Archive of Our Own

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"Next!"
 
Fucking baseball. The worst sport in existence. At least it was when playing in front of a load of other twelve and thirteen-year-olds. It was alright to watch, you suppose.
 
It wasn't even necessarily the lesson that annoyed you, it was the shitty teacher. Coach Smith was his name, how generic. 
 
It's like he got off on seeing people scared, which, you mean, hopefully he didn't, given that the people he was scaring were barely scraping being teenagers.
 
You watched as some boy strutted towards the batter's box, looking all smug as if the big man on the other side wasn't determined to find one tiny little detail to ridicule him on. Poor guy. Should be used to it, though. So if anything, it's his fault for not expecting the teacher's reaction.
 
You stared as he positioned himself on the right side of the plate (right-handed, you noted) and waited for Coach to pitch the ball to him, shuffling on his feet side-to-side and all. How stuck up.
 
When Coach finally threw the ball, you couldn't help but smile and bite your lip as the kid completely missed it; instead, he was just spinning in a circle with the bat, and you couldn't help but notice Coach Smith's laugh as he sauntered over, definitely about to give an earful to the boy.
 
What even is his name?
 
It doesn't matter; all that matters is that you can hear that annoying, patronising, annoying, so very annoying voice taunting the poor guy for his lame shot, bless him.
 
You zoned out as the line moved forward, not even properly registering it was your turn to bat until the ball was flying at you at full speed. Fuck that old man and his stupid baseball genetics or whatever.
 
You panicked and swung the bat due to reflex, squeezing your eyes shut in case the ball made impact with your face, as if that'd do anything to help.
 
But it didn't; you heard a thud, then a whoosh, and when you opened your eyes, you saw the ball flying to the side. That probably wasn't where it was meant to go, but holy shit was it going far. And really fast.

'God, I'm good.'

As the ball made impact with the ground, you could see the mark it made in the grass even from your distance, quite the confidence boost if you do say so yourself.
 
You jogged over to the other side of the field, almost whistling to yourself at the hole in the ground before you remembered you couldn't even whistle, plus, that's embarrassing and stuck-up, you don't want to be like that kid.
 
Seriously, what is his name?
 
Negan watched you as you grabbed the ball, genuinely impressed. That never really happens with these stupid Virginian kids, they all seemed too brain dead to actually be considered children, babies seemed to suit them more.
 
But this girl. He's noticed her for a while. She was quiet, clearly athletic, very smart, and was overly expressive on her face, but he doubted she'd ever noticed that on herself. To him, it almost seemed like she wasn't even aware she was conscious half the time.
 
She was always spacey and seemed a bit like a weirdo too. Although, he's not sure he can talk since he plays video games with kids on the daily.
 
He watched as the next teenager stepped up to the plate, positioning herself on the left side (weird, he never noticed she was left-handed). He turned his head to see you jogging over, ball in hand.
 
"That was fuckin' brilliant," He grinned. He always was one for profanities. He took the ball from your hand, noticing the chipped nail polish. You're probably in your baby bat phase or something. 
 
You blushed at the praise, a light smile making its way to your face, "Thanks," You muttered, turning to walk over to the other kids.
 
"Hold yourself," He told you, taking a couple of steps towards you.

'That definitely isn't the saying.'

You turned to look up at him. God, he was tall. Makes sense though, you're only twelve, any adult and every adult is tall to you.
 
He grinned at you, patting your shoulder, "You’re real fuckin’ good at this, kid. How ‘bout you stop messin’ around and join the damn team? We could use a slugger like you."
 
You bit the inside of your cheek at that and shook your head, a soft, awkward smile playing at your lips, "I'm good," You replied in a soft tone, almost a whisper now that you think about it, embarrassing.
 
He tilted his head at that, showing his dumb, condescending smile, "Seriously-" He began before he heard the voices of the other students. Shit. He forgot he had a job.
 
He turned around, walking towards the home plate as he spoke behind his shoulder, "Don’t think you’re off the hook, girl. I’m findin’ you later — count on it!"
 
Fucking brilliant.
 
 
 
 
You were sitting on the uncomfortable chair of the library, shuffling every few seconds as if finding a comfortable crevice was possible.
 
Detention was like a second home at this point, and you always got it for pointless reasons.
 
One of the main reasons was because you didn't do your homework. Not your fault you couldn't access the information at home because, surprise, surprise, you had no computer.
 
Another reason was being late to school. Not your fault your dad wouldn't unlock the door until like, five minutes before the day started. Didn't help you lived a good twenty-minute walk away.
 
And your all-time favourite one, skipping class. It's not like you even necessarily wanted to, you actually quite enjoyed some of your classes, such as English. You liked the teacher, she was pretty and funny and knew how to make preteens laugh. But it's just your fellow, kind-hearted pupils.
 
In almost every class you have, there's this one group that has it out for you for no reason. Maybe it's your choppy hair from cutting it yourself the past few years. Maybe it's the fact your clothes were never totally clean, maybe it was even the fact your accent was different from theirs from not growing up in Virginia your whole life.
 
You didn't know, but whatever the reason, it pissed you off.
 
And what pissed you off more? The librarian.
 
She constantly looked like death, today more so. She was sluggish, constantly complaining to the students in the front row that she felt like she had a fever and looked deathly pale. But then again, that's nothing totally new.
 
"There you are! I was startin’ to think you were hidin’ from me."
 
Oh, fuck off. You thought he'd forgotten.
 
You turned your head in the direction of the noise, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
 
"Alright, here — take this home. Get it signed, bring it back, and I can make it official," He told you as he slid a piece of paper onto your desk. A consent form. A motherfucking consent form.
 
You looked up at him properly this time, tilting your head lightly, "But I never said yes to joining," You stated, but it sounded more like a question than anything else.
 
He scoffed a laugh at that, pointing at the blank line, "Well, guess what? I’m pretty damn good at convincing people. You're on the team, whether ya like it or not."
 
Your eyes trailed his hand to the tip of his finger, reading the words just above it.
 
Parent's Signature.
 
"You can't convince me. Besides, my dad wouldn't sign this," You told him, picking up the piece of paper and holding it out to him, waving it slightly as if telling him to take it.
 
He looked down at the swaying paper, eyes narrowing a bit, "Why the hell not?"
 
You copied his facial expression slightly. Exactly what he meant, a very expressive face, and you don't even know it.
 
"Do you forget you work at a school sometimes?" You ask, ignoring his questions as you placed the slip on the desk again when you realised he wasn't going to take it, "How often do you get reported for indecent language?" You asked with a very small, but noticeable, smile.
 
He smiled softly at your words, shaking his head lightly with a small scoff, "Not often. Hardly ever, I'm practically a saint."

'That's most definitely a lie.'

You shrugged in response, playing with the corners of the consent form, silently praying for a paper cut so you could 'go to the nurse's office'.
 
"I'll bring it home, but I promise you, he won't sign it. It's a waste of a tree."
 
"The trees will forgive—" He began before getting cut off by a scream.
 
Ho-ly shit.
 
At the front desk of the library was one of the older kids being literally torn apart by the librarian, gnawing at her arm.
 
Fucking cannibals infiltrated America. Great.
 
"Shit—fucking—get up!" Negan exclaimed, grabbing onto your arm and practically dragging you out of the library.
 
Not like you're exactly complaining, you're pretty sure you'd be frozen in shock until you too, were being eaten by an old lady if he wasn't there to pull you away.
 
"I thought the Europeans were just going batshit," He muttered under his breath, still holding onto your arm as he ran through the school halls.
 
It was after you got pulled around the corner that you realised the school fire alarm had been triggered and people were running about. What idiots, running over a fire alarm. At least you were running from something dangerous.
 
"What'd you mean?" You asked Negan, heaving slightly because shit, could this oldie run.
 
"On the news—shit—people were making shit up about people suddenly going mad and eatin' others—" He stopped shouting over his shoulder when he saw one of the students mauling a teacher.
 
Okay, maybe the others had a good reason to run too.
 
"Fuck!" You shouted, hiding behind Negan as he looked for a way out from the hallway, biting on his lip.
 
He started running again, his grip tightening on your wrist to make sure you wouldn't slip away from him. This time, he was on his way to the teacher's car park.
 
This whole thing had you feeling sick, as if you were the one being eaten right now. 
 
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
 
You didn't even realise you were outside till the man was shoving you into the passenger seat of his car, quickly closing the door beside you before rushing over to his own.
 
"Where do you live?" He asked in a breathless rush, not even bothering to strap his seat belt over himself before he turned the car engine on, turning his head and making sure you at least had your seat belt covering you.
 
"Whitetail Court," You replied, equally as breathless.
 
You were sat frozen when you saw one of the other PE teachers coming towards you, blood dripping down her mouth and her eyes a pure white. What ironic colour imagery.
 
You were even more shocked when Mr—Negan—whatever didn't even bother to stop or check if she was okay, just fucking ran her over.
 
"The hell?!" You exclaimed, turning your head to look at him. He was focused, it didn't really suit him. Looking all serious like that.
 
"Look—those things? They ain’t alive, not even close," He explained, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, "We’ve got another five-minute drive, and once you’re safe with your dad, I’m gettin’ the hell outta here and goin’ to find my wife."
 
