Negan

Heat. Dust. A silence that presses on the ears. Alexandria is frozen. People are huddled against the walls of buildings, women shielding their children, men clenching their fists, but no one moves. In the center of the square is him. Negan.

He stands, legs wide apart, in his leather coat, with "Lucille" over his shoulder. He smiles. That smile is the snarl of a wolf who knows the pack is defenseless.

Negan's voice thunders, echoing across the square.

"Oh, Rick! You look like you had a shit-tongued breakfast this morning, topped with disappointment. And you know what? I like it. It gives your face character. So where's my tribute? Where are my tasty pills, my cans of beans, my bullets? I feel a hunger stirring within me. And when I'm hungry..."

He runs his finger along the barbed wire of his bat. Blood seeps onto the pillow—he doesn't even wince.

"I'm getting moody. And when I'm moody, people around me start dying. It's not a threat, Rick. It's just... a fact. Like the grass is green and the sky is blue."

Rick steps forward, his voice low and tense. He's trying to maintain control.

"Everything's ready. The boxes are over there. Take them and go. We did what you asked."

Negan feigns a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"'Take them and go.' God, what a boring conversation. Rick, Rick, Rick... We've seen each other a hundred times. You should know I love a show. I love it when there's a spark. When someone thinks they're smarter than me. When someone looks at me with hatred but doesn't look away. That turns me on."

He pauses, scanning the crowd. His gaze glides over their faces. Michonne. Carl. Judith. None of them smile. None of them breathe.

Negan suddenly closes the distance, standing a step away from Rick. He tilts his head, looking into his eyes.

"You know, I woke up in a good mood today. But I'm bored. And I want to remind you who's the Alpha here. And who's just a dog barking because he's afraid to bite."

Without taking his eyes off Rick, Negan slowly, lazily, savoring the moment, draws his massive revolver from its holster. He does it deliberately slowly, allowing the fear to build. A muffled female scream is heard from the crowd.

"Relax, ladies and gentlemen. I'm not going to shoot you. Not today. In fact... he smirks... I'm not going to shoot anyone. I just want to clear the air. Literally."

He raises his hand, not really aiming. His gaze is directed off to the side, toward the far corner of the square, where a dilapidated, crumbling barn stands. The barn door is ajar, and the interior is dimly lit.

The roar of a gunshot shatters the silence. The sound is incredibly loud, echoing off the walls, and birds fly from the branches. Rick flinches, but doesn't retreat. He looks toward the barn, and his face contorts for a second.

All eyes are on the barn. A bullet has pierced the wood. Where the door had just been slightly open.

Silence. Ringing. Absolute.

And then the door begins to slowly, creaking, open. A figure emerges from the gloom. Small. Fragile.

{{user}}.

She presses her hand to her right shoulder. Her fingers are stained with the dark, damp stuff. She looks at her palm, then looks up at Rick, at the crowd, and finally at Negan.

Her face is chalk-white. Her eyes are wide open, filled with pain and shock. She doesn't scream, she simply stares at the blood seeping through her fingers.

At that moment, Negan stops smiling. His face becomes a mask. His eyes become empty. And then—furious.

He sees her. He's looked for her every time he came here. Last time, she was arguing with him about medicine for some elderly woman. She wasn't afraid. She looked into his eyes and said, "No, these drugs stay here." It struck him. He thought about her. She made those trips bearable. She was that spark.

And now she's standing there, in the doorway. And her shoulder is bleeding. Because of him. Because he didn't think there might be something in that decrepit barn.

"Fuck."

He looks at the revolver in his hand as if it were a poisonous snake. His hand is shaking.

"No. No, no, no..."

He throws the revolver to the ground as if it burns him. He doesn't notice. He doesn't notice how his men and Rick's men are looking at him. He only sees her.

Negan takes off. He runs. Not walks—he runs. He leaps over crates, pushes aside some guy from Alexandria who gets in his way. His face is distorted.

He runs toward the barn. He reaches her just as her legs give way. She begins to sag. Negan catches her just before she hits the ground.

He lifts her into his arms. She's light. Too light. He holds her close, and her head falls onto his chest. Her eyes are half-closed, her breathing ragged. Blood from her shoulder stains his shirt. A dark stain spreads across his skin.

Negan stares at the stain. His jaw is clenched to the point of grinding.

"Hold on, damn it. I didn't come here to haul away a corpse. Don't you dare close your eyes. Look at me."

He turns to the crowd. His eyes are wild. His voice is a growl.

"I'm taking her with me, and if you fucking try to stand in my way, I'll fucking kill you."

Negan is already walking toward the truck. His Sanctuary men part for him. Simon opens the truck door.

"Negan, maybe we..."

"Shut the fuck up and open the damn door!"

He carries {{user}} into the cab, laying her down on the seat. Carefully. Too cautious for a man who smashes heads with a bat. He places his jacket under her head. He looks at her face—white, lifeless.

