With the ping pong ball clutched tightly in my hand, I marched down the hall towards Negan's room. Barging in, I pushed the door a little too hard and it banged against the wall with a thud. Negan was still awake and staring at me alarmed as I closed the door behind me and then turned on him.

"What the hell is this?" I held the ping pong ball up in front of his face between my thumb and forefinger. He stared at the ball and then looked up at me.

"It's a ping pong ball," he deadpanned.

"No shit it's a ping pong ball. It's the ping pong ball I gave you! Why the hell do you have it?"

Negan's brow furrowed as he studied my face and then his expression almost seemed to soften. He chuckled and leaned back, shaking his head as if dismissing my outburst.

"Cut the shit, Negan. Why the fuck are you carrying this around in your jacket?" I stood before him confused and angry. I didn't understand why he still had the stupid ball. I had given him the ping pong ball as a gesture of goodwill, and if he was going to hold it over my head, he had another thing coming.

I opened my mouth to cuss him out when he cut me off.

"It's a good memory."

My forehead knit together in confusion, and before I could react, Negan's hand swiped the ping pong ball from between my fingers. I watched as he clutched the ball into his fist and he looked off into the room.

"It was back when things were good… Manageable. Back before that bastard cut you up… Back when I thought I could convince you to come live at the Sanctuary…. Back when I realized I finally had someone to care about again."

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, not able to look at him anymore. I don't know what I expected coming to him and calling him out about keeping the ball, but I hadn't expected this. Negan's rare moments of honesty always seemed to catch me off guard, and I shook my head in denial.

"Negan, don't…"

I felt his hand reach up to caress the side of my face and I opened my eyes to find him staring right at me.

"I never want to see you get hurt like that again." His voice was quiet, but he said the words with such conviction that I felt my eyes start to water. He was still apologizing to me in his own way—for when he said he should have left me with Caleb.

His hand left my cheek and he smiled a bit. I turned away and cleared my throat. If he was going to apologize again, I needed to take the opportunity to do the same. It had been weeks since our ugly fight, but not a single day had gone by where I hadn't regretted saying those horrible things to him. I used his late wife against him, and that had been wrong.

"I'm sorry about what I said about Lucille. I know how much she meant to you. I was wrong to bring her up. I was angry, and I didn't understand why you were bringing me home. I still don't understand why you brought me back."

We were getting better at opening up to one another. It didn't feel forced, and instead, felt like such a relief to give him a sincere apology and to know he hadn't wanted to leave me with Caleb. But I was still so confused. We had gotten so close, and then he brought me back to Doveport. Negan effectively put an end to our growing connection, and I needed to know why.

Negan sighed heavily and looked down at the ping pong ball in his hand.

"You're my weakness, Elle. You're the one thing my enemies can use against me."

His weakness?

I frowned at the word.

"Derek would never hurt me," I argued.

Negan shook his head. "I have a fuck ton of enemies. There are people at the Sanctuary who would love to see me dead. I could never forgive myself if they hurt you."

Suddenly it all made sense—his sudden coldness, why he kept trying to push me away… He brought me home because he was trying to protect me. Putting distance between us was his way of trying to keep me safe.

"But you came back." My voice cracked as I spoke, and then I felt his hand on mine. He placed the ping pong ball back into my palm.

"Cause I can never stay away." He closed my hand around the tiny sphere and encompassed my hand with his. "I hate waking up every day and you're not there. I hate how fucking weak you make me feel, but in the end, I always come back to you."

A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I held my breath, taking in everything he was telling me. Turning my head and pulling my hand away from his, I wiped at my face and tried to collect myself.

I didn't know what to say to him.

I didn't know what to think.

Negan slowly leaned up and pulled me towards him. I sat down on the bed as he brushed his thumb underneath my eyes, clearing away some tears. Then his lips found mine in a gentle, comforting kiss. I closed my eyes and embraced the feeling of his mouth on mine, and reached out to place a hand on his bare chest, careful not to disturb his wound.

