Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Go now.

Daryl didn't hesitate, he couldn't. It was his only chance.

He briefly wondered if it was another trap, but he had to risk it. He moved slower this time, listening for any and every noise around him. When he heard people arguing he ducked into one of the rooms. A jar of peanut butter was on the side table. He opened it and scooped out handfuls quickly, knowing some real food would help him get some energy back. He shed the dirty sweats and changed into normal clothes so it would be harder to recognize him.

When he realized it was Dwight’s room — the mini carvings a major giveaway — Daryl wanted to scream. He wanted to trash it. Instead, he finished the peanut butter and waited until the people outside the room went quiet. He couldn’t resist pushing over the table of mini sculptures and left the room—

The next thing Daryl knew was the feeling of walker teeth tearing into his skin, ripping him apart starting at his stomach. He screamed and fought, but he couldn’t move. Hands were holding him down by his shoulders and his hips as they fed him to the dead.

He opened his eyes and saw Rick standing above him, saying something. Pressing down on his shoulders, pinning him as the walkers fed.

“Rick, please—” he begged, but Rick didn’t let go. He let them feed on him. Let them kill him.

Daryl woke up slowly. The first thing he was aware of was pain— agony. It was focused on his abdomen and left hand, but his back, left arm, shoulder, and feet were all pulsing with sharp spikes of pain. There was light behind his heavy eyelids, and he could hear movement around him, footsteps on a tiled floor, and low voices.

He didn’t remember the beating being this bad, something must have happened. He remembered the pain, the tearing.

“Go get him,” Rick’s voice rang out, followed by footsteps moving quickly on the tiled floor and a door opening and closing. A small, cool breeze reached his exposed skin. “Daryl?”

A warm calloused hand gripped his right hand. His first instinct was to relax at his best friend's voice, until he remembered Rick standing over him, holding him down while the dead ate him. It felt too real to be a dream, but he was still alive somehow. He opened his eyes, wincing against the light, and focused on Rick’s face beside him, noticing how weary and worn he looked. His scruff was the same, but there looked to be more gray in it than before.

“Hey,” Rick said softly, running his thumb over the back of Daryl’s hand, comforting him, his breathing came easier this time. “How are you feelin’?”

“Uh.” He cleared his throat; he didn't know how he made it out, but it obviously worked. 

Rick let go of his hand to pour water from a pitcher into a glass on the table beside him and put the pitcher down before handing him the glass. Daryl tried to sit up, but one of his arms didn't move. He glanced down to see his left arm in a sling against his chest, hidden within a tight bandage that wrapped from his elbow to his hand.

Rick put the glass down to help him sit up first, then gave the glass back for him to sip at it. Once he finished it, Rick swapped it for another smaller cup, strangely still only using his right hand, his left hanging uselessly by his side. “And take this. Poppy milk, pain killer,” Rick explained at Daryl’s questioning look.

“Thanks.” He took it and sniffed at it, a sweet, flowery smell wafted from it, and he drank it down. He didn't know they had managed to get poppy milk, but he focused on it dulling the pain to a more manageable level.

Rick grunted in answer and adjusted the pillows behind his back to help him stay sitting up as Daryl glanced around the large room. There were curtains on either side of him, but opposite he could see a line of beds with curtains between each one and windows spread evenly across the walls with low light flooding through. He was on a matching bed, wearing a simple hospital gown, with no clothes underneath.

“What— what happened?” Daryl managed to ask, clearing his dry throat. He swapped the small medicine cup for the cup of water from Rick.

“What do you remember?”

“I escaped, then…” he hesitated. “Thought the walkers got me, saw you, then nothin’.”

Rick’s Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed. “We thought you woke up. I’m real sorry ‘bout that. You had internal bleeding by your spleen, Izzy had to operate and we had to hold you down with no anesthetic.” He looked away, shaking his head. “You woke up the moment she cut. We had no choice.”

Heart pounding, Daryl remembered the pain of being torn apart, and seeing Rick’s face above him. It made sense now. He clenched his fist, taking a deep breath through his nose. Once he felt he could breathe clearly, he grunted in response.

Rick took his free hand again, his tone full of regret. “We tried to get to you sooner, but we only managed to find you after you escaped, while you were runnin’.” Rick squeezed his hand. “You were unconscious on Peach, and have been in and out. Do you remember waking up?”

Daryl shook his head.

“That was… nearly three days ago. Your arm was broken in two places and you cracked a few ribs. A bad wound on the back of your head. And more bruises and cuts. Just another few scars to add to the list.” Rick looked away as though trying to gather himself and forced himself to look Daryl in the eye. “I— I had to cut off your finger on the way back. Didn’t have a choice. With the swelling, it was black already and you barely flinched. I’m so sorry. Your ring finger, left hand.”

He lifted his arm, gritting his teeth against the pain, seeing it in a cast up to his hand. He turned it to see the other side of his hand where both his pinky and ring finger were gone, with a small bandage taped over the space.

He itched to inspect his own body, to look at every injury and examine them. He could feel so many it was as though he had been hit by a bus while on his motorcycle, every muscle, bone, every inch of skin was tight and pulsing.

“What about—”

“Don't worry, Negan has the ring. He knows you’re here. I just sent RJ to tell him you were waking up.”

The words were like a punch to the gut, leaving him as breathless as the strike would have, making him forget about his fingers. He broke out in a cold sweat and his mouth went dry, his words stuck in his throat. It took a moment before he could stutter, “Wh— what? Why?”

“He’s not left your side, until a few hours ago. He needed to sleep.”

“Why would you—”

The curtain flung open, and Negan stood there, his tall body taking up the space, breathing heavily like he had been running. His leather jacket and red scarf were discarded for a blue t-shirt that was on inside out, and blue jeans. His usually slicked-back hair was wild, and his beard, which had been short three days ago, was longer and scruffy.

He rushed to Daryl’s side and leaned down, pressing a kiss against his lips.

Daryl froze.

When he was a child, he would freeze against his dad’s anger. 

As he got used to what would set his dad off, he would run, flee, into the woods, and stay as long as he could until his dad’s anger dissipated or he was too drunk to remember he was angry. 

Then, as he got older and bigger, he could fight back, which became his response to everything: fight.

But as Negan kissed him, with no hesitation, like it was normal. Daryl reverted back to the shocked scared child he once was and simply froze.

“Christ, I need to put you on a leash,” Negan murmured, the words sending a shiver down Daryl's still-frozen back. He perched on the edge of Daryl’s bed, their hips pressed together, his heat scorching Daryl’s side. He glanced at Rick who had flattened his lips at Negan’s words, his eyes narrowed. “Prick. I told you I should stay.”

“I sent RJ after ya the second he started showin’ signs of wakin’ up just as I promised,” Rick defended quickly. Daryl stared at him, searching for shock or confusion at Negan kissing him. But Rick just smiled at them both. “I’ll get the doctor.” Rick turned away, leaving him alone with Negan. Daryl could hardly pull in a breath, he wanted to run.

“How are you feeling, Darlin’?” Negan asked with a strangely gentle smile, running his hand along Daryl’s thigh; goosebumps followed his touch. “What the fuck happened out there?”

His mind was spinning a mile a minute, his eyes were too heavy, desperate to go back to sleep, but how could he with Negan sitting beside him? He wanted to shout for Rick to come back, to explain everything, why he betrayed him like this? A quiet part of his mind told him it was Rick, he had to have a good reason.

Negan’s smile faded. “Daryl?”

Daryl studied him, his graying beard and intense eyes locked on Daryl like he was the only thing Negan could see. Daryl didn’t know what he could say, even if he did his throat was too tight. If he admitted he didn’t know what was happening that would put him at a disadvantage. Negan would use that to torment him further. He could tell him anything, and who knew what was true?

“Okay, you’re worrying me now.” If Daryl didn’t know any better, he would say the words sounded genuine, but he knew it had to be an act for reasons he couldn’t understand. He looked in the direction Rick had gone, wanting to shout for him to come back and ask him what the hell was going on.

“M’fine,” Daryl managed to say instead, his words crackling through a dry throat.

Negan brushed his hand down Daryl's arm again and took his hand. “I’ll get you out of here. We spent enough time here, but you have to stay in bed still, okay?” Daryl stared, with no idea what to say to him. Negan’s eyes narrowed, studying him. “What happened out there? Did it bring back some bad memories?”

“M’fine,” Daryl snapped. What did that mean?

Negan’s eyes flashed. “I need more words, gorgeous.” Speak when you’re spoken to.

“What do ya want me to say?” I am Negan.

Negan laughed, his features softening. “That'll do.” He leaned in again, kissing Daryl's frozen lips softly. Daryl’s heart pounded, remembering seeing Negan kissing Sherry, forcing her into it. Negan pulled back, frowning again. Before he could say anything, Rick came back with a middle-aged, tall, blonde woman wearing a white coat.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” the woman greeted him. “Move that pretty ass of yours, Negan, I need room here.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked between them, waiting for Negan to snap at her, but he laughed brightly and climbed off the bed. He still moved to stand by Daryl’s legs, Rick thankfully stayed and stood on his right side.

The doctor approached Daryl from his left and shone a penlight into his eyes. “Please remember the word banana. And follow my pen please.” She moved it around in front of his eyes. “Perfect. Do you remember how you hit your head?”

With Negan watching him, he wanted to lie and say yes, but any additional questions would catch him out on the lie and Rick already knew he had lost the last few hours— days? “No.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

He glanced between Negan and Rick, stopping on his leader to silently ask him what to say. Rick might have betrayed him, but he had to have a good reason. Confusion flashed in Rick’s eyes and then he gave him a small nod.

Daryl bit the inside of his lip before he answered, “I escaped, then woke up here,” Daryl glanced at Negan for his reaction. His eyes shuttered, but his hands were surprisingly gentle when he squeezed Daryl’s leg lightly.

“During your escape, any dizziness? Bleeding from the nose or ears?”

Daryl resisted the urge to touch his ears. “No.”

“Vomiting?”

“No.”

“Any loss of sensation or pain in your limbs that doesn’t correlate to a known injury?” She paused then added, “Have you been told of your current injuries?”

Daryl’s eyes darted to Rick again and grunted a yes.

“And more pain?”

“No.” Every part of his body was sparking with pain, some beginning to fade with the poppy milk Rick gave him, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to dull all of it. Even so, he couldn’t say it, that would be admitting weakness to Negan's face, so he shook his head causing it to swim.

“That’s… surprising, but good. Do you know what day of the week comes after Wednesday?” At Daryl’s look, she chuckled. “I know. Just answer it.”

“Thursday.”

“Great. Thank you. Do you remember the word I told you?”

“Banana.”

“Perfect. Mind if I check your surgical wound?”

“Uh, a’right.” He pushed the blanket off his chest with his unwrapped hand, and left it pooling in his lap, the doctor shifted his gown aside, the opening in the front giving her easy access. He glanced at Rick and Negan again, but neither man moved away, watching intently as she removed the bandage.

The cool hands against his stomach had the feeling of walker fingers tearing into his skin again and he couldn't stop the twitch. “Sorry, my hands are cold,” the doctor murmured.

Daryl glanced down, seeing bruising across most of his stomach, and in the middle of it all, a well-stitched cut on his left side. There was more bruising on his chest.

She gently pressed around the area and inspected it closely. As she did she said, “Since you've been unconscious for days with no explanation other than a minor head injury and exhaustion, I’d love to send you for a CT, but we don’t have that option. So, you need to tell me if you have any other symptoms over the next few weeks, headaches or dizziness. Any more memory loss outside of the known. And you’ll need to take some antibiotics for a week.”

Daryl bit back a scoff. Of course they had antibiotics. Fucking Saviors hoarding everything. He wondered how many points they were and if he was expected to pay it back.

“Can I take him home?” Negan asked. Daryl's eyes darted to him. What the hell did that mean? Back where?

“He's been unconscious for days and had surgery. He needs to stay here.”

“And now he's awake. He’ll just try to make a break for it the moment he can, you know that as well as I do,” Negan said it like it was funny even with a wink aimed at Daryl, but Daryl's heart was pounding too fast and hard. He couldn’t think. “The only reason he’s not already trying to run is because we drugged him up.” What? His eyes darted between them, he felt groggy and confused, but he was also tired and hurting. Was he drugged? Was that what Rick had given him?

The doctor sighed. “Tomorrow morning.”

“I can monitor him. I have before.” She gently spread some creamy goo on the wound and then covered it again with a fresh bandage. Before? Daryl bit his lip to keep from making a noise as she pressed the tape into the bruising on his skin.

“Negan—”

“Doctor.” Negan stood straighter as he spoke the title. Daryl could almost see him holding that bat over his shoulder, his hips tilted, his eyes narrowed. An order.

Daryl choked on the air, his throat too tight all of a sudden. His ears were ringing, Negan was taking him back. Away from Rick again, while hurt and confused. Negan was chuckling and saying something. And Rick was stepping back and leaving him again.

Rick looked down to say something to him, but his eyebrows pulled together, a hand pressed gently on his injured shoulder, steadying him. “Hey, you alright?” Rick mouthed, probably said aloud, but Daryl couldn’t hear through the ringing in his ears. Another hand was on his other shoulder, the heavy weight pinning him down. Negan was leaning close to him, saying something else but he couldn’t hear him.

He had to get a hold of himself. You don’t scare easy. He could do it again, he would be strong and pretend until he understood what the hell had happened. He could be around Negan and pretend to know what the hell was going on. Rick was leaving him. He trusted Rick.

Daryl bit the inside of his lip hard enough he tasted blood and said, “Yeah, m’fine.”

But Negan was staring at him, with what looked like concern in his dark eyes that felt like they were peering into his soul.

Rick squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go, but I’ll spread the word that you’re okay.”

Stay, tell me what's happening. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Rick didn't even hesitate. He didn't seem to care Negan kissed him, and there was something else. Something his mind recoiled from. A hint that there was more than kissing. He could only watch as Rick walked away, his thoughts tripping over themselves as adrenaline failed him and the poppy milk took hold.

“Hold up,” Negan called after Rick, who paused by the curtain. “I’ll come with you and get Daryl some clothes,” Negan offered, pausing to frown at him. He leaned down and kissed him softly on the forehead before leaving.

“While he’s gone,” the doctor said with an apologetic smile, “let’s take your catheter out.”

Negan walked outside with Rick, clenching his fists. Without Daryl, his ghosts appeared in an instant, too many of them talking at once, yelling insults at him, reminding him how useless he was, he should have gotten to Daryl sooner.

A hand grabbed his arm, stopping him in the streets and pulling him around to face Rick.

“What?” Negan snapped but softened at the sight of Rick.

They spent nearly two months on the road alone together looking for Daryl. They fought, they talked, and although a friendship had been blooming before, it was more now. Family. He knew what Rick would do for him and he would do the same for Rick.

“I said your name five times. Are there–” Rick's eyes darted around.

Negan shook his tumbling mind and dug his nails into his palms, trying to ignore his ghosts. But not willing to banish them completely, because without them all he could see was the fear in Daryl’s eyes and feel his frozen still lips when they kissed. He was home and the last two months of not sleeping, just searching and praying was worth it.

“You’ve not been this tight-lipped since I first threw you in the cell,” Rick continued, sensing Negan's need for him not to mention the ghosts. The knowledge was still fresh for him, an accidental revelation while Negan was struggling on the road.

Negan shot him a glare, knowing the mention of the cell was done on purpose to throw him off and distract him.

Rick waited patiently, eyebrow raised and head tilted, while Negan found the right words.

“I asked what happened, and he didn’t want to answer. Did he tell you?”

“I didn’t ask. He’s just woken up from a semi-coma and probably had a shitty few weeks. He’s alive, he’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Negan thought back to after the hotel, Daryl didn’t want to talk then, either. He put that down to hating each other, but it did fit Daryl in general. Pain and hurt just led to hiding. Like a hurt animal. Not that Daryl would appreciate being compared to an animal.

“You’re right to get him home,” Rick said after a few beats. “See how he is once he's home and healed. Let me know if you two need anythin’, anythin’ at all. And your shirt is inside out, by the way.” Rick patted his shoulder and turned the corner toward his house.

Negan sighed and glanced back at the infirmary, he hadn’t seen Daryl pull away from him like that since before.

Chapter Text

Daryl was only supposed to be gone for a few days. 

