A/N: Sooooo. Heyyy guys. *Sheepish wave.* It's me. How're you? I'm really, really, really sorry about the wait on this. To be honest, I re-wrote this chapter about five or six times before I came to a point where I was pleased with what I had. I wasn't gonna just post whatever crap came to me, because you guys deserve better.

I hope you can forgive me for taking so long. It really wasn't my intent to do so. I was just lacking a lot of motivation and wasn't happy with some other ways this played out. If you guys could please, please, please let me know what ya'll think, I'd really appreciate it. I do have part of chapter ten already written out, and I have some time to work on it. I am still looking for a Beta-reader if anyone is interested. I just feel I need to discuss some things and maybe get a second opinion sometimes? I don't know.

Anywho. Chapter title and soundtrack is Johnny Cash's The Man Comes Around. Thanks a bunch and I really hope you enjoy!


"Lo, c'mere for a fucking second, would ya?" Negan looked up from the gun parts he had assembled on the table, eyes falling on where Logan sat on the cot fiddling with his walkman. He could faintly hear the familiar tones of Black Sabbath and guessed that Logan was taking a crack at the cassette Barf had given him yesterday.

The boy hit the pause and looked up, blinking curiously at his father. Negan waved him over with one hand and the kid plopped himself into the seat next to his Dad, obviously curious. "We re gonna teach you how to take care of this fucking thing properly." Negan explained, gesturing to the pieces of Logan's Beretta he had taken apart, laying on the table and gleaming coldly in the light overhead.

"Okay." The boy nodded, his brows furrowing a bit as he realized this would be a more serious conversation then the fucking snark fest they usually fucking found themselves in. "Thanks for showing me, Dad."

Negan allowed a faint smile to show, his heart warming at those words. He and Logan were closer then ever before, but he knew they probably would not have had this relationship without the goddamned apocalypse happening. More then fucking likely, they would have been loving but a bit distant, like before Lucille had died. Negan's own relationship with his father was tumultuous at its best and nonexistent at its worst; the drunk old fucker was just a sperm donor and Negan spent most of his time as Logan's father doing the opposite of what his old man would have done. As macabre as it was, he was happy to finally have that deeper relationship with his son.

Talk about fucking silver linings.

"Remember what I said when you first got this thing?" Negan asked, raising a brow and studying the kid's expression. The boy dutifully replied with 'it's a tool, not a toy' and Negan beamed with pride, pleased he had remembered. "That's my fucking boy." He rumbled with gruff affection. Step by step, he showed Logan how to clean the parts of the gun and reassemble it. The brat watched intently, soaking the information in like a gangly little sponge and once Negan was done with his walk-through, he handed the Beretta back. "Now show me what I showed you."

Logan bit his lip and nodded, taking the gun from his father in his smaller hands and taking it apart carefully piece by piece, laying them out on the table neatly. When he hesitated, Negan remained quiet, watching as the boy thought it through before continuing. When Logan got stuck on certain parts, Negan gently talked him through it until the gun was finally cleaned and reassembled, gleaming coldly in the light.

"Good job, kiddo." Negan rumbled with pride as Logan beamed up at him. "We'll keep working on it until you can do it by yourself." He said, taking the gun from the brat to look it over, just in case. "I do want you to be careful. Like I said, it's a tool, not a toy. You'll fucking respect it as such."

"Yes, sir." Logan said, nodding. Negan smiled before reaching over and ruffling the brat s messy hair. He grabbed a box of ammo he had found for the Beretta and shoved it in his pack, nodding to the kid.

"We're gonna go out and practice shooting this fucker but then I have to help Simon with something for a fucking bit." He said, standing and grabbing his pack. Logan did the same, making sure he had his knife as well, before following his father out the door. On the way out, Negan grabbed a walkie he had signed out of the supply cache, so he could be reached. They walked to the front gates, where a couple of men stood on guard on makeshift watchtowers that looked like they had been hunting stands at one point.

Once the gates were rolled back, father and son set off, heading a bit deeper into the woods. Negan didn't want to go too far, just in case, but he didn't want to draw a herd of walkers to their position (or Railyard's) so it was a little bit of a hike to find a suitable place that Negan was fucking happy with.

They had managed to find a small clearing filled with overgrown grass and the low-hanging branches of a large oak tree. Negan handed Logan his bat to hold on to and shrugged his pack off, kneeling down next to it and removing some cans from last night s dinner. He lined them up on and near the branch and tree, before returning to Logan's side.

"Same shit, different day, kiddo." He said with a smirk, nodding his head back towards the cans he d set up. "Let's see how you do."

Logan nodded and handed the bat back, before he unholstered the Beretta and took aim, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart. Negan watched as the boy took shot after shot, slowly reaccostuming himself to firing a gun again. The sound of the shots seemed to echo through the woods, making it hard to pinpoint - just like Negan planned. He wasn't fucking interested in getting his ass chewed on by an undead prick.

"Good job. He said, pleased, before stepping forwards and guiding the kid s hands through the reloading process, the bat leaning against his pack nearby. "You're a goddamned natural."

"I think as long as you don t talk about dicks, I do okay." Logan snipped back with a little shit-eating grin, making Negan let out a bark of laughter.

"Al-fucking-right then. I'll keep the goddamned dick chat to a minimum, capiche?"He chuckled before gesturing for the brat to watch him how to put more bullets in a clip. Logan observed with rapt attention, his head tilted slightly.

"Capeach." Logan said, frowning around the word he spoke, brows furrowed in confusion. Negan grinned and ruffled his hair, before picking up his bat.

"C'mon, let's head back before some undead pricks decide to stop by for lunch."