As we kissed, my mind was running a mile a minute. I never thought I'd see him open up so much, but perhaps this brush with death had really shaken him. I could feel a desperation in the way he kissed me—like he was afraid to let me go.

When I pulled away, I found him staring at my lips transfixed. I stood up from the bed, wide-eyed and bemused.

Words were failing me.

"Elle…" Negan started to speak, but I headed towards the door.

"I'll get your jacket cleaned up, but I can't save your shirt." It was my lame attempt at changing the conversation. There was an awkwardness that hung in the air as once again I tried to put distance between us.

Not waiting for him to respond, I quickly hurried out of the room. The ping pong ball was still squeezed tightly in my fist.

I knew I couldn't run forever, but I felt this deep-seated fear building up inside me.

He had opened up to me.

So why couldn't I do the same?

That same night, I was laying in bed unable to sleep. I knew it had to be late, but I couldn't relax. I continued to think about what Negan had said.

I was his weakness.

It almost sounded like it should be an insult, but somehow it made me feel important. He didn't seem like the type of man to have any vulnerabilities. I had always seen him as this invincible, unstoppable force. But I made him vulnerable. I was his kryptonite, and in some strange way, he was mine. We seemed to cause more problems for the other than anything else, but like some kind of magnetic force, we were always drawn back to each other.

Moonlight barely illuminated the room as I stared at the ping pong ball that was sitting on my nightstand and thought about how Negan was carrying it on him. I didn't think he would be the sentimental type, but he did name a baseball bat after his late wife. I chuckled to myself at the idea of having sports equipment named after me.

Then I thought about that day I had won my prize—I had beat him in finding the ping pong ball and earned Doveport a reprieve. He had brought me a BLT and seemed so relaxed. It was unlike any other time I'd seen him. He let his guard down with me, and I remembered racing down the aisles looking for the lost ball, feeling excited and carefree.

Negan was right—it was a good memory.

I was reminiscing the date when I heard my door start to slowly open. Glancing up and squinting in the dark, I watched as a figure entered my room. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to figure out who it was and just prayed it wasn't another hallucination. I hadn't seen any ghosts for weeks, and wanted to keep it that way.

"Negan?" I asked quietly, barely able to make out his features from what little light was shining through the window. I reached up and turned on a lamp that was next to my bed, flooding a small area of the room in orange light.

He didn't say anything and came over to where I was in bed. I sat up confused as he began to crawl in next to me. I moved over to make room, and he grunted a bit as if he was in pain, but continued to slide onto the mattress. I felt my cheeks heat up at the realization I was only wearing a long t-shirt I used as a nightgown and nothing else. I hadn't exactly been expecting company.

"Negan?" I whispered again, sitting up on my side and staring at him. He was only wearing his boxers and I felt his bare leg touch mine. "What are you doing?"

Once he was settled, he took a deep breath and then answered me.

"Guess I missed my bed buddy."

I was silent at first, and then I couldn't help but giggle. I felt nervous being so close to him again, but I wasn't afraid. I was worried what the others would think, and if he should really be visiting me late into the night when he should be resting. I remembered the night before he brought me back to Doveport, when I had crept into his bed. Now he was in mine.

We stared up at the ceiling in silence for a few long moments, and I had no idea what to say. Chancing a look, I glanced over to find him staring at me as if in fascination. Then he reached up to lightly drag his fingers over my lips, and I felt like I could melt under his touch.

He leaned over me and began pressing soft kisses all along my face and neck. My chest was rising up and down as he left invisible marks with each peck. I shuddered as he came to the base of my neck and then he sat up to look at me.

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop. Make me stop, Elle."

We stared into each other's eyes and I held my breath. He was putting the ball into my court—giving me control with what came next. He wasn't begging me to stop, he was letting me know that if this wasn't what I wanted, he would put an end to this.

But I didn't want it to end.

