Chapter 25

Daryl, Carl, and an accompanying Savior walked behind Dwight as he led them to the room where Carl would spend the night. Daryl wasn't too happy about the situation. In fact, he was quite pissed with Carl and his boneheaded impulsivity that landed him here in the first place. He really wanted to give him an earful, and maybe give that ear a nice wallop, too, to drive his point home; but it would do no good. He was here now and no amount of words or smacks upside the head would change that.

Carl stayed silent, his face less red and wet than it was before, but he was still visibly shaken and pale from Negan's demonstration earlier. Daryl figured out Mark was the man who abandoned his outpost earlier which caused the roaming herd of walkers to impede their way back home. Mark had been lucky, however, that the larger group hadn't made their way any farther along than they had. He would have certainly lost a lot more than a patch of skin on the left side of this face, and Daryl was thankful that was all they witnessed.

It did get him thinking about how easily he could be in that chair next. He had purposely shown up Negan when he kissed Everly - not once, but twice. The second time right after Negan chose to torture a man in front of everyone for playing hooky to be with one of his wives instead. Granted, Everly wasn't his and she never would be, but Daryl and anyone else would have to be a fool to not realize how much Negan desired her. The memory of Everly telling him that Negan kissed her was enough to get Daryl's heart rate up and the blood pumping in his ears. His hands clenched into fists at the visual it brought up in his mind.

"You'll be sleeping in here," Dwight said to Carl as he opened a door to a small room. Inside was nothing but a bed and a bare shelf. "No windows and no doors except this one right here which will be locked from the outside. You'll also be guarded, so don't think about trying to break out either."

"What about food? And what if I need to use the bathroom?" Carl asked, his voice taking on a slight whiny edge.

"We'll bring you food, and if you need the bathroom, just ask for it," Dwight answered.

Carl looked at Daryl. He was hoping that if he played scared these people would go easy on him, and possibly underestimate him, too, but it didn't seem to be working on Dwight or the potbellied Savior behind him.

"Go on in, Carl. You'll be safe in there and one of us will be by later," Daryl told him. Carl, with a big heaving sigh, shuffled into the room.

Dwight shut the door and locked it, pocketing the key as the fellow savior took up guard in a chair opposite the door.

"If he needs the bathroom, let him use it and keep a close eye on him. Otherwise, don't let him out and keep your hands to yourself. You'll be relieved in a few hours," Dwight told the man.

"I think I can manage it," the Savior said, shifting back in the chair to get comfortable.

"You better, babysitter, or it'll be your fucking face next," Dwight threatened. He turned to Daryl. "After me, bitch boy. Let me show you your new room."

"Where are you keeping Carl?" I asked Negan.

We were still outside at the top of the factory, my hair billowing around my head in the wind. I wasn't sure if he was trying to impress or intimidate me by bringing me up here and I decided I didn't care either way. I only wanted to make sure Carl was going to be okay and then get down on the ground as soon as possible.

"You wanna keep an eye on the boy?" He asked bemusedly. "Seeing as he's only got the one, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. I can add you to the rotation."

"Really?" I furrowed my brows.

"No," he smiled. "That was a joke. An obvious one, I thought."

He moved from the railing to stand beside me and leaned against the wall. He gazed out at the horizon again to watch the setting sun. I stayed silent.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. I think I will put you on as a guard," he gazed at me from the corner of his eyes. "Not for Carl, but for everyone else. You'll watch over them and make sure my little worker bees are buzzing. Maybe go out on a run here and there to get some fresh air."

"Okay, I can do that…," I thought carefully about my next question. "Do I get a gun?"

Negan laughed.

"Hell no! The fucking thing would be shoved in my face as soon as it landed in your hands," he laughed some more. "You won't get any sort of weapon and you most certainly won't be allowed to go near any of them either, but with a promotion comes the perks… You will earn points more easily. And you'll get your own room, too."

I perked up at that. The prospect of having my room was so immensely desirable that I almost forgot I was still stuck in a place I didn't want to be. It did make this long ass day a bit more bearable, though. Having my own room would be a start to becoming more comfortable here and while that wasn't quite what I wanted, I might as well enjoy the benefits now and use them to my advantage.

"I'd like it even better if I could go back to my actual room in my actual house," I countered.

