This morning I flinch awake, but not for the usual reason. I startle when I feel something that turns out to be a finger tracing across my forehead. When I open my eyes, I jump again when I realize it's him. His smile is calm and I hardly expect it to stay that way once he opens his mouth to speak. Remembering what transpired here last night, I shyly look over to the previously occupied space on the other side of him.

"She left," Negan says with a husky voice, "just you and me, sweetheart." His hand dips down under the blanket to caress my skin in a manner that's more like light groping.

"I should go, too." I rasp as his hand gently squeezes the back of my thigh.

"What's the rush, Nanette?" He smirks, inching himself closer to me while using one hand as a stand for his head, "It's twenty to five; we can get somewhere in that amount of time."

I roll onto my back with a groan, bringing my arm to my forehead. "Don't you ever tire out?"

He chuckles. "Not when there's a pretty girl in my bed that never ceases to amaze me." Negan slides his hand up to one of my breasts.

"I'm not the only wife of yours with smaller breasts." I claim when his hand lingers too long.

"No, but you could be the chapter president of the itty bitty titty committee. That's why I had Danica join us."

Don't say it. "Dwight didn't seem to mind them." I arch my brow, moving his hand away.

Negan's eyes squint as they scan my face. His smile grows. "That's because Dwight was use to bee stings. Ever take a gander at Sherry's?"

"Can't say that I did." I try to pull the covers back up, but he tugs them right back down.

"Did you and D ever add another gal into the mix?" Negan lets his hand go back to traipsing all over my flesh. "Or, hell, another man?"

I take his hand and move it off me. "No and I don't want to talk about him."

He prevents me from taking my hand away. "How about the looker in here?" Negan goes to open the ring on my finger, but I manage to slip my hand away.

"No." I sit up and look over at the calendar that sits flat on Negan's dresser.

"I'm only asking, because you certainly fuckin' knew what you were doing last night," He touches my back, "I mean, goddamn, I fuckin' blew a load just watching."

"I've been with women before."

Now Negan sits up and cranes his head to meet my eyes. "Are you shittin' me?" His voice has an annoying streak of excitement.

"No," I furrow my brows when he raises his, "If I like someone, I don't care what gender they are."

Negan puts an arm over to the other side of me as he shifts his body towards me. "You are shaping up to be my new favorite." He snickers before planting his mouth on mine.

I maneuver my head away. "Who was your favorite before?"

"I don't know...Sherry." He answers before grazing my neck with his stubble.

"Really?"

He gently pushes me down and his warm upper half presses against mine. "Mhm, sure."

"How come?" I ask, ignoring his attempt to heat things up.

"She was a bad liar like you."

I put a hand on his chest and he gazes down at me. "What does that mean?"

Negan smiles like a son of bitch and I feel his leg merge between mine. "She acted like she didn't like me, especially in front of other people, but once we we're alone...she was a tiger in the sack. Don't worry, I like you better. You got a way."

I turn my face from his when he tries to kiss me. "I don't really want to right now."

He snickers. "There's nothing wrong with liking me, baby," I glare up at him, "I'm good to you, aren't I?" He kisses my jaw wantonly. "Never leave you unsatisfied."

I inch my body out from under his. "I did what you wanted," I tell him as he rolls onto his back, "So can my friend have the medicine she needs?"

"What is it?" He puts his hands behind his head.

"Private."

"Actually, it fuckin' isn't," Negan's tone grows a little sharper, "She's getting it for free and she ain't even married to me. Apparently, it's something you were willing to have a threesome for and boy, did you stand and deliver." His teasing laughter brings about a sense of shame in me. How awkward is it going to be between Danica and me now?

I sigh heavily. "It's for a urinary tract infection," I look at his furrowing brows, "You should tell your men to bathe probably if they're going to be sexually active." Gross.

Negan chuckles. "I'll give a public service announcement on dick washing first thing after breakfast," I roll my eyes at his sarcasm, "Take her to Harlan to take the meds."

"Why?"

He takes my arm and pulls me to him. "Because those are the rules," He slides my ring off my finger despite my attempt to free my hand," And because I said fucking so. Don't think rules don't apply to you, because I like what you do with your mouth."

I cringe and then reach my other hand over for the ring, but he extends it out beyond my grasp. "Please." I softly ask.

"I'm gonna hang on to this, sweetheart, until I hear from the doctor personally that you obeyed the rules." I reluctantly get off the bed without trying to use sex to get my ring back, knowing it won't work. As much as he always seems to be willing, Negan, like Dwight, is smart enough to pick up on when he's being had. I collect my stuff off the floor by end of his bed and head for the door. "Nan," I look over at him as I open the door, "She doesn't have to pay for it, but I still want it on the books."

...

At breakfast, Danica and I don't really make eye contact. There's a sort of quietness in the room that comes from all the other wives knowing what happened last night between Negan, Danica, and myself. Danica agreed to our three way, which was what Negan wanted in exchange for allowing Marisol meds for free, but I could see afterwards she may have regretted it. Evidently, a three way is something Negan had not yet convinced any of the wives to participate in until last night. I think most people downstairs would be surprised and maybe disappointed.