We were both so hesitant about pursuing these feelings—both so afraid to open up to each other, but it happened regardless. I was always pulling away from him—always trying to create some distance for the sake of saving face.

But I had almost lost him.

And I was done running away.

Sitting up with him, I wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him into me, pressing my lips against his in a deep kiss. Positioning himself over me, Negan winced as he braced his arm on the mattress. I frowned as he closed his eyes, clearly in pain. I didn't want him to hurt himself just for the sake of being intimate, but he was determined. I watched as he reached down to remove his boxers and then tossed them onto the floor by the bed. I stared up at him and bit my lip in anticipation.

I wanted this. I wanted this for a long time. And if we were going to do this, I didn't want to hurt him.

Hooking my leg over his thigh, I pulled him over so he was on his back and I moved to be on top of him. I grinned down at him, blushing deep as I took control. I leaned over him to press another kiss to his lips when my hand brushed against the gunshot wound and he jolted in pain.

"Oh god, I am so sorry!" I sat up away from his body and stared down at him concerned. I was about to move off him to the other side of the mattress when he grabbed my hand.

"Elle, wait. It's okay. I'm okay."

I didn't believe that for a second, but he gave me a convincing smile and placed his arms on my shoulders to pull me back. As my body lined up against his, I could feel something hard brush up against my leg and I shivered.

This was really happening.

As if to calm my uneasiness, he reached up to cup my cheek. I smiled down at him sheepishly and then crossed my arms over myself and peeled my shirt from my body. Once naked, I felt the sudden need to cover myself, but I forced myself not to.

I was frozen in place as he stared up at me, his eyes scanning over my breasts, and then he fixated on something else—my scars. Negan reached up to my abdomen and began tracing the jagged lines etched in my skin. I closed my eyes and became lost in the feeling of his gentle touch.

"Beautiful…" he drawled.

As he traced the pink lines, I reached down to lightly touch the bandaged wound near his collarbone—the wound that almost took him away from me. We both seemed lost in thought as we stared at each other's injuries, and then our eyes locked.

In that very instant, it was just Negan and me.

No scars, no gunshot wounds, no wives, no enemies, no baseball bats, no ping pong balls.

Just us. Together. A priceless moment alone where I was completely exposed to him—not just my body, but my entire soul was bared.

And then his hand trailed down in between my legs, and I shivered at the feeling of his fingers brushing against my heat. Open mouthed, I remained still as he explored my most intimate parts. His fingers lightly brushed against my sensitive folds, causing a shiver to run through me.

He studied my face as he touched me, completely mesmerized at the little sounds escaping my lips as he turned me on with his ministrations. I became undone with each little curl of his finger, completely at his mercy. I was finally giving in to my carnal desire, something I'd been denying for far too long.

Reaching down to take his hand away from my body, I laced my fingers with his and moved to line myself up with his shaft. I closed my eyes and braced for what would come next, but Negan's hand squeezed mine in reassurance and everything became suspended in time.

As I opened my eyes, I was met with Negan's face. He looked almost fragile in the dim orange light, and I wished I could keep that image locked inside my mind forever. He looked perfect.

Maybe we were each other's weaknesses, but I found a certain sense of strength in being with him.

With my knees on either side of him, I slowly sank down and felt him enter inside me. I gasped softly at first, and then began to move my hips, testing the feeling. Negan moaned low and tightly gripped my hips with his hands in an attempt to guide my movements. The entire time we locked eyes as he slid deeper inside, and then I rose up a bit. As my body stretched to accept him, I willed myself to relax, trusting him completely.

We continued the motions, as our soft, labored breaths seemed to echo off the walls around us. I became completely lost in the sensation—in him. It was desperate, yet slow. Maybe we were making love, but in the moment I didn't care what we'd call it.

I just didn't want him to let me go.

