Author's Note: Trying something new and putting the AN's here instead of at the bottom. Let me know what you prefer? Doesn't matter much to me either way. I wanted to thank everyone for your time and patience while I write these chapters out. Hopefully it won't take me longer on the other chapters.

I have been considering doing a little drabble series with this AU, so if I'm a little burnt out on this, I can still put out material for you guys to read and (hopefully) enjoy while waiting for chapters on Saviors. Feel free to let me know how you feel about it. Chapter title and soundtrack is Metallica's Fight Fire With Fire.

Thanks again!

-Bubby.

Replies to Reviews:

Miss Luny: While I'm sure being snuggled would be on the top ten list of shit he's not fond, I'm sure a quick hug would be okay with the brat if you asked first. He may act like a tough little shit, but he's still a kid.

Gabrielsangel23: Trust me, Negan will not be happy about it when he hears exactly what happened. But I didn't want to shove too much in this chapter so the repercussions of that will be in the next one. Asdfghkl! Thank you! ;u; I'm so glad you continue to read and enjoy. Always a pleasure to get a review from you. :)

C.E.W: Little fun fact, Martin was modeled after a character from an RP community I used to be a part of. He was a douchenozzle of a character, but the mod was so hypersensitive that any criticism of him was met with a legit tantrum. It was pretty damn funny. Negan's leadership methods are far from perfect, but every community we see in the Walking Dead has different tactics to govern their survivors. I find Negan's strategy rather interesting and I'll do my damndest to adhere to it while exploring a facet of Negan having a kid and how that'll affect shit. Thanks for the review, you're always insightful and bringing up interesting points.


Negan tossed the blood-soaked rag into the sink, before twisting his torso one way and peering at the ragged row of stitches he'd managed to give himself. He'd fucking cringed and squirmed like a little bitch the entire goddamned time. It fucking hurt like a motherfucker and he had to stop several times to stop his hands from fucking trembling.

Now that the job was done at-fucking-last, Negan heaved a shuddery breath of relief, even though his whole fucking shoulder burned with pain, he wouldn't die from bloodloss now. What a fucking plus.

Negan grabbed some gauze and medical tape from his first aid kit and after a few aggravating tries, he managed to hold the thick square of gauze against the front of his bullet wound and wrapped some tape around it once to hold it in place before doing the same to the back. He wrapped it up as well as he could, using almost all the tape and gauze to bandage his wounds.

Once done with his task, he wiped his hands off as well as he could and carefully pulled his jacket back on, wincing as his movements pulled his fucking rag-tag stitches. He grabbed his pack and the duffel bag and swung them onto his back.

His wounded shoulder protested his quick movements, but he gave it the mental middle finger, pulling the straps onto his back and gripping his bat. A quick search of the apartment gave a few moderate supplies; matches, the half empty bottle of vodka, the sewing kit, and used first-aid kit in the bathroom.

He walked quickly to the door and pressed his ear against it, waiting for any sound. Muffled voices caught his attention and Negan swore violently, backpedaling as quickly as he could into the bedroom as the steps and voices drew fucking closer. God-fucking-damnit. He didn't have the time to climb under the bed, especially with all the shit he was carrying. So he hid behind the door, where he would be hidden if it opened and pressed himself the wall as much as he could, holding his bat close and gritting his teeth.

Heavy footsteps drew nearer and he raised the bat, forcing himself to steady and quiet his breathing so he didn't fucking give himself away. The door creaked open and a man wearing a grimy jacket with the hood up stepped into the room, holding a large knife in one hand. Negan tensed and waited, until he was further into the room before leaping forwards and smashing the bat into the back of his head.

He brought the bat down one, twice, three times, before he collapsed next to the corpse with its fucking dented in head, panting. He could feel speckles of hot blood spotting his face and he swiped his arm across his cheeks, smearing the blood across his face and into his stubble. He had never felt so fucking drained in his entire fucking life, but he knew he couldn't stop now, even though he wanted nothing more then to collapse into an exhausted heap and sleep for fifty fucking years.

But that shit would not get his ass back to Logan and it wouldn't keep his son alive, like he had promised himself and Lucille. He heaved a sigh and used the bat to push himself to his feet, staggering a little as his weary body protested the actions. Bloodloss and over-fucking-exertion made him feel lightheaded and dazed. He stumbled to the door of the bedroom and opened it, stepping into the livingroom and moving through it in a fucking daze.

Light was beginning to fade as evening fell, making the rooms dim and dark. Negan stepped carefully into the hall, gripping his bat and straining every fucking sense for any sign of people, dead or alive. He opened the door and stepped into the hall, going into a crouch and moving slowly to make as little sound as he possibly fucking could.

Make it back to Lo. Kick Simon's ass for leaving him up shit creek without a fucking paddle, and make it back to Lo.

With electricity down, the elevators were a no-fucking-go. He opened the door to the stairwell carefully, wincing as the hinges creaked their goddamned objection. It was too dark to see, so he clicked the flashlight attached to his pack on. Graffiti and stains from who-the-fuck-knows-what littered the walls as he slowly made his way down the dark stairs.


