The Sound and the Fury

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead or any related title, character, plot, setting, etc. These rights are the sole property of Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, AMC, and various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements in this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

Chapter Three

She disliked days cleaning the bottom floor of the Sanctuary. These wide halls were made narrow with the mass 'rooms' for the workers who couldn't afford private rooms on the upper levels. Every time she cleaned there, she inevitably disturbed a worker desperately attempting to catch up on sleep or was accused of stealing from someone's meager pile of belongings.

With such experiences in mind, Collins was listening intently to her surroundings as she cleaned. Fortunately, this particular section didn't need much work. The Sanctuary was too big and too busy to worry about things like mopping, so Collins had only been told to sweep through the common areas with a wide push broom. She wasn't required to clean inside worker rooms and so she didn't. Halfway down the last long hallway of the day, Collins heard two male voices behind her and fought not to tense. She hadn't turned to see the men, so she shouldn't know they were there. That didn't stop her from listening, though.

"So that's the one he wanted us to check up on?"

"Yeah, that's her. She was with that group he brought in last month."

"Why does he care?"

The other man snorted. "Since when does Negan give explanations for his orders? He tells us to come down here, we do."

Saviors. Collins fought to keep from tensing up, concentrating on pushing the broom in short sweeps to herd the dirt into the pile she was slowly moving down the hall. Why would Negan send his men - Saviors, no less - to check on her? Unless he was suspicious. Had she done something that made him realize the truth? She didn't think so, but the more comfortable Collins felt in her role, the more likely she was to make a mistake. Jumping at a loud noise, not watching people's mouths as they spoke to her, anything could tip him off.

From all accounts, Negan was a smart man. It wouldn't take much for him to find her out. And the punishment for lying to the head Savior himself was death, whether by being thrown to the dead or meeting Lucille, Collins didn't know and she had no intention of finding out. When things quieted down, she could sneak out. Perhaps she had worn out her welcome here. Part of her ached for the flashlight. It would have been the best possible tool for her journey west, but her life was more important.

"Wait, was that a bruise?" one of the Savior hissed, bringing Collins back to the present. She had turned slightly to sweep along the seam where the wall met the floor.

"Aren't you worried she'll hear you?"

"She's deaf, man. There, on her cheek. That's a bruise."

Collins turned the opposite direction, swinging the broom out to capture a large dust bunny near one of the sheet walls.

"That's another one on the back of her arm, look. Shit. We'll have to report it."

"What does Negan care if some janitor got into a fight?"

"Have you ever known him to check up on a low-level worker?"

"Shit."

"Yeah. Let's go. The sooner we tell him, the better."

The footsteps retreated and Collins finished the rest of the hall in short order. Interestingly enough, she did have a number of bruises at the moment, but it wasn't because she got into a fight. Her ex-Marine hand-to-hand trainer would haunt her if she had lost a fight with one of these undernourished, overworked people.

No, the storage closet on the bottom floor was an absolute nightmare. Rather than having any kind of organizational structure, the cleaning supplies were thrown into the closet, brooms and mops leaned haphazardly against the wall. Collins had been putting away a dry mop a few days prior when she had tripped on a bucket and been caught in an avalanche of cleaning supplies.

It didn't matter. None of it did. Before she went to dinner that night, Collins took a shower and quietly packed her belongings, locking her packed bag in her footlocker to avoid any questions or suspicions. The key to escaping the Sanctuary safely was to act like everything was normal. Collins had been acting since the moment she had met the Saviors; only a few more hours of top performance would allow her to escape with her life.

Collins couldn't taste her food. She was too on-edge for it, putting all of her energy into looking nonchalant and being as engaged in conversation with the artisan group as she ever was. Jason eagerly accepted when she offered him the food she couldn't bring herself to choke down and she was about to leave in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep when the room went silent.

Along with everyone else, she turned to see a black leather jacket and a barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat approaching. Everyone in the room dropped to one knee on the floor, the people at the tables standing to do so. Collins hated this part, hated it more than anything else about life in the Sanctuary.

It was also the major drawback of her deaf persona. Collins had to kneel until someone around her remembered to tap her on the shoulder and tell her Negan had passed. It usually took longer than she was patient enough to accept, but - as she was to find out on this very occasion - it was preferable to the alternative.

Today, Negan's footsteps grew closer and closer until his motorcycle boots were in her field of vision. She saw his legs bending and his smiling face soon appearing in her line of vision. He was ducking at a near impossible level, crouched in front of her to motion that she should stand up. Heart in her throat, she did.

