Simon leads Chuck to the stairwell and they begin to descend. He pushes Chuck gently through the first floor doors upon reaching the bottom and they make their way through the meandering halls to a back stairwell that leads to the basement, silent the whole way.

"What happened, Chuck? What did you do, kiddo? Why is Negan punishing you?" Simon breaks the silence as they approach several metal doors lining a long, dark hallway.

"It… doesn't matter. I just… want to get this over with, please."

Simon walks to one of the doors begrudgingly, pulls out a key, and opens it up. The room is small, just slightly bigger than a broom closet and completely stark except for a bucket in one corner.

This should be interesting. I don't really know what I was expecting, but…

"Get in." Simon motions into the cell and she obeys.

"How long will I-"

He closes the door without another word.

I guess that's part of the punishment, not knowing how long I'll be in here. This might not be so bad, I mean, I don't mind being alone. Sure, it's dark and uncomfortable, but it's not exactly torturous, is it? I guess I'm glad I'm not on "fence duty".

I wonder what's the longest someone has stayed in here. And do different infractions have different lengths of punishment? Like, "five days for stealing, one for not kneeling fast enough, SEVENTY-FIVE FOR FLIRTING WITH WIFE NUMBER THREE!"

She makes herself giggle with her internal Negan impression, but it fades quickly. She realizes that she must be getting delirious from lack of sleep. She paces around a bit, letting the gravity of her situation sink in, and then sits down on the cold concrete.

Hmm. Yup. This is going to get uncomfortable really quickly. I wish I had put on a sweater today. I could use it as a pillow. Or blanket. It's actually kinda cold in here. Jeez, I'm already complaining and I've only been in here, what, three minutes?

I need to keep my mind occupied. Think of something. I wonder what Negan's men are doing at Rolling Acres. Maybe they'll plant more crops. There's room for it there. Of raise animals. They might be more successful than I was at keeping them. I wonder how many people Negan has stationed there. Would someone live in my old room? Sleep on that bed… Okay, I don't want to think about that.

A song, maybe. I wonder if people are still making music out there. God, I would love to play something again. I probably can here. The fences are far enough away that the dead won't be attracted by it. I was always so afraid to play before. Even at Rolling Acres. I wish I had my mom's old guitar. It wasn't in the house when I went back there to see if she was…

I miss her so much. I wonder what she would tell me to do now. She always knew just what to say to make me feel better…

— Chuck's POV —

— 7 years ago —

"You okay, sweetie? The doctor said you can take your pain pills every four hours. You should be about due for some." My mom is staring at me from the other side of the couch, knitting a blanket for her work friend's daughter who's pregnant. The tv is playing an episode of Grey's Anatomy. I never really liked that show, but my mom absolutely loves it.

"Oh. No. I'm okay. I can hold off on the drugs for a while," I'm not really in too much pain at the moment. I have my cast left foot propped up on our ottoman, with a few pillows underneath it for extra comfort. I can't believe that I broke my ankle going down two stairs on our porch! What kind of a klutz does that? Ruined my whole weekend. Now I have to go into school tomorrow and try to hobble around to all of my classes. I haven't even really gotten the hang of these crutches, yet.

Ugh. And now I'm gonna have to talk to Coach Negan about how I can participate in gym. I can't exactly run, or jog, or do anything we're doing in that class. And I need the gym credits to graduate. Stupid me didn't get them out of the way early, so now I have gym class every day of my senior year to make them up.

"You sure you're okay? You're making a weird face."

"I'm just anxious about tomorrow. I'm going to have to talk to your favorite teacher about an alternate lesson plan, considering my condition." I lift up my left leg and wave my cast in the air as much as I can.

"Who's my favorite teacher?" My mom giggles a bit and I give her the "really?" face.

"Coach Negan."

"Mmmm." She nods. "Oh yeah. Coach Negan. He's so hot." She fans herself to hammer her point in.

"Mom! Don't lust after him so much! It's weird… and gross."

"Come on! You have to see that he's gorgeous."

"Well, yeah, I have eyes," I agree. He is a very handsome man. "He's just… my teacher. I can't look at him that way."

"No, you're right. You shouldn't look at him like that, sweetie. Stay away from older men. Especially ruggedly handsome older men. Who have that bad boy thing going for them. And dimples."

"Mom! Stop!" I exclaim, trying to stifle a giggle.