"I bet you would, but actually…your real room is here in your real home," he shifted his body to face toward me, his shoulder on the wall and his arms crossed. "Tell me more about your life before it ended. When that biter bitch had you pinned down, did it flash before your eyes? Did you see everything you used to have before you descended into hell two years ago?"

"I was already in hell before any of this shit started," I confessed, looking down at my feet.

"Oooh, now I'm intrigued. How so?" Negan got a bit closer to me, eager to hear my story.

"I don't know why you would even pretend to care," I scoffed and set my gaze away from him.

"Hey," he said softly and grabbed my chin, pulling me so that I had to look up at him. "I do care. Maybe not about as many things as I should, but don't mistake me. I'm more than willing to listen if you're willing to share."

"Stop acting familiar with me," I yanked away from him. "You don't know me and I know for a fact that the only part about me you do want to get to know is between my legs, so save the bullshit for someone who'll buy it."

I wanted to leave. I wanted to get off of this high walkway and find somewhere I could be alone. Most importantly, I wanted to be away from him, the person that could kill and maim people without flinching and wear a smile while he was doing it.

I made for the door, being sure to stay close to the wall lest I get too close to the edge or Negan decided hurling me off the side would be a good idea after all. Then I realized it. He wouldn't do that; maybe not because he cared about me like he claimed he did but because I was important to him in some way. Why else would I be here still? Why else would he give me what liberties I had already? Why else would he have saved me from that walker…?

I looked back at him, scrutinizing his features as he stood in the same spot staring out at the sunset again. He didn't seem angry. He didn't even have on his trademark smile. He looked sort of…sad, and he hadn't tried to stop me from leaving. That was odd.

"I like to come up here at times…," he spoke without looking at me, "to be alone. I was thinking about what you said earlier in the truck. About your dad."

He looked at me then, giving me a sympathetic lift of his lips. I pushed my hair that still fluttered around my head behind my ears and gave him a quizzical look.

"What about him?"

"I've lost someone to cancer, too," he said so softly that I barely heard him. I took a step forward. "I know what it's like to live with that pain… Fuck," he expressed, looking away from me. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head, "I still feel it."

I sighed, torn between feeling sorry for him again and not giving a shit. My nurturing nature was starting to get the best of me as I fought the urge to comfort him. I was ninety-nine percent sure this was bullshit again, but he looked so sincere…and I knew exactly what he was feeling if he was telling the truth.

"If you're making this shit up, you're a bigger fuck that I thought," I spat out as I came up and leaned against the wall beside him.

"I'm not," he looked down at me, his face serious and his voice deep with emotion. The sympathy surged through me so violently that I almost said aw.

Motherfucker… I started to roll my eyes, but gritted my teeth instead. I didn't want to dismiss his pain despite the fact that he was good at doing it to others. I wasn't him, I reminded myself.

"Who had cancer?" I ventured to ask.

He didn't acknowledge me but left my gaze again to stare out into his infinite beyond. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"She was the first walker I met," he finally said. "At the hospital, right after she died. She turned right as humanity shit on itself."

"And…," I said. I was starting to get a bit interested now.

"Not before you, doll," Negan smiled at me then. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, there isn't much to know. My dad got cancer and died, but thankfully it was long before everything happened. He was fortunate enough to miss all of this. Can I go now?"

I pushed off the wall, but he caught my shoulder and I fell back against it. He let his hand stay there for a second, and then tenderly, he slid it down my arm and back to his side. His lingering smile was faint.

"What about…after?" He asked me slowly.

I considered what to say for a moment. Being as vague as I was before probably wasn't going to satisfy Negan, and as the day grew darker and colder, I just wanted to be inside and unconscious, no matter if it was in my old cot or in a new room.

"It was fine for a while," I spoke, annoyed. "My mother, she was devastated and she stayed that way. She had help at first and she managed to keep herself together for nearly three years before she completely lost it. The neglect wasn't really apparent to anyone. Not even really to me because I was still young, until a few years later when I was old enough to understand. When I recognized it wasn't normal for her to leave us all night to go to the bar, bring home strange men, never pay the bills, smell like alcohol all the damn time, not wake up in the mornings to the point where I'd yell and hit her, trying to wake her up and thinking she was dead, too…"

His eyes were soft on me, his smile and humor gone, replaced with pity, sympathy, something I didn't ever expect to see on his face. It was my turn to watch the sunset now as I told the rest of my story.

