Die For You

Previously…

I must have fallen asleep because it was dark when I opened my eyes. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end; I wasn't alone. In one swift motion, I sat up and threw one of my knives towards the figure sitting in the armchair by the door. I purposely embedded the blade just above the person's head.

"Hot damn." a deep voice chuckled. My breath caught. Negan.

Chapter 2

"You are one hell of a woman, Roz." Negan murmured, standing up. He removed the knife from the wall and studied it. "You got an aversion to guns or something?"

"Guns jam." I answered, sliding out of bed. He offered the knife to me, and I contemplated simply plunging the blade into his chest before returning it to my belt.

Negan barked a laugh, "That they do." He took a quick breath. "You hungry?"

I regarded him for a moment. I hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before, we were too preoccupied getting Maggie to the Hilltop to stop for lunch. Please let her be safe I thought. I nodded, taking the knife from him and placing it back in my belt.

"Shall we?" He smirked, ushering me out of the room into the hallway. He led the way down the hall to his private quarters. This time the room was empty, not a beautiful woman in sight. A small table had been set for two, candlelight swathing the walls in shadow and intrigue.

Negan held out a chair for me and I slid into it stiffly, trying to retain my composure. As much as I wanted to get close to him, I was hoping I could become of use tactically, not just for my physical charms. He settled in the chair opposite of me and took the lids off our plates, revealing a welcome spread of meat and vegetables. He picked up a knife and fork and hacked off a piece of chicken and ate it. I guess that's my cue to dig in as well. So I took a deep breath and began eating the meal set before me, trying to remain calm.

"So Roz," Negan began after swallowing his first bite. "How does a beautiful, capable woman such as yourself become a part of Rick's little ragtag group of sorry shits?"

I swallowed the meat I was chewing, taking a swig of the wine that had been poured. Not bad. My mind whirled to where I could start my story. Might as well start from the beginning. "Hmmm. Well, I guess it all started at the prison where I worked before the world went to hell."

West Georgia Correctional Facility

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick, presumably the leader of the group asked me at gunpoint. I guess they weren't expecting to find someone alive within the prison walls. This was not the way I wanted to end my week and a half long hunting trip.

Walkers? My mind reeled. Oh, he probably meant the walking dead. "At least a hundred." I sighed. "Probably more."

He nodded. "How many people have you killed?"

People? I was a cop, and ex military so I'd to crossed that line way before the world went to hell. "Look, I'm ex military and I was a cop so…" I trailed off in explanation. Rick and the man carrying a crossbow exchanged a look. I took a breath, "Since this shitstorm?" I offered. "Six."

Rick sighed. "Why?" He asked, eyes wide and searching.

I bit my lip. I could lie. I could say it was during the riot, but in all reality I had been tasked with getting the prisoners to safety, not killing them. I cleared my throat against the emotion welling up in my chest. I looked up first at Rick, then the other man. "They tried to rape me." The man's eyes bore into mine as if he was trying to read if I was being truthful or not. I shrugged. "They deserved it," I scoffed, "bastards." The man who was staring me down smirked, a new light forming in his blue eyes. I choked back a gasp as heat rose in my face. I looked away, back at Rick before a blush could form on my cheeks. What the hell was that?

Rick's eyes softened at my confession, lowering his weapon. "I'm sorry." He murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder. He shared another look with the blue eyed man.

"Shit." I hissed through clenched teeth, clutching my ribs. With Rick's pressure on my shoulder, the gunshot wound on my side was giving me more trouble than I originally calculated. The injury had slowed me down more than I wanted to admit. I was usually only gone from the prison for a few days at a time, but this time it was over a week. It was just a graze, but I definitely needed to get myself patched up. I glanced down to see blood seeping through my makeshift field bandage. Shit was right. The adrenaline of hightailing back to the prison must be wearing off too, I could feel myself begin to slide towards the floor.

Blue eyes rushed forward at the sight, pulling my arm over his neck for support. "I gotcha." He drawled softly, "Get Hershel." He told Rick, guiding me over to the cell block door as the leader quickly unlocked it. My eyes fluttered closed and I stumbled trying to keep my footing. "Stay with me."

I'd just come back from a hunt to find Cell Block C occupied, Somewhat to my relief, it was the living, not the dead. All I wanted was to clean up and sleep. But sure, blue eyes, anything for your sweet ass. "I'm here." I murmured through clenched teeth. That adrenaline rush was definitely wearing off and shock was beginning to set in.

He maneuvered us towards Rick and an older man on crutches, lower half of his right leg missing. I guessed this was Hershel. The men were standing in the first cell. My hand shot out to hold us back from entering it. "Not sleeping in a cage, Chief." I protested, pushing back, my bleary eyes locking with Rick's. "Prefer not to die in one, either."

Blue eyes smirked and I could feel the vibrations of his chuckle rumbled up from his stomach to his throat. Rick shrugged looking slightly amused. "Alright." He drawled, shifting his support so now he had me cradled against his chest, carrying me down the cell block bridal style. My eyes shot wide at the shift in support and I clutched at his leather vest. "There, that'll get your blood pumping, eh?" He teased. Up the small staircase we went, to the guardpost. I'd been bunking here since I began working at the prison two years ago. Old habits die hard I guess.