She laughs. "I'm just teasing!" She leans over and hits my arm playfully. "Well, why are you dreading having to talk to Professor HotBody about class? Is he an asshole or something. I bet he is. The really handsome ones usually are."

"Not really. Well, I mean… yeah, he kinda is, but not to me. He's only mean to the kids who are... you know, douchebags."

"Why are you so anxious, then? He'll understand that you can't participate. I'm sure he'll work with you."

"Yeah. I know that. I'm sure I'm not the first kid to break a bone. It's just that… just being around Negan makes me really nervous. I hate talking to him. It always gives me the hiccups."

"Aww! It's always so adorable when you hiccup!"

"No, it isn't, mom. It's embarrassing and makes me want to die." I let out a dramatic sigh as she makes an incredulous noise. My mom doesn't really understand what it's like to be awkward and quiet. She's perfectly comfortable around people. She never worries that she'll look stupid or do the wrong thing. "You've never really talked to him, so you don't know what he's like. He's just so…" I gesture my hands, trying to think of the right word, "intense. He's super confident. And loud. And he swears all the time. He also talks with his whole body." I throw my arms out and gesticulate wildly. It makes my mom laugh. "Being around people like that just makes me nervous. You know I'm weird like that. I didn't get your 'normal people' genes. I got dad's awkward ones."

"Well, you'll just have to think out exactly what you want to say to him and go over that a few times. Then you won't be scrambling to think of what to say when you're in front of him."

"Yeah. I think I'll do that. His prep period is the same as my study hall, so I think I'll talk to him then. I don't want to interrupt one of his classes, or anything. And that's the period right before my gym class, too, so it'll work out perfectly."

"There you go! No need to worry."

—

*Knock Knock Knock*

"Yeah?" comes Negan's voice from inside the room.

Okay, Chuck. Just open his door and go through the speech you have memorized. It'll be fine.

"Hi, Coach," I say after I open his door. He is seated behind his desk going through papers of some sort.

He looks down my leg at my cast. "Holy shit, Chuck. What did you do? Break your foot off in someone's ass?" He laughs hard at his own joke.

I chuckle a bit. It's kinda funny. "Uh, no. I tripped on my porch stairs like an idiot." I hobble awkwardly around to sit in the chair in front of his desk, leaning my crutches on the chair beside me. "But, uh, that's why I'm here. I needed to talk to you about gym class. I can't participate normally, so I thought that, maybe, I could write reports on a sport… or an athlete, or anything you want, really. I could do a report for every class to make up credit-"

"Fuck that shit," he interjects.

"Wha-"

"I didn't become a gym teacher so I could read fuckin' reports. No offense, kid, but I'd rather have my nutsack ripped off by a chimpanzee than read fuckin' book reports about the history of baseball or some shit."

"I, uh.." *hiccup*

Ugh. Great. I really did not expect him to reject my idea. Now I'm all flustered.

"Look, you're a good kid. You're not a little motherfucker like most of the rest of them. What grade do I usually give you? A?"

"Uh, y-yeah."

"Congrats. You get a fuckin' A this term."

*hiccup*

He starts to laugh at me. Ugh! "The fuck? You got the hiccups now?"

Yes, Negan. I have the stupid hiccups because I'm a crazy person and can't have a simple conversation without my body breaking down into a bundle of anxiousness! Of course, I never would say that out loud, so I just nod.

"Just hold your fuckin' breath and get rid of them."

I do as he said and my hiccups go away. Wow. That actually works. Good to know.

"So… what do you want me to do during class?"

"Fuck if I care." He thinks about it for a second while he looks at me. "Wait… you're fuckin' right. If people see you doing fuck all and still passing the class, I'll probably get shit for it." He leans back in his chair with a perplexed expression on his face. He casts his gaze down to the papers on his desk and a slow smile creeps onto his face. "You know much about football?"

"Um. I know that they score touchdowns and that the quarterback throws the ball…" I shrug. That really is about everything I know. I'm not exactly the sporty type.

"Do you know anything about fantasy football?"

"I've watched The League a few times…?" I give him a little shrug, not really knowing what he's wanting from me.

"Hmm. Well here's what we're gonna do. You'll come here to my office, this period and we're gonna work on my lineup and shit." He shuffles the papers around and picks one up that has a bunch of names and scribbles beside them. He puts it in front of me to look at. "This is my fuckin' team. I need you to look all these people up and tell me every-fuckin'-thing about them. What position they play. Their performances in past games. Whether they started or not. What the fuck is going on in their personal lives. Any fuckin' shit that might say how they'll play in the next game. Got it?"

