»»—- —-««

"You coming, Celeste?" A voice comes from downstairs.

Standing in front of the mirror that stretched to the other end of the wall and touched the tip of the ceiling, I take in my reflection as the nerves continue to swallow me whole that my stomach begins churning. Smoothing down the material of my short evening dress and running my fingers through the sable blackness of my hair, I can only imagine what'll be in store for the both of us tonight, if I can muster the courage to take the old bull by the horns. Sighing softly to steady myself, I begin making my way downstairs, treading carefully and glancing around the room as I do.

My families home was undeniably a mansion, a constant reminder of the future that awaited me, the type of people I belonged to and was in league with. The longer I remained in that house, the longer I wondered if I was to be anything other than the youngest daughter of a rich, dubious man. I always had.. speculations that he was a criminal in hiding. The list was endless.. and I just wanted out. And before me was that very salvation, meeting me with that warm, inviting smile as he stands in our small living room.

"Damn. You look… beautiful." He stares at me adoringly, the pesky heat rushing to my cheeks before he chuckles. "I was starting to think you were escaping through the window up there."

"So do you." I return, approaching him with a devilish smirk as he scoffs softly. "Course not. I couldn't leave you to deal with them on your own. We'd have no hope."

"Well, glad one of us is collected. God knows what your parents are going to say and do… At least we'll have potential witnesses tonight."

With a groan, I throw my arms around his shoulders to hold him close, practically purring. Watching him squirm was always kind of endearing. "Come on, Patrick. It's such a cliché that fathers will kill knowing their daughter's expecting."

"And you really wanna do this, this way? Let them process the whole engagement thing first, before dropping the bombshell of a grandchild."

"Nope. It's decided. No better time than any." I laugh in my throat, grin only growing wider as Patrick groans. My fingers run through and curl in his locks.

"I know the kind of shit you pull. If you leave me alone with your family for a second – "

"Baby…" I lean in to halt his train of thoughts with a soft kiss, then another. "Stop fretting. No matter what happens, everything will work out. Now, here's what we do. We go out, have dinner like a family, we'll talk and listen to my contemptuous father droning on about his incompetent work colleagues, shipment schedules and how I should get a real job… and when the timing's right, we tell them. Okay? It's all about the timing ~ "

Patrick considers me for a moment, before breaking into his usual sarcastic self, his hands coming to rest at my sides. "Sure. Sounds simple. Though I'll be surprised if I'm not castrated. You know what they're gonna say, right?"

"Trust me, it won't be as challenging as you're making it to be." A mischievous snicker then comes to the surface. "I have an idea, but with plenty of other people dining, they'll have no choice but to keep their composure. My family are really not the type to make a scene in public, they never want all that attention nonsense. I more or less have them cornered."

There's a small pause. "That's devious."

"I know."

Patrick shakes his head slowly, his ebony eyes studying my face with a sharp intake of breath. The number of thoughts that must be rushing through his head right. "Okay. Alright. Let's go." He swiftly wraps an arm around my form, pulling me to his toned chest before planting a kiss on the top of my head. He begins slipping on his coat, striding towards the front door. "Face the demons."

I turn to him, somewhat amused. "Excuse me?"

"My demons. I meant my demons."

»»—- —-««

The cool crystal water cascading down my form and gliding across my skin is still incredibly satisfying. Just the concept of having access to showers at all during the end of the world is bliss. It was like another small moment of normalcy between the moments of scavenging, evading flesh-eating monsters and tense encounters with other survivors. Unsurprisingly I had indulged myself the first time I learned about the Sanctuary's running water supply.

Days passed since the curfew incident, knowing they wouldn't be as forgiving if there was a next time. A image flashes back to me upon witnessing a man being punished severely, surrounded by many delivering blow after blow as he lay curled on the ground. Needless to say, that was when this place starting unveiling to show its true colours to me.