After about an hour of bawling like some baby, Logan finally pushed himself up and rubbed away his tears, wincing as his face throbbed. He wished ice-packs were still a thing, or frozen peas. Momma always used one or the other when he got hurt or something. The best he had was a bottle of water.

Pulling his backpack close, he got out some water and a washcloth, splashing the water on the small towel and wiping it over his face. He bit back whimpers and curses as his injuries stung, wiping at his nose and mouth until blood stopped running. He tossed it away with a sigh and rested his chin on his knees, still pissed and hurting. He wished Dad would hurry the fuck up and get home so he could ask them if they could leave. Fuck this place. He'd rather deal with Walkers then people like this.

A commotion outside caught his attention for a few seconds, and he fought with himself about how much he curious he was about what the hell was going on. Finally, curiousity won out and he pushed himself to his feet, grabbed his pack - just in case - and draged his feet out the doors of the warehouse.

Simon and Martin were standing in front of a beaten black pick up with several bullet holes along the sides and a smashed fender up front, where the light was hanging out like a Walker's eye. Several people, scavenger and civilian alike, were standing around watching as the two men spoke in loud, angry voices. But the only thing Logan cared about was the fact that his Dad was nowhere to be seen.

"We got ambushed and seperated by these fucks." Simon panted, his receding hair sticking up in odd places and blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. "I had to get the fuck outta there. I had to fucking leave Negan behind."

It was like someone had dumped him a tub of ice cold water and held him under. Voices were muffled and he felt like his legs had turned to jiggly as fuck jello. He wanted to throw up. He swallowed down bile in his throat and walked forwards, pushing through two people.

"You left my Dad?" He asked, the words hurting his throat as they scraped out, like sandpaper. "Why...? The fuck..?" His head was swimming with questions, each one kicking and flailing to be spoken first. "Simon...?"

"I'm sorry, kiddo." The man said, shaking his head and avoiding his eyes, keeping them on the ground near Logan's feet. "We met another group, we tried to keep things peaceful, but they shot him, shot at us, and we got seperated in the gunfight and I had to get out of there. "

"What the fuck?" Logan whispered through a closed throat, choked with confusion and anger. "You couldn't have helped him?" He wished Simon was shorter so he could punch him right in his stupid mustached face. "He wouldn't have left you!"

"I know, kiddo." Simon mumbled, finally looking up at him. HIs brow creased as he took note of the kid's battered appearance, black eye, busted lip, and blood still staining his lip from his nose. "We'll go back and find him. I promise."

"Alright. Let's go." Logan said, taking a step towards the black truck. Fuck this shit, he was gonna find his Dad and they were going to get the hell out of here. He hated it here. He wished he and Dad hadn't been found by Simon. They could find somewhere else, maybe even take Barf with them so he wouldn't have to deal with Dustin.

"Hold your horses there, chief." The man in question held his hands out, palms up, to stop him in his tracks while Martin glared at them. "I know you're worried. I am too." Logan narrowed his eyes glaring at Simon as he talked, not wanting to believe the older man. "I swear to you. First thing in the morning." He kneeled down to get on Logan's level, instead of looking down at him like he was some stupid kid that didn't understand what this whole shitstorm meant. "I'm going to go find him and I won't come back until I do."

Logan stared him down, shoulders set, even as he felt trembles of fear and worry shudder over him. He felt weak and sad, even more then when Dustin had stolen his shit and Martin had smacked him. But he knew, somehow in his gut, that Simon was being honest, and felt bad about leaving his Dad behind. Simon might have made a mistake, but he was trying.

"Okay." He let his tense shoulders relax, dropping them in defeat as the fight left his tired body. He just wanted to curl up in a little ball and wake up to his old life. Where Momma was alive, Dad's biggest worry was football season and things were simpler and easier. Simon rested a hand on his shoulder and Logan let him, feeling selfish for allowing himself to be comforted by the gesture. He set his jaw stubbornly before he spoke again, determined to show the other survivor that he wasn't a little baby that could be distracted. "I'm coming with you. We're leaving in the morning. And we're bringing him back."

Simon nodded, a faint smile showing beneath his mustache before he replied. "Ya got it, boss."


An arm wrapped around Negan's neck, jerking him back. His first instinct was to tug away, but a second, more fucking primal one, encouraged him to go with his gut and toss his weight backwards, smashing his attacker into the wall behind him. A grunted curse told him it was a living human and he didn't wait before jerking his elbow back repeatedly, slamming it into the other male over and over again.