Rick and Hershel followed and after blue eyes deposited me on the cot, he stepped back and allowed the older man to set aside his crutches and begin inspecting my wound. I drifted, listening to the older man fuss over my injury. A young blonde woman entered the room carrying with her a bucket and a clean cloth. Blue eyes had disappeared much to my disappointment. I was hoping to at least learn his name before the blackness claimed me.

"Hi," The young woman said sweetly. "I'm Beth."

I mirrored her kind smile, "Rosalind." I offered, my breath hitching at the feeling of metal sliding into my skin. Stitches. Aw hell, that meant I was going to have another kick ass scar. Just peachy.

"This is my daddy, Hershel." She continued to speak, I could tell she was trying to keep me conscious. "That's-"

"Rick." I said, locking eyes with the leader over her shoulder.

She nodded. "And that's Daryl."

Ah. Blue eyes was back, hovering over her right shoulder. Daryl. Nice a name as any, suited him well. "Thank you." I whispered, blinking up at him. He nodded, eyes unreadable.

"Looks like just a graze, but the wound was deep and too long to leave unstitched my dear." Hershel explained. "This might hurt." He flashed a small light in my eyes.

"Fuck, Doc." I swore, my hand coming up to shield my eyes. "Careful where you're flashing that thing." The light was small, but it hurt like hell.

"Looks like you've hit your head, too." He smiled sadly. "Not to worry, we'll have you back on your feet in no time." He smoothed a clean bandage over my freshly stitched wound, taping it to secure it. "I need you to lean up on your elbows dear so we can give more support to your ribs."

I nodded, taking a shallow breath, slowly easing myself into position, arms shaking with the effort. My ribs complained painfully and I slipped backwards. Daryl sank to his knees as Beth moved away from the cot, his left arm bracing my shoulders. His right helped the doc wrap a bandage around my ribs to give them extra support. I made the mistake of turning my head towards Daryl's. His mouth was dangerously close to mine, his breathing steady, eyes focused on the bandage, not my exposed chest. "Enjoying the view, blue eyes?" I teased, feeling my stomach lurch. I knew the concussion and broken bones were to blame for my nausea, but his sudden nearness also had my body buzzing.

Daryl scoffed in response, his eyes finding mine. Suddenly it was too much and my stomach threatened to empty itself all over my new friends. "Easy does it." He chuckled as I pursed my lips, willing my stomach into submission, chest heaving. Maybe he was oblivious to the connection I was feeling. Maybe I was just delusional and I was making a fucking fool of myself.

"All set." Hershel announced, giving my bandage one last pat. Daryl moved away slowly, helping me ease back down onto the pillows. "Now, Rosalind." Hershel sat on the end of the bed to speak with me. "The bullet cracked and chipped your lowest left rib, which is why it hurts like hell and you're nauseous." He sighed, "Broken bones will do that. I also suspect you may have hit your head or a you suffered a blow that caused a mild concussion as indicated by your reaction to light." He patted my hand. "You have to stay awake for the next hour so I can monitor you, don't want you slipping into a coma." I swallowed hard, I knew he was speaking simply to soften the blow, but it still struck me hard that I was in worse shape than I wanted to admit. He smiled gently, "Just take it easy and we'll have you good as new, dear." He turned to Beth. "Help her get cleaned up, Bethie."

The men left the room and Beth gently helped me clean up. She took off my boots and didn't even remark about the 8 inch bowie knife I carried in the left one. She just set them underneath where Rick had hung my weapons belt full of throwing knives and went about her business. She didn't prattle on or try to find out what happened.

"Your father, what-" I started to ask.

"Got bit." Beth shrugged. "Happened right after we got here." She sighed, "He's doing really good."

Holy shit these people were incredible. Here I was broken and bleeding, being tended by a man who'd just had his leg amputated. This was all becoming too much.

After she helped me put on a fresh top, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Once you're ready to talk about it, I'm ready to listen." How could I argue with that?

"Thank you." I murmured, trying to communicate how thankful I really was. This was a strong group of people, they could have just thrown me out on my ass, instead they risked their own safety and helped me.

"Daddy and I will take turns checking on you." Beth informed me, "So relax, and I'll be back soon." She picked up the now almost black looking bucket of water and swept from the room.

I let the go of sob I'd been holding in once I was alone in the room. I regretted the harsh movement in my chest immediately, my ribs protesting painfully. I covered my face with my hands and tried to calm myself down. It was all too much. All the training, all the preparation in the world hadn't prepared me for how helpless I felt in that moment. I suddenly felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was no longer alone. I quickly wiped my eyes and swallowed my tears, clearing my throat. I looked up to see Daryl standing in the doorway, holding a plate and a bottle of water.

I gave him a weak smile, unable to quell the tears welling up in my eyes. God dammit. I wanted for this man to see me as an equal, worthy of belonging with the group, not as some weak ass woman incapable of holding her emotions in check. He cleared his throat, offering the plate and water to me before settling on the cot opposite mine.

