dust in many places, cobwebs in some corners. His place hadn’t been touched in years, and from the looks of it the people they encountered the day before hadn’t come here yet.

Maggie’s wandering eyes stopped still at the turned on lights of the stove, the clicking of the burner until a flame emerged.

‘’I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you get this place going? The plumbing and the electricity, did you…’’ Her sentence trailed off questioningly as Negan opened a few food cans with his knife.

‘’After you passed out on me last night, I carried you with me to the generator room. I knew if I didn’t get the heater going, we would die from the cold. You especially, Maggie. If I didn’t draw a warm bath for you when I did, I’d have lost you.’’

She couldn’t see his face now that his back was to her, his hands busy preparing lunch, but she could hear the emotions in his voice. Knew how much he really cared for her. It warmed her heart something fierce.

Negan sighed, shaking his head. ‘’It was reckless of you, going through that blizzard the way you did, baby girl. But…if you hadn’t…’’ He thought back to last night, how by the time he would have returned to Maggie in the car she’d have already been dead from the extreme weather.

Maggie bit her lip. ‘’You couldn’t have known what would happen, Negan. Besides, I weighed you down by pretending I wasn’t conscious of what was happening. If I was there from the very beginning then everything would have been different. I…’’

She sat up a little straighter, her voice a gentle murmur, ‘’I was scared. I didn't want to lose what we've found here…with each other.’’ She fidgeted with her hands, her eyes tracing the outlines to his broad shoulders. ‘’I didn’t want to lose you, Negan.’’

It was beginning to worry her something fierce when Negan just stood there motionless; how she couldn’t see his face, his eyes. She was going to voice it, to get him to turn and look at her, but then Negan glanced back at her from his shoulder.

The look in his eye made her heart ache. ‘’I made you a promise that I’d return, Maggie. Always. Whether I knew or not, nothing else matters but that.’’

Maggie's eyes softened, her lips curling into a faint smile. ‘’And you’d have kept it, handsome. You always find a way. If I hadn’t been so worried, I’d have waited. And before you say anything else,’’ interjected Maggie just as Negan turned to argue, ‘’You left me the keys and the supplies, remember? You left me everything save for your knife and gun, and even then you left me with a full chamber while you only kept a few spare bullets. I’d have kept warm, turned on the car. I wouldn’t have died, Negan.’’

Maggie’s gentle, yet firm tone made the man shut his mouth closed. Negan's shoulders relaxed as a faint chuckle escaped him. He resumed cooking, the sound of sizzling pans a comforting backdrop to their conversation. ‘’Stubborn as ever,’’ he muttered, his tone a mix of fondness and exasperation.

‘’Don’t forget sharp, darlin.’’ added Maggie with a smirk.

Negan nodded, a lopsided grin forming as the aroma of spices and sizzling ingredients filled the air. ‘’Oh, I haven’t forgotten, baby girl. Fierce, stubborn, and sharp. Loving you is like playing with fire. I’ve got a blessing and a whirlwind all rolled into one, don’t I?’’

A playful glint danced in Maggie's eyes. She loved the way he described her. Made her feel warm and treasured at the affection to his tone. ‘’And you wouldn’t have me any other way,’’ said the young woman for a fact.

The man’s chuckle blended with the rhythmic sounds of his cooking. ‘’No,’’ admitted Negan softly. ‘’Not for the world.’’

As the meal took shape, Maggie couldn't help but admire Negan's adeptness in the kitchen, a stark contrast to the rugged survivalist image she'd known him for. She leaned closer, watching his movements with genuine curiosity.

‘’You never fail to surprise me, you know that?’’ she remarked, her gaze flitting between the makeshift ingredients and the man at work.

Negan shot her a grin over his shoulder. ‘’You and me both, baby girl. You and me both.’’

Negan looked to the stew he was making. Some preserved vegetables and canned chicken that had been part of his stash of supplies. He’d hidden a fair number of stashes, with this one being hidden in the floorboards of another room on the second floor.

The man had considered Maggie’s situation. She was injured, and what she needed was a meal easy to stomach, something with protein that could offer warmth and sustenance.

‘’Now I’m sure you know by now I’m not the greatest cook in the world, but you can’t go wrong with the basics,’’ said Negan as he ladled the pot of stew into two wooden bowls.

Maggie laughed as Negan came her way. ‘’Thankfully not, but as soon as I can stand on my own two feet I’m taking over the cooking from now on, before we both get food poisoning.’’

Negan winced when he remembered the time Maggie got an upset stomach because of his cooking. It wasn’t a pretty scene when it came to cleaning her up, to put it lightly.

‘’That…would be for the best,’’ admitted Negan sheepishly as he set down her bowl.

Maggie looked to the wooden bowl full of stew and felt her stomach call in hunger as the steam and aroma wafted into the air. ‘’Your stew is good though. The rabbit one you made awhile back was actually nice, ‘specially on a cold rainy day as it was.’’ She looked to Negan as he sat down beside her, carrying his own bowl and two bottles of water.

The young woman saw her man smile fondly in remembrance. ‘’I remember that day. We slept in the car, and I had to put a tarp over our heads so that we could eat. Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?’’

Maggie shook her head. ‘’Feels like yesterday to me, actually.’’ At that, Negan reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, before he moved to eat.

A smile grew on Maggie’s lips, but it faltered before it could fully form. The spoon held in her hand was motionless despite the hunger urging her to eat, but it just didn’t feel right anymore. Something felt out of place.

Maggie’s furrowed brow and growing frown was quickly picked up on by Negan, his own spoon stopping before he could put the food to his lips.  

‘’Maggie? What’s wrong, baby girl?’’

A thought occurred to her, causing her cheeks to flush with embarrassment. ‘’This feels…wrong. Not like it was on the road. I – ‘’

Maggie struggled to say what was on her mind, but eventually her stubbornness won out. ‘’I don’t feel comfortable eating unless you’re holding me, unless I’m…sitting on your lap…’’ Her voice loud and strong withered to a whisper as she continued, ‘’…unless you're feeding me.’’

