Author's Note: So, I meant to put out chapter eight last night, but I had an exam this morning that I had to study for (screw pharmacology is all I have to say) so I'm putting out two today! This story has grown to be such a wonderful experience for me, and I hope for my readers as well! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read and review and share in this world with me for a little while. I appreciate all the wonderful support I've gotten. You people are the best.

My foot that narrowly escaped being walker bait this morning throbs painfully with each step, as I follow Negan through the Sanctuary to the mess hall. As we walk, I can see in the distance the commotion around the infirmary as several people are working in and around the building. I wonder if they have already removed Jack's corpse. The memory of his lifeless eyes and snarling, snapping, jaws sends a shiver down my spine. I knew Negan was right when he said I had behaved like an idiot this morning. I really hadn't thought it through at all and I was lucky it only ended in a very close call.

Negan seems to be paying little attention to the fact that I'm almost jogging to keep up with him. As we enter the mess hall, I'm incredibly glad that most of the sanctuary was not awake this morning to bear witness to the fiasco in the infirmary. I very likely would not have been let off with a simple week suspension from my job if that had not been the case. I know Negan likes me, but he is still the leader of a complex system of life here; he can't be seen as allowing me special treatment. Though he already has, I think, remembering the conversation I had had with Jack's friend yesterday. I try to figure out how exactly I want to bring up my request for clarification on the whole subject.

I watch as Negan loads up a tray with food for us both, bowls of oatmeal, several pieces of toast, and a couple apples from the fruit bin. The bartering attendant, a plump woman, streaks of grey running through her stringy hair, nodded at Negan, simply making note of what he took. I'm grateful I don't have to use my points ledger; I probably barely have enough to cover half a piece of toast much less the full breakfast Negan selected.

Exiting the mess hall, I'm surprised when Negan walks in the opposite direction of the Big House. I'd assumed we'd be eating breakfast in his room again. "Let's walk" he says, with a gesture of his head as he swings Lucille over his shoulder, balancing the tray full of food with his other arm. I follow him until we are walking along the fence line, the towering wall casting shade on us even in the soft morning light. We walk around until Negan stops at a large tree on the far side of the Sanctuary. The grass and tree itself are dead for the winter, but the view of the Sanctuary, bustling with the start of activities and movement of another day of labor is actually plenty beautiful on its own.

I get caught up for a moment watching the pulse of the compound, understanding for the umpteenth time just how much of a gift this place is. There's people and life and work here, as opposed to the pure survival that makes up a life on the outside.

"It's a delicate balance." Negan says, pulling me out of my thoughts. "The life you see in here, civilization, it comes at a fucking high cost nowadays. Cost means balance. You want to build a life? You're gonna have to build it on a fucking foundation of corpses. You want freedom to live and work? You're gonna have to be caged in like an animal for the rest of your god damn life." He takes his food off the tray and hands the rest to me. "Balance, Darlin'. Balance. That's what you're gonna have to learn."

I only partially track with his point, but I nod along anyway.

"You ever kill anyone, Darlin'?" he asks me.

I don't like thinking about it. "Once." I reply.

"Hm. They deserve it?" He takes a bite of oatmeal.

I shake my head. "No." He looks like he wants to press it for a moment, but decides otherwise.

"I've killed plenty of people." He strokes the sides of his beard as he speaks. "Lucille has touched the hearts and minds of many men, a couple women too, since this world went to shit. Some deserved it. Some probably didn't." His voice is calm and even, no sadness, but no pleasure in his words. I don't question their truth, but I wonder why he's telling me this now.

"Last night, however, I didn't kill anyone. I should have. They deserved it. But I didn't. Do you know why I didn't?" He looks at me expectantly for an answer.

"No." I take another bite of my toast.

"Balance, Sweetheart. Balance." He's looking out over the Sanctuary, watching the constant motion of people all over the place.

I don't know if it's the full belly, the peaceful conversation, or the adrenaline from my near death experience this morning but I'm feeling brave. "Can I ask you something?" He turns to me.

"Yesterday, at the infirmary, I had a weird conversation with one of the guards." His expression doesn't give me much to work with. "He came in to visit Jack. But he acted really strangely around me. He asked me if I was one of your wives." My confidence peters out a little as I'm getting deeper into this, it starts to fade from my voice. "I was really confused, so I asked him why he would think that. He told me he just assumed because I wasn't in the bunks with everyone else. He said only you and your wives live in the big house…"

His expression stays fairly deadpan as I speak. "I'm not hearing the question, Darlin'." He says.

"I guess I just wanted to ask you if you could clarify what on earth he was talking about." I feel like an absolute dingus.

"Let me show you something," is Negan's only response. With that he stands up and gives me a hand to do the same. He just leaves the trays under the tree as he slings Lucille over his shoulder. My skin tingles as he places his hand on the small of my back to guide me forward, heading back toward the big house. He doesn't say anything, as he leads me, still somewhat limping, on part two of our walk.

We reach the house and walk upstairs as if we were going back to his room, but instead of turning down the hall that leads to his room, we turn the opposite direction. We stop in front of a door that I've never been inside before. He opens the door and it swings back in a large arc, revealing an incredibly large living room space. There's multiple fancy brocade couches arranged in the center, an elegant full sized dining table in the back, another large library lining the walls on one side, and sitting around the room occupied with various tasks are three incredibly beautiful women clad in the nicest, and skimpiest, looking clothes I've seen since the world fell. There is one additional woman in the room, plainer, but still very beautiful. At the sight of Negan at their doorway, the scantily clad women drop to their knees and bow their heads in submission, the plainer looking girl takes a moment before doing the same, I catch her eye before she bows her head and see a hint of fear covering her expression.

