A pair of souls caught up in the same undertow. Now they're chained together, a heart's desire howling in the shadow for the other…
Nightfall made its descent and the sea of stars made themselves apparent. Moonlight cascaded in shafts of silvery light through the gentle sway of trees, and the subtle rustle of leaves played pleasantly with the low crackle of burning fire. Shadows danced slowly to the beat of flickering light, and the air carried the scent of pine and smoke.
Beneath the stars and graced by moonlight, a weary man beset with hard edges and hollow cheeks warmed a pot of water over a fire. Shadows could not hide the exhaustion that painted his aged face, but within his eyes dark as night lay a determination hard to extinguish.
The man dipped his fingers into the steaming water, smiled faintly to himself as he made sure it wouldn't scald before taking the washcloth in his hand and soaking it thoroughly.
The naked determination in his eye gave way to a desire just as hard to quell, try as the man might to put it out. It had made itself known not long ago, put color to the world he saw lifeless and bleak after the death of his angel.
He couldn't bear to nip it in the bud when he first came upon it, and instead with a hopeless heart did he water it; nurture it with each passing day and night. The mere thought of warmth – of keeping what should not belong – made all that he promised waver in the face of something more.
To take what he did not deserve.
To keep what could never be his.
The woman naked in his arms was temptation itself, sprouting in his heart long thought forever cold and dead a flame that began to burn and raze. A blooming flame called…love.
He cradled the back of her head, and it was so that the man gently, and with hidden love in his eyes, did wipe away the grime and sweat that clung to the beautiful woman in his embrace.
Her short hair, once barely touching her shoulders, had now grown to cascade like a river of black silk. Wild and untamed curls adorned her beauty, accentuating every curve to her lithe body. They framed her face in a mesmerizing display of ebony against pale white, falling just short of the curve to her tempting backside.
Wild and untamed, just like you, my goddess…
He'd never seen her with long hair before, couldn't imagine it until now. She always had it short, but now that he'd seen it, he couldn't imagine her any other way.
But like so many other things when it came to her, the man knew it wasn't something he was supposed to see. To even know something so simple as this was too intimate, and to take care of her long hair wasn't meant to be his. He was no lover, no husband of hers.
And yet, the man couldn't help himself. It wasn't his place, but like everything else he had no choice. He crossed those lines and took care of her.
I'll always take care of you…
Sometimes, when he'd finished all that he had to do for the day, he'd go in search of the most beautiful flowers to adorn her long hair. With tender hands, he would carefully select the most exquisite and rare. Flowers of radiant yellow, royal purple, and glistening white, their vivid petals a stark contrast against her soft, dark tresses.
The man thought it'd be a shame not to. Before the flowers withered for Winter, he wanted to see her become the Goddess of Fall.
And by his hand she did. Her hair splayed out against the earth, a sea of soft black with bursts of color intermittent. Emeralds bejeweled her eyes, catching the sun like facets of nature itself.
As she laid amidst the dying autumnal splendor, a vision of ethereal beauty, she embodied the very spirit of the turning season. And in the man's eyes, she was nothing short of divine. In his heart, she would always be no less.
Only more, thought the man deeply in his heart. Only more…
The washcloth in his hand was merely an excuse to touch what he should not. To feel through the thin fabric with his fingers her supple skin fair and smooth. Without blemish, without scar. She was everything pure and just. She was the light itself, no different than the moonlight that pierced the darkness that befell this ruined world.
This world was full of men like him, but few who remained could ever be like the woman in his arms.
A dying kind. She may very well be the last, thought the man forlornly as he pressed the damp cloth to her skin.
There wasn't a place nearby yet where they could bathe, and so instead he chose a more arduous, yet fulfilling process. Though the man took no joy in seeing this fearsome woman so broken and lifeless in his arms, he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt in taking care of her as he did so now.
The man never once minded it, if anything longed to care for her more. To repay the debt he owed, though it could never truly be repaid. And…he did it because he loved her, as distasteful and horrid a thing that it was for a monster of his likeness to love this angel of a woman.
Taking care not to overlook even a single inch of skin, the man wiped caringly against her forehead before moving onto her cheeks supple unlike his hollow. He watched in fascination as shadows danced exotically on her skin. Spellbound in utter love and awe as the rivulets of water that clung to her glistened in soft hues of amber and gold, reflected by the roaring fire.
As if she couldn't allure him enough – as if not satisfied by these alone in enrapturing his heart, mind and soul – those piercing emeralds that bejeweled her eyes called to the man like that of a siren. They were a world entirely of their own, and they commanded that he drown himself in her seas of lush green forevermore. Drown and give himself entirely to her.
It was a call impossible to resist, and the man found himself giving in just a little more with each passing day. Drowning just a little deeper.
The lambent glow of her emeralds reminded the man of that little green bird he saw decades past. The one he saw before the rain fell. The one he could only dream of grasping within his hand.
My little green bird, thought the man brokenly as he tightened his hold over the woman. She was beautiful when free and flying high above, and it was fate that she'd forever be out of his reach. She belonged to the skies. Belonged free from the filth and the sin.
And me…I belong down here. I've always belonged here, where the monsters toil and the sinners weep. I belong here, in the lowest depths of hell.
The goddess in his arms belonged elsewhere. She should be free, not caged within his arms; her wings broken and her feathers scattered.
A part of him didn't care for the truth, however. Didn't care to set her free. His little green bird was finally within his grasp, so why let go? Why not just keep her?
He'd take care of her, love her with all his heart. Even broken and bound as she was now, she was still just as beautiful as the day he stretched out his hand to try and grasp her from those blackened skies.
Hideous thoughts such as these brewed within the man's cold, black heart. But…they remained just that. Thoughts. Selfish and sinful in nature, but merely that.
Only that. Just that. If you truly love her, then set her free. See those wings unfurl and watch her fly beyond your grasp, and smile when the rain falls one last time. One last time…
To that end, he did everything in his power to protect her. The man couldn't bear to see a single scratch befall her. To see her go hungry, endure the harshness of the unforgiving sun or the growing cold winds.
He gave her everything he could, leaving only enough for himself to keep going. To ensure she was safe and given to her people without harm.
The relentless demands of hunger and thirst gnawed at the man. His eyes slowly began to lose their luster as days passed to weeks. His hair grew long and unkept. His feet blistered and throbbed with every step taken, and bones creaked beneath the weight of an unwavering resolve.
And yet, despite all the pain and wounds, the man smiled. Smiled because all that he endured was for her.
As the toll on his body grew greater, so too did the love in his heart for this goddess of a woman. Even if the journey killed him, she was worth it all and more.
He couldn't mend her broken heart, couldn't even get her to speak or move. He couldn't do anything to help her with the grief that made her fall to this point. He wasn't the man she needed. But even so, he could do this. He could keep her clean. Keep her well-fed. He could kill to protect and ensure she return safely.