Negan’s concern softened into a warm smile. He set aside his spoon and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away her embarrassment. ‘’Hey, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about that. If that’s what makes you feel comfortable, then that’s what we’ll do.’’ His husky voice was reassuring, and Negan’s gaze unwavering as he understood the vulnerability in her request.

The man shifted closer, guiding Maggie to sit on his lap, his arm supporting her as she settled. ‘’I've got you,’’ he murmured, enveloping her in a tender embrace. With a tenderness that spoke volumes, he began to feed her by the spoonful, each gesture marked by a gentle reassurance and a shared intimacy.

Maggie's initial hesitation melted away as she felt the familiar comfort of being held by Negan. A sense of calm washed over her, dispelling the unease she’d been feeling moments before. It wasn’t just about the physical act of feeding; it was the connection. The trust and the security that came with it.

It’s you, Negan. It’s your warm embrace and the beat of your heart, the rumble of your voice in my ear and the strength of your arms around me.  

With each spoonful, Maggie felt the tension ease, and a genuine smile formed on her lips. The young woman didn’t forget what she set out to do when she first woke up, to make sure Negan also ate his fill. After seeing the state of him starved and lean so that she could be well-fed, Maggie vowed in her heart to make sure he’d never go hungry again.

I’ll cook for him and feed him. I’ll take care of him just as he’s done for me.  

It was with that notion in mind that Maggie moved to feed him as well, but what she saw made her pause. The young woman noticed the difference between their bowls. Hers was full to the brim save for the spoonfuls Negan gave her, whilst his was barely half-full.

Seeing her emeralds locked to his bowl, Negan sighed. ‘’Don’t worry about it, Maggie. Don’t have too much of an appetite right now.’’

Maggie shook her head, her soft emeralds growing stern as she picked up his bowl and spoon. ‘’You’re going to eat not only this, but half of mine as well. Enough with giving me the lion’s share, darlin. I need you to eat, to get strong. Please?’’

Negan’s reluctance was evident in the way his shoulders tensed, a subtle resistance to her insistence. He met her determined gaze with a hint of defiance to his own, but soon softened, realizing Maggie’s resolve wasn't something he could easily sway.

‘’You and them pretty eyes, baby girl. Okay…’’ With a sigh, Negan relented, allowing her to feed him, though a flicker of protest still danced in his eyes.

As Maggie continued to spoon the stew, she noted the slight lines etched around Negan's tired eyes, evidence of the harsh world they faced on the daily. She took in the greys and whites of his hair, the softness in his eyes held only for her.

There was a strength in his surrender, a silent acceptance of her care. It was entirely new, different from before whereas it was only him caring for her. This was what she wanted; what Maggie yearned for ever since she fell for the man. To care and be cared for, which only spurred the young woman’s determination further.

She fed him each spoonful with a mixture of persistence and affection, ensuring he took in each bite with a steadfast gaze and an unwavering purpose. In this way, they took turns feeding each other; with Maggie on Negan’s lap, both looking solely to the other.

Eventually, when the wooden spoon finally scraped the bottom of the bowl, Maggie nestled into Negan’s chest; her head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder as she let out a sigh of contentment.

Negan coiled his arms around her waist as she did so, leaning back into the chair so that Maggie could get comfortable.

For a time, the two took solace in the other, the only sound to be heard their faint breathing and the beating of their hearts. It wasn’t until Maggie craned her head to look up at Negan that the moment was broken.

‘’How many walkers have you killed?’’ asked Maggie abruptly, her eyes searching his face for an answer. Negan glanced down at the woman in his arms, his brow raised at the sudden question. He was quick to answer, however.  

‘’Not enough,’’ replied Negan with ease, a nonchalant undertone to his voice.

 Undeterred, Maggie pressed on, ‘’How many people have you killed?’’ His grip on her waist tightened briefly before relaxing. Unlike previously, there was a moment’s breath before he spoke. A tension in the man that Maggie could feel from sitting atop him.   

‘’More than any one man could possibly hope to justify,’’ answered Negan in reflection, only this time his voice was barely but a whisper, hoarse and broken.

In the brief pause that followed, a momentary stillness enveloped them. The tension in the air bespoke a man burdened by the echoes of his own choices, the gravity of Negan’s sins etched into each syllable. The weight of his past – the lives he had taken – hung heavy in the air.

Negan’s gaze – usually unwavering – momentarily faltered, revealing a vulnerability beneath the charismatic exterior. In his eyes blacker than coal the young woman could see a weary soul, tattered and tarnished.

Sorrow and pain for her lover flickered in Maggie’s eyes. Her next question delved deeper, seeking understanding. ‘’Why?’’ she asked, her tone carrying a mix of heartache and desperation.

Crestfallen, Negan grit his teeth and shook his head. ‘’Don't start that, Maggie,’’ he warned pleadingly, recognizing the weight behind the questions that probed the depths of his past.

‘’Why, Negan?!’’ Maggie braided her arms around his neck as she shifted to straddle him, her eyes locked to his, her lips just before his as she asked.

How many walkers, or how many people, it didn’t matter what Negan’s answer was. Whether he answered truthfully or brushed it off as he did now. Even she didn’t know the answers to that herself, of how many people, living or dead, that she put an end to. What mattered was the last question. Always the last.

Why?

Looking to his eyes blacker than coal, Maggie waited with bated breath for him to speak. He would not deny her this. He could deny her nothing. And so, she put her hand upon his chest, above her mark carved upon his beating heart.  

Negan – grappling with the shadows of his past – let out a heavy sigh, as if contemplating how to put the indescribable into words as he looked upon Maggie’s dark emeralds soft and searching. In her eyes was all he desired; all he could ever hope to grasp but knew could never be his. Not anymore. Not for him.

And yet…it is. She’s mine. Somehow…Maggie is mine.  

‘’You ask me why? Because Maggie…I – I killed to survive, to protect the people I cared about. I killed to get home. I killed to keep my power. I killed because I could. Because it felt good. It felt…right. I thought what I was doing was right.’’ whispered Negan. ‘’But it took everything from me, and I took everything from it.’’ Negan's voice wavered with a mixture of regret, pain, and a haunting sorrow of the choices that shaped him.