"Everyone can stand up now!" Negan called, resting one arm on Collins's shoulder. It was the one not holding Lucille, thankfully, but Collins was still far closer to the bat and its owner than she had ever wanted to be. "Quick announcement, folks: the Saviors are going to be doing nightly patrols of the bottom levels for the next week or so. We've had some… incidents. Just a reminder for all of you that attacking another Sanctuary resident is for-fucking-bidden. If we catch you at it, Lucille here'll break your legs and you'll be thrown out to the dead-heads. Are we clear?" A chorus of "Yes, sir"s sounded around the room and Negan grinned. "Good! Dismissed."

Collins hoped that Negan would leave, but he only waited until she had sat down before sitting beside her. He was imposing, both in physical presence and personality, and she scooted further down the bench.

"Jason," Negan drawled, "I need you to translate what I just said to Collins here."

Collins signed quickly to him and he translated, "She says she understands. She read your lips as you were talking to everyone."

"Are you sure?" Negan asked, making serious eye contact with Collins. She was grateful for once that her false lip reading gave her a reason not to meet his gaze. "I don't want any misunderstandings on this, doll."

She nodded and he nodded along with her. He turned to look at the table instead, face darkening as he saw Jason eating from Collins's discarded tray. Negan looked back at Collins, who looked around at everyone else to avoid him, but he tapped at the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck. "Anything you want to tell me, Collins?"

Collins fought to control her raging pulse, worried he would somehow see the panic his question had brought about, and shook her head. He watched her for a moment even after she had finished the motion, dark eyes intense as he twirled Lucille where the bat rested against the table. "Anyone else at the table have anything I should know ?"

There was no reply and Negan slapped his hands loudly on the table. Fortunately, Collins had been resting her elbows on the surface and used the vibrations as an excuse for jumping at the sound. "If anyone suddenly remembers anything I should hear about, I'll be around."

With that vaguely menacing statement, Negan left, waving away the few people who started to kneel as he stood. Jason watched Collins in concern. "Did someone attack you? Is that why he was saying all of that?"

Collins signed back that she had fallen in the supply closet, but he didn't seem to believe her. It was just as well, she thought. She couldn't go tell Negan that she hadn't been attacked because he had never said she was the reason he had added patrols of the Sanctuary's lower levels. She couldn't even reference the visit she had gotten from the Saviors without admitting that she could hear them because she had never seen them. It was a mess, and Collins went to bed directly after leaving the cafeteria.

The additional patrols meant that she was stuck in the Sanctuary a little while longer; at least another week. After things died down once more, she would be able to make her escape. Collins just had to keep up the charade for a bit more time.

The next day, Collins was on-edge. Saviors had been patrolling the halls all night, waking her every time they passed. The frequency of their patrols was astonishing. She had been correct in assuming that there would be no way to make her escape as long as this heightened security lasted. The abundance of Savior presence, as well as the memory of Negan's closeness the previous night in the cafeteria, led her to be less cautious than she should have been.

When Negan's footsteps approached her from behind as she was dusting the metal railings of the factory catwalk on the main level, Collins turned to see him. He paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "How did you know I was behind you?"

Thinking frantically, Collins's mind latched onto her reaction the night before. Setting the long-handled duster aside, she pointed to the floor, then held her hands palm down and parallel to it, vibrating them slightly in the beat of footsteps.

Negan burst out a laugh, causing a momentary pause in production on the main floor. "Are ya calling me fat, sweetheart?"

Collins grinned broadly and shook her head. Negan grew serious once more. "Here, I brought you something."

He held out a small notepad and a pen, which Collins accepted hesitantly. Saviors, points accountants, and vendors had first pick of all paper and writing supplies, and they took most of it. The lack of available paper had led to a shortage for the people, and the pad and pen she was holding represented a value of well over one hundred points.

Before she wrote in it, she cocked an eyebrow and rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the shorthand for How much?

Negan shook his head. "On the house. If there's anyone in this place who should get access to free paper, it's you. The only payment I need is honesty."

She tilted her head slightly at him and he sighed, motioning for her to follow him. After grabbing the duster, she did.

When they were in a slightly more secluded area - or, at least, out of the sight of most main-floor workers - Negan took a step closer to Collins and used his serious voice. She had to fight a tide of amusement at that, as - to the best of his knowledge - she couldn't hear him.

"Yesterday, I got a report that you're covered in bruises. If someone tried to hurt you, I need to know."

