When we arrived back at the Sanctuary, I saw where 'D' had been. He was riding Daryl's bike, and I supposed that, like the weapons, was the spoils of war. Or a skirmish, since as far as I could tell, it hadn't gotten to full war.

I followed Negan without thought. Without fear, without a care or the need to even pretend that I was aware. Every part of me was so used to this, going through the motions, that I could do it without a single aware thought. Once again I was in his room, and seated in front of him.

"Jessi," he tried the name that my dad must have used to ask for my return. I flinched. It was a name I only heard out of the people closest to me, and he was for all purposes, a stranger. "You don't like the name?"

I kept my eyes on his. "It's fine." I answered, sitting ramrod straight and as still as a stone.

He was still examining me. Looking for what, I truly couldn't say or care. "Did you want to stay there, with Rick and the hick?"

I felt my brow furrow. What kind of question was that? Was it a trick or a test? In the end, what did my answer matter? I'd made a deal, life for a life, and here I was. "Does it matter?"

He leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Consider me fucking curious."

I still didn't get it. Why would he care? What difference could my wants, or my feelings matter? "Where I am doesn't make one bit of difference to me." It was true. Here or there. What did it matter to me? Not like I could let myself stay present, or aware. Nowhere was far more tempting than anything my surroundings could offer. Here, at least, I didn't have to pretend as much, or I didn't think I did.

"I believe you," he said, leaning forward and staring at me intently. "But I still wanna know why the fuck you think that?"

His curiosity bothered me. I'd given him my life for Glenn's. I'd agreed to whatever was coming. I'd assumed death, sure, but I would do whatever he asked of me. Except this. I would not bare my soul to him. Not just because he was a stranger. Not simply because he had monstrous tendencies. Because in the end of it all, I didn't think I had to share it with anyone, much less him. I was his property. And that was it. Pet or prey, I really didn't care.

I didn't answer him. My silence is answer enough. Or it should be. My eyes remain locked on his. And we reached a stalemate.

Time passes, how much I have no clue, but it must. The shadows from the sunlight dappling through the window move subtly. "I can't help you if you won't share," Negan offers, cutting through the quiet.

Why bother? What's the point of trying to help me? I traded my LIFE and I suppose my body, but the rest? It doesn't play a part, not really. "Why does it matter?" I finally asked, a tinge of curiosity coming to the surface.

He stared at me, considering obviously how to answer me. "Why didn't anyone else?" He countered.

I tilted my head and took my time to perform my own inspection of him. He looked far too interested in my opinion. He had, aside from throwing my lack of answer in Alexandria in Dad's face, treated me with kindness. And even with his not so subtle dig at Dad, it was more about how he'd failed me.

"I suppose," I finally leaned back in my own seat, feigning a relaxation I didn't feel. "That no one noticed or thought that I needed help."

Negan ran his hand down his face. The tell I'd noticed when we were in the RV. I still couldn't tell what it meant. Frustration? Irritation? Calming himself? His mouth was closed and it looked like he was chewing his words. Tasting them, and deciding which ones to use. Which ones to toss out, which ones made the most sense.

He sighed, long and deep. "Why didn't they?" And I couldn't decide if he was asking me, or if he was ruminating on the lack of attention that my people showed me. His eyes were locked on mine, almost trying to draw the answers he wanted so badly to questions he hadn't asked yet, right from my brain. "Jessi, if I could see it. If I could take a fucking single damn look into your goddamn eyes and see it, then why couldn't they?"

My mask, I wanted to say. The mask that I wore so carelessly, yet so absolutely covering my every lack of emotion, or overly emotional reaction that I didn't know how to deal with. Why would they want to slip it off? When every single day we'd survived, another fucking terrible thing showed up. Humans who wanted us dead. The dead who wanted us dead. The fucking very nature of our environment wanted us dead. Why would anyone, much less the people who loved me, want the added burden?

"Why would they want to?" Question for a question. And it was true. If I didn't want my own fucking burdens, why would I expect someone else to pick them up?

His eyes were looking at me like I'd disappointed him. That somehow that wasn't good enough. That I should have done better. Yeah, well, get in line, I thought. "People are resources, Jessi. Family, if you're left with family and loved ones, then they are MORE than just resources." He was so focused, yet there was something behind his words. Something that I couldn't quite grasp. "Your dad, your hick, they-" He stopped, and shut his eyes, letting me have a break from his scrutiny. "What was your place in your group? Your purpose with them?"