He continued; his words etched with the weight of the past. ‘’But with you…everything's different. You make me want to be more.’’

More than just a killer. More than this heart black as sin. More than just a monster.

‘’You make me want to be the man who deserves a woman like you.’’ Negan trailed his fingers down Maggie’s cheek as he said that, brushed his knuckles against her jaw before pressing the pad of his thumb against her soft lips.

‘’Maggie, I’ve done things in this world that make me question every damn breath I take. I was a different man back then, a man I can’t stand to be now. And I can’t change what I’ve done, but… I’m trying to be different. For you.’’

For her, thought Negan forlornly.

Maggie leaned into Negan’s touch, her eyes fluttering to a close as she pressed her forehead to his. He didn’t lie but painted the whole truth. The ugly and the good. He killed for just causes, but dark ones too. There was darkness in him, more than any person she had ever known, but now…

Now I’m here, thought Maggie.   

‘’You've changed, and you're still changing, Negan – for me, for us. I see it, and I believe in it. I believe in you, handsome.’’ Maggie smiled, brushed her little nose against his prominent one as she leaned down to catch his lips with hers; longing to convey the love and trust residing in her heart for the man she once hated.

Maggie’s kiss was deceptively gentle in the beginning. A tender press of her plump lips to his that grew subtly in passion and hunger as her fingers tangled themselves in Negan’s hair, her other gripping his jaw possessively.

Negan responded in equal fervor, squeezing Maggie’s ass in a possessive grip of his own, eliciting a breathy moan from the young woman who straddled him. The man smirked darkly, chuckled before slipping his tongue past the seams of her mouth to explore and claim as he kneaded her shapely bottom.

Maggie nearly froze from Negan’s consuming kiss and stroking hands. She could feel his dominion in the heat of his kiss calling her to heel, his authority almost as tangible as the tongue that slipped into her mouth and greeted her own in a powerful caress.

She stubbornly tried to match, to not surrender without a fight. Maggie wanted to satisfy him, but even in this she found herself painfully inexperienced. She knew how to kiss, but this was beyond a simple press of lips. His was ravenous and devouring, and the young woman could only submit.  

Maggie’s hunger gave way to Negan’s, his experience and technique overwhelming her, drowning her in waves of pleasure and joy. From his scent of leather and rain all that she breathed to his tongue twined with hers, to his roaming hands that would squeeze and knead with desire – it left her unable to think. Unable to do anything but give in to that which she started.

Maggie could feel Negan’s cock harden beneath her, and she instinctually began to grind against him, could feel the length of him press against her sex.

 And Negan, for all his dominance and control of the situation, was struggling not to become intoxicated with the sweet fieriness that was Maggie. He could feel his baby girl’s desire, her love and belief burning hot on her lips.

The weight of her atop him – her ass pressing and grinding against his hardened cock, it made Negan want to throw Maggie onto the table and take her, cement himself permanently in her heart as hers; to make his mark on the young woman just as she did to him.

To make her mine forever.

Negan broke away from Maggie abruptly at the thought, the suddenness of which bewildered he young woman who was still drunk with lust and love.

It can’t last…

‘’Negan?’’ Maggie frowned as he held her from the waist to stop her from grinding further against him, her dark emeralds clouded with passion slowly regaining clarity. ‘’Why’d you stop?’’

Negan sighed at the trace of hurt in her voice, his expression softening as he moved to hug her close to his chest.

‘’Trust me when I say I don’t want to baby girl, but right now...’’ For once Negan was grateful for the wounds he incurred, because now he had an excuse. At Maggie’s confusion, the older man lifted his shirt to show the blood that seeped from his loosened stitches.

Maggie’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of his blood. Guilt washed over her features, replacing the hurt that had been there just moments ago. She gently traced the edges of the stitches with her fingers, her touch careful and apologetic.

‘’Negan, why didn't you say something sooner?’’ Maggie's voice softened; concern etched across her face. The young woman scolded herself internally for not paying closer attention to his wounds, for forgetting all about it when she had told him earlier on that he’d need them redone.

Negan winced as her fingers grazed over the sensitive area. ‘’I didn't want to ruin the mood, babydoll. Plus, I didn't think it was that bad.’’

Maggie shot him a disapproving look. ‘’You could've bled out, and you're worried about ruining the mood?’’

He chuckled, appreciating the worry and frustration in her dark emeralds. ‘’Well, when you put it that way...’’

Maggie sighed affectionately, her fingers gently probing the stitches. ‘’We need to fix this. Where’d you leave the thread and needle?’’ She slowly moved to get off of him.

‘’Bathroom, in the cabinet under the sink.’’ replied Negan. He looked to her uncertainly, stopping her before she could get off of him. ‘’You sure you can stand and walk?’’

Maggie nodded. ‘’It’s a good chance to find out.’’ Seeing Negan’s brows still furrowed in concern, Maggie laughed lightly and flashed a smiled. ‘’Don’t worry. I’ll be holding onto things for support. I would have let you get the things yourself, but the bathroom ain’t far at all.’’ drawled Maggie in her southern accent.

Negan sighed, knew better than to try and dissuade Maggie once she got it in her to do something. ‘’Alright, but yell out immediately if you need me. I know you’re a stubborn girl, but don’t be too stubborn.’’

The young woman nodded with a smirk, quick to leave. But as Maggie walked away, she playfully teased, ‘’Quit starin' at my ass, Negan.’’

Negan chuckled to himself, muttering, ‘’Hard not to when you sway your hips like that.’’

He kept his eye on Maggie the entire way until she turned the corner to the bathroom, relieved to see that she was true to her word, holding onto the walls and nearby counters for support. She was walking gingerly, but it was a good thing. Meant that she could feel with her toes and feet, that the cold hadn’t affected her nerves.

The moment he lost sight of her Negan’s smile faded. He regretted bringing up the stitches. If he knew Maggie was going to get up he would have shifted to another topic instead, but it was the only thing he could come up with that quickly.

