Fairytales and Lullabies

by DoodlebugQT Writes

He tilted his head as he looked me up and down in consideration. "So what might a little girl like you be doing out here at night, alone, with no one around?" He grinned that shark-like smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. "Does your father know you're out here all by yourself?"

42. Red is Not My Color

Chapter 42
Red is Not My Color

Before leaving the infirmary, Negan took me aside in the hall and handed me a wrapped package.

"I found something that reminded me of you just the other day. A housewarming present, as it were. Just a little something to say welcome in a way."

I hated those words. "I don't want a housewarming present." I told him, fidgeting restlessly. I didn't want to play these games right now. The donation had drained me enough as it was and I just wanted to find somewhere empty and secure where I could curl up and drift for a while.

He frowned and I could tell he wasn't going to accept no as an answer. "Open the damn box, kid. If I went through the trouble to find it for you then you're damn well going to appreciate it."

For some reason, I pictured something grotesque inside; a hand, a foot, or part of a face, covered in bite marks. If it wasn't that then there was probably a bomb in it, or some other horrible trick inside that would explode right in my face. It seemed like something Negan would do for a laugh.

Or really, maybe I just wanted it to be something like that. I didn't enjoy the idea of Negan giving me something that was actually nice. I just wanted him to be a monster in every form of the word, so that it was easier to keep hating him.

As a precaution, I shook it carefully, listening for something that could give me a clue of what it was. There wasn't much of a rattle, like it was cushioned by something inside.

Then I caught sight of Negan's impatient face and knew I couldn't stall anymore. So, grudgingly, I pulled off the bow and leaned away as I slowly opened the lid. No explosion and nothing that smelled bad; so far so good. Pushing aside layers of tissue paper revealed bright red fabric.

I stared at it, confused. This had definitely not been what I was expecting.

"Well… take it out and try it on."

I did as I was told but as I unfolded it from the box I realized what it was right then and there; a bright red cloak, like my green one back home. Realization struck me then and there and I understood exactly why he had given me this thing.

His first words to me echoed in my head.

"Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood."

I was disgusted.

It cemented how he saw me and how he saw himself when associated with me.

Me: just an innocent little girl lost in the woods and him: a predator lurking about inside. Least he knew what he was but he had me pegged completely wrong.

I dropped it back in the box when I realized what it was.

"You're wrong about me!" I announced snapping my attention towards him.

"Oh really? How's that?"

"Don't be dumb!" I snapped. "I'm not wearing that! I'm not humoring that image for you!"

"Oh, you'll wear it." He growled straightening to his full height to tower over me just as he'd done in the forest those many months ago; just as he always did to intimidate anyone. My body shifted slightly, preparing to duck or dodge away if I saw him so much as twitch his fingers towards me. I could feel the anger of that statement but I wouldn't back down, not after all the bravado I'd just shuffled out. If I couldn't stand with what I said then I was worse than dumb… I was full of crap.

"I'm getting pretty fucking tired of this little routine." Just then his fist curled around the collar of my shirt and I felt my body being thrown to the side just to stop promptly when my back slammed against the wall. White flashes burst in my vision and my head spun with whiplash as I choked on the hold over me. Negan was talking again but it was hard to follow along when my ears were ringing.

"So, you're going to wear that cloak. You're going to stand at my side and be the Little Red Riding Hood to my Big Bad Wolf while I tear down straw and stick houses and gobble down sheep and pigs, or else! You've seen my handiwork and already know how creative I can be otherwise. So, I suggest you cut this shit out and do what you're told."

I slammed hard on the floor as he tossed me away, skinning my arm as I landed. When I looked up my vision filled with red as he threw the cloak at me.

"Put it on." He ordered.

My blood pounded in my ears, wanting to be angry. Instead, I was only exhausted, the donation had taken so much from me that I couldn't even be properly vengeful. This time around, I just gave in. My shoulders fell in surrender as I sighed, getting to my feet and pulling the thing over my head. I adjusted it till it was facing forward and kept my gaze down as Negan surveyed me. After a momentary inspection, I felt him reach his hand towards me but I flinched and tried to slap it away. He caught it with a firm grip on my wrist and a low, "Stop that!"

