••CW: Chapter contains the subject of suicide••

~Three~

Eve gazed across at the prisoner's window, a sudden yawn creeping up, urging her to head home and snuggle beneath a warm blanket and watch movies until sleep took over. Yet, she remained fixed in place, her curiosity about the prisoner deepening with each moment she stared at that dark window.

Glancing at her watch, Eve's eyes widened as it revealed it was nearly three in the morning. She wondered if he would even be awake at this hour. The prisoner had been on the backburner of her thoughts at the party, but now, standing here, she wished he were awake so she could engage in conversation. There was an undeniable allure to the enigmatic man hidden behind those bars.

Eve took a sip of the wine she'd brought from the party to boost her confidence, and her legs carried her closer. She held onto the top railing and attempted to peer through the barred window. She descended two steps but hesitated, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Eve realized it was a risky move to approach the prisoner and figured she would get in trouble if caught.

Eve sighed, realizing that she hadn't even been an official resident of Alexandria for a full day, yet she was already considering doing something foolish. This man was an enemy of Alexandria, of Rick Grimes, and of... Tara. A rush of guilt coursed through Eve, nearly bringing her to her knees. She glanced toward Eric and Aaron's house, where her roommate still lay asleep on their couch after passing out a few hours ago. If Tara found out about Eve's thoughts, she feared their trust would be shattered. And with that in mind, Eve turned to leave, unwilling to risk her friendship over her curiosity about the prisoner. But as she did, Eve lost her footing and tumbled.

"Ow!" Eve grunted as her legs collided with the concrete stairs.

It hurt like a son of a bitch, and fueled by adrenaline and probably a good dose of alcohol in her system, Eve quickly got her feet, acting as if nothing had happened. She cast a wary glance at the street to ensure no one had heard her stumble. Finding no one rushing to her rescue, she couldn't help but chuckle as she looked at the wine bottle she had saved from hitting the ground. Priorities, right? Eve shook her head, ascended the remaining steps to the main street, and headed home, looking forward to wrapping herself in a blanket and watching a movie.

However, her plans were interrupted by a deep male voice that froze her in her tracks. Startled, with her heart in her throat, she turned cautiously, her eyes fixed on the barred window, but the encompassing darkness revealed nothing.

"What?" Eve asked, though she knew what he'd said.

"Don't go," he repeated.

The prisoner's voice sounded different tonight, but maybe it was because she had woken him from sleep with her fall. Besides, it was three in the morning.

"Why?" she inquired.

"Because I don't want you to," he confessed after a brief pause.

Her breath caught at his admission. Eve was aware that she should concentrate, aware that she should immediately turn around and head home. But before her thoughts could catch up with her actions, she descended the steps and walked through the unlocked door. If the people of Alexandria truly aimed to keep outsiders at bay, there would be a guard on duty, and the door would be locked, wouldn't it?

After Eve closed the door, she instinctively reached for the light switch.

"Leave it off," he interjected, his voice slicing through the darkness. It made sense even if she didn't like it; keeping the light off would avoid drawing attention.

"There's a chair against the back wall," he mentioned hesitantly, then added, "If you want to sit down."

Eve paused. Was she really going to sit and chat? What if someone discovered her here? What if her Alexandrian citizenship was revoked in less than twenty-four hours? But she pushed her conflicting thoughts aside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Since she was already inside, she decided to take a seat. Eve found a solitary metal chair against the wall, placed it about an arm's length from the cell bars, and sat down.

The faint light from the streetlamp outside filtered into the small room. Though Eve couldn't make out details in the dimness, after her eyes adjusted, she could distinguish a male figure sitting on a small bed, his feet planted on the floor.

"Are you going to tell me your name tonight?" he inquired.

Eve sucked in a breath; she hadn't expected him to recognize her with her hair down.

"Didn't think I knew who you were?" He chuckled softly, his slow drawl from the other night returning.

"Not really," Eve admitted.

He settled back on the bed, leaning against the wall as if becoming more comfortable.

"So, what's your name?" he asked again.

She paused. "Eve."