As was every day after his return deadline passed, Rick watched Negan slowly lose himself. 

They all searched.

Every moment Negan wasn’t out there searching, he was in the attic with Eugene on the radio. Calling communities, waiting for word.

The few times he was around people – walking from the gate to Eugene’s, going to check on incoming traders, or when someone brought him food because he never came to the town hall – he would snap at them. Rick saw former Coalition members go for weapons a few times, seeing the Savior leader inside their principal. Which only succeeded in making Negan angrier. Rick had to step in a few times, literally between pointed weapons and tense bodies.

He knew what Negan was going to do, it was only a matter of time.

So it didn’t surprise him when he saw Negan leaving his house with his leather jacket on. Backpack on his back, crowbar over his shoulder, and a swagger in his step as he sauntered through the town. His face hard. Daring anyone to stop him.

This wasn’t the man he’d come to know. This was Negan, the man who killed as a warning and commanded hundreds of violent survivors with fear and respect. All he needed to do was swap the crowbar for Lucille and they would be back in time.

A few people he walked past stopped what they were doing to stare at him, various expressions of fear and wariness following in his wake.

Rick rushed into his house. He’d already spoken to his family about this possibility and they all agreed. “It’s Daryl,” Judith had said, giving him her throwing knives.

“Find him.” Michonne passed him a bag already packed with clothes, food, and weapons.

“And be careful, Dad.” RJ handed him his gun and an extra pack of bullets made in their factory.

He caught up with Negan by the gate, the other man looked him up and down, eyes catching on his bag and weapons. “What are you doing, Prick?”

Rick didn't react to the insult, refusing to be baited, and just smiled at him. “Goin' with you.”

“I'm not coming back ’til I find him,” Negan warned. “I’ve got a radio, but might go outta range.”

“I figured. ‘Bout time. I can do with some backup out there.”

Negan narrowed his eyes. 

“I love him too,” Rick said softer. Needing him to understand, their trip would go smoother if he could convince him to stop arguing. “I want to find him as much as you do.” 

Rick had been on every possible search mission, able to get away even more often than Negan since he tried to be everywhere at once, seeming not to trust Eugene to man the radio or Michonne to speak to the traders. Negan would search his face, expression falling before thanking Rick, who was neglecting his council duties to search for Daryl. Not quite as frantic as Negan, but they both saw the same fear in each other’s eyes. But this was different now, the possibility of spending weeks – maybe months – with Negan was a strange one, but finding Daryl was worth it.

“Judith?” Negan asked, tone laced with concern.

“Practically shoved me out the door and promised not to be angry at us for this.”

“Fine. Let's go.”

Daryl stood on broken glass—at least that's what it felt like. Once the doctor removed his catheter and she told him to get some rest and left him alone. Daryl ignored the order and got to his feet a vague feeling of need to escape pushing him up, only to nearly fall over from the unexpected pain from his soles and spinning behind his eyes.

He glanced at the closed curtain and sat down, carefully lifting one foot to lay it across his knee for better visibility.

The entire sole of his foot was wrinkled and discolored. Some parts of the dry skin were cracking, mostly around his heel. His blood ran cold. His mind stopped working, even as his heart sped up, his lungs too tight.

“This will stop you from running.”

The voice that rang through his mind sent a shiver down his spine, he couldn't place it but he knew. Negan. It had to be.

A punishment. 

His pinky finger was gone. Rick had to cut off his ring finger – a punishment for them both? He would never forget Rick’s face when Negan told him to cut off Carl’s arm. He had heard Negan while he was in the back of the van, I'll cut pieces off of Daryl there and put them on your doorstep. Or, better yet, I’ll bring him to you and have you do it for me.

Yet, Negan kissed him like it was normal. Like it was something they just did.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had lost weeks, not just a few hours. But these were old, healed, and faded. Months, maybe a year. He must have escaped like he remembered and was captured – beaten? – again.

The last escape Daryl remembered Negan had him beaten by ten guys, it made sense the punishment escalated. How many times had he tried to escape?

Negan enjoyed using the iron on people, burning his feet would stop him from running. He touched his face, relieved to find it smooth to the touch, unburned.

How bad would the punishment be this time?

He wondered what else Negan had done to him. He kissed him, he could have– raped him? Daryl breathed slowly, pushing away the thought. Until there was proof, he couldn’t let himself think about it. Not yet, even as his body felt itchy. He wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Instead, he wondered what Rick and Negan thought he had escaped from this time? Was he trying to run from him again? They weren’t acting like that’s what they thought happened, Negan would be much angrier if that were the case.

Negan took a deep fortifying breath before letting himself back into the infirmary, keeping his footsteps light and confident.

He glanced at the closed curtain and part of him expected to find Daryl had broken out the second the catheter was removed, even in the hospital gown. Everyone in town was too intimidated or loved him too much to embarrass him by talking about that – although his immediate family might tease him for it.

Yet, as Negan flung open the curtain he found Daryl still there with one foot over his knee, which he dropped quickly, unable to hide his wince when it hit the tiled floor. Negan had massaged his feet while he slept, but they had to be hurting him given how cracked and torn the thick scars were when they brought him home.

He opted not to comment knowing Daryl hated attention being brought to them. Instead, he grinned toothily and said, “I’m breaking you out, Darlin’. C’mon.” He put the clothes on the bed and pulled the curtain closed so they could have privacy. “Need help getting dressed?”

“M’fine.” Daryl snatched the clothes, his exhausted eyes darting between them and Negan before he slowly pulled his arm out of the sling. Negan waited, but when Daryl started to take the gown off and his face paled, Negan moved to his side instantly.

“Here.” He touched Daryl’s shoulders and his husband flinched, the bruising over his non-broken shoulder indicating it had been dislocated at some point and had to still hurt. Negan softened his touch as he pushed the gown off Daryl's shoulders, hoping to minimize his pain. Daryl clenched his fist and pulled the gown across his lap, keeping his eyes lowered.

Negan took Daryl's broken arm, holding it by his elbow where there was no bruising, to help guide it into the short-sleeved button-up shirt he brought. He held it out for Daryl to push the other arm in then carefully moved his broken limb back into the sling before he stepped back to let Daryl do the buttons himself, one-handed and trying to hide how much he was shaking. From pain or fatigue, Negan wasn’t sure. Both was as likely; he needed to get him home. He would never relax in the infirmary all night.

With his cracked ribs and recent surgery, Daryl wouldn’t be able to bend. Negan sank to his knees in front of him to help him with his pants, but Daryl just stared down at him, mouth open and eyebrows pulled together.

“Legs?” Negan prompted, nudging his husband’s shin.

Daryl adjusted the gown that was over his waist and kept staring silently at him, his eyes a little dull from the poppy milk.

Negan stood, leaving the clothes where they lay, and sat beside him. Negan took his good hand and ran his thumb along the back while studying his pale features. “What’s goin’ on, Darlin’? I thought I'd have to keep you from crawling out the window or one-handed fist-fighting Izzy to get out. But you're draggin’ ass and takin’ your time.”

Daryl yanked his hand away and before Negan could stop him, he leaned down as though aiming to pull his pants on himself. He went still at a slight angle, a hiss of pain escaping his tight lips and Negan felt like an ass for teasing him, gut-twisting with guilt.

“Damnit, Daryl!” Negan urged him back up. “You’re going to rip your stitches.” Negan dropped to his knees again and Daryl hesitated for another moment before he finally stepped into the pants this time, but once they were high enough on his legs, Daryl grabbed them himself and awkwardly shimmed into them. Negan wanted to help him, but he stepped back, understanding Daryl needed the independence right now. Whatever happened had to have been bad.

But once dressed, Daryl didn’t move for a while, staring at Negan, eyes searching for something Negan didn’t know what to give.

“Daryl?” he prompted after a few beats.

Daryl’s eyes darted to his bare feet but stayed silent. 

“I've asked Izzy to dig out Judith's wheelchair,” Negan explained, figuring less weight on his feet right now would be preferable.

Confusion flashed across Daryl's face, Negan could almost hear his retort that his legs worked fine.

As though she was waiting on the other side of the curtain, it slid open and Izzy came through with the wheelchair.

Negan pushed away the mental image of Judith sitting in it, arm and leg gone with so many bandages where the limbs should be, but her petulant scowl in place. His chest burned at the memory, tightening to the point he struggled to pull in a breath. He rubbed at the scar on his side, nothing compared to what she went through.

“I ain't goin’ in that,” Daryl snapped, pulling Negan to the present.

“Yes, you fucking are,” Negan replied easily, knowing the lack of anger would show his husband he was serious. He would fight Daryl on this, he wanted Daryl home, but he wouldn't risk his health for the short journey.

Daryl glowered at him, which would probably look more intimidating if his eyelids weren't fighting to stay open, and sat in the wheelchair with a huff.

“There's some poppy milk in here,” Izzy said, tactfully ignoring their argument, giving Negan a small glass bottle he pocketed. “Five milliliters as needed, it is opium, so try to space doses by at least four hours, six preferably. And these are his antibiotics,” she gave him two more bottles. “Ten milliliters of each, three times a day, until the bottles are empty. Just give his next dose at bedtime and then go from there. Keep a close eye on the wound. I'll be over once a day, I can come more often if you need me.”

“Thanks, Iz.”

Negan moved behind him to push the wheelchair. Daryl gripped the arm of his chair tightly with his good hand and Negan wondered if he was dizzy or if the movement was too rough.

“If you were anyone else I wouldn't let you leave,” Izzy added pointedly. Negan smirked at her.

“That’s why it’s good to be me. We'll be fine. We're not far away.”

The doctor opened the main doors for them and Daryl’s blood ran cold seeing the low-lit world outside. Although it was dark, the warmth hit him suddenly. He was sure it had been cold, sometime in the middle of Fall when he escaped the Sanctuary. Once Daryl realized he was still with Negan, he had assumed Rick was being held hostage at Sanctuary, not that they were in Alexandria. But as he looked around he saw the bones of his home, with more changes than he could understand. It looked as though he was in the middle of town, with the townhouses in the distance.

Negan pushed him out the door and down the achingly familiar road. Yet it was so very different. They should be walking past white picket fence houses. Instead, they were walking past a large wooden windmill that took over most of the horizon, frozen without a breeze. Around it garden plots were growing various fruits and vegetables. The wall to his right should be closer, but it had been moved back, expanding the space to allow for a large building in the distance, stables maybe? He could hear horses gently neighing within.

His stomach twisted. There was no way Alexandria had changed this much in a matter of months. This was years of hard work.

And then he understood with horrifying clarity what was going on. Each thought was like another rock in his stomach.

Why Negan kissed him, why Rick wasn’t surprised, and why Rick called Negan back.

Just like his wives, being with him meant a better deal, more food, and resources.

Which worked. Alexandria was thriving.

Rick had Carl and Judith to protect. Daryl was sacrificed for them.

He was going to be sick.

As they walked he saw a few people wandering the streets, none of them familiar. Their expressions ranged from wary to relieved when they spotted him and Negan. Some of them waved a hand, but none of them approached. Giving the Savior leader a wide berth so they wouldn’t have to stop and kneel. Negan seemed too focused to care, or maybe the rules were different in Alexandria? He didn’t remember anyone kneeling when he’d been paraded around during their pick-up.

Daryl glanced to the gate where he could see someone pacing atop it, and someone else sitting by the opening, neither of whom he recognized. Saviors. Then Negan turned the corner away from the gate. Daryl jolted. They weren’t going back to the Sanctuary? Instead, they approached the line of townhouses but veered off course and went around them to where several smaller houses were scattered in a large plot between the townhouses and the wall – which had also been moved back to make room for them.

Years of hard work.

Negan stopped the wheelchair at the bottom of a set of porch steps. “Shit. You’d think with the amount of people losing limbs and breaking backs we’d get more accessible housing. I’ll complain to management.” Daryl glanced back at him to see his toothy grin, which faded when Daryl didn’t react.

Daryl stood quickly. His head spun and every part of his aching body screeched a warning for him to stop moving, making him stumble, nearly falling. Negan wrapped an arm around his waist, careful of his wound. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He pulled away roughly and started up the stairs. Negan sighed and followed him closely. 

The front door closing behind them sounded like his tiny cell door slamming, leaving them alone. Not that Negan ever seemed to be worried about witnesses, they almost seemed to egg him instead. His presence felt like when he trained a gun on Daryl when he was emptying the armory, dangerous, but there was nothing he could do but push through. No one could help him, Rick had been forced to stand by and watch then too. Negan ordering everyone to look away from him so his torment was both unseen and more obvious.

Daryl could feel his eyes on him and tried not to react as he looked around the open-plan living room/kitchen they walked directly into.

There was a large couch in the middle of the room facing a fireplace, with a set of fireplace tools beside it–

He could hardly breathe, he was cold and dripping wet. Then came the sudden agonizing searing, burning on the soles of his feet. White hot. There was nothing but pain, pain, pain. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. There was only agony.  He just wanted it to stop, to be over. Death was his only escape, but it would never come. He had fought too hard, his body was used to fighting and pushing past what he thought were his limits.

“This will stop you from running,” the voice said between his screams, a voice he knew he would hear in every nightmare until death finally took him.

A hand touched his arm, Daryl worked not to pull away from it, desperately trying not to think about the way the memory faded and his breathing came easier at the touch.

He focused on looking around the rest of the room where a display cabinet filled with knives, arrows, and some guns was screwed to the wall above the fireplace. In the corner was an old-style tube TV, almost exactly like the one his dad never replaced before the world ended, with a VHS and DVD player combo on top, sitting on a base with wheels. On the adjacent wall was a bookshelf full of books, with various colorful, child-like drawings tacked on the walls around it.

The kitchen was behind the couch, it was simple but not much to look at, with a wooden table and four chairs in the middle. His unloaded crossbow rested on the table, arrows missing, beside a bowl of fruit.

It felt homey.

“You should go get some rest. I'll bring you some food,” Negan offered.

Daryl swallowed back a gag at the thought of more dog food sandwiches. He guessed a bed was upstairs. With a final glance at his crossbow, he made his own way. Limping slowly, gripping the railing with his free hand. He glanced back at Negan who just watched him from the bottom.

At the top of the stairs down the hallway were two open doors, and a closed door. He glanced in the first open door. A bedroom, simple with a guitar in the corner and some clothes hanging up that had to belong to a teenager or a kid.

Not his room then.

The next room with the door open was another bedroom. Much larger with an unmade king bed and clothes thrown around hazardously. There was a full-length mirror attached horizontally to the wall beside the bed that sent another shudder down his back. The bed was dead center of the frame. An open closet door was opposite the main door. A dresser sat snug inside, some of the drawers were open, and the clothes inside a messy pile. Only Negan's leather jacket and Daryl's winged vest hung beside the dresser.

They had to share this room. He was going to be sick.

When he turned, his stomach dropped further. Where he would expect a wall behind the door was an archway leading into the bathroom.

There was a curtain hanging but it was pulled back, leaving the bath, sink, and toilet in full view.

Simple. Open.

He didn't dare consider what it meant, but the bed faced the bathroom. Sending a shiver down his spine.

He sat slowly on the bed, refusing to look at the mirror, taking the weight off his aching feet. He wouldn't be able to escape, not yet. First, he needed to gather his strength and get more information. With that, he could figure out a plan.

It was clear he had lost years of his life, did that include memories he would rather not get back?

He rubbed his face with his free hand, exhaustion was beginning to win over his terror. Despite knowing he had been unconscious for days his mind still felt like he had been forced awake by that damn song.

Falling asleep – being vulnerable around Negan – was something he wanted to avoid, but he couldn’t stay awake much longer. It was just about getting his strength back, who knew when he would have a chance to rest again without music blaring. He laid on the bed, shoving the sheet out of the way for an easier escape.

Then he saw that one of the side tables had a framed Polaroid picture on it of Daryl and Negan just sitting and having a picnic, Negan had his arm around Daryl with a wide grin. Daryl himself looked… bemused.

How long ago was that? Daryl studied Negan's face, did he look older? There was gray in his hair and beard. Had there been before?

He could remember every word said during the line-up. Could picture the fear on his family's faces. The anger on Negan’s. But did he look the same as in the picture? He couldn't picture it as clearly. He remembered the leather jacket, the red scarf, the red of Abraham's blood, Glenn's eye--

He looked away biting his tongue and stared on the comforter, trying to gather himself. He needed to calm down. Negan would see how he was affecting him.