"She met Peter when I was twelve. She married him and he was just like her but in a meaner, more sadistic sort of way. He was incapable of…being human it seemed. He rarely smiled, never outwardly enjoyed anything, was always miserable, and every problem that happened in his life he related directly to us. Like it was our fault simply because we existed," a bitter laugh escaped me.

"Who else was with you?" Negan asked.

I stiffened. I hadn't paid close enough attention to my words and I was kicking myself for it. I decided to lie then.

"Just my mother," I answered, giving him a quick sideways look.

"No, she wasn't," he said. "You said, 'leave us all night'… Who else was with you?"

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, steeling myself.

"Mason," I replied close-lipped.

"He's your brother?" Negan surmised.

"Was…my brother," I corrected.

We were silent for a moment, and Negan didn't pressure me into speaking right away. He must've seen how much it upset me to talk about him and how little I desired to do so. I didn't even want to say his name, I had kept it inside of me for so long. Negan was the last person I ever expected to say it aloud to. I didn't think I'd ever say it again.

"Did you lose him somewhere?" Negan's voice was hushed in my ear. "Did he turn?"

I felt the tears then, hot and automatic. I held myself back as much as I could, not wanting to break down up here with someone who would surely take advantage of my vulnerable state. I wiped at my face, angry that I was being forced to speak about this and upset with myself that I was giving in.

"Everly," Negan pressed gently.

"No," I spat at him. "He died before any of this. Another fortunate happening in the bouts of constant misery, I suppose, all things considered."

"Tell me what happened," he requested as I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt. It did no good; the tears a steady stream down my face.

"Peter," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I got kicked out. I was old enough to live on my own then, but I couldn't take Mason with me. They wouldn't have let me had I tried, but it wouldn't have mattered. I had no way to take care of him. I could barely take care of myself. He had to stay with them, alone."

I took a moment to calm myself before pressing on.

"When I lived with them, Mason and I didn't get much in the way of care. We were more like tracked-in mud that stained the carpet, unwanted but always there. We only got what we did because it was an obligation to them. And my mother… Fuck, I don't think she was coherent for that entire marriage; he controlled everything. It was like she died a long time ago along with my father."

Negan remained patient with me. He was absorbed in everything I was saying, his expression the same. I felt his fingers brush mine as he grabbed my hand, and I let him hold it.

"Mason… He was weak, frail. He'd always been a little bit sickly, but his health declined once I left. I blame it-," I choked out a sob, "-it's because of me. I left and it broke his heart. And Peter was nothing but cruel to him while my mother lay drunk and stupid in bed all day. And I did nothing about it, couldn't do anything about it though I tried. I should've tried harder…

"He died in his sleep by himself, alone in his room that was bare of anything but a bed, a handful of old, broken toys and an empty bowl… They found antifreeze and benzos in his system during the autopsy. His skin had chemical burns where he had thrown up in his sleep, from where the ingested chemicals and stomach acids ate away at him. Peter force-fed him…a fucking bowl of soup mixed with antifreeze…and enough drugs to make sure he passed out too soon to do anything about it. And he covered everything up so professionally; made it look like a suicide… He almost got away with it. The only one who did was my mother."

"And then?" Negan whispered, his hand squeezed mine.

"Peter was convicted, and I didn't see my mother for almost a year after Mason's death. I only saw her one last time after she reached out to me and begged me to see her. I went. I don't know why, but I did. And everything was…absolutely ruined," the image of my mother, disheveled and sunken in as she wallowed in her stained bed, crying and yelling for me to stay with her, would forever haunt me. "She begged me to stay, not to leave. She told me she was sorry for what she did to us and that she couldn't live with herself anymore. She said she was going to kill herself if I went, if I couldn't forgive her…and I couldn't. I walked right out… I never saw her again."

"Damn," Negan remarked, his tone solemn. "That's fucked. You don't know if she's surviving out there?"

"She killed herself that night," I informed him. "And I highly doubt the bitch would've made it far anyway."

I took my hand from Negan's and wiped my face with my shirt one last time. The tears had stopped a while ago, but I still felt wrecked. I leaned my head back and let my eyes fall shut. If I could, I would fall asleep right here, fear of heights be damned.