Personally, it wasn't my first time. I had done it once before with Sylvie and her neighbor back in Barcelona. Still, it feels uncomfortable because Danica is clearly embarrassed which makes me feel like I've wronged her. When Negan enters the dining room, I leave my untouched breakfast and exit to go find Marisol.

She's in the mechanic's yard, about to get to work, when I walk over to her. She rolls her eyes and looks over at Cooper who's busy with another matter. "What is it this time?"

I also look over my shoulder at Cooper before answering lowly. "I can help you, if you still want me to."

Marisol's fiery expression drops and she steps closer to me. "Are you serious? How?"

"I can get you the pill, but you have to come with me to the infirmary. That's the only way Negan'll let it happen."

"Negan?" She looks almost fearful. "He knows?"

I shake my head. "No, no, I told him you had a UTI and I didn't use your name, but you have to take it in the infirmary because-"

"It's the rules." She completes with a huff. She puts her hand on her forehead and after a moment, she sighs. "Okay, fine."

After telling Cooper that she'll be back, the two of us go silently inside to the infirmary. We spend most of the walk without talking and Marisol follows behind me with her arms crossed against her stomach. As we get to the second floor, past Hal's door and Dwight's, there's a small sound of conversation going on in Laura's room.

"What?" Marisol asks when I slow down and listen.

"Nothing." I blush and keep walking. She looks at me funny, but I don't take it to heart since I know this is weird for both of us. We don't really know each other, but I still butted into her personal life. We're down the hall from the infirmary when Marisol stops.

"I don't know if I should do this," She brings a hand up to her stomach, "I thought about what you said."

"What did I say?"

"That I could get hurt...or die." Marisol starts to lollygag towards the infirmary and I hesitate before doing the same.

"So, why are we still going to the infirmary?"

"Because maybe I want another option..." She trails off in thought.

"What other option?"

We stop right at the door. "The doctor, Harlan, he said he delivered babies before..."

"...You're thinking of keeping it?" I don't mean to sound so taken back, but I am.

"I could always pick up other jobs, learn how to do more shit to earn more points," She puts her hands on the handle of the door, "If my mom could raise two kids on her own, so can I, right?"

"The situation's a little different," I point out, but I feel bad when she seems discouraged, "but it's possible."

Marisol nods and opens the door where we find the doctor sitting at his desk. He turns in his swivel chair and smiles at Marisol.

"Hello again," He stands up and puts his hand out to her, "I hope you're doing well."

"Fine, thanks." Marisol shakes his hand.

He then looks at me, briefly glancing at my attire before putting out his hand to me as well. "Good morning, ma'am."

Ugh, don't call me ma'am just because I'm married to Negan! "Good morning, I'm Nan."

"Harlan Carson," He shakes my hand, "Nice to meet you." Carson? Harlan draws his attention back to Marisol. "So, what can I do for you?"

Marisol looks at me and then at the floor. "Um, well I-I think," She breathes and straightens up, "I wanted to know if we had any vitamins that I could take for the baby." The way she went from uncertain to fearless in an instant is pretty admirable.

Harlan nods before going to the cabinet. "I think we have some prenatal vitamins," he crouches down to inspect the very bottom of the shelves, "they don't seem to be the chewable kind, which means they will probably be big and hard to swallow."

I clear my throat to get rid of a laugh. I might be spending too much time with Negan. Get it together.

"Least of my problems." She mutters.

"Here you go." He stands up and reads the bottle. Harlan looks over at me. "One a day, what's the most I can give her to take back to her quarter?"

"Seven," I inform, "She'll have to come back each week." Vitamins are the only thing here, besides band aids in the commissary, that workers are allowed to have in their quarters, but only in weekly doses.

"Okay." He sighs as he opens the bottle and hands her seven chalky looking tablets. He gets her some water to drink one down, then looks me over. "Would you like anything?"

I'm bewildered. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

Harlan asks Marisol if she'd like to do regular check ups to help keep track of everything and after they settle all that, I tell him to put the vitamins down as one dose of antibiotics because that's what Negan wants. But mostly to cover my tracks, because he's going to be looking for antibiotics on the log. Both her and I leave shortly after.

"Um," Marisol clears her throat, "thanks for...helping me."

"No problem."

"No, I really appreciate it." She insists. "I still don't know why you helped me, though."

"Maybe it's how I mess with people." I claim acridly.

"Oh, shit, I'm really sorry for being such a bitch earlier," She embarrassingly chuckles, "especially for the cracks at you being..."

"It's fine, really." My new tattoo is starting to itch, so I lightly scratch around it. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, are you going to be okay when Simon comes back and finds out?" I heard Negan say two days ago that Simon might need to come back soon for something.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Her response sounds a little less confident. "He probably won't even acknowledge it's his, even though he knows I haven't slept with anyone here except him. Too bad. I, uh, liked him." She glances over at my face. "Not like that, but...he's not so...bad when we were alone."

"Okay." I nod, but I don't think I understand how she could "like" Simon. I figured her and the other worker who slept with him for perks were both in it for strictly that.

"Well, I gotta go back to work," Marisol grins politely which is a first, "thanks again."

