They sat around the table with Negan at the head. Carl sat to his left and Anna at his right, with Olivia holding Judith beside her. Anna stared at her hands resting in her lap, her fingers twitching. They'd been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes.
"I'm not waiting for your dad anymore. I don't know where the hell he is, but Lucille is hungry." He tucked a napkin into the collar of his shirt "Carl, pass the rolls."
Carl looked to Negan.
"Please," Negan said impatiently.
Carl passed the rolls, and Negan took two before handing the basket to Anna. She took one and set it on her plate, then held it out for Olivia.
"Get some spaghetti," Negan insisted.
Anna leaned forward and dished herself a serving before reaching for Carl's plate. She served the teen and Olivia before sitting back down; Negan was watching her.
"Well?" He asked expectantly. "Are you waiting for me to say grace? Eat."
Anna rolled her eyes and they began to eat, their forks scraping against the plates. She hated to admit that the sauce was actually good. It didn't take long for her to finish, and she had to force herself not to go for seconds, folding her hands in her lap.
"Damn, that was good," Negan grinned, rubbing his stomach. "It's a hell of a lot better than what Daryl's been eating."
Anna's hands curled into fists.
"He's probably sick of those dog food sandwiches," Negan sighed.
"What?" Anna snapped, her skin heating with anger as Negan smirked at her.
"No."
Negan turned toward the front door before getting up and heading out. Anna pushed out of her chair and followed after him.
"I just want to talk to him," she heard Spencer insist.
"I said no," the woman stationed at the front steps snapped.
"Don't be an asshole, Arat," Negan said as he stepped out onto the porch. "Let the man pass."
Spencer brushed past Arat and took a couple of steps up before stopping.
"Oh, crap. Is that for me?" Negan asked, gesturing to the bottle of whiskey in Spencer's hands.
"We haven't officially met. I'm Spencer Monroe." Spencer said, holding out the bottle of whiskey. "Hi."
Anna stood just behind Spencer and Negan as they sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch. She poured the whiskey in a tumbler and handed it to Negan.
"Running water, air conditioning, a housewarming gift?" He asked, raising his glass as Anna readied a tumbler for Spencer. "That settles it. I am getting myself a vacation home here."
"Cheers to that," Spencer grinned as he took the glass from her.
Anna narrowed her eyes at him and his grin faltered a moment before he looked away and sipped on his whiskey.
"Oh, that is good," Negan hummed. "You know, the only thing missing is a pool table. Nothing better than a good game of eight ball."
"The house across the street has one in the garage," Spencer informed.
"Oh, Spencer, you may just be my new best friend," Negan laughed. "Such a nice day, though—too nice to be cooped up inside some garage, don't you think?" He glanced between Spencer and Anna. "Yeah, I got a better idea."
Negan got to his feet and headed down the steps.
"John, Tyreek, go in there and bring that pool table out here," he said, gesturing to the middle of the street.
The men he indicated jumped into action with a few others, and Negan stood in the street watching.
"What the hell are you doing?" Anna hissed.
"The right thing," Spencer said simply as he stood.
"The right thing is to kiss his ass?" Anna snapped.
"You'll see. This is the best thing for us," Spencer assured. "I'm doing what needs to be done."
With that, he turned and joined Negan in the street as the pool table was set up. The two grabbed sticks and readied themselves for the game.
"Anna, I need a refill," Negan called, dangling his empty glass in the air.
Anna sneered and made her way down the steps and over to him, pouring him more whiskey.
"I could never do this with Rick," Negan began, taking another sip of his whiskey before he leaned down and broke. "He would just be standing there, scowling, giving me that annoying side-eye he gives me."
"That's actually what I came to see you about," Spencer said as he took his turn. "I want to talk to you about Rick.'
"Alright," Negan said. "Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick." He took his turn.
"I get what you're trying to do here, what you're trying to build. I'm not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it," Spencer said, taking his turn when Negan missed his shot. "You're building a network. You're making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others."
Anna ground her teeth—she didn't think she could glare any harder at Spencer. She glanced around at the Alexandrians that had gathered to watch the game; Olivia and Carl stood on the porch overlooking them.