He couldn't smack the back of his head against his attacker's face - the backpack and duffel bag he had strapped to him was in the way - but he did his goddamned best to throw the fucker off. He could feel the man's grip around him slipping and at its weakest, he threw himself forward, stumbling somewhat before recovering his footing and whirling around and bring his baseball bat to bear. It hit the side of the other male's face with a smash and crack of bone, sending him to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Negan muffled a cough in the sleeve of his jacket, staring down at the man to make sure he wouldn't attack him again before he moved on, creeping through the deserted halls of the apartment building he had taken shelter. His fucking exhausted mind flickered over the possibilities of where the best place to find some goddamned rest would be and best option he could think of would be the manager's office. Of course, he had no fucking idea where that would be, but he had the idea that would be close to the main floor stuck to his brain like fucking glue.

Rolling his shoulders and mind goddamned made up, he kept on fucking keeping and continued down the endless line of shitty stairs towards the ground floor. He could feel and hear his pulse pounding loudly in his ears between his harsh gasps as he panted for air. He was so tired, he was practically dragging his baseball bat on the floor behind him as he walked. He halted as he came to the landing that indicated ground-level and leaned against the door, listening intently.

"Where the fuck is this asshole?"

"No fucking clue."

"He fuckin' beat the shit outta Pete and beat it."

"I haven't seen Harry or Greg around either."

"How many guys has this fucker taken out?"

Not e-fucking-nough, apparently. Negan's whole body jerked and he bit back a curse, gripping his baseball bat and leaning closer to the door. He gripped the handle with one hand, readying himself to hold it shut, if he could.

He glanced around the dim cement landing for something to brace against the door, but there was nothing but dust and fucking dead spiders. His mind raced over other ideas, because he knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to open the door.

No electricity, no elevators. This was the only fucking way up or down and the fuckers goddamned knew it. He was fucking fucked no matter what the fuck he did. But maybe remaining on the defensive wasn't his best bet. These fuckers were scared of him, and he could definite-fucking-ly use that to his advantage in the shituation he found himself in.

Thinking fast, he shifted to bring his backpack up closer, tucking the baseball bat's handle between his elbow and body and fishing around inside it for the bottle of vodka and the matches he had found earlier. A strip from a tattered clothe was shoved into the bottle and his hands fumbled over the matches as motherfucking nerves set in. He couldn't believe he was about to do this shit, but he had to do what he had to do.

He lit the end and shoved the matches into his pocket, before shrugging the backpack into its former place and getting his baseball bat in hand once more, where it fucking belonged. Taking a deep, bracing breath and steeling himself for what was to come, he pulled the handle down, just enough to depress the lock and brought the bat against the metal door with three hard, resounding bangs.

"Little pigs, little pigs! Let me come in!" He didn't bother waiting for a response, knowing that every second he delayed was another second they had to hand his ass to him back on a silver platter. He kicked the door in like the goddamned Kool-Aid fucker and pitched the bottle at them, aiming for the fuckers at the center of the five-men group.

It hit one square in the fucking head, sending flaming vodka and glass everywhere in a fiery explosion. Three of the five got caught in the flames, fire soon licking at their clothing and skin. Negan charged forwards as soon as he saw an opening, slamming the baseball bat into one man's skull and whipping around to smack the gun out of the other man's hand and sending it clattering against the fake-wood floors. The fucker cursed, clutching his injured fingers before Negan ended his bitching and moaning with a crack across the face.

One of the flaming men were down on the floor, writhing in agony. The second had managed to shrug off his jacket and backpack was was aiming his gun at Negan before the bat was brought down on his arms, making him howl in pain and drop it. Negan kicked his leg out from under him and slammed the bat down on the fucker's head.

A gurgle came from behind him and he turned to see the man that had collapsed to the floor was no dragging himself to his feet, letting out gasping growls as it lurched towards Negan. He swung the bat once more, sending the recently turned walker to the fucking floor.

Looking at the carnage around him, Negan felt oddly indifferent to the death and destruction he had just wreaked. Maybe he could feel some sympathy to ending another man's life, painfully and brutally, but that was about it. A faint sense of 'that was too damn bad', but nothing else stirred, leaving his chest feeling hollow.

Maybe he was just too fucking tired and on edge to feel anything right fucking now. He knew it was all about survival right now, and to survive in this new dog-eat-dog world he needed to be something that would send all the other dogs howling for the motherfucking hills in complete and utter pant-pissing terror.

Negan wiped his face off on his dirty sleeve, smeering blood and sweat across his face. He walked past the still bodies of the men he had killed in cold blood without feeling a goddamned thing, walking towards a door that was labeled Manager. He brought the baseball bat up again and rapped it against the door three times. He rested his forehead against the cool wood and closed his eyes, gathering his waning focus and honing it to a razor sharp edge.

There was no room for mistakes in this new world; mistakes and stupidity got you killed. Negan's weary mind flashed images of Audrey, Malcolm, Francis, and Elizabeth in his head and he felt his lips twist back in anger and disappointment. He had liked them, there was no fucking lying about that. But they didn't - couldn't - adjust to this cruel, bloody life. They were too soft, too weak, too human. In this world, you had to leave that side of you behind. People would take advantage of it and walkers would chew you up and spit you out.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, lit by a window placed high on one wall, where fading orange light from the setting sun fell on a dusty desk and office chair, a couch shoved against the wall, a mini-fridge, and a bookshelf. He shut the door behind him, fucking exhaustion weighing his shoulders down as he propped a chair under the handle and locked it. He dropped the duffel bag and backpack on the floor, and then dragged himself to the couch and flopped onto it. His eyes fell shut as everything faded in a comforting, painless darkness.