The move was more instinctual than rebellious but either way, I relented and held still for him to brush away some dust from my shoulder. As an added invasion, he tucked my hair behind my ear and stepped back to survey me.

"It suits you." He said. "Red is your color."

Red wasn't my color; that color had always been green.

I looked down at the thing and hated the sight of it. I hated it mostly for the fact that I actually thought it was pretty. The color was deep, the material was heavy and warm, and the decorative buttons were carved with a design of birds and roses.

Had anyone else I had known given me such a thing, I would have been charmed to receive it (I'd never wear it outside of town; the thing would stick out like a giant red pimple), but I hated it now, because Negan had been the one to give it to me.

He seemed to be waiting for something as he stood there. "Well… what do you say?"

I glanced up at him, puzzled for a moment.

"What do I say about what?" I asked, sincerely confused about what he was waiting for.

"Damn it, don't be rude, Judy. This is a bad habit with you, apparently, and it's sure going to be fucking resolved while you're here. If it's the only thing you learn here then you're going to learn it and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you never forget it. Now I just gave you a gift. What. Do. You. Say?"

He wanted me to thank him, I realized right then, thinking back to the time he tried to give me a get-well present and with after the attack from those barbaric kidnappers that abducted me while I was unconscious. I couldn't summon the energy to defy him, like normal, so I just gave him what he wanted.

I looked at the floor and forced out a difficult, "Thank you," through my clenched teeth.

"Like you mean it!" He growled, making me jump by the force of it.

"Thank you." I said louder while a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck in humiliation. I hated him. I hated him so freaking much.

"You don't have a whole lot of manners. I guarantee you'll learn those while you're here, you can count on that."

Normally, I wanted to say something witty by that, but I reframed. Common sense won out over pride this time.

---

I was brought back to the cell and left alone. With nothing else to do, I lied out on the bed, waiting for the moment of truth when it was confirmed that the man was going to live. Occasionally, I would start to fidget with my new apparel. Every time I looked down at it though, I had to look away in disgust.

To distract myself, I tried to concentrate on what had occurred in the infirmary but that swiftly proved not to be much better. My heart continued to ram against my ribs almost as if it were incapable of stilling itself. My stomach grumbled at that moment and my thoughts safely turned to food now. I had only been allowed water since the blood donation and given nothing to eat all day. I hadn't had much to eat the day before either.

What had my last meal been?

Tomato soup with toast.

I hadn't been all too hungry then, but now I was thoroughly starving and regretted turning down the cookies Mrs. Byron had offered me when I went to visit her and Mari before going home.

"Mari…" I muttered to the emptiness.

I tried not to think too much about family, my loving girlfriend, or home. Those thoughts would just make me feel worse about everything and I didn't feel like crying again. But the only other subject of interest that I could concentrate on was food, and that wasn't much better. If I thought of home, my chest hurt, and if I thought of sustenance, then my stomach hurt. Although in total honesty, it seemed like a rather minor pain when comparison. And then there was the thought of being here all alone and it all made everything that much worse. All these different emotions tended to create a horrible sensation of hunger and nausea that swirled around inside and made me dizzy.

I wasn't sure if I was famished or ill; maybe both. After careful consideration, I wondered if eating would be wise, especially if I was likely to toss it all up out of looming dread and homesickness.

Before leaving the infirmary, I had heard Negan ask the doctor if there was any medical advice he needed to be sure I was in prime condition to donate regularly—if the transfusion even worked, that is.

The doctor leaned in and said lowly, "Get some pounds on her."

I groaned by the memory, glancing down at my pathetic little physique. I was so puny.

Just then, the door opened and a man came inside.

"Time for dinner." He said pointing out. "Come on."

I was confused and scared while I trailed silently behind the man, following a path I knew.

At the most, I was expecting a sandwich in my cell, not a dinner call. I even preferred it. There was a sinking suspicion in me that said I would not like my dinner companions. I already knew who one of them would be but any others were a blank. With sudden dismay, I considered that perhaps I would be dining only with Negan and wasn't totally sure if that would be better or worse.

If something were to go wrong I sort of wanted a witness there just as a precaution. Yet even with an alternate guest it was anyone's guess how his behavior would compare to a private meal.