"Sure thing, Dad." The crackle of the radio interrupted Negan before he could reply and he unclipped it from his belt and held it to his ear. The tinny voice of Simon came through, garbled with static.

"Hey, Negan, you there? Martin is rallying the troops in for the meeting." Simon s somewhat bored voice drawled over the radio. Negan pressed the push-to-talk button and brought it to his mouth.

"I'll be right fucking there. Lemme drop the kiddo off." He jerked his head and Logan nodded, double-checking the safety on his Beretta before holstering it. He then grabbed his pack and rocked on his heels, waiting and watching his father curiously.

Negan picked up his pack and slung it over his back, before resting his bat on his shoulder and walking back towards the direction of Railyards. Logan trailed behind him, alternating between walking and jogging in little spurts to keep up. He was growing goddamn quick, but his legs weren t quite long enough to catch up with his father. Negan bet by the time Logan hit his teens, he'd be as tall as he was; if lived that long.

Immediately, his stomach twisted at that thought and he shook his head with a frown. Logan would live. He'd make this new world his bitch and maybe by the time he was Negan's age, things would be stable. He wouldn't have to fear death coming at every angle. The world would never be what it was; Lucille's death and the walkers had changed it forever, but there was still a life worth fighting for here.

Negan looked up at the sky, seeing the sun stream through the clouds amidst branches of the trees, gold and bright as fucking ever and his lips twitched a little in a smile. Silver linings.

"Dad?" He looked over his shoulder at Logan, who was watching him with a curious smile. "What're you thinking about?" The kid asked, tilting his head like a pup.

"'bout the future, kiddo." He rasped back, shrugging his broad shoulders. Logan hummed and nodded, trotting alongside him as they started walking again. "I'm thinking 'bout the future I want for my boy and how we get there."

"This isn't another dick chat thing, is it?" Logan asked somewhat warily, making Negan laugh. They were reaching the edge of the woods, leaves, sticks, and dirt crunching softly under their booted feet.

"Nah, I fucking promise, Lo." Negan chuckled, before a gurgled groan made them both look to the right. A walker wearing a tattered greyish jumpsuit that must have been fucking orange or some shit at some time came shambling towards them. Its head hung on a partially eaten neck, sinew and bone clearly seen between strings of muscle. Negan twirled the bat in one hand, tucking his tongue into the side of his cheek before Logan's voice came from his left.

"Dad? Let me take it?" The kid asked. Negan glanced between the two swiftly, contemplating the request before he nodded and swept his other hand out in invitation.

"Be my fucking guest, kiddo."

"Thanks." Logan unholstered his knife, stepping forwards and closer to the walker. Negan watched on as the boy waited until the walker was close enough before dodging its grasping hands and kicking its leg out from under it. It collapsed onto one knee, growling mindless fucking protests before Logan plunged the knife into its forehead.

Negan tucked the bat into the crook of his arm and applauded, smirking as Logan gave a sheepish sort of nervous smile and mock-bowed, before wiping his knife on the walker's haggard clothing.

His baby boy was growing up into a goddamn badass.


Once they made it back inside Railyard gates, he gave his Dad a quick hug, squeezing him tight. For the first time in a long time, they got along great. Dad hadn't said or done anything stupid for a while to piss Logan off. He liked it when he and Dad got along without biting each other s heads off or pissing each other off to the point of not talking. It sucked ass when things got that bad and they'd spend days sulking and glaring at each other, waiting for the other to crack and apologize. Logan always did it first; Dad was the only family he had left, he didn't want a stupid fight to be the last thing between them.

Dad waved him off with a gruff curse to go do whatever the fuck he did, but to be careful so Logan headed off towards the garage; he was a man on a mission. Well boy, but he was gonna be ten in about a year, so not a kid for much longer. He had agreed to meet Barf there the other day so they could play soccer. Barf hadn't taught him all the rules yet, and he wanted to learn.

He pushed the door to the garage warehouse open, looking around for Barf and finding him sitting on a stool next to his dad as he worked on a car.

"Hey, Barf." He said, wandering over, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Oh.. h-hey, Lo-Logan." Barf smiled, giving him a big grin and a wave. "Ho-how are y-you?"

"I'm fucking fantastic. I got a present for you." Logan shrugged his backpack off and began rummaging around in it, searching for Barf's gift. "Since you got me something, I got Simon to find something for you. Since Dad's still grounded and I'm not letting him go out until he's all better."

Barf snickered a little at the idea and Logan grinned in response, finding the present and holding it out; a case for glasses, with cool little monster guys on them.

"I'm sorry it's not as cool as Black Sabbath." He muttered, toeing at the greasy concrete floor of the warehouse. "But I thought glasses were important and it was cool."

"I l-like it!" Barf hugged him and Logan preened at the praise, feeling proud of himself. "D-Dad's sick of fi-fixing them. S-so it h-helps." The other boy backed away and looked down at the case, studying the cartoonish pictures of the monsters with nubby little arms and legs and goofy smiles full of teeth.

"Thank you, Logan." Balthazar said, wiping his hands on a oil-splattered towel. "It was very thoughtful of you." He gave a small smile, peering at the monsters that decorated the case. "They re kinda cute."

"Cool." Both boys corrected him in unison. "Monsters aren't cute. They re cool." Logan insisted, earning a chuckle and an amused shake of the head from the man.

"My apologies." He said, still looking like he found it pretty funny. "You two are welcome to stay here." Balthazar said, before cutting his eyes to Logan. "Your father asked me yesterday to at least keep an eye on you while he's helping Simon with whatever it is they're doing today."

"Yeah." Logan frowned, kicking at the ground in helpless anger. "They're at a meeting. Planning and shit. Don't know why Martin won't let me help. I could think of something." Barf just gave him a sympathetic look and Balthazar shook his head.