To that end, he did all in his power. No matter how insignificant it might seem, the man gave his all and held nothing back.
No matter the cost. No matter the price. She's worth it and more.
With a faint smile on his lips, the man brushed carefully around her piercing green eyes before wiping the cloth gently against her slightly upturned nose. He brushed against the curve of her jaw tenderly before wiping her small chin.
When the washcloth grew too dry or dirty, he would wring out the remaining water before dipping it back into the pot over the fire, making sure that the water wasn't too hot each time that he did.
The man pressed gently over the three little moles on her neck; moved to wipe down her shoulders and arms.
Maybe it was his illusion – or perhaps the warmth from the fire – but the man swore the goddess in his arms was blushing. It wouldn't be the first time he hallucinated such a thing.
Sometimes he thought he'd caught a smile on her lips, or felt the caress of her hand on his face as sleep washed over him and she lay securely atop him.
He thought that perhaps it might just be true, but that was the hopeless love in his heart pulling the wool over his eyes and making him believe dreams could turn true.
This angel of a woman would never grace him with her lovely smile. Never touch him willingly with gentleness and love as he did for her.
Maybe after all this if she doesn't kill me, could we be friends? Such a thought was quickly discarded and laughed at by the man in his heart. He was a fool to dream of her smile or her touch. A fool to dream she'd ever want him and his heart.
Still, he liked to imagine it. Liked to imagine what her smile looked like; what her gentleness felt like. He'd never seen it before. Never known the softness and kindness he knows she has in her heart.
All the man ever knew was the scowl and grimace of this goddess, that southern drawl of hers cold and unforgiving when she did grace him with her voice.
Wearily, he wondered if one day this fierce woman could ever smile for him, because of him. Wondered what that would look like, what her laughter sounded like. He imagined it was the most beautiful melody, like bell chimes swaying softly in the wind. He hoped he could hear it at least once before the end, but he knew better. The man knew…
No. I'll never know. These things, they are reserved only to those she holds dear to her heart. Those she loves. I'm just the monster who brought her pain. Made her suffer. I'll never know, thought the man bitterly as he wrung out the water and soaked the washcloth anew.
The reality of who he was and what he did to her was a blade the man used time and time again to bring his foolish thoughts of love to heel. He'd pare and carve away until his heart bled; remind himself that this was just a passing nightmare she'd soon wake up from.
Soon the monster will go away. I promise. Soon you'll be back where you belong. Back with the people you trust.
The man smiled despite the bleeding of his heart. This was always how it was going to end between them. The pain he felt was his own fault for catching feelings. For falling in love.
Stupid. So fucking stupid. Why her?! You know how this ends. So why? Why are you doing this to yourself?!
You can't choose who you fall in love with. Love isn't something that can be forced or picked. It just happens. The man knew that. It was just…
He killed the man she loved while she was pregnant, and she saw every second of it. Saw with her very own eyes as he murdered so cruelly.
He fell in love with the woman he widowed. The woman who'd kill him.
It's a joke. It's all a joke…
The man smiled to himself and laughed brokenly in his heart.
Damn me for eternity, but I just couldn't resist you, Maggie. I just couldn't resist…
As his thoughts faded into silence, Negan adjusted himself so that Maggie was more comfortable in his arms before resuming the process of wiping her down clean.
Maggie's skin took on a rosy shade of color from the heat of the fire beside them, her lithe figure dreamlike in the moonlight.
Negan bit the inside of his cheek harshly to tamp down on his rising desire for Maggie as he washed over her supple breasts. As he felt the hard, stiff peaks of her nipples graze against the palm of his hand through the thin fabric of the washcloth.
With care and affection, Negan maneuvered to wipe the underside of her breasts. And though he tried to avert his gaze, the man was like a moth to a flame. He couldn't help but be drawn to Maggie's beauty.
She's so damn beautiful. Everything a man could dream of and more.
Negan was a man utterly captivated by the goddess in his arms. His gaze delicately traced the mesmerizing path of glistening rivulets cast in soft hues of amber as they gracefully cascaded down her supple pale skin, some of which hung by the edges of Maggie's nipples peaked and rosy.
It was a madness of its own to see those glistening peaks. That siren's call whispered over Negan's shoulder once more, urging him to palm and squeeze by the handful – the washcloth held be damned.
To instead put those enticing peaks that glimmered hues of amber gold into his mouth and delight in her taste, relish in the forbidden fruit that was this goddess named Maggie.
That whisper over his shoulder grew louder in Negan's ear, calling on the man to conquer Maggie. To possess her and put his mark on her. But the man held steadfast against such thoughts. Against the dark impulses that surged and roared.
I won't hurt you a second time, Maggie.
Negan turned his gaze away for a moment to catch his breath and clear his head. This goddess of a woman ate at his reason. Maggie burned bright and hot, a fire that threatened to consume everything that Negan was if he wasn't careful.
I need to get away from her soon before I do something stupid like kiss her. When winter turns to spring I'll be gone, and you'll be set free from me forever, Maggie. I promise.
Until that time came, Negan could only be a slave to the sight of this goddess held within his arms. Maggie fit so well, like she was molded perfectly to be held by him. Like she was meant to be his.
Perhaps in another life, just not this one. Not this one…
Negan didn't have the heart to look away as rivulets of water pooled across the hollow curve of Maggie's belly. Entranced, he watched as her chest moved up and down in tandem with her soft breathing, causing droplets of water to fall and cascade to the side.
Negan took in every detail, helpless to the feelings in his heart that made him do so. From those pert breasts tipped stiff with rosy peaks to the firm curve of Maggie's hips, to even the thatch of soft, black curls laid between her plump thighs.
Negan took it all in, this temptation of a woman hard to resist. Hunger gnawed at the man, only this time of another kind. A hunger for this goddess in his arms.
His hand soon followed where his eyes had left a trail in their wake. Negan's fingers brushed tenderly against the hollow of her toned belly to the alluring curve of her hip, the washcloth in his hand tenderly brushing over Maggie's thighs before moving to the rest of her legs.
He was meticulous in his care, even taking the time to patiently clean underneath her nails. And after wiping her calves and tending to her feet, Negan turned Maggie over; bent her over his lap so that he could start anew.
From between her shoulder blades to the small of her back, the man worked meticulously to ensure no inch of skin was missed. And as he progressed through his ministrations, Negan suddenly had a thought.
She feels so fragile in my hands. So vulnerable. Maggie never gave me her back. Never let her eyes off the enemy. And now…
Negan released the washcloth in his hand, pressed his bare skin gently against Maggie's back. The man closed his eyes momentarily to just feel. Feel the warmth of her skin, the beat of her heart in her ribcage. To just feel her.