I was disgusted with myself. Had it really come to this? Was I so afraid that I couldn't bear the thought of being alone in a room with him? What happened to the brave girl that had faced down this creep in the deep forest, surrounded by his goons? The girl that had challenged and sassed him openly in front of her own people and had destroyed the symbol of his tyranny? She had seemed so fearless and angry back then. Why the hell was I even scared of him right now? It hadn't been the first time I was alone with him.

That was when I remembered that it had been on my turf back then. I was protected to an extent in town and even felt powerful in the forest. It was as much my home as our house back in Alexandria.

I knew it.

And now I was here, in this foreign place, surrounded by enemies and terrible people that wanted to use me in a thousand different ways, each more horrible than the last.

I told myself repeatedly that there was nothing to be afraid of. I had dealt with this monster before, but again it had always, always been on my turf. I wasn't in danger in Alexandria or the woods, not really. People would protect me and even though my dad was cowed in Negan's book, I knew he wouldn't dare hurt me in front of him. Dad would kill him without a thought to consequence or repercussions if anything happened to me. If there was something I trusted in entirely, it was my father's love for me. I trusted that without a doubt.

Yet even so, my imagination had a way of running wild and I decided I definitely wanted someone else there. The focus was already bound to be aimed enough at me. Having a third presence may just curb his interest for a few brief moments.

Butterflies flitted in my stomach, churning up more sickness and it grew agonizingly confusing on whether I was sick or hungry.

Come on! Pull it together! I tried to tell myself.

Negan was scary, but I just had to get through this one meal. I'd use what Dad called my "table manners" and do my job at being the polite well-behaved visitor. For my own self-preservation I needed to be smart and behave for once, even if every instinct in me screamed to roar and lash out like a caged beast. Tame was not my nature.

Behave! Behave! Behave!

The man led me to a large lavishly decorated lounge. I saw him there along with several beautiful women playing card games or just sitting around looking bored. More confused now than ever, I looked around wondering what the point of bringing me here with these ladies could have possibly been. Then my eyes caught sight of the woman from the infirmary, the one that had gone in wondering if she was pregnant.

Our eyes met across the room and I could tell she longed to say something to me. But before that could happen Negan stole my attention.

He smiled large as I entered and my escort left without another word, leaving me there with the women and the loose cannon. My focus wasn't on him for long as I glanced curiously around the many ladies surrounding me. They all had different body types, wore different black cocktail dresses, and were of different ethnicity, but one factor that they all shared was that they were extremely beautiful.

Negan noticed me staring and leaned down. "I know right. All the women where you live dress like elderly lesbians."

I glowered with those words, hatred firing straight through my core. "Tara was a lesbian!" I informed loudly, making every eye turn towards us just then. To be totally honest, I didn't actually know what a lesbian was but I had overheard a conversation between Tara and Rosita once about it and Tara had referred to herself as one.

Negan went a little pink and for the briefest moment looked uncomfortable with the outburst.

Then he brushed it off and turned in the room to address everyone. "Ladies, you have a nice dinner now." Some of them smiled and waved while he exited, others looked relieved as he went. But the first lady did neither and followed us out.

"I'll bet you've got to be hungry." He said walking over and putting his hands on my shoulders as he led me down a hall. I wanted to tense immediately up and wipe his contagious grip off me, like wiping off something slimy. "You haven't had anything to eat since yesterday, you gave a blood donation, and thanks to that it saved a man's life. Congratulations, you've just become a very important person."

I was already important before it was common knowledge, but it was a good thing I decided not to say that.

Keep it in check. That's what I had to do. Keep it in check and watch what you say, Judith.

I can do this! It's just dinner! I can do this! It's just dinner!

He steered me to a dining room where we found a fine set table laid out with piping hot food. I was seated on Negan's right while the man himself took his seat at the head of the table. The woman sat across from me and it occurred to me just then that I didn't know her name. I thought about asking but a cautious glance at Negan told me I shouldn't speak unless issued and not to her either way.

This was fucking ridiculous. I hated myself for being this submissive.