"Probably because you are still a child. It's not quite your fight yet." He said, giving the boy a knowing look; already he knew that Logan was as curious as he was stubborn, like his father. "You and your father would drive Martin insane, constant questions and being smartasses." He added with a wry chuckle, turning back to the car.

"Well, Martin's a dumbass, so who cares?" Logan asked, as Barf got their soccer ball from his lucky bag and kicked it over. Logan stopped it with his foot before nudging it to the other, thinking things over. Balthazar snorted with laughter again, shaking his head in amusement.

"Nothing. You children need to learn how this world works now. You can t do that being sheltered away from everything." Balthazar said as he tinkered with the guts of the car, working with a wrench as Logan and Barf kicked the ball back and forth. Logan listened carefully, often exchanging meaningful looks. "It is a parent's job to not only protect their children, but also to prepare them for life on their own without them."

Logan smiled faintly, nodding in agreement. All Dad did was protect him and he did it while not treating him like he was a baby or not able to defend himself. He loved his Dad for that. For letting him understand that he might not have ever picked this life, but this life had picked him and all he could do was roll with the fucking punches and not give up.

He kicked the ball back to Barf, who grinned and bounced it on his foot. "Shit! You gotta teach me how to do that!" Logan said, after he had picked his jaw up off the floor. "Please?" He begged, not even caring that s what he was doing.

"Su-sure. I'm n-not the b-best. But w-we can t-try." Barf said, bouncing the ball up on his heel a couple of times. Little liar, he was good at that shit. Logan grinned broadly, gaze following the ball as it bounced up in the air.

Fucking awesome.


There were a lot of things that Negan hated fucking dealing with - and that he thought that might have been wiped out in light of the goddamned apocalypse - but apparently meetings were not one of those things. He shifted in his seat next to Simon and lazed back in his chair, ignoring Martin's glower as he did so.

Fucking hell he was bored as shit. Not even listing every Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, Metallica, AC/DC, and Black Sabbath song he could think of was helping. For a second, he wished he had burrowed Logan's walkman, so he wouldn't have to pretend to listen. It'd be a more productive use of his goddamned time.

Lord Commander Douchbag had been going on and fucking on for about fifteen minutes and Negan swore he could feel his brain starting to leak out of his ear, the world was going dark, and he was headed to the goddamned light. Rosebuds and shit.

Luckily, his shoulder wasn't giving him shit for it, and he was seated next to the most tolerable person Negan fucking knew besides Logan, Simon. Speaking of the mustachioed motherfucker.

The man elbowed him and Negan grudgingly dragged himself out of a daydream of doing any-fucking-thing else to see Martin had stopped pacing and kissing his own ass to look at his followers. Probably expected them to pick up where he fucking left off, Negan thought sourly, adjusting his arms across his chest and breathing slowly through his nose.

"Have we encountered any more of these groups? Or found our missing people?" He asked, looking towards Arat. The woman scowled and shook her head, rubbing at her temple with one hand.

"Not a peep, sir." She answered pragmatically, using a knife to clean beneath her fingernails. "Even some scouting parties into the city haven't run into them." She looked up at Martin, raising a brow. Either they moved on, which I doubt, or they re up to something.

"Perhaps." Martin hummed thoughtfully while Negan's stomach twisted at the idea. With so much bad blood happening between their two groups, he doubted the Marauders would just let them off without any consequences and move on. He sure as fuck wouldn't just let that sort of shit fly. "Maybe we can even meet some sort of peace agreement."

"Yeah fucking right." Negan grumbled, earning a glare from the leader of Railyards. "We killed some of their people, they've killed some of ours, some people are still goddamned MI-fucking-A. We're not gonna sit down and braid each other's fucking hair." He shrugged with a sneer, hands moving before settling back near his knees. "I think we should consider moving our goddamned territories. Find something more defensible. Either that or force them out and take theirs."

"That is not happening!" Martin snapped, slamming his hands on the table all the scavenger lieutenants sat around. The slap of skin against metal echoed around the now silent room. "We are not leaving our home because you fucked things up for all of us!" He growled, jabbing an accusa-fucking-tory finger in Negan's direction. "And attacking them is out of the question!"

"You better stop pointing that fucking thing at me before I snap it off and shove it up your fucking ass." Negan drawled, folding his arms across his chest and leaning slowly back into his seat. He didn't look away from Martin, while resting his boots on top of the table with two loud, pointed thuds. "Don't throw a dramaqueen shitfit with me because you didn't think this shit through."

Martin's lip curled as he stalked closer, skirting around the edge of the table. Negan kept himself still, not letting the other man think that he had any kind of fear of him. He merely looked up at the other man with lazy eyes, like he couldn't have cared less, but every muscle was tense and ready to kick Martin's teeth down his goddamned throat.

"Wanna run that by me again." Martin hissed, leaning close, getting almost nose to fucking nose with him.

"Did I fucking stutter?" Negan said, glaring right back and shifting slowly to sit up straighter in his seat. It took him a full fucking three seconds to realize his hand had closed around the handle of his bat. Martin's eyes narrowed as he sneered at Negan, opening his mouth.

The thunderous clang and subsequent screech of metal against metal came from outside. Gunshots and shouts followed. Everyone gathered in the room fell silent before scrambling for their shit, picking up guns and knives. Negan jumped to his feet, heading to the wall near and window for cover, cautiously peering out of it.

Negan could see an SUV with a crumpled front, smoke pouring out from under the fucked-up hood. Tiny flickers of flames were starting to crawl up from the dented metal as a horn blared across the rainy interior of Railyards. Caught along the front tires was a mangled piece of chainlink fence.