"Sure. If you need anything-"

"Yeah, thanks." She waves and then walks off to the stairwell. I look over at the clock on the wall and decide to turn around.

...

"Hey!" I jump at the sound of Hal's stern voice. "Move it along riff- raff!" I smile as he approaches with a towel slung over his shoulders. "I don't like shifty people hanging around my door."

"You're lucky you came in time," I play along, "I was about to pick the lock and clean the place out."

Hal laughs at me. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering how you were?" I have to force away a smile, but he catches it.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," He demands, "What do you want?"

"Are you making friends with anyone?" I smile, but it instantly fades and Hal turns around. "Hi."

"Hey." Dwight flippantly greets us both as he walks by.

I give Hal a look and he shakes his head warningly. "I wouldn't." I would.

When I turn down the hall, I see Dwight hasn't made it to this room yet. "D!" I pick up the pace. He stops, turns around, and I suddenly don't know what to do or say. "I...um, how are you?"

"Fine." He continues down the hallway, as do I.

"Hey, listen," It's really hard to keep up in heels with sore feet, "I'm sorry for-"

"I gotta go." He bluntly cuts me off. Before I can utter another syllable, he opens his door and basically slams it behind him. Shit. I linger for a minute by the door and try to count to five to build up the courage to knock, but another person comes down the hall so I back away. It's Davy, so I really have to go.

"Nice legs, sugar tits," He smirks, "Don't walk 'em into trouble, now."

I glance quickly at Dwight's door before flipping him off. "Fuck you." I head to the stairwell, knowing he won't pursue me because I have golden status. I do hear him mutter "cunt" which only makes me chuckle under my breath.

...

Later on in the night, after dinner which Negan did not attend, I decide that after reading Pride and Prejudice for most of the day; that I was going to try my hand at embroidery again. Frankie likes to knit and has a basket filled with not only knitting needles and yarn, but also other sewing crap, so I took what she said she didn't use.

Negan comes in an hour or so later, grabs a beer, and then has a seat between Hazel and I on the sofa, hoisting his boots up on the table. "Whatcha doing, sweet wife?" He leans over to peek.

"Embroidery." I sigh, continuing to stitch in and out of the cloth that's held down by the loop.

"Isn't that an old lady hobby?" He chuckles when I shrug. "What's it gonna say? Bone sweet bone?"

I set it on my lap and look at him. "Want it to?"

"Yes, ma'am," Negan plays with my ponytail, "maybe stitch a..." He gestures with his index finger and the 'o' he made with the other hand.

I snicker through my nose. "I'll see what I can do."

My words only encourage him. "Maybe ours?" He moves until his mouth is basically touching my ear. "Just make sure you're accurate." He lustfully kisses my neck below my ear.

I shift in my seat a little, oddly turned on by his ridiculous, childish words. "I did what you said and made sure my friend went to the infirmary to take the meds." He reclines and looks at me. "And Harlan documented it."

"And?"

"Can I have my-"

"You know what?" Negan stands up and strides on over to Tonya, putting his hand out for her. "Hold that thought, darlin'. Tonya and I are gonna spend some time together." And just like that, they're gone and I hate it.

I lie in bed twenty minutes later, despising that I felt something like desire at Negan's dirty talk and that I didn't like him putting me off for someone else. I'm not jealous, just disappointed. I feel like every time there's a ray of possibility that I can cope with my choice, be it through Stockholm Syndrome, or just by giving him a chance; he does this and I can't tell if it's on purpose. Most times, I think it's just his selfish, careless disregard for other people's feelings.

The sounds of him and Tonya can sort of be heard from down the hall. I let my mind wander to earlier in the day when I saw Dwight. I can't say that I blame him for closing the door in my face, after what Negan said the other day and how I lied to him. It's bad enough having to think about his late wife being with Negan, but now a second woman he was with. I may not have been someone special to him, but still...

I can't help but to recall when we reconciled after I came back from Alexandria. That was probably the best I had with him. How he was so good to me, even after I used Sherry to poke at him earlier in the day and sort of called him impotent. And even after that off the wall, stupid thing I did with my underwear, he laid his head down on me and slept.

It won't make me feel better, but I quietly stick my hand down between my legs as I lay on my side, facing the wall. I close my eyes with a heavy sigh and ignore Amber's snoring as I think about Dwight.

...

The next day, I wait until Negan returns from whatever it is he was doing all morning to confront him about my ring. He's in the drawing room, sitting on one of the bar stools and eating a sandwich.

I tap on his shoulder to get him to turn around. "Can I talk to you?"

"About?" He asks while chewing.

"My ring you took yesterday morning," I fiddle with the finger on my right hand where it was, "I obeyed the rules like you told me to, so I'd like the ring back...please."

Negan sniffs casually while taking another bite of his sandwich. "Sorry, I gave it to Tonya."

"What?" I frantically scan the room for her.

His mouth is closed, but he still throatily chuckles before swallowing. "Calm the hell down, I'm kidding."

I whip my eyes back to him, not amused. "Let me have it, please."

He twists his upper half to look behind him and glides his tongue across his top row of teeth. "Play me a song."

