The text in this chapter and the next will be Italicized because... well, that'll be explained in the next chap (where Negan and Georgia will finally shag! Yay!)

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. Otherwise, enjoy!

"Oh hell yes!"

Georgia hurried over to the overturned car, one of many on the abandoned back alley that they'd come across during that run. The car's windows were already broken; Georgia, after checking if it was safe, put her arm through and took the baseball cap out of the passenger side. It was navy blue with a cursive letter W written in white at the front – in support of the Washington Nationals, probably.

More excited than she'd been in a while, she pulled the cap onto her head and rushed to catch up with the rest of the group. They were searching through the trunks of cars and trucks, despite the very low likelihood of finding something. Her new head accessory wasn't overlooked; a good number of them just acknowledged it with a raised brow or a quick snort, but it was Negan who seemed most delighted by it, perhaps even more than Georgia herself.

"Hot damn!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, I'm more of a Giants man myself, but you do look fucking good in baseball gear, doll."

Georgia scoffed. "Giants?"

"If only cuz they had the greatest center fielder of all time."

"Which was?"

"Willie Mays, obviously."

"Obviously!" Again, Georgia scoffed. "Obviously, the greatest center fielder of all time wasn't Willie Mays. It was Mickey Mantle."

It soon became clear that neither of them were going to back down. Negan, as experienced as he was, still made sure to keep a close eye on their surroundings as well as his men; but when he saw that everything was in place, he proceeded to lecture Georgia on how The Say Hey Kid was better than The Mick. She, in turn, challenged his every word.

"Willie could steal more bases than Mickey ever could," he said.

"That's just because Mickey had bad legs. He was scared he would injure them – but he could still run faster than Mays! And besides, could Willie bat with his left hand?"

"Being ambidextrous doesn't fucking mean you're a better player, doll." Negan sneered. "Willie had 660 homeruns, while Mantle had – what, 500 plus? Weak."

"Willie only had more homeruns because he played longer. And Mickey was pronounced one of the best hunters in the game; Mays wasn't."

"Willie had intuition that Mantle could only fucking dream about, doll – and yeah, sure, Mickey was quick as a fucking cheetah, but he didn't have that killer instinct that Willie had when it came to getting the jump on the ball."

Another case flashed across Georgia's mind, one that was undoubtedly petty and trivial when it came to statistics, but it was sure to get him to shut up, and that was all she really wanted at that moment. "And how many championships has Willie Mays' team won?"

Negan's eyes narrowed into slits. He probably knew what she was getting to, but, through gritted teeth, he answered anyway, "One."

"The Yankees have won seven." Shrugging, Georgia walked off and over to Dwight, who was at the moment trying to unlock the latch of a semitrailer. She could feel Negan's eyes burning holes into the back of her head. She did her best to stamp down on her growing smugness and instead offered to break the lock on the trailer using her bat.

The latch gave way easily enough. Dwight pushed the door up. In his eagerness, he had thrown all caution to the wind; his gun remained hanging by his side. Before the door was even all the way up, a Roamer walked out of the opening, catching Dwight by surprise as it landed on top of him on the way to the ground.

Georgia was quick to swing her bat. The Roamer was forced to the side, off of Dwight, where she proceeded to give its head a double tap. From within the trailer, two more Roamers appeared from behind stacks of cardboard boxes. Georgia helped Dwight to his feet, yet before any of the Saviors could gun down the danger, Negan suddenly stepped up, whistling as he swung his bat.

"Back up," he barked. There was that glint of danger in his eyes, always present whenever he was taking down a Roamer, but there was a hint of mischievousness as well. "Watch how it's done, Mickey."

With pursed lips, Georgia stood back, like the rest of them, while Negan took care of the two remaining Roamers. Four well-placed swings and the dead were lifeless on the ground, as they should have been. Negan whipped around, smirking right at Georgia; she was startled to realize that she'd practically been ogling him all the while.

He had opted to leave his leather jacket back at Sanctuary, as the days had started to become hot again. A thin white shirt, made even thinner because of his sweat, barely left anything to the imagination. His lean yet strong figure was made ever more prominent as he'd swung Lucille, muscles shifting and rolling with each attack. Georgia had been all but transfixed, until he turned his gaze to her, at which point she regained enough sense to look away.

"Think there's anything good in there?" said Joey – he used to be called Thin Joey, so there would be no confusion between him and Fat Joey, but since the latter had passed, there was no harm in calling him by his real name anymore.

Georgia kicked one of the three Roamers they'd killed. "They're freshly turned," she said. "If they survived being locked in there for so long, then they must have had something to survive on."

"Then how'd they die if they didn't starve?"

"Probably ran out of air. No holes whatsoever in here." She had jumped into the semi by then, quickly tearing into one of the few boxes that had been left sealed. Sure enough, inside were rows of canned goods piled on top of each other. "Food," she called out.