"C'mon, kiddo." Logan looked up as Simon gazed down at him sympathetically, offering a small smile that was mostly hidden by his dumb mustache. "Let's get your face looked at."

"As long as I don't end up with a mustache like yours, sure." Simon chuckled as he led him away from the courtyard. Logan followed in his footprints, stepping in the mud where Simon did out of sheer boredom and not really wanting to admit that having someone to help him take care of shit sounded really nice right now. He missed Dad, and wished he'd gone with him to go scavanging. None of this shit would be happening if he and Dad weren't split up.

"Hey..." Simon's voice startled him and looked up, scrubbing at his stinging eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "It's gonna be okay. Your Dad... He's a tough sonuvabitch. I can goddamned tell. We'll find him." The tall man offered a smile and Logan gave a tiny one back. "C'mon." He waved one hand, gesturing for Logan to follow him and he did, falling into step beside him. "If we're gonna be up at the asscrack of dawn looking for him, we'll need our shuteye."

Logan didn't really sleep well, tossing and turning while his mind raced nonstop. Simon had helped him with his eye, finding some cool water to help it, but it was still sore and he sported a dark bruise near his cheek.

He was used to staying with his Dad, and it felt weird as shit not having him close. Eventually, he gave up on sleep as light started to grow through the blinds on the window. He picked himself up off the floor and trotted over to where Simon was sleeping on a couch, one arm hanging off as he snored into a pillow.

"Simon." He shook the man by his shoulder, taking a step back as the older man jerked out of his sleep. "Enough beauty rest. We gotta get Dad. Now."

"O-okaaaaay." Simon groaned through a yawn, stretching himself out with a couple of pops coming from his back and knees. He looked towards the window and then checked his watch before frowning at Logan. "It's not even mornin' yet." He mumbled, pressing his face back into the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"I will slap that dumb mustache off your dumb face, I swear to God."

"Then who'll drive your chunky little ass out there to look for your old man, chief?" Simon asked, cracking a single eye open to look at Logan, his mustache askew and one eyebrow raised towards his receding hairline.

"I could drive if I wanted to." Logan grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. "But you lost my Dad, so you're gonna help me go find him."

"Alright, alright." Simon groused, pushing himself up and throwing his long legs to the side, stretching his arms and then rolling his shoulders. "Grab your shit and we'll go running to the rescue."

Logan didn't give up bugging Simon until he finally got his shit together and grabbed his gear. Then they headed out to the courtyard where the survivors kept the few vehicles that they could find and keep running. They didn't take the black pick-up that Simon and Dad had taken before, instead going for a silver toyota with Louisiana plates.

Logan pulled himself into the passenger seat and closed the door, watching as Simon was flagged down by Martin. He pointed to Logan and when Martin looked at him, Logan flipped him off with a scowl. Simon seemed to find it pretty funny, but Martin obviously didn't, his face growing flushed with anger.

Simon quickly finished talking to the asshole (AKA Martin) and jumped into the car, keys jangling from his hand. He flashed Logan a cheerful grin before he started up the car and they drove through the gates an down the road. Logan looked out the window, feeling his stomach flop nervously as he thought about Dad and if he was hurt. Or even still alive.

What would he do if Dad got bit by walkers? Or hurt so badly while running away he died from it? Or got shot by more people? Simon had already said that he had been shot once, but the way he put it sounded like it maybe wasn't that bad?

Logan pressed his forehead against the window and took his walkman out of its baggie, unrolling the headphones and putting them on. The sound only came from one side, but Led Zeppelin immediately made him feel calmer. Dad liked Led Zep, so it kinda helped having something that made him feel closer, especially when Dad felt so far away.

He didn't wanna think about Dad being dead though. The idea of it, not having him around anymore, hurt like hell. More then Dustin's punches. It felt almost like watching Momma die all over again. Except he didn't know what was worse, actually seeing Momma become a walker or losing Dad and having no clue what happened.

He didn't know what he was scared of more; losing Dad or winding up all alone.


Negan woke up in his bed, eyes drifting open as the fucking sunlight hit them. The curtains blew gently in a breeze he didn't fucking feel on his skin. Nothing felt like any-fucking-thing; there was no hot or cold; he was just there.

He was sitting up before he even realized it, there was no thought to it, he just did it. He moved his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, looking around at his old bedroom in his old house. He didn't register that the edges were blurry and things seemed to be bathed in light, like someone had overexposed an old camera image. Brief images of his grandmother showing him how to do it came to his mind, hazy and barely-there.

A sound from down the hall, in the kitchen, and he tensed, looking around for his bat and found it laying on the dresser nearby. He picked it up, feeling the familiar grain of the worn wood beneath his fingers and palms and the weight of it. He twirled it once, testing it, even though he wasn't sure why.

