Disclaimer: I don't own "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I'm not sure why I decided this had to be written, but here we are. I thought it would be interesting to tackle the idea of instead of Father Gabriel, it was Maggie who was left behind with Negan.

Warnings: soul-mates, soul bond, fated love, angst, drama, romance, unresolved sexual tension, post traumatic stress disorder, mild consent issues. Negan is not a good person and Maggie doesn't deserve this.

What doesn't kill me (makes me)

Chapter Seven

Weeks later found her on a joint mission with Rick and a few others from Alexandria. The reason was an Amish farming community Jesus had finally coaxed into establishing trade connections. It had been a hard sell. But after two years of building trust, they were ready to meet in person.

Gregory hadn't known about the place.

Nor had she until a month ago.

No one had.

It wasn't until she was standing in the thick of it that she understood why.

The people here had dealt with the infection by changing remarkably little. The community, once spread out over hundreds of acres, had condensed into a village center. With its residents returning home from the fields at night to sleep in hundreds of small, rough-hewn cabins - protected by a high-stacked log fence.

Everyone stayed together.

Everyone protected each other.

And because of that, they'd lost remarkably little since the start.

She frowned, waiting for the catch.

It didn't feel real.

The feeling didn't fade, but it did start to evolve. Because they had a lot to trade. Fresh butter, milk and best of all- meat. They had protected their livestock when the world had ended. Culling the bitten and injured before bringing the majority closer to home. Their ranges were already fenced, but they'd seen to reinforcing them. Within just a few months, around when Rick and the others had found their farm, the people here had already figured it out. Together with herding dogs and rotations of people standing guard, they were able to let the animals roam. They even had a system of signal fires that could be lit to indicate trouble - walkers or worse. Ensuring help would come if needed.

It was impressive. But the fact that so little had changed for them was envious. They were self-sufficient because, for the most part, they'd always been. And somehow, by some miracle, they'd remained largely unnoticed.

Negan hadn't touched this place. Not yet anyway.

But they knew he was out there. That was why they'd finally decided an alliance was to their benefit. They might be naïve, but Jesus and Rick had said enough to impress the danger of staying alone. As a member of their network, they would have protection and support. And more to the point, fighters.

She allowed Jesus to speak for her as the talks continued. More interested in walking the fenced areas and talking candidly to the people. Realizing quickly that while they used their weapons against the undead, they hadn't done the same to the living and had no intention of doing so. Nonresistance and non-violence wasn't just a moral principal, it was a key facet of their religious conviction. And despite the treaty, that was nonnegotiable, no matter what Rick or Jesus tried to say.

Her mouth firmed into a tighter and tighter line.

She could respect their choice, but she didn't see how it was sustainable. How would they be able to protect them when they wouldn't protect themselves? It wasn't fair to her people. She couldn't ask them to risk themselves, not when they were barely hanging on as it was. She didn't have the people to sustain that kind of loss. Any loss. And she didn't intend to.

Glenn's ghost flickered into view. Making her chase him as the mirage leaned against the main barricade wall. He smiled at her before disappearing between blinks. She was so used to it, she just took the hint. Running her hand across the flaking bark like she could soak in the warmth he'd left behind.

The wood was cold.

She stared at the construction. Eying the criss-cross that locked the logs together in hand-cut niches. Convinced it was far more secure than the upright fortifications at Hill Top. She tapped her finger against her lips. Considering the merits of adding a stipulation into the treaty that they send workers to do the same at Hill Top. Depending on how generous they were with trade, they might be able to leave a rotation of fighters here to-

"Isn't it lovely?" An older woman trilled. Breaking her out of her thoughts enough to realize that somewhere along the line she'd turned towards a group milling in the center of the square.

The woman was older. Much older than she was used to seeing. Bent almost in half and clutching a wooden cane. Life had made a road map of her pleasant face. Skin thin and lightly bruised in the normal way the elderly get from bumping into a counter or getting hugged too hard.

The woman smiled as the group of people cheered. Toasting a young, blushing couple dressed in simple wedding clothes.

"Its a reminder good is not lost. God is still working his miracles. They are right here, waiting for us to praise."

The wedding had been in progress when they'd arrived. Both the bride and groom had barely noticed, they were so wrapped up in each other. With only the guests flicking an eye in their direction before turning back to the ceremony.

"They look happy," she replied politely. Meaning it as she caught a glimpse of their entwined hands. Gazing at the other adoringly whenever they had a moment to breathe. Clearly very much in love.

