Negan knelt in front of me, his hands on my face, rough thumb pads swiping under my eyes. I watched him as he stared at me, trying it seemed to see straight through me. I closed my eyes, and let my hand cover one of his where he rested on my cheek. I couldn't deny that I liked his touch. I couldn't say that I felt NOTHING for him, but I also couldn't agree to become whatever he considered his "wives" to be.
I was holding his hand to my face when I felt the thumb of his other hand touch my lips. I sighed, letting the air in my lungs wash over his fingers. Why did he have to ask this now? Why did he have to make it more complicated than it had to be?
"Jessi," Negan's voice was raw, as though he was torn by the mere thought of speaking. "Look at me, sweetheart."
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "Why now, Negan?" I asked, thinking that if we dealt with all of it like a bandaid, that maybe we could rush past it, and get to the real issues. My family and his people were going to go toe to toe.
"I told you, Jessi, I-" his eyes closed and he took a deep breath. "I need to know that you won't hate me if he dies. If he dies during this fucking war that him and your dad seem to need so damn badly."
When his eyes opened, he saw me studying him. "I didn't hate you when you killed Abraham, Negan." I started, and he opened his mouth to speak, but my free hand brushed over his lips to stop him. "Let me speak, please." His nod gave me the clear to keep going. "I didn't hate you when you killed him, or Olivia, or Spencer. I didn't hate you when those deaths happened because I think I understand why you did it." I sighed again. "This world. The world we live in now, it's not the same as it was before. Before we had the luxury of high morals, of knowing firmly right from wrong. Now, it's kill, be killed, or be killed again. Every single person, every LEADER in this new world, has a new set of morals. A new set of right from wrong. A new set of rules." I closed my own eyes to collect my thoughts. "I've watched Daryl leave a barn after beating a man from a rival group for information. I've watched my own father attack another man in the middle of Alexandria because he felt he had the moral high ground. I've watched women who never once raised a hand to defend themselves against abusive men in their lives kill without blinking." I opened my eyes to see he was listening intently to me. "I may not always agree with the rules of each leader. I may not always agree with their tactics or their motives. In the end? It doesn't matter what I agree with. If I choose to follow someone, then they are the leader and I am not. Because I don't want to LEAD, Negan. It's not something I'm interested in. I don't want that responsibility. I don't want the weight of the lives of followers on MY shoulders or conscience." I took his hand from my face, but kept our hands together. "If Daryl dies at your hand, or one of your people's hands, then you have to know that I will experience the pain of losing him. I will grieve him. But hate you for HIS choice to fight? No. That won't happen."
His eyes, ever changing, were dark again. He had listened, but did he HEAR me. "Are you really sure about that, Jessi?" He let his fingers link with mine. "That his death, or your dad's, or fuck, Carl's, won't make you hate ME?"
I shook my head. "Death is one of the few constants in our world, from before and now, Negan. Men and women died before this shit started, and they'll die after your war with Dad and Daryl." I knew I sounded defeated, because I was. This was something he couldn't fix. They couldn't fix it. I would never be better in this one sense. The inevitability of death didn't make it more reasonable or easier to deal with. "I will grieve, Negan. I will be sad and angry about their deaths, or yours, because it could go either way. But hating you? Or them for that matter? Why would I? I haven't hated them for anything else, I can't hate you for it either. You're all so certain it's necessary. All I can do, all I can promise is to try my damnedest to help you understand them, and in that you'll find a way that the cost isn't as great as it could be."
"I don't want you to disappear inside yourself over this, Jessica." His eyes were still locked on mine. "I don't want you to lose yourself because of this shit." I could see he meant it, and I didn't know why he was so concerned.
"Negan," I was staring at him, trying to think of a way to phrase what I wanted to know without raising the tension in the room to a fever pitch again. "Why do you care, really?" Our fingers were still linked. "Don't you have enough wives?" I tried to make it sound flippant, but I was honestly trying to understand him.
He got to his feet and used his free hand to run down his face. His other was still holding my hand and he used it to pull me from my chair. Sitting down in his spot on the sofa, he tugged me onto his lap. His face found my neck and he inhaled the scent of my skin, seemingly to calm himself or to gather his thoughts.