You played with your thumbs, twiddling them like some six-year-old. "Do you, erm..." You muttered, shifting uncomfortably, "Mind coming in?" You hesitated for a moment before continuing your sentence, "Just in case my dads become one of those."
 
He thought for a moment, biting on his lip before nodding his head, trying to ignore some of the thoughts going through his head. What if your dad had turned? What the fuck would he do with you? He couldn't just leave you to rot on the street or something.
 
"As soon as you know he’s alive—and he will be—I’m out. Gotta get to my wife and get her safe."
 
You nod, crossing your legs as you lean into the seat, looking out the window at the seemingly normal road. Seems this infection thing hasn't really spread to the streets yet.
 
It's only a couple of more minutes before you make it to your house, quickly hopping out of the car as you see Negan following behind through the corner of your eye.
 
You practically speed walk to your door and find it's already left slightly ajar. Shit.
 
"Dad?!" You shouted, opening and closing doors as you found no hint of him being there.
 
During your search, Negan takes time to look around your house. It's very...messy. There's magazines all over the floor, alcohol, and pills. Well shit. He didn't think you'd be one of the unlucky kids to be stuck with a life like this.
 
As he inspected the living room, he noticed something, a photo. A little girl with her hair tied into two plaits, a woman with sunglasses and a sun hat, and a man, a very fucking unhappy-looking one at that.
 
Then, he noticed an inscription on the bottom of the beautiful silver frame.
 
'Your Wings Were Ready But Our Hearts Were Not - 08.08.2008.'
 
The death date would've been poetic if it wasn't for a real person, God. He couldn't imagine losing his mom that young, couldn't even-
 
"Daddy, please," He heard you beg, and immediately went looking for you.
 
"Kid?" He shouted, barging through the kitchen only to find the back door open, "Kid—" He shouted, albeit a bit quieter this time, rushing through the back door before he froze.
 
The sight in front of him broke his heart, and trust him, it was hard to make him sad, especially over a little family he didn't know nor care about.
 
You were sitting on your knees with your hands gripped together as if to pray, elbows resting on a man's thighs. Said man was scruffy, extremely, with a thick beard and unruly hair, and he looked dead, but he could tell from the rise and fall of his chest that he wasn't.
 
He was just...staring into the garden, rocking slightly on the chair he was in, completely ignoring his daughter's pleas to just listen to her, to just talk to her, to just look at her.
 
And that's when Negan noticed the swelling bite mark on his right leg. Shit.
 
"Daddy, please just look at me," You pleaded again, looking up at him through teary eyes, just wanting something.
 
He knew what needed to be done, he'd seen shit all over the news about how enough damage to the brain would stop the 'infected', whatever the fuck that meant, from coming back alive.
 
But how was he meant to tell you that? How was he meant to tell a twelve-year-old that their dad had to be killed? He didn't wanna make her do that, and she sure as hell didn't wanna do that, so what the fuck was he meant to do?
 
"How do we help him?" You asked through a sob, your arms now sagged to your side as you looked up at him expectantly.
 
Goddammit fucking shit.
 
"We—" He began, scratching at his neck and sighing, "The only way to help him is to—damn it, you know what? Let’s just go—"
 
"I'm not leaving my dad for some random man I've known, like, a year!" You replied, holding onto one of your dad's hands.
 
He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing again. Why the fuck was it him who had to do this? Why did he agree to coming in?
 
"Gotta hit 'im in the head," He said, almost with no emotion if it wasn't for the light quiver in his voice, "Shoot him, smash his head in—whatever; you just gotta fuck up his brain."
 
"What the fuck?!" You exclaimed, standing up.
 
"I’ve been listenin’ to the news, kid. It’s either that, or we leave him here to turn into another damn Mrs. Penn!" He told you, a bit harsher this time, as if he wanted to get it in your head there was no way back from this now, he had to die one way or another.
 
You looked down, tears still escaping your eyes. He's a shitbag, you know he is. An addicted drunk but fuck. But he's your dad. Your moms been gone the past four years, and he's at least been there, he's made sure to give you money to buy groceries and his cigarettes, made sure that the house bills were paid, and made sure you at least had a home while he did whatever.
 
But fuck it. You don't want him to suffer and turn into some sick crazy, you love him even if you have the feeling he never really loved you, just wanted to stay out of prison for child negligence.
 
You walked down the steps of the porch and further into the garden, confusing Negan before he saw a pile of stuff hiding behind a rusted swing. Sports equipment.
 
He watched you grab a baseball bat, and his eyes widened. Well shit, if you weren't a little badass.
 
You practically speed walked back towards the porch, holding the bat out for Negan to take, "I can't—" You began wiping your nose with your free hand, "I can't do it, I'm not exactly beefy."
 
He smiled lightly at your choice of words and looked down at the bat, debating.
 
"Look, Kid," He began softly, looking behind you to still see your dad just staring off into space, "This is your dad. It's gotta be you," He stopped once he noticed the look of pure, well, nothing on your face, and shit did he regret his words.
 
"Alright," He sighed, slowly taking the bat from your hands, "I'll take care of this. You just— hide in the house, get some stuff, you're comin' with me and my wife," He watched as you walked up to your dad, genuine tears welling in his own eyes as he watched you slip a ring off his finger and place a kiss to his forehead. Fuck.
 
He watched as you walked into the house, he heard as sobs escaped your lips, and he heard as you ran up the stairs, probably towards your bedroom.
 
He groaned lightly, looking at the man in front of him, "Hey," He muttered, seeing if he'd respond. Not a word. You could hear a fucking feather drop to the floor.
 
"Look, man, I really don't wanna do this," He said slowly, adjusting his grip on the baseball bat, "But here's the thing: it's either this, or I let your little girl do it, and if her last memory of you is your bloody face. And honestly? I'd rather not do that to her. She seems like a sweet kid, and you—you seemed to have raised her pretty well," He smiled lightly, looking at the bat in his hands, "She's a pretty damn good batter too."
 
He looked into his cold, empty eyes and bit his lip. Fuck it. He had to do it now.
 
He hit him over the head once with as much force as he could muster, flinching as he fell to the ground, no fucking reaction. What the fuck.
 
But his hand was twitching, so he knew he was still alive, so he did it again, and again, and again, until the twitching in his hand stopped and he was limp on the ground, bloody and all.
 
How attractive.
 
"Kid!" He shouted, rushing inside the house and making sure to close the back door behind him so you wouldn't be able to see the full extent of the mess he made.
 
He quickly turned the tap of the sink on, scrubbing his arms so ferociously he's sure they'll be more red after the blood is cleaned off than when the blood was on.
 
You came rushing downstairs, backpack on your bag filled with the essentials. Clothes, underwear, your tamagotchi, your CDs, and your CD player, you know, the essentials. How you got those extremely expensive things, only the security cameras of the local mall shall ever know your secret.
 
You peeked your head into the kitchen, almost breaking down again at the sight of the bloody bat and the odd blood splatters on the floor.
 
Negan turned the tap off, turning around and freezing, suddenly unsure of what to do. He's never had kids, fuck, he's never even had a niece or nephew, he had no idea what the fuck to do, especially with one that was probably going through puberty, they're literally Satan's spawn at that age.
 
"You ready to go?" He asked softly, wiping the bat with a towel he found on the kitchen counter.
 
You sighed and looked down at your feet, "Yeah."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

You groaned into your hands, legs up to your chest as you sat on the steps of the front porch. You almost forgot what the world sounded like without music or a voice blasting into your ears twenty-four-seven.

Lucille was dead. Fucking cancer. Negan was weirdly calm and it was scaring you, to be honest.

The bat he used to kill your father, he'd kept with him for safety while the three of you stayed inside the married couples old home, at least it was cozy, you suppose.

It was a nice little house, you will admit you hated being stuck in the basement all the time, but even with the downsides, it was fun.

Lucille was a lovely lady, you two would mess around when Negan would go out on his runs for chemo or supplies, try on the wigs and listen to different songs on your CD player, her favourite was always The Fame album, she had a wig just like Lady Gaga's that you two would wear while dancing around the basement. Well, you would do most of the dancing, she usually just sang while laying in their extremely comfy bed (while you were stuck with a mattress on the floor, how unjust).

You ran a hand through your hair, tapping your foot a bit impatiently on one of the steps.

Negan was checking out a cabin the two of you had found in the middle of the woods, making sure it was clear before you could take refuge in it for the time being, and you just wanted him to fucking hurry up.

Your headphones had broken last night after just barely escaping a herd and to say you were pissed off was far from exaggeration. The silence of the new world was unnerving, it made you just want to batter the next thing you saw until it looked like mince.

You looked up, face resting in your hands, elbows poking your knees as you stared at the trees. Trees, trees, and more trees. You absolutely despise the woods by now, constantly inhaling the disgusting smell of the earth mixing with the scent of decaying bodies wasn't exactly pleasant to the senses.

"It's clear, we're good," Negan said, emerging from the front door and tapping your back softly with his knee.

He knew you hated the silence, the whistle of the wind, the shuffling of the leaves, the groans of the odd wandering 'Dead Fuckers', as Negan had coined.