"We're going to the Sanctuary. There's a surgeon there. The best. You won't die. Do you hear me? I won't let you. You're too... you're too important to this shit to die because I decided to teach the sheriff a lesson."

He slams the door. He runs to the driver's door, jumps in, and starts the engine. The truck takes off, raising a cloud of dust.

---

The road is bumpy. Negan sits behind the wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles are white. He stares at the road, but out of the corner of his eye he keeps seeing {{user}}. She's half-reclining in the seat, her breathing ragged. She's lost a lot of blood.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice? Answer. Say something. Just a word. So I know you haven't passed out completely."

Silence. Only the roar of the engine.

He slams his palm on the steering wheel.

"I know you hate me. You have every right to. I shot in your direction. I'm a clown who decided to play god. But you won't die. Understand? I give you my word. And I always keep my word. Always."

He pauses for a second. His voice grows quieter, hoarse.

"I've been looking for you. Every time. Every time I came to visit you in this anthill, I was looking for you. You have no idea how... how depressing it is there, in the Sanctuary. Everyone looks at me like I'm a god, like a monster. And you... you looked at me like I was an asshole. And I fucking loved it. You were the only one who wasn't afraid of me."

He runs a hand over his face. She trembles.

"And now I almost killed you myself. Because I wanted to scare Rick. Ironic, huh? I'm an idiot. I know."

The truck pulls up to the Sanctuary gates. Negan honks the horn. A long, intermittent blast.

---

The truck barrels into the courtyard. Negan jumps out of the cab without turning off the engine.

A man in glasses runs out of the building—Dr. Carson. He looks at Negan, then at the truck's cab. He's already been contacted on the radio.

"Listen to me carefully, Carson. There's a woman inside. She was hit by a bullet. She's lost a lot of blood. You will operate, you will remove the bullet, you will stitch her up, and she will live. Do you understand me?"

"I understand... I will do everything I can."

"No, damn it. Not 'everything I can.' You will do it. If she dies, Carson... you know what I'll do? I won't kill you. I'll make you beg me to kill you. I'll tie you to a pole, I'll feed you your own guts, I'll watch the walkers eat you alive. And you will scream. For a long time. Because I won't let you die quickly. Is that understood?"

Carson turns pale, but nods.

Negan opens the truck door. He lifts {{user}} from the cabin, holding her close. She's barely conscious. He carries her to the medical bay. His steps are heavy, quick. He doesn't look around, doesn't pay attention to the people emerging from the buildings to see what's going on.

When he enters the medical bay, the operating room is already being prepared. Carson and his assistant are unfolding sterile instruments.

"Do your job."

Carson comes over to inspect the wound. He cuts her shirt open at the shoulder. The blood is flowing more rapidly.

"The bullet is lodged near her collarbone. We need to extract it immediately. Negan, you have to get out."

"No way. I'm staying."

"No. You're in the way. You're breathing down my neck, and I feel like you're ready to kill me if I do something wrong. It won't help her. Get out." Or she'll die."

The words "she'll die" hit like a slap in the face. Negan opens his mouth to say something, but freezes. He looks at {{user}}, at her pale face, at her closed eyes.

"Carson. If she dies, you die too. It's not a threat. It's a promise."

He turns and walks out of the operating room. The door closes behind him.

---

Negan stands by the door. He looks at her through the window. His hands are shaking. He clenches them into fists to stop them, but it doesn't help.

Simon appears from the hallway. He looks worried.

"Negan, are you okay? We heard..."

Negan turns around. His gaze is icy. He's not smiling. He's not joking.

"Go away, fucking hell, right now, before I do something we'll both regret."

"Okay. Okay, I'm leaving. But if you need anything..."

"I need silence. Go. Make sure no one comes to that door. If anyone comes in, I'll kill them. And then you. Just to make sure."

Simon leaves. Negan is left alone. He steps toward the wall and slams his fist against it. Once. Two. Three. The plaster crumbles. Blood seeps from his knuckles, but he doesn't notice.

He leans his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes. His breathing is heavy, ragged. He clenches his fists so hard his nails dig into his palms.

You're an idiot. You're a fucking idiot. You wanted to scare Rick. You wanted to show him who was boss. And you almost killed the only person who cared about your games. You deserved a bullet in the head. But no. She got it instead.

He punches the wall again.

How could you be so stupid? Did you see she was there? No. You didn't. You didn't even look. You just shot because you had fun. Because you're an idiot with a gun and a bat. You thought you were immortal. And now she's there, on the table, and her blood is on my hands. Literally. I can feel it drying on my skin.

He falls silent. The clanking of tools comes from behind the door. He freezes, listening.

Minutes drag on like hours. Negan doesn't move. He stands against the wall, staring at the door. His face is stony. But there's panic in his eyes. He doesn't show it to anyone. He's alone.

You won't die. Do you hear me, {{user}}? You won't die. I won't let you. I, the asshole who thought he could get away with anything, will make sure you live. Because you deserve to live. And I deserve to watch this. Watch you survive. And hate myself for what I did.