As he moved his slender fingers along the elegant curve of Maggie's spine, Negan could feel her come alive beneath his touch. He felt her pulse quicken and her breath shorten in response to the dance of his fingertips along her flesh.
Lower and lower Negan went, lost to the sensations that gripped him; the emotions that possessed him. Even though his eyes were closed, it made no difference had they been open. Her image was carved indefinitely into his mind.
Negan could see her naked beauty vividly in the darkness that shrouded his vision. He saw those droplets of water colored amber gold drip exotically off her lithe figure. Saw within his heart those piercing green eyes that called for him to give himself entirely.
Nothing was left unknown. He saw it all clearly. Her small chin and slightly upturned nose. Her long lashes and pretty pink lips. From head to toe, to every curve…
It was no blessing to know, but a curse. Cruel to give a starving man a forbidden apple, knowing it could slake his thirst and hunger for all eternity.
It wasn't until he reached lower south of her shapely round bottom that Negan's hand abruptly paused. The man opened his eyes widely in disbelief, shocked to find that he had lost control, even if only temporarily.
Negan quickly withdrew his hand, as if burned by Maggie's skin. He never meant to stray, to touch Maggie's ass with his hand for his own selfish desire.
What the hell were you doing!? You can't afford to lose control. Not even for a second!
In a swift attempt to rectify the situation, Negan leaned to the side, reaching with his hand for the forgotten washcloth left on the ground near Maggie's legs. However, what met his lowered gaze rendered the man's mind momentarily blank.
Negan felt his heart stop for a moment when he caught sight of a clear liquid trailing down Maggie's inner thigh, reflected alluringly by the flickering firelight. It glazed her thatch of curls and dripped off her lower lips.
Negan swallowed hard and bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. He told himself it didn't mean anything. That it was just stimulus from the washcloth against her erogenous parts.
The washcloth, not me. She would never…not by my hand. Not for me. It doesn't mean anything. This doesn't mean anything. It doesn't…
Like a mantra, Negan repeated it again and again as he wiped away at Maggie's arousal. He tried all he could to pretend it hadn't happened, that the sticky fluid staring him in the face wasn't what he knew it to be.
Try as he might, however, the man couldn't deny the intoxicating truth that beckoned and stirred at impulses hard to quell within his heart black as sin.
Stop! Don't think about it. It could mean a thousand different things, but none of them are about you. They're anything but you.
Negan took a deep breath to settle his pounding heart before taking care of the clear liquid that ran down Maggie's thigh. After resoaking the washcloth, he moved to brush gently against her thatch of curls and sensitive folds still glazed with arousal.
It was difficult for the man to keep his thoughts quiet and his own arousal from stirring. The shadows that hid her sex were no longer, and not only could he see every tempting detail, but he felt it upon his hand.
Negan felt the contours of Maggie's lower lips pulse and throb, her tight ring of muscle quiver in response to his touch.
The man watched spellbound as a shudder ran through the young woman draped over his lap. Heard as her breath hitched audibly, breaking the stillness of the night and low crackle of the burning fire.
The thin piece of fabric held in his hand did nothing to obscure Maggie from him. His fingertips seemed to burn from the heat of her core.
Negan cursed in his heart. It was maddening and cruel for him to be tested in such a way. To be tempted and driven to love a woman he knew he could never possibly hope to have.
Those beginning days where he did not love were easy, and his thoughts were wholly distant from the woman before him.
Negan tried desperately to recall eyes of honeyed amber as his cock throbbed and hardened to the point of pain, but all he saw in his mind's eye were dark, lush emeralds. Memories distant and faded of his Lucille in her own naked beauty were broken before they could rise to the surface, and instead all that was reflected in his eyes were this goddess of a woman.
What a cruel goddess, complained Negan both bitterly and helplessly in his heart. Maggie would let him think of no other but herself.
Thankfully for the man, the apex to Maggie's thighs were the last place that needed to be cleaned. And now that he had finally finished for the night, Negan no longer had to suffer the torment inflicted by Maggie's naked beauty.
Negan placed the washcloth to the side, waited for his arousal to wane before turning Maggie back over. Even if she wasn't aware of what was going on, he still didn't want Maggie to see the effect she had on him. Either the love he held for her or the lust he felt.
In some small part Negan was glad Maggie wasn't fully aware of the things happening around her. It was considered a shameful thing to be taken care of in such a way. To have someone wipe your ass or feed you mouth to mouth. To be reliant on another for everything that was usually done behind closed doors.
Not something easy to accept, or even to move on from once it happened. Be it a man or a woman, few could bear the shame felt. Even less if the person caring for you wasn't someone you loved, much less trusted.
How would you feel if the person who fed you, bathed you and cleaned you in your most intimate of places was the very person who caused your world to crumble in the first place? If instead of being taken care of by fellow sheep, it was the wolf who hunted your people that cared for you instead?
I hope you don't remember any of this. That I took you from Alexandria. That it was me who saved you and cared for you, brought you to your people. I only hope that soon you'll wake up from this nightmare and never know it to be true, my little green bird.
Negan glanced down to see Maggie's gaze lowered, her head nestled firmly against his bare chest. The older man felt the erratic rhythm of her breath, the warmth of which pressed hotly against his skin, prompting Negan to cradle Maggie closer in his arms until her breathing settled.
As their clothes dried against the fire, Negan looked up to the night's sky. He sighed wistfully as he took in the sea of stars above their heads, his mind brewing with a thousand different thoughts.
Negan thought briefly on his memories as a boy. Remembered fondly those hot summer days when he'd have a bag full of peaches to eat as he worked at the mills. Thought back sadly on the young man full of anger who went off to fight in lands not his own.
And then Negan smiled. He recalled the night he danced with Lucille, marking the beginning of their life together. The sound of her voice singing in tune with the guitar, her eyes honeyed amber looking only to him. How her hair caught the light of the sun and stars.
Lucille. I'm so sorry, my angel. You deserved so much more...
Wearily and with such thoughts fading away into the depths of his heart, Negan thought about when it first happened. The news on the tv. The riots. The unprecedented rate of people getting sick and dying. Lucille's cancer treatment being indefinitely postponed due to hospitals and clinics being filled to the brim.
The world was falling, and Negan had never felt so powerless. It haunted him since; all the things he could have done differently. All that he should've and shouldn't have.
''I've done things I wish I could take back,'' said Negan softly. ''A long time before you, Maggie. Before the end, and after. And yet…there is no turning back. We make our choices and live with the consequences. The rest is void. Now I'm at the end of the road, but you…''
Trailing off, Negan then looked down at Maggie in his arms, smiled softly as he grazed his thumb lightly against her cheekbone.
