Flames licked the sky hungrily, consuming the slaughterhouse in a fiery grave. It would be a tomb of ashes for their fallen friends.

They'd found Primo, gunshot to the head, sprawled just outside the front door of the outpost. They'd brought him back to Molly and Simon had pulled up just as Regina was lighting the match.

The moustached man stood tall on his good leg as the building burned. The concrete shell would remain, but the crates inside and the roof would ensure incineration of everything else.

Arat took his hand as she stared into the flames, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Regina knelt in the dirt, tears wet on her cheeks, eyes closed against the heat. Daphne fought her own tears, not ready to deal with this just yet.

She wanted to go home. Lock herself in her room with a bottle of whiskey. Smash something.

They convoyed home, Daphne driving what had been Paula's truck. She found Primo's Black Sabbath album in the CD player and screamed along to it three times over the entire way.

She cut the music as they approached the Sanctuary, and gave Joey a somber nod as she passed him at the gate.

Negan stood with a handful of Saviors by the front door, and stepped forward at the lieutenants' approach. Ariadne was behind him, red-eyed and pale faced, Simon's empty wheelchair in hand.

Regina flew out of the Jeep, leaving the door wide open. Negan opened his arms and she leapt into them, clutching his jacket in an almost violent way.

Daphne relinquished the truck to Joey, who had decided he was on parking duty to give himself something to do.

It was eerily silent as Arat led Simon limping toward the group, Daphne in step with them. The other two Saviors that had been paired with them went straight into the bigger group, exchanging quiet hugs.

A sob ripped it's way from Regina's throat and Negan held her tightly as she gasped something unintelligible into his neck.

"It's okay baby girl," he crooned, and what was left of Daphne's heart shattered at the sight. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

Ariadne manoeuvred her way around Simon, and Arat lowered him into his chair. She nodded to the nurse and took the handles, wheeling him inside the front doors.

"Does Talia know?" Daphne asked the short nurse quietly, and the woman nodded, taking in a ragged breath.

"She hasn't told the kids yet." Ariadne crossed her arms as if she were cold, even in the warm sun. "She's buzzing around like a manic bee, tending to the pregnant women with Lily on her hip."

"Trying to keep busy," Daphne said, eyes still on Regina. "It'll catch up with her hard."

"I'll be there," the nurse promised, and she patted the lieutenant's arm softly. "I'll let you know when's a good time to visit." She turned to slip back inside just as Regina was recovering herself, pulling back from Negan's embrace.

"Are there still Nomads left?" she asked, wiping her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

Negan grinned. "Oh yes, there are lots to fuckin' choose from," he told her, spreading his arms.

"I'll take the biggest one, in the biggest room." Regina bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching her arms out. "And have one on reserve in case the first doesn't live long enough."

Daphne headed upstairs as Negan led Regina down to the cell block. She took them two at a time, all the way up to his penthouse, hoping to pilfer a bottle of something strong to take back to her room.

She burst inside, out of breath, and stopped short at the squeak of surprise from the bed.

A wide eyed redhead in a black dress sat curled up on the middle of Negan's bed, looking extremely uncomfortable at the sight of the woman who had been picking off wives.

"Are you supposed to be in here?" Daphne asked casually, turning towards the bar in the corner.

"Um, yeah, Negan asked me to wait here in case Regina needed me," the woman replied, wringing her hands.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "He whores out his wives to his lieutenants?" She plucked a full bottle of Irish whiskey from the shelf.

"No, no," the redhead said quickly, putting her hands up. "I'm a massage therapist."

"Ah, Frankie, right?" Daphne cracked open the bottle and took a long swig, relishing in the harsh burn on her sore throat.

"Yes." The black clad woman picked at the hem of her dress, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, Frankie, Regina is venting her misery by beating people to death in the basement." The blonde spread her arms, reminiscent of her swaggering leader. "So you're off the hook for now." She took another deep drink, and walked to the balcony, opening the ridiculously ornate glass doors.

She managed to climb the ladder with the bottle still clenched in her fist, and stood atop the Sanctuary in the blazing sun. It wasn't fair how beautiful the weather was. She wanted thunder and lightning and rain pelting her face.

Negan found her an hour later, sporting the beginnings of a sunburn, trying to shoot an empty whiskey bottle with the crossbow. The wooden table was in splinters all over the place, as if a tornado had hit it.

