Author's note: Thank you guys all for the lovely reviews last chapter. I am so grateful to have such incredible readers like y'all. I hope you are having great weeks so far and that your weekends are wonderful! Just a quick warning, this chapter deals with sensitive subjects towards the end, please remember that this is a dark story. As always, please read, review, but most of all enjoy.

Stepping out from the cozy steam filled bathroom into the bedroom feels wonderful against my skin. Lately my temperature constantly feels like it's running somewhere between the heat from a raging furnace and the fourth level of hell. Holding out my second towel, I feel like some sort of bloated sumo wrestler, having to spread my legs wide apart to make room for my belly as I bend over far as I can at the waist, flipping my hair over to wrap into a towel turban.

The sound of Negan's slow, rhythmic breathing is music to my ears as I watch him sleep. The deep purple circles under his eyes highlight just how badly he needs it. It's a huge rarity for me to wake up before him, much less have time to get ready before he's even opened his eyes. I'm glad he feels relaxed enough to sleep in today. Maybe with everything solved with that group of hostiles, he'll let himself breathe for a moment now and again.

My poor back sings with momentary relief as I stretch my arms up and to the side before kneading on some of the angry knots constricting the muscles in my lower back. The towel wrapped around my body slips slightly and I let it fall to the floor in a heap.

"Good goddamn morning to me!" Negan's voice is rough and I turn around to look at him. His eyelids half open in a sleepy haze, lazy smush faced smile dimpling his cheeks from where he slept, head turned to the side on his stomach.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up," I smile at him, walking over to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, "I was about a half hour away from making funeral arrangements."

"Fuck that. I'm invincible," he mumbles rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "what time is it anyway?"

"Just a little after seven."

"Holy shit," his eyebrows raise with quiet surprise, "Damn. I never do that."

I shake my hair out of the towel, letting my long ringlets cascade down my shoulders and back, tickling the small of my waist. "Well I think you deserve it." I nudge Negan to the side and lay down next to him on top of the covers, the thin summer comforter is soft and cool against my bare skin.

"Mm, is that all I deserve?" He asks, grinning, as he slips his arm around me, stroking his fingers lightly up and down the bare skin of my back drawing trails of warmth with his fingertips.

I push the blankets down, admiring the masculine planes of Negan's chest, exploring the topography of him with my own fingertips. No sooner than when I placed my lips to his collarbone in a gentle kiss, the bed shakes.

"Oh fuck! No!" Negan complains as an exuberant, monocular, pit bull trots her way across the bed. "Agh!" He groans when she stomps all her weight onto his stomach, leaping over to tackle me with sloppy, wet, kisses.

Peals of laughter escape me as Bailey kisses every square inch of my face, her tail slapping against our legs and joy exuding from her single soft brown eye.

"I guess someone else wanted a good morning of her own," I laugh as Bailey squeezes herself between Negan's body and my own, pushing us both out of her way as she does. She cocks her head with her sweet wide smile when I scratch her favorite spot behind her ear.

Negan glowers as Bailey steals my affections. "She knows she's not fucking supposed to be up here."

"When you're here."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." I smile.

"You do not let that dirty mutt in our bed," He props himself up on his arm to peer over Bailey's head, "right?"

I press my lips together as I look away, not wanting to lie, but not fully wanting to admit to him the truth.

"Rori…"

"Come on!" I petition, taking Bailey's face in my hand gently, angling her head to look sideways at Negan, "could you say no to this perfect face?" I laugh as her tongue lolls out the side of her mouth to illustrate my point.

"With fucking ease," He deadpans with an unimpressed expression. "That dog is ugly as sin."

"No!" I make a show of pinning Bailey's flopping ears to the sides of her head, turning her to look back at me. "Don't you listen to the bad, scary, man. You're momma's beautiful Bailey girl." She rewards my compliments with more thumping of her tail and a big wet kiss across my face.