I nodded my thanks and took a bite of sandwich. I chewed slowly, even though I was famished, trying to not upset my stomach any further.

He sat cross legged on the edge of the bed, picking at the dirt under his nails, watching me through his hair. Suddenly he palmed the back of his neck, "Uh, Rick asked me to watch over ya." He drawled, rubbing at his jaw. "And, I'm already bunking up here anyways, so…" He shrugged, biting his thumbnail. Ah. That was why he found my refusal to sleep in a cell amusing. He agreed with me.

I swallowed. How was I supposed to relax with him three feet from me, let alone sleep? I took another bite and chewed that slowly too, trying to buy a little time to process his confession. Rick probably wanted eyes on me, even if I was incapacitated at the moment for security's sake. They were discussing how to deal with my arrival just before discovering my bullet wound. "Makes sense." I answered, my voice barely audible. I definitely needed water. I took a long drag of the bottle. Oh, that felt good.

Daryl looked up sharply at the sound of my voice, concern etched into his features. Before he could say anything Beth returned with some pain medication and more water.

"Thank you Daryl." She smiled at the gruff man. He nodded, looking awkwardly away. "Here," She held out two white pills to me. "We need to manage your pain, can't have you catching pneumonia." She smiled warmly as I took and swallowed the pills with the help of my water bottle.

"Good plan." I murmured, taking another bite of the sandwich. My breathing was still pretty shallow, which told me she was right. I needed to suck up the pain and start breathing deeper or we'd have a whole nother set of shit to deal with.

"What would you say your pain is on a scale from one to ten?" Hershel asked from the doorway, the good doctor was back. I kinda felt bad for making him climb stairs in his new state.

I pursed my lips. If I was honest they might not let me go to sleep. I handed the now empty plate to Beth. "Six or a seven." I croaked, realizing it was my shallow breathing instead of my throat that was causing my voice to break. Daryl's eyes squinted again, like he didn't believe me, his lips pressed into a grim line.

Hershel nodded. "Those pain meds should kick in within the next half hour. If they don't, please send Daryl down to see me for somethin' stronger." He sighed. "You've eaten, and as long as you think you can keep it down, I think you're safe to get some shut eye." He smiled and nodded at Daryl. "Let me know if anything changes."

"Goodnight Rosalind. Sweet dreams." Beth said softly before standing up and following her father out the door.

I slowly sat up, Daryl's blue eyes watching me with curiosity. "Y'all missed one." I grimaced, pulling out the knife that I kept tucked in a holster I wore on my hips, under my pants. It was my last line of defense, if I ran out of weapons, I had this one to make a final stand. I set the knife on the bed next to me and unbuckled the belt, pulling it off. I sheathed the knife and held it out for Daryl to take. He stood up and took the belt and hung it up with the rest of my weapons, then returned to sit opposite me. The cots were closer together than usual because mine was pulled away from the wall so Hershel could get to my left side. "Thank you." I whispered, trying to get my breathing to slow down. I shoved the panic I felt rising in my chest back down with grunt, taking my first deep breath. I yelped in pain, my hand shooting out to grip Daryl's forearm, my knuckles turning white.

"Easy there," Daryl murmured, recognizing my panic. "C'mon." He encouraged, "You gotta slow down." He placed his free hand on my shoulder, drawing my gaze to his own. He bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something. Suddenly he stood up, toeing off his boots and shrugging off his leather vest. "I'm gonna sit behind ya, give you something to match your breathing to." He scoffed. "Can't have ya hyperventilatin' ta death."

Sanctuary

"Whoa, whoa," Negan put up his hand. "Hold on a minute." He bit his lip. "This isn't going to get freaky now is it?" He looked almost hopeful. Like I would tell him all the gory details even if it did.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat. "Yeah, cause being totally incapacitated really gets my engine revving." I rolled my eyes, polishing off my glass of wine.

Negan threw his head back and laughed. "Touche." He stood up to refill my glass. We'd finished eating and were lingering at the table. "Shall we?" He gestured to the couch with my refilled glass.

I shrugged, standing up from my chair. I followed him over to the couch and sat down next to him, not quite touching. I was close enough that he could stretch his arm comfortably across the back of the couch behind me. He handed me back my glass.

"Now I know you were incapacitated," He drawled, eyes twinkling. "But you can't tell me dear Daryl kept his hands off a hot little thing like you."

I recognized the predatory look he gave me in that moment. I knew I was navigating a slippery slope. "Well, uh," I bit my lip, "Daryl isn't the kind of guy to just throw a girl up against a tree in the moonlight and have his way with her." I chuckled with a little shrug.

Negan smirked, "You okay with that?" His voice was velvet in the darkness.

I couldn't stop the blush that rose up my neck and settled on my cheeks. "If I tell you, I'll spoil the story."

Negan chuckled darkly, taking a sip from his glass.

I set my half empty glass down on the coffee table. "Now, shut your trap and listen."

Dearest Readers,

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Thank you for reading,

xoxo

Lumora The White