Blake rolled her eyes, glancing up at the clock.

It was 9.36 at night and Blake had been sat here, on a smart grey couch inside Rick's house for the past twenty minutes, her elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, resting her head against her hand tiredly.

"Look I've told you..." she sighed. "They kept me in a cell most of the time. I didn't see anything."

It was a blatant lie. But Blake wasn't quite ready to sell Negan out just yet…a dull ache tugging at her stomach, as her mind once again flickered to him.

Him and the rest of the Saviours had probably just about made it back the Sanctuary by now. Maybe Negan had gone in to see his wives, taken one of them by the hand and pulled them toward his bedroom. Or maybe he was sleeping alone tonight. Either way, Blake felt a bitter sting of pain and jealously as she thought on the dark-haired leader of the Saviours.

Rick and Michonne, who were now sitting on a couch opposite hers, perching on the edge of their seat, hands cupped between their knees, glanced at each other. A gesture which Blake, of course, caught.

They didn't believe her, that was obvious, but Blake would play along if that's what it took.

Why would she reveal the extent of her relationship with Negan now? It was over anyway before it had even begun.

She looked up lazily, to see Tara stood leaning up against a wall, beside a pacing Rosita, in a cap pulled down over her scowling face.

"And how did you escape?" the latter snapped, suddenly turning towards Blake and stopping in her tracks.

But Blake just gave a sigh, her eyes drifting uninterestedly down to her jeans.

"I didn't. They let me go," she said matter-of-factly, as Rick scooted forward even further in his seat, staring up at her.

"Look I understand that this is hard for you," he said in that raspy sort-of drawl of his, peering up at her. "I know that they probably did a lot of horrible things to you back there. But it's ok. You're safe now. And whatever you can tell us about Negan; about the Saviours….it'll help us."

But Blake looked up at him, crossing her legs and raising eyebrow in his direction.

"What makes you think I know anything?" she said in a slow incredulous tone. But before she could utter another word Michonne cut in.

"Blake, if you tell us what you know, we can go back there….we can try and get David out….and Eugene too…." said the black woman with a hint of concern in her eyes.

But Blake's green eyes suddenly shot towards Michonne, a frown twitching its way between her brows.

"David's dead," she uttered coldly. "And Eugene? Well, Eugene's happy there. In fact, he doesn't want to leave."

She knew that this would rile up the people sat in front of her, and she was right. For in an instant all the figures before her, glanced at one another, as though a little unsure of what to do with all that information.

And it was a moment before Rick, shook his head.

"I'm sorry about David," he said looking down at the floor. "He was a good guy-"

"No he wasn't," said Blake suddenly, starkly and abruptly cutting across Rick.

Everyone right at that moment was staring at her, and Blake could feel her heart pounding like a drumbeat in her chest, a heat rising in her cheeks but she didn't care…

"He hit me, he abused me….called me things you wouldn't even call a dog…" she said with an angry snarl, her voice raising slightly. "…and no one here even noticed. So, no, you're wrong Rick. He wasn't a 'good guy'. He was never a good guy."

She paused, taking a pained gulp and staring down at the coffee table between them, as everyone fell instantly silent contemplating Blake's words.

From across the room, Tara stepped forward suddenly, looking devastated.

She, Blake, Rosita and David had all enjoyed dinner together on the night before they had been taken to the Sanctuary by Simon and the Saviours. And obviously, by the look upon her face, she had never suspected a thing.

"I'm so sorry…" Tara said with wide, sad eyes. "...I-I had no idea…"

But Blake closed her own green orbs for a long moment, not looking at Tara, but instead giving a tired sigh.

"Listen…." she said finally, staring up at Rick. "I'm exhausted. And I just want to go back to my house and sleep, ok?"

At this Rick glanced at Michonne before looking hurriedly back at Blake.

"Fine," he said blinking hard. "But are you sure there isn't anything you can tell us about Negan…any weaknesses he might have?"

And with that Blake gave the smallest of gulps as her green eyes met with his.

A day or so ago she would have said her.

That Blake herself was his weakness.

She felt like crying now, but held it together. For she had to.

"I didn't really see him," she lied again, her gaze suddenly flickering down to her lap.

Could they tell that she was lying to them? Blake hoped not.

For right now she had the same feeling of hopelessness as she had had on her first couple of days at the Sanctuary. Back when David had promised Negan she had information to give to him.

But on this occasion however, there was a lot she could potentially feed back to Rick….she had got to know the Sanctuary pretty well. Got to know the routes the Saviours had used to get in and out of the Factory itself.

And on top of all that, she had known Negan….better than most people ever would.

She had felt his gentle, a calloused hand upon her cheek…felt his lips brush hers….felt the way his eyes had met with hers, with a look in them that had said so much more than words ever could…

But all that. That was gone now.

Everyone in the room stayed silent, before Rick suddenly gave a slow careful nod, rubbing his lips together for a moment.

"Tara, would you take Blake here back to her house?" he asked in a hollow-sounding voice, before staring up at Blake once more. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

And with that he gestured for her to leave.