Damn it… He wanted her – hell – the man needed her. But…Would she regret it? There’s no going back once that line is crossed. There’s no squaring it away, no excuses. I can still hold back, restrain myself. But if we cross that line…

Negan knew himself; knew the depth of his desires, and the idea of crossing into that next realm of intimacy with Maggie stirred something primal within him.

‘’If we cross that line,’’ Negan mused to himself, his voice a low murmur, ‘’I don't know if I’ll be able to hold back. I don’t play well with others, and I sure as hell don’t share what’s mine.’’

What belongs to me!

The admission lingered in the air, and a possessive glint flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t just a matter of physical desire; it was the acknowledgment that, for better or worse, Maggie was becoming something irreplaceable in his life.

‘’You think you could change me, the way I changed you?’’ asked the man brokenly.

‘’I already did,’’ replied Maggie firmly.

Negan shook his head as he remembered their exchange earlier in the morning, trying to dispel the possessive thoughts that threatened to consume him. ‘’Don't want to mess things up,’’ he muttered to himself. ‘’But holy hell does my baby girl make it hard.’’

What Negan didn’t know was that Maggie had stopped just as she turned the corner, listening to his mutterings as she put her back to the wall. Her hair hung low; her expression was veiled in shadows. All but her emeralds pierced the darkness, a dark and dangerous glint as Maggie clung to every word.

Not hearing anything else from Negan, Maggie slowly unclenched her fist, her nails slowly coming away from having dug half-moons into her skin.

She knew what line he was talking about, the very line they threatened to cross not moments before had he not brought up his wound. She was quick to realize what he had done after hearing his words, but…

You already belong to me, Negan. You’re mine.    

Maggie licked her bottom lip, smirked darkly as she made her way to the bathroom.

 

---

 

By the time Maggie came back – which was in no time at all – she was huffing and puffing, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead as she carried the first aid kit in her arms.

‘’That,’’ Maggie huffed, ‘’was admittedly not my brightest of ideas.’’ Negan moved to get up, but Maggie shot him daggers all the way until she got to him.

‘’I’m fine, just a little winded,’’ said Maggie as she settled on the dining table before Negan. It was only then that she gestured for him to stand – not for him to help her, but for her to help him.

‘’Lift up your shirt,’’ instructed Maggie, ‘’and don’t be a baby when I thread the needle.’’

Negan grinned, twining one of Maggie’s long curls around his finger. ‘’Mhm. The only baby here is you, Maggie.’’

That earned him a snort and a playful scrunch of Maggie’s nose as she quickly got to work, her hands deftly working to take out the previous stitching and clean the wound. Just as Negan thought that was it, Maggie whispered, ‘’Only yours.’’

The atmosphere shifted to a more tender intimacy as Maggie focused on patching him up, and Negan took in the rarity of it. He’d never have imagined such a thing, not even in his wildest of dreams.

With that thought came another. Looking to this beautiful woman tending carefully to his wound, Negan thought of all the other wounds long turned into scars upon his flesh. Many of them from the wars waged, others in survival. But this one…it was for her. One born not out of sin, but from the act of protecting that which was dear to the heart.

So long as Maggie is safe. Even if it means suffering a thousand more just like these, then it’s worth it. She’s worth everything…

‘’I should've done a better job stitching myself up in the first place,’’ Negan admitted, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

Maggie shook her head fiercely as she carefully rethreaded the needle. ‘’I should’ve been there.’’ She looked to the bruises and the cuts, and the blood that seeped; the sight of it all – of him – made her heart ache and her anger ignite. ‘’You wouldn’t have been hurt had I just gone with you ‘stead of stupidly staying in the car.’’

‘’You couldn’t have known that, Maggie,’’ interjected Negan. ‘’I took the risk. Me. Even if you revealed to me that you were awake, I still would have gone on my own. You were hardly in any condition to fight, you know that.’’

Maggie’s jaw tightened. She continued on with her work, but the needle held between her fingers was beginning to tremble. ‘’Doesn't mean I shouldn’t have been there to watch your back,’’ she muttered, her frustration with herself evident in her voice.

Negan reached out with a tender smile on his face, gently placing a hand on hers to still the needle. ‘’Maggie, you can't blame yourself for what happened yesterday. That isn’t on you baby girl. That’s just par for the course when it comes to this world; to surviving. Sometimes that means taking risks we don’t like taking, and sometimes it means things don’t always go to plan.’’

Maggie met his gaze, her emerald eyes searching for reassurance. ‘’Surviving shouldn’t mean watching the people I care about get hurt, get…killed.’’ Maggie whispered, her voice breaking off as pain and sorrow tightened her throat.  

Negan’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand. ‘’I know, baby girl,’’ he murmured, his voice a low and soothing rasp. ‘’But you’ve got to remember, we’re all doing the best we can with the world we got. Sometimes our best isn’t enough, sad as that is. Sometimes there’s a storm on the horizon, and with it hell to pay.’’

A silence lingered between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and shared burdens. Negan held Maggie’s cheek with the palm of his hand, and she leaned into him as he did so.  

‘’And sometimes, Maggie,’’ Negan added, his tone earnest, ‘’we come out on the other side a little bruised, but still standing. This time we made it out of the storm. Yeah I got a little banged up – we both did – but we’re alive. We have each other, and that’s what matters.’’

Maggie nodded, took a steadying breath to regain her composure. She turned to kiss the palm of Negan’s hand before resuming her work with renewed determination. ‘’I just…It don’t make it any easier seeing you like this, knowing how close a shave it was what with the grenade and the knife.’’

‘’I know, and I’m sorry baby girl, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I need you to be safe. I’d rather all this shit happen to me than you. What’s a few more scars?’’ laughed out Negan. ‘’I’ve got plenty, but you…now that’d be a damn shame.’’

‘’You have enough scars,’’ refuted Maggie softly. ‘’I need you to be safe too you know. I can’t lose you, Negan.’’

Negan leaned down to level his gaze with hers. ‘’You won’t, Maggie. I’ll always be with you.’’