Shaking his head, Negan headed down the hall, slowly, glimpsing some pictures of him, Lucille, and Logan hanging from the walls in one big collaboration that Lucille and he had spent days arguing over which pictures should go where and why. He stared at them for several endless minutes, lost in memories he had taken for granted and would pay anything to bring back to life.

"Negan?"

He startled, whipping around and raising the bat. To find Lucille standing before him, a soft, sad smile on her face. The bat fell from Negan's nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

"... Lucille..." His knees felt weak as he looked down at her, reaching up with one hand that was shaking like a motherfucker to touch her cheek. She was just like he remembered, before cancer had fucking drained her of her life and left her a shell of her former self. Her long, dark hair fell in waves down her back, framing her face highlighting her light grey eyes. "... Fucking hell, baby..."

"I know." She said simply and he knew she understand every-fucking-thing he felt and had gone through. "You've been so strong, sweetheart."

"I fucking haven't, baby. I fucking didn't." He rasped, feeling like his heart was cracking open in his chest, leaving a hollow goddamned ache behind. "I fucking couldn't- I can't.. I-"

Lucille's hands gently cradled his head, tugging him gently until his body crumpled against her and he started sobbing into her hair. Soft hands stroked through his hair and along his back, comforting him as he cried like a goddamned baby.

"You have..." She said, her voice tender, but absol-fucking-lute. "I'm so proud of you." She pressed a kiss against his forehead as he started to calm down; he only felt a little ashamed that her words soothed him so much and so fucking quickly. But then again, he was a grown ass man, he shouldn't have been crying into her hair any-fucking-ways. He straightened up, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "You're alive. Our baby is alive. You've protected him, you'll always protect him, and he'll always protect you." She gave a proud smile, eyes glowing with pride. "My brave boys."

"...Baby.." She leaned up to press a loving kiss to his lips and he fell willingly silent, wrapping his arms around her slender form and pulling her close, before mumbling lowly against her soft, delicious lips. "I miss you, doll."

"I know." Lucille said, shifting to lay her head against his chest, her arms finding their way around him as well. "I miss you too." She pulled away from him and he let out something like a fucking whine, not wanting to let her fucking go. Lucille's hand brushed against his cheek tenderly and Negan sighed softly, reluctantly releasing his grip on her and letting his arms drop to his sides. "I love you, Negan. I'll always love you and I'll always be with you." Lucille bent and picked up the bat, running her hands over it, as if making sure it was undamaged or some shit. She handed it to him, and he took it, taking solace in the familiar weight and feel of it in his hands.

"I love you too, Lucy." He croaked, reaching up to scrub at his eyes aggressively with one hand. Buck the fuck up, motherfucker, goddamn it. Lucille smiled at him and gave him one last kiss on the lips, letting it linger for a endless second he wanted to last for-fucking-ever.

"I love you. But I don't want to see you come back to me for a long, long fucking time, sweetheart." She said, and somehow the distance between them had grown. "I want you to live. I want you to fight. Not just for me. Not just for Logan. For yourself. For you both." Her form began to dissolve into the white light that grew brighter and brighter around him, making his eyes squint and water. "When you're ready. Come back to me. Promise?"

"I promise." He whimpered out, voice cracking as he fought back to keep more fucking tears from falling.

"Good." She was completely gone now and all around him was light and he looked around desperately for her, but he saw fucking nothing. It was only him and the bat that she had handed back to him, still warm from her hands. "Now wake-up, Negan."

"What?" He asked, more fucking confused then ever before. "What the fuckity fuck do you mean?"

"Wake up."


Negan jerked awake, soaked in sweat and panting. His eyes darted frantically around in a desperate fucking search for Lucille. He could almost taste her on his lips and feel the phantom warmth of her hands on his chest and arms. But there was nothing but the dim, unfamiliar surroundings of the manager's office in the apartment complex he had taken shelter in. He was sprawled on the dusty, dilapidated sofa, his body stiff and sore.

His gaze fell on the bat laying on the floor near him and Negan reached over with a fucking shaking hand to pick it up, the wood cool and comforting against the fevered heat of his skin.

"... Lucille..." He mumbled softly, ex-fucking-hausted brain unhelpfully flashing the images of his dream back to him and making his resolve waver like a tree in a fucking twister. He ran his other hand over his sweaty face and shook himself off, squaring his shoulders and pushing himself slowly to his feet. His whole body ached and his sewed up gunshot wound burned with agony, but determination blazed through him like fire.

He had known his purpose before, but it was made even more clear to him now. He would survive. Lucille wanted him to live. Live until it was his time. "I can fucking do that." He rasped, voice sounding raw and rough in his ears. Fuck, he had been doing that; hanging onto survival with tooth and goddamned nail like a desperate animal.

He stumbled to his feet, still feeling fucking out of it from bloodloss. Judging from the sunlight outside, it was late morning, maybe nearing the afternoon. Fuck, had he really slept the entire goddamned night? He could see the sports store through the grimy window by standing on the couch and his heart nearly goddamned stopped at the sight of several trucks parked out front.