The gates were fucking down. Fucking fuck.

Negan swore, feeling his heart clench in an odd way, ice washing through his veins. He glanced at Simon, who looked pale and grave and then to Martin, who looked like he was about to shit a brick.

"Now fucking what?" Negan growled, jerking his head to indicate the chaos outside their fucking door.

Gunfire cut Martin off before he could even speak and everyone hunkered down as well as they could while glass shattered and bullets ricocheted off walls and floors.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT." Negan chanted, ducking his head down and covering it with his arm. Glass and metal shards exploded everywhere, littering the floor. He knew he couldn't just sit here with a thumb up his ass like a goddamn sitting duck. "Fucking cocksucking hell." He snarled, ears ringing so badly he couldn't even hear his own bitching and moaning. He grabbed his rifle, keeping a firm grip on the bat as he crouch-walked towards the fucking door.

He had to get to Logan. Get to Logan and get the fuckity fuck out of this shithole. He reached the door and was about to open it when it was kicked in. He had a fraction of a second to realize what was in front of him before he fired his rifle, nailing the man in front of him dead center and making him fly backwards onto his back. The recoil was absolute fucking hell on his wounded shoulder, but he grit his teeth and pushed on, stepping out to see two women and a man coming up the stairs.

He kicked the first down, and they went down like dominos, one after the other, until they fell into the mud in a tangle of limbs, guns, and curses. He hesitated, holding his rifle and looking down on the pile of people with his stomach in his throat and his blood rushing loudly through his ears, making his head throb with the beat. He licked his dry lips, swallowing painfully as he lifted the gun again.

Already the trio was scrambling to their feet, grabbing for their mud-splattered weapons. One of the women stood up first and Negan shot her when she did, sending her back into the mud with a startled scream. The second woman screeched something at him, but the blood in his ears was pumping too loudly to hear her clearly. He managed to wing her in the shoulder, making her stumble before the man tackled him and they went down into the mud, Negan on his back and the ugly bald bastard on top of him.

His gun was pinned between the two of them, across the upper portion of Negan s chest, near his goddamn collar bones. Baldy was quick to roll with the goddamn punches - literally - and nailed him in the cheek with a right hook that made his teeth creak and stars burst behind his closed eyelids. He moved his other fist back for another blow and Negan did the very first fucking thing he could think of, kneeing the cockgobbler right where it hurt.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the other woman advancing, holding a shotgun, blood smeared across her chin and a feral look in her eyes as she walked closer.

Fuck. He hissed, trying to shove the oher man off him, before managing to roll the other man off and scramble to his knees, raising his gun, just in time to bring himself almost nose to fucking nose with hers.

A thunderous boom made him blink, just as his rifle jerked in his hands, another sharp crack of gunfire echoing out, the stock slamming against his shoulder. The woman was hit once, staggering back once before she was felled by the second shot. Negan turned to see Simon standing in the doorway, holding his pistol and looking at Negan with a concerned expression.

"You okay, boss?" He asked, looking at the three dead Marauders with a sneer starting to curl under his mustache.

"Yeah." Negan panted, climbing to his feet. "Still in one fucking piece."

"I can see that." Simon said, tilting his head to peer around, in case they got more company coming. "What's the plan?"

His gut instinct was to open his mouth to tell the other man exactly what he could do with his plan when a soft step from inside the warehouse made the both of them turn.

Arat and several other of Martin s lieutenants stood near the threshold of the warehouse door, looking at Negan and Simon nervously. Only two or three remained near Martin, helping to patch up his wounds, the others were looking solely to Negan.

A glance at Simon found the man waiting patiently for something and Negan forced down a dry, painful swallow, feeling his shoulders hunch up unconsciously at the weight of so many eyes on him. This wasn't what he fucking wanted; he wasn't a leader and the only thing he wanted to do was to find his kid and get the fuck outta dodge. But now, having this shit, this responsibility, dumped in his lap made him want to goddamn throw up. But his stomach was empty.

'God-fucking-damnit.'


"God-fucking-damnit!" Logan swore as the soccer ball rolled away again, frustrated and heading towards pissed. He didn't know how the hell Barf managed to do soccer tricks, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it. Fucking ball was a dick. He sighed as Barf scampered off to retrieve it as it came to a stop against the far wall of the garage.

"D-don't worry. Y-you'll g-get it." His friend reassured him, trotting back over with ball in hand. "It t-took me fo-forever to l-learn." He said with a grin, making Logan smile grudgingly in return. That did go a long way to making him feel a little bit better. "I w-wouldn't go in-into a career of so-soccer though."

The faint sound of gunfire cut Logan off before he could reply. Balthazar jerked his head up from his work on the car, worry creasing his oil-streaked face. Barf looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, eyes darting frantically from side to side.

"D-dad?" The other boy finally stammered, looking to his father nervously. "W-what was t-that?" More gunfire, accompanied by the faint sound of people shouting followed his words.

"I don't know." Balthazar murmured, brows furrowed, before he stood up from his stool. More shots came, coming closer and closer. "Get behind the car." The man whispered frantically, waving the two of them towards the last car near the wall; the green SUV. Logan grabbed Barf s wrist and pulled him along, pushing him into the space before him and following after. Their backs were against the wall, leaving only a few inches between their shoes and the tires of the car.

He could hear the door bang open as he and Barf huddled behind the tires. Balthazar jumped away from the car, and Logan watched with mute shock and horror as the man held his hands up. A shot rang out and the mechanic let out a wheezing gasp before he fell to the floor, blood spiling from a rapidly growing spot on his oil-splattered shirt.