I was about to say that I took care of my brother and sister, but I wasn't sure he knew about Judith, and even though I wasn't available to her bodily, I wouldn't put her in danger. "I-" I tried to think of the best explanation. "I took care of my brother. I made sure that our people stayed-" what was the way to say it. "I meditated, in the beginning. I made sure that no one blamed themselves for the inevitable losses." Daryl, I thought, I made sure he knew that it wasn't his fault. Not when Merle died. Not when he couldn't bring back Sofia. Not when Zach was lost on his run. I took it from him, the burden.

"And what did they give you in return?" His voice was quiet. He wanted the comparison. My burden versus theirs.

My chin raised in defiance. I wouldn't make my family sound selfish or neglectful. They weren't. We lived in a horrible Hell on earth. We all had burdens. "They loved me. They kept me safe."

Negan's eyes were slits as he squinted at me, as though he were trying to filter through my scarce answers to find something to latch onto. "Love is a two way street, and safety? Why are you here, instead of anyone else, or better yet, why did anyone have to be here?" He stopped letting me roll it around in my head. "Your dad didn't need to start shit with me, Jessi. They didn't have to attack my people. They had no reason to pick a fight that they weren't going to win." He leaned forward again, closer and more intense. "You weren't in the groups that we gathered, why?"

"I didn't go on runs." It was the truth. I hadn't been on a run since before we settled at the prison. It wasn't something nefarious. It wasn't.

"Why?" He asked, always wanting more.

I shrugged. "I didn't want to go." And Deanna hadn't given me the task for a job, and Dad hadn't asked either, I added in my head.

"Why?" Again.

"Because, I didn't. Want. To. Go." I was getting aggravated with this, why did it matter, damn it?

"Why?" His tone never changed. He didn't raise his voice.

I sighed, and glanced at the wall. "I didn't want to go." I sounded defeated. Even to me. A crack in my mask.

"Did your dad, did your-" he stopped, skipping over Daryl, but including him in his own way. "Did they ever ask why you didn't want to go?"

No, they hadn't. They had left. And most of the time without a backward glance or a goodbye. I shook my head. Not willing to speak. Not knowing how my damn voice would sound. And not willing to allow another crack to form.

"When was the last time?" He asked, and I looked back at him. Last time? He saw my confusion. "The last time he touched you, the last time he LOOKED at you?"

He wasn't talking about Dad. He wanted to know about Daryl. I swallowed and blinked back the burn in my eyes. "I don't know." My voice was a breath. But as quiet as his room was it could have been a scream.

Negan leaned back in his seat again. He was breathing slightly harder, as though interrogating me was a workout. "They didn't see you, HE didn't see you breaking because it was inconvenient to them." He bit out and I was shocked at how angry he sounded. Why was he pissed, he barely fucking knew me? "They let you fall completely fucking apart and didn't fucking see it because they might have to fucking take care of you." His eyes were flashing like fire. "It was FINE when you built them back up, when you took their fucking guilt for whatever your group went through, but they couldn't, HE couldn't fucking take a moment to do the same for you."

"You don't know him." I spit out. Defending Daryl against his accusations.

He glared at me. "I don't fucking thing you do, either." He returned.

I glared right back at him, feeling more than I'd felt in God knew how long. How fucking dare he? How dare he challenge it, what Daryl and I shared. But how long ago did you share it? A traitorous part of my brain asked. "You know nothing. About me. About him. You don't know shit." I was angry. With Negan, with myself.

He raised his eyebrow. "I know that this is the first fucking time you've shown ANY fucking emotion since you walked out of that fucking tree strand. I know that you sleep so you can fucking leave the world behind, so you don't have to fucking face the realities that fucking surround you and no one is willing to help you through it so you can wake the fuck up and see that you're barely fucking alive." He was as irritated as I was. "I can tell you this much, Jessica Grimes. If you were mine, like you were his, and you'd stepped up and offered your fucking life for another person's, I'd have fucking stopped you. I would have fucking put my own down in your fucking place, because that's what love is."

I felt the first tear fall. And then I was sobbing. That first crack in my fucking shell, it had broken the whole damn mask. There I sat, unmasked and broken. As Negan sat before me watching.