"Dwight, go check if you can get this one running," Negan ordered.

Georgia watched the right-hand man enter the driver's seat. Most probably, there would be no keys. She wasn't sure if Negan was planning on hotwiring it every time they used it, but she was in no position to argue. Still, she threw him a rather dubious look. She hadn't meant for him to catch it, but catch it he did. He walked over to her, closer than was necessary. She tried her best to ignore the sheer masculinity of him and pretended to be cleaning the pieces of flesh off of her bat.

"You should really fucking wear gloves for that, doll."

She hummed. "Like you?"

"It helps with better grip." He swung his bat, as if in demonstration. "Keeps you from getting any splinters, too."

"My hands are good so far. I think I can manage without."

She was just about to go check on Dwight when Negan suddenly grabbed her wrist. She threw him a sharp look, part warning and part curiosity. He laid her hand palm up on his, still covered in Roamer blood, and promptly felt around with his pointer finger. Georgia hadn't been lying when she'd said that she could manage without gloves, but she couldn't deny that so many years of handling her bat bare-handed had given way for rough skin. But Negan's hands were rough as well; it apparently made for an interesting combination that left her feeling rather light-headed.

Clearing her throat, Georgia pulled her hand away. She didn't miss the knowing sparkle in his eye. "You're an awful flirt today," she remarked. "Didn't get to screw any of your wives before leaving, did you?"

"Unfortunately, I did not." He smirked. "But that ain't my only reason—"

He never got to finish. Ahead of them, just past the bumper of the semitrailer, there was a scream. Not one of alarm, not one of caution, but one of such abject terror that Georgia knew the owner of such a sound had no hope of survival. Dwight quickly pulled out of the driver's seat. Chad was running towards them – "It's a herd!" he was screaming – but before he could reach them, four Roamers unexpectedly popped out of the foliage that bordered the back alley they were on, converging on him so quickly that he didn't even get to fire his gun.

"SHIT!" Negan cursed. "Who the fuck was on guard duty?"

Thin Joey had, in fact, been the one on guard duty. They all knew it; he was a lazy piece of shit and had undoubtedly been the first to die among them. It was for this reason that he never got to warn them about the herd that was coming in from the west.

By unspoken agreement, Negan, Georgia, and Dwight, along with Bruce, Johnny, and Vince, turned around and began the sprint back to their truck. Georgia was at the rear, trailing just behind Negan. The herd was falling in steady amounts now. There was a steep incline at the side of the alley, beginning just where the forest broke off; this was where the Roamers came from, losing their balance and practically landing on the Saviors' feet. The path wasn't at all wide.

Consequently, this was how Georgia found her path blocked, first by two Roamers, and then five. The fall from the slope hadn't disabled them from crawling towards her. It was too risky to jump over them, even riskier to circle around. She raised her head. Dwight and the others were already several feet away, so close to the truck. But where was Negan…?

Georgia made to turn around when one of the Roamers snagged her ankle. She broke her fall with her hands, no doubt skinning them in the process. Cursing, she kicked and swung her bat wildly at the Roamer that had caught her foot. And then suddenly someone was grabbing her arms.

"Fuck! Get off me you son of a—"

"Shut it! We have to get the fuck out of here!"

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Negan?"

"Who the fuck else? Come on!"

Struggling to regain her senses, Georgia gripped his arm tightly as they ran. The Roamers were coming in from all sides by then, all except one.

"The fence!" said Georgia, pointing at the chain link wall that was adjacent from the forest. "None of them are coming from there." The walls of a building hid anything else beyond it from sight. Negan shook his head in doubt.

"It could be a dead end—"

"There's nowhere else to go!"

After a moment, he saw that for himself. Everything a few feet from where they stood up to the semitrailer full of goods was crawling with the dead by then. One bold Roamer came up to Negan, snarling. He dealt with it easily enough and all but shoved Georgia towards the fence. "Start climbing, doll!"

She did. She climbed like the hordes of hell were chasing her off the ground. Upon reaching the top, however, she came across an unfortunate obstacle.

"Barbed wire," she muttered in disbelief. The very thing she used as a weapon had come back to haunt her, and in the most opportune moment possible.

Negan was kicking at the Roamers below them. "Shit doesn't really work."

The impatience was clear in his voice. Without waiting for him to say more, Georgia got as high up on the fence as she possibly could before throwing her leg over. The barbed wire, luckily, wasn't sharp enough to cut through her jeans. She jumped down, quickly backing up from the fence where the Roamers had begun reaching through with their grubby fingers.

After several tense moments and more than a few cuss words, Negan dropped down beside her. They stared dead straight at the Roamers.

"I've never seen so many," Georgia said in a hushed murmur, afraid that any unnecessary noise might rile them up even more. "You think the fence will hold?"