''Live well for the people you lost, Maggie. Be strong. Be happy. For them, and for you. You owe it to them and to yourself. So no matter what it takes – no matter what you have to do – you grasp what your heart desires and never let go. Don't let go, Maggie.''
The man turned away from her after speaking, the shadows of the fire shrouding parts of his haggard face, but not the pain in his eyes.
After some time had passed, Negan reached for their clothing, dressing Maggie first before himself. As he buttoned up the last few buttons to her shirt, Negan thought to himself out loud:
''In another life, I really would've liked to know you. But…there's no turning back,'' whispered Negan softly with a touch of regret. ''What's done is done, and after this, you and I will never cross paths again. I promise, Maggie. This is the end.''
For me, but not for you, my little green bird.
Gently settling Maggie onto the bedroll, Negan turned his attention to preparing their meal for the night.
With his back turned to Maggie as he started on cooking, Negan never saw the subtle change in the young woman's expression. How Maggie's eyes narrowed, those piercing emeralds of hers darkening at his words and promise. How those pretty pink lips of hers curled slightly to a frown.
All Negan saw when he turned back to check on her from time to time was Maggie's initial, seemingly unchanged doll-like countenance, no different than what he saw from before.
And yet – unfelt and unseen by the both of them – his heartfelt words uttered so freely and sincerely had changed everything. A stone thrown that rippled the waters.
Maggie's eyes once free to wander now subconsciously fixated themselves on Negan. Refusing to let him leave her sight. Refusing to let him leave her.
Maggie struggled to breathe as a sense of crisis gripped her heart. Yet, as she grappled to comprehend why she felt this way, it faded away. It was like water slipping through one's fingers. Only a faint, cold sensation was all that was left.
Maggie felt this cold sensation lingering in her heart and realized it for what it was. She was no stranger to it. Regret. Loss. Fear.
But for what?
Negan's promise of the end ignited a sense of crisis deep within Maggie's heart that had yet to reveal itself; sowed a seed of fear that would burgeon with the passage of time.
A fear that would only make itself known when the autumn leaves completely fell and the winds turned cold, marking the fall of winter. A day that marked the end, and the beginning of something entirely new.
A day of sanctuary from the coming storm.
Negan's prior words came to Maggie's mind then. They resonated deeply with her when he first spoke them, but now they took on a different meaning though she had yet to realize it.
So no matter what it takes – no matter what you have to do – you grasp what your heart desires and never let go. Don't let go, Maggie.
His tall image all that was reflected in her dark, piercing emeralds, Maggie curled her small hand into a tight fist.
Maggie was confused as she looked to his towering figure by the fire. Her heart ached and yearned, but she wasn't sure for what yet. She didn't know why Negan's words continued to echo in her mind. Didn't know what it was that her heart desired though it called to her, but Maggie swore nonetheless.
I will be happy. I will be strong. And I will live well. For them, and for myself. Never again will it be taken from me. Never again will it escape me. What my heart desires…I won't ever let go.
Maggie's thoughts turned to earlier as she quietly watched Negan tend to their meal roasting over the fire. She delicately put a hand to her cheek and felt the faint blush still lingering on her skin.
Of course, Maggie noticed the look in Negan's eye as he cleaned her. How his gaze fell on her body like a pair of invisible hands, taking in all that she was from head to toe like a gentle caress.
But rather than be disgusted, her body burned hotly. The way the man looked at her, the worship in Negan's eyes, it made Maggie's heart swell with delight. She wanted him to look at her more. To touch her body with his coarse hands and satisfy the desire that yearned deeply within her.
The washcloth did nothing to slake her desire, only serving to further frustrate Maggie instead. She needed his hands on her. Craved for his rough and calloused skin against hers, not that soft fabric soaked warmly with water.
And when it did happen, Maggie wasn't prepared in the slightest. Negan's large hand pressed firmly against her back, trailing its way languidly along the graceful curve of her spine. Explosions of color danced before her eyes then, and it felt as though she had just learned how to breathe for the very first time in her life.
The sensation proved to be too much for Maggie when Negan's hand brushed lightly against her sex, and it nearly drove her insane when his hand stopped just at the edge.
Why did he stop?! Go further. If it was just a little further…
Maggie's arousal made itself known to the man clear as day from between her parted thighs, but the events that occurred thereafter were far from what she wanted and needed. Negan's hand returned and touched her once more, but it was with the washcloth between them.
Bullshit! This bastard…
Anger suffused into Maggie's lust-filled heart at the loss of Negan's bare touch, and she had to grit her teeth not to scream with rage. How could he stop?! The young woman felt robbed of what should have been hers, and she'd have glared daggers at the man if she hadn't been bent over his lap looking at the floor instead.
Maggie only found relief from the intense heat that gripped her when Negan completed his ministrations, cradling her close to his chest. In that moment, all that was left in her unsatisfied heart was confusion.
When did I change?
Maggie remembered the very beginning of their journey together. Being in Negan's arms as he carried her, forced to look at his face for hours on end.
She hated being so close and in his arms. Hated the enveloping scent of leather and rain that filled her senses, and the unsettling comfort it provided as she inhaled it.
Hated that she could hear his heart from where her head rested on his chest, and Maggie hated the calm that it gave her to hear his heart beat so strongly against her ear.
When did I change?
Where she would simply close her emeralds so as to not look at him, Maggie now always had her eye on Negan.
She couldn't stop taking in his features, learning the subtle ticks that revealed his emotions hidden underneath. How his eyes would sharpen when he focused, the twitch to the edge of his lips when he was irritated.
In those beginning days when he hardly spoke, Maggie learned to listen in other, far more intimate ways. Drawn to understand and unravel his secrets. To continue to read and learn this man who she knew so little about.
Maggie found herself drawn to the man a little more with each passing day and night. Her body had long accepted his touch and yearned for more, and in time her mind, heart and soul fell in line.
Shame. There wasn't any. Not anymore. Not when Negan fed her or undressed her to change her undergarments. Not when he held her as she relieved herself or when he cleaned the day's filth and sweat from her body.
It became routine. Natural. It came to the point where Maggie felt off if she wasn't in Negan's arms for hours on end. If she wasn't sitting on his lap as he fed her slowly with his lips upon hers. If he wasn't always by her side and caring for her.
She'd miss the sound of his husky voice when he left her to hunt. Missed that roguish grin and rich laughter that warmed her heart and made her feel safe.
She missed him.
Maggie's heart ached every time she saw Negan walk away, leaving her behind. The young woman didn't understand at first. Couldn't.
It took a long time until she accepted the truth.
When did I change?
Dark thoughts usually came to mind in those beginning days. Memories that burdened the soul and threatened to break Maggie into pieces all over again.