Balthazar's glasses hit the ground with a light tink. The wounded man's eyes flicked to Logan and Barf's hiding place and his mouth moved, shaping the words 'Quiet , before looking away. Logan gripped Barf s arm tightly, even as the younger boy clung to him, burying his face in Logan's shoulder.

"Fuck, Paul, why'd you shoot him?" A woman's sharp voice barked as Balthazar's labored breathing filled the garage. "We coulda used a mechanic." Logan couldn't turn away, couldn't do anything but stare, feeling completely helpless and trapped. Like invisible hands were holding him there and forcing his throat closed.

"He had a fucking gun, Faye." Asshole one growled back, walking over and kicking one of Balthazar's arms. He let out a little rasp in response, a gurgle at the end of it, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "Stupid bastard." Paul grunted, before firing another shot, this time into Balthazar's head.

Logan's ears rung at the blast and he shook his head. Swallowing down his breakfast in his throat before shrugging off Barf's hand on his shoulder. He slid his knife out, creeping forwards, feeling rage settle hot and heavy in his stomach. Paul's back was to him as he kneeled down, looking through Balthazar's pockets. And that made Logan all the angrier. He had to do something. Anything was better then just sitting there and doing nothing.

He jumped forward with an angry yell, leaping onto Paul's back and stabbing the blade frantically into the man s head and torso. Paul shrieked with pain, before dropping, sending Logan tumbling to the floor. He scrambled to his knees to see the woman staring at him, like she'd never seen a kid before.

She fumbled for her gun and he did the only thing he could think of, dropping the knife and unholstering his own. The gun going off several times nearly sent him on his ass. He stumbled backwards, tripping over Paul's limp, outstretched arm and landing painfully on his ass as the woman dropped to her knees before falling to the floor onto her side.

Logan remained where he was on the cold floor, panting heavily and shaking like a leaf. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to; he just wanted to curl up into a ball and make all this shit go away. A faint footstep startled him and he whipped around, lifting his gun towards the sound. Only to see Barf shakily approaching the lifeless form of his father, his face red and streaked with tears as his chin wobbled.

Logan lowered his arm, but didn't move, helpless to say or do anything. What could he say? Nothing he could say would help this.

More muffled shots came from outside, making Logan look away, even as guilt gnawed at his stomach and his chest felt empty. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, swaying a bit before checking the ammo on his beretta. Four bullets left.

He must've fired more then he meant to when he shot the lady. Bile clogged his throat and he dashed a few feet away to vomit, his shaking worse. Logan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned slowly to see Barf still crying and trembling in a pathetic huddle near Balthazar's body. Logan knew it was wrong, but he was grateful he didn't have to put down the man before he turned into a walker. He didn't know if he could've done it.

He approached as carefully as he could, stepping over Paul's arm again. A garbled growl made his turn his head, looking at the woman as she propped herself up stiffly on her hands. She looked up at him with dull, listless eyes and Logan swallowed back another wave of nausea that burnt the back of his throat. He raised the gun again as the woman snarled, showing her teeth like an angry dog.

He only shot once.


Mud squelched underfoot as Negan led some of the people, his people, through the rain-slogged grounds of Railyards, ears straining for any sound. Shots and screams rang out in the distance as the Marauders wreaked havoc on their home; they were starting fires as well, judging by the heavy scent of fire and smoke on the muggy air.

Negan leaned against the wall beside a shot-through window, pearing through the open area with shards of glass and across the grounds of Railyards. It was risky to plant his ass so close to a window where he could get it shot, but he had to get his fucking bearings and see what was going on in order to counterplan.

Several of Martin s (former?) lieutenants and a few people they had managed to scrounge up hunkered under cover behind him, watching him intently with apprehensive expressions. They were holding their weapons as Negan peered across muddy courtyards dotted with trailers and vehicles that their enemies had driven through their fences.

"Fucking fuck." He growled, leaning back before leaning forwards, squinting into the distance. Several cars were driving slowly along the roads, honking their horns occasionally and blaring music through their speakers. Behind them trailed the biggest herd of walkers Negan had ever seen. "They got a big ass herd headed our way." He informed the grim-looking survivors clustered around him. A column of smoke starting to slowly curl up into the grey, cloudy sky made him swear again. "And they're starting fires."

"The smoke and fire is gonna attract the walkers and keep 'em here until it burns out." Simon snarled angrily, mustache bristling. "Gonna herd 'em right to us and just watch the show. They won't have to do a goddamn thing."

"And what the fuck are we gonna do about that!?" Simon and Negan turned to see Martin glaring at them, Arat wrapping scraps of towels and cloth around the wound to his leg, a souvenir from the shattered glass earlier. Simon's lip curled as he glowered right back at the leader of Railyards, his face going a bit red.

"We can't do anything." Negan said, voice level and calm. As pants-pissing as this scenario could be, he knew what he had to do; it was just the fucking matter of doing it and doing it goddamn right and with a fucking time crunch to boot. "We will fight our way out and go. We can't defend Railyards with the fence out and a herd that size on our fucking doorstep." Martin opened his mouth argue, but Negan cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. "We'll gather whoever we can and whatever supplies we can snag and then we get the fuck out with the cars."

Martin grit his jaw, ice-blue eyes blazing angrily, but his lieutenants nodded, understanding that this was all they could do to escape with their lives and the lives of their loved ones.

Negan's fingers tightened around the handle of his bat, reveling in the worn, warm feeling of the wood beneath them as he waited for any objections he knew weren't coming. Martin and his few loyalists were outnumbered. They couldn't do jack shit.