Finally, the opening she needed. Flipping to the first page of the unmarked notepad, Collins wrote, So the extra patrols are because of me?

Negan accepted the pad, but frowned down at it as he blinked rapidly. "Holy fuck, your handwriting is terrible! How am I supposed to read that?" Collins only shrugged. She had gotten similar comments from every teacher she'd ever had, as well as several bosses. They had either been able to read her handwriting eventually or she had rewritten it. This would be the same. Finally, Negan seemed to make sense out of her question. "Yes, they are. That was strike one, Collins. Answer the fuckin' question or I'll rethink this generous gift of mine."

He passed the notepad back and she carefully wrote out, No one tried to hurt me. I tripped in the downstairs supply closet and everything fell on me.

"Bullshit," he commented after reading her reply. She raised a brow. Obviously, he didn't know the state of his supply closets or he would have believed her immediately. "Even if you don't know their names, Collins, just give me a description and I'll set 'em straight. They'll never even know it was you. I'll say it was an anonymous tip."

Collins rolled her eyes, took her notepad, and started for the storage closet. She made it about five feet before Negan caught at her elbow and pulled her to a stop, strong fingers pressing on one of the very bruises he had been so concerned about. His face made her pause. He was starting to get well and truly pissed, and she needed to tread lightly.

"You had better not be walking away from me," he rumbled, voice deep and rough. His fingers squeezed her elbow joint and she winced. When had she gotten so comfortable that she had forgotten the man's dangerous nature?

I'm not. Let me show you the supply closet. You'll believe me once you see it.

He read the pad and handed it back to her, still clearly unhappy. "Fine. Lead on."

She did, aware of his eyes on her back the entire journey down to the first floor and through the maze of hallways to the downstairs supply closet. She stopped in front of the door and Negan raised his eyebrows. "This is it?"

Frowning slightly, Collins nodded and Negan shrugged. "I can't know every square inch of this place. I'm just one guy. Show me."

She unlocked the door with the keys that were part of her uniform and stepped inside. Collins didn't go far into the room; she had learned her lesson from the avalanche. Negan, however, had no such experience, and strode boldly into the room, nearly knocking Collins off her feet.

"Shit!" he said, catching her around the waist and dragging her back against him. Collins patted his arm, waiting until he released her to switch on the overhead light. "Shi-iiit…" he repeated.

Collins had to agree with his assessment. The closet was nightmare material. The room was small enough that Collins could almost touch the walls if she stretched her arms out to either side, and yet it was packed with various chemicals, spray bottles, towels, brooms, mops, plungers, and other assorted mess. A small fill station and drain took up most of one corner, adding to the confused mess.

Negan stared around in disgust, nudging a broom with the toe of his boot. Just that small motion was enough to set off a small landslide of sponges, scrub brushes, and a squeegee. "I've changed my mind. I think you're damn lucky a fall in this closet didn't kill you."

And you didn't even see it before I scrubbed the mold off the walls.

When he read that, Negan's eyebrows came down even further. "Do all the closets look like this one?"

More or less. Some of the main-level closets are big enough that I sorted different supplies into different areas. Those ones look a bit more organized, but not by much.

"I see," Negan said slowly, actually looking as though he were thinking very hard about it. Collins hesitated before offering him the pad once more, but her sense of self-preservation shone through. He read it and immediately shook his head. "The overnight patrols stay."

She reached for the notepad again, but Negan held it up and away from her. "I believe you about falling, Collins, I really do, but some of the residents here will take advantage of the others if I don't show a certain presence. Don't think I haven't noticed your friend Jason eating half of your meals."

Collins tried again to reclaim her notepad, but Negan pretended he didn't know what she was reaching for. Huffing, she leaned back on her heels and mimed out, I wasn't hungry.

"Why do you sound like some fucking domestic abuse survivor trying to make excuses for her piece of shit husband?" Negan asked with a sigh. He tossed her the notebook. "Here, you earned this. And a day off. Don't report to work tomorrow. Just take some time to relax, okay? You look like hell."

With a final look at the closet, Negan left. A moment later, Collins did the same, returning to the dusting she had yet to complete. She had survived another encounter with Negan, but she could not bring herself to be happy about it. Two meetings in two days was a lot, especially when she was going to try to escape his compound in a little over a week.

Author's Note - Well, I promised more Negan in this chapter... Thank you for reading and please consider taking a moment to tell me what you thought. Thank you to those who have favorited this story and I'll see you next week!