Did you miss me? I've really missed all of you! Let's get back to it, shall we?
Chapter 14: The Art of the Deal, Part V
Even though he was only slightly taller than average, Negan had a way of filling the space around him, pulling the room's energy and focus until everything around him seemed slight and small by comparison. Beth normally didn't mind – she was always slight and small compared to everyone else. But tonight, it annoyed her, and, in this space, her home, she didn't bother trying to hide it. She offered no greeting, just turned on her heel and moved back to the kitchen counter, putting her hands back into the bowl of bread dough she'd been kneading as if Negan weren't standing in her open doorway.
It threw him off slightly – he and Beth had a surprisingly easy relationship, quick-witted and often innuendo-laden (from him) and sarcastic (from her) quips served like tennis balls between two pros having a friendly sparing session. And even when things weren't so friendly – and they'd had their share of ugly exchanges (he'd never thought of them as fights - just a brutal honesty that only true friends could share) – there were always words. Her silent treatment was new and unnerving.
Still, he had too much on his mind to let her knock him off-track entirely. Keeping a wide, toothy smile on his face, he quipped, "I'm going to take the fact that you didn't slam the door in my face as an invitation to come in."
"You can take it however you like," she quipped back, her gaze firmly fixed on her work. It was the kind of reply he might have heard in any of their numerous exchanges, but tonight, there was a weighty edge to her tone. Tread lightly.
Negan didn't make it nearly six years into the new world by ignoring warning signs. But he didn't make it this far by letting himself be intimidated by them, either. So he strolled into Beth's apartment as if he'd been as graciously welcomed as he'd expected to be and took a slow turn around the main room. "Nice speech back there. You really know how to work a crowd."
"That's the difference between us, Negan. You think every time someone opens their mouth, they're workin' some kind of angle." She kept her back to him but was keenly aware of every movement as he shifted his weight behind her.
"Well, whatever the fuck it was, it worked. Got everyone calmed right down, got them focused on hating Hilltop instead of Alexandria. Should go a long way towards smoothing things out between your folks and us, assuming they can get their shit together."
Beth didn't respond, letting the silence grow until Negan couldn't help but break it, trying a different tact, "You know, in all the time we've known each other, I don't think I've ever been up here. But it is exactly like I'd expect from you."
After a beat of awkward silence, Beth finally offered him an opening, "Oh?" she asked with disinterest.
"Yes, ma'am," Negan plowed on with increasingly false enthusiasm, "Color everywhere, neat and clean but comfortable, lived in. All the homey touches that just make a person feel like they found an oasis in life's Sahara. Maybe I should get you to come downstairs, bring your magic touch and liven up my dreary little place," he grinned.
"Maybe you should get one of your wives to do it," Beth deadpanned.
"Dammit, Beth, I'm trying to be pleasant. I came all the way up six fucking flights of stairs just to see you."
She snorted, "You rode the elevator and came in off the fire escape. Ain't exactly a grand effort." She finished shaping the bread dough into a ball and covered the bowl with a cloth to let it rise before washing her hands, still stubbornly refusing to turn around.
Negan finally dropped his grin, "Come on, Beth, I need a sounding board. I got too much shit going on, I need you to help me get my mind straight."
"Again, you should go to your wife for that. Or one of them, anyways."
"I can't talk to them, you know I can't. Not about the serious shit. That's not who I am with them." He awkwardly glanced around before finally settling himself heavily on the arm of her couch. "Come on, Doc," he teased gently, "We always talk. You know I gotta come to you to get my head shrunk."
"Not here." Beth pulled a frying pan from the lower cabinet next to the stove and carefully set it on one of the burners. "We talk in my office, or yours, or the conference room, or anywhere else. Not here."
"Well, maybe what I have to say isn't something I want to risk being overheard."
Beth groaned, "Oh, geez, you ain't gonna to propose again, are ya?"