“You don't scare easy.”

If he didn't know the history of the men in the picture, he would think that it was a happy relationship.

He put the picture back and glanced at the window. The corrugated wall that guarded them from the world outside filled his view, with a single guard walking in and out of frame – guarding the wall and him?

He turned his head onto the pillow. The musky scent of an old library and leather, along with a sweeter apple scent, reached his nose. For some reason it forced him to relax, and he was asleep in seconds now that he finally stopped moving and was alone.

Negan clenched his fists listening to Daryl's careful footsteps on the floor above. With him finally home, Negan could stop and breathe. But without the concern of getting Daryl home, so he didn’t try to escape the infirmary in the middle of the night to get here, he was left to his own thoughts. What the hell happened to him out there?

Not knowing what else to do, he left to go to the community pantry, collecting some items to make Daryl an iron-rich dinner of vegetable venison soup. It took him an hour. He had some making up to do for his behavior prior to leaving. Everyone started to relax more as he made a point to smile and be friendly, chatting with Finley for a second. Touching base with Marjan to ask how Peach, Moonshine, and Chief were recovering from their long trip. If he was honest with himself, he took longer than necessary to avoid his husband, only briefly distracted by his ghosts reminding him of his failures.

Negan usually knew how to make things right between them, but for the first time since they had argued in that Church, Negan had no idea what to say.

When he did make his way upstairs to the bedroom, he found Daryl in the bed, still fully clothed on Negan's side. He had been sleeping, but he woke and sat up with a jolt and a wince he tried to hide.

“Whoa, careful, Darlin’. Didn't mean to startle you. You okay?”

“Fine,” Daryl spat. Negan made a mental note to stop asking, Daryl hated it back in the tavern as well.

Daryl shifted and his eyes locked on the tray Negan held.

“Dinner in bed. Don't get used to it. And your antibiotics.” He placed the tray in front of him, with their two bowls. Negan sat on the edge of the bed and took his own bowl. After a moment, Daryl shifted to lean against the headboard and tried to drag the tray closer with one hand. Negan moved it for him. Daryl sniffed the antibiotics, glanced at him as though trying to decide something, and then drank it in one, grimacing at the taste. He took a hesitant mouthful of the soup and then started eating quickly.

Negan wondered if Daryl had much to eat in the last two months. He was skinnier than he should be.

Negan took a spoonful of his own dinner, his stomach growled at the first bite of real food he'd had since Daryl went missing weeks ago.

“Are we swapping sides?” Negan asked between mouthfuls, trying to lighten the mood.

“Huh?”

“Any reason you're on my side?”

Daryl glanced at the bed and gave a one-sided shrug.

They both feel silent, only the slurping of their soups punctuating the silence.

“What happened out there?” Negan asked again softly. Daryl stared at him like he was studying him, trying to decide something. Negan started to reach for Daryl's thigh but stopped himself. The thought Negan had been trying to push away, came to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't ignore it anymore. Negan put his bowl aside and sat up straighter. “Daryl, it's just me and you here, yeah?” He glanced at Arat who stood as though at guard at the door, but opted not to mention it to Daryl right now, his husband had enough to deal with.

Daryl glanced around as though he expected to see cameras in the walls, or the ghosts he knew sometimes joined them. “Yeah?”

“Whatever happened… were you– did someone rape you?”

Daryl's eyes went wide.

“Because you’re jumping at touches and acting–” He took a deep breath and put his hand on Daryl’s shin, he didn’t flinch but his eyes flicked down to the movement. “If anyone touched you–” Negan cleared his throat and took another breath to reign in his temper, unsure what to say, but if Daryl was raped he would burn the world to find the people that did that. Feed them to walkers, starting at the feet. Make it slow. He would become the monster he used to be until they were all dead. “Did they?” Negan asked again, barely keeping his voice from cracking.

Daryl shifted on the bed but shook his head. “No.”

The weight dropped from Negan’s shoulders. “Thank fuck.” He did put his hand on Daryl's thigh then. Daryl didn't flinch. “Just… I'm here, you know. To talk.”

Daryl grunted in response and lifted the bowl with one hand to drink the rest. Negan relaxed knowing Daryl had a full belly. He would give him time. Daryl always opened up to him eventually.

Chapter Text

Rick glared at the small fire with the pot of stew on it.

It was too dark to keep traveling so they had stopped to rest the horses. They were about halfway to where Daryl should have been hunting.

Negan had told him to watch it while he went and dug a temporary latrine, and Rick hadn’t been able to admit to him that he didn’t know anything about cooking. On the road, everyone else had always handled meals after it was revealed he could burn water. At the CRM there was always a cafeteria and community meals, he never had to cook anything.

“Gotta stir it,” he reminded himself as he got up to do just that. He tried to use his prosthetic to provide leverage as he used his real hand to stir the spoon and keep everything from burning. But he’d waited too long already and something was stuck to the bottom.

Getting it unstuck proved too difficult with his prosthetic. He simultaneously burned his real hand and splashed a chunk of the food on the ground. In his frustration, he couldn’t keep in the soft round of cursing, which wasn’t soft enough to avoid notice.

“What happened?” Negan emerged from the bushes, stepping over their noise traps. His nose twitched at the smell of half their dinner on fire.

The sight of Negan in his leather jacket in the woods brought up painful memories and Rick froze, having to remind himself where they were before blurting out, “I can’t cook.”

Negan peered into the pot as Rick got out of his way. He stirred the ingredients as though trying to salvage some of it. “I can see that. How did you burn some of it but other parts are still uncooked?” He looked at Rick’s prosthetic and the mess he’d made. “Can’t cook at all or just stew?”

“At all.” Rick gestured with his real hand to their supplies. “I should have said something.”

“I don’t know if I would have believed you without seeing it,” Negan muttered under his breath. His eyes flicked up to look at their bags like he was thinking about their supplies, then he snorted and grinned. “It’s fine. We can scavenge. I’ll put out some snares just in case we get lucky overnight.”

Negan went to their packs and pulled out some bread and a few other ingredients. “I was planning on us eating sandwiches for lunch while we walked but we can have them tonight too.”

“Should we save them?” Rick felt guilty asking. They had both gone much longer without food, but neither of them had needed to for a while.

“Nah, bread goes bad too fast without preservatives. And I only brought stuff for me, so we don't have much anyway.” Negan made the sandwiches quickly, munching on his as he walked back into the darkness with the snares.

Rick watched him, aware of the nervous need to do something. The bread was soft and he had to be careful not to drop more food as he maneuvered with one hand on the large sandwich. Finally, he balanced half of it on his prosthetic to keep it together as he ate.

He was still eating when Negan came back, he flicked his eyes over him and he refused to feel embarrassed by how he was eating. Negan checked on the horses without comment, talking quietly to them, before leaning against a tree, settling in for the night. “I've got first watch.”

“Wanna watch a movie downstairs or just sleep?” Negan asked, hand still resting on Daryl’s thigh, the heavy weight holding him in place. It was closer to his knee, but its presence made Daryl nauseous. Dreading the prospect it might move up at any moment. 

Daryl considered Negan, trying to figure out what was expected. He was still tired after his nap, but sleep meant bed with Negan. He wanted to put that off, and the idea of being able to watch a movie was interesting enough that he eventually answered, “Movie.”

Negan grinned and released his leg, Daryl refused to feel relief at having guessed correctly.

Warily, Daryl said, “Gotta piss first.” He wanted to put it off but his bladder had been full since he woke up when Negan came in.

“Need help?”

More damn questions he didn't know the right answers to, he thought getting more frustrated. Was it some kink of Negan's he was expected to react to? He remembered Merle telling him about some girl that liked to piss on him. It was disgusting to Daryl, but Merle didn't seem to care.

“However people wanna get their rocks off, lil brother. I ain’t no judge,” Merle shouted as he switched on the shower.

Unless they're gay, Daryl had wanted to snap back. Instead, he just grunted and tried to ignore Merle telling him too many details about his sex life.

“I'm kidding, Darlin',” Negan said when Daryl hadn't spoken in a few beats too long. “Unless you really do need help, I only want to hold your cock in a fun way.” 

He couldn’t breathe. He was right. Negan raped him. He leaned in and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from turning away. Was he going to now? Would he enjoy Daryl being in extra pain from his latest wounds while he did it? The bed under him suddenly felt like it was sucking him down, too soft for him to push against. Clinging to him.

Daryl would fight back, he would fight until he had no other choice – or had that already happened? Alexandria was thriving as far as he could tell. Rick was happy and safe. No longer the broken man Daryl saw a few days ago. Was that his choice? His body or Alexandria?

“Daryl?” Negan whispered, his voice tight, ordering him to look at him.

He had no other choice.

Could he– Daryl pushed away that thought, he could do anything for his family.

It was increasingly obvious that he already had, the thought made him feel sick. Did he have to get hard? Would Negan care as long as Daryl submitted?

Maybe he could pretend up until that point, even as his stomach twisted, he forced himself to think about Judith's smiling face, Carl’s laugh. He would do anything to protect them, if that's what Rick was doing, he could too.

He tentatively looked up and kissed Negan.

He thought it would make him feel sick, angry, scared. Instead, it felt… good. It was only a soft chaste kiss, and yet his body reacted to the familiarity of it. His hand went to Negan's chest without conscious command, to push him away or just to touch him? Negan smiled against him and tried to deepen the kiss with a tongue brushing against Daryl's lips.

Daryl pulled back abruptly, catching a look he couldn't interpret flash across Negan's face. Anger? That would be the most obvious reaction.

Heart pounding, Daryl muttered, “Still gotta piss.” He moved his hand off Negan’s chest and clenched his fist to attempt to hide the trembling.

“I'll get the movie ready.” Negan leaned in again, this time aiming a kiss at the top of his head, something fluttered inside his chest. Negan pulled back, staring him in the eye, his hazel eyes full of emotion, “I love you, don't forget that.” He didn't wait for a reply from the speechless Daryl.

Love?

“It’s how he shows his love,” his mom would tell him as she cleaned his back. Even at eight years old, Daryl could smell the bullshit. “He cares about you, he wants you to be strong like him.”

For the first time in a long time, he thought about Jackson. The only man he ever dated, in some fucked up sense of the word. They fucked in a motel after a few drinks when Daryl was only seventeen, his ID saying twenty-one. Jackson had been ten years older than Daryl’s supposed age and more experienced. When Daryl returned to the same bar the next week, Jackson took him back to the same motel room.

They continued like that for months until Jackson said he wanted to talk. He wanted more than a motel fuck. He liked Daryl, he knew Daryl lied about his age but said he was so mature it didn’t matter. And Daryl was young and hadn't had many friends growing up. He didn't know what love was supposed to feel like. So, when the fists started to fly he thought that was right. Jackson left him after a year, for some pretty blonde woman he could take home to Mama.

Daryl went to different bars less frequently after that.

Was this the same? Did Negan think this was real? Or using love as a manipulation technique? Or maybe it was just Stockholm Syndrome and Negan thought Daryl was so broken he wouldn't know the difference. Had he forgotten the difference?

If he had been raped by someone else, would that have sullied him to Negan? Making him damaged goods because someone else touched him?

He hissed at a sudden sharp pain in his hand. He looked at it to see four crescent moon shallow cuts in his palm, spots of blood pooling over the wound. His nails were longer than usual.

He limped to the sink to wash them and glanced in the mirror. He froze then, his hand still under the cool water. His face was so much older. There was a large scar down his left eye, his hair was longer than he remembered, a few inches past his shoulders. There was a piece of tape across the bridge of his nose, bruising surrounded it and stretched across both eyes. There was another bruise on his left cheek, with a stitched cut in the middle of the purple-green skin. He carefully opened the buttons of his shirt and peered at his colorfully bruised chest. There were clear handprint bruises on his shoulders and hips which had his breathing stuttering at the delirious memory of being eaten alive, he had been so sure he could feel the teeth biting at him.

A floorboard squeaked somewhere in the house pulling him from the memory. He glanced at the door and slipped his good arm out, leaving the shirt hanging on his bad arm, and twisted, wincing at the shooting pain going through his other shoulder.

When it was too difficult to see, he went to the bigger mirror by the bed and his stomach dropped at the sight of his back. It had been aching with enough pain that he thought it would be bruised, maybe grazed, from being dragged.

Not for a second did he imagine the sight of his back covered with so many thick, red scars, it nearly looked like one big badly done skin graft with a clear X at the bottom of his back that looked different than the rest. His tattoo was ruined by a strip of scar tissue that made him think of his feet, melted, and he could see newer lines across some old scars and knew without a doubt what caused this.

Negan saw his old scars and knew how best to break him.

Daryl was sitting in the bathtub, every part of him in agony. His feet were the worst, he pressed them into the cool porcelain tub, shifting them to a cooler spot every so often. It was too dark to see them, but he knew he was leaving bloody footprints.

He knew without a doubt he wouldn't last much longer. He peered at the sharp piece of ceramic he had hidden in the corner of the tub. One swipe down each arm starting at the wrist. It would be over. It wouldn't even hurt compared to everything else. He didn't know why he hadn't done it yet. Sometimes he just played with the sharp ceramic between his fingers.

He heard the front door open and clenched his jaw. No, no, no. No more. Please! He didn’t dare speak, too afraid the words they were aiming for would spill forth instead.

He had to protect his family.

The bathroom door opened and light flooded the room, burning his eyes.

He glanced back slowly, but his eyes were struggling to adjust to the light after the pitch darkness. Two faceless men stood behind him.

One of them approached, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up painfully. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out.

“I see what you mean,” a familiar voice spoke. Daryl looked at the second man and his eyes finally focused on Negan.

“Daryl?” that same voice shouted from somewhere outside the room pulling him from the memory.

Daryl cleared his throat and shouted back, “M’fine.” He was surprised at his voice coming out clear as his lungs struggled to take in a full breath.

He had been broken. Completely broken by Negan. It was the only thing that made sense. He had given in. Did he say the three words?

I am Negan.

“Need help?” Negan shouted again.

“No.”

Maybe he had been broken and had been all but asleep for all this time and this… accident? Attempted escape? Had woken him up.

He pulled the shirt back on and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He had to calm down, keep with the plan, follow Negan's cues, find out more information, and go from there. If he knew that Daryl wasn’t broken anymore could he survive the result? Would Negan work to break him again?

He needed to talk to Rick, he wasn't sure he could tell his best friend what was going on with his memories if it risked Carl and Judith, but he could try to glean something from him.

With a plan in mind, he could breathe easier. Daryl switched the water off. He glanced behind him, to the closed bedroom door and the open curtain, and went to the toilet to pee, the noise echoing around the too-large open planned bathroom. What the fuck.

Eventually Daryl made it downstairs, huffing, trying not to show how out of breath he was from the small movement. Negan sat back from the TV where the screen showed a familiar man standing in a bright red outfit walking toward the small egg-shaped spacecraft and the terrible CGI that showed it flying to Earth.

“Mork and Mindy?” Daryl asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice at the sight of his favorite childhood show.

Negan hummed. “I thought it might improve your mood.”

How did he know?

I love you. The words bounced around his skull, each reverberation more painful than the last.

Daryl eyed the spot on the couch next to him warily before he sat down.

Negan smiled at him and reached for something in the drawer of the small side table beside the couch, taking out a jar of a creamy liquid. Daryl’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t do this.

“You’ve got to be aching. Sit back, relax,” Negan ordered.

He wasn’t going to wait for Daryl to heal, just like in Sanctuary with the beating from the escape attempt he could remember. Shit. Could he just lay down and accept it? Think of something else? 

No.

This was too soon; he needed more information first. He couldn’t do this without fighting him, just touching Negan made him want to punch him and run to the shower.

He braced himself for a fight. He'd lose, he was too weak, but he had to fight. Maybe Negan liked the fight.

“You wanna do it yourself?” Negan offered instead. When Daryl just stared blankly - did he want to watch him masturbate? Could he do that much? Get hard while Negan watched him. Negan frowned and slowly clarified, “Your feet?”

“My feet,” Daryl repeated and then remembered the burns, he eyed the creamy liquid inside the pot. Foot fetish?

“Yeah? Unless you’ve changed your mind about me massaging them?”