And believe him, he was going to try his best to find you a new pair of headphones or some batterys, this little silent game you were playing wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

You let out a small sigh and stood up, looking up at him, the steps meaning you had to tilt your head back a bit more than you were used to.

"Day?" He asked, twirling the bat - 'Lucille', (fucking creepy), in his hands.

"July tenth," You replied. You'd been keeping track of the date since the beginning. You hated not knowing the true time, so the least you could do was at least know what month it was.

You walked up the rest of the steps to be more level with him, not that it really mattered, he was six foot one for christ's sake, might as well be Big Foot to you.

He nodded, tapping the bat against his calf as he looked down at you, leaning on the railing of the porch.

Seriously, the bat creeped you out. It's like he somewhat believed the bat had a sort of essence from Lucille, and it had you wondering if he was secretly some serial killer wannabe, you mean, hopefully not, you actually quite enjoy his company now he's not your teacher.

It didn't help the fact he had decorated the thing with some lovely, shining, barbed wire, which by the way, had ripped your clothes way more than you wanted in the past month.

"You know," He began, turning to look into the vast expanse of trees, "We could hole up here ‘til the horde catches our scent again, or whatever the hell it is those ugly fuckers do."

You played with the ring on your thumb, twirling it around, a habit you've picked up over the past eight months.

He sighed lightly at your lack of response, rubbing his beard a bit aggressively, more from annoyance than anger, he learnt easily that you didn't respond well to being shouted at, so he'd always keep his voice level so you wouldn't ignore him - or lock yourself in the closet.

"Got some canned chicken and pasta in there - still good. I could throw together a fancy little meal, maybe even light a candle. How’s that sound, Sweetheart?" He teased lightly, making you show a small smile on your face despite your current annoyance.

"Yeah," You muttered, walking closer to him so you could press yourself into his side, immediately melting once he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

He treated you like you were his own. He was like the dad you never had, and losing Lucille has been like losing your mother all over again, absolute fucking hell.

"I'll find you those headphones, alright? Promise," He began, squeezing your shoulder as he lead you inside the small cabin, "Just play it quiet while we're inside," He told you, looking down to be met with a haystack of tousled hair, God. He should've taken one of the hairbrushes before he burned the house down.

You smiled into his side, looking around at the interior. Festive, these people must've decorated for Christmas right after Halloween ended, and obviously before the world ended.

There was a tall Christmas tree in the living room, different little decorations scattered around, and there were baking ingredients on the kitchen counter, from what you could see anyways.

Too bad the oven didn't work, it'd be quite nice to make some christmas cookies with Negan.

It would've been even nicer if it wasn't the middle of summer.

"What time would you say it is?" You asked, looking up at him, only to be met with him already looking at you.

It's like he was constantly on guard around you, making sure no one and nothing could harm when he was around.

He looked up at the sun through the many leaves, squinting slightly, "Around...four, maybe? Gives us time to settle in, unpack our crap, and throw together some dinner,"  He teased, squeezing your shoulder, but in a protective way rather than a harmful way.

You smiled at his words, wiggling out of his grasp so you could set foot into the cabin. You expected it to be warm on the inside, as if it was the winter and you were on some family getaway.

But again, it was the summer, you'd probably cry if it was warm.

But despite all of that, you wore a scarf. A nice red one that had belonged to your mother. You'd always kept it in your bag pre-apocolypse because you knew your dad would crash out if he ever saw you with it, telling you to stop trying to mock her, saying you already look like her more than necessary.

But now, you could wear it. Could keep a little part of her on you at all times, and Negan had no complaints about it, why would he?

You smiled as you looked at all the decorations now, the garlands on the wall, the mistletoe on the ceiling, Lucille would've loved that. And then, you saw the presents.

"Negan-" You began with a smile on your face, "Can we open them?" You asked as you turned around to look at him, noticing he was already scavenging the rest of the kitchen's cupboards.

"What? You talkin' 'bout the presents?" He asked with a light scoff, but a smile nonetheless, placing the cans he found on the counter, and the moldy food in the old bin.

"Hell yeah!" You exclaimed, walking over to the small kitchen to help him go through the cupboards, "We can sit in a little circle- well, we can't really."

He watched you think for a moment, stalling your search in the cupboards and could only smile. You'd really opened up to him since he took you in. You were never even standoffish around him at the beginning, except for being quiet, but Lucille had managed to bring out your personality.

"We can make a circle," You corrected yourself, turning to looking at him, "You and I sat next to eachother, making a fence of sorts with the presents, yeah?"

He smile widened at the suggestion and he couldn't help but let out a small version of his proper, real laughs at your suggestion, one of the laughs you'd only ever seen him use around you and Lucille.

"Whatever you want, Sweetheart," He replied, closing the cabinet and looking at the array of food he'd placed on the counter. God damn, that herd better fuck off because you two could make a proper life here, atleast until you find a community or something.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed with a smile, twirling your findings in your hand, still in date.

"What?" The bearded man asked, worry in his voice despite the excitement in your voice.

You stood up from your kneeling position, holding the tub infront of you as if you'd just won a trophy, "Hot chocolate!" You replied, your smile widening even more, if that was even possible.

"You want that...in July?" He asked, scrunching his nose lightly at the idea. What kind of menace would do that?

You looked down at the tub, taking in his words. He made a good point, only a psychopath would drink hot chocolate during the summer, but then again, you'd both killed people, albeit you only did it once compared to his many.

"Yeah," You nodded, "It's instant so we just need to boil some water, we walked past that lake earlier, right?" You opened it to find some was still in there, thank fuck.

He shook his head slightly, taking the tub from your hands and placing it on the counter with the rest of the stuff, "Later, I'll make us that pasta and then we open the presents with a nice cup of hot chocolate, alright? Promise."

He seemed to say that a lot, and he never broke them. Like when he was driving you to his house on the first day and he promised you would love his wife, when you were getting bored of your CDs and he promised he'd find you new ones, when he burnt down the house and he promised you two would be safe, he hasn't broken a single one, and you trust him.

Even if it was over silly promises like this, you knew he'd make sure to never break them.

It'd been roughly three hours since you had found refuge at the cabin, and you were absolutely loving it.

You'd found battery's to revive your tamagodchi, aswell as some CDs in the bedroom, Avril Lavigne, and Fall Out Boy. It was all of their albums too, all in good condition.

But you weren't feeling something new tonight. You'd put your Lady Gaga CD on and listened as the tracks played one after the other, moreso focused on trying to make a nice little pile of presents, and fuck were there a lot.

Negan was focused on cooking the canned goods over the fireplace. Sure, canned spaghetti bolagnese mixed with canned chicken wouldn't be the nicest of meals, but fuck it would've been more favourable than the other shit they'd been eating the past few months.

At the beginning it was all okay, most people had fled Alexandria, meaning they could stock up on essentials when needed, and the dead never really surrounded the area.

But eventually supplies went low, as they do, so they'd been living off shitty rations. But, who were they to complain.

Your actions always broke his heart a little more, however. The way you'd give Lucille some of your food from each meal, despite both her and Negan's dismissive attitude towards it, saying she needed the energy to kick the cancer's ass.

The way you treated her in general broke his heart, like a mother. Sometimes he genuinely forgot you weren't his daughter. You were someone else's, who he had killed.

But he had to, he knew that, it was either that or let one more of those Dead Fuckers roam free. And he couldn't do that, he couldn't do that to you, either. He couldn't allow you to go on knowing your dad had turned into one of those.

He was brought back from his thoughts when he heard your voice, singing along quietly to the song. Paper Gansta.

He doesn't really like Lady Gaga, he's more interested in the good shit, like Led Zeppelin, but you call it 'dad music'.

"Turn it off," He began, already sensing the complaints you'll give him, "Dinner’s ready. But we’re eatin’ straight outta the pan ‘cause those assholes took all the damn plates—like that made any kind of sense."

You groaned lightly at that, but you didn't really care because you had utensils still, aswell as mugs for the hot chocolate.

You turned off your CD player, standing up from your kneeling position on the floor to grab a chair from the little dining table, waddling over to the fire place next to Negan.

He gave you a fork as you sat, smiling as you checked it for stains. One of your weird little habits. You wouldn't use a fork or knife if it had stains that could be scratched off, or if there were too many to be deemed normal.

You scrunched your nose slightly at the sight.  Disgusting. You hate canned food, you don't know why; you just do. But your stomach would growl in protest whenever any portion of food was shown to you nowadays, so you never found it in yourself to complain.

You swished your fork around, what you assumed was your side of the pot, cringing at the squelching noise, "Thanks," You smiled up at him, your smile widening when he looked at you with a mouth full of spaghetti.

"Ain't nothing, Sweetheart," He told you, patting your knee, "'Sides, it's mainly for me, I don't care much if you starve," What a fucking tease.

"You're a horrible, horrible man," You teased back, taking a forkful of the pasta into your mouth and smiling because woah. Actual food.

He couldn't help but smile. Not for any particular reason, just that it was you he was looking at. You who was teasing him, any other kid would've gotten a right smack for talking to him that way, but you were an exception.

He doesn't know why you mean so much to him, you're not his. He had killed your last living family member for Christ's sake - but you seemed to care about him too, and it made his heart swell a little bit for a child, let alone a teenager, to care that much.