"Strawberry," he began, but immediately ducked when she turned to face him with the crossbow loaded. "Point that thing at the fuckin' ground!" he cried, and she lazily dropped her arm, eyes glazed.

"Not like I could fuckin' hit you anyway," she slurred, and sat down hard on her ass. "Ow."

Negan strode over and plucked the weapon from her limp hand, leaning it against the couch. He hooked an arm under her and dragged her, staggering, over to a copse of shade. He sat her down with her back to the bricks and plopped down next to her, dropping his jacket next to him.

"S'Regina ok?" Daphne asked, head rolling back and forth.

"I've got three brand spanking new corpses on the wall, workin' on a fuckin' fourth." He grinned.

She patted his arm weakly. "Y'a good boss." She peeled her eyelids open wide, blue orbs trying to focus on his face. "M'sorry I said you were the worst, y'not, y'the best."

Negan laughed, and pulled her head down onto his shoulder. She wavered a bit but found a comfy spot in the crook of his neck, and he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I don't fuckin' feel like it today," he admitted quietly, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She barely heard him in her haze, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of leather and cigars and Negan.

The scent of home.

Chapter 36

The radio tower was surprisingly spacious, though there was only one swivel chair for the operator. Negan reclined in it lazily, waiting for Gavin to take over for the operator on his end.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, Arat perched on the counter next to him, sharpening her knife.

Regina was the pinnacle of relaxation, laying on the opposite counter with her ankles crossed, admiring her bruised and split knuckles. She'd emerged from the basement covered in blood with maniacal eyes, showered, and then had Carson patch her back up again. At least there were five free cells now.

Daphne stood at the window, sipping at a bottle of water, happy for the sunglasses Arat had found for her. She'd woken up in Negan's bed, still fully clothed, and alone. By the time she'd showered and was starting to feel human again, Arat had come by her room to collect her for the meeting.

"Gavin here, over," came the crackly voice over the radio.

"What did fucknuts have to say over at Hilltop?" Negan drawled.

"Denied involvement, of course," Gavin replied, "but he did tell me about this guy Rick running a community called Alexandria. Had a rough looking redneck with him and a pregnant chick. They wanted to trade ammo for food but Gregory turned them down. He said they weren't happy about it, but left without incident. Over."

Daphne clapped her hands together. "That's got to be the guy. Paula said one of her hostages was a pregnant chick."

"You think he was telling the fuckin' truth?" Negan asked into the mouthpiece, stroking his beard in thought. Lucille leaned against the wall next to him, just as important a participant in this meeting as anyone else.

"That pussy wouldn't admit to being involved in this," Arat spat.

"No," Gavin replied, "but he's well and proper scared. I did notice that Ninja Jesus wasn't present. I'd bet my balls that he was helping at the outpost raid. Over."

Negan rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' Ninja Jesus. I keep meaning to kill that guy." He pressed the talk button. "Okay, I sent Ryan and his crew to do cleanup at the outpost, stay in touch with them in case something fuckin' happens. And keep a close fuckin' eye on Hilltop." He paused. "What about King Fuckin' Tiger? You think he's in on this?"

"No," Gavin responded without hesitation. "He's running his happy little kingdom and very much appreciates the deal we have going on. I'll make sure to ask him some questions when I pick up from him in two days, over."

"Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Negan said, and then swivelled around to face his team.

"Not exactly." Daphne adjusted her stance so that she was fully facing the group. "We know it's called Alexandria, but we don't know where it is or what they're packing."

"Especially if they had extra ammo to try to trade," Arat agreed.

Negan spread his arms with a grin. "Ladies, have you no fuckin' faith? I've got guys crawling the entire fuckin' area, and convoys between so they can daisy chain radio contact all the way back to me like good little girl scouts." He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned even farther back in his chair. "We'll have those cunts pinned in no time and then we can make like a fuckin' baby and head out."

Regina sat up and swung her long legs down to the floor in a graceful arc. "All set then, ring me when it's time to go." She saluted and strode to the door. "I'm borrowing Frankie," she called over her shoulder as she swept from the room.

"I want her back in one fuckin' piece!" he yelled through the door, a smile on his face.

Simon pushed off the wall. "I'm going to go eat. We probably have a long night ahead."

"I'll take you, Wheels," Arat offered, and he grunted at her, but didn't argue.

When the door shut, Negan swivelled to face his still partially hung over lieutenant. "How you feelin' there, strawberry daiquiri?"