Feeling invigorated, I traverse to the food court, passing countless faces lurking about the halls. It's reasonably early that it's almost an empty room, though as more saviours begin to gradually pile in with me, I glance over their shoulders, searching for that familiar face. But it never comes. Averting my attention elsewhere, I hope to catch a glimpse of that blonde hair. But again, there was nothing, nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling of dread stirred in my gut. Up to this moment, it was becoming no mere coincidence that I'd not come upon her for some time, originally considering perhaps a result of clashing work schedules, but what if it was due to her condition? Had it grown worse? There was no way to cease the overwhelming feeling that something was amiss.

"Screw it." Huffing, I rise out of my seat with haste, barging through the crowd heading inside.

Without thinking more about it, my feet carry me through the number of maze like hallways, footsteps echoing off the walls surrounding me until I finally reach Madison's dorm. Peering inside, the only sectioned window was covered with a thick sheet of cloth, blocking out the morning sunlight to cast the room dimly. Before knocking gently on the wall, I spot her lone form curled up on her bed and a glass of water stood on her bedside. The brief sense of relief washes away upon touching the skin of her shoulder, she was burning up. Despite distinctly recalling Madison informing me she hadn't been outside the walls recently, I swiftly move to her side to check her over for bites anyway. Clear. But, some kind of fever? This was out of my own hands. Trying not to disturb her slumber, I momentarily sneak out of the dark room to make headway for the doctor's office. Carson assures me once again that it's nothing as serious as I was fearing when I lead him back to her room for an examination. I grab a cloth on the way and rinse it under some cool water to place gently on her forehead. He ensures that Madison has plenty of rest and fluids. It should be convincing, but it's not, my mind somehow doesn't settle. How much nutrition is she getting? Has she been working at all? Occurring to me that I will need someone's assistance with that, or rather permission, I sigh deeply. Great.

Hovering outside his door, I hadn't known to be biting my lip as I mentally prepare for the inevitable. Straightening myself and finally knocking firmly, there's a long, empty moment before a grunt and hoarse voice is calling me in. Upon opening the door however, I was met with a somewhat dishevelled Negan, the sight is new and unexpected that I was openly guilty of staring. Though clearly expecting me to be someone else, judging by the expression on his face, he certainly doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, hello there ~ " He studies me intensely, a smirk already forming. "Now this is a fucking pleasant surprise. You've already made my damn morning. What can I do for ya?"

I reply without a beat. "I have a request."

His eyebrows shoot up, catching his interest before motioning me inside. It's been a considerably long time since I was last inside his quarters – since we had spoken that day. While briefly admiring his luxurious room, spotting the leather jacket draped upon an armchair with Lucille propped up next to it, Negan passes me to enter his kitchen area, unsurprisingly near his drinks cabinet. Probably anticipating another long discussion. Leaning his weight back against the counter, he gestures to me, hands sinking into his pants side pockets. There was something unruly attractive about the stance. "Well, I'm listenin darlin'."

"Impractical as it may sound, I'm proposing the possibility to give earned shares to someone else. A friend... hasn't been able to work due to a fever - so it's possible she's a bit scarce, whereas I have more than what I need currently. Carson says it's nothing serious but who knows how long that'll last? That's just how it begins. She could be lying there for goddamn weeks." My jaw tightens. "Food, water, medicine, enough for her until she's on foot again." I explain.

"Listen…" Negan begins, coming off to approach me slowly. "I find it real fucking sweet what you're trying to do, but shit just don't work like that around here. You wanna stay here, you gotta work. Earn your keep. Word got out that I allowed this, every damn asshole and their mother would come to me begging for the same fucking favour, using this as an excuse for motherfuckers who don't do shit around here to get those extra little privileges. Gotta keep the little pricks in line, peaches."

I feel my features hardening, frustration at the situation setting in. "As I said; earned shares." I repeat in a low, business apparent tone, folding my arms.

"I'm sure you've worked hard for them. But it doesn't change my answer."

"Nor would you find me telling a soul. It's not exactly their business." I quirk a brow at him.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't. But one way or a - fucking - other, it'll get out. Everything that happens in here does and it comes right back to me. I just can't have that."

It would spread like wild-fire with several trying the same method, looking for loopholes. Unable to think of another way around this, I consider smuggling… but I wonder if I should even test my luck like that, since I feel watched from every damn corner of this place.