He loved the way you'd squeeze yourself into bed with him and Lucille whenever you got a nightmare (he did secretly feel bad about you sleeping on the floor). He loved the way you kept track of the date, just for some sense of normalcy (he did not expect his twenty eleven to be going this way). And he loved the way you cared. You cared when he killed those people for you and Lucille, you cared for him the first few days after Lucille's death while complaining that he shouldn't be so okay this early on into her death.

"Do you think this is the shit that the Mayans were yappin' about?" He asked through a mouthful of food making your face scrunch in both confusion and disgust.

"Huh?" You tilted your head as you took another bite of food, savouring the way it actually had flavour compared to the other things you've been subjected to eating the past few days.

"The Mayans," He said again, his smile widening at the way you tilted your head, "Shit- you dunno who the Mayans are?" He asked you with a laugh, sitting back in his chair.

You huffed lightly, wrapping one arm around your waist as you deflated in your chair lightly. You hated how he'd act whenever you didn't know something - like a stuckup cow.

"I'm missing like- half of my school life because of this. I don't even know how to divide fractions," You mumbled through another bite of food, except you had the decency to cover your mouth, unlike someone.

"Man," He huffed, deciding he'd had enough food for now. It's weird, you're hungry from starvation, but due to starvation your stomach is around the size of a leaf (probably bigger, he's a bit dramatic), "I don't think I ever even learnt how to divide fractions myself," He confessed, looking down at you with a slight tilt of the head.

You laughed softly at that, but your smile quickly turned to a frown when you noticed he wasn't eating anymore.

He noticed this and smiled, closing his eyes and running a hand down his face as he groaned, scratching the end of his quiclly growing beard, gross, "I'm hungry - trust me I am - but your stomach shrinks when you don't eat much, I just gotta take a rest."

You bit the inside of your cheek at that, "Are you sure you're not just old?" You replied, albeit a bit cheekily, smiling at the glare he gave you.

"Don't be a brat," Is all he said as he went back to eating. You'd clearly hit a nerve.

You jolted when the sound of music hit your ears, dropping your fork in the pan and groaning, "Shit," You muttered as you sat up and began to walk over to where you left your CD player, "Shitty thing," You mumbled as you picked it up, but then it hit what song was being played.

Brown Eyes. Lucille's favourite song on 'The Fame'. She'd always said it reminded her of Negan, despite the fact he actually had hazel eyes, but tomayto-tomahto, it worked either way.

You frowned as the lyrics reached your ears. You'd made a point to ignore this song the past month and a bit because even the meer thought of Lucille bought tears to your eyes. She was such a kind-hearted, deserving woman and you just wished that Negan had let you stay with her instead of making you go on that run with him, claiming a child would give him sympathy points and less conflicts on his battle for chemo.

"You alrigh'?" He asked when he noticed you were just staring at the CD player. And he couldn't help but flinch when he noticed a tear drop splatter onto the plastic.

"Hey-" He hushed as he quickly made his way over to you, kneeling on the floor with his hand on your back, rubbing his thumb in small, soothing motions, "What's wrong?" He asked, pulling you into him slightly.

This has never been his strong suit, being caring and looking after people and all, but for you he could manage just a few words of kindness.

You started to genuinely sob into his shoulder at that point, gripping onto his shirt like your life depended on it, cringing as the feeling of wet fabric graced your cheeks.

"'S okay," He soothed, running his hand up and down your back now, "It's okay," He repeated, cupping one of your cheeks with his free hand so you could look at him, "What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

All you could manage to mutter was a very soft, weak, 'Lucille' and he immediately understood. He hasn't exactly been feeling that spiffing himself the past month, but he's been keeping it in for you.

"I know," He whispered into your hair, stroking the strands as if he was dealing with a china doll, "I get it, kid. I know exactly what you're feelin’ right now," He muttered, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket to take something out, a necklace. Lucille's.

It was a silver, heart-shaped locket that he had given her around ten years back on one of their anniversaries. Inside of it was a photo of them on their wedding day, and it always pained him to look at it knowing all he's done to her.

He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as he moved your hair away from your neck, slowly untying the scarf you were wearing, and delicately placing the unclipped necklace around her neck, clicking it in place once the heart was centre.

"Beautiful, just like she was," He smiled, wiping the excess tears from her eyes as you looked up at him. That same puppy-dog look she had, God. Maybe you really were their child.

You looked down at the locket, twiddling the heart between your fingers and frowning slightly, "But what if I break it? What if I-"

He shushed you with a finger to his lips, "It’s fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to remember her by- you deserve it. Hell, I’m not exactly the necklace-wearin’ type anyway," You smiled at that, looking at the scarf in your lap and frowning. You wanted the scarf on- but then that'd hide the necklace. And you wanted the necklace really badly.

Then, an idea popped in your head and you quickly shuffled closer to Negan, looping the scarf around his neck and tucking it inside of his jacket, practically grinning at this point, all earlier sadness almost forgotten.

"Ain't this cute," He smiled, patting the scarf before a knock at the door distracted him.

You looked up at the door, pursing your lips as you turned your face back to Negan as he started dragging you towards the bedroom.

"Hide, I'll come get you if it's safe," Was all he said before he gently closed the door, picking up Lucille from where she was placed and walking to the door, grunting when another knock came.

"I'm fucking comin', keep your panties on," He muttered as he slowly opened the door, his grip on the bat as tight as it's ever been before he froze.

What an odd looking man.

"The fuck do you want?"

"Just looking for a place to rest."

"Your name?"