"Your nicknames are out of control," Daphne said, and hopped up onto the counter that Regina had vacated. "Who's King Tiger?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fuckin' Ezekiel. Guy's got horses and speaks in shit-ye-not olde English. Apocalypse has done a fuckin' number on that guy's marbles. Apparently he has a goddamn tiger as a pet."

"That's ridiculous." She rubbed her eyes under her sunglasses. "But pretty badass if it's true." She sighed. "Thank you, for taking care of me. I promise I won't be that useless again."

"We all deal in our own fuckin' way," he said, and it was the closest thing to forgiveness that she felt she was going to get.

"How do you deal?" Daphne asked quietly.

"By burying myself in a good fuckin' woman," Negan replied with a small smile.

She barked a laugh. "Which wife would you like me to fetch for you?" She leaned back on her hands.

He bit his bottom lip as he appraised her, her lithe body stretched out before him on the counter like a feast. He stood and approached her like a predator closing in on its prey.

He put his fists on either side of her thighs and leaned forward, a lopsided grin forming at the hitch in her breath as he did. Her heart pounded at his close proximity and that quickly-becoming-familiar heat rose in her belly.

"I'm not a good woman," Daphne whispered, and he reached up to slide the sunglasses from her face. When blue eyes met amber, the temperature in the room rose ten degrees.

"I'm not a good fucking man," Negan growled, and they came together like a storm.

He clutched her possessively, winding a fist in her hair as they desperately kissed. She circled his hips with her legs, hooking her boots together behind his perfect ass. He snaked a hand under the back of her shirt, his palm leaving fire on her skin.

She grasped the collar of his jacket, devouring his mouth like her life depended on it. He swallowed her moans and started to push her tank top up her back. She shoved his jacket down his shoulders, and they broke their kiss to tear each other's clothes off.

Heavy breathing and the shuffle of fabric were the only sounds as they jerked each other's garments up, down, off. The hard thunk of a boot being kicked at the door. The zzzzzip of jeans opening and the grunts of wriggling out of tight denim.

Negan expertly unclipped the back of Daphne's bra, freeing her breasts to his warm mouth. He took a nipple between his teeth and she gasped as she shoved his boxers down. He groaned into her flesh as she took his massive cock in her hand, pumping it with a tight fist.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and ripped them in half, plunging two fingers into her slick heat.

She cried out at the welcome invasion, but she needed more. She braced her palms against his chiseled chest and shoved him hard. He fell into the chair, rolling backwards to smack into the windowsill.

Daphne was on him before he could react, and she lowered herself onto his thick rod in a swift motion. She grasped the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his lips back to hers as she rocked against him.

Negan wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her against him, groaning at how deep he was inside of her. She continued to roll her hips and he suckled her tongue, eliciting a whimper.

He reached down and caressed her clit in slow circles with his thumb, and she squealed into his mouth at the sensation. Her nerves were on fire, and being so utterly filled by him made her feel whole.

Her movements became erratic as he manipulated her little bundle of nerves. She threw her head back as an orgasm rippled through her, arching her back over his strong arm. He watched her with hooded eyes, enjoying the sight of her sweat slicked tits bouncing as she writhed against him.

He drew out the orgasm as long as he could and when he felt her muscles relax around his cock, he grabbed her hips in both hands. She braced herself on his knees and started to hop up and down, meeting his shallow thrusts.

Her hair tickled his thighs and her whimpers drove him wild and he wanted to just climb inside her forever.

Negan pushed forward, toppling them off of the chair, managing not to disengage their bodies in the process.

Daphne shrieked as she hit the floor, though he caught the back of her head with his hand. He pushed her knee up to open her further and pumped his hips roughly.

She dug her nails into the back of his neck and he growled, pounding her mercilessly as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes fluttered open and he stared into her, wondering not for the first time where the fuck this woman had come from. He was wholly addicted to her, her scent, the noises she made when he touched her, the feel of her tight pussy milking him for all it was worth.

The intensity in his amber eyes sent her over the edge, and she clenched around him as an orgasm exploded deep inside of her. Waves of pleasure shot from her core all the way to her toes and back again.

He couldn't hold back, and buried himself to the hilt, pulling her flush against him and sitting back. He cried out his release, and their lips met again.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and they rode out the aftershocks of their union, sitting on the floor of the radio tower.

"I like your way of dealing with things." Daphne breathed into his neck, placing a kiss there.

He chuckled and held her tightly, nuzzling her hair and breathing in deep the calming lavender scent. "Mutually fuckin' beneficial, strawberry."