So, I instead focused on the food to distract me and at the sight of it I felt a wash of saliva fill my mouth. It was a whole chicken dinner with buttery potatoes, rolls, fresh sweet peas, and a whole savory roasted chicken.

A dinner like this would be a miracle for our town. We only ate like this on wildly special occasions and even on those days we all couldn't eat enough to get that full, keeping in mind we had to save some for everyone else. Besides, the Saviors tended to take all the good stuff anyways.

Far lately, my family always encouraged me to take more though, insisting that I was a growing girl and I needed to keep up my strength.

It never felt right to me, though. I didn't like having special treatment for being a kid or being a freaking cure. There were people who were starving and I couldn't stomach a bite if I knew someone was going hungry for me. My dad played that card constantly, but I wouldn't let him skip his meals. I'd make him eat, arguing nonstop till he relented and finally consumed what was on his plate.

If I went out of my way to get that food for him, he was damn well going to eat it.

A pang of homesickness overpowered me just then and I glanced again at Negan. Before I could talk myself into this meal out of worry of letting it go to waste, I reminded myself of what it all really was. He hadn't cooked this. He hadn't hunted or gathered or grown anything here. Nothing on this table had been earned by him. Not one bit of it.

My hunger was lost to disgust in a single moment and I knew then and there that I wasn't going to be able to stomach a bite of any of it.

I could refuse if I wanted and tell myself repeatedly not to feel guilty for the wasted food. And it wouldn't go to waste I was sure of it. Someone hungry enough would be able to eat it all. That's what I told myself at least.

My hatred of him was strong enough to overpower starvation and a new sensation of defiance overpowered me just then. I wasn't going to accept his services. I learned to care for myself years ago. The only thing he could give me that I would accept were those gates opening and letting me out for good. That was all I wanted out of him and I wouldn't take any more than that!

Negan looked down at me.

"What, not hungry?"

"I guess I've lost my appetite," I announced propping my elbow on the table and leaning my head against my hand. "Plus, I had a cracker before I left Alexandria so I think I'm good."

The woman looked at me in shock then snapped her gaze fearfully to Negan.

He smiled but it seemed somewhat forced as he looked down at me. "You know kid, I'll admit I was damn giddy when I found out you were the cure and it gave me just cause to bring you here with us instead. You're strong, resourceful, and got bigger balls than your dad even. I value those things. And your occasional sass could be passed off as something almost charming if I'm in a good mood. But my humor only goes so far and someday you're going to really piss me off and when that day comes, I'm gunna break your jaw." His eyes grew dark and all joking had vanished from his face just then, making me swallow hard. "Then whatever food you manage to scrounge up for yourself in the woods after that had better be mashed into a nice paste you'll be able to drink through a straw." His smile dropped into something so dark it was almost like the light had been sucked out of the room.

"Nothing and no one will hold me back if I think you need to be sorted out." His voice turned into an unholy growl and my nerve and iron will instantly dissolved into nothing. "So, I suggest you stow the attitude once and for all and eat your goddamned food." With one final look towards the woman across from me I caught her eyes widen with insistence, silently pleading for me to comply. It dawned on me with that look, just how terrified of him she truly was.

So, I relented.

Eating when hungry, yet sick with fear and guilt and anger all at the same time is strange. You want to gobble it all down quickly and then vomit seconds later. Plus, the food was richer than what I was used to, so that didn't help much. My poor stomach was confused in so many ways.

Mess with my head—fine! But please leave my stomach alone!

In the end, I only finished a roll and half a wing. I made a harder attempt to at least finish my beverage and was relieved to find it was cider rather than alcohol, like what Negan was downing.

"So, what do you think of my wives?" He asked sipping on something that made golden spirals against the glass when held in the light.

His words brought me to a halt while I stared back in shock. "All those ladies are your wives?!" I blurted in shock.

"Yeah. I don't understand that whole one wife rule. I always wanted to fuck a lot of women. I like many kinds," then he glanced at the woman whose name I still didn't know and smirked proudly, "though, there are those I prefer over others. Wait, do you know about fucking? I can't remember."

"Sort of. It's sex stuff isn't it?"

"Not going there." He stated suddenly, waving the conversation along. "No fucking way."