I glance at the piano. "I want my ring."

"I took it," Negan chews, "so, technically it's my ring and if I'm going to give it to you, I fucking want something in exchange."

"But you said you'd give it back to me, if I followed the rules." My cheeks are starting to warm up with anger.

"You were gonna follow the fuckin' rules either way." He wipes his face with a napkin.

"We had a deal."

"Did we shake on it?"

I take a deep breath. "No, but-"

"Then we didn't have a fucking deal, did we?" Negan smiles.

"So, you lied?"

"Might have," He stands, towering over me, "Go tickle the ivories and maybe later you can tickle something else." He winks and then laughs when I put my hand out. "And I'll trade you the ring back, Jesus." He shakes my hand.

I want to stick to my guns and argue this with him, but I know it'd be futile, so I walk over to the bench and pull it out to sit. Negan comes over as well and lifts a leg over to straddle the bench, facing me.

"What do you want me to play?" I look up at him with burning eyes.

"Surprise me, but no fuckin' quickies."

I delicately sweep my hands over the keys while trying to figure out what to play that wouldn't be considered a "quickie." I think about all the songs I can play without sheet music. After a some thought, I begin to play Chelsea Hotel No. 2, which proves to be difficult with another, domineering person on the bench.

I don't know how long he wants me to play, so I resign to play until the song ends or until he says to stop. The melancholy song use to be one of Charlie's favorites and he's been on my mind a lot lately since the quick approaching date. He use to hum or sing it to himself randomly, usually when he was working on something, or driving the truck. Sometimes, he would hum it while we lay in bed together.

But after last night, my mind can't help but to switch to Dwight. When he kicked me out of his room that we shared for less than two days, which I suppose was maybe the right thing to do. It was, right? He should've fought for you. No, I should've been honest with him and tried to mend things, instead of slithering back to the shade I'm so accustom to. You both were wrong. Everything about that whole fiasco was wrong. When the song comes to a close, I'm almost to the point of tears but I fight them down. I don't think everything was wrong...

Clapping in the background convinces me to timidly chuckle and blush a bit. I couple my hands in my lap, glancing through the side of my eye at Negan. He's silent, but only for a moment before sighing and then pulling down the fallboard.

"That was good." He finally, somberly praises.

I tilt my head his way, gazing into his subdued eyes. "Thanks." He just curiously stares back at me for what feels like forever, until he abruptly stands up and I do the same. "Hey, wait!"

"What?" His tone is suddenly rigid like it had been a few days ago.

"My ring," I disincline my brazen voice when he turns around, "I played you a song for it."

Negan knits his brows at me and I think I see something I've never seen before in his face, but I can't determine what exactly it is. He reaches into the pocket of his pants and then rudely flicks it at me. It falls onto the floor outside his room, which he enters while I squat down to pick it up.

Fuck! It dropped just right and whatever Hal used to fix the ring must have popped out. It's broken again. Something comes over me and I scoop the ring up in my hand and then barge into his room to give him a piece of my mind. However, upon entering, I'm halted by the sight of him sitting on the end of the bed, looking down on the floor with his hands clasped together.

"Get out." He commands with a tense lowness. As much as it would be wise to do as he says, I don't because I'm still pissed. I close the door behind me. "I said get the fuck out!" He booms.

"You broke my ring!" I shout back, but really only out of nervousness at his startling yell. I hold my hand up, so he can see what he did. "You're such a...asshole!"

Negan stands up and stalks over to me at an alarming rate and takes the ring from my hand before I can close it. "You're lucky I don't just take the fuckin' thing and melt it down for my dead fucks on the fence!"

Tears betray me as I grab his arm. "No, don't!"

"But not before I pop the pictures out and let them burn first!" He chuckles cruelly, but I can hear the lack of humor in his threat.

"Stop, I'm sorry!" My knees buckle and I let myself fall on them to floor, covering my face with my hands. I take deep breaths that keep trying to shallow and all I can hear is that in the silent room.

"Fucking get up," Negan orders after a seconds, "Get. Up."

I lift my head from my hands with quiet tears streaming down my face. I look up at him and then immediately feel a ton of shame being on my knees like this. Moving one leg out from under me, I put my hand on my knee and pick myself up. I can't make eye contact with him, so I turn my head away. "Please, can I have it back?" The pleading sound I make has my stomach in queasy knots.

Negan reaches out, irritably taking my hand, and enclosing the two halves of ring in my palm. When he doesn't take his hand away, my eyes meet his. I'm still breathing agitatedly as I watch and wait for him to either make some sort of threat, or asshole remark. Instead, he sighs, depleted. "Hell, look...I'm sorry."

"It's fine...I know someone who can maybe fix it." I croak bitterly.

Negan steps a little closer, leaning down until our lips are neighbors. His eyes are lowered, no longer seeing mine. "I'm sorry."

"Okay." I murmur, confused by his regretful tone. When his lips touch mine, I close in for a kiss that I figured would end just as soon as it started, but it doesn't. With my ring held firm in my fist, I let him pull me in.