Until the day you no longer need me…

Looking into Negan’s determined eyes and seeing herself reflected within, Maggie leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip lightly with her teeth before letting go. ‘’I trust you, Negan. So please…don’t break my heart. Promise me?’’ There was a fragileness held within her voice, a wound that only he could balm and heal.

‘’I won’t. I promise you, Maggie. I won’t betray your faith in me.’’

She nodded after a beat of silence, saying softly, ‘’I know. I can see it in your eyes that you won’t let me down.’’

She knew better than to trust such a thing, to believe nothing bad would happen. Maggie wasn’t the naïve girl she used to be, far from it. She had weathered storms of heartbreak and loss, each tempest leaving scars etched deep into her soul. The painful echoes of past goodbyes and unsaid farewells lingered like haunting melodies.

Everyone she loved died in the end, and yet…with him she believed it would be different. Maggie trusted Negan to keep his promises. All of them, from staying by her side to taking care of her just as he had done from the beginning.

Always…that was his word to me. Always.  

Her heart was a delicate thing, fractured pieces put together whole by his hand, and without him it’d break again. There’d be no pieces left once her heart broke for the last and final time. Without Negan, there’d be nothing left at all.  

That dream will come true. It will be different. It must.

‘’There. Good as new.’’ As Maggie tied off the final stitch, she looked up, her eyes meeting Negan's before she pressed a gentle kiss to the freshly stitched wound.

Negan was stunned at the gentle act, of Maggie pressing her lips to his wound. A gesture so tender and unexpected that it left him momentarily speechless. It was entirely new for the man to be taken care of like this. To have someone care for him and patch him up.

To be in love again…I didn’t think it was possible for me.

The touch of her lips against his wound almost felt wrong, like a sin. He’d felt that way about holding her hands, how soft and smooth her skin was compared to his.

I’m everything that’s wrong, and yet she’s touching me. She’s healing me. She…wants me. Maggie…she needs me. She’s everything you could ever dream of and more you poor bastard, and she’s yours! All you have to do is give in. Just give in…    

Negan broke away from those thoughts before they could consume him completely. At least not in front of her. Not now when her emeralds looked into his. The man could lie and deceive with the best of them, but this woman saw through everything; knew him too well.

He suddenly remembered her earlier words: Don’t forget sharp, darlin. And smiled wryly in his heart at the image of her smirking as she said.

I sure know how to pick ‘em. Maggie’s sharper than the knife she held to my throat, and that’s pretty fucking sharp.

He’d already been in his head for too long, but thankfully for him Maggie had turned her sights to the aid kit, putting away the needle and thread along with the antiseptic.

Just as she closed the kit, Negan sat back into the chair and patted his lap, to which Maggie looked at him with brows furrowed in uncertainly.

‘’You sure?’’

Negan nodded. ‘’Sure as I’ll ever be. The stitching came undone cause I did a shit job, not cause of you, baby girl. Now that you’ve put your touch to it there won’t be a problem.’’

Maggie got off the table and eased herself onto Negan once more, this time mindful not to press against his stitches.

‘’Can I ask why the sudden questions earlier, baby girl?’’

Maggie nodded; her gaze momentarily distant. ‘’Back there on the road I had a lot of time to think, lot of questions I wanted to ask you but couldn’t. Questions that begged answers, Negan, and not knowing was just as bad as the pretending.’’

Maggie smirked then, a slight curve to her lips as she tightened her hold around his neck, bringing his chest flush with hers. ‘’Now that I’ve got you where I want you, them questions I buried are coming to surface, and I can’t help but want to know. I need to know.’’

Negan nodded in understanding but sighed in his heart. Though he didn’t want Maggie to go prying away at his darkness, the man did want her to know him as more than just the monster, more than just a killer. Just as she wanted – no, needed to know more about him, so too did he need to know more about her. Needed to know all about the woman in his arms young and wounded.

My woman… Negan smiled to himself. She’ll want to know everything, and being the beautifully stubborn angel that she is…

Negan patted Maggie on the ass and chuckled as he accepted the inevitable.

…She’ll get her way.

 ‘’Well, ask away then. We’ve got all the time in the world now, and I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with,’’ said Negan reassuringly with affection to his tone.

A flash of hesitation flashed across Maggie’s emeralds. The young woman looked to him for a moment before slowly shaking her head. ‘’Like you said, we’ve got all the time in the world. I think I’ve overwhelmed the both of us enough for today, don’t you think?’’

Now it was Negan who shook his head, his hand stroking Maggie’s long, dark hair as he did so. ‘’Nah, baby girl. You’ve been holding onto these questions for a long time now, and you deserve to know what you’re getting into when wanting me to stick around and be your man. So…ask.’’

‘’Hmm. I dunno, darlin. You were a little reluctant on those last ones. You sure you can handle more?’’ said Maggie with a hint of a challenge to her tone.

Negan huffed. ‘’Caught me off guard was all, babydoll, and don’t think I don’t know where you got those questions from.’’ Negan bumped the tip of his nose lightly on hers, his eyes narrowing as he did so. ‘’With you I answered from the heart. All Rick the prick got was a ‘fuck you’ and a ‘fuck off.’’

Maggie burst out laughing, and it was like music to Negan’s ears. The sight of his girl laughing so hard that she even snorted a bit made him chuckle. Maggie pinched his waist for it, but the pain was worth it. She was worth it.

Maggie kissed him thereafter, holding her side and wiping away a tear from all the laughing that she did. Her emeralds were alight with joy as she gazed to him, saying, ‘’That sounds about right coming from you.’’

The young woman pressed her lips to his once more, only this time more deeply and with all her heart behind it. ‘’Thank you, handsome. I needed that.’’

I need you, Maggie thought as she took in the security of his arms around her waist, the warmth and scent of him that enfolded her. It was a heady thing, all of it, and the young woman would never tire of it. Would never not need all that he was and gave.

Negan moved a wisp of her dark hair, putting it behind her ear as he said, ‘’I should be the one thanking you, baby girl. Hearing you laugh is music to my ears. In fact, I think I just fell for you even more, and I didn’t think that was possible.’’