I didn't know where it came from, but those words turned my stomach in a way that was entirely new to me and I was twice as sick as I was before. I didn't know a whole hell of a lot about sex, I mean I knew it was something adults did together. It was something you did while naked and it involved kissing and whatever, but I didn't fully understand it. Not really. Honestly, I didn't quite understand the need for it, but any time the subject was brought up with my family, they assured me that someday I would understand, most likely after I hit puberty.

"Why so many? I'd think that would be exhausting. I mean that many wives—they've got to nag the hell out of you?"

The woman had been in the process of drinking something just then and at my announcement choked sharply on the beverage.

Negan didn't seem bothered by the question. "I only take the best. They came without the nagging. Why? Does your stepmother nag your dad?"

"She's just my mother and my dad doesn't need to be nagged." I said simply.

By that announcement I saw the shadow of an amused smirk cross the woman's face.

Negan didn't see as he looked down at me. "But I do?"

My brow cocked in surprise at him. "I'm not sure how you are with your wives, but I imagine there'd be plenty to nag about."

"You're bound and determined to only see the worse in me."

"Maybe that's because it's all I see."

"That seems a little unfair, especially when I've complimented your fine qualities."

"My fine qualities are easy to compliment because I actually practice them."

"Well apparently humility isn't one of them."

"I'd say we're short on that virtue all around. Other people can be better at that if they want."

"But not for us, right?"

I looked at him darkly, my voice lowering a few octaves. "There's no such thing as 'us'."

"Jeez kid, you jump to the most outrageous conclusions. Honestly what kind of gutter mind do you have?"

"Don't get fresh with me. I'm sure mine is all fairytales and lullabies compared to what goes on in yours. I wouldn't touch it with a thirty-foot pole."

The woman stared at me like she was looking at a bird that had just learned to cuss obscenely.

Meanwhile Negan's eyebrow rose as it usually did when I spoke in a way that went beyond what was considered proper banter for someone my age. "You talk like a forty-year old English teacher."

"Does that mean you took real English courses!" I exclaimed in mock surprise. My hand smacked my face in an added dramatic flurry, feigning an expression of astonishment. "I thought for certain you were fluent in only profanity!"

The reaction from the woman was instantaneous. She was drinking again and the moment it had burst from my mouth and she saw the look on Negan's face she choked sharply on her beverage, hacking and sputtering, concentrating on working her lungs free of the liquid and doing her best to mask what I assumed were chuckles as coughs instead.

"Maybe you need a moment to pull yourself together, Sherry." Negan said darkly.

She didn't look at him as she got up. "I think I do."

When she was gone it was just me and him.

It came from out of nowhere. There was a crack in the room and my face whipped suddenly to the side. I didn't even register the pain till I realized what happened.

Negan had hit me.

My hand pressed against the place where his hand met my face and I looked back at him in shock.

"That's been long overdue. I've put up with enough of your crap in the past. But you're under my roof now and if you're staying here you're going to learn to behave and mind your fucking manners already, just like I said you would. Understand?"

My voice stuck in my throat and I couldn't answer. It hadn't hurt as much as I expected, much more startled me.

"Understand?" He insisted dangerously.

"Y—yes."

"Good, now eat the rest of your food."

I was quiet while I turned back to my plate. The smart thing to do would have been to leave it be but there were times when it seemed like my attitude occasionally had a mind of its own.

"You know I'm just making jabs;" I said in my defense. "It's not like I killed anyone or ever made threats about killing anyone."

Negan looked over at me by that, I could almost see him actively trying to recall a time I had done so, but it didn't look like he could. "You're right. I can't exactly punish you for such little things with all that considering. And in all honesty your occasional impulsive bouts are completely harmless, if only irritating at times. I'm not one to get all sore because someone made fun of me. I can laugh at myself, but there's a fine difference between jokes and disrespect. And as meaningless as your jabs are, they open up far too much insubordination and I can't have that. If I let a little kid talk to me with such disrespect, imagine how that might go down among my men and all those other subordinates."

"I'm just a kitten batting at the tail of a lion." I defended, though my sarcasm was so well it was undetected. "What does the opinion of a child matter to someone with a vision like yours?"