"I want three people here as snipers." He said, doing his ut-fucking-most best to convey coolness and confidence. Three people (one man and two women) nodded and moved to position themselves. "Three people will guard them downstairs so they don't get fucking jumped Or chewed on." He added, almost as an afterthought. "The rest of us will get whatever and whoever we can and leave." He moved his eyes slowly and fucking purposefully over the assembled Railyarders and was met only with grim determination. "I don't want any goddamned heroes. It's balls to the fucking wall now people. Let's fiucking do this shit."

"Lead the way, boss." Simon said with a shrug, lifting his chin.

Negan gave a small smile and turned, Arat and Simon trailing after him at his heels.


Logan pulled Barf along with one hand around his wrist, gun in the other. He had heard his Dad talk about shitstorms and had always wondered about what they were, however now he knew. And he wished he didn't. He also wished Dad was here, since he was so busy wishing for shit.

But he wasn't and Logan had to be strong without him. Dad would come and find him.

Unless he's dead.

Logan grit his jaw, slamming the door shut on that idea. Dad was too strong to die. Too tough, too stubborn. So Logan would have to be too. They would survive together; they would always survive together.

A glance over at Barf showed that the other boy was still shell-shocked, trailing behind him like a walker that hadn t gotten the word yet that it was dead. Logan couldn't blame him; he squeezed Barf's wrist reassuringly, and the smaller kid looked up at him - face still red and streaming with tears - and nodded.

Logan gave a small flicker of a smile, before turning his attention back to where they were headed. He knew hiding would only get them killed, either bad guys or walkers would find them, and Logan only had three bullets left. His knife was still on his hip, but he was smaller then most other people, since he was still a kid.

'I can't fucking wait to be ten. Then I'll be taller and this shit will be easier.'

His mind flickered over to the clearing where Dad had taught him to shoot and Logan thought it over, chewing on his lower lip as they neared the rear door of the warehouse, all the way in the back. Only Dad knew about it, and it was away from the bad guys and the fire - that he could smell that made his nose itch.

Yeah. That'd work.

Mind made up, Logan stood on his tip-toes to peer out the window, Barf hunched close to his side. He could see the fences leaning awkwardly, a few dead ones shambling past on some goal only they knew about. He bet it was the fire that was drawing them closer. And that made him feel much better. It was so much easier to sneak by walkers when they were too distracted by something or someone to pay any attention to you.

"We're gonna go through the fence. Dad took me shooting out in the woods once. I know where it is and we'll hide there until he finds us." Logan whispered to Barf. When Dad didn't find them here, he'd know that Logan left and found another place to hide and wait for him.

"O-o-oka-ay." Barf whimpered, his stuttering even worse now. Logan gave him a sympathetic look, trying to convey how sorry he was. Nothing he could say would help what his friend was feeling right now.

"I'll be right there with you." Logan added. "I promise. I won't leave you behind, ever." He looked down at his feet for a moment or two before holding up one hand, pinky out. Barf stared at it before giving the tiniest ghost of a smile before copying Logan and curling his pinky around his. "C'mon."

Logan shoved open the door, leaning his shoulder against it; it was way heavier then it looked, but he managed. Barf followed after him, still nervous and scared, but deteremined too, even if he was still shaking like a leaf.

Logan's eyes searched the fence for any holes in or under it, and he spotted a portion of wire that had been cut, the edges pulled away. He elbowed Barf's side and they made a run for it.

Within seconds rough hands grabbed him by the back of his jacket, stopping him with a sudden jerk that made his teeth click together. He kicked and struggled, punched and screamed, cursing and hurling insults wildly.

"You cockgobbling shitbag, lemme go, you fucker!"

Barf whimpered in terror, eyes wide behind his glasses as another man with a shaved head and grimy clothes grabbed him too.

"Fucking shit!" The man holding him grunted as Logan elbowed him as hard as he could, still thrashing his legs. "Zane, help me with this bastard! One of the man's arms wrapped around his neck and Logan did the first thing that came to his mind; he grabbed the man's arm and bit down as hard as he could.

He tasted blood and felt a brief rush of pride before a fist hit him in the side of the head and everything turned dark.


The warehouses were dark and muggy, without the generators lighting them. Negan, Simon, and Arat crept slowly through the halls; Negan armed with his bat, Simon with Negan's rifle, and Arat with a knife. They would do their best to keep noise to a goddamn minimum, but carried enough firepower to fight back in a tight spot.

Many of the rooms they passed by were empty and ransacked, doors hanging by their fucking hinges and clothes and personal items strewn every-fucking-where. Where the owners of the items were, Negan had no fucking clue. And part of him didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was to find Logan.

"Where is everyone?" Arat whispered, breaking the eerie silence that hung over them all like a goddamned pall. Negan hadn't felt so on edge since the hospital when the Fall occurred. The silence grated on his ears in a way that almost pinged painfully through his head. The whole atmosphere felt cloying and wrong. Tense, like a rubber band being pulled all the way tight and just waiting for it to bust and snap the fuck out of your fingers.

"I don't have a goddamned clue." Negan rasped back, peering through the dim hallway ahead, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. "Can't be fucking dead." They weren't up to their asses in a horde of walkers of their fellow survivors. "We'd see bodies, walking or other-fucking-wise." Arat nodded grimly.

As they walk, Negan knows something is the fuck up; they don't see or hear anyone - walker or otherwise - in the warehouses, and there's nothing left but abandoned clothing and supplies. Soon enough they find themselves outside in the courtyard again, rain coming down in a torrential as fuck downpour as thunder rumbles and lightning crackles overhead.

And still not a soul to be seen.

Negan, Simon, and Arat stand under the roof and watch the storm rage around them. Negan holds his bat, clenching his hand around the now familiar handle as a flurry of emotions overtake him. The bat anchors him, keeps him grounded when all he wants to do is scream and rage.