Maggie was quick to blush, and quick to hide it by burrowing her head in the hollow of Negan’s shoulder. Her breath was hot on his neck as she breathed out, ‘’Sweet talker. You tryin’ to make me forget what I wanted to ask you?’’

His remarks on her smile, her dark, green eyes and the sound of her laughter all left Maggie feeling like the goddess he treated her as in his heart. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her like she was worth more than anything in the world…it was everything. In all that he did and said.

His angel…

Negan smirked. ‘’Is it working?’’

Maggie snorted and – feeling playful – nipped at his neck lightly with her teeth.  ‘’Knock it off before I really do bite you.’’ she quipped, the hint of a teasing smile adorning her lips.

Negan only chuckled, smacking her on the ass in retaliation. Maggie gasped as she felt the sting of his heavy hand; bit the inside of her cheek as a rush of pleasure coursed down her spine, causing her to arch her back.

When the jolt of pleasure and pain receded, the young woman narrowed her emeralds dangerously, and for a moment Negan thought Maggie would attack him. He offered her a roguish smile in return, and Maggie held his gaze sternly with hers before softening her emeralds with affection.

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh again, only this time it wasn’t so much as music but a warning bell ringing in Negan’s ear.

‘’Soon as I can walk, handsome, expect me to kick your ass.’’

Negan pecked her on the lips, a smirk on his as he kissed her. ‘’Don’t tempt me with a good time. Besides…you know you liked it, baby girl.’’

Maggie scrunched her nose in mock displeasure, but she didn’t deny it. ‘’Mhm. Maybe…’’ It was definitely a first for her, and she couldn’t tell if it was the act itself or because of Negan that she liked it.

Maybe it’s both? Maggie knew she was feeling a certain type of way when it came to the man, even wanting to do things she had never done before. And though Maggie hadn’t spoken the words yet, she loved him. She really did, and with her love came new emotions. Darker in nature, stronger in her desire to possess and keep. To have all of him just as he now had all of her.  

I’ve changed. I’m still changing...

The young woman came out of her thoughts to see Negan smilingly softly at her, his hands continuing where they left off at stroking her long, dark curls.

‘’You okay?’’ asked Negan as he threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging Maggie’s scalp and relieving the tension she didn’t even know she had until it vanished with his touch.

‘’Yeah, sorry,’’ apologized Maggie softly. ‘’I was just in my head. Got a little too used to it since being on the road.’’ As she explained, Maggie put her hands on Negan’s chest, rubbing her fingers into the shirt she picked for him and reaching for the warmth of his chest hidden beneath.

‘’Don’t be. Sorry, that is. I’m guilty of doing that too,’’ reassured Negan softly. ‘’It’s good to think, just…don’t bury anything anymore. Let it all out.’’

The older man looked to her seriously as he cupped her face with both hands. ‘’I’m here for you. For everything. Now…ask me the questions, Maggie. Ask me what you want to know. What you need to know.’’

Negan’s demeanor had changed. The smile on his face faded, and his eyes turned somber. He was ready, come what may.  

Maggie nodded and took a deep breath, closing her eyes shut for a moment as she steadied her racing heart. She couldn’t help but clench her fingers into the fabric of Negan’s shirt as she let out a shuddered breath, only opening her emeralds to him when she felt ready.

‘’What were you planning on doin’ had I not revealed I was awake? That is, once you got me to the group would you have…stayed?’’ asked Maggie, a subtle trace of hope to her tone.

‘’No,’’ said Negan after a moment of silence, dashing away the hope she had. ‘’The plan was to set up a location where your people could get you without ever knowing it was me that sent you. I haven’t checked the main cache, but in it there should be a set of walkie-talkies and a flare gun.’’

Negan could see that his words affected Maggie, but he pushed forward to explain. ‘’You know as well as I do that I’m not exactly a fan-favorite, baby girl. And you know what would happen if they saw me carrying you. They’d jump to conclusions, hell, they’d jump me; throw me in another cell.’’

Maggie took a moment to collect herself. His firm rejection resounded in her heart, made her hands begin to tremble at the terrible thoughts of him leaving. That she would have continued to pretend until the day he left, hoping he wouldn’t.   

‘’And what then?’’ Maggie forced out hoarsely. Her nails were digging half-moons into his flesh before Negan took her trembling hands and held to them firmly.

‘’Maggie, hey – look at me baby girl.’’ He put a hand to her chin and raised her lowered head. ‘’It didn’t happen. It isn’t going to happen. I promised to get you to them, and I promised to stay. So that’s what’s going to happen, Maggie. You’ll see them again, and I’ll be there right by your side.’’

Maggie nodded, let out a shuddered breath as she relaxed her grip on him. Seeing the marks her nails left, Maggie knew she could never let him go.

‘’Sorry I just – the thought of you leaving…I hate that.’’ Maggie explained, her tone low and dangerous. She shook her head before whispering, ‘’What would you have done after? Where would you have gone?’’

‘’I’d have gone wherever the wind would have taken me baby girl. Maybe I’d have rode off into the sunset, like one of those cowboys in those spaghetti westerns.’’

Seeing that Maggie wasn’t at all amused at his attempt to lighten things up, Negan sighed. ‘’Once I knew you were in good hands Maggie, I’d have gone back to the hill where I should have died on. I’d have searched for that baseball bat and burned it.’’

Negan expected her to react harshly at the mention of the weapon he used in his time as her enemy, but to his surprise Maggie didn’t even flinch. Rather, it was what he said after that caused a ripple in her expression.  

‘’After, I’d have gone home to see Lucille one last time before I headed to the far North. When I was a young man I journeyed across the Arctic Sea, saw a piece of earth untouched by man that I swore to call my own. Home. I would go there again Maggie – away from the dead and the living – and rest.’’

Maggie didn’t expect such an answer from Negan, but everything that he told her faded away until a single word remained present in her mind.

‘’What do you mean by that? Rest?’’ Maggie didn’t like his tone when he said that; the way his eyes were set in resignation.