"Fucking disgusting. And she's getting fat too." Negan mutters as he sits up in bed, throwing the covers off himself.

"Funny, she said the same thing about you."

He shoots me a glare and I have to squeeze my lips together to hold back both know it's not true in the slightest. Even though his expression would say otherwise I see the light in his eyes. It's these moments that I love the most between us.

Negan makes his way to the closet and I pry myself off the bed to start putting on the clothes I'd set aside earlier this morning.

"So what's the leader of the Savior's day look like so far?" I ask, clasping a plain blue bra around my swollen chest.

"The usual bullshit," he calls his response from over his shoulder, "I have Dwight on the prisoner, but who the fuck knows how long it'll take him to get what I want out of him."

"What do you want out of him?" I ask. I've been trying to make sense of it in my head and I can't understand why Negan has such an interest in that man.

Negan appears out of the closet, dressed in his usual regalia. "I want, and I'm gonna get, one hell of a fucking soldier."

"Why would you want him in our ranks? He's killed our people." I add, I can't fathom his reasoning.

"One word, Darlin': Balls. He's got a mighty big pair, taking a swing at me after Lucille just offed one of his buddies. You never fucking waste a guy like that. It takes more work to break them, but it's worth the investment in the end."

I smooth my dress down over my belly. "Now what makes you think he'll fall in so easily?" I pose, "you said it yourself, you killed his friends right in front of him, took him prisoner. I doubt he'll be leaping at the chance to join up with us."

Negan laughs as he picks up Lucille, examining her frame within his hands. "I never said it would be easy. For him at least," he chuckles.

Something about the dark tint to his voice doesn't sit well with me when he says that. "What are you gonna do to him?" I ask warily.

"Whatever it takes."

"Torture?" He looks up at the disgust in my voice.

"Whatever the fuck he goes through is on him, Darlin'. I'm gonna get what I want. It's up to him how hard the road has to be to get there."

I don't say anything as I sit down on the bed to tie my boots. I know that man hurt our people, hell for all I know he could've been the one who killed Ben, but have we really fallen so far from the old world to resort to barbaric practices like torture? I spent three months of my life in utter hell because of men who believed they had a right to do whatever it takes to get what they want. When I look up now, it's that same cold determination that looks at me through the dark brown of Negan's eyes.

"What?" He questions. "Would you rather I kill him?"

I gnaw at the inside of my lip. My heart sinks at the sour turn I see this conversation is taking. "No." I grumble. I don't really know if that's true.

"Then I fucking have to do what has to fucking be done." Negan's voice is frigid and calculating.

I don't say anything in response. Patting the edge of the bed I summon Bailey to my side, grabbing her rope leash off the nightstand I loop it through her collar. I walk over with her and meet Negan by the doors of our room.

"Rori." I look up at his stern expression. "I don't want you to go anywhere near that prisoner. You are to stay away from him unless they bring him to you in the infirmary."

I'm sure the horror shows on my face. "Are you planning on hurting him?" I stammer.

"Like I said Darlin', it's up to him how far this goes." With that he opens the door, letting Bailey and I make our exit first before closing the door behind himself and leading us out for the day.


I'd had it today. Watching Dwight drag Daryl out from the infirmary for the umpteenth time this week after I'd had to set his broken nose, stitch up several new lacerations, and administer IV fluids. The conditions that man is being kept under are inhumane by even the lowest standards. It's beyond sickening.

I look both ways before committing to my path. Thankfully there's no one coming in either direction. I take a left at the fork, Bailey and I scuttle over to the door to the building behind the armory, The Hold. I know it's probably overkill, but I guide the door closed behind us to make sure it shuts quietly.

Dwight leans against the door to the third cell,waiting, just like he said he would. I can barely hear myself think over the blaring music ringing through the concrete building. Why would someone even write something so freaking annoying?

I reach into my backpack pulling out a small package. "Catch," I say as I toss it to him.