Nightmares plagued her nights of rest, and in those hellish dreams the people she loved screamed. Sometimes it was Beth. Sometimes it was her father. In others it was Glenn and her boy Hershel. Screaming in pain. Screaming at her.
Asking aggrievedly why she didn't do more. Why she didn't fight harder. Questioning harshly why she didn't kill Negan. How she could live with herself for even allowing him to hold her, much less everything else that he did in his care for her.
In those plagued dreams that never seemed to end she saw Beth. Her sweet sister bled from her head, the blood staining her golden locks as tears streaked down her ashen face.
Why didn't you look for me, Maggie? You gave up so easily on me and for what?! For Glenn?! You chose him over your own sister?! You never noticed me crying for you. Never chose me! You always left me behind when I needed you most…Why, Maggie? Why did you let me go? Beth's voice wavered between sorrow and anger. You left me behind, and now I'm trapped here. All alone…
Maggie tried to reach her, but no matter how much she ran, Beth was always beyond her reach. They all were.
She'd see her father then. See him kneeling on the ground just as he did that day he died by that despicable man. In her dreams his head was on the ground and at his knees, his white shirt dyed red and spreading until his blood reached her feet.
Maggots crawled from his hollow eyes, his teeth rotten and skin decaying. He snarled like that of the undead as he spoke hoarsely to her.
Look at what you've become, my daughter. A leader? You couldn't even save your own family. You failed us all, Maggie. You were supposed to protect them! Protect your sister! Your son! Instead, they're gone because of you. Their blood is on your hands…
From the desolate prison to the dark woods, her nightmare morphed. Maggie was on her knees, and before her was Glenn. His head was caved in and his eye drooped out of its socket, but still he looked at her from where he lay. Only this time there was no love. No determination to find her. Only scorn, anger and hatred.
Glenn struggled to speak, but when he did his words came through in gasps of air and spittle of blood.
How could you let our son die, Maggie?! What is wrong with you? Can't you even keep one person you love alive?! And how could you betray me? How could you let Negan live after what he did to me?! How could you let him touch you?! Answer me!
Again her surroundings changed. Maggie found herself back in the familiar streets of Alexandria. The early morning sun cast an eerie glow, illuminating the haunting aftermath of the Whisperers' massacre on her people.
The acrid smell of burning wood and flesh seared her senses once again, and the mutilated and suffering figure of her baby boy squeezed Maggie's heart once more with despair.
Stricken with shock and grief, Maggie choked back a sob as she watched Hershel crawl to her, his intestines dragging behind him as he made his way with his body torn in half.
A trail of blood was left behind, and as her baby boy crawled, he wept.
It hurts, mom. It hurts so much! I'm scared. I don't want to die. Mom? Where are you?! Are you still angry with me? I'm sorry! Please! Please don't be mad at me anymore…
Maggie knew the voices weren't real, but the pain of their judgement was too much to bear. Witnessing their distorted, broken forms, bloodied and battered once more, became an overwhelming assault on her senses.
She couldn't handle it. Couldn't listen to those screams of anger and torment and not go insane with guilt and despair. Maggie teetered on the brink of crumbling beneath the weight of it all once more, but then he came to her.
Negan knew. Somehow, he always knew what she needed. Perhaps he heard her screams in the night, or perhaps he'd learned to listen to her in far more intimate ways just as she did him.
Maggie couldn't tell, but Negan took care of her. He always did. When night fell, he didn't separate from her like usual. Didn't go to the other side of the fire as he did all those times before.
Negan stayed with her all throughout the night. Had her sleep atop him as he wrapped his arm securely around her waist, stroking her growing mess of curls as the long night deepened. And as she closed her emeralds to the soothing beat of his heart, Negan sang to her softly that song of his that drove away all her pain and sorrow.
I'll stay with you, by your side, sang Negan softly to Maggie in his arms. I will hold you, and protect you. So let love warm you…till the moonlight takes you. I'll stay…with you…by your side…so close your tired eyes…
As the song finished, he'd whisper softly, Close your eyes, Maggie. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you…
Sleep was hard to come by in the nights that came before, but Negan soothed her to slumber ever since. Lying atop him and sleeping against his chest was like resting atop a bed of warm coals in a cold, winter night.
The nightmares never came again as Maggie found solace in his arms. Felt safe and secure nestled within his embrace. Negan's heart silenced the screams, his mere presence quelling the pain and guilt that tore at her insides.
Negan kept to her most nights, but there were times when he didn't. Maggie didn't like it when he let go. When he separated himself from her and kept to himself when he was done caring for her.
Most nights Negan kept her seated atop his lap, his arms securely holding her waist all the while he spoke about random things. Sometimes he'd whisper sweet nothings into her ear in an attempt to get a rise out of her. Other times he'd make jokes or vaguely speak of the old world, taking care not to delve into his past as he did.
But there were times where – after tending to her needs – Negan would retreat, only returning to her side when it was time to ensure she slept peacefully.
Maggie's heart would ache something fierce when he walked away. When the laughter died and the silence grew.
Many times she wanted to reach out and grab Negan before he left her reach, but she couldn't. Maggie was afraid she'd never hear his laughter again. Afraid he'd never hold her in his embrace and care for her as he did now.
Maggie was afraid that the only thing her heart desired would disappear forever.
These fears were sown deep into her heart, but she didn't know the truth of them yet. Maggie only had a faint sense of their existence. A faint sense of what her heart desired and what these fears that rooted themselves permanently in her soul meant.
All Maggie knew was that she didn't want things to change. Didn't want this fragile peace and happiness she felt to turn into ash.
Looking to his broad back before her, Maggie put a hand over her beating heart. What Negan said echoed in her mind once more, but Maggie found herself no closer to the truth.
What my heart desires…
Maggie didn't even know that she had buried her nose into Negan's red scarf. Breathing in his scent to calm herself was instinctive to the young woman already.
Before she could think further and attempt to clear the confusion in her heart once and for all, Negan had already approached with their meal. Maggie's stomach cooed as she breathed in the aroma of roasted fish and hares, and Negan smiled at her as he approached.
The man set her down on his lap, and asked Maggie the same question he always asked ever since he saved her.
''How about it, baby girl?'' asked Negan with a grin as he held the plate of food towards her. ''Feel like eating by yourself?''
Maggie answered as she always did. With silence.
He sighed, and the sadness laced within made her heart ache. Negan, he really did care for her.
The man risked his life for her more than once. The war with the Whisperers wasn't his to fight, but Negan involved himself in it by killing several of their men.
And he did it for me.
Negan could have looked the other way and left her behind. Could have slipped away and none would be the wiser. Carrying her only slowed him down, and tending to her needs both day and night in this fallen world was a task few, if any at all would have taken upon themselves.