‘’You know the answer to that yourself, Maggie. I don’t have much going for me anymore, not sure I want to either. And like I told you before, taking care of you is my purpose. Once that ended…’’

Maggie felt sick to her stomach at what was left unsaid, hurried to turn away from it by asking, ‘’I don’t even know where to begin with everything else that you just said. The Arctic Sea, that’s just…insane. Even before the world ended sailing was dangerous, and now…’’ Maggie shook her head free from her jumbled thoughts. ‘’Why take that risk? Why go to such extremes just to make a land without people your home?’’

‘’I never…belonged,’’ replied Negan hoarsely. ‘’Not when the world fell, not before. When I sailed the Northen Sea, the spray of salt and the crushing waves – the storm that rained down it – I felt alive, Maggie. That feeling, I only felt it twice thereafter. When I was with Lucille, and now with you. Every second was just exhausting, every minute on the edge of life and death. No time to think, no time for hesitation.

‘’I belonged there in the storms and the rolling waves, beneath the falling rain without light. Call me insane but I was at peace with myself. My demons didn’t haunt me, and I never felt more alive until I met her and you. I would hope to die in a storm just like the one I endured decades ago, but if not then to die alone in that land. Once I left you, I would hope to feel alive at least one more time before the end.’’    

Maggie didn’t know what to say or even think. She had heard him say how she made him feel alive earlier, but it was only now that she realized the deeper meaning beneath his words.

It breathed fire into her heart to know she made him feel alive, and it broke her heart to know what his fate would have been had he fulfilled his promise to get her to the others; had he not promised to stay and be her love.

Maggie looked to Negan’s face weary and exhausted, felt her sight blur with tears at his small smile to her.

Negan tenderly brushed away the tears that fell from her dark emeralds, whispering lovingly, ‘’Don’t cry for me, Maggie. I don’t deserve your tears.’’

Maggie rushed to wrap her arms around him, burying her head in the hollow of his shoulder. ‘’How many times do I have to say it, handsome? I choose, and I chose you.’’

Negan caressed the small of her back in slow, loving strokes. In his mind’s eye that stormy sea in the midst of night was painted, the endless fall of rain and the waves that towered against the vessel.

It wouldn’t have brought him to the same heights that he felt with Lucille and Maggie, but it would have warmed his cold, sinful heart. Even if fleeting and at the cost of his life, he would feel the warmth before the eternal cold.

Love would not warm my heart as it does now, but I would feel alive again. If only for one last, final time.

‘’I’m the same, you know.’’ said Maggie with a sniffle. ‘’You make me feel alive, Negan. I need you just as much, if not more. I – ‘’

I love you, thought Maggie.

‘’I know, baby girl. I know,’’ whispered Negan. He pressed her head closer, exhaled slowly before burrowing his nose in her mess of curls and breathing in Maggie’s scent. Infused with the warmth of lavender and a hint of rain, her hair emitted a grounding fragrance. It eased the tension taut in his shoulders, calmed his restless heart.   

‘’And the bat? Why burn it?’’ murmured Maggie into his neck, the warmth of her breath brushing against his skin with every word spoken delicately.

Negan continued where he left off previously, his hand stroking Maggie’s mess of curls. The act not only soothed her, but himself as well. Kept his nerves from fraying.  

‘’It was foolish to name it after Lucille,’’ Negan whispered, his voice carrying a weight of regret. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns through Maggie’s hair as he elaborated further. ‘’Lucille, she was a woman I loved with all my heart. Naming that weapon after her, staining her memory with the brutality of what I became... it’s nothing more than a disgrace. I used to wield it as if it embodied some twisted sense of power, but all it did was tarnish the memory of who Lucille was.’’

Negan's gaze momentarily drifted away, as if looking into the past, reliving moments he wished he could undo. ‘’Burning it would be my way of purging that shame, of severing the connection between the woman I loved and the monster I became. Lucille deserved better than to have her name associated with the atrocities I committed.’’

Deserved better than me, just like you, Maggie…

Maggie felt an ache in her heart at the mention of Lucille. It wasn’t jealousy as it had been the times before when he spoke of her, but rather pain for seeing Negan suffer. At least she had someone to hate for her loss. At least in the end she could move on and look towards the future with the man in front of her.

But it isn’t the same for you, is it Negan? I see the hate in your eyes, but it isn’t for anyone but yourself. You have enough scars. You’ve hurt enough already. So please…it’s enough. No more, Negan.  

‘’When the blizzard outside tides over and we leave this place, I’ll help you to find that baseball bat and burn it Negan.’’

I’ll help you to move on just as you helped me; to heal just as you healed me so that we both can look to our future together.  

‘’Maggie, I don’t think…’’ Negan was of the mind to refuse, thinking maybe she’d react aversely if she was there and saw the weapon again, but then he recalled her unwavering expression when he mentioned it, remembered that he couldn’t sperate from her.

Last night showed him the consequence of doing that, her mark over his heart still a dull burn fresh on his mind.

‘’Where you go, I go, remember?’’ Maggie delicately wove her fingers through the wild tangle of his unkempt beard, her touch lingering on the rough texture. With a tender assurance she cupped her hand to his jaw, her touch both firm and gentle, and pressed her lips to his with a deliberate intensity to cement his promise of together.

Negan released a slow exhale. His tongue traced over his lower lip, savoring the lingering sensation left by Maggie's kiss, and a genuine smile of affection bloomed in the depths of his heart at the toothmark she had imprinted. ‘’And where you go, I go. Always.’’ whispered Negan.

Maggie closed her eyes, assured by Negan's whispered promise. The young woman let herself savor the moment, feeling the gentle touch of his fingers through her hair.

His promise echoed in her heart, and the warmth of his presence enveloped her. In that quiet pause, Maggie found solace, her trust deepening with every caress. His was simple, and yet within that one word lay so much more.

Always…Always for me, thought Maggie with a flutter in her belly.

She wished this moment would never end, but still a whirlwind of questions danced in her mind, begging to be asked and answered. Negan’s hand – if left to stroke and caress her for even a moment more – would quickly make her lose track of what she yearned to say.

