NAYNA

The echoing of intense rapping pulled her out of the clutches of a nap she hadn't planned on taking. Startled into action, she rolled off the bed, sending Gone With the Wind flying across the room, and stumbled to the chair where her robe was hanging.

"Second," she called out, her tongue still thick with sleep, as she shrugged into the robe. Her fingers clumsily pulled the tie closed and she staggered to the door, throwing it open, praying her hair wasn't too messy.

Behind the door she found an annoyed looking Negan. Her heart sank and she looked down at her feet.

"It's ten in the fucking morning. Why the fuck are you still in bed?"

She sighed. It didn't matter that she'd been up from one in the morning until seven in the morning because she couldn't sleep. It didn't matter that she'd crawled into bed to get away from Carrie and Maria's incessant fucking bickering. None of that shit mattered to Negan. And attempting to explain just made her sound like she was full of excuses.

Truth be told, Nayna was tired all the time lately. Whenever Negan wasn't demanding things of her, she sneaked off to take a nap or to read, where she would end up sleeping anyway. And then night would come and she wouldn't be able to drop off. So then she would read or wander around or stand on the balcony and pilfer smokes from anyone who came by.

She'd never smoked so much in her life before. Hell, in the Old World she used to be a social smoker, and only when she was lit. Now, aside from sleep, it was one of the only things to look forward to. She had stopped looking forward to seeing Negan as well. He'd been such an asshole to her lately. Case in point, him glaring down at her, genuinely pissed off.

Nayna tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. Did you need me for something?"

"What? No fucking sarcastic ass comment? I'm fucking disappointed in you, doll."

She shrugged. She was tired of fighting all the time. Tired of swimming against the current. It was easier just to go with the flow and tread water. But eventually she'd get tired of that too and drown.

"You didn't answer my fucking question."

"I was actually reading and I dozed off."

"What were you reading?"

"Gone With the Wind."

"How many fucking times have you read that book?"

Again, she shrugged and stared at a point off his shoulder. She wished he would go away so she could just sleep some more. Even now, standing up, holding onto the door, her eyes grew heavy and she had to blink rapidly to keep herself awake. God, she hoped he didn't want sex.

But it was Negan and his eyes were already roaming. He reached out and fingered her robe. "Pretty."

"Thanks," she said dully.

He gestured inside her room with a raised brow. "Can I fucking come in or what?"

She opened the door wider and stepped out of his way. He brushed against her as he stepped in the room and her heart gave a trill at his touch. The touch she missed so fucking much. A tiny flicker of annoyance sparkled through her brain, but she quashed it down, too tired to beg. And far too proud. She closed the door and turned back to see him standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he surveyed the clothes strewn on the floor, the bed and the dresser top.

"This place is a fucking mess, doll."

It's not like she'd expected company, much less his company.

"I suppose," she mumbled and shuffled over to the chair, plopping herself down. "What do you want?"

Negan turned to her and put a look of mock hurt on his face. "Doll, what fucking makes you think I want something?"

She snorted and the flicker of annoyance flared up again. "I know you're not here because you're concerned for my well-being. Yo no soy pendejo."

Even though she wanted to believe he cared, in her heart she wasn't so sure anymore.

His glittering eyes turned to steel as he regarded her. "Is that what you really fucking think of me?"

She looked down at her hands. "Well, Joe—I'm sorry, Negan—that's the impression you've given me."

Hum. Apparently she did have a spark of fight left. She tucked one leg under her, adjusting her robe so she was mostly covered. Negan's eyes ran up and down her body, but she merely leaned her cheek on her hand, regarding him with a half-lidded gaze.

"Don't be so fuckin dramatic, holy fuckballs," Negan rolled his eyes and sat on her bed.

She sighed. "What do you want?"

"Jesus fuck, doll. What the fuck makes you think I want something?"

She sat back up and folded her arms over her breasts. "Because you never do anything altruistic? There's always something in it for you."

"What, the pleasure of my fucking company isn't enough for you anymore, doll?" he asked, his smile a mixture of teasing and smirking. But she was less than amused. Honestly, she just wanted him to go away so she could sleep more.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Just say your piece then, you've been fucking chewing on it long enough."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, glaring at her. "You're really starting to piss me off right the fuck now, Meghan."

She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat. "When don't I piss you off anymore?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Negan put a fist to his forehead and took in several deep breaths. "Doll, what the fuck is going on with you? Since you've gotten here you've done nothing but mope and sleep and pout and look like a fucking kicked puppy dog...And fucking smoke. It's fucking annoying and not sexy at all."