He chuckled. "Exactly! Why should your opinion matter at all? Why the fuck should I care at all about the insolent thoughts of a snot-nosed brat."

I looked sideways at him, waiting for any move that seemed at all hostile but he just went on.

"In all honesty, I don't. Your opinion doesn't matter in this place. But keep this in mind the next time you open your mouth; just because your opinion doesn't matter doesn't mean I'll sit and listen to it. Those are your own words I think. So, do yourself a favor from now on and keep your mouth shut!"

Upon his order, my mouth snapped closed and I looked down at my plate in silence. It had just gotten a hundred times more awkward. After a while of picking at my food and taking occasional small bites, I leaned back and said, "I think I'm done. Can I go to the cell?"

"No, you're not leaving until you've cleaned your plate." Negan announced. "So, throw it back or whatever you've got to do, but you're not leaving with that much left on it."

"I'm not used to eating this much." I tried to explain. "Don't I have to like, work up my appetite?"

"Well then just sit there. You can at least visit."

I chose a corner in the room and glared at it, refusing to look at him. "I think I'm done with that as well. Don't feel like a very visiting mood, right now."

"Stop making this so difficult."

My fists slammed on the table and I leapt to my feet in outrage for his statement. "YOU MADE THIS DIFFICULT!" I shrieked, losing my patience at last. "I never wanted to come here! I never wanted to be the stupid cure in the first place! But who cares about that as long as you get your way, right?!"

He said nothing but rose to his feet as well, a calculated expression over his face. I prepared for another blow, but he turned to the door instead. It seemed as though dinner would be put on hold.

"Why don't we go for a little walk, girly. There's something I want to show you."

It didn't take a genius to guess that whatever he wanted to show me was not going to be anything good. I knew that but I still followed him, because really, there was no other choice.

"You've been curious about your Uncle Daryl, haven't you?"

My lips pursed in anticipation, suddenly understanding what would be at the end of this walk, but I nodded all the same.

"Yes. And you've refused to elaborate on his condition for years."

"Well allow me the honor of putting some of those worries to rest at last."

I swallowed as we came to a tin door that led out to the courtyard surrounding the factory. He opened the door and I followed him out towards the fence. I glanced out at the hundreds of walkers surrounding the building and grimaced. Some were chained up, others were impaled with spears or pipes, and some where stapled to trees. I spotted one that was even entirely limbless, strung up with a hook and dangling in midair.

They should have been put out of their misery, buried or burned, where they could return to the earth and be safe and warm again with the mother Gia. The ancients believed we were all just borrowing these bodies we walk around in and towards the end of our lives we need to return back to where we all first came from.

These things were people once. How far must a person fall to forget that? Some of the shadows of who they used to be lingered near their bodies, flickering between planes of existences as if they couldn't decide where they were going.

"This way," Negan directed me, bringing my attention away from the gnashing monsters and the ghostly shadows. We came up to a man I recognized, whose face was burned badly on his left side. "Dwight, he around by any chance?"

The man only pointed, apparently knowing who "he" was referring to. I followed his hand but I couldn't see anything other than a few workers.

One of them was roughly pulled from the rest just then and I had stifle a gasp at the sight of the one coming forward. Daryl stood in front of me, though it was hard to tell based on my memory. This was not the Daryl I remembered.

All I could say on his condition was that he was much changed.

This man's movements seemed in a way, mechanical, more so than even the motorcycle he'd spent hours bent over, repairing and making endless adjustments to while I watched as a littler girl.

"Daryl Dixon?" I had always called him by his full name as a child. It was my thing and he always knew who was calling by the way my voice squeaked over his last name.

He looked towards me and the shadow of recognition crossed his face. Before I knew it, the old fire I recognized was back in his gaze and I spotted my uncle under the years of abuse that he wore. His eyes turned up and he growled at Negan.

"The fuck is she doing here? What you want with her, you bastard?"

With that word, Dwight socked him roughly in the jaw, sending him to the ground. A pained shriek left me at the abrupt violence.

"Manners, Daryl," Negan grinned. "I thought you would have learned by now."

"The fuck is she here?" Daryl demanded, seemingly unfazed by the blow. "You hurt her?!"

