A/N Finally, we've arrived! So I've had this chapter done for a few months and I've been harboring this huge secret that I'm glad to get off my chest.

Passing out on that pavement for however many hours has royally fucked me. I'm so fucking thirsty, I'm debating drinking my own, well, I won't go there. Things are looking pretty cocksucking bleak at this point. I've been traveling down this highway like the smaller now individual signs say, but there's nothing in fucking sight. The moment I know I've lost it is when I hear quacking noises. Not from an actual duck, but from a toy duck. I glance over my shoulder to the most unlikely of scenarios.

"Hi," the small voice greets, big brown eyes behind even bigger lopsided glasses.

My eyes travel down her arm to see that she's tugging some kind of duck toy on a string. As it rolls, it makes the quacking noise.

She reaches up to me and then starts opening and closing her hand like she wants to touch something on my face.

I humor her and bend down.

Her finger pokes my chin. "Like mine."

"It's called a cleft chin." This is ironic considering I just happened to shave my beard the night that tornado hit the house.

"Why lie? Call it what it is."

"And what's that?"

"Ass chin."

The… fuck? Did she just say ass? "Nice observation, four-eyes."

"Lucky for me because I just take my glasses off and don't have to look at your ugly ass face!"

I blink several times in disbelief. "I just got my ass handed to me by a five-year-old in diapers."

"How long did you wear diapers for? I stopped almost four years ago."

"I'm being a smart ass."

"More like a stupid ass."

"People find me very funny I'll have you fucking know."

The child has no more time for me and walks on ahead.

Why is a fucking kid alone in—

"Turn around... slowly," a husky voice threatens.

Fuck. This is actually a big motherfucker. Like my size big motherfucker. He's not even bothering with his gun. Guess when you're huge fuckers like us, you really don't need weapons to intimidate one person.

"What are you doing here?"

I know I said I wanted to be alone, but now I'm having second thoughts. "I lost everything in that storm. I'm too old… too tired to start over again so I was following the signs."

"You can come back with us, but you'll need to prove that you're worthy to stay."

"That I'm worthy?"

"Yes. Our leader decides who stays and who goes depending on their worth."

Sounds like a fucking cult. It wouldn't hurt to get something to eat and have a good night's sleep. Now I understand the are you worthy signs. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"We're not far. You can hydrate there."

"Before I'm turned away?"

"Already so certain about his fate. Hmm. Maybe I should leave you here." The man takes the lead as the small child skips behind him.

I follow after him even though it's probably a mistake.

The miles become more and more difficult. Fuck. I don't want to die like this. The trees start to thin and it gives me hope. Until... I think I'm having a heat stroke or something. Where the fuck is that fucking music coming from? Wait, I recognize this song. It's John Denver. I just can't recall from where I recognize it.

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong.

Yeah… these people are going to kill me. Or eat me. And watch, they'll serve me with beans as a final fuck you.

In the middle of the road, there's a small crowd of undead. They are distracted by the music which is coming from an old record player encased by a steel cage so the undead can't actually get to it.

"This one has a plastic leg," the small girl tells the brute.

"Prosthetic. Get back," he warns her as he starts driving his knife into the heads of the undead.

I guess I get it now, and my stomach is a little more at ease. Not only does the sound keep the undead from their camp, but they're able to scavenge things from them. I frown thinking about the time Vin and I went looking for her glasses.

"Bull." The girl tugs on the side of his jeans then hoists the duck up to him.

He kneels down and shows her how a rock got lodged in the duck's tracks.

Watching this gargantuan fix a toy for the child assures me that this group isn't something to fear. So I guess it's safe to say that I'm the only monster here.

"Hey," Bull calls back at me. "Let's go. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I already did." At least I know this fucker can carry me if I do. But I don't, and we finally arrive. They must have tampered with the signs or something because there's no way it was four miles from when I passed out to this point. More like eight. That's good though. Smart. Fuck only knows that not a lot of fucks are smart these days.

"Do you have any weapons in your bag?"

"Just my knife." I open it up to show Bull.

He gestures his arm out. "Welcome home. Temporarily."

There's this iron inscription above their gates.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

I definitely agree. I'd be dead if not for these people. When the gates open, I hear the sounds of children. See people doing laundry. Smell the faint aroma of food. They've fortified a motel with thick iron and steel panels that surround it. There are only a few ways in. The main gates. An exit door behind the motel. Over the twelve foot walls. Or a hatch that was put in and a tunnel is dug out to the other side. The pool has been turned into a small water reservoir, as well as a greenhouse.

The child with the duck speeds past me and to one of the rooms.

"What's your name?"

There's that familiar feeling of wanting to lie again. If word has spread about the things I've done this far out, I'll just take it as it's meant to be. "Negan," I tell Bull.

Bull seems like there's something more he wants to ask, but instead leads the way. "Let me show you around. I imagine it's a lot to take in."

"Does this mean I'm worthy?"

"I don't decide that. But everyone gets the same tour. This is a good way for us to find out a lot about you too. Your response and mannerisms to everything. So here we have it. Everyone gets a motel room, though you'll be doubling up with someone because we don't have enough rooms for everyone. Or, if you choose, you can sleep outside. Some of the members have set up a sleeping area over there in the grass."