She didn't have to turn to know he was grinning again, "I love it when your southern drawl goes all thick like that and gets the better of you, but no, this isn't a marriage proposal. I learned my lesson last time, believe me."
"Then what do you want?" she sighed deeply, a near begging tone and an unspoken Get out! in her voice. Something he'd never heard from her before.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked quietly, genuinely curious.
"World ain't all about you, Negan. No matter how much you want it to be." Her whole frame was tense, he could tell, even just watching her pull a ceramic bowl of fresh eggs off the top of the fridge and begin to carefully wash the shells one by one with carefully measured movements.
He ignored the dig and pressed on, "But you are angry, aren't you? I've never seen you like this – "
Beth whipped around, "Of course I'm angry! I'm angry, Negan, ya happy now? And you know what, I get to be angry! I get to be angry, and tired, and scared, and frustrated, and heartbroken, and anything else I feel like feelin'. Two and a half years I spent tryin' to get my family back together. Two and a half years of worryin' myself sick over my sister, my brother-in-law, Judith and all the other kids I helped look after, Daryl – " she took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked furiously to keep the tears from falling. "Two and half years tryin' to keep hope alive inside me and for what? This? They've ruined everything, and I can't even be properly mad at 'em because they don't know they were ruinin' it. Two and a half years of buildin' a life for myself outta nothin', makin' a home and tryin' to do somethin' useful, be somethin' that matters. And now I finally got everythin' I been fightin' for right in front of me and I can't have any of it. My family's part of somethin' folks around here are never gonna forgive, my sister's sick and she's cut off from everyone who loves her, Daryl's here but I'm still as alone as I've ever been, maybe more. So I get to be angry, Negan, and everything else, too, but mostly angry. And I ain't gotta hide it, either. Because this right here – " she gestured to the space around them both. "This is mine. My home where I raise my children and put my head down at night. My space, my sanctuary, where I can feel and be whatever I like without havin' to worry about how it makes anyone else feel. Outside that door I gotta be the Doc that everyone needs, all smilin' and helpful and whatever else folks are expectin'. But these three rooms, they're the one place where I ain't gotta be anythin' but what I am. And you don't get to come in here and tell me I gotta be somethin' else for you. Not here."
Beth was seemingly spent, leaning back against the counter and breathing heavily through her nose, letting silence fill the space around them as they both processed her emotional outburst. She hadn't meant to let all that out at all, and definitely not to him, but it was done and there was no going back.
It was several long moments before Negan quietly murmured, not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out. He swallowed to clear his throat before trying again, this time looking up at her, "Beth, I'm sorry."
"You ain't got to be sorry," she grumbled. "Well, not for this, anyhow."
"I'm not apologizing for anything I've done," Negan acknowledged. "I'm just… I'm sorry that all this is hurting you. I'm sorry you're in the middle of all this shit."
She nodded, accepting his sympathies. If there was one thing she could genuinely say she liked about Negan, it was that they were always honest with each other. So if he said he was sorry, she knew he meant it.
He let the silence stretch again before asking, seemingly out of the blue, "Do you remember what you said to me the last time I proposed to you?"
"Oh, God, this is another marriage proposal," she groaned.
"No," he reaffirmed. "I'm just asking if you remember what you said."
"Is this really what you wanted to talk about?" she hedged, hoping to cut off wherever this train of thought was heading.
"Do you remember?" he pressed.
"I remember sayin' no."
"Come on, Beth, humor me. What did you say?"