“Massaging my feet?” Daryl gapped. Kneeling to help him dress was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

“Yeah?” Negan kept staring, waiting and finally patted Daryl's knee. “Bring ‘em here.” Daryl slowly lifted his leg, turning on the couch to not twist his body painfully. If he misunderstood, expecting Negan to rub his feet was going to end painfully.

Although, at least that he could understand. He knew how to deal with pain. Pain was an old friend.

Negan seemed relieved when Daryl carefully laid one foot on his lap. “And the other.”

Daryl put his other foot on Negan's lap, the angle was awkward sitting straight up and half facing the TV, his stomach and ribs stretched.

“Relax, Darlin’,” Negan ordered, taking a scoop of the cream and rubbing it between his hands. Daryl saw then that Negan was missing his index finger on his left hand and had a vague sense of guilt and pain, had he done that? Fought back and caused him to lose that finger. He wondered what his punishment had been. Negan took hold of Daryl's left foot pulling him from his thoughts, and surprisingly gently rubbed the sole. The cream was still cold, but not so much that it was uncomfortable.

Daryl found himself relaxing involuntarily, eventually leaning back on the arm of the couch. The movement felt safe and familiar. Which he desperately tried not to think too hard about what that meant, and that Negan was doing this. He would’ve expected Negan to force him on his knees to massage his feet. Recent surgery or not.

Negan turned his attention to the TV, but his hands didn't stop, pressing into the aches and pains like he knew just what to do. Getting softer on the cracked areas without needing to look to see where they were.

“Good thing you'll be staying off them as much as you can for a few weeks. Looks like you were on them a lot?” Daryl opened his eyes - when did he close them? - Negan glanced at him and smiled ruefully. “Yes, I will tie you to the bed this time, you're not walking around on them like before.”

The relaxed feeling within him disappeared in an instant. Negan didn't seem to notice, his attention back on the TV as he moved to Daryl's other foot.

Daryl glanced back at his crossbow still on the kitchen table and remembered the moment his dad had given his first one to him, a few days after a particularly bad beating. An apology. He had seen it too many times. Witnessed the kiss of a girlfriend on her boyfriend's scratched cheek. The pretty flowers a husband buys his wife, holding the stems with scabbed knuckles.

This must be Negan’s way, food and massages. His apology for the beatings.

They watched a few episodes before Negan decided it was time for bed. He fetched poppy milk from the fridge and watched as Daryl drank it down. Daryl's stomach rolled at the thought of going back upstairs to the bedroom, drugged. But couldn’t see a way out of it without risking his family, so he followed him upstairs.

Negan started removing his shirt and eyed Daryl. “Need help?” He asked Daryl.

Daryl wracked his brain but couldn't find a reason to stay dressed. “M’fine,” he murmured, undoing the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off one arm, and slipping it around his bandage. “Gonna keep the pants on,” he said, watching Negan for his reaction, “easier with my ribs ‘n incision.”

And a warning if Negan decided to fuck him while he slept.

Negan shrugged. “Sure, Darlin'.” He removed his own shirt, showing off a few small scars on his torso, and a larger one on his right by his ribs, barely covered by a light amount of salt and pepper hair that brushed along his chest. Along with a happy trail that led under the jeans he was undoing the belt of.

Daryl pulled his eyes back up to the compass that hung on a chain around his neck, a small silver ring beside it.

“Oh, Rick saved this for you,” Negan said, pinching the ring with his thumb and middle finger of his left hand, the missing index finger making it look awkward before Daryl saw the matching silver ring on the next finger. Wedding ring. “We'll find you a chain to wear if you want?”

Daryl grunted in answer, at Negan's frown he realized Negan wanted more. Speak when you’re spoken to. “Yeah. Uh, sounds good.”

Negan beamed and Daryl relaxed a small amount, even as Negan stripped his pants and underwear off. His cock was flaccid and yet it was still big. Long and thick.

His ass clenched as a wave of disgust and heat ran through him. Daryl looked away quickly, his heart pounding and palms sweating.

Negan said he could keep his pants on. So probably just sleep. In bed. Beside his captor.

He climbed onto the side Negan had indicated as his and laid back, glad for the poppy milk feeling to dull his emotions. As Negan climbed into bed with him, he noticed scars on Negan's left leg, a thick, long one running across his thigh and another smaller one by his shin.

Negan settled beside him, their arms pressed together, and he was asleep in minutes.

I could kill him, was all Daryl could think a few hours later as he lay in bed staring at the sleeping Negan unable to sleep himself. But then what? Negan had to have a contingency plan for that. Or maybe Daryl had lost himself so much Negan never expected it.

But now? He could smother him, hold a pillow over his head. Or maybe not, with only one arm that'll be too difficult.

He could get a knife, there were a bunch on the display board down the stairs.

Slit Negan’s throat? A weird sense of deja vu hit him. He could see Negan kneeling on the ground, a hand to his neck with blood seeping around it. He could hear screaming. It was gone before he could hold onto it, the clear image around him fading like a favorite daydream.

He could just stab him, that would be the easiest option. But what then? What would the Saviors around town do? Would someone worse take over, or could he tell Rick first and let Rick decide how to handle it? Rick was always a great leader when forced into it, he could do something.

“Sleep, Darlin’,” Negan murmured, his voice a low growl in his half-asleep state. He rolled onto his side and threw a bare arm over Daryl’s waist while burying his face in Daryl’s shoulder, yet he was still careful of his injuries. “Relax. You’re safe now,” Negan whispered with the naked heat of his body pressing against Daryl, the semi-hard cock brushing against his hip. “Inside the walls of Alexandria. I’ve got you.”

Despite everything, his body relaxed and his mind began to catch up, dragging him down to sleep.

Negan woke to find Daryl still fast asleep. It was so rare to wake up first that Negan took the opportunity to stare at his husband and the bruises across his face and chest, reminding him of those first days in the tavern. He watched Daryl’s chest, the soft rise and fall of his breathing. Occasionally, the movement stuttered as a wave of pain hit, but thankfully didn’t wake him.

Alive.

Weeks of fear, of doing everything to find him. Expecting to find a walker in Daryl's place after the first week.

But he was alive, even if he wasn't okay yet.

Negan sighed and slid from the bed as slowly and quietly as possible. He glanced back at Daryl to find him still peaceful.

Negan got dressed. Daryl had reverted back to sleeping in some clothes, a habit they had on the road that Negan was glad to have shed within the safety of their home. That Daryl still felt it necessary to sleep with his pants on felt like a natural consequence of being gone, unsafe , for so long, even if he hid it behind another excuse.  Negan used the bathroom and went downstairs to make breakfast.

A knock sounded, pulling him away from the scrambled eggs. He switched off the stove and answered to find Rick. “Prick, you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on our patient?” Rick asked, ignoring the insult that had become Negan's pet name for his unlikely friend.

“He’s still sleeping. Want breakfast? I made enough.” The urge to feed Daryl having overridden his willpower and good sense about wasting food.

“Sure.” Rick stepped through the doorway, glancing around. “How are you?”

They talked so much while out looking for Daryl. Negan told Rick more than he ever intended to and Rick had done the same but now, Negan couldn’t bring himself to say anything more than, “Fine.”

Rick arched an eyebrow not believing him but didn't push. “And how is he?”

Negan turned away to make the toasted egg sandwiches, taking a moment to find the words. “You know about his feet, right?”

“The burns? Yeah, you told me about ‘em. Haven’t seen ‘em myself.”

“I massage them for him. It loosens the skin and helps to stop it from cracking because he's on them all day.” He glanced back at Rick, who was leaning against the back of the couch and watching him, eyebrows narrowed. “He used to do it himself, other people touching them was too much, y’know? Bad memories.” He saw Rick touch his left arm, a subconscious movement with memories that had to be surfacing. “Recently he's started letting me. But last night…” Negan shook his head. “It was like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I thought maybe with whatever happened out there, he was too freaked out, but then he let me and relaxed again. Seemed to enjoy it.”

“Are you sure it’s not just Daryl… being Daryl and pulling away?”

Negan sighed and shook his head. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was like the pants. Expecting him to just be fine after whatever he went through was stupid of him.

“Probably.” He cut the bread into slices and handed it to Rick, who smiled ruefully at the silent gesture, having gotten used to Rick’s arm and way of eating on the road. He put the rest of the food onto a tray with a glass of apple juice, his antibiotic, and poppy milk.

“I'll take it up,” Rick offered. “See how he is.”

“Thanks. Make sure he drinks both of them.” He pointed at the medication Izzy had given him.

Rick gave him a mock salute, balancing his plate on the same tray and took them up.

Daryl woke to the front door opening, and moments later could hear another voice. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew it was Rick.

He'd recognize his voice anywhere.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and as quickly as he could without too much pain, he climbed from the bed and scooped up his wrinkled shirt, shrugging it on and starting to do the buttons. It was difficult with one hand leaving him with half of them undone when a knock sounded and the door opened.

Rick came in, holding a tray in one hand and balanced on the other arm. Daryl's blood ran cold when he saw the metal prosthetic in place of his left hand. He hadn’t noticed it in the infirmary.

“You a Southpaw?”

He could see Carl splayed on the ground, Rick with his red hatchet in hand, Negan ordering him to cut it off. “Please! It could be me! Please!” Rick was shouting, so desperate.

“Oh good, you're awake,” Rick said in greeting. He smiled amused at Daryl's shirt. “Took me a while to get used to them one handed. Zippers are worse.”

Daryl hummed and finished buttoning his shirt as Rick sat on the bed.

“How are you feelin’?” Rick asked, seemingly unaware of Daryl's heart racing. When Daryl didn't reply, Rick frowned at him, “Daryl?” He took one of the plates balancing it on his lap to eat.

Daryl slowly sat beside him and took the other plate.

“You need to drink these.” Rick pointed at the two small cups. “Negan’ll have my other hand if I don't make sure you do.” He smiled like it was a joke.

Daryl was going to throw up.

He quickly took them and drank them down in one gulp. Stomach churning he hoped it stayed down. Or if he threw them up the punishment would fall on him, although that was not Negan’s style.

Rick tilted his head, considering something. “Seriously, Daryl, what happened? Are you okay?”

He wanted to shout I don’t know what happened? Why didn't you question it when I said escape? What the fuck is all this?

Instead, he said, “Jus' been a weird few days, s’all.”

“More than a few,” Rick agreed with a chuckle. “With Carol gone, you know you can talk to me?”

No.

If he could breathe the scream would have torn out his throat and bloodied his lungs.

Not her. Please, not her.

Rick was still talking but Daryl couldn't hear with the ringing in his ears.

Carol gone.

Gone.

Was that what finally broke him? Except Rick's wording made it sound recent. Was that why he was trying to escape? Or a consequence?

Had he gotten Carol killed?

“Daryl?” Rick was in front of him again, his good hand on Daryl's shoulder, face so close. “Hey? Want me to get Negan?”

No! Daryl shook his head. It was like he had woken up in a nightmare. Except the world before was already a nightmare… Was this hell? Did Negan kill him when he tried to escape?

He closed his eyes, breathing softly, Rick's words dulled to the ringing in his ears. This was just more information.

“M’fine,” he said eventually and took another bite of his egg that tasted like ash on his tongue.

Rick didn't speak for a while before he took something from his back pocket. “Judith made this. She got frustrated and threw it in the trash but I saved it.”

Get well soon Lil Asskicker, written in clumsy handwriting and thick green crayon, on a crumpled sheet of white paper.

“She did it herself. Practicing.”

Daryl blinked. He hadn't been around enough kids to know when they should be able to do that, but if he had to guess, five maybe?

Which made it more than three years since he last remembered the toddler.

He lost three years. He’d been in Negan’s clutches for three years. “That's… real cool,” he said, his voice a near whisper.

“Yeah. We're all proud of her. She's…” Rick smiled softly. “She's really strong.”

Daryl frowned at the tone, he sounded strange but Daryl couldn't decipher it. But he couldn't ask what happened, or about anything.

“They’ll both come by and see you soon.”

Daryl let out a breath. Both. It had to mean Judith and Carl were still okay. Thank God. “Yeah, a’right.”

Half an hour later, Daryl knew he was right not to confide in Rick as he leaned against the open bedroom door and listened to the conversation downstairs.

“I think you're right,” Rick was saying. “He's… confused.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I mentioned Carol and he seemed to panic. She was gone before he went.”

Negan sighed. “Just… keep an eye on him, yeah?”

“Always do. You know that, brother.”

Daryl stepped back into the room as he heard the front door close, his chest too tight and breath coming in quick bursts.

Brother.

Chapter Text

Rick sat on the top of a hill, watching the sun rise over the old, crumbling city of Woodbridge. The sight reminded him of a dawn so long ago outside Atlanta.

He hoped Morgan was still alive, out there somewhere. He hoped he was okay.

Daryl was supposed to be hunting in Mason Neck. Alexandria had sent out a search party there a week ago and found nothing. They both knew it was a long shot, but he and Negan checked it out anyway. Unsurprisingly, they also came up empty-handed.

They decided to keep heading down 95. Backtracking briefly to go to one of their trading communities, Fort Belvoir, to ask them for information. The militaristic community had nothing so they moved on rather than accept the offer of a bed for the night, stopping to camp overnight outside Woodbridge.

He crouched on the grass staring at the horizon and talked into the radio, “Brave Man to The Giant.” Code names, just in case, they didn't know who was listening, especially since Fort Belvoir was within range and they hadn’t trusted the community with their location just yet. They hadn’t discussed using code names, Negan having given him little time to set up the final touches before leaving. But he knew Judith called him the Brave Man when telling RJ about him as they were growing up, and he overheard Negan calling himself The Principal and Alexandria was The Giant over the radio.

There was a moment of silence, enough time for him to almost depress the button and repeat his message, then Judith’s bright voice came through, “Hey Brave Man. It’s Shoto.”

“Shoto,” Rick greeted cheerfully. “I was hopin’ it'd be you. The Principal said you've taken on a bunch’a shifts.”

“Yeah. Whatever I can, ‘til I can get outside the walls again. Haven't heard anything new though.”

Rick sighed, although he knew that would be her answer. “Thank you. The others ok?”

“We’re good here. Just missing you.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He let go of the button and sighed, dropping his head against it. It hadn’t been long, just a few days, but they were no closer to finding Daryl. Time stretched out with no leads or end in sight. It could be a long time until he saw them again. He pressed the button again and said, “We’re running low on battery so if we don't get in contact for a few days, don't panic. We're gonna go scavenge or try to trade for some.”

“Okay, I'll pass on the word. Be careful, Brave Man.”

“You too, Shoto.”

He walked back down the hill to the frantic Negan, pulling everything out of both their bags and throwing them into the mud. Their horses watched him with ears flicking, Moonshine looking less than impressed while the horse Rick had grabbed was starting to look concerned. “Negan?”

He spun around eyes wide. “I can't find the–”

“Radio?” Rick finished, lifting it so he could see it in his hand.

Negan’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah.” He looked down at the items he threw everywhere and crouched to tidy them up.

“I just radioed back,” Rick explained, putting the radio in his own bag and sighing at the dirt on his previously clean clothes. “No news.”

“Why the hell didn't you wake me?” Negan snapped, shoving the last of their jerky into his bag.

“Because I'm perfectly capable of using the radio?” Rick answered, keeping his voice carefully calm. Not wanting to start an argument, but he saw Negan bristle at his tone. “And you need to sleep.”

“I'm fine.”

“Negan, I'm out here to help you,” Rick reminded him gently. “Let me work with you.”

“I didn't ask you to come.”

“No. But I’m here now. Come on, we can make it into Woodbridge by morning. If it’s still there, I might know where we can get some batteries.” He carefully walked up to his spooked horse and started calming him.

“Oh?”

“CRM stash. If it’s there. Should be some food too.”

“Good.” Negan went over to Moonshine and slapped the blanket and saddle on her back, her ears flicked back like she was considering biting him.

“Otherwise we need to find Daryl before we starve,” he tried to joke.

Negan glared at him but Rick didn't lose his grin. Negan sighed. “He would tease me about my tracking skills.”

“How the fuck did ya catch anythin’ us fed stompin’ ‘round like that?” Rick said mimicking Daryl’s thicker accent, smirking triumphantly when Negan finally smiled slightly and followed him down the hill.