"Hello, Ladies." Negan calls as he leads me into the room. "Get up. Introductions are in order." The girls all stand up at his command.

"Rori," he says beckoning me closer, "These ladies are Emily, Amber, Jackie, and Sherry. Ladies, this is Rori."

I feel like the queen of awkward. "Hi." I say painting a small smile on my face, trying to be polite to these new strangers. The tallest one, Emily, smiles warmly at me as she returns my greeting. Jackie, the blonde of the group smiles as well. Amber looks like she's smelt something terrible in the room; and, Sherry nods a silent greeting to me, her hands knotted together in front of her as her face wears a tense, fearful expression.

Negan takes over the room once more, "I'm sure you ladies will have time to all get acquainted at some point, but for now I'm going to have to ask you all to give Rori and I here, a bit of privacy." They all nod, and file out of the room in response.

"This room," Negan gestures to the lavishly decorated space we're standing in, "is for my wives. It's their common area. They can do whatever they'd like here. For the most part I get them anything they want, books, clothes, all the girl shit they ask for. In addition to this room, and mostly free range of the compound, they each have a room of their own along this hall. They're all the same, just like yours." He looks like he's studying my face for a reaction.

"But I'm not one of your wives." I say, trying to get him to speak clearly for once.

"No. Not yet at least." He agrees.

"Not yet?" I don't miss the implications of what he's saying. "But you want me to be."

"Yes." He smiles, his dimples are hypnotic.

"When you say wife… What exactly do you mean?" I feel a pit forming in my stomach.

"I mean wife in every sense of the word, Love. 'To have and to hold, in sickness and whatever'. My wives are always taken care of, and in return they take care of me." He winks on the last bit, every word laced with innuendo. "Of course, I'm not exactly hurting for options, if you get my drift. Not one of them ever has to do anything they don't fucking want to do." He makes a point to drive home the last part, which only somewhat helps the ever growing nervousness inside me.

"I don't know if I can do that." I say. I'm ashamed as I say it. I don't want to look him in the eyes. Realizing that my words probably sounded insulting, I tack on, "Not to say that I don't want to! I've thought about it – Shit, I mean. I – It's me. It's not you… It's me. I don't think I'm ready for that." I sound like a fourth grader, too embarrassed to even say the word 'sex.' "I'd never done it before… the forest was –" I stop myself. I had left that detail out in my recounting of my story the day after Negan had rescued me.

"You're a virgin?" he asks.

"Well, not – "

"– That doesn't count. It wasn't your choice."

"Then yes." I cast my eyes down, embarrassed. I had only told a handful of people before. It's not exactly a badge of honor to be a 23 year old virgin. His touch under my chin lifts my face to look at him.

His eyes melt a little from the mischievous flirt into the soft expression that warms my heart. "I'm not asking you yet, Darlin'," he says. "I intend to ask you, and I will, but not today. When I do ask you, and you do say yes. Because believe me, love, you will say yes," the mischievous smile is back, "you won't just be ready. You'll be begging me. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal."

Negan loops his arm around my back, pulling me into his body. His lips on the top of my head send a rush of warmth to my heart. His smell is intoxicating, and his arms make me feel safe.

"Now," he pulls away from the embrace, "you got to ask me a question, and I think I was more than fucking accommodating in my answer. It's only fair that I get one in return."

"Okay." He leads me by the small of my back once more, this time to the nearest couch in the center of the room. He props his boots up on the coffee table.

"Your nightmares," My stomach sinks, I was hoping he would let it go. He sees my expression. "I'm just checking in, that's all. Are they the same? Are you sleeping at all? And overall, how are you doing, with all that?"

"I never was phenomenal at math, but for the sake of being fair, I do believe that was three questions." I try to dodge the subject with a joke.

"Yeah, well that's the fucking nifty part about being the man in charge. I can ask for more than what's fair." He gives me a look that I translate to mean 'put away the smartass shit and just answer the question'.

I take a big breath. "They're different each time. But the same, you know?" He nods. "It's never the same exact scenario, but it's the same people, same place, same end result… I get sleep most nights. At least a little bit. But they do keep me up sometimes. And overall, I'm doing about as well as you could expect."

"Care to elaborate, Darlin'?"

"I mean obviously it's fucking hard," tears begin to well up but I fight to keep them back down, "but life moves forward, and eventually I will too."

"What did I talk to you about earlier?" He asks me.

"My dumbass decisions?" I say with a weak smile.

"Balance. Darlin', it's all about balance. That's what you're gonna have to learn. You went through a hell of a lot of shit, on top of shit, on top of the normal shit that just is this shit world. You don't just move on from shit on shit on shit. Otherwise, you're just carrying a lot of shit with you. Balance. You gotta let yourself feel it. Maybe even fucking talk about it. But you don't want to let yourself get so overwhelmed you drown in it. You have to know when to put it off so you can move forward. But the cost of putting it off, is having to deal with it later. It's all about Balance, baby girl."

"I get you." I reply. "It's just hard. I want to move on with my life, be whole, in all ways. But over it all, over and over in my head I can't get past the thought that maybe they broke me. Maybe I'm broken." I admit my worst fear.

"No. You're not." He looks deeply into my eyes, I can see tiny flecks of copper mixed with the toffee brown softness. "Those fuckers hurt you. Sure. They fucking wronged you. But they didn't break you. You might be a lot of things, Darlin, but broken sure isn't fucking one of them."