She's a small and fragile little bird.

Graceful all the same.

Full of hidden power tucked within wings that are stowed away for later use.

For when she's ready to fly.

He sees that the first time he meets her.

Sees that hidden strength that everyone else missed.

But not him. No, Dwight sees it clearly.

And he won't soon forget.

When he first lays eyes on her, she's curled into the corner of a cement block room, feet tucked beneath her to protect from whatever predator walks through the door next. He immediately feels pity for the girl. She looks young, and by now she's probably lost the majority of her family - not that many can count themselves lucky enough to have any true family left these days. Whatever group she got separated from is probably long gone.

Or maybe she was already alone.

He can't stand the sight of her. She looks too fraile. Too innocent to have been scooped up by such an evil pack of wild dogs. The men here have lost their sense of humanity. They no longer know what it means to love or be cared for. They claim and trade and speak in vulgar tongues that only create a rise in one another for a petty glimpse at entertainment. They fight and they kill and they scavenger for whatever they can find, and then they give it all away for the illusion of safety. They give it away, because at the end of the day, none of it belongs to them.

It never belonged to them.

Everything is his. Or will be.

Dwight didn't understand the depth of Negan's cruelty until it was too late. He, along with his wife, Honey, and her younger sister, Tina, left the D.C. metro area with little food in their bellies and heavy packs on their backs. They never had much to begin with, so finding refuge in a forgotten neighborhood wasn't much of a downgrade. A few weeks into the start of the apocalypse, Dwight lost his job - as most of the lower class in the city did as well - so, the three of them crammed into a one bedroom apartment overlooking east D.C. and the Anacostia River.

This was not rock bottom, for that came much later.

Even after being forced to evacuate the area due to a surge of dead overtaking the building, they managed another month on their own. They ditched the city and found shelter on the outskirts of Alexandria. For a while, blending in and keeping quiet was enough, but when they reached the last dose of Tina's insulin, it was time to move on.

They found Negan's compound a few days later. More like the compound found them. They were taken in by three large guards seconds after stepping into the fifty foot perimeter, and despite protests from each of them, they were all separated. Dwight still doesn't know where the girls were taken that first day at camp - only because Honey still refuses to talk about it - but that day was the first time Dwight set eyes on Negan in the flesh. One glance up and down was all he needed to size this guy up. Negan was a bully - someone tougher and bigger than everyone else in the schoolyard, which meant he got dibs on everything. His followers didn't answer to him out of loyalty; they were afraid. Even with their smug faces and squared shoulders, it wasn't hard to miss the slight tremor in their hands as they held their guns. One wrong move, and they'd all set fire at his command. No need care about the target, as long as they weren't the ones on the receiving end.

At first, Dwight was allowed to stay with his wife in a room with no windows. She cried in his arms most nights in fear that they'd made a mistake, but he always reassured her that they were safe. They were fine. Everyone was told to pull their weight in whatever way benefitted the group the most, so Dwight took up ranks as one of Negan's officers. Most days he stood guard along the perimeter of the compound, but once or twice he was asked to accompany a group of men on a run. The thing was, they weren't looking for food or supplies themselves. They were being handed what belonged to other people. Dwight stood back and watched on multiple occasions while Negan's men tortured people for a few cans of peas or a set of nunchucks. It seemed ridiculous, but it didn't take long for Dwight to catch on.

Four weeks in, and Negan claimed his wife.

He forced her into having sex despite claiming that she had been willing, and when she came back to their room with a black eye and soiled pants, Dwight saw nothing but red.

Honey and Tina formed a plan to escape, and the three of them tried - if there's one thing Dwight will always be sure about, it's that he really and truly tried to get away - but they failed. Tina never made it back, because the dead claimed her before she even had a chance to run, and Honey was so heartbroken that she no longer saw the point in trying anymore. Eventually, Honey and Dwight were caught and punished.

After that, he wasn't allowed to see his wife anymore.

They exchanged short messages in passing, making sure the other knew they were okay. They were still alive, and that was what mattered now. As long as they stuck by the rules and kept their heads down, they were safe. Honey complied with all of Negan's requests of her, and Dwight sat back quietly, allowing it to happen.

He'd been somewhat tolerant of the new life he'd been forced into, but seeing this girl was a trigger. This girl - this girl reminded him too much of why he kept his head down. He hadn't expected it. When he found the other men laughing and congregating in one of the underground corridors, he thought nothing of it. He tried to avoid them and go about his business, but they pulled him in. Told him he wouldn't believe what they found unless he saw it for himself. It was a real prize. Something they were keeping for themselves.

Something they weren't planning to share with Negan.

He knew what he was getting into when he opened the door, but he hadn't expected her to look so… well, like this.

She's refusing to look at him, but she flinches when he closes the door. The sound of the other men jeering and whistling crudely in the background are now muffled, and after a few seconds, they fade away entirely. They've walked away, giving him time to enjoy his turn with her. He's not sure how long that will be, and he doesn't know what he's going to do to keep himself occupied no matter what the length of time, but he knows he can't touch her. Not because it would be wrong, or even because he still has a commitment to his wife - despite how tarnished her end of that bargain may be.

No.

He simply doesn't want to.

She may be momentarily damaged and beaten down, but he can see a tiny light still glimmering in her spirit, and he's afraid that if his corrupt hands laid one finger on her, he'd tarnish that glow forever. For all he knows, he might be the last straw for her in what must have been a very long, very degrading day. He can't bring himself to be the reason she throws in the towel. He can't be the one thing that breaks her after a ferocious battle for dignity and nerve.

So, after hovering for longer than necessary, he decides to sit. He picks a perfectly acceptable patch of floor in the corner of the room, and he pulls out a small wooden carving, along with a pocket knife. He's been working on this particular miniature since he was brought back against his will but has yet to really have to time to spend on it. Unfortunately, he was forced to trade a perfectly good, nearly finished one to a biker he thought better not to trust.

The girl looks up from across the room and watches him carefully but remains quiet.

If doing this gives her just an hour of peace, then that's what he'll do.

So, Dwight begins to carve.