We stand in that one spot, going at his pace, which is unusually slower and more sensual than normal. He moves his hands down the back of me in a gentle manner, until he reaches the hems of my dress, which he steadily hoists up to my stomach. Negan's hands crawl all over my skin as we continue to make out. After a while, his hands rest on my ribs and he steps backwards, taking me with him.

Once we're at the bed, he rotates us and picks me up briefly just to toss me on the bed. I start to take down my underwear, one hand still clasped around my ring, as he stands back to undo his knife belt and then the belt to his pants. I bring my heeled feet up on the edge of the bed as he works his way between them. My eyes close as he puts his mouth down on mine and enters me.

...

The small rectangular window that sits above the pane of rowed, glass squares, lets in a temperate breeze that travels all the way over to the bed. Negan and I lay there, now fully naked with nothing but sheets to veil us. I'm still concealing my ring in the hand that's resting on my chest.

Negan is quiet. His eyes are closed, but I know he's not asleep because his hand is rubbing his brow. I'm not sure what just happened, or what washed over me that lead to whatever we did. Whatever the case, I report that I wasn't entirely there for it. I'd like to say that I tried to block Dwight from my mind, but I couldn't and didn't. But what had been started wasn't initially related to him at all and that's what troubles me.

"How's the ink?" Negan breaks the silence, taking my arm and examining the back of my elbow.

"Not infected," I eye him as he looks it over, "It's healing up." He lets my arm go, but only after he bring me closer to him. "How's your wrist?" I put a finger on his wrapped wrist, which he moves away.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Negan tucks hair behind my ear as I lie on my stomach, "open your hand."

I glance at my fist and shake my head. "No," I don't falter at the look he gives me, "You're just gonna take it again."

He laughs, taking my fist in his hand, "I just want to see, c'mon open up." With distrusting eyes on him, I open my hand, exposing the broken memento. "Who are they?"

"My grandparents," I answer, half expecting some joke coming, "I was five here." Don't.

Negan plucks it up from my hand. "Cool your fuckin' jets, I'm just looking." I grimace as he brings the half between his fingers up to his eyes for a closer inspection. "You were a cute kid. What happened?" He laughs under me and wraps an arm around me when I try to move away. "Take a goddamn joke once in a while, you uptight fuck!"

I take the piece from his hand and as I do, he snatches up the other half. "Negan!" I push myself up to reach over him and grab the ring. "Please, give it back!"

"What are you willing to do for it?" He taunts.

"I played the piano for you!"

"And I provide a living for you." Negan's words make me stop and look down is disbelief.

"Yeah, and I married you and have sex with you for that reason," I sit back on my knees, "So, you don't get use that line every fucking time, because I think I earn my living more often than not."

He just chuckles. "Look at you. You're mighty fuckin' brave talking to me like that."

I glare at him. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

Negan's eyes survey my face and he smiles. "Say the magic word."

"I already did."

"Say it again. Nicely, like fucking you mean it."

We stare at each other, neither one of us wanting to break, but I know I have to in order to get what I want. I huff with reddening cheeks, softening my face. "Please, Negan. Can I have the ring back?"

His smile spreads, victorious. "Nope."

Damn him! My eyes get a little watery at his teasing since apparently I'm a crybaby nowadays. "Forget it." I slide myself out of the bed, taking my garments from the floor and putting them on.

"Holy hell, do you ever take a joke?"

"You always go too far." I numbly say, dressing with my back turned.

"Too far?" Negan mocks with a scoff. "Don't be so damn sensitive."

"I'm not being sensitive!" I snap, searing at him over my shoulder. "I can take a joke, but all you ever do is fucking prod me, like you do with everyone else, knowing fully well that we're not going to throw it right back at you!" He stares half- seriously at me. "Just fucking forget it!"

I frustratingly tug the dress pass my hips and don't ask him to zip it for me. Snatching up my shoes, wiping boiling tears with the back of my hand; I pad furiously to the door. "Nan." He sighs, and when I ignore him, "Anna!" I stop before opening the door, scowling at him. "Come here."

I go barefoot over to the bed and he holds out the other part of my ring, dropping it in my receiving hand. I stare at the two halves in my palm and then back at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you."

"Sit down," He motions to the empty side of the bed, "I didn't fuckin' mean to...hurt your feelings or whatever."

"I'm fine." I think Dwight and I have that in common. Always fine, but not really.

"He was, uh...pretty special, huh?" His eyes look at my hand.

I glimpse at him, unsure, before nodding and then stare at Lucille resting against the dresser. "Yeah."

"He died?"

"Obviously." I curtly answer.

"How?" Negan's question has my brows furrowing.

"...Sepsis."

"Damn," His reply sounds genuine, which puzzles me, "He turn?" I nod in response. "Did you put him down?"

I note the red heart on my ankle that blurs with tears. "No," I sniff, "Someone else had to. I couldn't do it." Yet another way I let him down. Negan's quiet again, so I turn my body to find what I think is a sympathetic face. "I know, I was weak."

"I didn't say that." He sits up; bringing some of the sheets up around his waist, and leaning against the headboard.

"His birthday is in two days." Don't.

"The twelfth?" He peculiarly inquires.

"Yeah," I analytically give him the up and down, " He would have been twenty-nine."