'Lucille, give me strength.' He feels a bit of guilt, gnawing at his stomach when he thinks of asking his dead wife for something, but the words replay over and over in his mind like a broken record. 'Please. Lucille, give me strength.' He doesn't deserve any sort of favor from her, whether she can hear him or not. He refuses to accept that Logan might be dead; the alternative is too painful, too raw for him to believe. So sharp and focused, it feels like he's getting shot again.

Negan refuses to believe that Logan is dead. There's no goddamned way. Every-fucking-thing else in his life has been wrenched away from him, but he's not letting Logan go. Not without one hell of a fight. A nasty little part of him whispers that Logan is more than likely dead, or a walking corpse somewhere, but his mind instantly shuts down the idea, slams the door on it like a Jehovah's witness on a porch because he knows the little spitfuck is too stubborn to just roll over and die.

Negan forces himself to breathe, slow and steady, calm nerves, focus his anger, and steel himself for what he has to do now. Behind him, he hears Simon clear his throat. He gives it a few seconds before he turns, keeping his face neutral and blank.

Martin stands in front of him, supported by two of his lieutenants with his arms over their shoulders. He still looks pissed, but he's not as red as he usually is when he's mad, so Negan relieved he doesn't have to deal with a complete and utter shitfit right now.

They stare each other down for a couple of seconds, the silence tense and uncomfortable between them before Martin speaks.

"I heard that you can't find your kid." He doesn't sound sorry, but Negan didn't really expect him to. He stuffs down his anger, tilts his head and narrows his eyes slightly, waiting for the man to continue. "Some of the others are missing too." The leader of Railyards adds, watching Negan's face carefully. Negan doesn't know what Martin is getting at, but he knows to play his cards close to the vest with the fucker around. "There've been a couple that we've had to... put down, but some people have just... disappeared."

"They took them." Arat muttered, glowering with a dark look on her face. She's seated on a plastic bin she dragged from the inside, cleaning her gun with practiced ease, expression as stormy as their surroundings. Negan finds that he can relate to her pissy mood.

"We're not sure, but it's a possibilty." Martin says in response. His lieutenants say nothing; they're just there to help him and if they think otherwise, their carefully emotionless expressions aren't much for Negan to go on. He studies all of them as well as he can, waiting to see any sort of indication of what they're feeling to give him insight. He's good at reading people, all he needs is a fucking tidbit to glean from.

"What the fucking fuck do you mean, possibility?" Simon snaps, obviously irritated. His mustaches is practically bristling in anger. "Either they are or they're not." He growls, taking a step closer to Martin. One of Martin's lieutenants shoots him a warning look, his free hand going towards the machete belted to his hip before Negan swings the bat up, very gently tapping Simon on the shoulder with it and getting his attention.

"As fucking much as I hate agreeing with this prick, he does have a point, Si." He admitted, and saying those goddamned words leaves a bitter-ass taste in his mouth that makes him wish for the comforting burn of whiskey to wash it all away. But not now. Not until he finds Logan again, safe and fucking sound. He tries not to think of what he'll do if he doesn't. He'll burn that bridge when he comes to it. "Way I fucking see it, we need to follow them and get our fucking people back."

"And bring them back home." Martin adds, but Negan shakes his head with a disbelieving smirk growing across his face. He can't help the mirthless chuckle that breaks from him, even as his chest feels hollow.

"Hate to fucking break it to you, Marty, but this place ain't home anymore." He sneers, glaring coldly down at the shorter man with an unimpressed look. "Even if we could get the fences back up, how long until those bastards come a-fucking-knocking again." Negan shook his head, starting to slowly pace side to side, swinging the bat lazily near his legs as he did. "Stay here if you want." He stopped to level Martin with a serious stare. "But I'm leaving."

"Hope ya don't mind a road-trip buddy?" Simon said with a grin, earning a grudging smile and chuckle from Negan. Martin's glare turned to the mustachioed man now, his jaw clenching.

"Nah, I don't fucking mind. Logan likes you, so I guess we can keep you around." Negan muttered, swinging the bat up and resting the barrel of it on his shoulder, scratching at his stubbled cheek with his other hand.

"I like the idea of being cool Uncle Simon." Negan rolled his eyes, but Simon's cheerful amicabilty was something that he actually found he needed right now, with things looking so fucking glum and shitty. It helped soothe that empty ache sitting in the middle of his chest. It made Logan's absence just a tiny bit more bearable; of course, nothing would help more then getting the kid back.

"Well, I suppose someone will have to make sure you two idiots don't get yourselves killed." Arat sighed, voice apathetic, but a glimmer of humor in her dark eyes. She pushed herself up from her box to her feet, grabbing her rifle.

Martin made a choked-off sound of rage while his two lieutenants stared at Simon and Arat with thinly veiled anger.

"Where do you think you're going?" One asked, while the other glowered at them. Negan just grinned in response to their fury, almost relishing in it. Holy fuck, shit like this made his dick twitch in the best fucking way.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Martin spat, face turning an ugly shade of red in his anger. He broke free from the two stooges standing by his side, hobbling forwards to jab Negan in the chest sharply with one finger.

Despite the circumstances, Negan felt a flicker of grim amusement in his chest, and an answering grin slowly spread across his face.

"I'm fucking Negan."


The first thing Logan noticed when he woke up was that he had the worst freaking crick in his neck ever. He managed to peel his eyes open slowly, wincing as dull grey sunlight made them tear up.

He was being jostled against a car window, foggy from his breathing and streaked with rain on the outside. He looked next to him to see Barf, sitting with a one thousand yard stare and shivering and shaking. He tried to push himself up and found his hands were zip-tied behind his back.