"Simon."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Uno.""You're such a cheater," You muttered as you looked at the cards displayes infront of you. How come you had ten while we had two? Unjust."And you, Sweetheart, are one hell of a sore loser," Negan replied ever so smugly, a grin on his lips.He looked so natural like this; leaned back in the booth of the RV, his posture relaxed and you can tell his legs are spread because every now and then your foot grazes against his calf.To be fair, he was a tall man. And this was a small van.You like to think of yourself as an unaware poet."And who'd I learn that from?" You shot back, a little pout on your lips as you looked at your remaining cards.He'd just placed down a green card - and despite your great plethora of the colourful cards, green was nowhere to be seen.That's when you noticed the number of the card on the top of the deck, seven.Lucky you, you had a lovely little red card with a cute little white seven in the corner.You smile in triumph when you placed the card on top of his, immediately noticing the way his face drops and he looks at the card in his hand with a scowl."What's wrong?" You ask with a not-so innocent smile spread across your face, watching as he slowly but surely takes a few cards from the deck until he gets a red one."I'm gonna bash your little head in," He told you playfully, kicking your shin gently under the table, before quickly moving his foot away again so you wouldn't try playing footsies - he always lost somehow."Tragedy," You teas back, placing another red card on the deck - a two.He focuses on the deck of cards in his hands, debating whether to place down a 'plus four' card or the green two card.Just as he was about to place one down the sounds of synchronised whistles alerted you of what was happening outside.They're late.You weren't really sure about all of this - what they were doing to these people, what your dad was gonna do to these people.You could hear the soft murmurs of Simon's voice outside of the RV, probably asking for their weapons."What are you gonna do to them?" You asked, looking up at your dad - thinking back to that mullet man you already very kindly ushered out of the RV."I ain't gonna ruin the element of surprise for no one," He grinned, placing down his plus four onto the pile."Oh come on!" You groaned, crossing your arms and legs."No need for the anger, Medusa," He replied, the grin only ever growing."I told you! You're such a cheat-" But your words got interrupted by two simple knocks on the RV door."About time," He huffed with a sigh, lifting himself up from the booth and cracking his knuckles."Need me to crack your back, too?" You asked with a smile - he hated when you'd make fun of his age, always saying he's 'as youthful as ever' ever since becoming a father. What bullshit - surely that'd make you older."Just be nice and wish me luck," He grumbled, picking Lucille up and throwing her up in the air slightly with a small 'whoosh' noise."Good luck," You grinned as he opened the door, walking onto the steps slowly as he just took in the sight of all these 'Alexandrians'.You looked at the way they were lined up, person after person and frowned when you saw this woman. She looked sick - as in on the verge of death sick - and it made you feel a bit bad.Then, next to mullet man, as you've officially claimed him, you saw a boy with a cowboy hat.'Odd.'"Pissin' our pants yet?" Your dad asked, and you can just hear the grin on his face, he's such a weirdo, "Boy, do I have a feelin' we're gettin' close," How patronising.You yawned into the Uno cards still in your hands, then back at the CD player you kept next to yourself at all times.What was the time? Must've been at least three at this point, and you didn't exactly sleep well last night - and no way would the noise of a patronising middle-aged man lull you to sleep.You sighed softly and placed all of the uno cards to the edge of the table, making space for your arms and head to rest.Sleeping with your head on a table with headphones wouldn't exactly be the most comfortable, but it'll make do.So you picked up your CD player and placed it on the table, plugging the headphones back in and immediately flinching at how loud the song was playing - pressing down on the volume buttons aggressively as to quiet it down.Chris Isaak was a nice change to what you were used to. Negan was only into the 'classics' and you never really enjoyed experimenting with music that you didn't already know before the apocalypse - but it was a nice change, nonetheless.You lowered your face into your arms as the first song of the album started playing and sighed, almost immediately falling asleep just at the plush of your arms - it was no pillow but it'll do.Your nap wasn't very long-lived however - and it wasn't very pleasant. You could hear the screams of the people outside even in your tranquil state, their screams and cries infiltrating your mind and circling around.Fuck - you even heard a gunshot. Simon's temper must of gotten the best of him or something.But it was only when you felt a body barge into yours that you finally jolted awake, cowering into the corner of the booth as you looked up at the tall figure wide-eyed.He was sweaty, a heavy-breathing mess and shit - he looked rough."Shit- didn't realise you were nappin'," Your dad said with an almost apologetic tone in his voice, while the man just stared at you in shock, as if he'd seen a ghost.Which in all fairness, he might of well had. He hasn't seen many kids Carl's age since the outbreak, the few exceptions being the teenagers back at Alexandria and the children from the prison."Erm," You muttered as Negan tugged the man away from the booth so you had the room to get out, tapping his foot impatiently, "It's okay."You quickly took your headphones off, placing them around your neck, and picked your CD player up as you shuffled off the booth as quick as you could.You hated when your dad got like this - that crazy glimmer in his eyes, that cocky overbearing tone of his voice. It's nothing like the man you know, the man that you love and the man that loves you back.You gave the extremely sweaty man a once over (seriously, who gets that sweaty?) before quickly opening the door and trotting down the steps, almost frozen in place as you looked at the sight in front of you.All of the little Alexandrians were staring at you, even the cowboy, and especially the mullet man.You pursed your lips as you look at the mess left on the floor, two splattered brains - one that Lucille battered into and one that exploded due to a gunshot - a man and a woman.A familiar, sometimes scary, whistle took your attention away from the sight in front of you, turning your head to see Simon beckoning you over with his hand.You looked at the array of people one last time before quickly speeding over to where Simon stood. God, people have such judgemental stares nowaday - you can just feel the pairs of eyes glaring into the back of your head."That gunshot you?" You asked Simon as you neared, grumbling softly when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him.You liked Simon, no matter how stupid he was, because he liked you. Albeit, he had to like you otherwise your dad would iron his face off, but you could tell he genuinely liked you either way. He was like the uncle you never had."Got a bit angry," Was all he replied with, looking off into the forest as if he was trying to ignore what he'd done."He's gonna be mad.""He is mad.""Twat," Is all you replied with a small grin, knowing he hates when you use random insults you've picked up from the wide array of books you've been cursed to read since the outbreak, there wasn't much left to cure boredom nowadays."I fuckin' hate when you use those stupid English insults around me," He muttered with a scowl, looking back down at you."You got me the book," You sing-songed quietly, not really wanting these randos to hear into your conversation."Put your damn headphones on," He grumbled, unwrapping his arm from your shoulders and pulling your headphones on your head, opting to cross his arms instead."So stingy," You grumbled back, grabbing your CD player from your belt and pressing the play button.When you looked back at the lineup, you saw cowboy glaring at you, throwing daggers at you as if you had just done all of this. As if you were the one to kill...hm.Who did they kill?You looked over them all again, your eyes widening slightly when you saw the Asian man was still there, strange. He told you he had his eyes on that one. But then you looked over at the sick woman and noticed the way they were staring at eachother, as if trying to speak telepathically.They're together, you deciphered. Easy enough to tell. But he wouldn't spare someone because they're in love, that only motivated him more. A stupid young couple in love. So what is it-Oh.You looked down and notice a small bump underneath her shirt and pursed your lips.It's a barely noticeable one, she must only be around two, maybe three months along or something, but of course he'd notice.He always denied being a softy, that he didn't care what happened to outsiders as long as you were safe, and maybe Simon if he was in a good mood that day, but he had one weakness.Children.Ever since you came into his life he's had a soft spot for children. He never liked children, even though he was a damn teacher, but you managed to change him.He saw a family in the wild? Fuck killing them or robbing them, he's taking them in!He ran into a man just looking for food or supplies for his family? Fuck killing him for being an inconvenience, take Negan to the family! Let's bring them in, have a party at the Sanctuary!Hypothetically, of course. Parties were not a very well sought for thing at the Sanctuary.Your attention drifted away from the couple and towards the brains in-between the pregnant woman and a very pretty woman with dreadlocks to see the mess of what was previously a man.God, that's a sight.You think he was some ginger guy with a bushy moustache, or you've made that up.Then, you turn your attention to the empty space where sweaty man was, and looked at the body next to it.The girl Simon shot.You kick Simon's shin with your foot, lifting the left side of your headphones up."What?" He asked, looking down at you as if you'd done something wrong, projecting much."Why'd you shoot her?" You tilted your head as you asked. Your dad had his eyes set on two people - Asian man and whoever the other dude was, that's we he said to you. He'd kill two people maximum.So what the fuck was Simon doing ruining the plans?"Started screaming after your dad bashed the ginger's head in," He explained, leaning back onto a tree, "Started doing my head in. One of your dad's rules was that they