Certainly not between enemies. I chose for him to rot in that cell. He even begged me to end it, but I wanted him to hurt. To suffer for the rest of his days. Only a handful of hours had passed since I made that decision, and still he chose to save me. Why? Why?!
The only people who still remained in this world were survivors. There were no benefits to be gained by keeping her. Maggie was dead weight in every sense of the word. An extra mouth to feed. She was broken and listless when he saved her, and for what?
Negan hoped she'd never know of any of this. Never know of all the times he gave her the food and water; starved himself so that she could have a full belly. All the times he walked with her in his arms, regardless of the fatigue and pain.
He didn't have to do any of the things that he did. He didn't have to ensure her well-being or comfort her in the night. Didn't have to sing to her so soothingly or try with all his might to piece her back whole.
Didn't have to go so far for me.
The man was slowly killing himself just to keep her alive, and for what? Maggie gnashed her teeth just thinking about it.
All of this, only for him to walk away?!
In the beginning, Maggie firmly believed Negan had some ulterior motive in mind. Thought maybe he wanted to get into her good graces or use this as a means to gain favor with the group. She even briefly suspected that Negan might seek revenge for when she confronted him in his cell.
Maggie thought he wanted something. Anything from her. She thought a million different things as to what it could possibly be, each more unsettling than the last.
Yet, as their interactions continued to unfold, and as she witnessed Negan's unwavering dedication and selflessness to herself, Maggie was confronted with a revelation that defied all her expectations. It was a truth so profound – so unexpected – that she could scarcely believe it.
There was no ulterior motive lurking in Negan's heart, thought Maggie in shock.
Despite all her suspicions, Maggie grappled for a long time with the unsettling truth that Negan's intentions were genuine. That there was nothing he wanted for himself. All that the man seemingly wanted was for her to be safe and sound, back with her people.
And far, far away from him.
Maggie's thoughts churned like a tempest within her, a storm of conflicting emotions raging against the backdrop of Negan's unexpected tenderness. She had spent so long consumed by hatred, driven by the memory of Glenn's brutal murder at Negan's hands. But now…
Negan…who am I to you? Who are you to me? Because I just don't know anymore. I've changed. I don't hate you any longer. I…I don't know what it is that I feel for you.
The lines that once seemed so starkly drawn had blurred, leaving her adrift in a fog of confusion. Maggie couldn't deny the changes within herself any longer. The flames of hatred that once burned so fiercely had dwindled to mere embers; threatened to be extinguished by a storm of unfamiliar feelings.
I just don't know anymore…
Maggie thought about his words then as Negan started to chew on the food for her. How he said they'd never cross paths again. She had longed to see her friends again after so long, but now Maggie felt a faint sense of dread.
The promise would be fulfilled, and he'd be gone.
Where would Negan go?
Maggie didn't know why, but she suddenly imagined him settling down somewhere far away with some illusory woman.
She saw him laughing in her mind's eye – smiling, basking in the warmth of a love she could scarcely remember. And alongside him stood that phantom woman, a vision of perfection untouched by the ravages of reality.
That woman laughed and smiled just as well, and she was happy. Peaceful. She would hear his laughter and know his touch, and would never have to fret such comforts and joys from disappearing.
The thought of Negan finding happiness with another stirred something primal within Maggie, a gnawing sense of inadequacy she struggled to suppress.
Was it envy? Resentment? Or something else entirely?
Maggie had never been envious of another in all her life, so the sourness that squeezed her heart something awful was hard to recognize for what it was.
In her heart was Jealousy, and the ache of longing for a happiness she feared would forever elude her grasp.
You said your life is in my hands. To kill you or let you go. Is there really no other choice? Why can't you stay, Negan? If…if there's a place for you with us, would you stay?
Something in her told Maggie otherwise, but she didn't want to listen. No. She'd argue on his behalf. Sway her people into giving him a chance. In her heart she believed there was hope for a third option.
There has to be, thought Maggie stubbornly.
As that thought rippled deeply in her heart, Negan moved to cradle the back of Maggie's head. With a subtle, yet deliberate touch, he gently parted her lips with his thumb. And as their breaths mingled in the warm glow of the firelight, Negan pressed his own to hers, tenderly feeding her the food in his mouth.
Stay, thought Maggie suddenly in her heart, her emeralds fluttering to a close as she leaned into his embrace atop his lap.
She barely paid attention to the food that passed down her throat. All Maggie cared to focus on was the feel of Negan's lips, his tongue twining around hers. The taste of him. The touch of him. The feel of his slender fingers snaking their way into her mess of curls, holding her head in place as he kissed her slowly, and ever so gently.
How Maggie felt so adored and revered by the man, her pedestal his lap to be admired and worshipped as Negan's goddess.
Stay, thought Maggie louder in her heart. Stay with me, Negan…
''Good girl,'' murmured Negan with a soft grin. He wiped the dribble that spilled from the corner of Maggie's lips, watching as she swallowed the last of the roasted fish and hare.
Negan averted his gaze then before he drowned himself in the depths of her captivating emerald eyes. Instead, the man sought solace in the dance of flickering flames, peering into the fire as he gathered his scattered composure.
Everything about Maggie was just too damn good. Having her on his lap, gazing into her emeralds, tasting her lips…
Hell, not even the finest gin can compare to the taste of her. Like fire and rain. A slow burn on the lips at first, but then comes the chilling downpour. Refreshing and crisp, colder than ice on the way down.
Negan sighed in his heart as he licked his lips; savoring the lingering taste of Maggie before it could fade.
Like fire and rain, thought the man wistfully as he closed his eyes momentarily. He didn't dare to rest before, but in this moment, Negan allowed himself a rare moment of respite. To surrender himself to a peace he'd never truly know.
The warmth of the fire, the sound of trees swaying gently in the wind, and the content that filled his heart on this night. There was no war. No screaming of men. The wind was gentle, not howling and scathing.
The world was quiet, but Negan wasn't alone. Even though it could never last, at least in this fleeting moment, Maggie was his.
His purpose. His reason. His light.
You are like fire and rain, my little green bird. Fierce, passionate, and…
Negan opened his eyes and looked to Maggie in his arms. He couldn't help but clutch her tighter to himself.
…forever beyond what I can grasp.
She was a balm that soothed every pain and sorrow. She offered peace and content, and even happiness where there shouldn't be for a man like him. An angel she was, just like Lucille. But she wasn't his angel. Maggie could never really be his.
What's a dream for you is nothing but a nightmare for her. Don't forget who you are. Who Maggie is.
The sweetness of her in his mouth turned bitter then as Negan reminded himself that this was nothing but wrong.
I'm what's wrong…
Negan let go of Maggie and moved her gently off his lap. He made sure she was as comfortable as could be before withdrawing to sit on the opposite end of the fire, far and away from her.