Once Rick left, Daryl listened to Negan’s footsteps on the ground floor, his eyelids growing heavy after being awake for less than an hour talking to Rick. More accurately listening to Rick talk about how the new farmland and wall expansion was going.

Negan’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. For a split second Daryl was six years old, trying to hide under his blanket when he recognized his father’s footsteps on their old creaky steps.

Then he came back to himself. He was a grown man… stuck with his captor and possible rapist. He could have laughed at how that really wasn’t any better. At least back then he knew he would grow up and get out one day, now there was no escape. Nothing. It was until death, the absent ring did not make the sentiment less permanent.

I can’t shake it.

His own voice echoed through his mind.

He put the tray to the side and gripped the sheet under the comforter, trying to keep his breakfast down as Negan let himself into the room, their room. “Morning gorgeous,” Negan greeted with a wide grin.

The same wide grin he had after he killed Abraham. “He said suck my nuts!” Abraham’s body spread on the ground, his head nothing but blood, pieces of skull, and brains.

Daryl grunted in greeting.

“Need help with the stairs?”

Was that a subtle order? Join me downstairs, move around. Be useful.

He wondered if there was still a point system. He remembered the wives didn’t earn points for anything, so was his treatment free? Did he have to pay back in sex?

“Unless you’re too tired?” Negan added.

An out.

He wanted nothing more than to get away from the bed that felt like a prison cell, but he didn’t want to be around Negan. He glanced at the tray and the medication he was forced to take. “Yeah. Poppy milk s’hit me.” He hoped that was a good enough excuse if it was the wrong answer.

“Sure. I’ll run some errands then. I got behind in my duties while we were looking for you.” Negan leaned in and Daryl tightened his hand on the sheet and kissed back, keeping it chaste. “I’ll come back to check on you later.”

Daryl waited until the front door closed before he stood and slowly approached the stairs, listening and looking to ensure Negan was gone. The excuse he was thirsty was primed if Negan hadn’t really left. Thankfully, the ground floor was empty.

His crossbow was still on the table, he lifted it with his good hand, it looked to be the same one Dwight had taken from him. A few more scratches and dents, but it was in good condition; he – or someone – had been taking care of it. He wasn’t surprised to find most of the arrows stored separately and placed it carefully on the table before he limped to inspect the display cabinet of weapons. There were a lot: knives, guns, arrows, axes, a crowbar. No bat, he realized. He hadn’t seen Lucille anywhere yet.

It was obvious nothing would stop him taking any of them out of the cabinet and killing Negan. Negan had to know that, which made him confident. Or stupid.

Or it was just more proof of how broken Daryl had been.

An idea came to him, and Daryl limped back to the kitchen. He couldn’t take a knife from the cabinet and leave a gap, but he did take a knife from the kitchen drawer - after looking in every drawer for them. He took some tape he found in his search and carried them upstairs. There was nowhere he could hide it on himself, but he could hide it in reach.

He taped it on the back of the nightstand Negan had indicated to be Daryl's. If Negan tried anything, he could reach it.

His shaking legs forced him back onto the bed. He took a minute to catch his breath. He was too weak but he resisted the urge to lay down. Not yet. After a minute, he opened the drawer on his side and glanced at the seemingly random trinkets within. A snow globe was the biggest item, he shook it and watched the snow land on the carved building inside. Also in the drawer was a double-headed acorn, a twine bracelet, and some crudely drawn colorful pictures signed with Lil AK - Asskicker?, or RJ. He remembered Rick had mentioned an RJ.

A little carving of a person reminded him of Dwight and a memory he hadn't lost came back to him.

“Make it easy on yourself,” Dwight said to him, leaning against the door of his tiny cell.

Daryl glared up at him. “I ain't ever gonna kneel.”

“Yeah.” Dwight nodded thoughtfully. “I said that too.”

Daryl remembered the smoother-faced man and the two women he loved. “Yeah, I know.”

“See, that’s the thing, man. You don’t, but you’re gonna.”

Had Dwight been right? Did he kneel?

In the middle drawer it was nearly empty except for a piece of paper with his own name scribbled on cream-colored paper hidden near the back. The edges and folds were frayed but it was clearly looked after, opened and closed often but always carefully.

He opened it, and his eyes darted to the name at the end of the letter.

Carl.

He didn't dare breathe as he read the words.

Daryl,

I remember the day you first walked into camp with Merle. The first thing Mom told me was - don’t talk to either of you without her or Shane around - I was so scared of you because of that. Until you went looking for Sophia. I knew you would do the same for me and Judith.

Tell Judith about me. I know it’ll be too painful for Dad to talk about me, but I want her to know she had a badass older brother who loved her so much. Tell her about Mom and Shane. About all the people that loved her.

I know you've always done everything you can to protect us, defend us, what happened with Negan wasn't your fault.

This isn’t your fault.

Forgive yourself.

Thank you. For everything.

Love,

Carl

He shoved his good hand in his mouth to keep from making any noise. Tears still sprung to his eyes. He couldn’t hold back the choked sob muffled with his fist.

Was it because he threatened and pushed Negan when Carl came to the Sanctuary? Did he get Carl killed like Glenn?

But Rick said them .

A quiet voice in his mind whispered, “I'm naming him RJ. Rick Junior.” Michonne.

He knew the memories were still in there if he knew that. For a moment, he wondered if he wanted to remember anything. Did he want to remember everyone they lost? Were some of them his fault for disobeying Negan?

Carl had to know he was going to die if he had time to write a letter.

No wonder Rick had broken and just followed Negan's lead.

Who else had they lost? Rick was the only person he had seen that he knew. Judith was alive, he knew that. Daryl looked over the letter from her and carefully folded it to match Carl’s.

He put the letter back carefully, breathing deeply until he calmed down. The bottom drawer had some extra bandanas and a few washcloths.

He shuffled around to the other side of the bed, Negan's nightstand. He opened the top one and then immediately slammed it shut again.

Daryl covered his mouth with a shaking hand, if he threw up the food Negan would know.

He needed to get out. Now. Go before anyone could catch him.

What would happen to his family then?

Slowly, he opened the drawer again and peered at the items inside. Coiled silk rope. Handcuffs. A cock ring. Nipple clamps. A gag. A large dildo. A big tub of something pale green.

And then some… pictures? His face burned as he looked through pictures of himself in various compromising positions. The man in the picture looked nothing like himself, confident, uncaring. Or maybe he was lifeless and broken? Just doing whatever he could if it meant he and his family would survive.

Fuck.

“Go back while you can,” Sherry’s voice rang in his mind. “You know I did. Whatever he’s done to you, there’s more. There’s always more. You won’t get away. And when you’re back, it’ll be worse.”

“How is he?”

“Doing fine, just resting,” Negan lied to everyone who asked him the same question. He wanted to scream that something was very wrong; he didn't know what it was or how to help his husband. But he smiled and assured everyone who loved him that Daryl was okay. Repairing some of the damage he had done to his relationships with the town while he could. They all understood, and with the time away and the return of Daryl, it was much easier than he expected.

“Can we visit?”

“Maybe in a few days. Give him time to readjust,” he said, answering everyone the same way. Except as Judith limped towards him, he knew he wouldn't keep the teenager nor her younger brother out.

Negan gripped Daryl’s hand staring at his bruised and battered face. He survived so much, he would survive this. He had to.

Rick told him that he thought Daryl woke up during the surgery but was unconscious again pretty quickly. Thank God.

He didn’t look when the infirmary doors opened, people were coming and going all the time but he did look at the strange limping clattering sound behind him.

He turned around and saw Judith. Walking.

Both Rick and RJ were close on either side of her, three hands out ready for her to take his but she was walking on her own.

Tears sprung to his eyes and he smiled for the first time in months, a true smile.

“Holy shit, Miss Grimes. Look at you.”

Judith mirrored his grin. “It’s still new,” she said breathlessly. RJ pulled a chair from the other bedside and put it close to her. She glared at him but sat down. “I made it from home to here. Though stairs are harder.” He would never forget carrying her up those stairs the first time. The pain on her face because she wanted to walk them but she was still healing, she didn’t even have prosthetics. Rick had sent her measurements to Haven, who made the best prosthetics, along with his own arm so they could make her a matching one. Leaving him without his hand for the weeks or months it would take, but he didn’t care.

They were lucky it came back in time to leave to find Daryl.

“It’s incredible.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for your first steps, kid.” He glanced at Rick and saw the same guilt across his face, Negan should never have let him come along. Rick glared at him, knowing what Negan was thinking.

“You found Daryl, that’s what mattered.”

“I thought it would be a few more months before you walked.”

Judith shrugged. “Izzy said ‘cause I’m young still, it helps.” She pulled the chair closer to Daryl. “Is he–”

“He’ll be fine,” Negan told her, finally sounding confident in that fact. “He’ll be so goddamn proud of you.”

Judith’s cheeks tinted red. 

“Tomorrow,” he told the siblings as he bent down to greet Dog, the old boy still limping along with the teenager he loved as his own. RJ was close at her side, always ready to help her as she learned to walk again. Judith narrowed her eyes. “Tomorrow,” he repeated.

Both kids pouted.

“But I’ll be back at your next PT session. When is it?”

Judith smiled then. “Tomorrow morning. I’ve been moved to just three times a week.”

“Great. I’ll be there, you can come by after if you're up for it? RJ meet us there?” They both agreed. Negan squeezed her shoulder as she went past him. Negan chuckled to himself, not offended when Dog ran after her. At least something was still the same.

Once word seemed to have finally spread, and he was left mostly alone, Negan made his way to the gate. He didn't have any errands to run, nobody expected him to do anything while Daryl was missing and now he knew they would let him focus on getting Daryl better before it was time to get back to contributing to the community.

Instead, he told Yumiko at the gate he wouldn't be long or go far. She hesitated but let him out alone. Negan silently thanked her with the sign they had all learned for Kelly and Connie, adding a wink.

He walked around the side of the walls until he was an even distance from either gate and leaned against the wall.

With shaking hands, he lit one of their cigarettes with the lighter he had grabbed before he left. He sucked down the stale smoke, the familiar act calming his nerves. Daryl will be fine. He survived so much.

“And if he’s not?” Rick’s voice spat. Negan glanced back at the man beside him, his eyes flicking down to his two human hands. “If he leaves you or dies, will you lose your mind again, bash the heads of more of my people?”

“They’re my people too now,” Negan reminded him, ignoring the memory of how volatile and enraged he’d been before he left. Knowing he was just arguing with himself. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Negan.” Because the answer was he didn’t know. He had felt himself slipping into the darkness which was why he finally left to go after Daryl. But if he had known already? If he knew that Daryl was dead and had no purpose, no drive to find him? Would he have just snapped?

“I won’t!” Negan denied it even as he remembered his conversation with Rick while looking for Daryl.

I’m scared of losing him. But I’m also scared of losing myself again.

“But he has to be okay.”

Even if something was wrong now, he would heal and he would eventually talk. Then things would go back to normal.

They had to.

He stayed out a couple of hours so as to not disturb Daryl’s rest and made it home at the same time Izzy was walking to the door. “Hey, Gorgeous,” he greeted her with a faux cheerfulness which she saw right through, given the stare she gave him and the comforting touch on his arm.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He tried to turn his smile more genuine, but she squeezed his bicep and then dropped her hand.

“Did you let him out?” she asked, glancing behind him as though she missed Daryl at first.

Negan chuckled. “Nah, just needed to do some stuff. Come on in.” He opened the door for her and gestured for her to go first. “Sit, let me check on him.” He jogged up the stairs to find Daryl in bed, just beginning to stir.

Daryl opened his eyes first, and when they focused on Negan, he sat up quickly and then winced, his hand flying to his side.

“Sorry, Darlin’, Izzy's here to check your bandages.”

“Uh, fine.”

“Iz!” He called out. She joined them, smiling as always. “Hey, you, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“New rule, the word fine is banned in this house,” Negan ordered, only partly joking.

“Hypocrite,” Lucille’s ghost snapped from behind him. “You’re always just fine.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked to him and back to Izzy when she laughed. Negan clenched his fist, not letting his smile falter for even a second.

“I need to change your bandages. Can you lay down for me?”

Daryl laid back and lifted his shirt to give Izzy access to the bandage. Her hands were gentle as she removed the bandage on Daryl's abdomen and just as gently checked the wound.

Negan sat beside him, the bed dipping with his weight.

“Do you recall the word I told you yesterday?” Izzy asked as she spread the antiseptic cream onto the wound.

Daryl was silent for a second before saying, “Banana.”

“Great. Thank you. Have you had any of the things we mentioned before? Vomiting, dizziness?”

“No.”

Negan hesitated, glancing at Daryl. He didn't want to betray his trust, but Izzy needed to know.

“You got to tell her,” Laura reminded him quietly. Negan bit back the I know snap he wanted to say. Daryl knew about his ghosts but Izzy would want to know more if she found out. “There’s something wrong, you need to tell the doctor.”

“What is it?” Izzy asked, catching the conflicted look he couldn't hide in time.

“He's been confused,” Negan told her, sending Daryl an apologetic look for saying something.

“Confused how?”

“I'm fi– ok,” Daryl snapped.

Negan sighed. “It's like when I say something, he's taking a second to respond. Like he's not sure what I'm asking. And Rick has noticed.”

Izzy nodded thoughtfully as she replaced the bandage. “Give yourself a chance to rest and we'll go from there. Let me check your head as well.”

She helped him sit up and gently moved his hair out of the way to see the back of his head.

Daryl jerked at the movement. Negan intertwined his fingers through Daryl’s, and put his other hand on Daryl's shoulder, offering him comfort. Daryl stilled, and his eyes flickered down to their hands, eyebrows pulling together, and he took a deep breath. Izzy leaned back, a soft smile in place.

“We’re all good here. Can I talk to you downstairs, Negan?”

Negan hummed and released Daryl with a squeeze of his shoulder, smiling at him. “I'll make us some lunch when she's gone,” he promised before following her.

“What's wrong?” He demanded once they were in the kitchen and hopefully out of earshot.

“Nothing's wrong exactly. I just wanted to talk about the confusion without worrying Daryl.”

“But you're willing to worry me? How kind.”

She ignored his sarcasm and asked, “Has he talked about what happened out there yet?”

“No.”

“So, it could be a few things. Don't forget he's on opium, it's a low dose, but he is high. That could be confusing him, slowing him down. Or it could have something to do with what happened. I've seen something similar in brainwashed victims or people taken as slaves for communities, when they lose part of themselves.”

Negan shook his head. “Daryl survived three months being tortured nearly constantly. He wouldn't break after only a month.”

“Physical and psychological torture are different. But he is strong, mentally. So maybe with time, and when he's ready to talk about it, he can heal.”

Negan nodded slowly, leaning against the counter to steady himself. He needed Daryl to tell him what happened, and then he needed to smash some heads into nothing but goop and shards of skull.

When he calmed enough to speak he said, “You said a few things. Not two or a couple. So there's at least one more.”

Izzy sat up, staring him down, calm and collected. Always a doctor. Pulling her professionalism out to soothe him, which meant bad news. “He came in with a head wound and was unconscious for a few days, who knows how long before you found him. He only woke when I cut into him. He could have a brain injury. Unless we can find a neurosurgeon, a working OR, and a CT machine there’s nothing I can do except hope the damage resolves itself.”

The option he hadn't wanted to hear or even think to himself. Brain damage. Irreversible brain damage.

“What-what can I do to help?” Negan needed to do something, his chest tight.

“There really isn’t much. Try and keep his pain down with the poppy milk. Elevated pain levels will raise his blood pressure and if he has a brain bleed it could make it worse.” Izzy got a funny look on her face. “I’m sure it’s close to the last thing on your mind but… You also need to give it at least two weeks.”

Negan blinked, his mind not grasping what she was getting at. Izzy sighed, “Sex, Negan. Try to give him some extra time, because we can’t see how his brain is doing. His other bruises might be a good judge on how he’s healing, but I still think two weeks is best.”

While sex wasn’t completely absent from his list of priorities it was so far down it never occurred to him that she would be talking about that. The words brain damage seemed to take over everything else.

“Yeah, okay. Not a problem. Thank you.” He kept his voice neutral; if he broke, he wasn’t sure he would be able to put himself back together in time to be there for Daryl. Daryl needed him right now.

Daryl, who might not be the same man he had been in love with for nearly four years.