couldn't scream - thought I'd do him a favour. He looked pissed though.""Well duh," You looked at him as if he just told you the sky was green and the grass was blue, "Didn't he tell you about the two people maximum thing?""Well it ain't like he was gonna actually kill the other guy once he found out his wife was pregnant, is it?"She was his wife too? God, two weak spots in a row.Although he likes to act like this tough man with a harem, Lucille still effects him. He doesn't love his wives, he's convinced he'll never love a woman the way he loved Lucille again, they're just therapy dummies to him."But still-" You began before the screeching of tires caught your attention, the RV making its way back to its original position.Sweaty man was thrown onto the concrete before your dad made his way down the steps, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and dragging him across the floor, into the middle of the lineup."Here we are," Your dad began, towering over the poor man, "Let me ask you something, Rick-" He paused for a moment, taking a few steps around him."Do you even know what that little trip was about?" He asked the poor man as he tried to find balance on the floor.Everyone just stared at him. Shock, sadness, or pity, you couldn't tell. Either way it was negative."Speak when you're spoken too," Your dad carried on, sounding as neutral as ever. God, he was creepy sometimes.But all the sweaty man- Rick did was breathe heavily, just staring down at the floor as if he had shell shock."Okay. Okay," He finally managed, his voice rough and scratchy, his breath still heavy."That trip was 'bout the way that you looked at me," Negan replied, looking down at him, "I wanted to change that."He paused for a moment so that Rick could turn his head to look up at him again, "I wanted you to understand," He dragged, pointing the bat at him."But you're still looking at me the same..damn..way..." He grinned, some form of emotion finally making its way to his voice, "...like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work."How descriptive of him."So..." He sighed as Rick just looked around. You don't know at what, you're not even sure he knows at what.He crouched down next to the shaking man, forearms resting on his knees and the bat between his hands, "Do I give you another chance?"He began playing with Lucille as he awaited Rick's answer, twisting her in his hands."Yeah," Rick finally croaked out, still not looking up at Negan. He was a man of many words, clearly, "Yes, yes" Many words.Negan tapped him on the back twice before standing up, rubbing his nose, "Okay," He let a small chuckle, "Alright. And here it is - the grand-prize game."He smiled down at him again. God, this was dragging on, it always did with him, "What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day, or just another crap day," He said as he made a motion towards the other Saviors."Get some guns to the back of their heads," He exclaimed, looking at you specifically as he said it.You sighed and took your headphones off and your CD player out of your shorts, placing them on the ground as you walked over to the lineup.You pursed your lips as you sped walk over towards the cowboy, well - now that you're looking it's a Sheriff's hat, but you prefer cowboy, and cocked your gun before aiming it to the back of his head.He didn't even flinch, damn, he was still on his knees."Good, now," Your dad carried on, looking at his little minions - and you, "Level with their noses, so if you have to fire..." He imitated an explosion noise with his mouth and mocked it with his hand, making you smile slightly at the actions, "It'll be a real mess."He grinned, looking up at you and then at the boy at your feet, "Kid," He muttered, pausing as he made a small 'come hither' motion with his pointer finger before pointing at the floor in front of him, "Right here."He waited a few moments, but when the boy didn't move he spoke again, "Kid...now."He finally began moving, standing up from his kneeling position and towards the two men, slowly, but surely."You a south-paw?" Your dad asked as he unbuckled his belt.'A what?'"Am I what?" The boy replied as sassily as ever."You a lefty?" He reworded his question, walking towards him.When will this fucking end, was the only thought going through your mind at the moment. This must be the most boring thing ever."No," He spat, still sassy. God, he's odd.Your dad stuck his tongue out and raised his eyebrows at him before looking at his left arm, "Good," He replied as he wrapped the leather belt around his long-sleeved flannel, tightening it and making sure it was snug."That hurt?" He asked, a small smile on his lips."No," He replied again, tilting his head slightly. God, this was a group of so many words.Negan began playing with the excess of the belt, grinning down at him, "Should. It's supposed to."When he didn't reply he just carried on, "Alright. Get down on the ground kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings!"'Ohhhhh.'He was Rick's kid, that makes sense. With the lack of words and all. Either that or your dad's calling Rick daddy, which you wouldn't put it pass him.He plopped the Sheriff's hat off of his head and through it towards you, causing you to catch it on instanct.He then ushered the boy onto the ground, face first. Ouch."Simon..." He called out, turning towards the beloved moustache man as you played with the hat in your hands, "You got a pen?"Oh.Simon loomed at him confused for a moment before replying, "Yeah," He replied as he began searching through his pockets, eventually pulling one out.Oh.He threw it towards Negan to which he caught it, of course, with a small smile, taking the lid off with his mouth.Oh.He crouched down towards the still figure on the floor with a grunt, "Need help getting up?" You wanted so desperately to call out."Sorry, kid," He grumbled as he pulled the long sleeve of the longhaired boy's flannel up, "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and draaaaging it right across the forearm," He said as he began drawing a line right below his elbow.What the fuck does that even mean? Where the fuck does someone even get that analogy from?But the boy just stayed silent, staring at the ground. In all fairness, that was his only option given his position, "There you go," Your dad said a bit triumphly as Rick peered over his son, "Gives you a little leverage.""Please. Please," Rick began whispering, the smirk on Negan's face never faltering as he took the lid out of his mouth and back onto the pen, "Please don't. Please don't."He won't, is the only thought going through your head as you spaced out, just staring into the inside of the crown.His rules are strict. Don't kill kids, Don't risk the chances of a kid dying, and the same rules for women.He wouldn't do it, especially to someone your age. He'd stop it before the possibility could even happen - probably praise him for his strength or whatever.But when you looked up, the words coming out of his mouth being blocked by the noises - of - well - nothing, you stared at the boy.He wasn't showing fear. Wasn't crying. Wasn't shaking. Wasn't anything. He was fine was this. He was fucking dandy with this. Men and their stupid hard boy acts.You stared back up at your dad as you heard Rick groan, "Oh my God," He exclaimed, "Are you gonna make me count?" He asked as if exasperated, "Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting."But he won't go through with it."Three!" He exclaims, holding up his fingers."Please," Rick croaked, "Please," He cried, the desperation evident in his voice. Shit. You knew your dad tortured people but actually witnessing it just felt a bit cruel, "It can be me, please!" He gasped out, tears falling and mixing with the blood splatter across his cheek."Two!" Your dad shouting, crouching down to be eye level with the broken man, the facade still going strong to those who didn't know.Rick was just rambling the same words "Please, don't do-" He cried before Negan slapped his with his gloved hand, only making Rick cry more.He gripped his chin with the same hand, forcing him to be eye level, and you swear you could here the dramatic music playing as they just stared at eachother, "This is it," He aimed the poor man's face to look at his son again before standing up."One!" He shouted, and the man still hadn't moved, and in all fairness, neither had the boy. But you weren't even sure he was alive, an android, maybe.But then, as his cries got louder, he gripped onto his son's hand with his left and the axe with his right.He was actually going to do it. You could see the boy whispering something to his dad but it didn't matter, he seemed so caught up in his own head.Rick finally lifted the axe with a shaky arm, his screams never ending. You sort of understand Simon, now.The axe was just dangling in the air as your dad crouched next to him, whispering something that looked a lot like his name."You answer to me," He said louder, "You provide for me," He carried on as Rick began nodding, "You belong to me. Right?"God, it's like some twisted romance film. Maybe that's where he got his inspiration for all of this from.And all Rick did was nod aggressively, looking back down at his son as he did."Speak when you're spoken to!" Your dad suddenly shouted, making you flinch and grip onto the brim of the hat."You answer to me!" He shouted again, "You provide for me!""Provide for you," Rick grumbled back."You belong to me, right?!" He shouted with so much emotion, so much anger. You don't even get why he's angry. He killed some people he didn't care about. You guess it was just about making a point, doing something so the Saviors won't judge his leadership.You played with the hat again, wanting to just ignore all of this and go home. He scared you when he was like this, made you wonder about whether or not you really knew him.But you die, you knew deep down you were the only one who knew him, the only one who saw the real side of him that even Simon didn't see."Ah," He hummed, "Dwight," He called, pointing the bat at a man with shaggy hair, "Load him up."You didn't even bother to watch as he got dragged into the van, instead outlining the rim of the hat and looking intently at the stitching - anything to just distract yourself.He hummed in delight as he stood up, looking over the people of the lineup, "Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!" He exclaimed, a grin on his face.He started rambling again, because of course he did. Ramble, ramble, ramble. That's all you ever got out of him.He walked over to your afterwards, wrapping his arm around you as he plucked the hat from your hands, throwing it behind him."You hungry, Sweetheart?""Fucking starving."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