"Come on, doll. I shouldn't have to tell you that, that would be a big, fucking mistake." He emphasises with a dangerous grin, like he'd just cornered his prey.

I break concentration to his perceptions and catch involuntary amusement tugging at the corner of my lips, much to my despair. Touching my chin in an attempt to hide it, it came clear through my voice, as I hum. "Damn. You saw through that?" While I hadn't had faith of his agreement, I was still back to square one.

"Not the first to try, but we have ways to deal with that. Nobody wins."

There's something foreboding about that.

"Then what do you suggest? I stand aside and wait?" I click my tongue, getting restless now the longer I debate about it. With a shaky sigh and turn of my heel, I head for the door. He was probably right. "I see. This was a waste of time, after all."

"Wait a fucking minute, sweetheart. I get what you're fucking doing." Negan proceeds to stop me in my tracks. "Hoping to get a rise out of me, huh? Take advantage that I hate to see a woman displeased."

I glance at him over my shoulder. "Now if I really intended that, you'd know."

"Oh, but I'm onto you."

"Are you now?"

Negan ducks his head chuckling before licking his lips. "Look at you. Coming in here and tryin' to put me in my place. Goddamn. Almost gave me half a fucking hard on, on the fucking spot. But I do think you need reminding of who you're talking to right now." From the force of his stare alone, I feel cemented in place, knowing all too well this hint of seriousness underneath. "I like you, but that doesn't mean free fucking passes. Rules are rules. I know the risks of sickness in here, some pass in their fucking sleep, only to wake up for us to deal with them. I can tell you've seen that shit too. But Carson checked them more than once, assured you its nothing serious, right? Sure he's a prick but he sure as hell knows how to do his damn job. Soon as your friend recovers, they'll be back to working like nothing happened. That's the way shit goes."

Somehow hearing him lay it out like that, oddly eases my nagging thoughts. Carson was always a little evasive about it, causing suspicions that he was withholding information, though he still assured me she'd be okay eventually. Maybe I'd been anticipating the worst upon seeing it happen time and time again. Right now, it was too soon for that.

Running a hand through my hair that he follows closely, I give a nod. "Alright… "

"I get it. You have someone you care about." Negan shrugs a little dismissively.

Leaning against the wooden frame, watching as the man slips on his token, jet black jacket, I feel as though I should take my leave, before he suddenly speaks up.

"I hate to leave you doll, but I have places to be and shit to handle." As he advances again with Lucille now in his grip, he purposefully leans over without asking me to move, to open the door behind me as if inviting me to leave, when he lingers there for a moment, pulling back ever so slowly. The space between us is slim. Suddenly enveloped, Negan's returning musky scent becomes unexpectedly enticing.

In that instant, I have a longing to be wrapped up in his arms, hands clambering over my form. Boldly meeting his dark, half-lidded eyes, my breath hitches at the way he looks to have discovered all my secrets. Was my heart pounding hard enough to be heard?

Watching the rise and fall of the older man's chest, he makes no indication to act on anything. I can't decide whether it's relieving or frustrating. Undoubtedly, he can sense the heat as my sudden need for him continues to fog my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel that same rousing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's always the same, whatever defences I have, he breaks them down almost skilfully. All in that brief moment, I witness his pupils dilating again as he drinks in the sight of me, undressing me slowly with his lustful eyes. Too late realisation sets in that he's waiting for me to make the move. Anticipating it.

Before my body can even consider falling into Negan on its own accord, he pulls away to leave me entranced for a second. I gnaw my inner lip. The asshole.

"Now if you'll excuse me, my wives won't screw themselves… well, they might." Negan laughs heartily, motioning me outside first. "Now, ain't that a damn sight."

As soon as I'm back out in the hallway with him trailing an inch behind me. ""What a fantasy world you must live in."