"I don't know." He whispered, his breath fanning against my skin. "I don't know why I care. I don't know why it matters if you hate me, Jessica Grimes. I just fucking do. I care. I want you to-"
When he stopped, a groan left his lips as though the mere thoughts he wanted to give life to by voicing them. I felt like I was holding my breath, but then his hands were cupping my face and he was staring me in the eyes again. And then his lips met mine and my eyes closed. Kissing me, Negan felt like he was as tormented as he'd been in trying to explain himself, but he was trying, I could tell to show me.
I let the kiss go on for as long as I could, but I wanted answers. Making out with Negan was well worth the time, but the truth was that being physical with him would NOT make what we needed to get clear come out easier. I finally pulled away, watching his eyes open when I moved my mouth from his.
"Words, Negan." I begged. I needed to understand, and kissing it away wasn't going to work. Not for me.
"I want YOU, Jessi. I want you and me, I want US." I knew I looked confused because I felt it. He swallowed hard and glanced down. "What we have, what I want us to have, it isn't the same." As? I wanted to ask, but I waited. He was talking now, I didn't want him to clam up. "My wives, they were offered a deal, or some offered me a deal-" Another swallow, and I stayed quiet. "What you offered? Was YOUR LIFE for someone else. You wanted to die and use me to do it, but you also wanted to SAVE someone with your death." It was the truth, but I didn't quite understand. "You had no fucking clue I'd bring you here. That I'd let you live, that I'd work to bring you back to yourself." Also all true. "When I asked you if you wanted me, I had to know that you didn't assume it was part of you being alive still. That this, us, wasn't part of it. That you aren't THEM."
I leaned back, staying on his lap, but wanting to see him. His face, his posture, and his eyes. "When you say they, the wives, had a deal?" I wanted to know, he had his curiosity, so did I.
Negan sighed, his eyes tight. "The ones that had partners, were offered a place with me, for their own safety and to keep their men in line. The others came to me, wanting the same protection and perks."
"Perks?" I asked, starting to understand a bit more.
"No points. No fighting. Safety and luxury." I nodded, showing I wanted all of it. "In return, I owned their bodies. Their partners couldn't touch them again. They were my wives, after all." He said it as though it made perfect sense. His harem for their luxurious lives.
"That's why-" I closed my eyes at the memory of the man's skin burning. The smell of burnt flesh. "Because she cheated." I whispered, remembering him and the woman, her vows of her love for him and I felt sick. "What about me?" I wanted to know, I needed certainty even with his multiple wives that the rules didn't apply to him.
"It's a one way street, Jessi." His voice was quiet, he was clearly watching my face. "They get a better deal than me, in so many fucking ways." Sure, I thought, they didn't have to be with you every time you rang the bell. Or hell, maybe there were nights when they all took him on, how would I ever fucking know?
"Of course," I stood up and moved out of his reach. "Pretty clothes, safety, and unlimited shit that they don't have to work for-" except flat on their backs, or on their knees. "What about Eugene?"
"Eugene?" He clearly forgot that his harem was currently keeping Dr. Mullet company.
I was standing at the window, staring out into the darkness so different from my own. I directed my next words to the glass. "Yes, Eugene, the bullet maker. Aren't YOUR WIVES keeping him entertained?"
"They aren't fucking him." He offered, clearly bothered by the very idea. "I'm not even sure he's capable."
My hand pressed against the cool glass. "And me? Would I be entertainment for your next pet?"
"Jessi," Negan groaned, and I heard him stand. "Didn't I say that you're fucking different?"
"Don't come closer, please." I didn't turn around, but I needed him to not touch me. "How am I different? Because I wanted to DIE and you saved me? Because I didn't offer to sleep with you for my freedom or gifts? Because I wanted to DIE and I became a martyr in your eyes?" I turned finally, and let him see the pain on my face. "Negan, I'm not a fucking saint. I'm not a martyr. I'm someone who gave the FUCK UP. I couldn't stand this fucking world. The pain, the death. Watching my baby brother turn merciless. Watching my dad and the man I love decide that they are willing to let people DIE so our people can have 'more'?" I sighed and leaned against the wall beside the window. "You think you see me so fucking clearly. You don't see me any better than they did."
He started forward, but I held up my hand to stop him. "You take the bed, Negan, I'll take the couch." It was final. And he knew it. I needed space. And since he wouldn't let me leave this room without him, then I'd be sleeping alone. Period.