She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself forward, staring into those beautiful glittery, hazel eyes. "Since I've gotten here I've been ignored, used for sex only a handful of times, I've been screamed at by you several times, had several insulting comments thrown my way by you and others, had you slap my ass in front of everyone with your fucking ping pong paddle and overall been humiliated by you. You've treated every other wife, Amber included, way better than me. I came here for you. And all I get are the dregs. You don't even make love to me anymore. So yeah, I fucking mope and sleep and pout and smoke. Why? Because there is nothing else for me."

He furrowed his brows at her. "What the fuck did you expect when you came here? That you'd be Queen Shit of Asshole mountain? That shit don't fucking fly here and you fucking know it."

She slapped her palms down hard. "No, but I did expect you to treat me like you treat those other girls. Yeah maybe I had unreasonable, unrealistic expectations, but can you fucking blame me, Negan? The way you treat me here, is worlds different than you treat me here. I thought..."

"You fucking thought what?" he snarled, gritting his teeth.

She laughed bitterly. "Oh, Negan, it doesn't even fucking matter. Because it's you. Even if I sat you down and patted your hand and explained the problem you would find some excuse as to how it's not your fault."

"As would you."

"Well, we always said I was the kettle, didn't we?" she sneered.

Negan sighed and rubbed his temple, seemingly not the only one who didn't want to fight. But it was Negan and fight they would."Right now, looking at you, doll, all I see is a spoiled brat who is fucking stomping her feet because she hasn't gotten her way."

She leaned back, sliding her leg out from under her, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I see a dickbag without an ounce of empathy not giving a shit how he makes me feel."

Negan rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to fucking lift your feelings, your self-esteem or whatever bullshit your fucking generation came up with."

She snorted. "No, instead you kick sand in my face and expect me to smile politely and say 'thank you Oh High and Mighty, please can I have some more?'"

He pushed himself up and started to walk past her. "There is no fucking talking to you."

Nayna shook her head sadly. "Nor to you, Negan."

She caught his wrist before he could open the door. Nayna stroked her thumb along his pulse, leaning close to take in his musk. The smell she missed so much it made her heart ache with loneliness. His hand stiffened and he glared down at her, but said nothing.

"You know," she began, but her voice was shaky and she had to stop. "I did think it would be different, Joe. I thought you had real feelings for me. Why else would you want me to come back to the Sanctuary with you when I said I loved you? That wasn't you trying to manipulate me against Rick. That was you. The fucking man I know who is somewhere under all that tough exterior."

His breathing became more rapid and he stared down at her, a hard and questioning spark in his eyes. She turned over his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.

"I don't give two shits about the man on the outside, but I love the man I've seen on the inside. Even just from glimpses. Even with the way you've treated me here, I still love you and want you..." she whispered and his fingers curled around her chin and jaw while his thumb brushed across her cheek. "Why do I mope and sleep all the time? Because I miss you. Because I'm lonely. Because I'm tired. I thought by coming here that my problems would be ending. That I could protect you better here."

He shook his head. "Why do you fucking think I need protecting?"

She smiled into his hand. "Because it's what I do for those I love, whether they think they need it or not."

Negan shook his head. "I don't fucking understand you."

She looked up, stung. "You said to me you were the only man who did understand me."

"I understand your fucking mind, doll, I just don't fucking understand your actions. If I was treating you so badly, why the fuck did you not call me out on it? Like you would have in Alexandria? That's the woman I knew. "

He dragged his calloused thumb across her soft lips and she automatically turned her head side to side, rubbing her lips across his thumb.

"I don't know," she shrugged. But she knew, the more he kicked her, the more she wanted to pull back, but telling Negan would be like telling the wall..."The rules. You basically told me I was supposed to act like the rest of your wives. So I became bland. And invisible apparently."

"You're not fucking invisible," he growled.

Nayna looked up at him. "You make me feel that way."

Negan pulled his hand away from her face, frowning at the door. "I have to go make sure Dwight actually fucking left for the Outposts today. Doll..."

But he trailed off, chewing on his inner lip. His eyes flipped back to her, unreadable, unreachable. "I'll be back."

She said nothing, only watching his backside move through the door. He closed it behind him, leaving her alone.

"Case in point," she muttered to herself and stood. She shuffled back to the bed and laid down to sleep once more.

The moon shone brightly through her window when she finally woke up. Nayna rolled onto her side and rubbed the groggy from her eyes and the drool from her cheek. Then she passed her hand over the length of her face before rolling herself out of bed with much less panic than this morning.

More than anything she wanted to do was go back to sleep after she pissed. But the urge for a cigarette burned bright, until it was all she could think of, even as she pulled her panties back on. Three. She had exactly three. In the back of her mind she thought about what Negan would say, but decided not to care. He couldn't control her every move.

She stumbled across the crumpled clothes on the floor and kicked several out of the way before finding the most modest outfit she could. It still felt slutty to her. Slutty and wrong. But she still pulled on the skin tight pants and equally skin tight, and low cut, shirt in the dark.