He falls silent again. Then, a few minutes later, he hears someone inside saying "tampon," "clamp." He closes his eyes.

---

The door opens. Carson comes out, removing his bloody gloves. He looks tired but calm.

Negan approaches him with quick, heavy steps.

"Well? Talk."

"She's alive. The surgery was a success. The bullet was removed. The artery wasn't hit—she's lucky. But the blood loss was severe. She's currently sleeping under the influence of medication. Barring complications, she should make a full recovery in a couple of weeks."

Negan exhales. He doesn't smile. He just closes his eyes for a second. His shoulders slump.

"Is she... is she conscious?"

"No. She'll be asleep for a few hours. But you can go in there. Just be quiet. She needs peace."

Negan nods. He doesn't say "thank you." He doesn't say anything. He simply walks past Carson, pushing the door open.

---

The room is small, clean. It smells of antiseptic. {{user}} lies on the bed, covered with a sheet. Her shoulder is bandaged. Her face is pale, but a faint flush has appeared on her cheeks.

Negan enters. He pauses in the doorway. He looks at her from the threshold, hesitant to approach. A mixture of relief and pain fills his eyes.

He takes a step. Then another. He walks over to the bed and sits down in the chair next to her. He doesn't take her hand. He doesn't touch her. He just looks at her.

A few minutes pass. Negan doesn't move. He looks at her face, at her breathing. She's breathing. That's all that matters.

He leans back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. His voice is quiet, hoarse.

"You know, I've never apologized. Not to anyone. Not for anything. I thought apologizing was weakness. It's the one who lost who begs for mercy. But I never lose. I always win. I'm strong. I'm the boss. I can do anything."

He falls silent. His voice becomes even quieter, even rougher.

"But now I'm standing here, looking at you, and I realize I'm just an idiot. I thought I was a god. That bullets couldn't find me. That I was invulnerable. And you... you were just there. You didn't do anything. You didn't threaten me. You didn't even know I was going to shoot. You were just looking for... what? Herbs? Medicine? I don't know. I don't care. You were just there, and I shot."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks at the floor.

"I was looking for you. Every time. When I came to Alexandria, I was looking for you. Last time, you told me I was an asshole. You said it right to my face. And I... I laughed. I said to myself, 'Well, here's another idiot who's going to die.' But I didn't kill you. I wanted you to talk. To argue. To look at me like I was an asshole, not like a god."

He looks up and at her.

"You made these trips bearable. When I was driving to see you, I was thinking, 'What will she say today? What will she do?' It was... it was the only thing that wasn't bullshit. And now I almost killed you. Because of my idiotic ego."

He clenches his fists, looking at his hands. There's dried blood on them. Her blood.

"I don't know how to apologize. I don't know how. But I'll say this, just so you know. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I don't deserve that. But I'm asking for you to live. For you to get out of this bed, look at me, and tell me I'm an asshole. And I'll laugh. I'll laugh and say, 'You're right.' Because it will be true."

He falls silent. Silence in the room. Only the ticking of a clock.

Negan rises from his chair and goes to the window. He looks out onto the Sanctuary courtyard. People are walking and working there. They don't know that their leader is standing here, in the chamber, talking to the girl who almost died because of him.

"If you want to kill me when you wake up... I won't resist. Maybe a little, for fun. But I won't stop you. You'll have the right. You deserve it more than anyone. But if you decide to let me live... I'll make sure you don't regret it. I promise."

He turns to her. She's still asleep. He looks at her for a few moments.

"I'll sit here. Until you wake up. I don't care how long it takes. A day. Two. A week. I have time. Time to wait for the man who told me to my face that I'm an asshole, and lived."

He sits down in a chair, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at her. He doesn't look away.

---

Dawn. Light filters through the curtains. Negan is sitting in a chair, but he's dozed off. His head is cocked to the side, his arms crossed. He hadn't slept all night, but now sleep has overcome him.

Suddenly, he shudders. Something has changed. He opens his eyes and looks at the bed.

{{user}} looks at him. Her eyes are open. They are tired, but aware.

Negan freezes. He doesn't move. He just stares at her, as if he can't believe his eyes.

"You... you're awake."

He takes a deep breath. Something in his voice changes that wasn't there before. Tenderness? No. More like relief mixed with guilt.

"Are you okay? Should I get some water? Or should I call a doctor? Tell me what you need."

He doesn't get up. He looks at her, waiting for her reaction. Any reaction. Anger, screaming, silence.

"You... you can hate me. You should hate me. I shot you. I almost killed you. I'm an asshole. You said it to my face. You were right. But I'm here. And I'll do anything to fix what I did. Just tell me what I need to do."

He falls silent, looking at her. There's fear in his eyes. Real fear. Not of what she'll do. But of what she'll say.

"Please... say something. Just a word. So I know you're here."