Fuck. This is a really big community. There are twenty rooms on top and twenty on the bottom. Six tents are on the grass. That's a minimum of forty people if Bull said they were doubled up, plus the ones in the tents.

"Enzo, Lyle." Bull motions for two younger men to come his way. "Clearing and rummage duty, out by the box."

"Yes, Sir," they respond.

"Sir," I scoff. "Thought you weren't in charge?"

Bull folds his arms across his wide chest. "I'm a right-hand man so to speak. Besides, people tend to respect another person when they're our size."

Good point. "If I stay, what kind of job would someone like me get?"

"We'll go over job duties later if you're allowed to stay. Let's finish the tour." He points at their parking lot which is busy with activity. "You'll also get half a parking lot spot to set up a small stand. You can sell things to other members. We use these carnival tickets as currency because they're not easily scavenged."

Well, points can't be scavenged period. Then again, having something tangible as compensation psychologically makes you work a little harder because we are greedy by nature. Alright, I guess that's a good idea, too. Goddammit.

I see all kinds of banners above stands set up in the parking lots. Massage. Someone does caricatures. A fortune teller? What the fuck? People actually pay for that? I see a stand with some painted sign poking out of the top. "Bean Queen?"

"Yes. She makes gourmet meals with just beans."

God, if I never eat beans again it will be too soon. Pass. "I'm allergic," I lie.

"Well, we have the Jell-O Fell-O , too."

"The Jell… are you fucking with me? What is this place?" This must be a goddamn dream. I'm probably still back there passed out on the highway. "You people know the world ended, right?"

"We are very well aware."

I turn around to the voice as my hostility curves instantly. "Vin…" My eyes well up. God, she… she is even more beautiful than I remember. "I found you."

She adjusts wire-framed glasses I've never seen before. "I wasn't lost." She looks grown up as fuck.

"Can we talk?"

"You remember Ass Destroyer, right?"

I take a step back when I see the serrated blade at her side. "Please. I've been looking for you for six goddamn years. Five minutes."

"One."

I see she hasn't lost that smart mouth. "I'll take it."

"You know, I have to say I'm impressed you found me despite all the time you spend stealing from other communities. I figured that consumes a large chunk of the day."

"Christ, Vin, please. I fucked up."

"That's one I haven't heard before. So, you've come to steal from us, too? Demand tribute?"

"It wasn't like that. We… we protected people. In return, they gave us supplies."

"Yeah? They gave them to you? You forced that on them! Out of anyone, Negan, you should know better with what we saw with Salvation Sixty Six."

"I know," I shout. "I went about it the wrong goddamn way, but I did it for you. So I could give you—"

"When I left Sanctuary, did it stop?"

"...no."

"Then it wasn't for me. You selfish shit!"

"And I spent the last three years in jail because of it! I know it was fucked up, but I swear to Christ I only did it to give you a better life. Did it stop when you left? No. Because, at that point, I didn't give a fuck how far I had fallen. Vin, I'm not a good man. I lied to you for months about being married, I fucking cheated on my dying wife, I smashed a kid's brains in, I gutted another one. Fuck! I've done so many fucked up things… I've been on my own for the last year. I'm forty-three years old and don't have a goddamn thing to show for it except for a scarf and the picture of the woman who gave it to me."

"Where's Lucille?"

"She… the bat broke. I buried it, and closed that chapter."

"How do you have a picture of me?"

"That's really what you want to know?!"

"Your minute was up a long time ago, shitter."

I sigh at that fucking name. "You were in the paper for your efforts on helping the homeless. I cut your picture out and put it in my wallet. It's been with me ever since. Vin, you have to convince your leader that I'm worthy."

"Do you really think I'm the best person for that job?"

"No," I frown. "Let me talk to him. Please, even if I have to prove myself every fucking day, I will."

"I am the leader, Negan."

Oh... I am so fucked. Yet, despite the anger, there's a sadness in her eyes. I know that look because it's the same one I have.

That we've both lost so much time together.

That we don't know how we got here.

That despite everything, we both are very much relieved to see each other.

"I went to Sanctuary a few years ago."

My knees become weak hearing this. Knowing that she just needed some time apart.

"I almost didn't recognize it without the undead chained to it. I spoke to a woman there, but she said you left and that you wouldn't be returning."

"It's a fucking… long story," I frown. To think we probably just missed each other. "You didn't come back to kill me, did you?"

"No, Negan. I was angry back in Alexandria, and I'm sorr—"

"Don't please, Christ. This is my fuck up, Vin." It's just like her to apologize when I'm the one in the wrong. There's not a day that goes by where I haven't wanted to see this woman again, but it is a painful fucking reminder of how much I've hurt her. "It was wrong of me to keep you locked up and away from everything. Every day it felt like I was making an even worse decision than the one before and it all got so fucking far out of hand that I didn't know what to do." I take a deep breath to prepare myself for her answer. "Why come back to Sanctuary?"

"Follow me."

I start to wonder who all is here. How many people who were former Saviors that would love to see me dead. Or used as some kind of undead bait outside.

"There's something I want to show you." She opens her motel room door and the little girl with the big glasses that I met when I first came here appears. I already know the girl is Vin's, but inquire about her even though I can't deal with knowing the father is Niko.

"She's mine," Vin says, running her hand through the child's blonde hair. "Well, she's ours, Negan."