"Looks like the goddamned cavalry is here." He growled, a niggling feeling in his gut telling him these fuckers weren't going to be on his side. "Time to get the fuck outta here." He grabbed his bags, pulling them onto his back and heading towards the door. He paused, listening to the outside sounds for walkers or people, before slipping out side into the dim hallways.


Logan looked at Simon as he scowled at the mass of vehicles blocking the inbound highway headed towards the city. They sat bumper to bumper sideways across the road in two rows. And something about it definitely was bothering Simon and Logan had a pretty good idea about what it was.

"These weren't here when you guys came through last time were they?" He asked, rolling his headphones up and shoving the walkman in its bag. Simon gave a grunt, nodding, his brows still bunched up and worried looking. "What're we gonna do?"

"We need to keep the car in case we gotta haul ass." Simon mumbled, rubbing at his chin as he thought things over. "We'll go around. Do me a favor and keep your eyes peeled for anything outta the ordinary."

"More unordinary then dead people eating live ones?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He wasn't a baby; he knew that if they saw other people, chances were they weren't the good guys. He was hoping it wouldn't come to a fight, but he was realizing that he would. He didn't like it, but to get Dad back, he'd fight anyone.

"Little smartass." Simon snorted, turning the steering wheel to drive the car through the grass and the back onto the road, still headed to the city. "You talk to your old man like this?"

"Worse actually. I'm being polite now. Most times I call Dad an asshole." Logan said with a small smile, before he reached out and opened the glove box as Simon drove along. He played with a flashlight for a few seconds finding only that and a owner's manuel. "Or a dick or something. Since he talks about dicks a lot." Simon let out a guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Logan sighed and flopped against the side of the door, feeling sadness wash over him. "Are you sure Dad's gonna be okay?"

"Positive. He's probably on his way back right now. You watch. He'll be bitching at us for taking so long to get to him." Logan laughed a little, feeling lighter and like he could breath so much better. "Either that or the bastard is already back and we're just wasting the gas."

"Yeah... That sounds like him." Logan said, still smiling while he looked out the window watching streets and buildings roll slowly by. He hesitated for a moment, looking at Simon's reflection in the window before he glanced over at him. "... Thanks..." A flash of movement caught his eyes and he sat up straighter in the seat. A second too late, he realized what it was; a truck zooming down the road that led to a shopping center. "Simon! Look out!"

The truck screeched through an empty intersection before it smashed into the side of their car, sending them skidding down the road. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder as he was rattled around like a marble in a can. The honda smashed through the front of a restaurant and hit the check out counter, coming to a stop.

Logan groaned, shifting in the seat while his body screamed in pain at him. He agreed, but his throat felt closed and like he couldn't make a sound. All he could do was slowly move little after little to make sure that nothing was broken. He was sore and really, really dizzy, but other then that, he was fine. He looked over at Simon and could tell that the man probably felt the same as he did.

"You okay?" He groaned as Simon reached up slowly to rub at his head, looking dazed. Logan couldn't blame him. It felt like his brain had been rattled around.

"Y-yeah. Still in one piece." The man said, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his pack. "C'mon, kid. We gotta get the hell outta here." He said, opening the door, which screeched in protest. Logan threw off his own seatbelt and opened the door, only to see some strange man in grubby clothes trying to grab him.

"Shit! Simon!" He yelled, as he tried to scramble backwards using his hands, desperate to get away from the fucker. "Leave me alone you dickhead!" He growled, kicking at the man's hands and reaching for the knife at his hip. "Simon!" The man grabbed his ankle and started dragging him to the door and he let out a loud yelp, scrabbling desperately for anything to hold on to. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The hard grip around his leg was there and then it was suddenly gone. He looked over to see Simon dragging the shithead off of him, punching him in the nose and sending him staggering back. Making sure his pack was on his back where it belonged, Logan jumped down from the driver-side door. His body hurt, but he ignored the pain, running around the front of car, pulling the knife from its sheath stabbing the shithead in the back.

The scream the man let out sent a chill down his back, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He felt like he wanted to throw up. It was one thing to punch the ever loving shit out of a douchbag like Dustin, it was something else to stab the shit out of some fuck.

The bang of a gun going off made him flinch and look down, expecting to see red on his jacket, but there was nothing. Looking up, he saw Simon holding his gun, glaring down at the now dead man. The older man gave a heavy huff before looking over at him, brows bunched up.

"Shit, kiddo. You alright?"

"I thi-think so." He panted in response, still not believing he hadn't been hit. "I stabbed the shit outta that guy." He added, stating the obvious, but he felt like he had to say something about it. Wasn't hurting someone that bad a big deal? "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Simon gave a short nod. "You got him good." He gestured with the gun towards the emergency exit in the back and Logan nodded, still holding his hunting knife so hard his fingers were starting to hurt. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's roll. You can tell your Dad all about it when we find him."