Reaching over she flicked on the light and looked to the mirror, wincing at her own gaunt reflection. Her face remained hollow, despite the weight she'd put back on and then some, and there were black smudges underneath her eyes. Her hair was a fucking rat's nest, and she was so pale. She was a shadow of the laughing, giggling girl from the Old World.

Once Rick had sold her to Negan, all the laughter had dissipated from her world, returning when Negan took her to wife and leaving when he neglected her. She looked into the mirror again and sighed. Would that old girl recognize the sad apparition before her?

She pulled her tangled hair back into a low ponytail, and decided to forgo the makeup and slutty earrings. Negan was either asleep by now or he was fucking one of the wives. And she reminded herself that she vowed not to care anymore. Why bother getting pretty for someone who just didn't give a fuck about her?

She pulled her dresser open and pawed through it until she found the small rolled bundle she was looking for. Placing it carefully on the dresser, she turned to shrug into a jacket, even though it was hot outside. As she slid the bundle into the pocket, she slipped out of her room, down the hall and into the empty living quarters.

Nayna paused when she saw the light coming through the cracks of Negan's door. She resisted the strong urge that was pulling her towards him and instead put one foot in front of the other away from him. She had to stop this shit. He didn't fucking love her. And he never fucking would. Her feelings were irrelevant.

She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back tears at how stupid she was thinking he wanted her for her. Just stop, she told herself, trying to build her resolve. She'd built her bed and now she'd have to lie in it. Nayna propelled herself forward and down the corridor, alone.

It didn't take her long to reach the balcony and she sat with her back pressed against the window as she unrolled the cigarettes and a lighter from the bundle. Thank god for Gus. Otherwise she'd never get to fucking smoke. Sometimes she felt like Negan watched her like a hawk, while simultaneously ignoring the shit out of her. It was fucking frustrating.

She'd just taken her first drag when the doors opened and Dwight stepped through. Well fuck. Turning her gaze back to the stars, she pretended not to notice him frowning down at her.

"You shouldn't be out here."

She held out the cigarette to him. "Smoke?"

Dwight shook his head, sighing. "No. Negan would have a fucking fit if he caught you out here."

"Since when have I ever been bothered by anything Negan wants me to do?"

Dwight snorted. "Well you fucking should be."

Nayna shrugged and took another drag, exhaling the smoke slowly. "So should you. Anyway, Joe and I have our diff—fuck."

Shit, shit, shit. It had just popped out. She rubbed a hand over her temple, as if to rub the headache right out of her brain. Dwight was regarding her awkwardly and she took a deep breath. "Please don't tell him I called him that. He'd be so pissed if he found out."

"Your secret is safe with me," Dwight said and came to sit next to her. He held out his hand and she handed him the cigarette. "Not bad. Gus?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling her knees to her chest, draping an arm over them.

"Fucker knows how to roll some good fucking shit," Dwight said appreciatively, taking another pull.

"Oh god, if I end up with the munchies," she joked.

Dwight snorted. "Doubt it. Dunno where to find any of that shit nowadays."

She smiled weakly. "I do, but it's fucking far. All the way in Quantico."

"How the fuck?"

"I used to be a Federal Agent. Got the hook ups from the DEA, you know."

Dwight grinned at her. "Hah, really?"

She shrugged flippantly. "Rumor was a Navy Lieutenant was growing his own stuff...Ah, none of that shit matters now does it?"

"Not even a fucking little," Dwight said handing her the cigarette back.

She flicked the ashes over the side. "Oh the problems we used to have. They make me laugh now. I remember how upset I was when I was forced to shoot someone in the line of duty for the first time. Now? I just feel recoil."

Dwight nodded. "I know what you mean."

They sat in silence, each dwelling on their own regrets. It was a while before she spoke again, and the cigarette had burned down almost to the end.

"You killed Denise...Daryl says you were aiming for him. That true?" she asked, turning to stare at him.

He nodded. "I've done a lot of shit I don't like."

"Me too."

"It's the way of the world."

Nayna shook her head. "It doesn't have to be. It doesn't have to be like any of this. People are just assholes. That hasn't changed."

"True. But then again so are we."

She smiled, a little sadly. "Oh trust me, I know I'm not a good person anymore. I killed so many men and women. Innocent men and women. People who probably didn't deserve to die, but who we thought prudent to kill at the time."

Dwight nodded, watching her from the corner of his bad eye. It was hard for her to look at him, but she tried not to pity him too much. He wasn't the type to take kindly to pity.

Nayna went on, looking up at the waning moon. "Sometimes I feel like I deserve to die. I feel like...I feel like I'm dying a little inside everyday anyway. So why not now?"

Dwight stood and looked down at her coldly. "Look...just don't...Don't fear the reaper, okay?"

She looked up at him, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But Dwight merely turned away leaving her furrowing her brow at his back.