She sighed, then looked him straight in the eye, letting him know that she wasn't going to shy away from it, "I said that, even if I didn't already have someone out there, I would never even think of marryin' a hypocrite. What I want and need is somethin' real, and you can't even be real with yourself, much less anyone else. I said that my Daddy taught me that people tend to judge in others what they most hate about themselves. You make rules not because they're good for folks, but because they're the things you wish you hadn't done. You tell people they gotta be honest because you were a liar. You burn people's faces off for cheatin' because you betrayed your Lucille. And you can't stand, more than anythin' else, when people are cowards or don't step up and do their part, because when she needed you most, you weren't there. And maybe I could be alright with all that if you were usin' your rules to change yourself, but you don't. You say it's all about bein' fair and respectful and civilized, but you play favorites. Not everyone has to live by your rules if they're willin' to do your dirty work, build up your little world with you at the center. Well, I ain't here to sing your praises and I sure as heck ain't gonna spend the rest of my life bein' some poor, pitiful substitute for your dead wife. You might think you're leadin' the Saviors, but I think you're the one who needs savin' most of all."
Negan tipped his head slightly with a nod, "So I guess that means you do remember."
That finally drew a slight chuckle out of Beth and a slight relaxing of her posture, which he took as a good sign.
"No one talks to me like that," there was no malice or threat in his words, just a rueful acknowledgement. "But you stripped me down, flayed me open for the world to see. The next day you carried on like nothing had happened. But I couldn't stop thinking about it, about how right you were about me, about all of this," he spread his arms wide, gesturing metaphorically to the world he'd built. "Took a while for me to really let it all sink in, but I've tried to change, to make good changes here. Got everyone into their own places, stopped letting my top dogs take without paying. Having long, honest conversations with each of my wives about whether they really wanted to be where they were, giving them the space to move on and have lives of their own without fearing what I'd do. None of that would have happened if it weren't for you."
"You don't know that," Beth allowed. "I like to think you would've seen your way to makin' things better here on your own, eventually."
Negan shook his head, "I'm stubborn as shit, woman. Hard truth's gotta smack me square in the face before I even think of changing, and I'll still be slow to do it. My Lucille learned that the hard way, bore the brunt of so many of my stupid choices. You remind me a lot of her. Don't look a damn bit like her, mind you, but that orphan Annie, "the sun'll come out tomorrow" optimism you carry around, and the grit and determination you keep underneath it all to make it happen… I mean it, this place would not be what it is if it weren't for you. The Sanctuary, the Saviors, they're better because of you. Stronger, more solid, because of you."
He stood and stepped towards her, "It's why I need you. You're one of the only people in the world whose opinion I actually give a flying fuck about. Hell, you're one of the few people whose life I actually care about. My kids, wives, couple of others I'd miss if they were gone."
Beth narrowed her eyes, "You want me to call you on your crap now or wait until you've finished?" Negan raised his eyebrows and allowed a bit of his trademark grin to creep back into his expression. She continued, "Not two hours ago, Charlie Preston let a little of his grief show and you were near two seconds away from swinging Lucille at him for it. You might have changed a lot of things around here for the better, but one thing you haven't, and probably never will, change about yourself, is that you can't stand it if everyone around ya doesn't either love or fear you."
"Why not both?" he quickly cut in with a smile, but only half-joking.
Beth rolled her eyes, "Point is, you care very much about everyone else. Their lives, maybe not so much, but their opinions? You care a whole heck of a lot what they think of you."
"Is that really what you think of me?" he got quiet, and serious, again.
Beth paused a moment to give the question the thinking it deserved. "I think what I always thought of you. You're a decent person doin' the best ya can." She took a breath and then added with a grin of her own, "But you're never gonna be the marryin' type so long as you're married to that bat and everything she stands for."
Negan grinned in return, "That's a head-shrinking session for another time. I should go."
"Thought you came up here to talk."
"I did. But you're right, this is your space."
"You still gonna need to talk to me?"
"Got no one else I trust the way I trust you."
Beth nodded, "Well, you're already here. And you ain't interruptin' my day off tomorrow. And judgin' by the number I washed," she gestured to the collection of brown and white eggs on the counter behind her, "I was already plannin' on invitin' you to join me for dinner anyhow. Or whatever it is you call it when you're eatin' close to midnight."
"You're making eggs for dinner?"
Beth leveled a withering look in his direction, "You'll eat 'em and you'll like 'em."