Blake gave a small internal sigh of relief as she got to her feet heading over towards the front door with Tara.

But before she, or the dark-haired woman beside her, could head out onto the porch, Rosita suddenly spoke.

"Did Negan kill him?" she asked in a bitter tone, staring at Blake with a steely gaze and angry gritted teeth. "Did he kill David, like he killed Spencer?"

Blake looked up at Rosita, seeing the fury in her face, the frustration that lingered there, over the scar that Arat had left on her cheek via Negan's orders.

But Blake felt an anger of her own building inside her. Feeling defensive of the man who had saved her in so many more ways than David ever could have.

And so, pressing one hand to the handle of the door, she turned around and looked at the small group of figures, staring darkly back at them, her face remaining blank and passive.

"Negan didn't kill David," she suddenly uttered bluntly, blinking slowly in their direction, her voice emotionless. "I did."

And with that, Blake stepped back out into the warm night air, without even a backward glance towards Rick, Michonne or Rosita.

She let out a long sign as she walked down the porch steps, her shoulders slumping tiredly.

It had been a long day and Blake had been in no mood for a meeting when she had arrived back at Alexandria.

Rick had hugged her, but one swift look at Rosita later and he had gathered up Michonne and Tara and led Blake back to his house and begun the inquisition, of sorts.

For that's what it had felt like to Blake.

Did they even care that she was still alive? Had they even thought of her whereabouts over the past few weeks?

She doubted it.

But now Rick had a glint in his eyes, eager to get information from her that might help his cause, help him in finding more guns…in taking down the Saviours and Negan himself.

But Blake didn't want that to happen.

She might have left that place, but it had still felt like more of a home that here ever had. And currently still did too.

"Hey, wait up," called Tara, behind her, running down the steps towards her, two at a time.

Blake stopped in her tracks , taking in a deep breath and turning to her friend.

Tara immediately eyed the caramel-blonde woman suddenly , shaking her head. "I'm so sorry Blake, I had no idea about David, or what he was doing to you," she said sincerely.

But Blake just turned, beginning to walk slowly in the direction of her house. The house she hadn't seen in weeks.

"It's fine," she muttered in a quiet voice, as the two women fell into step, walking silently down the block together.

It was strange for Blake to be back here….out in the open without a factory looming high above them.

This life here felt almost unreal now. A stab at a false reality where people were trying to kid themselves that they could live a normal life here, as if the world hadn't gone to shit out there.

There was a brief moment where neither woman spoke, before Tara finally broke the awkward silence between them.

"You'll have the house to yourself now," uttered the dark-haired woman. "After you left, Sara and Jeff went over to stay with Bruce and the Andersons. And…uh….John…well, he died…got into a bit of trouble with a walker out there…"

Blake looked down sadly.

She had come to this place with John. She and David had been on the road with him for at least a year before they had arrived in Alexandria. He had been a little older than the pair of them and could always be relied on to make a meal out of anything.

Blake gave a shaky sigh, but nodded, unable to speak.

Had coming back here been a mistake?

She felt worse here than she had done all those hours ago back at the Sanctuary, after Mia had gone. Somehow being here made everything seem a lot clearer to her. And now it was far more obvious just how much she had lost today.

But it wasn't until they reached the steps of the front porch to Blake's tall and looming former house, did she finally turn to Tara, pursing her lips together, unsure of what to say.

Part of her desperately wanted to scream and tell her everything that had happened over these few weeks. But another, more sensible part of her knew she couldn't.

If Tara knew, then as righteous as her actions were, it wouldn't be long until Rick found out too. And then god knows what would happen…

So she would keep quiet. Play the game, if that was what it took….

"You can talk to me, y'know, about what happened back there," said Tara suddenly placing her gentle hand to Blake's shoulder caringly. "I'm a good listener."

But Blake peered up at her, parting her lips worriedly for a moment, feeling like she was going to cry…

Before instead she forced a small smile at the dark-haired woman, aching inside.

"Thanks…." she said nodding. "I'm just kinda tired tonight, y'know?"

It was the truth….Blake was exhausted, and in pain right now. And this time the pain had nothing to with any bruises….

"Of course," said Tara quickly, dropping her hand from Blake's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow ok? And if you need anything you know where I am."

Blake watched her go, as Tara swiftly crossed the road, heading over to her own warmly lit house, before turning and heading up the steps towards her own empty abode.

The white front door pushed open easily, and Blake reached for the light-switch, instantly illuminating the neat white interior of a hallway and living room.

Everything here was tidy and perfect, smelling like fresh lavender and floor polish.

Blake glanced up towards the staircase, but didn't venture upstairs, for she knew that up there, would be her unmade bed, that both she and David had last slept in, over three long weeks ago.

She would wash her sheets in the morning, but right now, with heavy eyes, Blake moved into the living room and dropped down wearily onto her large grey couch, identical to Rick's back at his home.

The caramel-blond woman dragged a hand down her face, feeling tears began to prick at her eyes as she kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs swiftly beneath her, and pressing her head into the sofa cushions…

What had she done?

It took Negan a while after his arrival back at the Sanctuary to make it up to his quarters.