Dwight's nose crinkles as he examines the box, disgusted. "Jesus. I'm putting my ass on the line and the best you can scrounge up are menthols?"

"It was the only kind they had in full cartons," I defend myself. "And you have no idea the kinds of looks I got being pregnant, walking in there asking for cigarettes."

"Fine," he pushes away from the door to stand fully, "time for a smoke break. You have five minutes."

"Fifteen," I counter.

"Ten," he hands me the keys as he walks past me, heading towards the door. "I'll be right outside."

"Ten, and you take a walk."

"Why do you even want to be alone with that guy?" Dwight's eyes narrow. "He's a killer. He's dangerous."

"Any more dangerous than you? Or Negan? Or hell, me for god sake? No one's hands are clean anymore." I reply, none too keen on his holier than thou attitude. As if we all haven't had to do horrible things to keep our hearts beating. Killer or not, no one deserves to be tortured.

His jaw tightens at my words, as if he wasn't pleased with the comparison of his sins. "Still doesn't answer my question," he retorts.

"Human decency isn't a good enough excuse?" His expression confirms that it isn't. "How about building trust. Negan wants him as one of ours, right? You'll catch more flies with honey, and I'll have fewer broken noses to re-align."

Dwight shakes his head, dragging his hand along the mangled skin of his jawline before letting out a huff of air. "Whatever you say," he turns and resumes walking towards the door. "Ten minutes," he calls over his shoulder.

I wait, Bailey by my side, until the door closes behind Dwight, to hit the pause button on the CD player and unlock the cell. The man inside, curled up in the corner flinches back against the intrusion of the light. The smell of body odor, human waste, and vomit smacks me in the face. I have to fight back the urge to add to the mix with retching of my own.

My heart breaks at the sight of the man, knees pulled up to his chest, sitting stoic and dry faced in spite of the tear tracks that have carved pathways in the grime covering his skin. Bailey, intrigued by the unfamiliar aroma and the sight of who she's certain will be her new best friend, starts to trot her way inside the cell.

"No, Bailey," I stop her with my voice. She turns and looks at me with her one eye, head cocked in confusion. "Come - Sit - Good girl, now stay." Her tail swings low with disappointment as she follows my commands, taking up her post outside the cell.

In spite of the protest raging in my nose I enter Daryl's cell slowly.

"Do you remember me?" It might sound stupid to ask, but he's been in really bad shape every time he's seen me. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't. He doesn't even look up at me.

"Rori. The not-doctor-doctor from the infirmary. I've patched you up a couple times."

"I know who ya are," he growls quietly, still not bothering to look at me.

I reach into my bag, this time pulling out the baggie of unwrapped granola bars and a bottle of water. "Here," I say, holding out the food to the man.

Daryl eyes the bars simultaneously as if I've poisoned them and yet they're the most delicious delicacy he's ever seen.

"I'll take a bite if you want proof they're safe," I offer, "but it'll leave less for you."

I can practically see the conflict waging in his mind before he tries to moisten his cracked lips with his tongue and reaches for the bottle of water. He drinks so quickly that by the time he finishes it looks like half the bottle ended up spilling down the front of his soiled sweatshirt. I trade him the empty bottle for the baggie of granola bars.

Daryl devours the bars like a ravenous animal, terrified his food will be stolen before he has the chance to finish. I can't help but think back to all the times in the woods, I would sit trembling, curled up on the ground, burying my bare feet in the leaves in an attempt to keep warm as I'd scarf down whatever remnants of some halfway molded canned food my captors would throw my way. I know what it's like to feel more like a feral animal than human.

"You know, if you cooperate with him, your life could be good here." I say quietly, "We have bad apples like any community, but overall we're a good people."

"Good people?" He barks,terrifying rage burning in his eyes. "Bashin' in people's skulls, ya call that good people?"

"No worse than yours." I reply.

"My people ain't monsters," he spits, glaring at the floor in front of his feet again.