His grin returned to full-fledged Cheshire-cat status, "Yes, ma'am," he saluted as she turned and busied herself with heating the stove and reaching for a ceramic jar of saved bacon grease she kept on the counter.
"No, come on now, if we're going to have eggs for dinner, we should at least have some real bacon with it," Negan reached the fridge before Beth could stop him from seeing its nearly-bare status. She pushed past him and closed the appliance door.
"Bacon grease has plenty of flavor. And as late as it is, this is more of a midnight snack than a full-on dinner anyhow."
Negan ignored her and pressed on, "I'm guessing that if I poked around in those cabinets – "
" – that you'd lose a few fingers? 'Cause that's what I'd imagine happenin'," Beth warned. "And don't go slammin' things or stompin' around either. If you make this bread dough fall, you'll have one very upset seven-year-old that no amount of grinnin' will make feel better."
"So that's a yes to your pantry being as empty as your fridge. Making this pretty much the last loaf of bread you'll be baking for a while, given the potential crop shortage."
"Probably," Beth acknowledged. "But sometimes things are even more special because you might never have them again." She turned back to the stove, practiced movements getting eggs cracked and sizzling in the pan in fluid motions as Negan mused.
"You should be making more points, not only as a doctor, everyone knows you basically run that hospital wing. Literally life and death, plus inventory, all those medicines you grow and prep, the old folks, keeping track of everyone's day-to-day health, no one else has that kind of responsibility hanging over their shoulders. Upping your pay – "
"Is not the answer. We just talked about this, you can't be breakin' your own rules or playin' favorites. My job is just as important as everybody else's, and I make what's fair, just like everybody else." She turned around, spatula in hand, "And the next man who tells me I need to be acceptin' his help 'cause I can't look after me and mine is gonna end up bein' tossed off that sixth-floor fire escape."
"Yes, ma'am," after a beat, "Well, at least you set the example for all the potential thieves in this place."
"Happy to help," she retorted with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "Now, are you ever gonna get to what you actually came up here for, or are we gonna keep dancin' around it 'til the sun comes up? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I really need some sleep tonight."
Negan nodded to himself and settled in one of the hardback chairs at her kitchen table after fetching two glasses of water and retrieving Lucille; having her in his hands generally calmed his thoughts, and he needed to be clear-headed for this.
Without turning as she dished up the fried eggs onto two plates, Beth warned, "If that darned bat so much as puts one scratch on my good table, I'm'a cut all the barbs off and replace 'em with blinkin' Christmas lights."
Without a word, Negan wisely braced Lucille between his knees as Beth served their midnight snack and joined him at the table.
"So," Beth started, "what do ya need from me that's so darned important?"
"Help. Favors. Advice. For you to be my own personal, much better looking, Jiminy Cricket."
"I do all that already. Which brings me back to my original complaint, why here?"
Negan was fully serious as he leaned in, "I really can't risk anyone else overhearing. If I'm right, you and I could both get burned."
Sasha threw the covers aside in frustration and plodded back downstairs. Clearly, when it came to calling it a night, Abraham's idea of "in a minute" was not the same as hers.
She found him at the kitchen table, standing over a map with an intense look on his face. As she got closer, she could see it was different from the map their group used to plot out familiar locations. This one was in much better shape, and, though it was marked with the same places as the other one, this map also had additional marks penciled in as well.
"I doubled back to Eric's after Rick finished ripping me a new one, got him to pull out his old lobbying records and show me where those geothermal plant sites were," Abraham didn't bother looking up from his work. "And here's about as close as I can figure from where we got stopped by that group of Saviors back when we were trying to move the herd from the quarry. Remember them?"
Sasha nodded, "First time we heard the name 'Negan'."
"Didn't think much of 'em at the time. 'Specially after Daryl wiped the sons of bitches out with that RPG. Just another band of marauders, looking to make a quick score."
She closed the distance between them and put her hands on his arm and shoulder, "Well, we hadn't met Jesus yet. Didn't know about Hilltop or any of it."
