inspired by:

Take Me Home, Country Roads

by John Denver

I still haven't been able to catch up on Season 8, but I plan on watching at least until the fourth episode just to see what's going on with the war. Anyway, happy new year everyone! I hope this chapter, being a filler and all, doesn't suck too bad.

The first chunk of this chapter takes a look at the past: the morning after part 2 of Off Road. The second chunk is sort of a flash forward to present times. Negan has retreated back to Sanctuary WITHOUT Georgia, she is locked up, and Dwight has betrayed the Saviors.


"Where the fuck are those little shits?"

Georgia sighed. "That was one of the biggest herds I've ever seen, Negan. It'll take a while before they're finished clearing the area."

"It shouldn't be taking them this long."

Negan ran his hand over his face. He was bored out of his mind and wanted nothing more than to jump into a shower and wash two days' worth of grime and blood off himself. He wouldn't mind having a soft bed to sleep on either.

The night had been cold and filled with eerie noises coming from the surrounding forest. Despite all these, Negan would have slept like a babe if it hadn't been for the fitful woman lying beside him on the tabletop. She'd kept tossing and turning and grumbling; it had been impossible for Negan to keep his eyes closed for more than five minutes.

Ultimately, when he had finally gotten tired of it, he'd buried his face between her thighs and licked, sucked, and nibbled until tears were running down her cheeks and she was pulling at his hair hard enough for it to hurt. She'd fallen asleep in seconds just from sheer exhaustion, but not before placing a soft kiss on his chest as he was making his way back up.

Now, Negan saw her agitation return. Georgia began pacing, swinging her bat here and there. Negan watched her as he allowed his thoughts to wander.

He recalled the words they'd had, nothing and no one else to hear them except for the wind, and how stunning she had looked beneath him – hair in disarray, eyes glazed over, and skin glistening in the moonlight. All supple curves and firm muscle and pert breasts tipped with perfect pink nipples. Negan shifted a bit, trying to remove the image from his mind's eye. It wouldn't do to have his men walk in on him with a raging boner.

I told you before. I'm the only one allowed to ever fucking touch you, remember?

Just the thought of anyone else getting their hands on Georgia had him seeing red. And not just rapists like Shaw. Anyone else. Negan wanted to possess her, body and soul, bloody bat and all. He still had her Polaroid; it was in the drawer of his desk, something he could look at when leading the Saviors was beginning to prove too difficult for him. He'd wanted to tape it onto the wall of his room, but he didn't think his wives would take too kindly to seeing their only real competition looking down at them while he fucked them brainless.

You ain't ever been just one of them, and you never will be.

Georgia was head and shoulders above his wives – of that, Negan was fucking sure. More than once, he had entertained the idea of just dropping the harem altogether and having Georgia as his one and only. She was qualified for it. And Negan would never let her go.

Thoughts like that scared the shit out of him. He'd thought that the end of the world had changed him, carved those kinds of feelings out of him like meat off a Thanksgiving turkey, but he was wrong. And it terrified him all the more because he hadn't really felt for anyone since Lucille, and Lucille… What would she think?

In a perfect world she'd still be alive, and perhaps she'd even approve of Georgia. The both of them were fierce, strong, confident; didn't take shit from anyone. Two peas in a pod.

But Lucille was gone, and the Sanctuary was all Negan had left – that, and Georgia. He'd be damned if he let Rick the Prick take those away from him. Although, he did wonder: should he tell Georgia about his musings? Would she want to know?

Negan stared at the back of her head, frowning in thought. She had one hand on her hip and the other held her bat propped over her shoulder. Looking forward. Always looking forward. She had said the previous night that she had his back, and he believed her.

He decided it would probably be best to put off his confession (if it could even be called that) until Rick and his goons were dealt with.

Before then, he thought, the corner of his mouth curling upwards as a gust of wind blew, spreading Georgia's hair rather thinly across the air as the sunlight hit her strands just right, I've got all I can handle right here.

.

.

.

Dwight stared at the girl lying on the floor of her cell; her eyes were closed and she was even filthier than she was the day she'd turned up at the compound. She was thinner, too, her cheekbones more pronounced the skin around her eyes sunken and grey.

"Have you been feeding her?" he demanded.

Rick shrugged. "Not much. We ain't running a charity, she's gotta understand that. And we need her as weak as possible so that we got any chance at making her turn against Negan."

"She's too stubborn for that." Dwight pursed his lips, shaking his head. "She's a good gal."

"She's brought this on herself." Rick's voice hardened, turning grittier and louder.

Georgia stirred from her sleep, bleary eyes blinking open until they focused and settled on Dwight. Then, they turned ice cold. She kept her mouth shut though; Dwight recalled Rick saying that she seemed to be making it a point not to utter a single word.

Sighing, Dwight crouched in front of the steel bars of her cage and looked at her, staring her hard in the eye. "I bet you'd give anything to claw my eyes out right now."

He waited.

Nothing.

"He's a lost cause, G. He's leading 'em into a bloodbath and he doesn't give a shit."

Her nostrils flared. The ice in her gaze melted, giving way for smoldering fire. "I always knew you were a fucking snake."

"Because it's Negan!" Dwight yelled. "You know he's a monster, Georgia, you know it. So what the fuck are you doing protecting him?"

She leaned forward and spoke slowly, as if he was a child, "You may have known him longer, but you don't know him like I do. He's always wanted the best for us, for Sanctuary. And what does he get? Liars and backstabbers."

"He saved you, showed you a better life, made you feel good about yourself. I get that. But it's all a mask, G. You gotta understand that. Beneath it all, he only ever looks out for himself." Dwight leaned in closer, begging for her to see reason. "I've already given Rick the information that he needs. They're gonna attack soon and I want you to be in on it. The rise of the new world. Something better."

She rolled her eyes, then, and laughed haughtily. "Fuck off, Dwight. I'm not Sherry."

Dwight shot to his feet, slamming his palms against the bars in frustration. "Goddammit, G! You think he's coming back for you? He's not. He thinks you're dead. The whole compound does. Stop sticking your head out for him and do something for yourself for once!"

He made to rattle the bars again but Rick quickly pulled him away. "That's enough," he muttered. "Come on. We've got bigger fish to fry."

Dwight turned away without another word, not wanting to look at Georgia for a second longer. She'd always been too headstrong for her own good, but now she didn't have anything to back it up with. No bat, no gun, no Negan. Rick wasn't capable of making her break her oath to Negan, which was a shame. She and Dwight had had some disagreements in the past but he didn't want to see her wilting away in a damp cell.

After everything she'd gone through, she deserved to survive.

And yet, if she refused to turn away from trash like Negan, maybe she didn't.