Negan cursed as he pondered what the ever-loving fuck he was gonna do now, watching as men milled around the trucks, some taking supplies and others guarding the vehicles. Whenever any walkers appeared, they were put down with knives or other melee weapons to minimize any fucking sounds the group made while they got their shit and no doubt searched for him.

"Fuck." He muttered. He knew he had to make enough of a distraction to to keep the fuckers occupied and then skirt around and steal a truck. All without getting his goddamned ass handed to him and then get the fuck outta here and back to his kid. "Easy peasy, fucking lemon squeezy." He grumbled sarcastically to himself. He had moved to one of the first floor apartments of the complex and had been watching the group for any patterns in their movements. All he had to do was find a good moment.

Hopefully, noticing that their newly dispatched friends had been newly dispatched and left in the goddamn lobby, they would send in more. If he was lucky, they would leave only a few shitheads to guard the cars and he could snag one and make a fucking run for it. It was just a waiting game. Negan was goddamned good at waiting games.

He watched one guy come running up to the group, interests fucking piqued as the others seemed to become nervous, gathering around to hear what the new guy was fucking going on about. Apparently, whatever news he had wasn't good. Several men reacted in ways that could only be described as 'motherfucking pissed'. Negan found himself smirking as he watched the silent scene unfold in front of him before it faded slightly as several men got into a big truck and peeled down the street like a goddamn bat outta fucking hell.

Something was fucking up. And Negan wasn't sure he was gonna like the results.

But this was the moment he had been waiting for and fuck no he was not gonna waste it like some dumbass. Gathering his strength, he pulled open the window and climbed up into it, bracing himself. Below was a large green garbage dumpster with the lids down. It would be a simple jump down, run across a couple of alleys, then circling back to one of the cars in the back of the line, a simple hotwire job if the keys weren't there and he'd be home-fucking-free.

He did just fucking that, moving as quietly as he fucking could, even as his feet dragged sluggishly across the pavement and his body felt heavy with exhaustion he was barely fighting off. The baseball bat he carried was a reassuring weight in his hand as he stalked along. The gunshot wound in his shoulder burned with a dull, throbbing pain along with with his pulse, but it gave him something to focus on. At least pain let him know he was still goddamn kicking.

Peering around the edge of an alley, his eyes found a green SUV waiting for him. Smirking again, Negan drew closer, grateful that it was unguarded. But he knew he couldn't get fucking cocky. Being cocky got you fucking dead and he wasn't fucking dying today goddamn it.

A careful look around ensured that the fucker in charge of looking after the cars had his back turned to the open road leading towards the city in the distance. Negan snuck across the road in a running crouch, hiding near the trunk and peaking out to make sure that he hadn't been spotted.

He slowly moved around the side of the car, whole body tense as fuck until he reached the driver's door. One more check with his breath fucking held before he opened the door and tossed his bags inside as fucking quickly as he could before throwing himself into the driver's seat.

He slammed the door shut behind him. A quick look around confirmed that they had left the keys in the ignition, no doubt for a quick fucking getaway if shit hit the fan. The car rumbled to life as he turned the key and Negan grinned to himself, beating the wheel in sheer fucking joy. God-fucking-damn!

The tires ground against the pavement as he cranked the wheel, before screeching as he slammed his foot on the pedal. He could hear muffled angry shouts and shots pinging off the tarmac and the car's metal sides. But there was fucking nothing the bastards could do.

"Eat shit assholes!" He crowed. About damn time things went his fucking way. The car shook as he drove it onto the sidewalk, taking out a parking meter so he could skirt around a tank sitting in the goddamned way with large wooden road blocks on either side.. Another shuddering bump and the car screeched across the pavement as he made his escape, flipping the fuckers off through the open window.


Logan stood on his tiptoes on a bridge near a park, looking out on a river, arms resting on the wall's top as he watched Simon peer down the road.

"Someone stole one of their cars." The other man muttered, sounding like he found the idea pretty funny. Logan had to agree, giggling to himself slightly.

"I bet you two million dollars it's Dad." He smiled, jumping up slightly as excitement rushed through him. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! Before he leaves town and we're stuck here with these bags of dicks."

"Okay, okay, kid." Simon chuckled, grabbing his rifle and starting to head towards the road. "He's headed this way, so we can wait until he comes to us and just flag..." He came to a halt and Logan looked at him curiously.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked, coming to stand next to Simon and seeing just exactly what the fuck was going on. "Shit."

Miles away down the road what looked like a sea of walkers were stumbling towards the city, following the interstate into town. And Dad was headed right towards them.

"C'mon, kid." Simon said, thumping Logan's shoulder as he stood frozen, stomach full of ice and blood running cold. "If we hurry, we can catch him."

They ran as quickly as they could along the empty sidewalks past dark buildings. When Dad had stolen the car, he was closer to the city since the sporting store Simon had told him they raided was on the outskirts.

