The days passed slowly by, and apart from Carson's usual check-ups and a subdued Frankie coming in to ask an unresponsive Blake how she was and escort her carefully to the bathroom several times a day, the pair, Negan and Blake, stayed where they were.

The world seeming like it was blurring around them.

Negan had left the room only to use the dank bathroom down the hallway himself, washing his face in the icy cold water beneath the faucet to keep himself awake. He had nodded off just a couple of times, going days without sleep night, just staying sat in that rickety chair beside Blake's bed.

The blonde woman he loved so dearly had barely moved an inch and even when Frankie led her back into bed, her gorgeous green eyes seemed blank, not reaching Negan's and merely remaining fixed to the floor until she lay back beneath the sheets, turning away from him once more.

And despite Negan trying again and again to talk to her, she just stayed sill. Not saying a word to the dark-haired Saviour in return.

Shit.

This was killing him. Little by little.

More than a lack of sleep or lack of appetite ever would.

To not have her even utter single word to him or anyone else in days...

Was this shock? Trauma? Or something else completely?

Carson had tried as much as he could to get her to eat something, telling her that she needed to get her strength back after the blood loss she had suffered, but Blake ignored him….her eyes staying fixed to that wall.

And it was on the third day, that a worried-looking Carson had nodded to Negan to follow him out into the hallway.

Negan had wavered at first before pulling his aching bones from the chair and following the strawberry-blonde doctor out into the gloomy corridor and pulling the door closed behind him.

And here Carson had turned to him, dragging a hand over his tired-looking eyes.

"She needs to start eating and drinking something," he said starkly, shaking his head. "It's been three days and she needs to get some fluids back into her."

He looked at Negan who merely stared back, not quite knowing how to react in his tired state.

"If she doesn't I'm afraid I'm going to have to force feed her through an IV…" he said giving a shake of his head. "A-And I don't want to do that."

Carson gazed at Negan poignantly. But Negan just gave a deep frown, shaking his own dark head at the doctor.

What the fuck did expect him to do?

"S-She won't even fuckin' look at me, Doc," he croaked out, in voice that sounded a world away from his usual deep and playful tone.

Shit, he didn't know how much longer he could cope with this.

Why the hell wasnt she talking to him? Or looking at him?

Did she blame him? Was that it?

"Y-You've got to give her time.." said Carson, but Negan cut across him suddenly, sounding frustrated.

"It's been three fuckin' days!" he said in a raised voice into the doctor's pale face before blinking and staking a step backwards, as though startled at his own anger.

He faltered, his eyes shifting away.

"She doesn't even cry anymore...she just lies there...hell, I don't know what I can fuckin' do," he said running hand down his painfully tired face. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

He looked up, expecting Carson to have an answer for him, but instead the strawberry blond man just looked apologetically back at him.

"Blake's been through a huge trauma, and so have you," he said, reaching out and placing his hand to Negan's upper arm, the first human contact the leader of the Saviours had felt felt in days. "People cope with things differently. But she needs you."

At this Negan stared hard at Carson for the longest of moments, before placing a tanned hand over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He felt like he needed to cry. Or to kill somebody. Which, he wasnt so sure.

But without another word, Negan turned away, taking the doctors words with him and heading back into the bleak medical room.

It was mid-morning and a stark grey light was the only thing that lit the small space, a shaft of cold paleness illuminating the bed tucked into the corner of the room.

Negan sucked in a deep breath, before slowly moving around to said-bed, making towards the nightstand, where a plate of strawberries, fresh from the garden, sat, beside a glass of lukewarm juice.

From here, he could see that Blake's face looked pale and gaunt, and deep purple bags sat underneath her eyes. He could see her chest rising and falling gently, but she didn't look up at him as he approached her...not acknowledging him at all, just lying there, staring at that blank wall dead ahead of her.

Negan, clenched his jaws together, coming to stand in the space between her and the wall, but even then, her eyes didn't seem to shift from that spot.

Every few seconds he could see her blinking those big green eyes of hers….but it was like she was a ghost now. Not really there. So very far away.

"Peaches…" he tried, a lump fixing itself into the back of his throat. "You're gonna need to eat something'."

But despite his words, so close to her now, she still didn't look at him.

"Darlin'..." he attempted again, his voice almost pleading with her now.

But still nothing.

Negan shifted his jaw from side to side, a pain and a frustration suddenly shooting through him.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

The dark-haired man could feel himself getting angry and exasperated wiith evry passing word that left his lips.

Shit. She wasn't the only one who had lost that baby.

It had been his kid too.

And Negan hadn't even had the chance to properly grieve, here alone with no-one but a silent Balke giving him nothing in return.

That frown that was still sat between his eyebrows deepened now.

He felt angry. Angry at everything.

At her, at Carson, at the person that had shot that gun.

Because, fuck, that bullet had never been fired, maybe she'd have been ok. Maybe their baby would have been ok.

All sorts of desperate thoughts filled Negan's head.

