Don't look a gift horse in the mouth

Come on try and tell me what you're talkin' about

Those things you're dealing with, you're living a lie

Every time I see you it makes me wanna cry

Sometimes we laughed and talked, seems like yesterday

Then you let the white horse come and take you away

They came to get you, it was cold and black

The wheels were in motion, there was no turning back

Runnin' from an angel, runnin' to the devil, devil, yeah

Runnin' from an angel, runnin' to the devil

I gave up on you a long time ago

But there's something I want you to know

Your lyin' and cheatin' really tore us apart

Please don't come home if you're gonna break my momma's heart

Runnin' from an angel, runnin' to the devil, devil, yeah

Runnin' from an angel, runnin' to the devil

Runnin', runnin', runnin', yeah

Don't make me cry again, no, no, oh

Love that stayin' by

Love that you make me cry

You're runnin', you're runnin'

You're runnin', runnin, runnin', runnin'

Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no, no

Runnin' from an angel

Runnin' to the devil, devil, devil, devil

Runnin' from an angel

Time is singing by, time you made me cry, oh, oh

You'll do what you gotta do, I still love you

Her heart filled with equal parts relief and dread as the old factory came into view. Only a few more minutes of hobbling down the road and then she'd be home. Of course, home meant...Negan. With a sigh, she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth and pushed through the throbbing pain in her ankle.

Behind her a horn honked and she turned to see one of the supply trucks headed her way. She raised her arm and it came to a stop beside her. The driver, Gavin, leaned over and opened the door for her. With much grunting and effort she dragged herself into the cab of the truck. Thank the fucking lord it wasn't Negan.

"Thanks." She gave him a smile, the first real smile in a month.

"Yeah sure. Haven't seen you in a while."

She pushed her overgrown bangs from her sweaty forehead. "Been here, there. Running errands. You know….same shit, different day."

Gavin laughed. "Ain't that the truth, man. Say, what happened to your foot there?"

She grimaced. "That obvious?"

"Well, I saw you about a mile off the road, limpin like it was your job."

It was Nayna's turn to laugh. "Fuck you, dude."

He chortled as they drove through the gates. She nearly groaned aloud at the sight of the Saviors mingled around the yard. So much for slipping in unnoticed. She scanned the crowd for Negan, but his big ass was nowhere to be seen. Thank fuck.

As she slid out of the cab several Saviors came up to her and welcomed her home. She gave them all perfunctory smiles and made her excuses. Gavin climbed out of the truck and yelled, "Shit's here, help me fuckin' unload."

She waited until everyone's attention was on Gavin, to limp her way over to the side entrance.

She stopped and stared up at the stairs for a beat. The only way to get into the side entry was this fucking flight of stairs. Wrapping her fingers around the rail, she took a deep breath and pulled herself up. Her ankle screamed in protest as she climbed each step. Once she was at the top she glanced back to see if anyone noticed, but they were all too busy exclaiming over whatever the fuck Gavin had brought them.

One set of stairs down. Only five more to go. She shuffled inside and headed towards Dr. Carson's office.

The pills Dr. Carson had given her made her woozy. She had a feeling they weren't exactly the Motrin he'd promised her. She'd seen the horrified look on his face when he pried the boot from her foot. A swollen mess of congealed blood and pus.

He had wanted to keep her overnight in the little shithole he called an infirmary. She declined and promised to be a good girl and stay in bed for the next few days.

"If I get a whiff of a fever or a worse infection, I'll have Negan bring you down here himself," he swore.

"Yeah, yeah."

He shook his head at her. "It's a wonder you don't have a fever now. It'll be a damn near miracle if you don't lose your foot."

"I've had worse."

And so, he'd let her hobble her way out, boots in one hand, a bottle of pills in the other. On the third flight of stairs, the pain had faded to a dull ache.

She crossed the floor and slipped into the service stairs. The acrid sting of smoke made her eyes water and she coughed as her lungs burned. Had she really gone without one for so long that the mere smell bothered her?

As she propelled herself up the stairs, wheezing all along the way, she was glad she'd run into no other Saviors. The last thing she wanted was to have Negan alerted. He'd be attached to her like a fly on shit. No doubt bitching and moaning about her leaving.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of seeing him, though her heart skipped a beat in response. How she hated herself for missing him. How she hated him for not missing her enough.

Nayna jogged up the last flight of stairs. She pushed her way through the door and stopped, blinking and squinting in the dim lighting. The fuck? She didn't remember the lighting being so fucking dim. She shrugged to herself and fumbled through her bag for the keys.

The door popped open and she tossed the keys inside the darkened room, where they clattered onto the end table.

She felt along the wall for a moment, before she flipped the light switches on and nearly screamed.