You didn't get why you had to do all these things. Follow your dad to the different communities, help to carry things to the trucks and to be used as some form of pity party.You had important things to do in the Sanctuary! Like...listen to music. Or read the magazines about musicians you've found on runs. Or attempt to revive your poor little Tamagodchi.But no, now you're stuck in a van of brainless men and your dad, driving a couple hours away from the Sanctuary to go to Alexandria for the pick-up.It's too early anyways, you had plans today! You had cleared up your very, most extremely busy schedule for the special first ever Alexandria 'transaction' for a week. Not three days. It is not that hard to wait five more fucking days.You're not exactly the best at maths, limited education and all.You tilt your neck back so your heads settled on the headrest, your headphones covering your ears, of course. While you have Nirvana screaming into your ears, Kurt Cobain requesting someone to do some...unsavoury things.You play with the bat in your hands while Negan focuses on driving, doing all the spacial aware tricks you can think of while you just pray for this drive to finally be over."You smell funny," He finally said, hindering the silence from carrying on."You're charming today," You grumbled back, placing Lucille between your thighs and just staring at the delicate details of the barbed wire.He grunted a laugh and shook his head, his elbow resting on the door while his palm squished his cheek, "Not what I mean, Sweetheart. You smell like smoke."Shit. Shite. Scheiße. Merda. Merde."Must be smelling yourself," It wouldn't surprise you if he would do that, in all honesty, he's very in love with himself."Probably," He shrugged side-eyeing you for a moment before looking back at the road, "But it stains clothes. And I am always naked when I'm having a smoke."Your face scrunched at his words, immediately letting out a soft 'ew' as he gave a bit too much detail, "You're gross," You replied, looking at him with pure disgust.He let out a small cackled at your words, shaking his head while he continued looking straight ahead, "Man. You're too easy to tease sometimes," He replied, his smile never faltering."Seriously though, Sweetheart," He suddenly began with both hands now on the wheel, "Thought I told you to stop doing that shit. It was cool back then, but not now."You couldn't help but bite the inside of your cheek at his words. It was never 'cool' to begin with. It's a dirty habit. A deadly habit.But it's reminds you of before, that's why you do it. It reminds you of your mum and dad - the way they'd go out to the garden at night before your bedtime. The way you'd look down at them from whatever house, or caravan you were currently living in at the time and see them genuinely getting along."It's..." You began, before looking down at the bat in your hands, "Like Lucille. Memorial."He hummed at your words, looking at you in the corner of his eyes, "At least I ain't destroying my lungs with Lucille. Just others brains."You stayed silent at that, knowing he'd keep arguing reasons why you shouldn't be doing this - shouldn't be doing that - yada yada yada."You remember what Alexandria was like?" He asked suddenly, making a turn down the next road, "Our Alexandria."You didn't live there long. Only four years compared to the other eight you'd spent travelling with your parents. You'd been all around to the world, from Europe to Asia to South America.It was only when your mum died that you stopped, she was the main reason you guys even travelled - she was the main reason you guys had money.Her parents died young, and her family were rich. Like - rich rich. So she did what she'd always wanted to do and travelled most of the world, met a guy along the way, got pregnant, had her beautiful little girl that she named after her mum and continued her travels.It was never necessarily nice, never staying in one place long enough to make friends, to build a life, but the places you went to was nice - the new cultures - all that jazz."It was nice enough," You shrugged, tracing the barbed wire of Lucille with your pointer finger, "Prefered England."He hummed at that, unsure of what to say. He was never the travelling type. Preferred to stay in the place he knew and loved - Virginia."Would you look at that," He grinned as he eyed a sign with the words 'Alexandria' on them.You couldnt help but smile yourself. You've heard only good things about this community. Well, mostly good things. And you really really wanna know what the inside looks like."Gimme Lucille," He commanded moreso than asking as you handed the bat to him, watching as he hopped out of the car and began whistling as he walked towards the gate, swinging Lucille around as he did, one hand in his pocket."Dun-dun-dun-dun," He suddenly sang, making you grin while he began banging on the gates with his precious bat."Little pig, little pig, let me in!" He sing-songed, looking over to you as he said it with a grin. What an odd little (big) father you've obtained.You shuffled over to the drivers seat of the car you and him were situated in. You needed the practice anyways, and running over a few random Alexandrians wouldn't hurt.You watched as the protection wires or whatever were rolled across the gate, finally displaying the cars and vans the Saviors had bought for their little raid.Your dad just stood there staring at the random man for a few moments, a grin probably on his face as he spoke, "Well?"The odd man licked his lips before he spoke, "Erm, who are you?" He asked.Was he made of spare parts?"Oh you better be jokin'," Negan exclaumed enthusiastically, "Negan," He began, "Lucille," He continued holding up his bat, "My daughter," He finalised pointing at you inside of the car - making the random guys eyes widen, for whatever reason."I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression," As he said that Rick appeared at the front gates, a frown on his lips.'At least he isn't so sweaty this time.'They stared at eachother for a moment, a weird habit men seemed to do you've noticed, "Well, hello, there," Your dad chirped, "Do not make me have to ask," He told Rick more sternly.It was odd how his emotions could change from one second to the next, how he could be totally happy one moment then ironing someone's face off the next.Rick just shook his had as he walked up to the gate, "You said a week. You're early."The exact issue you had with all this, again, you had music to listen to, magazines to read, tamagodchis to resurrect.The gate made a gross creaking nose as it was pulled across, "I missed you," Your dad whispered, almost sensually.Freak.He chuckled as you heard the sounds of a Walker growling, looking out the window of your car to see one slowly but surely approaching the people at the gate."Oh, Rick, come on out here. Watch this," The greying man said enthusiastically, "Calling it!" He beamed, walking up to it with an odd pep in his step.He quickly swung his bat up, hitting the walker right up the chin as it fell to the ground.Negan laughed at his achievement, saddo, and grinned at you in the car before turning back to the little trio at the gate, "Easy peasy lemon squeezy!"You hate that term. He overuses it so much."Alright, everybody," He said as if he was a cowboy, making you smile slightly, "Let's get started," He demanded, and that's when you suddenly noticed all of the Saviors were out of the vans now. Shit. You probably should too.You opened the car door and hopped out, just leaning against it before you got any signal to acrually come help, "Big day," The man of the hour declared, making direct eye contact with the prisoner you guys had taken in from the lineup.He was alright, you suppose. Quiet, dirty - but that was expected given the circumstances - and he never seemed to thank you for the extra food you'd sneak him.Albeit, he probably didn't even know you were sneaking him food, probably thought plain slices of bread were a normal snack as a prisoner."Hey, Rick, you see that, what I just did?" He asked, walking closer to him, any closer and you might aswell be watching a romance, "That is some service!"What is he even on about at this point?"I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate," He points at the random man - at least he was random to you. He wasn't at the line up, "'Who is that guy, anyway?'" He imitates, despite those definitely not being the words that came out of his mouth earlier."Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's dome in?"In front of his ex-girlfriend too, low blow.Hah, blow, as in when you throw a fastball in baseball.Who are you even tryna explain this too? It's your thoughts."Nope," He finished, popping the 'p', "I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could've killed one of y'all."Y'all is such an odd word.He gestured with his hands for Rick to say something, probably a thank you, "Service," He grinned and laughed softly, turning towards you as he walked up to Rick, "Hold this."Oh. That was odd.Oh. He's making him hold it because he killed one of Rick's men with it, checks out.Negan looks back over his shoulder and beckons you over, resulting in you quickly following after him as he makes his way through the gates of Alexandria, making sure your gun was secure in the waistband of your shorts.Got into the drivers seat for nothing."Hot diggity dog! This place is magnificent!" He cheered, looking around. And to be fair, it was.A proper fucking neighbourhood, one of those suburbia ones you'd see on TV where they're all rich and cheating on eachother or having swinger parties."An embarrassment of riches as they say," He declared, eyeing Rick before looking back at the wide array of houses, "Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up," He chuckles.You look back at the prisoner the same moment Rick does, noticing the way the poor man is just - staring into the distance."Daryl, hey-""No," Negan suddenly said sternly, turning around and walking up to the pair, "Nope."Poor guy couldn't even get a few words in before being silenced.Your dad stood next to the prisoner - daryl, as you've now learnt, and pointed at him, "Hes the help," He told Rick, now turning his attention to the curly haired man, "You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him."As loving to his prisoners and new suppliers, as always.You sighed and opted to looking around again, not really interested in being apart of all this macho stuff, just wanting to take in the beauty of this place.Because, wow. It's big. It's beautiful. It's big. Just - wow."Alright, let's get this show on the road," He suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your haze as a woman - one of the ones from the lineup, walked past you, "See what kinda goodies you got in the cupboard.""We put aside half of the supplies-" Rick began before getting cut off. The moment he actually starts saying words other than 'yes' or 'no' he gets cut off, poor guy."No, Rick. No," He whispered, "You don't decide what we take, I do," He declared.You spaced out again as you looked at all the people you could see, taking in the way they stared as if in shock at what they were saying.Your dad clapped as the Saviors started walking into the neighbourhood, turning towards you with a smile, "And you, Sweetheart, can just explore the city. Really take in this new world."Dramatic wording choice there, "'Kay," You smiled at him, beginning to walk away - but making sure to keep a distance from the Saviors, they're icky to you.You walked down one of the streets of the rich neighbourhood, looking at the front porches and the freshly cut grass, the clean pavements and the clean windows.This was heaven compared to the Sanctuary.Then you remembered - holy shit. You're in charge here. You can just barge into whatever house you like, look around, really take everything in and maybe even take some trinkets with you.Man, being in power was great.You walked up to the steps of the first house you see, smiling once you noticed the door was unlocked and you could just prance right in - it was probably the same for the other houses, too.You looked around, staring at the paintings on the walls and the television on the small table.You're kidding, they had fucking technology here. Now this is what a Sanctuary is - whatever it is your dad's running.You crouch down and begin to look through the drawers, frowning once you noticed some Saviors walking into the house."Your dad wants you," One of the men say flatly, pointing to the door behind him.You two just stare at eachother for a few moments before you purse your lips, reluctantly standing up and following the direction of his thumb.'Really take in this new world' my ass."You see this?" You heard your dad ask as you walked into the porch of the house, some Saviors follow behind you with an extremely ugly chair."This is the kinda thing that just tickles my balls," He exclaimed, and that's when you notice Rick and Daryl following closely behind him."You're gross," You told him as you hopped down the steps to at a time, catching the attention of the three men."There you are," Your dad smiled, beckoning you over with a 'come hither' motion, to which you obliged, internally cringing when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. What happened to freedom of movement?You don't know what the fuck the amendments are."A little cooperation and everything is pleasent as punch," He continued on from his earlier words, targeting them at the two men following him."You see we really are reasonable people once you get to know us," He told them, pointing between you and him as some form of example. He probably meant you moreso than him."Honest," He muttered as he crouched down to a cooler, lifting the lid and grinning at the contents."Ohh, man," He groaned, taking a beer can out, "You want one?" He asked you, holding the icey beverage to you."No thanks," You shook your head, frowning when he just shrugs and starts chugging it.He throws the can behind him as he finishes, letting out a dramatic 'ahh' as he did, "Damn, I love this place!" He exclaimed, wrapping his arm (with a now very cold hand) back around your shoulders.You watched as a Savior approached with a camera in hand, calling out your dads name, "Somethin' you might wanna see," He said looking at him as he handed him the camera."Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He asked Rick, turning around to face him, "I got my fingers crossed for a little freaky-deaky," He told the man as he angled the camera away from you, making you scrunch your nose."You're gross," You repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today, his chuckle only making you frown.You heard the soft grumbles of a man's voice on the other end. It sounded scratchy, but familiar."Jee-hee-sus!" Your dad exclaimed, aiming the video at you so that you were able to see what was on it, "Is that you, Rick, underneath all that man-bush?" He asked with a grin.Damn. Like- Daaaamn. He looks mad there.You gaze off into the distance as you just watched the Saviors carry stuff out of the houses like a pattern. One after the other."Whatever happened to that sick girl?" You suddenly heard you dad ask, forcing you back into the conversation, "That seemed like a hell of a stressful night for her and her husband."Rick only glared at him, causing you to purse your lips, "Careful," Your dad randomly said, "Careful how you're lookin' at me, Rick."He chuckled as the leader of Alexandria stayed silent, but you noticed the way he was suddenly fidgeting with Negan's- correction, your precious bat, "Ahh, where is she? I was love to see her.""Do you care to pay your respects?" You suddenly heard, causing you to gasp and turn around, holding your hand to your heart."Shit," You let out, only soft enough for you to hear."Ho-ly crap!" Your dad exclaimed at the same time, whizzing around to look at the source of the voice, "You, are creepy as shit, sneaking up on me and my daughter, wearin' that collar with that freaky-ass smile."You're so bored."My apologies," Is all he replied with, "I'm Father Gabriel."God- Gosh, these people were weirdly civilised. They've got a Father and everything.You spaced out again after that, the implications of his word suddenly becoming clear. She died. The poor women died - the poor pregnant one at that.You wonder how her husbands holding up, whether or not he's dealing with it well."You go wander again, Sweetheart," Your dad said patting your back, looking at you with a solemn look on his face - a fake one, of course."As long as you let me do it for more than two seconds this time," You muttered, walking away from the little group of men, not ignorant to the way your dad chuckled and said something along the lines of 'little minx' to the poor, grieving men.You wandered a but before approaching what you assumed to be some sort of house of glory or whatever, entering the house with wide eyes.Wow. These people were living the life of fucking luxury, why did they feel the need to interfere with other communities when they could be living all peaceful here?You looked around the place, searching through the draws and twisting the bottle of pills you found in your hands, pocketing them as best you could.You turned around when suddenly a gunshot whizzed straight past your head.You quickly spun around, heart beating fast as you were met with the face of cowboy aiming a gun at you.Well, he's not really a cowboy anymore without his hat, he's just sort of boy.You stay silent as you stare back at him. It never really registered that he had a bandaged eye back at the line up - all you were really focusing on was the way he seemed so fearless."Put some back or the next one goes in you," He suddenly said, his finger on the trigger.You laughed softly, tilting your head at him, "You're stupid," Is all you replied with, because he is.Who the fuck shoots a gun at someone while they're being raided."And if you don't put that shit back you die," He replied, adjusting his grip on the gun as he stared at you. You weren't even sure if he was blinking.Your dad and Rick suddenly walked into the house, Rick's gaze never leaving his son's while your dad's never left yours, "Carl, Carl, put it down."His name is Carl? Who the fuck names their kid Carl post 1920?"No," He shook his head at his dad before looking back at you, "She's taking our medicine - they don't need it. They said only half our stuff."Your gaze never left his while he aimed the gun at you. He was even more stupid for aiming for the chest, saves the bullet for when you're gonna have to shoot them in the head."Of course," Your dad suddenly let out, standing next to you, "Oh-ho. Really, kid?"Carl - who you now realised must be around your age, give or take, turned his attention to Negan, despite the gun still being aimed at you, "And you should go. Before you find out how dangerous we all are."Idiot. Stupid fucking idiot. Why is he threatening the leader?Your dad seemed impressed with that though, a grin spreading on his face, "Well, pardon me, young man. Excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but..." He paused, letting out a soft sigh, "Did you just threaten me?""Did you just threaten my daughter?" He asked, moving closer towards him as Carl's eyes glanced over to you - the cogs suddenly turning in his head. Again, he's stupid.You were indifferent, you didn't really care about being threatened with a gun aimed at you, it was second nature in the apocalypse."I can't have it," He said, pointing at himself, "Not me," Then he pointed at you again, "And especially not her.""Dad-" You sighed, not really wanting this random boy to be punished for something you albeit, definitely didn't need to do in the first place.You got cut off by Rick however, trying to reason with his son, "Carl, just put it down," You just can't get over his name, it's so odd. Then again, so is Negan.You've never really thought about it before - Negan is extremely odd of a name.So is Dwight-"Don't be rude, Rick," Your train of thought got cut off by your dad holding his finger up into the man's face, but staring at you as he said the words, "We are having a conversation here.""Dad-" You tried to reason again, before he held a finger up to your face aswell. Rude cow.Carl tilted his head as Negan walked closer, clearly not amused by his words, "Now boy, where were we?"You clicked your tongue as he carried on taunting the poor boy, reaching into the pockets of your hoodie and taking the pill bottles out, looking up to notice the gun was no longer pointed at you.Shit- you need to stop spacing out. Actually listen to what's being said instead.You watched as he handed the gun over to his dad before returning back to his original place, your own dad walking up towards the leader.You looked back at Carl to see him already staring at you. You walk up to him as if you're approaching a stray puppy and hold the pill bottles out, willing him to take them."My bad," You mumbled, looking at his hands as you waited for him to take them back.His gaze flickered between your and whatever conversation your dad's were having before he snatched the bottles from your hands, placing them onto the island counter without saying a word.'Thanks for giving them back' - 'Thanks for being reasonable'.God, he's rude.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