"Is that so?" Negan hummed as he readied for his turn.
"Rick wasn't the original leader here. My mom was," Spencer explained as he watched Negan sink a ball and line up for another shot. "She was doing a really good job of it. Then she died—not long after Rick showed up. Same with my brother, same with my dad."
"So, everything was peachy here for—what—years? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly you're an orphan?" Negan asked. "That is the saddest story I've ever heard. Good thing for you he's not in charge anymore."
"Doesn't matter," Spencer insisted. "His ego's out of control. He'll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That's what he did with my mom. That's what he'll do again."
"What exactly are you proposing be done about that?" Negan asked.
"I am my mother's son," Spencer shrugged. "I can be the leader she was. That's what this place needs. That's what you need."
"Eat shit," Anna muttered.
"So, I should put you in charge—that's what you're saying?" Negan asked.
"We'd be much better off," Spencer assured.
"You know, I'm thinking, Spencer," Negan began, straightening. "I'm thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts. But he is out there right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don't hurt any of the fine people that live here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done."
He chuckled as he walked around the pool table to stand in front of Spencer.
"That takes guts. And then there's you; the guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick's place."
Spencer's face fell.
"So, I got to ask – if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?" Negan asked.
"What? No, no. I didn't—I don't—" Spencer stammered.
"You know what I'm thinking?" Negan asked, leaning in. "'Cause I have a guess. It's because you got no guts."
Negan moved so quickly that it took a moment for Anna to register what had happened as she watched Spencer's insides pour out of him. She lost her grip on the bottle of whiskey, letting it fall to the ground and shatter.
"Oh!" Negan hollered. "Oh. How embarrassing. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong in my whole life!" Negan laughed, looking around at everyone. "Now, someone ought to get up here and clean this mess up. Oh. Anyone want to finish the game? C'mon. Anybody? Anna?" He asked, turning to her as he picked up and twirled Lucille. "C'mon. I was winning!"
A gunshot rang out and Anna jumped back, looking around frantically for the source only to see Rosita holding a gun. Arat tackled her to the ground, holding a knife to her throat.
"Shit!" Negan shouted, staring at the bullet lodged in the bat. "What the shit? Shit! You just—You tried to kill me! You shot Lucille!"
"She got in the way," Rosita sneered.
Negan crouched and picked up the bullet casing that had rolled to his feet, inspecting it.
"What is this?" He asked. "What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade," he determined, stepping closer to Rosita and Arat. "You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here. Arat, move that knife up out on that girl's face."
Arat moved her knife and held it just below Rosita's right eye.
"Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?" He yelled. "Unless—unless you tell me who made this."
"It was me. I made it," Rosita answered.
"You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now?" He growled. "Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face. One more try."
"It was me," Rosita hissed, lifting her head so that the knife pressed into her skin and blood dripped down her cheek.
"Oh! You are such a badass!" He laughed. "Fine. Have it your way. Arat— kill somebody."
Arat straightened, pulling her gun.
"No!" Anna shouted just as Arat pulled the trigger.
Olivia staggered back before collapsing to the ground. Anna turned to see Tobin attempting to push past a Savior. The other Alexandrians shifted uneasily, ready for a fight as the Saviors aimed their weapons.
"Tobin, back off," Anna demanded, taking a step toward him when she saw Rick pushing through the crowd.
"We had an agreement," Rick said as he approached Negan.
"Rick!" Negan cheered, his voice breaking. "Look, everybody, it's Rick. Ah, your people are making me lose my voice doin' all this yelling. Rick… how about a "thank you"? I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that, we're never gonna sit around and braid each other's hair or share our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am."
He pointed at Carl.
"Your kid – he hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound, and I fed him spaghetti," Negan said, grinning. "Another one of your people—well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out for you. And another one, here—" he pointed at Rosita, "she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her—that mouth did some major damage. Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat," He sighed "I don't know—didn't trust her."
Rick glared at him.
"Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go," he ground out.
"Sure thing, Rick," Negan smirked. "Right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet. Arat?"