"How long were you together?" Negan's hand touches my thigh, but not as a sexual proposition.

"Four or five years," I answer, letting him rub my leg, "but..." Stop it.

"But?"

He'll just use it against you. "I wasn't good to him."

"...What do you mean by that?"

"I..." Even after all this time, it's still hard to admit it out loud. Still, I sigh, "I, um, cheated on him. A bunch of times."

"You took him for granted." Negan claims, almost accusatory, but the way he says it bewilders me. I flicker my eyes to the side and realize that he's not looking at me.

"I didn't take him for granted," I argue, which gets his attention from the dresser, "I loved him and I never second guessed that."

Negan scoffs and raises his brow. "So much so that you fuckin' stepped out on him."

"I made mistakes."

"It ain't a fucking mistake if you do it over and over again," He counters, taking his hand off my leg and laying back down with his hands pillowing his head, "It's no accident to suck dick that isn't your boyfriend's."

I laugh in disgust. "It wasn't another man."

Negan whistles. "Damn! Well, excuse me, sweetheart, but you still didn't mistakenly sit on some other girl's fucking face."

"Okay, you know what?" I spin myself completely around to face his lax expression. "I know I was a shitty person, alright? I don't need you to sit on your high horse and tell me what I already know. And I'm not going to try and explain my situation to someone who doesn't understand."

"Oh, I understand," He earnestly states, "I just don't like fucking excuses, which is sure as shit what you're trying to blow up my ass." My cheeks billow again at his dry truth. "Whatever you have to say about why you did it is probably just a crock of shit. No one can make you cheat on someone, Nan. You either have it in you, or you don't. Better people usually don't."

I stare at him, before I break down and sniff away tears that come anyway. "I know."

Negan rolls his eyes and makes a groaning sound of annoyance. "Jesus fucking Christ, quit with the fuckin' water works." I try, but my sobbing increases and so does his loss of patience. "If you're gonna keep that shit up, feeling sorry for yourself, you can get the fuck out and send someone else in."

"I'm sorry." My wall is practically crumbling at this point, he's broken a good sized chunk from me and don't even think he was trying to. Not like he'd mind anyway.

"Truth hurts don't it?" His lazy, yet sharp comment causes me to cry more, but I manage to get some control over myself.

"Do you want me to leave?" I rasp with wet eyelashes and a nearly running nose.

Negan smiles. "Are you gonna cry some more?" I shake my head. "Then, no, you can stay."

Leave. I stand on my knees to slide the dress back off. "I think I'm coming down with something." I speculate out of nowhere.

"You meant going down on something, right?" He laughs in this throat as he pulls me onto him. "Go see the doctor tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Stop crying," He insists, wiping my cheek, "You made bad choices in the past. All that matters is the choices we make now, right? A new world, a new fuckin' chance to do better."

I nod, backing under the sheets that he's thrown over me. His hand glides to my head from over the thin, luxurious fabric.

...

I sit on my bed, cross- legged and tapping my pen against my knee. After leaving Negan's bedroom some four hours ago, he's ready to go again, but called Amber in there.

For what I presume to be a lapse of judgment, I thought for a split second he was going to be truly kind to me and that I wouldn't feel like one these levers on the pen I'm holding that exposes a new color of ink when pressed. I know, stupid to think that I could actually find a level of understanding with my husband, right? It did seem like he understood, hell, he said he did. But then, he completely sledged- hammered into my already cracked wall.

Rolling my shoulders back, I focus more on my blank pad of paper with the design of writing a note to Dwight, despite my common sense telling me it would be extremely stupid. I taped the postcard back up on the wall. Negan doesn't know where I got it and I scarcely think he'll even notice to ask. Our little, painful chat made me realize that all I told him was what I should have told Dwight. Maybe if I had...

I put the pen to paper :

Please, as soon as you become aware that it's me who wrote this, please don't crumple it up and throw it away without reading it. Although, I highly recommend that you do burn this after reading. You probably don't remember this, because it was said on the night you were drunk, but you told me that you didn't know how to keep yourself from fucking things up with me. You said that it was your fault that we were always butting heads. Well, you claimed that it was my fault, sometimes, because I'm a bitch that you didn't want to be around, but that was the very reason you gave as to why you wanted to come back with me. You didn't want to be alone. Anyway, you went on to say that you wished you didn't want to be with me; that it made you think about Sherry and how it felt like some type of betrayal. But you believed that it was still better, what you meant by better was something you couldn't even describe, however you said it was when we were alone that you felt that way. You also said, "I think I think too much," and that's something I can easily relate to since I can never seem to quiet my thoughts. So much so, that I can't stop myself from thinking of you constantly. Whenever you really shouldn't be in my head; there you are. I don't know what that means, but I think that maybe it's because you were the first person who I felt some type of affinity with since I got here. I mean that in the way that we both know what it's like to not be able to be with the person who we love and are both so jaded that we have difficulty moving on. I told you about Charlie, but I didn't tell you everything. I've had a lot of time to think, and since we are separate from each other, I've decided to tell you what I should've told you from the start. It's only fair.