"Calm the fuck down, Daryl. I'm not going to hurt this little spitfire." His hand ruffled my hair in demonstration. "She's too fucking important to waste carelessly."

"The fuck you talkin' about, sicko?"

Negan looked like he would burst with happiness at the opportunity to tell Daryl the big juicy news. "Well, Daryl Dixon, as it so happens, your little friend here happens to be completely immune to walker bites."

Daryl's brow lowered in confusion at the strange news but he disbelieved it a second later. Maybe he was like me; if it was coming from Negan, it had to be a lie.

"Bullshit." He said. "Don't fuck with me, you wack sicko. Why the fuck is she really here?"

Negan looked genuinely offended. "Hell, you really think I swing that way? She's ten years old for fuck's sake."

For a brief moment, he looked like the Daryl Dixon I once knew. That fire that was in his eyes was back and he looked like he would spring at Negan, consequences be damned. "You so much as touch one fucking hair on her head—,"

"Maybe you'd like to hear it from the horse's own mouth." Negan suggested turning to me expectantly. "Why don't you go ahead and tell your dear Daryl Dixon the truth about yourself, sweetheart. Go ahead, then."

My eyes flicked from Negan to Daryl before falling on the dirt. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't think I could voice it out loud. I am the cure, we had it the whole time and no one knew. All the friends and family we lost could have been saved if I had come forward sooner. Dad said it wasn't my fault, but that didn't diminish the guilt in me that grew bigger and bigger every day when thinking about it.

The silence stretched while I kept my gaze on the ground.

"Judith?"

I looked at him, and the look I gave him was all the confirmation he seemed to need. Daryl's expression was utterly shocked. "Bullshit," he said, as if saying the word would prove such news wrong. He caught the guilt in my face though, and the word slipped out again, more forceful, "Bullshit! There ain't no freakin' cure!"

"No of course, you're right," Negan announced as if he had been kidding the whole time. "I mean we already tested it, but it wouldn't be too impractical to double check just to make sure."

With those words two Saviors grabbed Daryl and hauled him to his feet.

"What are you doing?" I could hazard a guess what was going to happen, but I desperately didn't want to believe they were about to do what I was afraid they were about to do. "Stop! Let him go!" They dragged Daryl to a pair of the walkers chained to the fence and I rushed forward, intending to attack them.

Something snapped me back just then and I felt Negan's filthy hands on my neck and shoulder, restraining me.

"Get off! Don't touch me! Let go!" I hissed at him, thrashing in his hold. The men pulled my uncle dangerously closer and closer to one of those chomping starving creatures. "No stop it!" I screamed, trying to rip away from my captor.

I watched helplessly, probably hard enough to actually leave bruises this time as my uncle was pulled forward towards one of the more rotted out walkers and, with a withering shriek of terror, he stared with wide eyes as it bit into his shoulder, tearing away a scarlet red chuck of flesh and nerve. My own scream was lost over the bellow of his cry.

At last, Daryl was released and fell in the dirt hard on his back. His roars of fury cut the air as he held the area where the teeth had torn into him and I knew from the way he howled he could practically feel the infection taking hold of him.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" He shouted to the sky. From his place on the ground his furious wide eyes turned to Negan, who still had hold on me, and he roared at him. "You sick, evil FUCK!"

"Language, there are little ears around." Negan said, completely unfazed by what he'd let just happen. My eyes stared in horror at the blood gushing from Daryl's open wound and water filled my mouth as I felt the small dinner rise up just then. When the metallic salty smell hit me, I bent over and vomited on the ground, coughing and hacking.

"Jesus, kid, I would have thought you'd gotten use to the sight of blood by now. Don't you go hunting?"

At the time, I couldn't think of anything in response to that. My mind was focused completely on my injured, dying uncle and the panic coursing through me kept me from acting. For a moment, I entirely forgot what to do. It was the first time in my life I'd ever seen a walker actually bite a person. Around me, no one was ever harmed, but outside the peripheral bubble of protection I seemed to emit, everyone was vulnerable.

I knew these things were deadly but being me, I completely forgot how lethal they truly were. After all, when you don't have to worry about something attacking you, such dangerous things tended to slip the mind. When they remind you, though, it's with a vengeance. In that moment, I didn't know what to do.