Negan, who had been sitting across from the door, burst out laughing. He sat reclined with legs splayed open and Lucille propped on his thighs.

"Welcome home, doll."

She dropped her boots on the floor and hung her jacket, bag and bow on the hooks above the little end table. She stayed with her back to him a moment to hide the redness of her face.

"Word sure spreads fast," she groused as she turned back to him and leaned on the door frame. She didn't want to limp in front of him; didn't want to give away any weakness.

He grinned at her, all teeth and leering eyes. "You look like fucking shit."

"Always the charmer."

He raised his brow, though he still had his thousand watt smile aimed at her. "What the fucking fuck happened to 'It'll only be two weeks, Negan?' "

She raked a hand through her disgusting hair. "Ran into some trouble."

His eyes roved down her face, paused at her tits and her hips and settled on her heavily bandaged foot. His smile vanished. "The fuck happened?"

"Three walkers, a dog and some barbed wire."

"That sounds like the start to a bad fucking joke."

She bit back the urge to say that her life was a bad fucking joke. Instead, she stupidly settled for, "I don't think Dr. Carson gave me motrin," while shaking the pills.

"Fucking good. You need more than fucking motrin right now," he said, his gaze still fixated on her foot. A frown line appeared between his brows. If she hadn't known better she would have thought he cared.

"I don't want more than motrin. You know I don't take narcotics." She tossed the pills next to her keys.

"Trust me, doll, you're the last person in the world who would ever fucking get addicted to anything."

She said nothing as she studied him. His eyes followed her tongue as she dragged it across her lower lip. There was a little more gray in his black hair, and he'd neglected to shave.

He was the first to break the silence. "Come in and close the fucking door."

Now it was her turn to raise her brow. "Excuse me? This is my fucking room. Why don't you get your sorry ass out and close the fucking door?"

His eyes narrowed and he stood up. Negan stalked over to her, stopping only when his body brushed against hers. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing. He put a gloved finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look him in the eye. He smelled so fucking good.

"I think you're fucking forgetting who runs this place."

She swallowed. "Fuck you."

His eyes darkened. "Doll, you're already on thin, thin fucking ice with me."

She put her hands on his chest-her heart fluttered a little and she hated herself for it-and pushed. But Negan was as immovable as a mountain.

He put his other fist on her hip and she sucked in a long breath as she tried to turn her hot face away from him. His fingers slid down to her throat. Her heart pounded all the way into her rolling stomach. She found herself leaning into his grip.

"Shut the fucking door." His voice was deadly calm.

She looked into his eyes and nearly slapped him. He knew he was turning her on. He was expecting her to fight and sneer at him. He was hoping for sex.

With a smirk of her own, she kicked the door shut with her uninjured foot. "Happy, King Shit?"

There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, and he let his hand drop. But his stupid smile appeared a moment later. He put a hand on the curve of her back and guided her towards the bed. "Now that wasn't so fucking hard was it?"

"Stop being a condescending fuckwit." She sat down on the bed and he pulled up the chair in front of her, draping Lucille across her thighs this time. She stifled the urge to roll her eyes.

He chuckled. "What? She missed you."

It was his way of saying he missed her. Without actually having to say it. That time she did roll her eyes.

"Why were you sitting in the damned dark, waiting to pounce like some kind of fucking...cat?"

He leaned forward and tapped her knees. "Because, if I hadn't, you'd spend the next two fucking days avoiding me. And," his eyes darkened again and a shadow passed over his face, "I want you to hear what fucking happened from me, not someone else."

She sighed. "Can we please have this conversation tomorrow? I promise I'll come to you first thing in the morning, scouts honor."

"No."

"Negan," she rubbed her hands over her face. "I've been on the road for a month. I just spent a week and a half walking here. On a bum fucking foot. I'm so tired my teeth ache. I just want a fucking hot bath and to sleep in my own fucking bed."

There must have been something in her voice, because his eyes searched her face. "Fine, we'll have that conversation in the morning. But first, I want to hear all about your friends down at that prison."

She stiffened. Of course he would fucking ask.

"What, they cast you out on your ass, doll?"

"No." She wrapped her arms around herself, hardly noticing the scrape of barbed wire on her elbows. "I wish they had."

"Doll…."

She fixated on her boots across the room. "Don't."

She didn't want to say it aloud. As long as she didn't tell him, the last month would just remain a terrible dream and nothing more.

"Fuck, Nayna. I'm fucking sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks of their own accord. A rather large sob slipped from her lips and she gasped for breath. "They're dead," she panted. Another sob and another and another until she couldn't breathe. She was vaguely aware of him sliding Lucille off her lap before pushing her head down between her knees.

When her sobs slowed down and her breathing evened out, he shoved a clear plastic cup in her hand. "Drink."

She obeyed and handed him the shivering cup.