"Short for... Evelyn?" he guessed.

"Guinevere."

"That's... incredible," he responded with a breathless sigh.

Eve furrowed her brow, surprised by his reaction. "Excuse me?" she blurted out.

"It was my grandmother's name," he explained, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Fiercest old woman I've ever known."

Eve found herself smiling at his admission. "It was my grandma's name too."

"Well, what do you know?" he said. "We've got that in common."

Eve took a sip of wine, needing it after that revelation. She didn't want to share anything in common with this man. For the umpteenth time tonight, she questioned why she was here. This man had caused a post-apocalyptic war and had killed many people. It was wrong to be here, and it felt wrong. Now, Eve couldn't pinpoint why she had come in the first place. Maybe she had a death wish? Because if anyone found out she was here, the people of Alexandrian might condemn her to death or exile. And, if she were honest with herself, she didn't think she had the will to survive out there again. She glanced at the wine bottle resting on her thigh, then set it on the ground. She didn't need any more of that stuff tonight. Look where it had led her.

"Why are you in here?" Eve blurted out, her mouth moving faster than her thoughts.

Another small laugh escaped him. "What have you been drinking tonight?"

She shrugged. "A bit of this and that."

He sat up on the cot, a bit more alert. "What did you bring with you?"

"Pinot."

He made an appreciative sound and then commented, "My favorite when I did have a taste for wine. I lean more towards a good scotch myself."

"Answer my question," Eve insisted, realizing he was trying to divert her attention. "What did you do to end up locked up in here?" Although she had heard some details over the past two weeks, Eve wanted to know what he had to say on the matter.

"A lot of bad shit," he sighed.

"Why don't they just kill you?" Eve's eyes widened as that question came out of her mouth. She'd never have been so blunt if she'd been sober.

"I ask myself that all the time," he said.

"How long have you been in here?" Eve asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering. "Been so long, I lost interest in keeping up."

"Long time, huh?"

"Yeah." Then he asked, "How long have you been at Alexandria?"

Eve was the one hesitating this time, but then she remembered that he'd known she was a fresh face when she'd brought him the bag of food. "Two weeks."

"A newbie, huh? I'm surprised they still allow people."

"Why?" Eve asked quickly, very interested in his answer.

"Because I did a lot of bad shit. Caused these people to become wary of newcomers."

"Don't we all nowadays," she said nonchalantly with a shrug. "What's your name?"

"Thought you'd never ask me," he said, another smile in his voice. "I'm Negan."

"Negan," Eve repeated, never hearing of that unique name before. No one had ever called him by name in Alexandria; they always had referred to him as the prisoner.

"Yessss," he whispered, letting the word drag out into a hiss as if he liked her saying his name.

She didn't like that thought at all and picked up the bottle by her feet to take a drink. Eve was mid-sip when she realized she'd sat it on the ground for a reason.

"You guys have a party tonight?" Negan asked.

"We had a little get-together, yeah," Eve answered with another shrug as she sat the wine bottle back down, a little farther away this time.

"What was the occasion?" he questioned as he resituated himself upon the small bed in the corner.

Eve paused, wondering if she should lie or tell him the truth. What if the Alexandrian people who kept him captive wanted to keep him ignorant of things like the party? Would she be considered a traitor if she told Negan it had been for her? It didn't seem like such a big thing to keep from him. Eve chewed on her bottom lip while she mulled it over. He was in a cell, for crying out loud. What harm could it do?

"It was for me," Eve admitted, a little embarrassed.

"You?" Negan sat up on the bed straighter, like he suddenly became interested in their conversation for the first time.

"Yeah." Eve didn't elaborate though she knew he wanted her to.

"Did you not like it?" he asked.

"It was fun," she said a little too forcibly.

"It was fun... But?" he added as if he could read her thoughts.

Eve narrowed her eyes at him, then leaned back in the cold metal chair, reflecting quietly. No way was she about to disclose the profound impact of being embraced by everyone at the party. Revealing how the gathering meant the world to her, providing a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in over two years, seemed too overwhelming to explain to this stranger before her. The love, warmth, and inclusion from everyone lingered in her thoughts, almost bringing on tears that she fought to hold back.