You sighed as you stared at the long-haired boy sat in front of you, just sort of staring into his lap. Fucking babysitting duties - pathetic. Hes your age, as you've now learnt, he can handle himself. You sighed again, more exasperated this time as you looked up at the ceiling, hands rubbing up and down your thighs. "Can you stop doing that?" He asked out of the blue, turning his gaze to you with his arms crossed. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a small frown on your lips, "What?" "Sighing, it's annoying," He replied before turning his attention away again, trying to look anywhere but at you. You sighed again, this time just to annoy him, and stood up from your position on the floor, opting to search around the house a bit more. "Sit down." "You don't tell me what to do," You snapped back, looking at all the little trinkets on the coffee table and it's little shelf. He pursed his lips at that, his face scrunching up in annoyance as he rolled his eye, watching you while you picked things up and down. "Why'd you do that?" You suddenly asked him while you flipped through a random book you found on the shelves. "Do what?" He asked, that ever-living sass forever lingering in his voice. God, that's gonna get annoying. "Try to shoot me," You said more blankly, your gaze turning from the book up to him - where you suddenly notice that he was slowly following you around the house. What's he hiding? "You were tryna take our stuff-" "All you had to do was ask-" "I didn't know that!" "God," You groaned, shoving the book back onto the shelf as you walked away from the living room and into the kitchen, opting for a snack on this very long, grueling day. But he just followed after you, conscious in making sure you don't go upstairs - or that if you do you stay clear from Judith's room. "Wheres your cute cowboy hat?" You suddenly asked, rummaging through the cupboards and finding stupid shit like protein bars. You thought this little haven would have cookies or something. His brows furrowed at that, leaning against the side of the counter with his hip, "Its a Sheriff's hat," He replied blankly, crossing his arms. You huffed a laugh at that response, opting to find something in the fridge instead, "Yeah, but cowboys are more fun to imagine." He stayed silent after that, just watching as you pulled out some cucumber and placed it on the side, searching through the cupboards to grab a bowl. You began chopping the cucumber, the juices getting all over the side as you pushed them into the bowl, placing the knife on the counter and turning to the boy, "Cucumber for your troubles?" You asked with a small grin. He just scoffed at your words, running a hand through his hair as he looked away, staring at the very blank cream wall. "He won't hurt you," You suddenly reassured him, crunching down on some cucumber as you sat on the island counter. "What makes you so sure?" He asked since you've finally caught his attention. How would you know? Men like Negan are unpredictable - you don't know what they're gonna do until they actually do it. You purse your lips at that, the two of you having another little staring competition before you huffed, throwing a slice in the air and catching it in your mouth. "You dealing with the death of that pregnant lady well?" You blurted out without really thinking of the severity of the question, immediately internally wincing at your own words. It was his turn to purse his lips now; properly digging his hip into the corner of the counter, hard enough to leave a mark. "Better than how Glenn did," He let out, a small (fake) solemn sigh escaping his lips as he looked down, feigning some form of sadness. "Was that her husband?" You asked, before his wording caught up to you, "Wait- did?" You asked again, leaning forward slightly from your spot on the counter with intrigue. "He, erm," He mumbled with a shaky voice, to you it seemed like he was sad, to him he was just worried he wasn't exactly the best actor, "Killed himself. Couldn't really bare the thought of continuing on without his wife and unborn child." You inhaled at that, staring into your almost empty bowl of cucumber before exhaling, "I'm sorry about your loss," You finally replied, crunching down on a slice. He didn't reply, just stared at you, some confusion on his face. He didn't really expect you to say sorry, moreso expected you to have some snarky reply like your dad would've done. You finished the last of your cucumber and hopped off of the counter, placing the bowl in the sink before turning on him, "Give me a tour," You demanded before realising how you sounded, "Please."After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly with a silence so heavy between you not even Zydrunas Savickas could lift it - you bumped into someone new, a girl, presumably your age being taunted by a Savior. "Do something," Carl said his first words in a while, turning to you expectantly. "What am I meant to do?" You asked him, noticing the confusion and hint of anger on his face, "Man, they don't answer to me - I'm sixteen, they answer to the middle-aged man." "Bullshit-" He called with his arms crossed, it was only when you saw the very creepy looking Savior stroking her chin you felt the need to step in. "Shit," You muttered under your breath, walking away from your lovely new babysitting duties to the pair in the distance, hitting the dude on the arm to grab his attention. "What the fuck-" He began before looking down, noticing who had hit him and opting to stay quiet. It's sad, really. "Just give her back the damn balloons," You grumbled, raising your eyebrows when just stood there staring between the two of you. "Why am I meant to listen to you?" "Because they're balloons. We ain't throwing no parties soon so just give them back to her," You argued, staring into his eyes as he finally gave in, dropping the balloons all over the floor. "Petty cow," You grumbled to yourself, crouching down to collect them. They're all green anyways, who would get green balloons? You need to have some standards even in the apocalypse. "Be careful, little girl," You heard him utter to the brown-haired teen beside you before walking off, making you lift your gaze to see Carl staring at the both of you. You stood up, green (ew) balloons in hand and turned to her, holding them out without saying anything. She stared at you for a moment, seriously, what is Alexandrias problem with that? Before taking them from your hands. You gave her one more glance and a small smile, trying to offer her at least some comfort before turning around to see your dad behind a van, a smile on your face. He turned around the moment you came into veiw, beckoning you over with a wave of his hand with a grin. Fucking finally you can go home. You should of bought your music in, would've made the experience more fun. "Wait-" You heard behind you, a soft, timid voice that made you spin around and stop in your steps. You managed to connect the voice with the girl you just helped, her gaze looking anywhere but at you, "Thanks," She muttered, playing with the ends of her sleeves. "Erm," Is all you replied with, unsure on how to even reply. You're not used to people thanking you. You're surrounded by adults all the time, and adults hate kids - why would they thank them for anything? "No...problem," You finished as if you were unsure of your words, looking her up and down one last time before turning around again to finally leave this silly little place.