"Uh… Yeah. I can do that." I think.

"I'm gonna take the shit you give me and determine who I'm going to play in that week's game. If the players I pick actually play and do fuckin' well, then I get points. If I get more points than anyone else in my league, then I fuckin' win the season. That's fantasy football."

"That makes sense… I guess."

"Good. You can start by organizing all this shit I have here."

"Okay…"

"I'll okay this all with the principal later today. It should be no problem. I'm still teaching you about a fuckin' sport after all."

That's how it goes for a few classes. I would do his research on whatever guys he wants me to and I would bring it to him, all organized. He'd pick out his players and fix his lineup for the week. It didn't take Negan too long to realize that this work doesn't exactly fill the entire period. Especially five days a week.

"Well, fuck. I didn't think this through. Now I feel responsible for educating you and shit for the whole period and keeping you fucking occupied."

"Uh. I guess I can just read quietly while you do your work…"

"You know how to play chess?" he asks suddenly.

"…Yeah. I can play." Why is he asking? That's… random.

He stands up and walks to a cupboard on his wall. He rummages around until he produces a wooden box. "Good. I haven't played in fucking forever. No one learns how to play fucking chess anymore." He sets the box down on the desk and takes his seat. The board is one of the kind that folds up and contains all the pieces inside. He opens it up, spilling the pieces on his desk. The two of us scoop up our pieces and begin to set them on the board.

"Oh, uh… I'm not very good, I don't think." Why did I say that? I know I am pretty good at chess. Not that I've played recently. I used to play with my mom all the time. And my dad. When I was a kid. Before he died.

"It'll be a short game, then."

We each take our turns, carefully making sure not to make any mistakes. I see his expression change after a few turns, from a smile to a tight frown. He is deep in thought with each move of the pieces. I admit, he is great at chess. I didn't really expect him to be.

"Checkmate," Negan says, finally letting his grin back on his face.

"Good game, Coach." I hold out my hand to shake his. That is just good sportsmanship. My dad would be proud.

"Why the fuck did you tell me you weren't very good?" he asks as he shakes my hand. "I'm fuckin' amazing at chess and I just barely won."

I shrug, not really knowing what to say. "I don't know…"

"Don't fuckin' do that. Downplay yourself. If you're fuckin' good at something, own that shit."

"I, uh. Okay... I will."

The bell rings signaling the end of the period. Thank god. That seemed like it was going to turn into an awkward "Do you have self esteem issues?" conversation. No, thank you. I don't need the pamphlet… again. I gather up my things and leave quickly, or as quickly as I can on my crutches, giving Negan a small wave as I pass through the doorway.

After a few weeks, I actually begin to get comfortable around Negan. We talk about football and the league as we play chess during our class time. Often, though, our conversations go to more everyday things and we get to know each other pretty well.

"There is no way you were a nerd in high school!" I exclaim between giggles.

"I didn't say I was a nerd in high school, I said a was a nerdy fuckin' kid. I was a chubby fuck when I was little. My family was poor as fuck, too, so I had no friends. Pretty much all I ever did was read all those same fantasy books you read now and watch a ton of sci-fi shit. And play chess with my mom.

"No way! You were fat nerd?!" I giggle. The thought of him being anything but the way he is now is just funny to me.

"Fuck yeah, I was. Then I switched schools and shot up 6 inches when I was fourteen. And started playing baseball. That helped with the whole fuckin' popularity thing."

"So you went from nerd to jock just like that?"

"I never really stopped being a nerd." He pauses. "But don't tell a fuckin' soul that, Chuck." He points at me and gives me a stern look.

"I don't believe you! Okay, okay. Favorite character from Lord of the Rings?"

"Aragorn. He's a badass!"

"Uh. What's the name of the ship from Alien?"

"Oh shit. Uh. Uh... Nostromo!" He snaps his fingers as he comes up with the name.

"Okay. Ah! What's this from, 'Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most human.'?"

"Really? Fucking Wrath of Khan. Everyone knows that!"

"Ooooh." I make a sarcastically impressed face. "Okay. Um… 'All those moments will be lost, in time, like tears in rain.'"

"Blade Runner. Next."

"'Put on the glasses!'"

He laughs. "They Live! I'm surprised you fucking know that one!"

"It's a classic! Okay, okay. Oooh, I know! You'll get this one. 'Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.'"

"Hmm." He thinks for a moment. "Nope. Don't know that one."