The what ifs…

The maybe's…

Shit. Someone needed to pay.

He didn't care who now. It didn't matter who.

And so, turning on his heel, Negan marched to the door on bare feet and hauled it open, face fixed, furious, leaving Blake behind.

The door itself clattered behind him loudly, swinging back on its hinges, but he didn't care.

As an anger, the likes of which he had not felt since he had torn off to Alexandria, filled is vision. And before he had realised what he was doing, or where he was really going, Negan had made it back up to his room for the first time in days.

The room was just how he had left it three nights ago, with the door still open, but he no longer cared, barging in a snatching up his jacket and boots from the foot of the bed and shoving them on.

But as Negan stood upright, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his heavy leather jacket, he caught sight of the open bathroom door, with the light still on.

He froze...a gulp trailing down his throat….knowing that just inside, on that tiled floor, would be a pool of ruby red blood...just how he had left it three nights prior.

How this had all started. How his world had crashed down around him.

Negan didn't want to see that again, grinding his teeth and huffing air from his nose.

And so, snatching his abandoned radio from his nightstand where he had left it, he pulled it to his lips. It fizzled into life almost instantly.

"Simon, Dwight, you there?" he barked, his voice sounding tense and low.

There was a long, stretched-out pause before Dwight answered. "Receiving you, Boss," came his voice over the static.

But Negan grimaced, he wanted revenage, someone to punish now, and he didn't particularly care who that was.

He had never gotten to the bottom of who was responsible for sending that bullet Blake's fucking way. But all Negan knew now, was that he was willing to go to every single of of those fucking camps and burn them all to the ground, leaving no survivors.

If that was what it was gonna take to make him feel something again.

"I'm gonna need my best men locked and loaded and out by the goddamn trucks in ten fuckig minutes, you got that, D?" he growled, his lips curling as he muttered into the black device.

There was another lengthy pause before Dwight spoke again.

"Understood," he replied sounding perhaps a little unsure now.

But Simon immediately answered too. "Copy that," uttered his right-hand man obediently.

Negan lowered the radio for a moment in thought, before lifting it to his mouth once more, his eyes flashing over to the bathroom.

"Oh an' send one of those fuckin' cock-suckin' workers up here to clean my fuckin' bathroom floor," he snarled. "I don't want to see any of that shit left here when I'm back, we clear?"

But Negan didn't even bother to wait for an answer, throwing the radio down onto the bed carelessly, before he moved over to the door.

A fury and anger filled his veins.

His own kid was gone because of someone.

And right now Blake might as well be gone too.

Negan felt bitter and angry.

At Blake?

At himself?

Or at someone else?

He wasn't so sure now, as he stopped by the door, his shaking hand reaching for Lucille who was sat there waiting for him like an old friend.

But his tanned digits hovered over the handle for a lengthy few seconds, hs mind flitting to his deceased wife suddenly. Wondering what Lucille would think about all this? About him walking out on Blake right now?

But Negan angrily shoved these thoughts away, tugging the door open and heading once again back out into the hallway.

His mind seemed to be buzzing right now.

He was exhausted, running on nothing but fury and pain and sadness and grief…

But if that was enough to keep his legs moving and Lucille swinging, then that was good enough for him.

Then he could die happy, knowing that the person responsible for all this, was dead and gone.

That was enough, wasn't it?

Negan breathed hard and made for the staircase, taking the steps down two at a time, his hand clenching ahold of the railing at his side, feeling his legs shaking beath him.

This was anger, right? Just anger?

Or was this something much more? The most painful kind of mourning for the baby he had never realised he had wanted so much.

Lucille had never been able to give him a child, and now Blake hadn't been able to either.

Maybe this was on him. Maybe he was the problem.

These thoughts scarred his heart now, as he made it to the bottom of the staircase, face set and eyes black, rounding the corner swiftly, making to head out to the lot through the double doors at the far end of the hallway.

But he stopped suddenly in his tracks….finding four people baring his way.

For all stood there, shoulder to shoulder, as though they had been expecting him to come this way, were Tanya, Michelle, Frankie and Layla.

His ex-wives, all of them bar Amber, stood here now, faces fixed firmly.

Had they heard his radio call?

No matter. He didn't give a shit what any of them thought now anyway.

"Move," he growled angrily, scowling at all of them.

They looked a far cry from the women he had once slept with on a regular basis. Out of their usual garb of short black dresses. Instead they stood before him now, looking like far stronger woman that they once had, in jeans and tank tops and shirts rolled up at the elbows.

But despite Negan's order, the women all stood firm. All as unmoving as Blake in that bed.

Beneath his breath Negan gave a dark hiss.

"Get the fuck out of my way, girls," he snarled.

But Tanya raised her eyebrows staring at him incredulously.

"Or what?" she replied in a vicious tone. "You gonna kill us? Beat us half to death with that thing?"

She nodded her head towards Lucille gripped tightly between Negan's fingers.

The insolence in her voice made Negan seethe with anger, visibly furious now.