A sigh heavy with reluctance escaped her lips. With a decisive reach, Maggie clasped his hand stroking her hair, drawing Negan’s arm close to her chest. Negan watched in confusion as she did so, his eyes gaining clarity as his baby girl rolled up the sleeve to his right arm, revealing the black ink he constantly hid away during their time on the road.

‘’So you noticed then. I didn’t expect your next question to be about this,’’ remarked Negan with surprise, if not a touch of apprehension.   

‘’What does it mean, Negan? I saw the way you touched your arm when you thought me asleep, when you were alone in the middle of the night left with nothing but the shadows and the silence.’’ Maggie's voice held a mixture of curiosity and concern, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. She had witnessed his solitary moments in the dead of night, the subtle caress he bestowed upon the hidden art beneath fabric and darkness.

‘’Soon, baby girl. Please.’’ Negan thought back to the black box he brought back last night, the one he hid away. ‘’Soon you’ll know, alright? I promise.’’

Maggie couldn’t help but be a bit stubborn. ‘’Can you at least tell me what this means? It’s been driving me up the wall.’’ Her fingertips danced over the markings etched on his flesh, a script of letterings accompanied by the haunting visages of demons, each with a story yet to be unveiled.

She knew Negan did not like her touching it, felt it in the way his muscles moved beneath her fingertips; grew taut with her touch. Maggie knew it by his jaw set in toleration, like it was a sinful thing that needed to be hidden away, never to be touched nor seen by his angel.

Now that she finally saw it up-close and in the light, Maggie knew there was a story to be told of this arm etched black with darkness. Surrounding those markings were the faces of haunting demons, faces set crying in anguish and sorrow, others snarling in hatred and wrath.

A story of rage and sadness, thought Maggie with an ache to her heart. Still, it meant the world to her to see Negan not shy away, that he would let her touch his darkness and ask for his secrets. To unearth what he would rather hide and bury away.  

‘’Death is true. Death is final.’’

Seeing Maggie’s brows furrowed in confusion, Negan smiled wryly, yet knowingly. ‘’What the markings mean on my arm.’’

Maggie was shocked to find that she had briefly forgotten asking him that. It had slipped her mind that she did, entranced by his arm and the demons that seemed to come alive with the pulse of his heart and blood.

‘’Stare too long and you hardly notice,’’ remarked Negan hoarsely, an edge to his tone. ‘’They draw you in, refuse to let go. Now you understand why I would get so lost, look to my arm for hours at a time. For me it’s a reminder, a story I carved on my own skin so that I’ll never forget. That’s all I can say about it for now, baby girl.’’

Maggie nodded and let go, watched with mixed emotions as Negan unfurled his sleeve to hide away the ink carved on his right arm. She had asked her questions – those that came to mind at the moment, and Negan answered them all truthfully regardless of how the truth painted him.

She could see the toll it took, but…  

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but no words were spoken. The hesitation was evident on her face, prompting Negan to kiss her and whisper, ‘’It’s okay. Just say it.’’

The young woman thought back to earlier that morning, remembered the scar-laden landscape that painted Negan’s body. Maggie pressed her hand firmly to his chest then as she thought back, remembered the feeling of her touch against his; how she traced the contours of scars, each telling a silent tale of his life, too numerous to count and too profound for a mere survivor.

There was a strategic brilliance in the way he navigated peril, a dangerous finesse that had kept them alive through countless trials on the way to Sanctuary. For every truth she unearthed came a thousand secrets.

Just who are you, Negan Smith?

Negan was more than just some charismatic leader of the Saviors, more than just a loudmouth. Everyone saw him for just what was shown, judged him by his words and acts, but it was only after having journeyed with the man that Maggie understood there was far more to Negan.

‘’I’ve seen you, Negan. Watched you every waking second on our way here. I wanted to learn you, to understand the man who hurt me and haunted my mind for years.’’ Her fingers, like a cartographer mapping the terrain of his experiences as she spoke, moved up from where she laid her mark on his heart to the faint silvery-white scar on his throat. A scar imperceptible unless one knew it was there beforehand; knew where to look for it.

‘’Out there on the road you puzzled me. The way you handle things, the tactics you use. I mean you killed nearly a dozen survivors, Negan. And the scars…The scars on your body…there are too many for just a survivor.’’

Maggie leaned forward, whispered into his ear, ‘’It made me start thinking if the man who gave me nightmares was one I even knew at all. If what you presented yourself as that night we met you was even the real you.’’

‘’Maggie, I don’t – ‘’

‘’Why? Why did you kill him?’’ interrupted Maggie. ‘’Back then when you stepped out of the RV. Why him?’’

‘’Who, G – ‘’ Negan started, but Maggie's cut through.

‘’ – No. I knew why you killed Glenn. I know, but…why did you kill Abraham, Negan? Was it really a game of chance? Or was it something else?’’

Negan’s eyes widened slightly, but he feigned his shock by shaking his head. ‘’I recognized him for a soldier,’’ he said after a thought. The man shrugged his shoulders. ‘’Hard to mistake him as anything else. Sergeant like him would never step in line. I saw the way his eyes roamed, observing and looking for flaws and weaknesses. He wouldn’t break, I knew that from the start. Out of everyone he was the only one who didn’t cower, didn’t shy away from my sight. Hell, he wasn’t scared one bit.’’

Maggie furrowed her brows, a moment of realization casting a shadow over her features. ‘’Wait…how’d you know Abraham was a Sergeant? I didn’t know that. Not even Rick or Rosita knew that.’’

Negan looked confused. ‘’I think you misheard me, Maggie. I just said he was a – ‘’

‘’ – Soldier, I know,’’ interrupted Maggie softly. Negan sighed in his heart; knew he had slipped up. Her question was too sudden, nothing he could have expected.  

‘’What aren’t you tellin’ me? Don’t lie to me, please.’’ Her voice was soft and gentle, but Negan could sense the edge hidden in her tone.

‘’Why did you kill Abraham, Negan? The real reason.’’