I would first off like to say that you were wrong that night when you said it wasn't my fault; it was. I won't say that we both can't share the blame as to why we didn't work out, but I will say that you were mistaken in thinking that I was more innocent than you. In fact, I would say that your faults alone might not have ever been heavy enough to crush whatever you tried to build between us; mine could. But, I want to tell you about Charlie, how I let him down, and why I let you down. I already mentioned that we, him and I, were together for four or five years and that he died a year ago. That was all I told you, because I wanted to protect myself from being hurt by you, like the way I hurt you when I would use yours and your wife's situation to get at you. Now, I'm just going to be vulnerably honest with you. I loved him, but I cheated on him numerous times. Always with the same woman, I think I mentioned her briefly before. He never made me feel inadequate, or unworthy of him and he never put me down in any way, shape, or form that could even be used as a justification for what I did. According to Negan, there isn't any excuse either way, which I suppose I can agree with. It's just that when people learn how good he was to me and how, despite his flaws, he was an all around likable person; I generally get bombarded with anything but sympathy which maybe I don't deserve. The woman I was with before him broke my heart, way more severely then I knew at the time. She was reckless, self-interested, and didn't believe in monogamy. I know that should've been my clue not to fall in love with her, but she also had really good qualities and knew how to make anyone feel special and wanted. People like that usually do. When she finally hurt me to the point where I could see that the good would never outweigh the bad, it was too late. My mother always said that relationship struck me like lightening. That I had unresolved trauma that resided in me that I couldn't shake. Every time she'd give me the time of day, I knew she'd hurt me, but I still craved her love like an addict.

Charlie was different than Sylvie. He was ennobling. He always told me that I was my own worst enemy and that I needed to face myself in order to save myself. He encouraged me to work through my issues, instead of feeding them. But I never handled temptation well; miserably in fact. I liked it when he'd shoot me straight, because it was the truth and the truth hurts, but I always needed to hear it. He could have easily given up on me, hell, he probably should have. I imagine a lot of people must have thought that he was an idiot for continuously taking me back. I thought that sometimes. But, he always did with faith that I meant it that time when I said I was ready to bury my demons. I think he would have even asked me to marry him, but the world had gone to hell and that seemed to be the furthest thing from both our minds. I know this sounds bad, but the world changing kind of felt like it worked out for me for awhile. What family we had that lived through the beginning of the outbreak, died along the way. It was hard, but we had to keep going. Whatever happened to Sylvie, I can't say because I hadn't seen her in five months before everything changed, but to be honest, I didn't care. Those months that Charlie and I survived together were the best and happiest times of my life. In a way, the world collapsing was the freshest and steadiest start we had ever had. But it didn't obviously last.

The few months that I was alone, after his death and before Simon found me, I believed that life was over for me. I kept living because he wanted me to and I let him down so many times before that I refused to again. I never planned on committing suicide, but we all know how easy it is in this world to die. But like I said, I swore not to give up, even though I felt like it. When I was brought here, as crazy as it sounds, the Sanctuary provided me the means to fulfill what I promised Charlie. Life would be harsh and unfair, but living was far more likely here than out there. Up until I killed Ronnie, I lived like any other worker here. Like a shovel that toiled until I was told to stop, having no sense of self -worth beyond my ability to dig the earth for him. Although I hated him and the Saviors, I just kept my head down and towed the line, because there wasn't much else I could do. I once heard that there's nobility and bravery in dying for what you believe is right and maybe that's true, but nowadays dying is too natural to be anything other than what it is. Lights out. And I've realized that I'm not ready to blow out the candles, even if it's miserable here.

I have to confess that I disliked you tremendously when I first met you. I lumped you with the rest of them, which you did say that that's because you are them. Or Negan. We are all Negan, as the damnable mantra goes. To be fair, you were an asshole to me. You barely spoke a word to me and when you did, you were short and rude. I think I could have shrugged that off, but it was when you told Reed not to give me the first points I would earn because I didn't kneel when you told me to when Negan was coming down the hall. It was a simple mistake, I was new and didn't know, but you made sure I learned. After that, I displaced all my resentment towards all Saviors towards you, whenever I'd see you. When Negan told me that I was going to shadow you, I think it goes without saying that I was less than stoked. And then finding out that it was to help you torment a man. You could tell me all the wrong Daryl and his people have done against us, and you did but it, as well as the conditions we subjected him to, only increased my beliefs that we are the wrong doers. Speaking of Daryl, you should know that he told me that you killed his friend with the cross bow that I'm now aware isn't yours, but his. I also know why you put that picture up in his cell and I can't think that Negan put you up to that. That was your own cruelty, Dwight. That being said, I started to lessen my dislike of you when you, for some reason, showed me the smallest shred of kindness, which I suspected was merely because I was reluctantly on my way to Saviorhood. Correct me if I'm wrong. Why were you nice to me? Do you even know? I sometimes like to think that maybe it's, despite what you say, because you aren't like them. Like him. That you are a better person, even after the things you've done, you're still somehow far more decent than most.