"Well," Negan started, "my story isn't quite as long nor is it as fucking abysmally sad-"

"Then don't bother with it," I snarled and headed for the door back inside. He grabbed me again, his arm around my waist and pulling me back.

"Wait, wait," he said. "I didn't mean it as an insult, I swear. You know my mouth runs away from me before I even know what shit's come out of it sometimes."

I pushed his arm away from me. I could give a fuck about what he did or didn't mean.

"You got what you wanted. Just let me go."

"No," he said and held me against the wall with his hands on my shoulders. "You shared something very intimate with me, and I want to return the favor. You asked me who had cancer…," he sighed, "it was Lucille. My wife."

He took his hands from my shoulders, but stayed standing in front of me.

"You were at the hospital with her when she died and…turned?" I implored.

"Yes, and shit went south fucking fast," he shook his head. "She was more susceptible to becoming sick, going through chemo and all. The sickness that took most of the population out took her out as well. And I dismissed her through most of her sickness, not wanting to face the reality of it. It wasn't until I heard her flatline that it did become real and I realized what a fool I'd been."

"Is it because of that that you're such an insufferable twat now?" I raised an eyebrow at him, but felt sorry the instant the words left my mouth. My face started to get hot.

"Je-sus, that shit fucking hurt," Negan smiled, leaning down at bit to look at me more closely. "I am rubbing off on you, I fucking knew it."

"Do you think she'd be proud of who you are now? What you've become?"

"Frankly, I could give a fuck what she'd think, she's dead," he replied honestly. "I've moved past that point. I asked myself all the 'what if' questions and the only thing I learned from them was that it had been a fucking waste of time. Like I said before, we are where we are because of the choices we make, and I got to where I am by taking what I wanted. I try not to dwell on the past and I sure as shit don't let it eat me up inside. I still feel her loss, I'll admit that, but I consider that pain my strength… You shouldn't let yours hinder you. Not anymore."

He put a hand through my hair, his palm warm against my temple. I swallowed and pressed my back further against the wall.

"I know you're scared," he whispered as he stared down at me. "You're afraid of losing the only thing that's ever come close to what you'd call a family, and fuck me, I'm the one who ripped you away from them. That breaks my heart because the last thing I'd ever want to do is tear apart a family. That shit has meaning to me… However, I've got one of my own to watch out for, a mighty damn big one, and you're a part of it now," he smiled. He leaned down and tilted his head so that his mouth was closer to my ear. "And I just want you to know that if I had the option to do everything over again…I'd do it the same damn way. Every. Single. Time."

Carl paced in his tiny room, restless and annoyed. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't like being trapped in here. It gave him nothing to do which was against his plan. He stomped up to the door to bang on it again.

"Hey, I've really gotta piss man. Please," Carl whined.

"Shut up. I ain't lettin' ya out," the Savior responded.

Carl threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"I'm gonna piss all over this floor in here!" Carl warned. "I'll tell them you denied me bathroom privileges! I bet they'll make you clean it up…with a straw! Make you suck it all up from the floor!"

He then heard the screeching of a chair and shuffling coming near the door. The tumblers clinked as the Savior unlocked it and opened it up to reveal he was a different person from the one before. This guy was older and softer. Carl could easily knock him on his ass and run. Then perhaps he could find Negan.

"Ya know what this is, boy?" The man held up a fist. He grabbed Carl by the collar of his shirt and yanked him so that his knuckles were in his face.

"Your girlfriend?" Carl asked cheekily.

"Ya fuckin' punk. I'm gonna kick your ass," the now redfaced Savior said and cocked his arm back.

"Hold on there, Charlie," Dwight spoke as he came up to the two. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"This twerp won't keep his whiny bitch mouth shut. He keeps asking for the bathroom, but I was told not let 'im out," Charlie explained. He lowered his fist, but he still had Carl's shirt clutched in his hand.

Dwight gave the man an impatient look before turning it onto Carl.

"Let him go. I'll take him," Dwight told Charlie and motioned for Carl to step over to him.

Charlie shook his head and gave Carl a rather nasty glare as he let him go, spewing out muffled curses under his breath.

"I'm glad I ain't never had any of yus," he huffed out.