Logan could feel his lungs aching as he followed Simon. They'd already caught the attention of some walkers, who were now following them as they hurried down the road. Simon skidded to a stop near a police car with busted out windows and blood smeared on one side. He peered inside and nodded, before waving a hand at Logan.

"C'mon. We'll move some cars in his way." He panted, even his mustache looked winded from their frantic dash. "He'll see the way is blocked and stop. We catch him, victory dance, and get the hell outta dodge."

"Sounds good." Logan said, opening the door and reaching in to crank the steering wheel to help. "C'mon. I steer, you push." They moved three cars, stopping to down walkers that were drawn to their movements. Logan was soaked in sweat by the second car, his injuries from the fight with Dustin stinging. But he wouldn't stop, he couldn't. Dad had been shot and he was still kicking ass and taking names. Logan could move some cars and stab the shit out of some walkers.

"Easy peasy, fucking lemon squeezy."


Negan sped down the vacant interstate, abandoned stores, apartments, and other buildings he did not give two fucks about on either side. However, a line of dark objects in the rapidly approaching distance had him pressing the brake pedal down.

They were cars, pushed across the road, with two figures sitting on the police car in the middle. Negan felt his heart goddamn stop, and then speed right the fuck up as he recognized the smaller person in the red hoodie waving at him.

"Holy fuck." He muttered, shaking his head as the car rolled to a stop. He opened the door and stepped out, Almost immediately, he stumbled back as Logan practically leapt into his fucking arms. Not that he was fucking complaining; he clung to the kid like a goddamned lifeline, holding him close. "Logan..."

"Hey Dad..." Logan mumbled into his chest, face hidden in the heavy black jacket he wore. "Can we go home now, please?" Negan looked over the top of Logan's head to see Simon standing nearby, thumbs tucked into the loops of his jeans and a sheepish smile under his mustache.

Negan gave the other man a grateful nod. Simon may have left him behind, but Negan didn't hold it against him. He would have done the fucking same if their positions had been switched. The man had come back, when he didn't have to. And while Negan knew that Logan had had something to do with that without a goddamn doubt, he was still thankful.

"Yeah. Let's go home, kid."

"Yeah... About that." Simon muttered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "We're gonna have a whole shitload of company, boss." He said. "Got a huge herd headed this way. Any bright ideas?"

"One." Negan said with a grin, looking at the police car. "You got any jumper cables?" Simon's slow grin under his mustache was his answer, shrugging his backpack off and pulling the red and black cables from a plastic case. "Good."

Negan drove the green car closer to the police cruiser while Simon popped the hood. Logan sat in the driver's seat of the car Negan had stolen, just fucking barely peering over the dashboard while Negan hooked up the two cars. He didn't know much about cars, but this was pretty basic goddamned info he had used plenty of times.

Simon hot-wired the police car while Logan started their car. Within ten minutes, the donut-mobile rumbled to life. It took a few seconds to find the switches for the lights and sirens, but soon enough the police car was wailing in the middle of the street, flashing red, white, and blue lights across the abandoned road.

"I always wanted to drive one of those." Logan said wistfully when they climbed into the green car, moving to the backseat.

"Maybe some day we can find you one." Negan chuckled, before ruffling Logan's hair teasingly. "Or maybe even a firetruck or a choo choo train." He added in a joking voice, like Logan was a fucking baby.

"Shut up, dick. Or we'll just leave you." The kid rolled his eyes and flipped him off.


Simon drove them home, while Negan and Logan flopped into the back seat, leaning against each other, completely fucking exhausted. Negan had immediately taken note of Logan's beat appearance - the black eye and bruises - but had decided to hold off on questioning the kid. He'd get answers later, right now he just wanted to rest.

Logan was snoring quietly against his side, clinging to Negan's jacket with one hand. Negan ran a hand over of the kid's hair while he sat.

They arrived back at Railyards just as the sun was setting and the green car hit empty on the gas tank. Negan gathered Logan's limp, heavy form in his arms, groaning as he did so. The brat kept sleeping, motionless as a rock, and Simon chuckled before shaking his head.

"I'll get your bags for ya." He said, getting Negan's backpack, the duffel bag from the sporting goods store, and Logan's smaller red and black backpack. "One of the ladies here knows some basic first aid, I'll get her." He said, stepping past Negan and jerking his head. "This way. You guys can bunk up with me."

"Why?" Negan asked, not following the mustachioed man yet. Simon didn't really seem that surprised by his question, a small smile growing under his mustache.

"I owe you. Both of you." He said softly before offering an almost teasing grin. "But if you don't wanna take me up on my more than generous offer, then feel free to head back to your bunks in the communal warehouse. Just thought I'd be nice and offer."

"What-the-fuck-ever." Negan grumbled, moving to follow the Luigi-looking motherfucker. He was too fucking exhausted to argue. He shifted Logan closer, noting with amusement that the kid was actually snoring even louder and followed the other man. "Just letting you know I haven't had a fucking roomate since I was in goddamned college."

"Well, I suppose if you don't snore louder then the kid, we'll get along fine."