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. – This chapter his told in Negan's perspective.

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 Eight

"Of all the money that e'er I had. I have spent it in good company. Oh, and all the harm I've ever done. Alas, it was to none but me."

There was a song stuck in his head.

Well, not just his head, hers too.

"And all I've done for want of wit. To memory now I can't recall. So, fill to me the parting glass. Good night and joy be to you all."

Considering he'd never heard the song before now, he figured this lapse was all hers.

Which was a story in of itself.

She didn't let him in often.

She was a closed book most of the time.

Or as closed as you could get when you were each other's one.

But sometimes he got things like this.

Simple, normal, beautiful things.

Beautiful like her.

Dangerous too.

He didn't realize he was humming along, as he did inventory, until the echoes slapped him back. He managed to play it off when he caught Simon staring from around a stack of shit-ply toilet paper. But it wasn't near as smooth of a thing as he'd like. Kind of like wiping your ass with that toilet paper. The transition was rough and stuttered.

"So fill to me the parting glass. And drink a health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call. Good night and joy be to you all."

He grinned, tossing Simon a package of the good ply and telling him to treat himself. Distracting him from asking when Irat joined them, keys jingling. Giving him the opportunity to escape into the pea-green hallway.

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had. They're sorry for my going away. And all the sweethearts that e'er I had. They would wish me one more day to stay."

Before all this, he might have assumed it was for him. That she was thinking of him. But the him now, the one she was changing, knew better. This was different. And he couldn't pretend. It reminded him of her farmhouse, the wheat-grass fields. Of him in that suit and what could've been. It reminded him of people he'd never met, but could have. An old man with the country sun stuck in the wrinkles around his eyes and a young, blond thing that Maggie shared blood with. A sister. A father. Both long gone now.

"But since it fell into my lot. That I should rise and you should not. I'll gently rise and softly call. Good night and joy be to you all."

He didn't know what to think when he realized it was a sad sort of song.

A gathering song.

A leaving song.

It didn't escape his notice that he'd never been more alone.

He huffed a self-deprecating sound.

Leave it to him to screw up his own soulmate situation.

"So fill to me the parting glass. And drink a health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call. Good night and joy be to you all."

He kept his trademark smirk plastered thick as he swaggered to his apartment. Greeting his people. Flirting. Barking orders. Everything that was expected of him. But all the while, her pretty voice was there, keeping him company like no one else could.

It was a relief to slam the door closed and lock it behind him. Exhaling hard as he leaned against the cold steel.

Damn.

He really was fucked, wasn't he?

The widow wouldn't give him an inch, and he didn't blame her.

He couldn't.

Because he could feel it.

Her pain. Her rage. Hope and happiness draining right out of her.

He could feel all of it.

Hell, he'd woken up yelling - sweating - locked in a nightmare that was hers more than once. Watching himself through her eyes as he brought Lucille down on her man's head. Being on the other side changed things. A lot of things. He figured if he could do it over, he wouldn't be fucking grinning while he did it.

Christ.

And wasn't it fucking wild to be insanely jealous, while simultaneously hating himself?

"But since it fell into my lot. That I should rise and you should not. I'll gently rise and softly call. Good night and joy be to you all."

He shook his head, deciding he needed some air. He crossed over to the roof access. The key was still tucked into a niche above the door. His own private escape hatch. He grabbed it and wiggled it in the lock, smirking when it finally clicked.

The afternoon was dying, but the air was still warm. Making it just comfortable enough to lean against the sticky-hot railing, looking off in the direction of Hilltop.

He came up here a lot these days.

Mostly to do exactly this.

He just- looked.

Sometimes he was able to trick himself into believing she was doing the same thing.

"So fill to me the parting glass. And drink a health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call. Good night and joy be to you all."

And despite not knowing the song, he found himself singing the last line with her as the sun began to set. Meaning it in every way. Thinking about her and the baby and everything he wanted but probably couldn't have. Closing his eyes as a familiar female sigh echoed. Allowing him, in some small way, to remember with her.

"Good night and joy be with you all..."

His head hung slack between his arms as he braced himself against the railing. Chest aching as her presence slowly faded. Leaving him alone and fucked in the head as every bone in his body needed.

He couldn't fucking do this anymore.

Something had to give.

Hell, it wasn't like she could hate him anymore than she already did, right?

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

Reference:

- "The Parting Glass" is a Scottish traditional song, often sung at the end of a gathering of friends. It has also long been sung in Ireland, enjoying considerable popularity to this day and strongly influencing the style in which it is now sung. It was purportedly the most popular parting song sung in Scotland before Robert Burns wrote "Auld Lang Syne".

- It is the song Beth Greene and Maggie Greene sang in the season three premiere.