"What?! That's from Firefly!"

"Never heard of it."

"Oh my god! It's amazing! It was a tv show but it only had one season. But it was soooo good. You should look it up. It has hookers in it. You'll like it." I laugh at my own joke.

"Ha ha, Chuck. Very funny," he says sarcastically. "I shouldn't let you fuckin' talk to me like that, you know." He points at me as I move my bishop.

"Checkmate!" I exclaim.

"Fuck!" He snaps his gaze to the board. "You distracted me with talk of hookers!"

—

We're meeting in the library now.

I read the note on Negan's door. Really, Negan? I gotta hobble all the way to the library now? You couldn't've told me any earlier?

I make my way to the library as fast as I can, but still arrive after the final bell. No one stops me in the halls anymore, though, because of my crutches. Negan is waiting for me outside the library doors as I turn the corner.

"This way." I follow him to a table in the far corner of the library. The chess board is already set up and waiting for us. We take our seats and began to play.

"Why are we meeting here instead of your office?"

"Because I fucking said so."

Jeez. He's in a mood. I hate when he's cranky. It puts me on edge. He goes to move his pawn and I notice that his knuckles are all cut up and bruised.

"What happened to your hand?"

"I fucked it up." He snaps back.

Okay. No conversation this time.

Or the next time.

Or the time after that.

He hasn't been himself for a few days. Something is up with him, but I don't know what. It takes a week of completely silent chess matches before things go back to normal… ish. We still meet in the library, but Negan is back to his old self, it seems. I don't ask what happened and he doesn't tell.

"I'm getting my cast off next week, so I guess this will be one of our last games."

"Why?"

I'm confused at his response. "Why am I getting my cast off?"

"Don't be a smartass. Why would we stop playing?" he clarifies.

"Well, I figured I'd go back to my regular gym class."

"This period is still free for both of us. Why does you going back to gym mean that we have to fucking stop playing chess this period?"

"I guess it doesn't, really."

"Good. Because I think I need to kick your ass a few more fucking times to get ahead of you on wins."

"You're keeping count?"

"You're not?" He caught me. I am keeping count. And I'm ahead by four games.

"You can't just let me be ahead?"

"Fuck, no! There's no way I'll let you graduate holding that shit over my head."

"We're going to play the rest of the year then?"

"What, are you that bored of me?"

"No, of course not. I just always thought you were biding your time until you could be rid of me."

"Really? You think I'm that much of an asshole?"

"No. I didn't mean it like that." Did I hurt his feelings? I didn't know that was possible.

"I told you when we fucking started that I thought you were a good kid. And I haven't played chess like this since fuckin' college."

"Thank you, I think. That's a compliment, right?"

"Well, I meant it as one, so you're fucking welcome." He smirks at me, but it quickly turns into a frown. "The fuck you lookin' at, Brandon!" Negan yells as he shifts his gaze to look behind me. I turn my head to see a boy from my class looking our way.

"Nothing, sir." He stands there for a few moments then leaves. That's weird. I don't really know what to make of it.

"Uh. What was that all about?"

"Don't worry about it." Okay. That's all the info I'll get out of him. I know that tone.

"His name is Brendon, you know-"

"I know what his fuckin' name is. I just hate that kid. Stay away from him, okay? He's a douchebag."

I laugh a little bit at how Negan is talking about another student. He's not wrong, though, about him being a douche. I hate that kid, too. He always harasses me, saying how good I look all the time just to tease me.

Negan rubs his beard and looks a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he's not exactly back to his old self like I thought. "You know I would never be inappropriate with you, right?" he says quickly, as if he really doesn't want to say the words.

I'm taken aback at the sudden change in topic. I know that some of the kids joke with me about my "extracurriculars" so they say, with Negan, but I never thought they actually believed it or talked with anyone else about it. I wonder if that stuff got back to him and that's why he's acting so strangely. That would make sense, actually. He's probably just been trying to cover his back. A male teacher meeting with a female student alone in his office could seem suspicious. But if Negan were to have an affair with a student, I'm pretty sure I would be his last choice.

"Yeah, I know. I trust you. I know you would never do anything like that," I say genuinely.

"Good." He looks at me with a strange expression. Like he's trying to read my mind to make sure I'm not lying.

"So… My mom wants to invite you and your wife over for dinner sometime." I change the subject after a few tense moments because I really don't want to dwell on that uncomfortable topic. I wasn't lying, though. My mom had been trying to get me to ask him over for dinner for a while. She said she wanted to thank him for being such a good teacher to me. I figured she just wanted to ogle him.