That night in the closet when I went down on you, to put it mildly, was unexpected, but I didn't regret it. Maybe it wasn't the best location, but after what happened at the river, something sparked in me when we were so close to one another in the closet. You treated me pretty poorly the next few days after that, but I don't blame you. I understand that maybe I crossed a boundary that I didn't ever really step back out of after that. Did you want me to? Would you have made the first move, if I hadn't? I guess it doesn't matter now. Awhile after that, you said that you wanted to be friends, which we both resolved to be unrealistic if we were continuously shagging like rabbits, as Hal would put it. Thank you for being nice to him, by the way. You also said you thought I'd be a distraction from her which did hurt me a little, I won't lie. It hurt those times when it was clear that you used me, because I never said anything to you, but it made me think that maybe you were thinking of her when we were together. As much as I still love Charlie, it was always your name I cried out. Don't get an ego, but whenever we were together, it felt good. Not just in the obvious way, but in a way I'm sure I can't explain because I don't really know for myself. I thought I would feel guilty, even though Charlie's dead and would want me to move on, because that's the kind of person he was. But, I didn't feel as badly as I thought I would; as I thought I should. I kept wanting you, sometimes for no reason other then the way you laughed like when you beat me in chess, or when our hands touched when I gave you your blanket back. Hell, even when you gave me an aspirin for my hangover.

I said it was my fault that we didn't work out and mean it. You were right; I was dishonest with you about Negan. I should've told you that he and I kissed in Alexandria and that he asked me to marry him, before agreeing to move into your room. I knew it wasn't right and still kept it from you, because I was afraid of how you would take it. In hindsight, I realize that you might have taken it better if I had told you from the get go. Please believe me when I say that my fear of you finding out was not that I was afraid of you. It was fear of you pushing me away finally and not ever reconciling with me. That was how we did things, right? Push and pull, always spurring each other and then crawling into each other's beds. I feared that you would not be like Charlie, which I now see to be a good thing, and not put up with me after slipping back into old habits. You proved me right. Despite everything that I knew about how you: that you have killed, your cruel treatment of Daryl, and even how you framed Carson, which I still don't understand; I wanted to be with you.

I think I'm selfish. I wanted to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted to be with you and not have to confront the fact that I was repeating the past. And I have to admit that I realize that, hypothetically, if we were still together that I would probably be content with you, but I don't know if you would be able to say the same. I had a lot of anxiety, insecurity, and doubt when I agreed to be with you, but I agreed anyway because it meant you wanted me like I wanted you. That, Dwight, is perhaps the biggest thing I have to apologize to you for. It was my fault, because I wasn't ready as much as I thought I was and I entered into a relationship that I was unqualified for and unworthy of. You are a far better person than I am; I don't care if you disagree with me. You always gave more than I ever did. And you never used any of my faults against me, even when I would do it to you. I traded my underwear to a guy whose name I didn't know for a joint, for god's sake, and you didn't judge me or store it for a later argument.

It's clear to me that, while you were uncertain if we would succeed, you were wiling to go all in and I wasn't. I never knew how to do that. I am unworthy of you. You have your faults, as everyone does, but you have always been honest with me. You admitted a lot of things that initially you were closed off about, and I was only worried about keeping the vital parts of me secured away from you. You tried and I failed before I even began, which in retrospect, was because I didn't even try. I had in mind when writing this rambling letter to not only explain myself, but to apologize to you. I'm sorry, Dwight. I truly am. If I thought for a split second that you would forgive me enough that we could try again, I'd like to think that I would leap in a heartbeat for that. That I could be better and hold myself to that. But, I have to report that I think I'm better suited to be his whore. Oops, I meant to say wife, but I won't cross whore out and write a kinder one over it. Being married to Negan is the first time in my life that I ever had to be straight and narrow, because I don't have it in me to let another person take the heat for my transgressions. In some twisted way, it's the very day of reckoning I had coming. To be married to someone who will never love me and who I must be faithful to. Like being chained to a lake of fire. I hope you can forgive me, D. I hope that we can at least be friends after some time has passed. If not, I understand and still wish the best for you. I may not have known you for a long time, but I know that you are a good person. I saw it through the humanity you showed me. Well, my hand is starting to hurt, so I guess I should end this here. Just a reminder: burn after reading.

I fold the two papers that are each covered, front and back, with ink and get up from my bed. This will only end badly. To be on the safe side, I tuck the letter under my dress and into my bra. As I open my door, Amber walks in with messy hair and downcast eyes. Shit, I took too long to write this and now Negan's out on the prowl. I walk out of the room and head for the door to the stairwell, as coolly as I can. I make it a good few feet, before that damning whistle serpents through the air.

"Where ya goin' off to, light of my life?" Negan jests. Fuck!

I turn around and grin faintly. "I was gonna go for a walk. It's a little stuffy up here, so I was just gonna stand outside for awhile." Negan leans against the wall, staring. "I wanted to feel the night air...you want to come?"

His smile disappears and his response sounds pissed off. "No, I don't want to fucking walk with you."

I wince at that, even though I didn't actually want him to. "Okay." That's all I say before I continue.

"Anna," I look over my shoulder as he calls me, "Hurry back." I look up at the hall clock that reads a few minutes into eight. I nod and then go.