"Sit the fuck still." A loud voice barked, making his head hurt. Logan glanced over to see a large man with short, dark hair and tattoos all over his arms and face sitting in the passenger seat. "Fucking little shit." He growled, glaring down at Logan. Logan glared right back. This was the man that had grabbed him and the one he had bitten. In fact, he had a scrap of clothe wrapped around his arm where Logan had gotten him.

"Fuck you! Pick on someone your own size, fatass!" He snapped, shoulders hunching instinctively in response.

"Jeeeeesus, Don, kid got you pegged." A laughing voice said, a skinny man with half his head shaved was driving, a rifle sitting in his lap.

"Shut the fuck up, Mike. Little smartass." Don huffed, adjusting his grip on the huge rifle in his hands. Logan sat up fully just to spite him, even though it made his head spin and he kinda wanted to throw up again. "Just do us a favor and shut the fuck up. We don't wanna hear your whining all the way back to base."

"Kiss my ass! I wasn't whining, bitchtits!" The skinny man, Mike, laughed again while Don whipped around and tried to grab Logan again with a large, meaty hand. "I'll fucking bite you again, fuckwich." Logan snarled, leaning out of his reach as well as he could and pulling at the zip tie holding his hands together. "You wanna lose a finger?"

"Can't we just fling the little shit out, Mike?" Don growled, his gaze flickering over to the other man. "Just say he opened the door and rolled outta the car or something?" Logan wished he could flip the fucker off and just settled for sticking his tongue out instead; it was the best he could do right now.

"Boss doesn't want the kids hurt, Don, you know that." Mike sighed, peering through the windshield as the rain came down harder. Logan looked too and could see that they were following another truck down the road. He could see the orange taillights through the rainy mist. "Just ignore him. He won't bother you if you don't bother him."

Don snorted and turned back around, grumbling under his breath. Logan slumped against the door, letting his head rest against the cool window and listening to the rain. Barf huddled close to him and Logan leaned against him, since he could move his arms from behind his back. He nervously watched as the scenary flash by, wondering where the hell they were going, and hoping that Dad would be able to find him.


Negan stepped out of the warehouses and into the courtyard, hearing the sound of walkers approaching in the distance, partially muffled by the sound of the torrential rain overhead.

There weren't many Railyarders left, only about thirty-five in all, and only about twenty-seven of those were willing to follow him and leave their former home. The rest were either on their asses on the fence or firmly in Martin's corner.

Negan felt his lip curl slightly, the muscles in his shoulders pulling taut as he watched several of the people - his people - load up the five vehicles they had managed to find. He refused to look at the green SUV sitting at the end of the line.

"Boss?" Simon's voice came from behind him, and he turned to see the man holding two shovels. "Got what ya asked for." Negan nodded and grabbed one of the shovels, walking past the people loading what supplies they could find into the short lines of cars and towards a patch of ground near the wall of a warehouse. He set his bat beside the body wrapped in a muddy sheet was laid out, tied off with rope. Balthazar.

Together, he and Simon started to dig, doing their best to heave shovel-fulls of muddy soil to one side. It was difficult and a little frustrating, but the exertion and repetition helped keep Negan's mind off of things. He could just focus it on the task at hand and not the way his stomach was leaden down and twisted up. Eventually, they made a deep enough grave to lay Balthazar's body in.

He and Simon stuck their shovels in the mound of wet earth they'd dug up, before shifting Balthazar's motionless, sheet-wrapped form into the hole. Negan getting the shoulders and Simon the feet. Not a word was said as they laid him as neatly and gently as they could, before climbing out of the grave themselves and looking down as rain came down, soaking them through their clothes.

"Should we say something?" Simon broke the silence, his usually cheerful voice soft and actually sensitive.

"Sorry it fucking came to this Balin." Negan said, voice hoarse and dry. He felt drained and exhausted, weariness tugging down on his bones and muscles. "Tell your wife I said hey." Negan grabbed his shovel again and started to pile the dirt back onto Balthazar's body. Simon watched him for a moment or two before following suite. It looked like he wanted to say something, but thankfully he just kept his big fucking mouth shut. Negan didn't want to have a little soul-bearing t te- -t te right now.

When they finished, Negan picked up his bat, brushing off any mud or water clinging to it as best as he could. He tossed the shovel in the back of the black pick-up at the front of the line, still feeling Simon's eyes on his back as he opened the passenger door and climbed in, settling the bat between his knees and leaning back in the seat, letting his eyes drift shut.

The driver's door opened, the truck shifting as Simon (and it could only be Simon) climbed inside, closing the door after him. They sat in silence for about a minute, rain pattering on the glass and the cab of the truck.

"You sure 'bout this, Boss?" Simon asked. Negan opened his eyes to see the other man watching him, dark eyes bright and alert.

"Yeah. Let's fucking rock and roll." Simon turned the keys and the truck rumbled to life, headlights flickering on. "Can't ex-fucking-xactly turn back now." He drawled, gaze flicking to the rear-view mirror to see the other cars turning on.

"No, not really." Simon snorted, resting his hands on the wheel, a small, grim smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upwards under his mustache. "Now what?"

"Take me down to paradise city. Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty." Negan hummed, earning shake of the head from Simon. The truck rolled forwards, the other vehicles in their tiny convoy following its lead. In the mirror on the passenger side, Negan could see the massive herd of walkers not even a mile away, milling slowly towards Railyards like a dark flood.

His mind flickered to Logan and he felt determination replace the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. The baseball bat's handle was warm and familiar in his grip, steadying and anchoring him to the present, reminding him what he needed to do. The promise he had made to himself and to Lucille. As Simon drove down the highway towards the city, Negan leaned back in the seat, mind racing.

'Hold on, kiddo. I'm coming.'