"Hmm." He looks away, his expression becoming lighter as he looks back to me. "Yeah. I think we can come over on Thursday. Lucille will be fuckin' happy. She loves meeting parents and shit. I fuckin' hate it."

"Well I'll be sure to tell my mom that." We both laugh.

"I didn't mean your parents. You're one of the only kids I can fuckin' stand. All the rest of those little douchebags were raised by fuckin' big douchebags and I hate dealing with them. If your mom raised you right than she must be a pretty good woman."

I laugh. My mom would probably love to hear him say that. "I should've had you write my college recommendations. 'Chuck was possibly raised right and I can effin' stand her'." I make him laugh with my impression of him.

"You know, you can have a real smart fuckin' mouth, sometimes."

—

"Dinner was delicious, Diane," Lucille says while delicately patting the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She is very beautiful. Her silky straight dark auburn hair falls just past her shoulders and complements her icy blue eyes perfectly. Her stylish clothing flatters her petite frame and highlights her femininity. And she is the exact opposite of Negan. Quiet. Polite. Poised. With an air of nobility about her. I bet her family had money growing up. I wonder how she got with Negan…

"Yeah. That was fuckin' great. We'll have to have you cook for us more fuckin' often." My mom laughs. I warned her not to be offended by Negan's language. Not that she's against swearing to begin with, but Negan's style of cursing can be jarring.

"You're more than welcome any time. You've been so good to my daughter, Negan. You know, Chuck doesn't have many friends, so you taking an interest has been so good for her."

"Oh my god, mom. I'm right here," I say lowly. I know my face has to be bright red since my cheeks and ears are burning hot. My mom gives me a smile as if she didn't just embarrass me horribly.

"She's a good kid," Negan says while looking at my mother. Okay, guys. I am still here.

"Yes. You're a very fine young lady and I'm sure your future will hold great things," Lucille actually says to me, smiling warmly. She seems so amazing. No wonder Negan settled down with her. Jeez, she's so perfect that I kinda wanna settle down with her.

"Well I think it's about time for us to get fuckin' going. Ready, babe?" Negan says to Lucille after a few more minutes of light conversation.

"I suppose it is getting late. Thank you very much for the delicious dinner, Diane." Lucille makes her way over to my mother and gives her a friendly hug with Negan doing the same. "And very nice to meet you, Charlotte." She hugs me, too. I've never really liked hugging people, but she is so nice, so I soldier through it. I try not to be too awkward, which is a feat for me.

"Nice to meet you, too." I give her a smile.

Negan walks past me, giving me a small nod. "See you tomorrow, kid." He turns back to my mom. "Will you see us out, Diane?"

"Oh, sure." She follows them out to their car, which is parked on the street.

After a little bit, I walk upstairs to my room to get ready for bed. As I walk over to my windows to close the curtains, I look outside and see that my mom is hugging Negan and Lucille has her hand on my mom's shoulder. That's kinda weird. What are they doing? It looks like they're consoling her, or something. But that makes no sense.

I watch them speak to each other for a few more minutes until Negan and Lucille get into their car and drive off. I change into my pjs and go downstairs to ask my mom about the encounter. I find her standing in front of the sink washing the dishes from dinner.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"What, sweetie?"

"With Negan. Outside. I saw you talking with him."

"Oh." She clears her throat. "I was just telling him again how much his friendship with you means to me." She continues to wash the dishes, not raising her gaze.

"Jeez, mom. You're gonna make him think I'm some pitiful outcast or something."

She turns around and pulls me into a tight hug. "I love you so much, Chuck. I just want the world for you. And sometimes this world can be such a horrible place." She kisses my forehead.

"Okay, mom. I love you, too." I'm not quite sure what this is all about, but whatever. My mom could always be a bit overdramatic. "I'm headed to bed. Night." I pull away from her and turn to leave the kitchen.

"Night, sweetie."

— —

Chuck is pulled out of her memories by the sound of the metal door scraping open. She covers her overly sensitive eyes as light floods the small room. Negan's large form casts a long shadow onto her as he steps into the doorway.

"Come on, Chuck. Time to go." His voice is flat, emotionless.

Chuck slowly stands, stretching out her stiff limbs. As soon as she gets to her full height, she feels light headed. She tries to take a step, but her vision starts to tunnel. The last thing she feels before darkness takes over is Negan's arms wrapping around her.