"Let's not fucking wait and find out." Negan glanced around and pointed further down the fence. "There. Let's see what we can see."

It was a stairway that led to the roof of the building. They began making their way towards it, calmly but swiftly, making sure to stay far enough away from the fence. It looked like it wasn't going to give way any time soon, but neither Georgia nor Negan wanted to take any chances.

There was a hole in the roof. The whole thing looked pretty unstable – wet, moldy, probably corroded beyond belief. Negan and Georgia, after sharing a knowing glance, stuck to walking on the sides, where the foundation was sure to be steadier. When they had reached the other side of the hole, and could see what lay beyond the building, Georgia shook her head.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Negan laughed aloud. "What, you don't like carnivals?"

"Carnivals mean clowns, and I fucking hate clowns."

He got uncharacteristically quiet, then. Georgia had thought for sure that he was going to tease her for that latest reveal of her person. Curious, she stole a glance and saw that he was staring intently ahead, though not at the view, she suspected. There was a crease on his forehead that suggested he was deep in thought; it disappeared moments later, the same time he said, "Someone's been here before."

"What?"

"This place has been cleared."

Frowning, Georgia turned her attention to vast expanse of land that sat before them. There were a handful of colorful tents, even some trailers that might have been food trucks once, all of which were most likely abandoned. Scattered evenly around the area were a variety of rides – Balloon Race, a Carousel, a Disk'O, a rollercoaster (however sad of an excuse it may have been) and, to Georgia's delight, a Ferris wheel. But in the handful of minutes that they'd just stood there, she had not seen a single Roamer ambling about. They had all been killed.

"Rick?"

"Don't I know it," Negan muttered. "He was looking for something."

She caught on to his thought process quickly enough. Supplies, food… guns. "Do you think he found them?"

"He must have. Prick as he very well may be, he doesn't seem like a guy who'd fucking clear out a carnival full of Roamers just cuz he wanted to."

He got quiet again, which meant he was deep in thought – again. Georgia considered just leaving him alone; maybe sitting down to take in the view, but a better idea crossed her mind. It would require disturbing Negan, though, which she wasn't so sure that she should do. She shrugged; she could go on her own. He was always welcome to follow.

Georgia approached the gaping hole in the roof and looked down. There was a cushion below. From what she could hear, no Roamers seemed to be hiding anywhere. She was just about to jump down when Negan's voice reached her: "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go check out the Ferris wheel."

"Why?"

"Because Dwight's probably not coming back for us, not today. It's getting dark and they know better than to go out after dark. They won't do it… not even for you." She looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged. "And, I'm bored. So are you coming or not?"

If someone had told her, five months ago, that she was going to be sitting at the top of a Ferris wheel watching the sunset with Negan, she would have told them to suck dick elsewhere. The two of them had been sitting there for more than ten minutes and she still couldn't wrap her head around the situation. She settled for enjoying the view.

They were even higher up than when they'd been standing on the roof of that building. Georgia could see from miles around – the decrepit skyscrapers, the murky lakes, the dull and cracked highways, and the overgrown shrubbery as far as the eye could see. She couldn't call it depressing anymore; she had been living in such an environment for the better part of three years. That may not have been such a long time in the Old World, but when every day was a constant fight for survival, time passed slower. She could hardly remember what everything had looked like before the world had ended.

It wasn't depressing anymore. It was reality.

"You ever been?" Negan asked, breaking the precious silence between them.

She frowned. "Been where?"

"New York. You're obviously a huge Yankees fan if you know all those facts about Mickey fucking Mantle. You ever been to the Big Apple?"

"No," she muttered. "I know it's not a long way out, but I used to be so focused on finishing med school and taking care of my mom… and my brother, and my sister."

There was a sympathetic grunt from Negan. "Dad walked out on ya?"

"No, he was home. We always wished he wasn't though. Things were always better when he wasn't drinking in the living room."

That was enough of a hint. And Negan was smart. Soon, he had moved closer to her, staring at her with hard eyes. He didn't say anything for a while. He just stared. Georgia let him. Then, enough time passed for him to have calmed down a bit. "Asshole," that was all he said.

You got that right. She sighed. "We should probably find somewhere to hole up in for the night."

Unexpectedly, he pointed at some building that sat between the Balloon Race and the Carousel. It looked like a diner of sorts. "There's probably a shit chance of finding any food there, but it'll be closed off, safe, right?"

Georgia smiled. "Right."

Reviews are greatly appreciated. I try to reply to them as much as I can. :)

P.S. I don't really know anything about American baseball - or just baseball in general - apart from having played it on the Kinect. Georgia and Negan seem like the kind of people who would be obsessed with it, though. That being said, my descriptions of Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle in this chapter are purely objective - for me, at least. Still, I'll apologize in advance for giving Negan and Georgia what may have either been popular or unpopular opinions.