He saw her out and took a few deep breaths before joining his husband again.

He never wanted to lie to Daryl, but he decided to keep that information to himself for now. At least until Daryl was healed.

Suddenly exhausted from the events of the last few days the last two months , he sat on the bed beside Daryl, kissing him gently. He just needed to touch him and feel him alive, his heart beating.

Daryl hesitated but slowly kissed him back. His lips were careful, as though he was testing the water, his tongue brushed against Negan. Negan relaxed, allowing him to deepen the kiss, tasting his husband again, feeling every beat of his heart.

He had to pull back as his dick twitched wanting in on the action. Sex wasn’t on his mind before, but Daryl was just as arduous as he was most of the time. Negan knew he would get stubborn if he told him they had two weeks at least before he could fuck his husband again. He pressed his forehead against Daryl and murmured, “That’s more like you.”

“Told ya, I’m okay,” Daryl replied smoothly. Negan opened his eyes and found Daryl staring at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. Like always.” Negan pulled back and cleared his throat. “Need me to do your feet again? They need to heal up as much as the rest of you.”

Daryl frowned for just a second before smoothing his features out. “Uh… only if you wanna.”

“Always.” Negan pecked his lips again and stood up to get the moisturizer. “Strip. I’ll do your back and legs as well.” When Daryl tensed, eyebrows shooting up, Negan quickly added, “I’ll be careful of your incision, don’t worry.”

A few beats passed before Daryl slowly removed his shirt, his hands trembling. Negan took one of them, pausing him.

“If you don’t want to–” Maybe the memories of the hotel were too close to the surface. Sometimes Daryl still had a hard time. They were both aware healing wasn’t a straight line and going backwards just made sense in this case.

“I can,” Daryl spoke, his voice so quiet. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes.” 

Daryl pushed off the rest of his shirt and Negan decided not to fight him on this, Daryl knew his own mind. He sometimes wanted to push through his fear and focus on Negan’s touch.

Daryl stood and undid his zipper. Awkwardly shimming his pants off himself, turning his hips away.

“Ah, sorry.” Negan remembered Daryl couldn't bend, and he knelt on the ground to help him remove his pants.

Daryl's eyes were locked on him, seeming confused again. “Lay down,” Negan murmured, leaning forward to kiss the bite mark tattoo on his husband’s thigh, resisting the urge to scrape his teeth against it. Remembering how a few months ago Daryl had shot him a shy smile and told him they were going on a trip. How he’d shown Negan the tattoo shop and dragged him in. Daryl had cleared the shop on the run before, cleaned it up making sure to sterilize the equipment. Daryl let him tattoo his teeth marks there. Since then scraping and nibbling on it had become an almost ritual for them, and he didn’t want to rile Daryl up. 

Daryl glanced at it, touching the tattoo. His eyes widened, pupils expanding, and his breathing changed; Negan almost reminded him that he was injured and they should wait until he was better, but Daryl turned and laid down on the bed.

Once he was settled, Negan dug through his nightstand to grab their upstairs moisturizer. Daryl tensed again, and Negan felt bad that he couldn’t pull out any of their toys to help Daryl focus on being home the way they often celebrated his long trips away. It was like now that Izzy mentioned it every moment was sexually charged. Forbidden.

He warmed a scoop of the moisturizer in his hands before he knelt beside Daryl and gently ran his hands down his back, digging his thumbs into the thicker scars, feeling the muscle slowly begin to loosen under his ministrations. A massage would help with the pain, Negan felt himself steady as he compiled things to try and keep Daryl’s blood pressure lower. As though it would help him heal faster.

Daryl was silent under his touch, his breathing slowing and becoming deeper as he relaxed and drifted.

Negan moved down his back until he was just above his bare ass. He thought about giving him a teasing squeeze but decided to skip that right now and moved to his thighs. Methodical and gentle as always.

He spent more time on his still-cracked feet than his scarred back. Working the moisturizer into the torn skin, wondering if he could convince Daryl to stay in bed and not move for at least a week until they were healed, but he knew that would never work.

Once finished with his feet, Negan laid next to Daryl, on his side facing him. “Better?” He asked with a smile.

Daryl was staring at him with that same confusion he seemed to have permanently these days. “Yeah. Uh, thanks?”

Negan chuckled. “Never gotta thank me, Darlin'.” He leaned in to kiss him, the angle awkward, but Daryl tilted his head to make it easier. Suddenly he remembered he never brought Daryl food like he had planned, Izzy having derailed all of his thoughts. “Wanna come down while I make us a late lunch?” He glanced out the window. “Early dinner, maybe.”

Daryl stared for another few beats before he pushed himself up. “Yeah. I'll get dressed.”

Chapter Text

Rick looked around the woods, searching his memory and for the logo he knew it was around here somewhere until he finally saw it, the circles etched into the tree.

“Here.” Rick saw the confusion flash in Negan’s eyes at the section of woods that looked the same as the rest. Rick approached the tree and crouched. He had to scrape away leaves and a thin layer of dirt before he found the wooden panel to lift, revealing a hole dug into the ground. It was filled with boxes of food, bottles of water, cans of gas, and a few different caliber bullets. And the batteries they needed.

“Holy shit. How’d you know?”

Rick tapped the CRM logo with his prosthetic.

“Huh.” Negan blinked, stepping closer to stare at it. “That– Trash lady, she had stuff with that logo.”

“Jadis,” Rick supplied. “ Anne . She’s the reason I’m alive and the reason I was gone so long,” Rick admitted quietly. “You didn’t know?”

“No. I knew the CRM… rescued you from the bridge but wouldn’t let you leave. You’ve offhandedly said things about it, but I wasn’t exactly invited to the welcome back party where I assume you explained everything.”

Rick nodded, cheeks burning sheepishly. He had nearly forgotten about what it was like in the beginning, how he could barely look at Negan without seeing the old him and wanting nothing more than to throw him in the cell again. Daryl had only stayed at that party for an hour or so before disappearing back to Negan, overwhelmed by everyone. For the first time, Rick realized he probably also felt bad about Negan being excluded, or missed him enough to leave early.

He opened one of the boxes taking out a few MREs to fill his bag as he explained, “She was the one who took me to the CRM, it saved me. The injuries I had after the blast were deadly, but I was stuck there. They have this program for entry, and it’s not optional once you’re there. I had to work and kill walkers. After enough years pass they give you options on where you’ll fit in best. I joined the military. I tried to escape five times. This was number three.” He gestured vaguely at his prosthetic hand.

“Shit. That’s what she was going to do to me.”

“Huh?” Rick glanced back to Negan still standing and staring at the CRM logo, wide-eyed.

“She grabbed me after you and me fought in that old house. She was talking to someone on the radio, called me an… A?”

Rick hummed. “Yeah. That fits. You’re lucky they didn’t get you, A’s are leaders. But the CRM didn’t want leaders. They get intentionally bit and then experimented on… used . She called me a B to protect me. An average person just trying to survive.”

“Christ. I knocked her, made her drop the flare.” Rick scoffed, shaking his head. “If they got me, woulda made things a lot easier on you,” Negan mused, crouching beside him.

“Probably. Worked out in the end though,” Rick muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice as he turned back to the supplies. If she had taken Negan then it would have stopped the war, it would have stopped the aftermath, and the bridge.

“You’d swap with me to get to watch Judith grow up though,” Negan said as though reading his thoughts.

Rick didn’t dare lie to him and shrugged. “Wouldn’t you if our positions were reversed?”

“In a heartbeat,” Negan admitted. Rick smiled and his shoulders dropped, the bitterness fading. It wasn’t Negan’s fault, none of that was. They fell silent as they both filled their bags with MREs, water, and some bullets that fit their guns. “S’a good stash,” Negan commented.

“There’s shit like this all over the place. Just gotta know where to look. We were here once for a mission. I knew I was so close but I couldn’t leave. A man who ran my unit, Okafor, threatened Alexandria. The CRM would wipe us all out to keep their secrets safe. Made sure I couldn’t leave because by then I knew too much.” He sighed and stood, his knees cracking as he did. “There’s an empty motel nearby we can stop in for the night.”

Negan hummed and stood, helping Rick cover the supplies again before following him and asked, “How’d you get away in the end?”

Rick chuckled and explained everything that happened at the CRM as they walked, Negan listening in fascination.

The motel itself was large with over twenty rooms spread out over two stories. They split up, Rick on the ground floor, and Negan on the second floor to search each room. Rick found a few comics he took for RJ but otherwise, it was long since raided and empty. He jogged up the stairs to catch up with Negan on the second story. He found him in one of the rooms in the middle of the building, staring into the open bathroom door.

Fear spiked through him making him stalk forward into the room, gun gripped in one hand and ready to spring the knife from his prosthetic. He looked over Negan’s shoulder at a naked walker curled up in a bathtub. It was so old it had started to melt and grow into the thin curtain that had tangled around it a long time ago, but Rick could see the festered wounds that covered its back and torso. And the long cuts down both arms.

It growled and tried to reach for them, the too-familiar squelch of skin pulling apart as it pulled its arm away from where it was stuck against its body, having a reason to move for the first time in years.

“I thought–” Rick swallowed the bile in his mouth. Daryl.

“It’s how I found him that day. In a bathtub like this, whipped, burned, broken . So goddamn thin. He told me once he had a piece of ceramic from the floor tiles, he was going to slit his wrists with it when he couldn’t take it anymore. He was close to doing it when I found him.”

Rick clenched his jaw, too many painful memories hitting him at once. He needed to find Daryl now .

He stormed past Negan and stabbed the walker, letting it drop into the tub, finally still and at rest.

Negan cooked him something called Shakshuka, talking at him all through making it. Going over how he adjusted some of the ingredients depending on what they could grow. “It should have red onions. But we haven’t managed to find any seeds or plants in the wild yet, so white onions for now.”

Daryl tried to listen, but all he could do was try and hold still. The phantom sensation of hands massaging him making his skin crawl. He wanted to scrub at his side where the clothed hard cock had occasionally rubbed and brushed like a reminder of his purpose. He thought Negan was going to take him then, strip and force Daryl’s hips up. He was mentally preparing himself. Ready for it, to do whatever it took to keep his family safe.

And yet, Negan didn’t rub against him or try to force him into anything. No lingering hands or prodding fingers into him. Not even any lewd commentary. He might look like the man who had killed his friends a few days ago, but Daryl was starting to wonder if he was the same man.

The door swinging open had him sitting up straighter as two teenagers walked in, whispering to each other.

A girl, maybe fifteen, with a scar down her face and her right arm and leg were both prosthetics rather than human, from just below her elbow and just below her knee. The boy seemed a few years younger, his darker skin unscathed.

They both froze, eyes locked on Negan.

“What are you two doing here?” Negan's booming voice had Daryl glancing at where Negan moved his crossbow against the wall. It wasn’t loaded, but the drawer of knives wasn’t far either. What could he reach first to defend the kids? He didn't know them, but they were kids . He couldn't let Negan hurt them.

“Uh–”

“Judith made me,” the boy said quickly.

Daryl's heart lurched at her name despite knowing there was no chance it was her .

Judith wasn't even two the last time he'd seen his Lil Asskicker. If that teenager was her, that meant it had been more than just a few years he’d lost.

Judith flicked the boy in the arm with her real hand, making him wince and rub at the spot. “Ow!”

“Dad said he saw you go out the gate,” ‘Judith’ said as though it was a good excuse. “We thought–”

“You’d disobey my order to wait until tomorrow and sneak into my house and possibly disturb Daryl while he's resting?”

Both kids were unmoving, eyes wide.

Daryl stood slowly, putting himself between them and Negan's hard glare. “They just wanted to check on me, s’fine .” He hoped he wasn't making it worse on the kids, he would take Negan’s anger.

Then, to his continuing confusion, Negan's glare morphed into a teasing grin. “I'm just surprised it took ya so long. Sit. I made enough for y’all too.”

“I forget how mean you can be,” Judith muttered.

“You have no idea, kid.” Negan winked at her, making Judith laugh.

The kids relaxed, the boy ran past Daryl to sit at the table. Judith was slower, limping and pain flashed across her face before she attempted to hide it. Negan reached out a hand but she ignored him, making her own way to the chair the boy pulled out for her.

“We took some cookies from Carol’s last batch,” the boy said, putting a small bag on the table between them all.

Daryl’s heart clenched at her name, and he slowly retook his seat. “Uh, thanks.”

There was a tense silence and Daryl felt like there was something he was supposed to say. Judith was staring at him expectantly, her expression mirrored by Negan and the boy.

When a few awkward beats passed, Negan prompted, “She’s walking , Daryl.”

Daryl blinked. That must be new. The girl with the same name as his Lil Asskicker had to learn to walk again.

He tried to force a smile in place. “I saw. S’real good.”

Judith didn’t match his smile though, disappointment crossed her face. Shit. Even Negan looked angry as he shook his head and mouthed, “what the fuck?”

Judith shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not much, I guess.” She opened the bag the boy had put on the table and took out a cookie. Even Daryl could tell her attempt at teasing was forced. “So, what happened? Are you joining me and Dad in the fake arm department?”

Dad? He couldn’t see anyone he recognized in her face. Adoption was probably common this far into everything, it was already becoming common in the two years he remembered.

“No,” he said finally.

The teenagers looked at each other, frowning.

“I told you he was going to be too tired,” the boy snapped.

“ Who told you?” Negan asked as he put Daryl’s antibiotic and poppy milk in front of him. Daryl tried not to grimace as he quickly drank them both.

As he did, the girl lifted her fake arm, the back of it directed at the boy and a knife sprung from the closed metal fist. Daryl barely contained his flinch. The boy lifted his middle finger in answer. The girl laughed and flexed her bicep, the knife disappeared back inside the fist.

“Judith–” Negan spoke with a tone of warning that had Daryl tensing.

“I did nothing.”

“I think threatening your brother with a knife is worse than flipping him off,” Negan commented. He filled four plates and placed them in front of each person. “Bon Appetit.” 

Daryl’s eyes darted between all three of them. It was all so domestic .

“So, what happened to you?” The boy asked again, immediately taking a mouthful and humming around it.

“A lot,” he murmured. He had no idea.

“We can just catch you up on some of what you’ve missed then!” The girl launched into stories that contained the names of people he didn’t know, but he tried to follow and remember them. Someone named Charlie had taken over checking his traps, but they didn’t seem to know how to reset them right, and the yield had gone down.

Dog was fine, missing him, but she made him stay at her house for now so he didn't aggravate Daryl's injuries.

Someone named Peach was being taken care of - pampered for bringing him home. Daryl wondered how important Peach was; the name made his heart speed up and his anxiety twist, followed by relief that they were okay. Was this someone else he was responsible for? If they brought him back shouldn’t he feel resentment?

Apparently, a community had shorted a shipment, mixing dead batteries in with the good ones. Negan’s eyes darkened and asked which one. Daryl felt his stomach drop, thinking about what punishment must have been dealt to the community. Judith wasn’t sure as all the shipments apparently arrived around the same time.

Daryl wondered how many communities Negan had under his thumb now. 

Then the boy spoke again. “I finished the Scott Pilgrim Vs. The Universe series. I loved it a lot. Thank you for getting it for me. Dad and Negan brought me back some but they’re missing volume six, could you look for it next time you’re out?”

Out? As in, outside the walls? He gapped, unable to speak for a few beats. He glanced at Negan and managed to say, “Uh… If I can.”

“It’ll be a while until he’s out there again,” Negan reminded them. “He needs to heal up and regain his strength first.”

“Then I can go with you!” Judith said excitedly.

“He’ll be ready sooner than you,” Negan told her gently. “Four to six weeks. For you, you need to be able to shoot and fight. And run. Sorry, Miss Grimes.”

Daryl’s heart stopped, the rest of Negan’s sentence drowned out by the ringing in his ears. The confirmation. Judith Grimes . No. It couldn’t be. Judith was just a common name.

This girl was… fifteen or sixteen. She couldn’t be her .

Judith couldn’t be injured so badly.

That would mean he’s lost nearly fourteen years. That would mean he’s been trapped with Negan for fourteen years . No wonder Negan thought he was so broken that he wouldn’t fight back. Did he give up fourteen years ago? Thirteen? Ten? Five?

One ?

Why the hell did he run now ?