She smiled, wondering how long it had been considering the expression felt unfamiliar on her face. Holding back a laugh when the young man got caught trying to steal a kiss by a table piled with party food. Getting the mickey taken out of him as a chorus of hoots and hollers rang out in the afternoon air.

It felt so normal.

"They have good reason to be," the woman hummed fondly. Clucking a bit as she took in the curve of her belly, wisely saying nothing. "They are each other's one."

It shocked her so soundly the baby moved. A fluttering, hollow thud that made her muscles twist at the weirdness of it all. Clenching her eyes shut as a questioning nudge issued from the part of her mind Negan tended to linger in. The bond between them was weak and strained, but she knew he felt it. He'd felt the kick. He'd felt her surprise. She could almost picture him pausing in mid-stride, hand slapping down on his stomach, hurling out a questioning curse.

It was the first time she'd felt the baby move.

Glenn would have-

The smile that'd been alive on her face died there.

Negan nudged at her again through the bond. Irritating and prickly, like he knew she was ignoring him. She pictured a blank space. A void. Anything. But a roll of amusement came through the bond anyway. Something that translated like a chuckle before he left on his own. Presence ebbing like a tide, happy to leave because he knew he would return.

She couldn't get rid of him.

And he knew it.

"They've known since they were children," the woman explained. Smiling for both of them as someone got out a fiddle and the pair started dancing. The party formed a circle around them, clapping happily. "One of the lucky ones."

Her head came up as the first part sank in.

Children?

"How did they stand it? Being apart?" she questioned, thinking about the black hole that had been punched through her ever since Negan laid hands on her. The books she'd found had only talked about what happened when you found your one later in life. She'd never considered some people literally grew up with theirs.

The old woman huffed a laugh, peering up at her knowingly.

"They never were. When they were young it was enough to just be close. To have each other's fellowship. They grew up as the best of friends. Two halves of the same whole, as God intended. When they got older we had to keep an eye on them. The need to complete the bond is impossible to resist, or so they say. Either way, you know what its like with young people."

The woman's smile was sly then, knowing they were thinking the same thing. Flashing back to memories of necking with Brad Spellman in eighth grade behind the barn. Covering up hickeys in the bathroom mirror after hooking up with Chris White at a graduation party. She couldn't imagine her teens with a bond in the mix.

"Everyone knew it was only a matter of time. Ezra built them a cabin of their own before he asked her. She jumped into his arms, clear as anything. I don't think I've seen any pair so happy as them. They would have been married last winter, but Clara's father passed. Everyone needed time."

She murmured a sympathetic sound. Prompting the woman to keep talking as she shifted her stance. Ankles starting to ache.

"I remember reading about it...how when you found your one it was almost impossible not to bond right then. I guess it's different when you grow up together," she replied, directing the conversation gently. "I wonder if there are other reasons, other ways to put off bonding?"

Ever since the world ended not many people talked about their one. It was too painful. All she had were outdated books meant for pre-teens and people whose smiles went all the way to their eyes. She was out of her depth and had never missed the internet more.

The woman expelled a breath like a kettle on boil.

"Mercy, child! Why would you ever be apart!? Goodness! What a notion! As for these two, well…it was a bit of a to-do. You couldn't keep them separated when they came of age, or they suffered for it. The pull gets worse when you get to marrying age. A few gossips said it wasn't proper, them always being together. Luckily the families were close, so they were never alone. It took some trying, but they did it properly. And here they are."

"Here they are," she agreed, like a sullen echo.

Negan's presence lit up in subtle, sunset colors through the bond. Warm like a blanket in early fall. She let him stay as the woman continued talking. Telling her about the two of them as the words washed over her. Present and nodding, but not really listening.

It was strange. Because instead of taking advantage, he settled into the moment with her. Making that sweet, warm feeling turn into the flash of a front porch swing and a sunset. Of two mugs steaming quietly on a tray between them. Soothed by the weight of him as the swing creaked – fighting for it's life against gravity.

Maggie.

Her eyes fluttered closed as it come through the bond.

She liked it when he said her name.

But it was only recently that it hadn't felt as weaponized.

She was startled when the woman gently touched her arm. Suddenly aware she must have been trying to get her attention for some time. Looking up at her with eyes that made her wary. Like somehow, the old woman knew.

"I realize its different out there- before and maybe still. But when the creator gives you the other half of your soul, how can you do anything else?"

It took more out of her than she expected to keep her expression neutral.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.

Reference:

- Everything I know about the Amish is literally from Wikipedia.