"Your people," I sneer, letting venom turn the words to a curse, "killed 30 men in their sleep. Your people killed my friend."

"An' yours killed my brothers!"

"Your brothers?" I start, "You think those 30 men weren't someone's brother, someone's husband, or father? My friend's name was Ben, he was kind and funny and couldn't hurt a fly if he tried. For all I know, you're the one who put a knife in his skull."

He glares up at me with rage and heartbreak in his eyes. His expression dumps water on the anger that has begun simmering within me. This is a man who's lost everything.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "You probably won't believe me. But I really am. I know what it's like to lose people." I fidget awkwardly with my hands, not sure what to do. Daryl doesn't reply, but he does hand me the empty plastic baggie. "I'm telling you the truth, you know. It doesn't have to be like this for you. If you cooperate, the torture ends," I add.

"The fuck do you care?" He mutters.

A million reasons run through my mind; human decency, weakness, aversion to violence.

"I don't know." It's the only honest answer I have.

I jump at the sound of Bailey's deep bark. Damn that was the quickest ten minutes I've ever experienced. Fucking Dwight, I got him a whole carton of cigarettes, the least he can do is hold up his end of the bargain.

I poke my head into the hallway. It's not Dwight.

"Hey there." The man smiles at me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. Dressed nice enough in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, it's clear this guy is a savior, just one I've never seen before.

My mouth goes dry at the realization that I'm caught. I have no idea what Negan will do to me, but I am fairly certain it won't be pretty. Bailey tucks herself against my leg, her hackles raised. She follows me as I step out of Daryl's cell, closing the door behind me.

"I-I'm just going." I stammer, my hands shaking as I fumble with the keys.

I gasp at the impact of the man's hand on the cell door, the sound reverberating in the empty hall. He leans casually against the door, his chest only inches from my shoulder as he looks down at me.

"I don't think we've met before. Negan's wife, right?" He asks, the faint smell of liquor oozing off his breath.

I nod briefly as I slip the correct key into the door, turning it to secure Daryl inside.

"I'm David."

"Um. Alright. I'm just gonna go now." My voice feels tight and my heart pounds. Maybe if I can just get out fast enough, he won't see a reason to tell Negan anything.

David steps to the side as I try to turn and leave. I have to halt in my tracks to keep from walking into him.

"Visiting the prisoner, right?" He says through a small smile. "I take it Negan doesn't know you're here."

"Look, if it's cigarettes, or movies, porn, whatever; I can get it for you." I step back with my hands open, almost losing my balance as I bump into Bailey standing behind me.

David takes a step forward, his head tilted slightly, looming down at me with a wide stance, his body imposing on my personal space. "Keeping something like this from the boss," he muses, "that's a big no-no. But come to think of it," he reaches out, swiping a loose tendril of hair behind my ear with his clammy fingers, "I think we could work out an arrangement."

The darkness in his muddy eyes and overwhelming layers of entendre in his tone leave no question as to what the details of this arrangement would be. "Dwight's gonna be back any minute," I caution him, slowly trying to back up without stepping on Bailey.

"Dwight and his former bride sure didn't seem to be heading back any time soon." He says slowly, reaching in his pocket to pull out a pack of menthol cigarettes. "Even gave me one of these to cover his shift."

Sweat begins to bead up on my forehead. This was a contingency I hadn't anticipated. David's eyes are beady and gleaming above his slight, tight lipped smile. In the game of predator and prey, I seem to have once again drawn the short stick.

"You won't do anything," I say, "not to Negan's wife."

"Are you gonna try telling him before or after I inform him of the private time you were spending with the prisoner?" He asks, mocking satisfaction dripping in his tone.

The room goes cold and I realize he's won. There's no easy way out of this mess. My bones tremble beneath my skin as I look into David's eyes, pleading. "Please don't," I whimper.

"Shhhh, it's okay." He says stepping closer, my legs feel frozen in place.