Lost in the turmoil of his own thoughts, Negan failed to notice the subtle shift in Maggie's expression. The hurt flickering in her seas of green, the ghost of a smile that graced her lips when held in his embrace that faded into disappointment as he retreated.
Had the man been more attuned to her emotions, perhaps he would have seen the silent plea in Maggie's gaze, the unspoken longing for closeness and connection. But consumed by his own inner turmoil, Negan remained unaware.
And even if he did see it, Negan was more likely to pass if off as Maggie dreaming of the past, or yearning for what was taken from her. A thousand different things Negan would assume it all to be, but never would he think of himself.
Negan smiled bitterly. It was a good comparison, Maggie and gin. Like the drink, he kept telling himself ''just one more drop.'' One more couldn't hurt, right? Just a taste, and yet that small taste made it harder each passing day to put her down. Like a greedy king, Negan wanted it all and more.
He was getting addicted to it all, everything that Maggie was and offered. And that scared Negan more than anything.
Love.
He didn't think he'd love ever again. It was a curse and a blessing. A double-edged sword. It kept him going even when his body begged to stop. Kept him on the straight path to do what was right for Maggie.
Yet, with love came longing. An ache that gnawed at his soul. It teased him with visions of a future that could never be, tantalizing him with the prospect of a woman forever beyond his reach.
Love made him dream of something more.
Each day and night brought a taste of that forbidden dream. A fleeting glimpse into a world where Maggie was his, where she belonged to him completely as his woman. His wife.
He savored the sweetness of her lips, traced the contours of her beauty as it unfolded before him like a delicate flower in bloom. He held her close, relishing the softness of her tresses coiled around his fingers, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his own.
In those quiet moments where the world fell silent, he witnessed the subtle nuances of Maggie's slumber—the adorable scrunch of her nose, the flutter of her long, dark eyelashes against her cheeks. He'd trace patterns against her supple skin, count the little moles that adorned her neck and made Maggie unique.
Sometimes, she'd drool on him, prompting a soft chuckle that he stifled with care, unwilling to disturb her slumber. Sometimes, her emeralds would catch the light of the sun, and Negan felt the world around him blur into insignificance, leaving only the radiant beauty of this goddess to remain before him.
In those moments of bliss, Negan surrendered himself entirely to Maggie, helpless to the depths of his love for her that held no bounds.
The man could do nothing but fall for her, this goddess of a woman.
If circumstances were different – if he were anyone else but himself - and if Maggie weren't withdrawn from the loss of her son, then Negan would have dropped to his knees and proposed right then and there when he realized his love for her.
Nothing worse than a man full of wishful thinking. Remember who you are, you fucking bastard. Where you came from. I move beneath the roar of thunder and fall of rain. Among monsters do I bleed, broken and torn. I come from the night…and to the night I shall return. This was always how it was going to end. It was only a matter of time.
All Negan could do now was cherish each stolen moment, and when the time came, bury the love he had for Maggie deep within his heart where it could no longer be felt.
Easier said than done, but it must be done.
Negan laughed softly. ''Love. It's a heavy burden on the heart,'' whispered the man in sorrow to the dancing flames. ''A weight too heavy to carry, yet too precious to discard.''
His love for Maggie was not like that of others, where one's love burned bright. His love for the goddess with green eyes was but an ember buried deep within, casting shadows of longing within the darkness for what could never be.
And so, Negan found himself torn between the desire to be near her and the need to keep his distance.
The man knew he'd return to her side when it was time for bed, but until then, he believed it best to stay away. It was a departure from his previous behavior, where he would have kept his distance after tending to Maggie's needs.
But that all changed when he discovered she couldn't sleep. Haunted by nightmares, Negan initially assumed they were rooted in the past, revolving around himself and that fateful night seven years prior.
He didn't know what to do when he saw Maggie scream and thrash in the midst of night. Comfort her? Negan thought he'd only make things worse if it were true that her nightmares were about him.
Reason told him to stay away, but that ember of love that ached and yearned within his heart made the man go to her. Made him take Maggie into his arms and have her sleep atop his chest. He sang and cradled her head close to his heart, rocked her gently all the while hoping for a miracle.
And his hope came true. Maggie settled in his arms, quieted down and eased into a comfortable slumber. She stopped frowning and shivering, and the tears that fell stopped altogether.
From that night forward he always kept to her, and ever since, Maggie slept peacefully. Her tense and frigid body never failed to relax once he held her in his embrace, and Negan didn't know what to make of it. Of any of it.
Like all else, the man told himself it could be a thousand different things, but never him.
An old familiar embrace. Maybe she thinks I'm someone else. Maybe that man I killed. Glenn. Maybe Maggie thinks it's him holding her, easing her from the nightmares that trouble her.
Negan sighed, but then flashed a ghost of a bittersweet smile.
''That would be…for the best,'' he murmured to himself, his words carrying a solemn resolve.
With a heavy heart, Negan reached for the guitar near their supplies. He felt the need to play. To soothe his tattered and weary soul.
He'd stumbled upon the battered thing earlier in the day, tucked away in the trunk of a car he'd come across while hunting for hares and scavenging for supplies.
Negan closed his eyes as he cradled the guitar in his arms, his fingers beginning to tremble as he traced the contours of its neck as if greeting an old flame he had long been estranged from.
He smiled sadly as he brushed against the old grain, recalled all those days and nights Lucille played for him. Even now her music haunts him. Melodies beautiful and chilling, they still grace his ears.
With a slight hesitance, Negan began to play. In the calm of night, a haunting melody filled the air, each note resonating with a depth of emotion that words could never express.
His fingers moved effortlessly across the strings, coaxing forth all that he could never speak aloud what lay hidden in his heart. The ember of love held deep within, the yearning and the sorrows – he expressed it all.
With each strum, Negan lost himself in the music, allowing it to carry him away on a journey of remembrance and reflection. Memories flooded his mind – of a time before when life was simpler, and the weight of the world had yet to bear down upon his shoulders.
Eyes of honeyed amber and emerald green flashed through his mind, and the man smiled bitterly. Negan wept for all that was lost, and for all the choices he should have – and shouldn't have – made.
The campfire painted Negan's face in shadows as he played, his eyes lost in someplace else. Maggie saw a side to Negan she had never seen before, but every day he showed her something new, revealed that beneath the monster lay the beating heart of a man.
Broken and stained black with sin, but a heart all the same. It frightened her to see more beneath the darkness, but like a month to a flame she was drawn to what lay hidden. To see this side of him and to know the truth.
Negan picked up the guitar and played a song Maggie had never heard before, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and listen.
Of course Negan knows how to play the guitar. How fitting, she thought.
What Maggie didn't expect was how good Negan played. His fingers danced with ease against the strings, his creation a melody that Maggie could only describe as full of sorrow, yet tinged with the echoes of hope for better days that might never come.