Abraham nodded, "I'm figuring they had to come from somewhere close to that spot, either another out of an outpost we don't know about, or maybe his main compound. See, it's not that far from these three," he gestured to several locations of either finished or proposed geothermal factory sites.
"So why not mark all this on the other map? We keeping secrets from our already-secret group?" Sasha kept her tone lightly teasing, but inside she was growing deeply concerned. Their relationship might be relatively new, but her feelings for him were strong. And she didn't want to lose him to a stupid, reckless suicide mission of all things.
"Can't hurt to have a back-up," his excuse fell flat even to her trusting mindset. And it must have shown in her eyes when he glanced at her, because he backpeddled, "Rick wants to wait, see if Negan comes through with proof of life for Maggie in the next few weeks. I said I'd give him that."
"So what's all this, then?"
"Boy Scout's motto, darlin'. Just being prepared."
Beth was young, a lot younger than most people around the Sanctuary and its outposts assumed, but she had grown up faster than most. She matched Negan's serious tone, "What's goin' on?"
"I need to know exactly what Daryl and Aaron have told you about Hilltop, the outpost, all of it."
"Why do you need to know? And why not ask them yourself?"
"They'll be honest, more open with you."
"Still doesn't answer why you need to know." Beth dropped an ultimatum, "You're sittin' at my table, eatin' my food, and askin' for my help. Be completely honest and bring me in all the way, or don't bother."
Negan did her the respect of not hesitating, "I, no, we need to know if Alexandria found the satellite outpost on their own or if Hilltop showed it to them."
Beth's brow furrowed as she recalled the conversation, "The way Daryl described it, it sounded like Hilltop suggested the outpost. Said you'd be there, and the only way they'd share food is if you were gone and they didn't have us comin' to take from 'em anymore. I didn't ask outright who found the outpost first. Either way, I meant what I said at the meetin' tonight, none of this would have happened if it weren't for Hilltop tryin' to get out of what they done instead of just ownin' up and livin' by the rules. Does it really matter which group saw the satellite station first?"
"It does," Negan replied gravely, "because Hilltop shouldn't have known it existed. They don't venture out, never have. And we stopped sharing outpost locations with them the day they fucked us over. But even if they've somehow gotten adventurous and started exploring on their own, they should've had no reason to connect that relay station to us."
"Unless a Savior told them," Beth finished following his line of logic. "You think there's a traitor, here. One of us went to Hilltop and told them about the satellite station, knowing they weren't well-armed enough to stop a major attack, and said you'd be there, and then Hilltop pointed it out to Alexandria."
"Or they knew I wouldn't be there and sent Rick and company in their direction knowing they wouldn't hit their target but would seriously piss me off."
"You think it was Simon?" Beth posited.
"Maybe. Hope not, kinda fond of the fucker," Negan absently scraped his fork across his plate, drawing aimless designs in the remaining egg yolk, "Thought's definitely crossed my mind. He's in the best position. But there are others. Other outpost leaders close to Hilltop. Might not even be someone in charge of anything. Fact is, all those changes I made, made things better for a lot of people. But not everyone. Some folks, those 'favorites' you keep harping on, they lost a lot of perks along the way. And it looks like some of them haven't adjusted as well as I'd thought. Couple of years on, they're getting a bit nostalgic for the old way of doing things. And now they're looking for a change in leadership to make that happen."
"I ain't sayin' you're wrong, someone from here bein' behind this makes more sense to me than Gregory just up and deciding one day to grow a spine and try actual leadin' for once," Beth was still a bit skeptical. "But if they're trying to kill ya, they got a funny way of going about it. Get Hilltop to get Alexandria to attack an outpost you're almost never at?"