Arat got to her feet and aimed her gun at Eric and a very beat up Aaron.
"It was me!" Tara shouted, stepping forward, and Arat turned on her.
"No, it wasn't," Eugene said into his hands.
He dropped his hands to his sides, visibly shaking.
"It was me. It was only me."
Negan approached him.
"You?" He asked.
"It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder—"
"Shut up," Negan said, interrupting Eugene's rambling. "I believe you."
He patted Eugene on the shoulder before turning and walking away from him, holding Lucille up.
"Lucille, give me strength," he implored. "I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick—" he sighed, turning to Rick. "That and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged, it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today. Let's move out!"
"No!" Rosita cried as a couple of Saviors shoved Eugene toward the front gate. "No, no! Please, just take me!" She pleaded.
"Rick, I ain't gonna lie—your kitchen is a goddamn mess," Negan chuckled. "I'll see you next time," he said as he turned and walked away before pausing beside Anna. "I'll tell Daryl you said hi."
Anna clenched her fists at her sides but said nothing as she turned on her heel and stalked towards home. She could hear him laughing behind her.
Anna sat back in the office chair, staring at the finished files of Olivia and Spencer. As soon as she returned home, Anna had set to work, and she was now putting Spencer's interview on CD; Olivia's disc was already in its case on the desk. The realization that neither of them had any loved ones left behind gave her pause.
She spun her chair around to stare out the window and watched as the sun slowly set, hearing the faint pop of the disc tray opening.
Who were these CDs even for?
Absently, she picked the CD out of the tray and held it in her hands. There was no one for her to give these to and no one to listen to them. So, what was the point of even making them? She considered deleting the interviews off the CDs, but as the thought crossed her mind, she felt ashamed.
Olivia was kind and—although he had his faults—Spencer had good intentions. They didn't deserve to be forgotten or deleted.
Anna placed Spencer's CD in its case, writing his name on the front before tucking both in their respective files and taking them to the shelf where she kept all of the deceased files. She hated to see it slowly filling up. She slid Spencer's folder in beside the rest of the Monroe family and Olivia's at the end of the row.
If no one else was around to remember them, then she would.
She returned to the desk and sat down, turning on the lamp now that the sun no longer shined through the window. At the corner of the desk, two untouched files caught her attention and she could just make out the carefully printed names. Jessie must have moved them to the desk.
Anna slowly pulled them closer. There was still work to be done and people to make CDs for. She pulled a drawer open and fished out three blank CDs, popping the first one into the laptop before she found the correct files.
After formatting the CD, Anna set the laptop to work and turned back to the desk, opening the first file before she could talk herself out of it.
Abraham Ford.
Picking up her pen, Anna flipped to the first blank page. She hesitated a moment, her pen hovering over the page. The two didn't speak much, and on those rare occasions they did interact, they were typically at odds. But, Anna had admired his way of approaching the end of the world with full intention of making the apocalypse his bitch.
"Suck… my… nuts."
Anna couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, her eyes tearing up at the memory of his death. It seemed only fitting that he would say such a thing in his final moments. and she could only hope her last words would be as memorable.
So, that's what she wrote.
The disc tray popped open and Anna placed the CD in its case, writing out his name on the cover and tucking it into his file.
After making a second CD for Abraham, she started the third CD and opened Glenn's file. Her grip on her pen tightened and a tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped the tear away and sucked in a breath, pressing the pen to the page. Anna let herself think about him, from that day in Atlanta to that day on perimeter watch. He was a good man. He was her friend. Her family. And he was gone.
Because of Negan.
He'd taken Glenn from her—taken him from Maggie. He'd taken Daryl from her and taunted her with it.
Anna slammed her fist against the desk, her other hand gripping her knee.
There was a knock at the open door and Anna looked up to see Rick staring at her, seeming unsure.
"What—what happened today—" Rick began, stepping into the room. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
She said nothing.
"Spencer and Olivia—it wasn't your fault," he insisted.
"No, it wasn't," she said, her voice clipped.
Rick nodded slowly.
"We're gonna fight them," he said.
Anna stood and leveled Rick with a hard stare.
"Good."