I had become so caught up in pleasure that I hadn't realized I was slowing down my movements. Suddenly, Negan pulled me flat against his chest. I placed my hands on top of his shoulders for support as he began to thrust up, keeping me propped up in his lap as he leaned back against the headboard. I could tell he was struggling to hold himself up, but he seemed dead-set on keeping the close-knit position.

"Negan…" I moaned, throwing my head back as we rocked together. His thrusts became harder as his name escaping my lips only seemed to encourage him more. His hands gripped my ass, pulling me even closer towards him, and goosebumps spread across my flushed skin as he started nipping at my neck.

Sitting up in a attempt to relieve some pressure from his chest, I could feel my muscles start to clench around him. Burying my hands into the back of his hair, I guided his head towards mine and we met in an intense kiss. I could feel the stubble of his beard scratch my face, and I melted into the delicious burning sensation.

The rhythm was slow, yet powerful—a chaotic repetition that was a result of delaying the inevitable.

Every unspoken word, every emotion we'd kept locked up felt unleashed.

It was raw, passionate and so very, very real.

I buried my face into the side of his neck as my cheeks heated up, and I felt my high grow near with each thrust. I didn't want it to end, but couldn't fight the warmth stirring inside of me. Between the tingling flesh, the friction of my soft skin gliding along his length, and Negan's moans, I crept closer and closer to that heavenly edge.

When the warm wave of arousal finally rushed through me, I cried out in bliss. Negan pulled me flush against his body and held me there.

And then everything went still.

I knew we had both reached our state of ecstasy, but we didn't move. I continued to keep my face pressed into him, hearing the sound of his pounding heartbeat. It felt dreamlike, and I didn't want to wake up.

Coming down from the high, I eventually sat up to look at Negan, I found him gazing at my face with so much desire that any self doubt I had washed away in an instant.

He smiled up at me and I leaned into him to press another kiss against his lips. He returned it eagerly, running his tongue against mine and then broke away to look at me again.

"My Elle…" he whispered, and I felt my blush deepen. Even though it sounded possessive, I relished the idea of being his. It wasn't about owning or controlling me. It was endearing.

And in that same moment, I knew—without a single doubt in my mind—Negan was mine too.

As he relaxed back onto the pillows and tried to catch his breath, I moved off him so I was laying against his right side. Nuzzling against his bare chest, he pulled the blankets so they were covering us, and I let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling of the cool sheets on my legs. I listened to his pulse as he began to pet my head. His fingers snaked through my hair as I continued to try and calm my breathing.

I had never felt so safe as I did in his arms.

We said nothing, as there was nothing left to be said. The silence was comfortable—almost peaceful. I felt exhausted, but happy.

I felt alive.

Negan continued to brush my hair with his fingers, and I had almost dozed off from the soothing sensation when a knock sounded at my door.

Sitting up and pulling the sheet to cover my naked body, my eyes went to Negan who was staring across the room.

"Come in!" Negan called out, making my heart leap into my throat.

Was he insane?!

I didn't have time to even think about the repercussions or who could possibly be coming to my room this late at night. Whoever it was, they were about to catch me in bed with Negan.

I wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide, but it was no use. The person on the other side of the door hesitated, probably shocked to hear Negan's voice, and then twisted the knob.

Amy stared at the sight of Negan and me laying in my bed for a few long, drawn out seconds without saying anything. But she didn't need to. I could see her bewildered look from across the room illuminated by the lamp. Negan's arm was wrapped around me, and he didn't seem fazed at all by Amy's presence.

I, on the other hand, had never felt more embarrassed in my life.

Amy cleared her throat and locked eyes with me.

"Eric went to go check on the gate to make sure the lock was holding, and someone was outside." She seemed to be ignoring Negan, and I was grateful for that. Then as her words sunk in, I sat up more, pulling the sheet with me and scrunched my brow.

"Who?"

Amy glanced over at Negan and then back to me. With a tight frown she took a deep breath and answered.

"Derek."

Negan glanced down at me with a serious expression and I took a deep breath.

"Tell him I'll be right there."