A hand touched his. Daryl moved too quickly, ignoring the pain in his abdomen so he could grab his crossbow. He slipped his arm from the sling to balance the front of it and bring it up. It wasn’t loaded, but he didn’t care. It was too late now, he had reacted on instinct, committed to it. He held the empty crossbow pointed at Negan. An empty gesture of defiance, it would take too long to load. He wanted to tell him to fuck off. He wouldn’t do this for one more day. He wouldn’t let Negan touch him or anyone.

But then he caught Judith’s wide eyes, looking at him in terror. Negan’s hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away from Daryl. His other hand was by his belt, hand on the hilt of a knife that rested there. How could he have forgotten the knife Negan had?

The contrast to moments before was staggering.

She was happy. She was safe.

The boy he didn’t know was also happy and safe.

Did his… situation with Negan help that to happen? Help his Lil Asskicker to be healthy?

Why was she so hurt?

The boy and the baby, they deserve a roof.

If he fought back now, things could be so much worse. Better him than anyone else forced into this place.

If he killed Negan, would someone worse take his place? There had to be a reason Rick hadn’t killed him.

For a split second, he was in the clearing from a week ago, his shoulder burning, attacking Negan. Trying to protect his family but getting Glenn killed instead.

What had he done?

Negan’s heart pounded, his eyes darting between the crossbow and Daryl’s eyes. 

Unloaded , thank God. 

In his mind Judith was replaced in an instant with another young woman, right arm gone at the elbow. Arrow through her forehead as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Lillian. Killed by a terrified and hurt Daryl just desperate to escape.

He thought about the man from back then, half lying across the seats of a truck, holding an unloaded crossbow, shaking with pain and fear. His eyes as wild as his husband's were now.

“You know that’s not loaded, right?” Negan echoed his own words, fresh in his mind. His hand had drifted to his knife on instinct, but he lifted it away, holding it between them.

Daryl glanced at Judith and RJ again and abruptly lowered his crossbow, choking out, “I’m sorry– I won’t– I’m–” His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. “Negan,” his name came out pleading, bordering on desperate. Help me, please .

“I know. I know, Darlin’.” Negan let go of Judith and closed the gap between them, glad when he heard the front door open and close as the kids let themselves out without needing prompting. Negan wrapped his arms around Daryl, letting him rest his face against his chest and hoped Daryl couldn’t hear how his heart was pounding.

What the hell triggered him? Was it Judith touching him with her prosthetic? Did Lilian ever touch him with hers?

Negan wanted to apologize; Daryl had barely acknowledged Judith walking, which should have been his first sign something was wrong. Then he’d seen Daryl pale and start shaking and thought he was tired, missing the signs of a flashback. Daryl would kick his ass for apologizing, so instead they ignored it.

After a few minutes, Negan sat back in his abandoned chair, unable to kneel on the floor any longer with his left leg screaming at him. He kept hold of Daryl’s hands, eyes locked on his wide scared eyes. Like he thought Negan was going to be angry over his knee jerk reaction. Like he wouldn’t understand it was a flashback because for the first time, he threatened someone else. Or maybe he was scared of what almost happened, the multitude of bruises and cuts Negan had received over the years now transferring to someone else.

“C’mon. Let's go eat in bed. You’ve been up a while and were only cut open a few days ago. You know most people aren’t allowed out of bed after an operation.” Negan stood and tugged at Daryl’s hand, helping him stand. “Go on. I’ll bring the rest of dinner up.”

The weight of the crossbow was agony on his broken arm and missing finger. Negan’s eyes were hard as he looked at the unloaded weapon pointed at him. Then they flickered up and were amused.

“You know that’s not loaded, right?” Negan mocked him, and Daryl wanted to puke.

Not only had he threatened Negan, but there was nothing he could do to protect the children from his wrath. His eyes flickered to Judith —literally in Negan’s clutches— and the boy. Negan called him Judith's brother. RJ. Rick’s son. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did.

His arms went numb, the crossbow lowering, he was going to get the rest of Rick’s children killed.

“I’m sorry—” it wouldn’t be enough. He could beg, but how could he undo what he’d done?

“I won’t—” run, threaten you, do this again. Anything he said would just highlight what he’d already done. All the things Negan could punish him for by hurting the kids.

What could he do, offer, to distract Negan? “I’m—” The word stuck in his throat and he fell to his knees, lowering himself, he didn't say it before for Glenn; now he had to for Judith, “—Negan.”

His voice wasn’t his own, weak and pleading, but it was enough because Negan released Judith. “I know. I know, Darlin’.”

Negan moved towards him, and RJ grabbed Judith and they both rushed away, out of danger.

Safe. 

Surprisingly gentle hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into Negan’s broad chest. He could barely breathe, his chest tight. Waiting for whatever punishment Negan was going to mete out.

Glenn and Abraham would forgive him. They would understand it was for the kids.

How long did it take Daryl last time to give in and kneel to him?

Did Negan use Judith then like he did now? Threaten her to get him to submit.

Is that why her limbs were gone? Half her body removed as punishment. Fuck , how could he have let it happen? Should he fight back now or trust he had made the best or only options in the past?

He had the horrifying thought that maybe the kids didn't know the danger Negan posed. Judith was so young when Negan attacked them in the clearing, owned them. RJ wasn't born. They grew up indoctrinated into this pretend benevolent Negan, surrounded by Saviors, unaware of the person he really was. I forget how mean you could be. Did Judith remember from before? Some hint of a memory from when she was younger? Had he given up protected her fast enough she barely remembered the terror he must have ruled with?

Eventually, Daryl had to breathe, his lungs burning. He inhaled the scent of leather-bound library books, and his body unconsciously relaxed, submitting further.

Apparently, that’s what Negan was waiting for because he leaned back and sat down in his chair. Towering over Daryl, who didn’t know what to expect next. Negan still had his hands, and Daryl wondered if he was going to lose another finger. It was obvious he could still handle his crossbow.

He was just about crotch level right now, should he try to distract Negan with a blow job? Would it save his hands? Was he about to join Judith and Rick in the fake arm department?

“C’mon. Let’s go eat in bed. You’ve been up a while and were only cut open a few days ago. You know most people aren’t allowed out of bed after an operation.” Negan didn’t say it like a punishment was coming. Gently tugging Daryl up by his unbroken arm. “Go on. I’ll bring dinner up.”

Daryl’s feet were like lead as he went up the stairs, quickly glancing to check that the front door was closed and the kids were gone. They were safe.

They wouldn’t pay for Daryl’s transgression, at least not this one.

Negan waited until Daryl was out of sight before dropping his head into his hands, slowly letting out a heavy breath.

“If anyone else was to threaten the girl like that, they would be jam upon the floor,” The Croat spoke from where he stood next to Negan’s crowbar.

Negan glared across the table at him and spoke quietly, not wanting Daryl to hear him, “Of course I wasn't going to kill Daryl, he wasn't in his right mind.”

“And if the crossbow was loaded?”

“Then I'd take the damn arrow myself.” Negan had been ready, prepared to pull Judith down and get between them. What if it was a gun? They had a few, despite preferring their reusable weapons more.

“How would he feel, Buraz? Afterwards? Knowing he had tried to kill the little one and instead hurt or killed you? Ne, he is a threat. Neutralize him.”

“Never,” Negan growled the word and squeezed his eyes shut. Trying not to think the treacherous thought that he was right, or remember that his first instinct had been to grab his knife.

“If you're not around next time?” Croat looked at the weapons cabinet and raised his eyebrow.

Neutralize . Negan’s eyes flickered to the crossbow and the other weapons around the house.

Disarm . He could take the weapons out of the house. 

Daryl was plenty dangerous without the knives and other weapons, but it would give him time to remember himself. Izzy’s words from just an hour ago echoed. “He could have a brain injury.”

Negan refused to think about it being forever, the confusion being permanent . He started to plan, thinking about how to get the weapons out and where to store them for now. 

Not Daryl’s crossbow, it was too precious and they needed something, just in case . A safety blanket. A promise it wasn’t forever, for both of them.

He just had to get Daryl on board.

Negan got everything together. Removed the arrows from the crossbow’s holder and placed them in the cabinet, accessible enough in an emergency while making it less dangerous otherwise. He put Judith and RJ’s plates in the fridge for tomorrow and used a tray to balance their own dishes, Daryl's crossbow held in his other hand.

Lucille was waiting by the stairs, following him up them like his own personal shoulder demon. “What if it’s forever? Can you stand it? Would he want to live like this?” Lucille’s voice was speculative and kind. Making the words hurt so much worse than if she spat them at him. “Can you do what he needs? Or will you leave on a supply run when he needs you most and let him realize what I did? That the only way you’ll ever let him go is to take himself out. Poppy milk is probably as good as the pills I had. Might even be quicker. Or will you stay forever by his side? Trapping him.”

He just needs time, Negan told her in his mind, not wanting to answer her aloud in case Daryl overheard.

He found Daryl sitting on the bed. He’d taken his shirt off, and the sling was loose around one half of his body. He was staring at his bandaged hand, the wrap covering the two missing fingers.

When Negan walked in, he dropped his hand to rest on his thigh. Negan glanced at him then put the crossbow on the dresser across the room from their bed. Daryl couldn't reach it quickly there.

“So, I think it would be best if I removed the weapons in the house for now. I'll take them out of the cabinet and store them somewhere safe.”

Negan glanced back at Daryl again who hadn't moved, face impassive. He turned back to adjust the crossbow, making sure it was a safe distance and also visible for reassurance. It hurt his heart that Daryl might need that, that he felt unsafe or anxious in their home. But also knew that he always messed with it when nervous or thinking.

“Only for now, until–” he licked his lips. Daryl probably hated himself enough for his outburst. He didn't want to make him feel worse, but he needed Daryl not to fight this. He didn’t want to argue with Daryl that he was unsafe around the kids. “I know you don't want Judith or RJ hurt.”

Negan glanced back in time to see Daryl's flinch.

Damnit.

He turned, taking the tray with the leftover food, and sat beside him. “Just until things settle back into a normal rhythm.”

Daryl nodded rapidly. “Yeah.”

“Great.” It was like a weight fell off his shoulders, and Negan relaxed. “I’m glad you understand. That it didn’t have to be a fight. That we can just talk about this.” Daryl was looking down at his hands, and Negan noticed his broken arm was still pulled out of its sling, probably too painful for him to put back by himself. “Better to get it over with before we eat. In case the pain makes you sick, despite the poppy milk.”

The poppy milk was supposed to be taken with food, and the way Daryl swallowed and how pale he was probably meant it was already making him nauseous. But when Negan stood and put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder to keep him still while he moved his arm, he could feel him trembling. 

A lot had happened. After flashbacks, Daryl often shook and needed time to calm down from the adrenaline. It didn’t make Negan feel any better. Mentioning it would just rile Daryl up, he was already being surprisingly good about how much Negan was mother henning him. 

Daryl closed his eyes when Negan took hold of his wrist, swallowing hard again from the pain even a little bit of movement must be causing him. Negan did what he could to be smooth and minimize both how much he had to move it and how long. 

“Better?” He asked once it was resting in the sling.

Daryl hummed, and there was confusion back in his eyes as he looked down and away for a second. Just the poppy milk. Give him time to heal.

They ate in silence. Daryl was only able to eat some of it, his hand trembling from exhaustion. Negan didn’t comment, taking it away when it looked like Daryl was gonna try and muscle his way through finishing it. “Go ahead and get under the covers. I’ll take these to the sink and be back. We’ll turn in early.”

He didn’t bother washing the dishes, deciding to deal with them in the morning when he figured out where he was gonna move their weapons to.

Daryl was lying on his side facing away when Negan got back up, turning off the light before undressing and padding to the bed in the dark. When he slid in, he tugged against Daryl, spooning him so he could feel his chest expand and his back press against his chest. Negan’s hand fell naturally to Daryl’s hip as he curled around him, meeting bare flesh.

He smiled into Daryl’s shoulder, knowing he’d feel the movement with the whiskers Negan really needed to trim. Kissing his husband’s shoulder, Negan felt himself relaxing around his warmth. “We’ll be back to normal in no time, don’t worry, Darlin’. It’s just a bump in the road.”

Chapter Text

Rick cursed from where he crouched surrounded by MRE’s and a pile of comic books. He had eaten one of the MRE packets. Why the hell couldn’t he fit the comics he found now? He didn’t expect to take them all, but he wanted to take some of them.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” Rick spat and dropped his bag and sat on his ass, giving up for a minute. Negan arched an eyebrow and Rick sighed, gesturing at the small pile of comics. “I wanted to take these back for RJ. I missed his entire fucking childhood and now I’m still not there, I need to bring him something.”

Negan sat on the bed beside him. “Go back.”

“No.”

“Yes. I can look for him on my own.”

“You can, doesn’t mean you should.” 

“You need to be with them.”

“No. I’m staying with you, prick ,” Rick spat using the same insult Negan liked to call him as a pet name. “I have to. I owe him everything. I wasn’t there for him either. He looked for me– he’s my brother, Negan. I’m not giving up now.”

“I’m not telling you to give up. I’m telling you to go back and be with your kids and run the town. Be domestic and shit.”

Rick sighed and shook his head. “ No .”

Negan eased down into a kneel, folding his legs beneath him until he was sitting back on his heels. He pulled everything out of Rick’s and his own bag to start again.

“You know that means we need to find something for Judith now?” Negan asked, lining the edges of the bag with the comics and started piling in the MREs.

Rick chuckled. “Yeah. I’ll keep an eye out. I need to find her something for her birthday too.”

“Daryl and I asked the guys in Haven to make a prosthetic that's shaped like a hand holding a pick.”

“You know she threw out her guitar when she got home?”

Negan hummed. “I saved it. It’s in our spare room. I thought– it might help her eventually.”

“Worth trying. She’s still having good days and bad days with it.”

“Did you?”

Rick could still feel the hand clenching and unclenching as though it was still there beneath the prosthetic. “Every day was a bad day, losing a hand wasn’t the bad part. Not escaping again was.” He moved his MRE pile closer to Negan as he filled his own bag and started on Rick’s.

“You’ve never blamed me,” Negan said after a while. “I thought– I don’t know. I thought you’d kill me for it.”

“You could have died saving her,” Rick reminded him, seeing Negan rub at his side where Rick knew there was a scar.

“I was the reason she was there.”

“And I was the reason she was beyond the walls at all. You were just trying to help her.”

“You should blame me. Michonne blames me,” Negan muttered, shoving another MRE into Rick’s bag.

“Yeah, well, you and Michonne haven’t really warmed up to each other.”

Negan looked away, jaw clenched, he was glaring at a spot on the wall. “Yeah. Well. She’s your wife. I’m not going to talk shit about her.”

Rick arched an eyebrow. “Which tells me there is shit to say.” At Negan’s look, Rick smiled gently. “Negan, we’re friends against all odds, I’ve forgiven you for everything that happened–”

“You have?” Negan gapped, unable to hide the rapid range of emotions that ran across his face.

“Yes.” Rick held his gaze for a few beats, making sure Negan knew he meant it. Tears sprung to Negan’s eyes and he looked away. Rick let him gather himself before continuing, “Given all that, I can forgive you for ‘talking shit’ about her.”

Negan scoffed and shook his head as he put Rick’s spare clothes at the top of his bag and finally said, “She was the one in charge while I was in that cell. Which means although Gabey was delivering them, she was the one to order me to get the barely edible scraps of food in the harder winters. She was the one that ‘forgot’ to give me enough blankets every fucking winter, until I had to beg for them or freeze to death. She was the one that didn’t care when I nearly lost my goddamn mind.”

Horror surged through him. Michonne said she hadn’t treated him as well as she should have, but he didn’t expect that.

“Judith was the one who brought me food and kept me from starving,” Negan continued, eyes searching his face, hopefully seeing that Rick had never intended that, “sneaking it through the window, shoving blankets through the bars. She brought me cheese when they finally got it right. Saved me a cookie whenever Carol visited with some. She’s the only reason I didn’t slit my own fucking wrists.” Negan closed the bag and stood abruptly, storming out of the room they had chosen for the night.

Rick sighed, hoisting the bag on his back, and followed Negan out.

“That’s why you saved Daryl, right? For her?”