This is him, she thought. The real Negan. Beneath the theatrics and flair, beneath the jokes and crude behavior – a man of so much more lived and breathed. This is him…
The song ended all too soon, but Negan was quick to play another. Only this time, the one he began to play was one Maggie had heard countless times before.
Negan smiled at her from beyond the fire, and she knew this one was for her.
Only for me…
It started with a whistle.
Before their journey together, his whistle haunted her dreams, serving as the prelude to that cruel night. Yet this was a whistle different altogether. It reached Maggie's ears at her weakest just as the one those many years ago did, but this one brought a subtle smile to her lips; caused her to sigh tenderly in her heart.
''I'll stay with you, by your side,'' Negan sang, his voice soft and soothing as he began to play the strings. ''I will hold you, and protect you. So –''
Just as Negan began, the strings to the guitar suddenly snapped, the sound cutting off abruptly. Maggie's heart sank at the unexpected interruption, but Negan was undeterred.
With a sigh he gently put down the guitar, and looking to the night's sky, Negan resumed where he left off.
''So let love warm you…till the moonlight takes you. I'll stay…with you…by your side…so close your tired eyes…''
The lullaby ended all too soon. As his voice faded into nothingness, Negan tore his gaze away from the sea of stars above. The man instead looked to the woman seated across the fire, to whom every word he sang had been dedicated to.
What Negan saw took his breath away. He almost didn't see it if not for the fire, Maggie's tears reflected in the light. Her emeralds, usually so guarded and distant, were now brimming with tears, glistening in the soft glow of the firelight.
For an instant, Negan sat frozen in disbelief, the sight of Maggie hitting him like a punch to the gut. He could only watch in shock, his heart twisting with anguish as her lips trembled and silent tears streaked down her cheeks.
Negan quickly snapped out of it and rushed to her side, his thoughts of keeping away all but forgotten as he kneeled before her.
''I…''
He found himself at a loss for words, the weight of Maggie's tears rendering him speechless. And so, instead of trying to find the right thing to say, Negan let his actions speak instead. With a gentle touch, he wiped away Maggie's tears, his thumb moving tenderly across her damp cheeks.
As a shudder passed through her, Negan instinctively pulled Maggie into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, stroked her long mess of curls. And as she sobbed in his embrace, Negan gently rocked her back and forth.
''Shh. It's alright, Maggie,'' he murmured softly, his voice a comforting whisper against the quiet of the night. ''Let it all out. Let out all the sadness, hate and fear that's been building up inside of you. Just let it out.
''That's the first step,'' whispered Negan as he cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear that fell from her emerald eye. ''You're strong, Maggie. Too strong for your own good. It's okay to fall apart. I have you. I'll pick up the pieces. For you, I always will. I promise.''
Hearing Negan's words and feeling the weight of his promise to her, Maggie couldn't hold back her emotions any longer. The weight of all that she had lost; all the pain, sorrow, fear and hate that welled within her – she released it all in a heart-wrenching cry that pierced the quiet night.
In his arms Maggie fell apart, allowed herself to drown in the depths of her overwhelming grief. She allowed herself to cry the tears she had been holding back, to scream the screams she had been stifling.
Maggie's cries shook her body as she buried her face against Negan's chest, soaking his newly dried shirt with tears and snot. And with each sob that wracked her body, Maggie let go of the burdens she had been carrying, leaving her feeling raw and exposed in Negan's embrace.
Tidal waves of all that she had buried came crashing down on Maggie, washing her away and breaking her.
''I'll pick up the pieces, Maggie. So don't you worry,'' murmured Negan tenderly as he hugged her closely.
He sang to her then, soft and soothingly.
''I'll stay with you, by your side.
I will hold you, and protect you.
So let love warm you…
till the moonlight takes you.
I'll stay…with you…
by your side…
so close your tires eyes…
And I'll wait, and soon I'll see your smile in a dream.''
Negan felt the tension in Maggie slowly bleed out as he sang to her. In time her sobs began to wane, and the intermittent shudders that passed grew less and less as Negan caressed her hair; drew soothing circles against her back. Slowly the tremors settled, and her crying evened out into silence.
With Maggie nestled against him, her head resting against his chest, Negan gazed out at the dying fire. Time had passed as he soothed and calmed the woman in his arms. The flames had dwindled into glowing coals, casting a warm, lambent light over the campsite.
Negan peered down to see Maggie's face now peaceful in slumber, her breathing even and steady, and her eyelashes adorned with glistening teardrops. Her little upturned nose was reddened, and traces of dried tears marked her cheeks, but in Negan's eyes she was still that same beautiful goddess.
Always…
''Volim te, Maggie. My little green bird,'' murmured Negan softly to Maggie as she slumbered peacefully in his arms. He moved a wisp of hair that clung to her cheek, putting it behind her ear before withdrawing his hand.
Negan let himself sink into the quiet of the night now that she had calmed. And as he drifted wearily into sleep, cradling Maggie in his arms, he smiled.
Lucille, you once told me that the greatest act of bravery is to love again, despite the fear of loss. You were right, my angel. But this love I have is one I'm destined to lose. Even so, I'm happy.
I've never felt so alive since the day you died and my heart ran cold. I'd forgotten what this feels like. Ever since you left my side, I've been wandering. Not living, just surviving. And Maggie, she makes me feel alive. Crazy, right?
I'm ready to go home now. I'm ready for the other side. I won't be going where you are, but I'll be by your side soon enough. Just wait a little longer, alright? Maggie's depending on me, and I won't fail her. I won't fail the woman I love a second time…
As embers burned into ashes, a single teardrop fell.
No matter the cost. No matter the price. She's worth it and more. So, wait for me, Lucille. I'll see those wings unfurl and watch Maggie fly beyond my grasp, and smile when the rain falls one last time.
One last time, and I'll have earned my rest.
For you and her, one last time…
The man smiled before closing his eyes.
A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience! I know it's been a while since I last updated.
Funnily enough, this whole chapter wasn't planned except for a small part. Initially this was meant to be a few hundred words of a flashback showing Negan playing the guitar to Maggie for the next coming chapter, but one thing led to another and now I have this lovely 10k chapter. I'm so happy that things turned out the way they did, since this chapter touches more deeply on the struggles both Maggie and Negan went through before the events of Sanctuary.
This flashback takes place after Negan washes Maggie in the lake and after their dance beneath the sea of stars, so it's a continuation of those chapters.
Chapter 13 will resume right where 11 left off.
I know there's more I wanted to write here in the author's note, but it's 6 in the morning, and I'm drawing blanks. I really wanted to get this chapter posted! Hope you enjoyed reading the chapter as much as I did writing it!