Negan grinned wryly, "You weren't a fan of The Dark Knight, were you? Shame, fucking brilliant masterpiece of a movie. You can't just kill the hero. You have to kill the idea of him first, bring him down to your level. That way, when you do get around to killing him, the people don't fight you on it. You said it yourself, I work very hard to make sure that everyone either loves or fears me. And around here, it's more love than fear. Someone comes around and puts a knife in my back, literal or otherwise, and the people who love me are going to be pissed. But if folks are dying on my watch, and it looks like I can't get a handle on it, those same people are going to start looking for a leader who will do whatever it takes to make them feel safe."
"Might not even be plannin' to kill you if they think they can get you to change your ways, go back to how things were before. Or get you to step down and let someone else be in charge."
Negan snorted derisively, "You really see me letting someone else take what's mine? This place was a shell of a shithole, but I saw what it could be. I built it from the ground up, might not have been my hands doing all the heavy lifting, but it was my idea that got us here. No fucking way I'm going to stand back and let someone steal it out from under me."
"So you'll go back to the way things were," Beth assumed with a heavy heart.
"No."
She glanced up from her empty plate to meet his intense gaze.
"Turns out you were right. What I had going here at first was no way to keep things going. Damned if that realization doesn't grate my nerves from time to time. But no, the way things are now is the way they ought to be, for the most part. If someone's trying to take that away, it's going to take more than me to stop them."
"What do you need me to do?"
"First off, I could be off-base here. Alexandria could be every bit as bad as everyone downstairs thinks they are. After all, two and a half years is a long time, they lived a very different life from you. I'm working on Rick, warming him up to have some critical conversations. But I need you keeping an ear out here, need you to push Daryl and Aaron so we have a better idea of what really went down. Did you mean what you said tonight, are you Negan?"
Beth drew a breath, "I love my family. I ain't come all this way just to give up on 'em, but I ain't built all I have here just to watch someone tear it down. It ain't about sides for me, I want us all workin' and makin' it together and I think we can. However much the world out there changed them, I just can't see Maggie, Glenn, and all the rest becomin' monsters. Somethin' pushed them, and whether it's just Hilltop or somethin' more, I want it gone, and I ain't afraid to do my part."
"I said it before and I'll say it again, I love your optimism. We could all use a healthy dose of it, but you need a dose of reality, too. People have been looking out for #1 since the caveman days, or Adam and Eve munching on that apple, depending on your worldview. You saw that tonight with our resident thief. It was never about the shoes, it was bout having the best, about yours being better than what everyone else's. And that's the way of it everywhere. I'm not giving up what's mine, not to Hilltop, not to Alexandria, not to some jumped-up traitor who's stupid enough to think he can challenge me in my own backyard."
"By that way of thinkin', how can you trust that I ain't just out to get what's mine no matter what it costs you?" Beth challenged.
"Actually, I'm trusting that you are. It's just that what you want and what I want go hand in hand. You said it yourself, you want your family safe, you want everyone getting along, but mostly, you want to matter. Now, I don't know why you didn't feel like you counted for something before you came here or even now, when anyone with two brain cells left to rub together can tell you're one of the most important people here, that the Saviors don't work without you. That's probably a conversation best had with several glasses of your choice of alcohol. But you can have all the things you want with me in charge. And you're not guaranteed any of it if I'm not. I'm not a good man, Beth, I know that. Decent, maybe, if you say so. But not good. Definitely not above bargaining, wheelin' and dealin' under the table to get what I need. And what I need is the one person I'm certain isn't trying to fuck me over to be willing to fuck over anyone else in my path so I can nip this shit in the bud. I need you using all your friendly smiles and sweet bedside manner to keep everyone trusting you so they'll share all their dirty secrets with you, and then I need you sharing them with me. Even if it means that you're putting someone you've made friends with on the business end of Lucille. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. I know it goes against your nature, being the genuinely trusting and glass-half-full person that you are. But do this for me, help me keep what's mine, and I'll give you whatever you want."
"Moonshine."
"Beg pardon?"