"But nothing," Eve stated, hoping to shut down this topic.

"Well, it sounded like everyone was having a great time."

"You could hear it from here?" Eve asked him quickly. Aaron and Eric's home was on the other side of the community.

Negan huffed, then turned his head and looked out the window. "Well, no one was keeping the volume down, that was for sure. Been up since the music started playing."

Eve stamped down the quick apology that wanted to escape for disturbing his sleep.

"Hope there were people on watch," Negan sensibly said as he returned his stare to her.

"There were," Eve stated.

"Were you just not into the party... or?" Negan asked, letting his question drag out.

"Just not used to all the people, I guess," she shrugged.

Eve wrapped her arms around herself, and then it was her time to stare out the barred window.

As if he caught on to her thoughts, Negan asked, "How long were you out there alone?"

Eve turned, her gaze fixed on the shadow in the corner, uncertain about responding to him. Eventually, she made up her mind and answered.

"A while," she paused. "Almost two years."

"Shiiiit." Negan dragged out as he sympathized with what she'd had to go through.

"Yeah," Eve said with a breathless sigh.

"You from around here?"

"No," said Eve, desperately missing home. "South Carolina."

"A little ways away, huh?"

"Yeah," Eve said again, the gusto in her voice deflated. "A little. Didn't even know I had made it this far north 'till I started noticing more cars with Virginia tags."

"Where you alone by choice?" he questioned her.

"No."

Eve shut her eyes, carrying the weight of solitude due to horrible and tragic things, a subject she chose not to delve into with this stranger. So, she redirected the conversation, turning the focus back onto him.

"How about you?" Eve asked him. "What happened to you when you realized the world had turned to shit?"

"I was with my wife," Negan said, surprising her because she didn't think he'd even answer.

"Y'all from Virginia?"

"I am," he said. "She wasn't."

Eve recognized the past tense. "What happened to her?"

"She had cancer." Then he changed the subject back around to her. "Who were you with?"

No harm in letting that information go, she guessed. "My dad, my husband, and my..." Eve swallowed. "My son."

Her heart sank, and she picked up the bottle by her feet and drank again, all the while knowing she had told herself she wouldn't pick it up again. She couldn't help it, though. Her son's memory was just too hard to think about. Even when Eve had been video-interviewed by Gabriel when she'd first come to Alexandria, she had not disclosed any information about him. So why was she telling him? Eve stopped drinking and sat the bottle back down quickly.

"I'm sorry," Negan said, his voice sounding genuine in the darkness.

"Thank you." She paused. "I'm sorry about your wife."

He sighed. "Don't be. It's my fault she's dead anyway."

"I know the feeling," Eve stated, her voice a whisper. "It's my fault for my family, too."

Eve tried not to dwell on her past anymore, preferring to keep memories at bay. A prolonged silence followed between them. Lost in thoughts of her family, she wondered if Negan shared similar contemplations. As the quiet lingered between them, Eve debated leaving, but his eventual words broke the silence, anchoring her to the chair.

"I think Rick keeps me alive because it's a crueler punishment than death." Negan's voice didn't have the usual smooth confidence anymore; instead, he sounded defeated.

"I'm sorry," she said before her brain could stop the words from coming forth.

"Don't be sorry for me," he said softly. "It's my fault I'm in here."

At a loss for words, Eve mulled over what he'd said, desperately wanting to know more about his past but not wanting to pry. Not anymore. So she kept quiet.

"I wish they would just go ahead and kill me," Negan admitted, his voice incredibly low. He laid his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "I've tried doing it myself occasionally, but they always seem to know when I do it and intervene every time."

This subject Eve was very familiar with. Her arms tingled, and Eve ran a hand over the arm that held the raised scars that ran up and down the inside of her left forearm.

"I know what that's like, too," Eve whispered.

Negan raised his head and looked over. Eve stared back even though she couldn't make out any details of his face. Eve leaned over and grabbed the pinot, taking a deep gulp of the wine. Eve blamed it on the anonymity the darkness provided and the alcohol running in her bloodstream that she opened up.