"P-please," I stammer again, tears brimming in my eyes. Not again, please god, not again. I feel so vulnerable as David wraps his arm around me, settling his damp palm in the small of my back.

I try to look away, to imagine myself somewhere else, but his hand clamps down on my jaw like a vice grip jerking me back to look at him. "Let's be a good girl, now," he chides. His sausagey fingers pinch in my cheeks as he lowers his lips to mine, in a repulsive kiss.

I choke out a sob against his lips before he pulls away. A vicious snarl echoes around us, tangling with an agonized scream. I seize the opportunity, pushing away from David as Bailey drags him further away from me, her jaws clamping into his hamstrings.

David roars with rage and pain as Bailey whips her head side to side, tearing and shredding his muscle.

"NO!" I scream, falling to my knees as it all unfolds too fast.

The shot almost deafens me and the whimper from Bailey pierces my heart. I never even saw him pull out the gun.

"BAILEY!" I cry, stumbling over to her on the ground. The hole in her chest is gushing blood way too fast, it spills out, covering my fingers as I try to apply pressure to the wound. Bailey's ribs heave futilely as she whines.

"You're gonna be okay," I tell her between gasping breaths, my vision swimming through the tears, "You're gonna be fine, baby. I've got you."

The door to The Hold swings open. I can't make out what Simon is shouting, everything goes silent as Bailey looks at me with pain in her loving brown eye. I see it in her face, the message she's trying to tell me.

I remove my shaking hands from her chest, slipping them underneath to cradle her body in my lap. "You're such a good girl," I tell her as I scratch behind her ear, just where she likes it.

"I love you, do you know that?" I choke between the sobs. "I'm gonna give you all the treats you want, baby girl. You can sleep on the bed every night. I love you so much." I bend down to kiss her on the head, and she meets me halfway, painting my cheek with weak kisses that'll never be enough.

"You're such a good dog, Bailey, such a good girl," I tell her. Her tail thumps twice at the sound of my praise before her body goes limp in my arms. My best friend is gone, she sacrificed her life to protect me. The world feels like it's crumbling.

My chest tightens like all the air in the hall has been sucked out. Gasping for breath the tears spill out, landing on Bailey's neck in little droplets like so many times before. Holding her to my chest, her musty dog smell clings to her fur, mixing with the coppery tang of blood.

"Rori," Simon's voice forces me to look up out of the haze. "What happened?" He questions harshly, as if the only innocent life in this compound didn't just bleed out in my arms.

"I already told you what happened!" David interjects, "Doc was treating the prisoner when he got violent with her. I pulled her out and the dog went crazy, started attacking me."

I can't speak through the hyperventilated breaths. I can't form the words to tell Simon that David should be killed on the spot. The only answer I can manage is to shake my head no.

"What does she know. She's not a reliable source. She's not thinking clearly." David growls.

Simon sits back on his haunches, running his fingers over his mustache. "Alright," he says to me, taking me by the arm to help me up, Bailey's body falling to the ground with a thump. "We can figure this mess out later. Let's get you both to the infirmary so you can fix up David's leg."

I tear my arm out of Simon's grasp, he looks at me taken aback. "He and his fucking leg can go to hell." I spit, barely maintaining control of my breaths.

I ignore the shocked expression on Simon's face and all sound medical advice for a pregnant woman, bending over to scoop up Bailey's body in my arms. I stumble slightly under her weight, her body feeling still only faintly warm and heavy against me. Her blood drips down my dress as I make my way to the door.

Pushing open the door, the somber dusk sky pays tribute to the beautiful life the world lost today. My back aches and my arms shake like jello from the weight. I barely make it to the grass of the square before my muscles give out. I drop to my knees, cradling Bailey against me; her fur tickles my cheek as we sit there together, surrounded by people, but alone.

A/N: Alright, that was hard. I hope you guys forgive me, but it needed to happen. If you're interested, I'll try to post a picture of the real life Bailey that fictional Bailey was based on and named for on my fanfiction profile.