Negan still had a hold on me but when I stilled in shock I felt his grip loosen ever so slightly. With that, I found my opportunity to escape and pulled away at last, running to where Daryl fell and kneeling where he was.

"Daryl! Daryl Dixon!" I said, skidding in the dirt and putting pressure on his wound. Ugly red soaked my hands, creating a sickening stain. In barely seconds my hands were covered with that shining crimson. It blended too well with the cloak. "It's going to be alright! I swear it's going to be alright!"

I heard him growl, much like an animal caught in a trap that knew its moments were limited.

"FUCK THIS SHIT ALREADY!" He hissed.

I caught sight of Negan standing over us, his grinning face cast in shadow while he surveyed our place on the ground. I had been here before. Right after he beat my father and the result had led him to internal bleeding that required surgery. There was never any other time when he looked more enormous. It hadn't exactly hit me until then just how powerful he really was. I might have been the cure but it was through his will alone whether or not Daryl would live.

"Please—please! I—I need to save him!" I pleaded. The words left a horrible rancid taste on my mouth—or was that the vomit? Here I was, on my knees and begging to this depraved monster. Without a doubt, this was the lowest moment of my life. I had to grovel because refusing to do so would mean he died and I couldn't bear that guilt. "Please! Let me save him!"

He knelt down to my level and the smile he gave me sent a shocking cold chill through my whole body. I could tell by that look that it was going to cost me, even if his next words said otherwise.

"Shit honey, of course I'll let you save him. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

Apparently, the kind who lets lesser monsters eat men alive to prove a point; the words were in my head but they remained as thoughts. I wouldn't test him at a time like this.

Two Saviors assisted in hauling Daryl to his feet and taking him to the infirmary. Negan and I were close behind and when there, I was instructed to lie down on a cot while Daryl spread out on one directly next to me. A needle and tube inserted under the skin of my arm and out flowed a long trail of red. This time the doctor didn't bother with the plasma machine but administered it directly near the opened wound.

Daryl seemed to have gotten worse in a matter of moments. There was a cold sweat on his forehead and he was shivering as the expected walker fever took hold of him. In time, he looked dazedly up at the ceiling, watching something that could only be seen by his eyes.

"Don't die." I murmured to him, feeling the strength in me swiftly drain away. My head spun and I sunk into the pillow, watching through a hazy sort of vision while the doctor cleaned the fresh blood from his wound and begin to wrap it carefully with gauze. I only moved again when he severed the tube connection.

"No. H-he needs more." I tried to object.

"You've given him enough."

"He'll die."

"You'll die." He countered.

"I don't care about me."

"Well you should. Here." He pushed forward a glass of juice and I struggled to grasp it. "Drink up. If you don't want him to die then take care of yourself."

Without a response to that I sipped slowly, wetting my parched mouth and keeping my eyes always on my uncle.

---

Author's notes: Whew! Long chapter today.

So, it finally looks like Daryl's made an appearance at last. I know there's been a lot of people wondering about him and I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry for putting everyone through this horror show.

So, it looks like there's a lot of abuse that takes place in this chapter and of course Negan doesn't consider it actual abuse since he compares it to simply disciplining a misbehaving child but Judith is only talking back and saying what's true. Even if Negan dislikes it, if he really believed his behavior towards things is in the rights, he'd be able to argue why with no need to resort to physical violence.

He is such a dick.

Still, Judith would say it's better he's taking it out on her instead of someone else. Girl, that is not healthy. And goddamned it, Negan, Judith just donated like four hours ago and you're going to make her watch her uncle bleed out?! Someone, save those two!

One little update, if you didn't notice I changed the chapter titles for Chapter 1 and 2. Somehow they just didn't sound right. I know, I know, I'm so indecisive.

Just so you know I'm still taking requests for any short drabbles anyone would be interested in reading. I'm working on a few involving Judith's birthday and some of her adventures in the woods, I may even do a few of Rick and Judy out on hunting trips together and their interactions during these outings.

I'll see you again next update and again, thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys. They mean so much.

Luv ya lots!