Hey! So first of all thanks for giving this story a chance! You should probably know that while I fully intend to update as often as I can, I am a full-time college student, and therefore the updates might be sporadic! There will be a longer A/N at the end of this chapter, so I hope you guys like it!

Everything had been fine until I had led them out of the woods. It was a stupid choice, and even as I had been doing it, I had known that it would come back to bite me in the ass. I had just thought that it would be better for us to have a wider view of the surrounding area, to be able to see the roamers coming from farther away. Both Jenny and Thomas had almost been bitten, because of how easy it was to miss the undead fucks hiding behind the trees. When the trucks came, we were only ten minutes, maybe fifteen away from our camp. We had people there, waiting for us to return with another round of supplies. If I had just risked staying in the woods…

But it doesn't matter now, there's nothing to be done about the circle of men around us, casually packing around machine guns as if those aren't near impossible to find. Each one of them is armed to the teeth with knives and guns, seemingly ready for anything. All I can do at this point is try to remain calm, not show my group how fucking terrified I am right now, and hope that these people are nicer than they look. One man steps from the circle, half of his face a disfigured mess, and the rest of his buddies aim their guns towards us.

"Weapons on the ground, then kick them towards me." He orders, but no one moves.

"I'm not joking around here. Weapons, now. You don't exactly have any bargaining power here." I glance at my friends, silently conveying that we're going to be alright, before carefully laying my pistol and knife on the ground in front of me.

The rest of the group follow suit, kicking them out of our reach. The disfigured man smiles, then moves forward and collects our meager weapons cache. He walks them back to one of the trucks, and we wait in a tense silence for him to return.

"So, you the leader of this little group here?" The man asks when he comes back.

I nod, still unsure of these people's intentions. Obviously they aren't looking to make friends, but now I'm worried that they're after something worse. I mean, there isn't a single woman in this group, let alone any children, and that's got to say something right?

"This your whole group?" I lie through my teeth, thinking of John's two daughters back at camp. If we're going to die, that doesn't mean they have to as well.

"Look, you can lie to me all you want, I don't give a damn. But when the boss gets out here, you best be on your best behavior, alright? He doesn't take too kindly to disrespect." I force my face to stay blank.

"The boss? He sends someone else to do his dirty work?" Bad-mouthing this so-called boss probably isn't the best course of action, but I can't stand the look of superiority on this man's face.

His disfigured lips curl into a sort of grin, as if he's laughing at an inside joke.

"Get on your knees."

"Excuse me?" My voice is low as I take a step forward, my mind immediately assuming the worst.

"You heard me." The man shifts his gun in his hands. "Like I said, the boss likes respect. All of you, line up and drop down now, before I'm forced to take drastic action."

Once again, my group does nothing, only watches me. I glare at the man in front of me, but I'm not stupid. I know we're vastly outnumbered. So I do as he says, nodding to my friends for them to kneel as well. The man nods, then orders us to stay where we are before walking away from the crowd and behind a military truck. The men circled around us part to leave an open space, and under the belly of that truck, I see a pair of black boots step out of the cab of another.

Whoever this "boss" is, he walks slowly and deliberately, showing just how little he cares about this whole ordeal. My mind is racing, trying to figure out how to at least get my friends out of this situation, even if I don't make it. I glance around, taking in how my group is trying to hold in their fear. We've all learned that the true threat isn't the dead, but the living. That doesn't make it any less horrifying. I try to do some quick guess-work in my head; there are six of us, so to make it out of this, we would each have to kill two or three of these guys. If they didn't all have military grade weapons, that might actually be plausible. I watch as the man's boots get closer to coming around the corner. I am unsure what to expect.

Okay, so Plan B, try to make a bargain with this man. We don't have a lot of food, but hey, that's not something any smart person would turn down in this shithole of a world. I realize for the second time that there are only men surrounding us. I cringe at the thought, but if it would guarantee my friends' safety, then maybe I could offer him something else, something he might not have gotten in a while, what with all these men around. Unless, of course, he's gay. In which case, we're fucked, because Thomas, Luke and Jason are the three straightest men I know.

Finally, he steps around the corner, and my mind stops moving and sticks to one thought. We might die. After everything we've been through, this group—this man—could easily end it.

"Well what the fuck have we got here?" His voice breaks the silence, and he sounds just like he was asking how our day was going.

As if in slow motion, I take in his appearance. My eyes make a trail from his boots up his loose cargo pants to his tightly zipped leather jacket. As if afraid, I linger on the red scarf he is wearing before finally looking at his face.

I breathe in sharply, unable to tear my gaze away from him. There is no doubt in my mind, not when I can see his all too familiar dimples and salt and pepper beard staring me straight in the face. My mind goes blank, and I forget everything that has happened in the last ten minutes, every ounce of fear he orchestrated. Hell, I can't even find the strength to question the barbed wire wrapped baseball bat slung over his shoulder.

If I could speak, I would say his name, call out to him, but I can't do anything except watch as his champagne tinted eyes slide to each person in my group, making contact with each of them. I know this. He's asserting his dominance. Luke is the first, and even though I'm not looking at him, I know that he is fidgeting under such a harsh gaze. My mouth feels dry. Jenny is next, and she's probably sitting tall. He's only one person away from me. I feel frozen, waiting for him to see me… or waiting to wake up. Every step he takes sounds like thunder, and my gaze is stuck on every miniscule twitch of his mouth. When he reaches Jason, I see him stiffen beside me, defiant. It feels like they watch each other for hours.

Finally, finally his gaze sweeps over to me, and his smug grin falls away. His jaw falls an inch and the baseball bat slides from his shoulder. His arm jerks as the weight shifts, but his eyes don't leave mine. After a lifetime, he breaks the silence.

"Lucille?"

So, first off, this story will be slightly AU. I have read the entirety of the comic series and, as Negan is my all-time favorite villain, (even though I hesitate to call him that horrid word 3) I've got a lot of information stored up about him. I know about how he lost his wife, canonically, but I've decided to change it up a bit. I will go into depth on how they got separated later on, but in this fic, Lucille never had cancer.

For the rest of the story though, I will be sticking to the show's canon. This starts before Rick and the group ever get to Alexandria, but eventually we will be getting there, and most likely, everything that happens in the show will be canon for this fic.

I'm sorry if he ever seems out of character; believe me, I'm really trying to keep him as real as possible, because I love his personality so much! I welcome constructive criticism on anything and everything, so please leave some comments telling me what you like or dislike as we go! Thanks again! 3