"I tried to kill myself once," Eve explained, her voice very low. "My mother found me in my apartment."
"She told me that when she had gotten up that morning, something told her she needed to come and see me. After not getting an answer from my cell, my mom came to my house to find me in the bed with the blade still in my arm and a letter on the nightstand that I had written."

A tear escaped, and Eve wiped it away quickly.

"How long ago?" Negan asked, his voice equally as low as her own.

"Almost fifteen years this December."

"Damn," he replied.

"It got better after that, though. Started going to therapy, went to college, and got a decent job afterward."
"Then later, I got married and had a son on the way."

Eve smiled to herself, thinking of the first time she held her son and held herself tighter in the darkness. Why was she admitting all of this?

"And then the world went to shit," Negan interjected, knocking the smile from Eve's face.

"Yes. The world went to shit," Eve agreed.

"Was it worth it?" Negan questioned, his deep voice still low. "In the end, after everything happened... was staying alive still worth it?"

Eve thought about it for a moment. This question was something no one had ever asked her before but something Eve had thought about often. Another tear fell, and she didn't wipe this one away.

"No," Eve admitted, her voice barely penetrating the silence between them. "It wasn't worth it... In the end."

It was the first time she'd acknowledged it out loud, and the guilt it carried was so heavy Eve felt as if she were on the verge of passing out as her ears began to ring. She took another drink of the wine, though she knew she didn't need it.

"I feel the same way." Negan sighed and scooted to the cot's edge, planting his feet on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. "I wish I would have just kept to myself in the beginning. Maybe my wife would still be alive. If I had, I would at least be free right now. Or dead."

"But you're safe in here," Eve said soundly, glad for the slight change of subject. "You won't ever have to worry about the dead again. You're always protected."

"You would think so," he said as he raised his head. "But what if Alexandria gets overrun? What if those walls fall one day?" Negan paused, waiting for her to answer, and when Eve didn't, he said, "Exactly. I'd rather be fighting for my life out there than locked up in here."

"Yeah," she agreed. He did have a point. Eve took another sip of the now lukewarm drink.

"You think I could have some of that? If you got any left."

Eve eyed him carefully for a moment, her back stiff.

"It's warm," she stated.

He laughed a little. "You think I care?"

After a brief pause, Eve leaned forward, positioning the bottle before the bars. As she settled back into the metal chair, Negan rose. His impressive height struck Eve, and she swallowed nervously. Negan then sat on the floor directly in front of her. Observing his silhouette reaching through the bars to grasp the bottle, she listened to the glass clinking against metal. When he brought it to his lips, a moan escaped him, savoring the drink.

"Thank you," Negan said breathlessly as he sat the bottle beside him. He did not return to the cot.

"You're welcome. You can have the rest," she told him.

Negan picked up the bottle and held it up in the light that filtered into the room. There wasn't much liquid inside.

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure," said Eve. "I've had too much already."

Negan downed the rest quickly.

"Warm but still good," he said.

Eve stayed quiet.

Negan's voice dropped as he inquired, "How old was your son? If you don't mind me asking."

Eve, taken aback, regarded him with suspicion. Despite his proximity, she struggled to discern details of his face, except for his closely cropped hair.

"He was ten," Eve whispered.

"Did you lose him before or after?"

"It was after," she sniffed, questioning why she opened up to this prisoner.

Eve had not spoken about her son since his death and rarely allowed herself to even think about him.

Reading the room, Negan said, "You don't have to talk about him."

"It's okay," Eve replied, lifting her head to gaze into his shadowed face. "Jacob was a sweet boy. He was never meant for this kind of world."

Negan nodded in understanding.

"And what about you?" she inquired, curious. "Your wife, was it before or after?"

A moment of hesitation lingered in the air between them before he responded. "It was after."

"From the cancer?" Eve pressed gently.

"Yeah," Negan acknowledged with a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," he admitted.

"This world's rough," Eve said, looking out the bared windows.