"Shit, me too. You'd make a terrible father," Carl whispered to himself, straightening his shirt. He looked up at Dwight.

"This way," Dwight told him as he led him to the bathrooms.

The hallways were mostly dark, punctuated at regular intervals with a single illuminated lightblub. It was eerily quiet, too. The same busyness the factory held before was absent now that its occupants were asleep. It made Carl feel giddy; he was on an adventure again. Now if only he could lose Dwight…

"Do you really need to take a piss?" Dwight asked and peered at him over his shoulder.

"Not really," Carl admitted.

Dwight faced forward again and kept walking, leading him somewhere. Carl became confused and he thought of what he could do to sneak away.

"Where are you taking me?" He decided to ask, curious.

"Be quiet," Dwight told him.

He stopped in front of a door, looking both ways down the hall before opening it and ushering Carl inside. Carl entered the room, mostly against his will but a smidgeon of him was also wondering what would happen.

"Can you keep your mouth shut or do you just like to spout off shit without thinking at all?" Dwight asked him as soon as he had carefully shut the door and locked it.

"Depends on what I need to keep quiet about," Carl glared at Dwight. "Also, your room is fucking repulsive."

Carl examined the room in open disgust. Clothes, boxes, food, and wrappers among other things littered the room. It also smelled like what Carl assumed a strip club must've smelled like; full of smoke and strong body odor. Carl grimaced.

"Take a seat," Dwight ignored him, clearing off a chair near the far back wall.

"Where? On the garbage pile in the corner?"

"Just sit the fuck down," Dwight pointed to the chair. Carl obliged and crossed his arms once he was in the chair.

"So, what? We gonna have a slumber party?" Carl asked.

Dwight pulled up another chair to sit in front of Carl, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He put his hands together, like he was about to pray, and stared at the floor for a second. Carl furrowed his brow.

"Whaaaaa-?" He started to ask after a minute.

"I can help you," Dwight cut him off, his voice low.

"Huh?" Carl felt perplexed.

"I can help you, your dad, everyone. I know a way to get at Negan," Dwight explained.

Carl took a minute to process that. A range of emotions coursed through him as he pondered the implications and possibilities of what was being said to him right now. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He wasn't sure of what to say.

"I overheard your dad, Daryl, and Everly talking about it back in Alexandria when I stood at the door. It wasn't too hard to make out what they were saying, and I know they are going to try to plan something. That your dad has already been trying to plan something."

Butterflies cut through Carl's stomach and his eye widened. He leapt out the chair, ready to make a run for the door, but Dwight caught him easily and roughly sat him back down. Carl gripped the sides of the chair as he stared up at Dwight.

"Nothing like that happened," Carl was thinking on the fly. He figured denying it would be everyone's best bet. "I bet this is just a trick from Negan so that he has an excuse to take us out. Well, it's not going to work! We haven't been planning shit!"

Dwight face contorted into anger then as he slammed a hand over Carl's mouth. He looked behind him at the door, listening for a couple of moments for any noises outside before turning back to Carl.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me again," Dwight quietly sneered at him. "This isn't some fucking test from Negan. This is me trying to help you out, so shut the hell up and let me elaborate. Can I take my hand off you now or are you gonna scream at me again and wake everyone the fuck up?"

Carl gulped and shook his head, his hands balled at his thighs and ready for a fight. Dwight moved his hand away, staying close to him for a few second to see if he'd try to run or yell again. When Carl stayed still and only stared angrily up at him, Dwight backed up to his chair and sat down again.

"Why should I trust you?" Carl asked him in a normal tone.

"You really have no reason, too," Dwight conceded. "But trust me when I say that if Negan really wanted you dead, you would be by now. He doesn't need to find an excuse to kill you. He could easily take over Alexandria and make everyone inside a dead defender of her walls if he wanted to."

Carl thought about all the chained up and staked down walkers he saw around the Sanctuary fence and shuddered. Dwight was proving a point. But could he really help them? And why help them now, all of sudden?

"Why would you want to help us?" Carl spoke aloud his thoughts.

"You asked me earlier how I got my scar…," Dwight stared at him for a minute to let him think about the answer. They both thought about Mark. "After what you saw tonight, you know…and that's why I'm going to help you find a way to bring that piece of shit down."

Edited by lolasskicker. :D