Beth explained, "You asked about my choice of alcohol. I do my best confessing over moonshine. First drink I ever had. First time I knew I felt somethin' more than just knowin' and likin' a person for Daryl was sittin' on a back porch talkin' over Georgia moonshine."
Negan chuckled, "Well, aren't you just full of surprises, Beth Dixon."
Beth got serious again, "I'll help you. Already said I would, you didn't have go on speechifyin'. But I'm kinda glad you did, lost sleepin' time aside. Took you more than two years to let what I said after you proposin' really sink in, but you have. So think of this as the next big step towards you bein' a decent human being. I'm gonna keep your secrets and I'm gonna help you, and I ain't gonna ask for anything in return, even though you've left all kinds of special favors wide open. I'm gonna help you because it's what's best for everyone. 'Cause I want you to see that not everyone is out for #1 and that good things can come your way without you knocking everyone down to get them first."
"If it makes you feel better to treat this like some kind of grand social experiment, you go right on ahead. Just don't forget what's at stake. Now, there is one more, teenie-tiny little favor I need from you. I need to borrow Daryl."
"I can't tell you what to do with your prisoner," Beth responded quietly.
"I really do appreciate how hard it is for you," Negan recognized. "Honestly, with someone as truly amazing as you waiting in the wings, it never dawned on me that Daryl would choose his loyalty to Rick Grimes over even a snowflake's chance in Hell of getting to be with you."
"And like I told you back then, you don't know Daryl like I do. It never dawned on me that he'd choose any other way. He's always put everyone else's needs above his own. He already works for you sunup to sundown. What else do you need him for that you think you gotta ask me about it?"
"A call came over the radio from the Lykins farm. All this shit weather has put them behind, done some damage to their livestock fencing. With Nicole preggers and their oldest gone to Monticello to help them improve their food storage techniques, they need some extra help."
"And you're not talking about a day trip," Beth finally surmised.
"A week, tops. They've got some friends coming in from Archer's Point but I want us doing our fair share, given all we get from trading with them."
Beth nodded decisively, "Well, then, Daryl should definitely go work at Caiman and Nicole's farm. And the kids and I will go with him."
"Now, come on, that's not what I meant and you know it," Negan leaned back from the table, balancing the chair on the back two legs.
Beth raised an eyebrow, "So, when you asked me for a favor, what you wanted was for me to tell you it's okay to break your promise to me? You know, the one where you, being the 'man of your word' that you are swore, not two weeks ago, that I'd get to see Daryl every day?"
"This is a special circumstance. And it's only for a few days. And he'll probably enjoy himself, getting away from everyone staring and pointing fingers. You know Nicole's going to mother the shit out of him even with Dwight keeping an eye on things."
"Oh, Dwight's going too, this just gets better and better," Beth grumbled, her frown deepening.
"I don't know what kind of bee crawled up your butt when it comes to Dwighty-boy…" Negan mused.
"What, because he struts around like darned peacock, takin' pleasure in shoving Daryl down in the dirt any chance he gets, wearin' my angel wings on his back while he does it? Seein' as how I ain't ever treated him anything less than civil, I don't see how it's any business of yours if I decide not to like him. And don't go focusin' on anything other than the fact that you are sittin' here trying to get my permission to break your word and have me be okay with it."
She paused for a moment to get her emotions in check before continuing calmly, "The way I see it, the answer is simple. Daryl and I both go to the Lykins farm, and while he's working on whatever it is they need, I can be checking on Nicole and everyone else, not to mention all the farm animals. I was gonna have to go out there in the next month or so, so this works out for everyone. And unless you can give me an amazing reason why not, that's what we're gonna do."
Negan considered for a moment before finally responding, "I don't know if all we're dealing with is going to come down to a fight or not, but if it does, heaven help the idiot who tries to stand up to you."