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, it is."

Quiet enveloped them once more, and Eve's thoughts gravitated toward her son, who would be thirteen coming February. As she sat in the stillness, Eve wondered the kind of teenager Jacob might have become, envisioning the man he could have grown into. She fought back tears with closed eyes, reluctant to display vulnerability, especially this close. Eve then gazed down at the floor between them; she sought composure before speaking again.

But Eve never got the chance as the sound of shattering glass seized her attention. Startled, she sprung to her feet, her heart racing.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, eyes wide with alarm.

Her feet gave way beneath her, and she swiftly found herself on the ground next to him, hands tightly clutching the bars.

"I'm sorry, Eve!" Negan's voice was raspy. "It's my only chance."

Noticing the shard of glass he held in his hand, the realization of his intentions struck her like a heavy blow.

"Please, no!" Eve pleaded desperately.

Acting on impulse, she reached through the bars, gripping his sleeves. Tears flowed freely now.

"If you do this, they'll kick me out! Maybe kill me!"

Negan hung his head and shook it slowly. "I'm sorry. I have to. They'll never be another chance!"

"Please, Negan. I need this place. I cannot go back out there alone!"

Eve wept, her forehead pressed against the cold bars. Releasing the sleeves she had clung to, she gripped the cell bars, a sense of defeat enveloping her. Amid her tears, as she resigned herself to the inevitable, Negan remained motionless by her side. After what felt like an eternity, though only a few minutes had passed, the noise of the fragment of glass he'd been holding as it hit the ground finally pierced through her consciousness. Eve's head shot up, looking up into the shadowed face before her.

"Th-thank you," Eve stammered through a sniffle.

Negan remained silent, and then, after a moment, he gathered the shattered glass of the wine bottle. Eve winced, aware that he was likely sustaining cuts, as his hands explored the ground blindly for the shards.

"Hold out your shirt," he directed. "I'll put these pieces in there. So, you don't cut yourself."

Eve complied, and Negan carefully placed each piece into her outstretched shirt. Methodical and thorough, he reached through the bars, even checking around her feet for any elusive shards. Despite being reminded he was a killer, Eve wondered why he was helping her by cleaning up the mess instead of carrying out his initial plan.

"I think that's the last piece," Negan announced, interrupting Eve's thoughts as he rose to his feet.

His imposing figure made Eve feel a twinge of guilt for him. Confused by her reaction, she stepped back from the bars, positioning herself beside the metal chair.

"Are you sure you got them all?" Eve inquired, genuinely hoping for his honesty.

Observing as Negan bent down to check the floor, he replied, "Don't feel anything else. I'll clean up whatever's left in the morning before someone comes in."

Unable to suppress her curiosity, Eve pressed, "Why are you doing this?"

He paused for a brief moment before answering. "I don't really know," he admitted ruefully. "You take that and get out of here."

Eve nodded once, and without further words, she departed. Racing towards Tara's home, Eve thankfully encountered no one, her heart pounding in her chest throughout the walk. Closing the front door, Eve finally exhaled, relieved to be home with all the evidence. After securing the door, she hurried up the stairs to her room. Entering the bathroom, she flicked on the light, spotting her small trashcan beside the toilet. With careful hands, she emptied the remnants of the wine bottle into it. She gingerly pulled the t-shirt over her head and added it to the bin. Retrieving the small plastic bag from the trashcan, she tied the handles together and concealed it at the back of her closet beneath a stack of comforters.

Afterward, Eve changed into her nightshirt, turned off the lights, and slipped between the covers. It was a startling realization when she glanced at the clock on the nightstand- it read four thirty in the morning! Despite being well past her usual bedtime, relaxation eluded her. Her mind raced with concerns. Would Negan expose her visit with him? Would he reveal that she allowed him to drink some wine? Would he mention her recklessness in handing him a glass bottle, especially after he had just admitted he'd attempted suicide multiple times in the past? Groaning into her pillow, Eve envisioned various scenarios behind her closed lids.

The sun began peering over the horizon when Eve finally succumbed to sleep.