He tugged her to her feet. "Come on."

"Where-"

"-you need alcohol."

"You know I don't drink."

He gave her a bland smile as he opened the door. "You think I would let anything happen to you?"

"Negan…"

"You drink, I'll fucking stay sober, how's that?"

"I don't know…." God she wanted to go with him so bad it made her heart ache.

He put his hands on her shoulders and steered her out the door and down to the end of the hall. Slowly, they ascended the stairs to the top floor where his room was.

He sat her down in one of the ugliest chairs she'd ever seen and turned to the bar. "Pick your poison."

"Surprise me," she said.

He laughed. "You'll be sorry."

As he busied himself with whatever he was making her, she studied the room. She hadn't been in here since the night she'd left. Funny how so much and so little things changed in the course of a month. Hell, a month was all it took for the world to crumble into the utter shitzone it was now.

He put the glass of golden liquid in front of her and sat on the opposite couch, resting his ankle atop his knee. "Go on then."

She picked it up and sighed.

"Don't be a fuckin pussy, just toss that shit back."

Nayna rolled her eyes and slammed the drink in one go. It fucking burned like hell all the way down, but she kept her face neutral. There was a hint of pride in his eyes.

"Good girl. More?"

"No."

"It's okay to let go."

"I don't want a fucking hangover tomorrow," she lied, inspecting the glass. It too was new.

"You sure they're dead?"

She bit her lips and nodded.

"How can you be fucking sure? The place could've gotten overrun and they could've fucked off."

"There was a fucking tank in the yard and the fences were down. They're dead, Negan."

"Nayna, I'm sorry. I truly fucking am."

"I always thought that I'd go back, you know? I stupidly assumed they would be alright. I mean, we all survived together for so long, I thought they would always be there."

She shuddered as the alcohol began to hit her. Suddenly she realized the alcohol and whatever Dr Carson had given her were not a good combination. She felt incredibly light headed, though that could be blamed on her heartsickness.

She buried her face in her hands, ashamed to be crying in front of him. She hated herself for it and it made her cry all the more.

Negan knelt down, his hands on her thighs. "Hey, you're home now. It'll all be okay."

She peered at him through her fingers, through the tears and for a moment, the old Negan shimmered in front of her. The one she'd fallen in love with in the first place. Her heart hurt so bad thinking about him. It was enough to make her want to lay down and die right there.

"Doll," he murmured and stroked her hair from her face. She shuddered and leaned into his palm.

Her heart kept her rooted to the chair even as her brain screamed for her to get up and walk away. Screamed for her to run.

Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. He froze and her heart sank.

Both her heart and her brain now screamed for her to get away. Because it was happening again. Her hands came up to his shoulders and just as she was about to push him away, he cradled her head between his big paws and his lips slid easily over hers. Just like they used to.

He pulled her up with him, until her body was flush against his. She could feel herself melting into him and even though part of her knew this was a bad idea, the part that ached for him, for love, pushed on allowing her to open her mouth for his roving tongue.

He explored her mouth, so achingly slow. She wanted him to hurry up and she also wanted him to take his time.

His hand crept up her shirt, stopping just short of her bra. His thumb slid underneath and stroked along the curve of her breast. He chuckled at the sigh she blew into his mouth.

Maybe it was the bourbon, but she felt dizzy and unsteady. Or maybe it was just Negan and they way he always made her feel.

His other hand tangled in her hair, pulling back her head for better access to her throat. She giggled breathlessly, squirming against him, as his teeth scraped their way down to her collarbone.

By this time, he'd palmed her breast, weighing it, squeezing it, thumbing her nipple. She arched her back, pressing her body against his.

His hardness pushed against her belly and she pushed back, pleased to finally have elicited a groan from him.

The hand in her hair moved down to cup her ass and pull her in closer.

She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, letting her breast tumble completely into his waiting hand.

She crumpled his shirt and yanked it off over his head. Before the shirt had even hit the floor, her fingertips traced their way along the muscles of his chest, down to the scar on his side. Though she knew every inch of his body, inside and out, she needed to remind herself what it felt like to touch him.

Her lips quickly followed the path her fingers made. As she kissed her way down to his belt, her hands were making quick work of it.

He stopped her and pulled her back up and claimed her mouth again, this time kissing her with such force, her lips would be plenty bruised and swollen in the morning.

Negan reached down and grabbed her thighs. He hoisted her up and wrapped her legs around his hips. He carried to her the bed and as he lay her down he swung his legs over her.

"You fucking want this?" He whispered against her lips. It was the most erotic sentence she'd ever heard.

She wanted him to touch her all over. To stretch himself over her. She wanted to lose herself in him. Yes, she fucking wanted this.

Nayna answered with a kiss.

Being with him felt like coming home.