Tim groggily fumbled under his pillow until he found the wind-up alarm clock and sleepily managed to shut it off. He'd stayed awake for a while after Mr. Negan had left last night, thinking about what he'd overheard and, mostly, how sad his Mom was. Ever since even before she'd said she'd be their Mom, Beth had told him and Sunni stories about Daryl Dixon, how they had become friends and how much he had taught her and (even though she never exactly said the words) how much she missed him. When she'd sat them down one night a couple of months ago and said that he'd been found, Tim thought she'd be really happy. But she wasn't – it was complicated, she had said, and things might get difficult for a while, but they were family and it was all going to work out. At the time, Tim hadn't worried over it too much – Mom said it was going to be fine, so it was. And anyway, he was turning ten and changing classes and could finally start working on his count (as if his Mom hadn't already taught him how to put down walkers ages ago!), and there were books to read and a new class with new friends to make and shopping and chores and twins to help potty-train...
Except it wasn't fine. Daryl was there now, but he wasn't, not really. And his Mom was busier and sadder and more worried than ever. Daryl was supposed to fix all that. Finding Daryl Dixon was supposed to make things better, not worse. And now Mr. Negan was asking his Mom for even more, helping with his secrets. And since he'd been eavesdropping and wasn't supposed to even know about it, Tim wasn't sure how, or if, he could help.
But he had figured there was one thing he could do. So he got up extra-early today. Not too much, just a few minutes. But enough that, by the time he got dressed, ran a brush through his wavy hair to tame the fuzziness after a night of tossing and turning, grabbed his Mom's bow and quiver for practice with Daryl, and slipped past his Mom, still sleeping soundly on her bed in the front room of their apartment, he was able to make it down to the hallway near Daryl's cell before Dwight came to unlock the door and give Daryl his orders for the day.
Tim heard Dwight coming before he saw him, heavy boots thudding on concrete. Tim was glad his Mom had taught him, as Daryl had taught her, how to pick up his feet so he could move noiselessly on any ground. When Dwight came around the corner, one hand scrubbing the sleep from his face and an unlit cigarette in the other, Tim took a deep breath to steady his nerves before stepping forward.
"Mr. Anders?" he asked softly, both because even a low murmur seemed to echo off the cinder block walls in the early morning silence and because, even though he knew perfectly well that the scars on Dwight's face weren't anything to be afraid of, they, and the man bearing them, were still plenty intimidating.
Dwight stopped short, clearly startled. "The hell are you doing here, kid?"
"I want to buy that vest from you," Tim pointed to Daryl's leather vest with the fraying angel wings that Dwight had claimed for himself.
Dwight scoffed, "It ain't for sale, now get lost." He started to push past the boy.
But if it were," Tim persisted, "How much would you charge for it?"
Dwight turned, the scarred flesh on his face shiny in the flickering florescent lighting, "You want it, kid? 1000 points," he sneered.
Tim did enough shopping with his Mom to know that there was nothing in all the Sanctuary, at least outside the armory, that cost even half that much. But instead of calling Dwight out on his unreasonable rate, he kept his voice calm and simply pointed out, "It's got a hole in it," gesturing with the bow to the bullet hole that Dwight himself had put in the vest shooting Daryl.
Dwight glared for a second before returning, "Alright, fine. 900 points. Now scram. I got better things to do."
Tim wisely stepped aside and let Dwight pass before turning to leave by another exit so he could meet up with Daryl to walk the fences. 900 points – there was only one way to have that many points at once, but Tim was okay with not keeping his coming-of-age earnings for himself. He'd be fine if he never touched a gun again, not after… But his Mom did everything – saved him and Sunni, taught them how to hunt and hide and move in the woods where no one could find them, how to make it when no one else would think they could. And she took care of them, gave them a home and, even though she never said anything about it, Tim knew she sometimes worked extra shifts so they'd all have what they needed. She should get to be happy, and if Daryl wasn't going to be able to give it to her, then maybe Tim could at least give her this. His Mom could keep Mr. Negan's secrets – getting her wings back was going to be his.
So happy to be back and to get the momentum going on this story again! As always, reviews (kind or otherwise) are greatly appreciated!