Negan turns to me with genuine flash of offence at first, quickly morphing into the most fiendish grin I've ever received from him yet. I feel it won't be the last either. As if impressed, something between a groan and a laugh ruptures from his throat before swinging Lucille over his shoulder, not saying anything else as he strides off, whistling cheerfully. With a small roll of my eyes, I walk away in the opposite direction, absently brushing the ring of my finger delicately.

Within moments, noticing a spur of activity outside, I halt in the doorway, spotting two large pick up trucks parked in front of the main gate. Several saviours slurring profanities climb inside loudly, including who I can only assume is Simon closing the door behind them. My feet carry me outside in an attempt to settle my curiosity, finding a large, ragged man stood stiffly nearby, also observing the scene. I wonder if I'm the only one oblivious to what's going on.

"Do you know what's happening?" I ask the stranger, who looks me once over before answering with a sneer.

"What's it to you?" I flash him a firm look of warning. "Collection. They set out like this and come back with a haul of good shit. I hear it's Hilltop they're headed to this time."

"Hilltop?"

"Fucking hell. Another community."

So this was the retrieval of produce I'd heard wind about. Were they trades, or were they taken by force? If that was the true nature of this place, it honestly wouldn't surprise me. I frown. "How often does this happen?"

"Every week. Two weeks. Where do you think most of our stuff comes from? From runs?" He turns to me mockingly. "You ever been on a clearing mission out there? Well that's apparently the kind of shit we do in return."

Processing the saviour's words, I glance back to watch them pull out onto the roads, leaving a cloud of dust their wake. Often left wondering of such a huge community and its connections, now with potential confirmation of other groups trading or doing labour for us… hmm. Negan had more power than I originally thought. It also sparked my curiosity of the other communities, how they lived, how their own set of rules were. The people. Good. Bad. Were they any different from this place?

»»—- —-««

The following day, my group's been assigned another clearance mission, just when it felt like I was barely back from our last close run. Whatever hell were we in for this time. Hopping into the back of the truck, I rest my arm on my knee as I listen to the others loading up, a female with short cut hair climbing in next to me. To my surprise however, a form in the distance stumbling outside makes a sudden appearance to see us off – perhaps due our shared conversation under a week ago. Though supposed to be recovering, I'm still touched and relieved to see her face this once. To enhance this moment, the guys begin announcing themselves to the dead with their choice of hardcore metal music as predicted, feeling the harsh bass vibrating the whole of the vehicle. I'm sure our brains will be falling out of our ears very soon. Forget walkers. It encourages me to pull a finger gun to my head with a deadpan expression though despite Madison cracking a smile, I'm far more distracted by another unforeseen sight of Negan upon the balcony, with a wife in hand and Dwight standing beside him.

Loading my rounds and slipping a machete into its hold, I sense the earth-shaking eyes observing us closely from above. Why he'd decided to show himself was a mystery as usual, and neither short lived as he continues to stand there watching us prepare. Whatever reason, I catch the subtle glance in my direction, to which I pin him there.

"You all set?" Our same driver asks, leaning over in his seat to address me and the girl perched next to me.

I shrug it off and cock the gun before nodding and knocking on the glass as the last person climbs inside the truck. Apart from scavenging supplies and clearing areas, Negan wouldn't turn down the opportunity for new blood working for him, so when we do come face to face with the occasional survivor or small group, the offer is made. Cautious procedure of course, so it doesn't hurt to keep a watchful eye on them whilst holding a metaphorical knife to their jugular on the way back.

"Alright! We're heading out!" He yells cheerily over the music as we drive out at full pedal. Anyone would think we hadn't encountered a massive herd previously. The others don't share the same amount of energy as most of them slouch in sitting positions, heads hung with their weapons tucked in their laps. Hm. I should probably try and learn the names of these people..

Security from inside the walls of the Sanctuary slowly fades as we drive further away, leaving it all behind once more. With my best effort, I holler over the deafening music and throaty screams. "Remember. Don't waste ammo unless you have to!"

The burly guy booms just as loud as he regards me through the mirror. "What?!"

"I said, don't waste am – "

"What?!" He interrupts, a shit eating grin in the reflection.

I shake my head with a chuckle. "Alright, asshole!"

»»—- —-««