But still the women stood firm, blocking his way to the lots outside.

Fucking shit, what was with these fucking girls? Why the fuck were they to try and stop him?

Could Negan kill them?

At his side he felt his grip tighten around the barbed-wire-covered baseball bat.

But he relented a little, gazing into Tanya 's brown eyes.

All four women looked determined not to let him by.

But why? Why did they care if he went out and killed people? Or got killed himself?

These women obviously hated him.

Hell, they probably always had.

But suddenly Frankie stepped forwards, her eyes full of a sadness he had seen several times in her over the last few days.

"Blake needs you, Negan," she said, a sort-of pleading in her voice.

And Negan felt his mouth go dry at her words.

He blinked, his chest still rising and falling hard.

Michelle nodded, her hand gripping Frankie's gently.

"Yeah," she agreed in a quiet voice, staring into Negan's steely eyes. "You go now, and you might never get her back."

Negan stopped, relinquishing his grip on his bat a little, as a hard lump began to form in his throat.

A swirling feeling bubbled up inside his stomach making him want to vomit. But he stood tall, his chin dipped low. His eyes stilling on these four women...

These women who had meant so little to him. Who despised him. Who he had used and blackmailed. Who were doing this now not for him…...but for Blake instead.

And Negan knew why.

He could see it everywhere.

Every day since she had come here.

He had seen the love that these women had for her... that the workers and the lieutenants, old and young, had for her...

She was their queen and they adored every inch of her.

And he knew that not one of them would stand by and let him hurt her. Directly or indirectly as he was doing right now.

And so, dragging his eyes from the wives, unable to take their stares any longer, Negan turned on his heel and marched away, defeated.

But instead of going back in the direction of the medical room on the north side of the Sanctuary, Negan headed upstairs once again, taking the long, trudging walk, back up to his room. Their room.

But, reaching his hallway he almost barreled into a lone worker emerging through the oak panelled doors. A grey-haired older woman in yellow dishwashing gloves, carrying a mop and bucket.

Negan opened his mouth quickly, ready to shout at them for getting in his fucking way, but he faltered a little, staring down into the woman's bright blue eyes, and then, into the soapy water now tinged pink with what he only guessed was Blake's blood.

Shit.

What was he fucking doing?

The woman looked terrified and got ready to stammer an earnest apology to the dark-haired Saviour. But Negan scrunched up his long and frowning face from a long moment, before stepping aside and allowing the lady to pass wordlessly.

He could hear his own shallow breathing in his ears as she slid gratefully by him and disappeared without a sound, leaving Negan alone once again with only the baseball bat in his hand for company.

The quietness was stark and eerie. And Negan walked into his room, noting at once, how much of Blake lingered here these days.

Her clothes littered his leather couches, her sweet scent clung to the air…

And it was then that Negan realised how much he missed her, despite her only being two floors down.

Shit, she was his entire fucking world, and it killed him to think that she was hurting as much as he was right now.

For now, as the anger dissipated from him, Negan was left with just a crushing pain that overwhelmed him.

Dropping Lucille back down to her position by the door once again, Negan closed the wooden door behind him, shutting out the world.

And with that, he began to peel the layer of days-old clothes from him, heading slowly into the bathroom.

It smelled like bleach in here, which stung his nostrils and his eyes, along with the stark white light that seemed to buzz from the spotlights above.

Had vaguely remembered that he had never gotten around to taking that shower three long nights ago, and so, unbuckling his belt and allowing his pants to drop onto the now-clean, tiled floor, Negan reached into the shower, turning on the faucet.

The water felt warm, and stripped of every single garment of clothing, the dark-haired man stepped under the stream of water, greatful of the scalding heat against his aching bones.

And it was here, drowned out by the sound of the water falling all around him, that Negan finally broke down, letting his chin drop to his collarbone, as a loud sob escaped his lips….followed by another and another.

And with his head hung beneath the water, Negan washed away the grief and the pain that he had so desperately needed to let out for days…

...allowing himself to finally begin to mourn.

So since posting the last few chapters I have had a lot of people PM me and comment saying that they will no longer be carrying on with my story. I am very sorry to hear that, although I am sad to think I have lost you because of my documenting Negan and Blake's heartbreak. It's a heartbreak that a lot of families go through everyday and as much as I understand that fanfic is about escapism and fluff, I try to make this fic as realistic as it can be within a zombie apocalypse anyway, and want to convey just what emotions an event such as this can cause a strong couple like these two to go through. It's a shame you will not be sticking with me and I'm really sad to see any of my lovely readers go. But like I've said, the storm always passes and won't last forever. And to all my readers who are reading on with me, don't worry, you'll get Negan and Blake back, I promise you. Just stick with me and I'll do right by them, I promise you.

Thanks to you all for reading.

Thank you to Jam86, Nicole, LJH, CLTex, Guest, Daryl's Lady, JasminJW and BlueBloodsSVU Order for commenting on the last chapter.

Please review.