He walked down the corridor, trudging tiredly, with his trusty barbed-wire covered baseball bat hanging limply from his hand.

Usually after being out there in the big wide world, Negan was celebrating a victory of some sort. Whether it be teaching another group a lesson, to looting somewhere, to killing walkers…..each thing making Negan feel alive…like all of this was worth it.

But tonight it felt like the opposite.

Tonight was not a victory.

Tonight was loss.

Although he had tried not to show that in front of his men.

Thy were all used to seeing Negan grinning fiendishly, ready to use Lucille on someone. But they were not used to seeing the dark-haired Saviour looking pissed-off and as downcast as he felt right now.

Negan had stopped outside for a bit, taken the long way back up to his room after exiting the truck, feeling Simon's eyes on him as he did so.

His right-hand man often knew what he was thinking…but Negan did not want him to see this right now.

The hurt that was coursing through him.

And so, Negan had made a joke at someone's expense, patting Si on the shoulder and walked slowly away.

That had hopefully convinced him that he was still a-ok. Like none of this had affected him.

But as Negan turned a corner, making to head down the long hallway towards his quarters, he noticed a warm, yellow glow, illuminating the far end of the long corridor.

Was there someone in his room?

Negan gave a dark, growling frown, as he gripped Lucille tightly in his gloved hand, not really minding a fight a right now.

If someone wanted to encroach on his space tonight he would be fucking ready for them.

And it took Negan less than ten seconds in all to close the gap between himself and his large doorway.

But as the tall dark-haired man turned the corner, jaw tensed and face set, ready to bring his baseball bat down onto the head of whoever was in there, to his surprise, sat on his leather couch in a black dress, was someone he certainly hadn't been expecting to see tonight.

"Now, Frankie," said Negan in a simpering tone, lowering Lucille slightly, feeling his shoulders un-tense a little as he laid eyes on her. "What the fuck are you doin' here? Did I fuckin' call for you?"

The red head merely gazed up at him simply, tilting her head.

He could tell she didn't want to be here, so why the fuck had she come?

He hadn't called for any of his wives in weeks. And none of them certainly called for him!

"Simon asked if I could come up here tonight to see you," she said giving a small, indifferent sniff. "He said he thought it might do you some good."

She took a breath, getting to her feet, her hands moving to the hem of her short black dress.

"You want to start now-?" she asked in a quiet voice.

But Negan, as much as he knew a good screw would let out a lot of his pent-up frustration right now, was angry, his eyes blackening darkly.

Ok, Frankie was hot…with her slender body, long legs and long red hair…but there was no spark there…

No teasing flirting…no hands trailing up his torso….no dirty words whispered into his ear…

She was not what he wanted right now.

But there was one person who was.

One person who was a least fifty miles away from him now…who only last night had been making out with him inside that bathroom over there.

Negan gave a scowling gulp….pointing Lucille at the door and lifting his chin.

"Just fuck off, Frankie, sweetheart" he said in a low, snarling tone. "I ain't in the fuckin' mood."

He saw Frankie lick her lips, dropping her hands to her sides and staring at him, narrowing her eyes slightly as she stared back at him.

"You let her go didn't you?" she said suddenly, tiling her red-head to the side and reading him.

It wasn't like Frankie to speak to him like this. Usually his wives reserved a certain level of respect for Negan, only speaking when they were spoken to….so this really was a turn up for the books.

But the dark-haired Saviour merely curled his top lip at her, keeping his mouth closed, not saying a word.

For she knew….

Maybe they all knew….

All come to the realisation just how much Blake had meant to him.

But Negan just gave a furious huff, marching over to the red-headed woman and grasping her upper arm firmly and pulling her towards the door.

"Go," he growled. "Before I change my fuckin' mind."

But Frankie's eyes searched his face, as she stumbled slightly in the hallway, turning back towards him, as he let go of her arm, and made to shut the door on her.

"You could have just made her your wife," she said suddenly, her hazel eyes, sad and wide. "But you didn't…."

And Negan, at once, knew what that meant…

Blake wasn't like the other women in his life…a quick fucking screw wasn't the only thing he wanted from her….

He closed his mouth and gave Frankie one last stern look, before closing the door abruptly in her face without another word.

Negan breathed for a second or two, furious…no, enraged….

And in the blink of an eye, Negan had let out a loud, audible roar of utter anger, and thrown his precious Lucille against the far wall…it hitting the plaster wall loudly before tumbling swiftly to the ground.

But Negan right now didn't care..

He didn't care about anything.

He merely hung his head suddenly, his chest rising and falling hard, as his tongue reached his back molars in utter irritation at own stupidly.

What the fuck had he done?

Hopefully there'll be reunion soon….

Thanks to Anna Katharyn, Hmc09, FriendsWithTheMonster, angelvoice15, JudithMosalii, alliesmiley2, Guest, Guest, Keward2592, Dollfacex94 and Shan1994.

I'm also posting this fic on tumblr with Negan gifs at the moment if that would interest any of you. My tumblr name is 'Negan and Blake'. Send me a message if you find me. :)

Please review!