Negan pulled the compass he always wore from beneath his shirt. “I saved Daryl because when I escaped I stole this from her and she caught me climbing over the wall. She let me go with the promise to find my own way and not hurt anyone. I saved Daryl because he’s the strongest man I’ve ever fucking met and seeing him so goddamn weak was wrong. I saved him because I’m not a piece of shit. I’m a man just trying to survive and help people. He’s the only one to ever see that.”

“I see it now too.” Rick put his hand on his shoulder.

Negan leaned into the touch. Rick pulled him and Negan went, falling into his arms as the two embraced for the first time.

“We’ll find him,” Rick promised.

His heart was pounding against his ribs. All he could hear was gunfire and screaming.

Daryl fired his gun, but it clicked. Empty. He darted forward and grabbed another machine gun from a dead Savior.

He killed a Savior and ducked for cover in time to see a woman with strange hair leading a bleeding and limping Rick across the main road, forcing him to kneel beside Carl. Negan paced around them, Lucillie was hanging from his gloved hand. Daryl couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Daryl glanced around, but nobody could see him from where he was hiding.

He could fire his gun, but there were too many enemies. They were outnumbered by so many. Everyone he cared about was forced to kneel.

Again.

Before he could decide to shoot or not, Negan stood suddenly, pulling the hat off Carl’s head, and swung–

Daryl sat up, reaching for a weapon, ready to fight and die for the boy he loved like his own.

Until he remembered what happened, and where he was. He gave in. He knelt. Too late to save Carl, but he saved Judith.

“Hey, whoa, breathe. You’re okay,” Negan’s voice drifted through the ringing in his ears. Negan, who killed Carl the same way he killed Abraham and Glenn.

Daryl knew without a doubt that it wasn’t just a dream. He was remembering Carl’s death. And Carl knew he was going to die, going by the letter. Daryl could have stopped it.

Tears sprung to his eyes, but he laid back down, turning his back to Negan. “Jus’ a dream,” he muttered and squeezed his eyes shut. Negan was quiet for a moment before the bed shifted, and Negan laid back down beside him.

Neither man slept after that.

As he laid next to Daryl in the dark Negan’s head spun with ideas, mentally running over every second of the day. Could he have helped Daryl more? How can he make it better tomorrow?

Little warning signs all became obvious as he stayed there. All the subtle things that built up to the panic attack and flashback. Izzy touching Daryl’s hair. The massage seemed to have eventually relaxed him but maybe Negan had been too focused on making him feel better he had missed the stress touching his feet caused. Sometimes Daryl still had a hard time with it and on his belly, he couldn’t look at Negan massaging them.

The chaos of the kids bursting in. How they chattered at a shaky and confused Daryl who kept looking to him, asking for help . Negan was used to the kids but Daryl usually needed a little bit of time after returning from a normal trip. After what happened no wonder he needed more time to adjust. He should have insisted the kids leave. But Daryl had looked at him defensively, aware how much the kids missed him and wanted them to stay.

Negan climbed out of bed with the sunrise. Daryl tensed as he got up, ready to join him for the day but Negan knew he hadn’t slept much after his nightmare. Another common occurrence after a flashback if they didn’t fuck themselves into exhaustion.

“Stay, Darlin’. You need your rest.”

He spent the next half an hour gathering up all their weapons – Christ they had a lot that should probably be in the community armory. But he couldn't take them away from Daryl completely, Daryl knew what knife was his as opposed to some random piece of metal. Some had been gifts.

As he packed them up his ghosts tried to distract him, reminding him of everything he had done wrong. He ignored them, touching the edge of a blade every time they got too loud.

He put all the weapons in two duffle bags and carried them to the Grimes house. The sun beat down on him, the weather spiking all of a sudden making him miss AC. He reached the house and knocked quietly.

Rick answered after a few moments, eyebrows raising as he eyed the duffle bags Negan held. “Is this you asking to move in? We've still got the attic room, but I'm not sure how Daryl will feel about that.”

Negan could only stare, mouth open, his opening sentence forgotten. “I’m not sure how Michonne’ll feel about that.”

“She’ll understand.” Negan shook his head and shifted one of the bags, the metal inside clanging, making Rick arch an eyebrow.

“RJ told me what happened. Wanna come in?” He held out his hand and took one of the bags from him in time for Dog to come running as fast as his old bones would let him.

Negan crouched to greet him, chuckling at the wet tongue that lapped across his cheek. “Yeah, yeah. You can come say hi to Daryl soon, I promise.”

Judith appeared at the top of the stairs. “Is Daryl okay?” She asked as she limped down them. With the weather, she had opted for shorts but it put her leg on display, Negan could only grin at her confidence.

“He's fine. Is RJ awake?”

“Yeah,” the boy answered from the kitchen table, leaning forward so Negan could see him around Rick's torso. Michonne sat opposite RJ, staring at Negan with that same hard expression neither friendly nor antagonistic.

“Great. Both of you come here a sec.”

He put the other bag down by the front door and moved to sit on the couch. Both kids came to his side, their parents standing in the doorway, watching them curiously. Dog laid by the fireplace with a tired sigh.

“I need you to promise me something. You won't go see Daryl without me or your parents there.”

“He wouldn't hurt us!” Judith argued immediately.

“Not when he's in the right mind, no. But yesterday…” Negan swallowed and glanced up at Rick and Michonne watching them, then back to the two kids. “Do you know what PTSD is?”

Judith nodded but RJ shook his head.

“Post traumatic stress disorder.” Negan pulled his teaching voice out, giving himself some distance from the subject and the reality of what happened to his husband. The kids responded as well, straightening like they were in class. “When someone goes through something traumatic, it can affect them. One of the things it can cause are flashbacks, during these flashbacks sometimes they forget where they really are or who’s around them.”

“Dad talked to me about it.” Judith shifted her prosthetic leg and another wave of guilt slammed through him. He could still hear her screams, and feel the ice cold rain, hear the thunder. Warm blood dripping through his fingers. Chest tight as he focused on swinging the axe through the skin, muscle, and cartilage. His stomach turned and he took a moment before he could reply.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Daryl… he's been through more than one traumatic event and he gets these flashbacks sometimes, he reacts before he can think. We deal with them together. But he's never reacted like that, with anyone else. He doesn't want to hurt you but he might not realize what he's doing until it's too late. So you can't visit him alone. Please .”

“Okay,” Judith promised and he hoped she meant it.

RJ seemed to be thinking the same as he studied his sister, unsure, before he nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Thank you. Go on, I need to talk to your parents now.”

Once they were back in the kitchen Rick closed the living room door to stop nosey ears. “Daryl gets PTSD flashbacks?” He hissed. “He's never said.” You’ve never said, also echoed between them.

“Yeah. He doesn't like to talk about it.” They had talked about so many things, but the flashbacks just didn’t seem relevant. One more thing he shouldn’t be sharing with Rick compared with everything he did share.

“No, really? Daryl, not wanting to talk about something? I'm shocked,” Michonne muttered sarcastically.

Negan tried to smile at her joke. “We've been dealing with it. He was healing but I've never seen him like yesterday. Pointing the crossbow at Judith–” he shook his head.

Rick and Michonne straightened. “They didn't tell us that .”

Negan winced. Of course they didn't. Fucking loyal kids.

“Judith was upset,” Michonne spoke up. “She said Daryl was acting strange.”

Negan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “He barely seemed to notice she’s walking. Just said ‘that’s real good’. Like it’s normal.”

“Jesus,” Rick muttered. “She was so excited for him to see.”

“I think Daryl was having a flashback. I can usually tell but I missed the signs. Judith touched him and he grabbed the crossbow and pointed it at her. It was unloaded but…”

“If it wasn't,” Rick finished tightly.

“I would have taken the bolt for her,” Negan promised and he knew Rick believed him. “But for now, I brought most of the weapons we have in the house, if you can keep them here for now?”

Rick eyes the two large bags. “Are you preparing for the apocalypse?”

“Funny,” Negan said deadpan.

“I'm leaving you because of that joke,” Michonne threatened, making Rick pout. “Yes, Negan. We can keep them here. We'll keep them together,” she promised him. “His crossbow?”

“Keeping it at home unloaded. We can't be completely unarmed just in case. And I can't take his crossbow away from him.” Negan ran a hand down his face. “Thank you.”

“What do you need?” Rick asked.

“What?”

“What do you need? For him? To help.”

Negan shook his head. “Time to go faster. Him to heal and talk to me. It's only been two days but… I've never seen him this bad. Even after the hotel, he was him . But now he's–” scared . Negan realized it abruptly and cut himself off. Daryl had been scared at the tavern, but Negan knew why then, he didn't now.

“What, Negan?” Michonne prompted.

“It's only been a few days and he's on poppy milk. It's fine. Judith has her PT session this morning, right?”

Michonne wrinkled her nose but nodded.

Negan opened the living room door and arched an eyebrow at the girl attempting to climb the stairs. She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Sure you weren’t. PT?”

“You’re still coming?”

“Of course. Every single one.”

She beamed. “It’s been moved here rather than the infirmary, Zoe should be here any minute.”

With Negan gone for a while, Daryl used the opportunity to get dressed, taking his time and fighting not to look at his crossbow on the dressing table. It was everywhere he looked though, reflected in the large mirror on the opposite side of the room as though Negan had placed it in a place of honor. A reminder of his latest fuckup. A pit was forming in his stomach that maybe Negan was saving all the punishments up.

Without the poppy milk, every ache and pain was present but his mind was free. Pain was an old friend, it wasn't too distracting. It let him think and categorize everything.

He had knelt. He was Negan. But this wasn't new, nobody was surprised.

Judith was around fifteen with a younger brother who was maybe twelve or so. Which meant it's been at least fourteen years since they met Negan, if he guessed their ages right.

The only person from his family he knew was alive was Rick. But the only one he knew for sure was dead was Carl. Carol , he refused to think about until he was sure.

And he was going to have to let Negan fuck him soon.

Back before the Fall, he'd let other men fuck him for less. A bed to sleep in, a meal to eat. But he usually got very drunk and at least had a choice . Who got to fuck him and how. Letting Negan do it for his family to stay safe and fed was worth everything. But he couldn't help the way his hands shook and ass clenched at the thought.

He had heard Negan collecting all the weapons, but Negan didn't know about the knife on the back of Daryl’s nightstand. Not that Daryl could use it now, but he wasn't going to give it up.

A contingency plan. A sacrifice if he ever needed to prove to Negan he was going to be obedient.

Once dressed, he took a deep breath and opened the drawer on Negan's nightstand again to study the objects inside. He needed to prepare himself.

There was a tub of something pale green, he opened it and touched the slick gel. He hated how grateful he was over a tub of lube.

There was pink silk rope. Sorry Darlin', I could only find pink. Negan's voice echoed in his mind.

The pair of handcuffs left him with a strange sense of irritation. “ Seriously? Never been in handcuffs?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A cock ring, nipple clamps, a gag, and a dildo.

He didn't dare look at the pictures. Wasn't ready to study them to figure out what Negan liked to do to him. How he needed to prepare. The memory of what he’d glanced at was enough to turn his stomach, but he would look at them eventually. Better to know than to fight it.

Instead, he went into the bathroom, to wash quickly before Negan got back. The man in the mirror, with his long hair and scars, still felt like a stranger more than his own face. It was awkward to wash with his bandages but he managed it in time, just as the front door opened. Hearing Negan coming in Daryl finished getting dressed and stumbled to the hallway and stairs.

Behave. Obey. Kneel .

Daryl was a teenager in his dad's house again, unable to fight back even if he was physically capable.

He started downstairs and wondered if he was supposed to kneel or do anything in the mornings. He hadn't the day before and decided not to unless Negan gave him a reminder.

Whatever form that reminder came in.

“Hey, Darlin'. How are you feeling?” Negan greeted with a strange cheerful tone that felt forced.

“M’alright,” he mumbled.

“Sit. Sorry I’m late, I went to Judith’s PT and visited Kid’s House, Cora’s exhausted but she’s in her third trimester so it’s expected. I'll make breakfast. You need your poppy milk, it's gotta hurt by now.”

Kid’s house?

Daryl shrugged. Speak when you're spoken to. One rule he knew and could follow. “Not too bad.”

Negan smiled fondly at him. “Sure, tough guy. Just because I was practically begging for it after the sinkhole. Though, I guess you're used to pain more than me.” He opened the fridge, opting to reheat Judith and RJ’s leftovers for them.

Daryl glanced at the poppy milk and antibiotic as Negan put them in front of him. He drank the antibiotic but when Negan excused himself to use the bathroom, Daryl poured the poppy milk down the sink, irritated he couldn't save it for anyone that might need it more. He needed his mind as clear as possible to learn and absorb the rules. He could deal with the pain.

Unfortunately, Negan didn't leave the house again throughout the day. He spent it making sure Daryl was resting, eating, and just talking to him about plans for the town. Daryl memorized every name he spoke, and when Michonne was mentioned, his shoulders dropped an inch. One more member of his family was still alive.

Without the poppy milk, every ache in his body was prominent and loud, his feet and his abdomen worst of all. But pain was something he knew how to push into the back of his mind and continue, it was just hard to concentrate with it.

He had no way of avoiding his dinner time poppy milk with Negan watching him so he had to drink it, but it relaxed his aches and dulled his mind enough that it helped him strip and climb into bed with Negan. His stomach a pit as he wondered when Negan’s hand would drift from his hip, its soft weight turning bruising as he finally took what he wanted from Daryl.

The next day, while Negan was out visiting Kid’s House again, Daryl couldn’t sleep despite the morning poppy milk he had to drink, making his head spin. He decided to spend his morning downstairs, hating how he kept getting glimpses of himself in their large mirror and it startled him every time.

He wanted nothing more than to explore the town but wondered if that would get him or someone else killed.

Instead, he chose a book from the bookcase and sat on the couch to read, trying to take his mind off everything for a while.

Negan sat on the couch beside him and leaned over his shoulder. “What’cha reading?”

“Clover Fields call ‘em… Zombies, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Musta got it from this book. Someone had the idea of the dead rising and endin’ the world before all of this happened,” Daryl told him. “Called ‘em zombies.”

“It’s a strange word. Sounds more like a sneeze.”

Daryl chuckled. “Heard some weirdass names but usually make some kinda sense. Geeks was one that made no sense.”

“Geeks?”

“Yeah, called ‘em that at the start, the first group before Rick joined us. I think it was to not scare the kids, but we caught onto Rick sayin’ walker pretty quick.”

Daryl shook away the memory — it seemed too casual for that. Instead, he stared down at the book, World War Z.

He was a few chapters in, enjoying the book when a knock sounded right before the door opened. Someone to check on him?

Daryl glanced up, tensing despite the protest of his incision, wondering what Savior would come through. He hadn’t seen Dwight around yet. 

The relief at seeing Rosita and Eugene was like a weight off his shoulders. Eugene’s mullet was longer, tied into a braid and hanging down his back. Rosita looked the same as ever, but he could see the age lines on both of them. More than fourteen years of hard living.

“Uncle Daryl!” A young girl shouted, pushing past the two adults.

“Slow your roll, little Coco-Powder,” Eugene said, taking hold of the girl's shoulders and stopping her in the middle of a run. “Daryl had a trying time recently. We gotta treat him gently, or Negan will blow his top sure as Old Faithful.” Eugene looked over Daryl, both adults wearing matching frowns.

Daryl felt under a microscope and dirty, a leper that would infect others. A danger, if being around him also put others into the sphere of Negan’s attention. He closed his book and sat up, fighting to keep the pain from his face.

“Coco, be gentle,” Rosita warned and translated Eugene in one breath for the frowning girl. “Uncle Daryl’s fine. She’s been throwing herself at people like she’s trying to knock them down.”

Despite Rosita’s assurances, Eugene still looked skeptical. “No offense to my muscled compatriot, but you’re sporting more bandages than a pharaoh.”

“Go on. Be gentle,” Rosita reminded Coco. The girl moved almost amusingly slow as she walked towards him. Rosita chuckled and walked around her as Eugene closed the door. But what caught Daryl’s eye was the wrap around Rosita’s torso and the tiny hand poking out from under it.

“We named him Lázaro,” Rosita said, moving the wrap down so Daryl could see the sleeping face of the baby. “He came a bit early after Negan and Rick went to look for you, but perfectly healthy. Want a cuddle?”

Daryl swallowed and started to nod. Rosita had a baby. Two kids . But then he looked down at his broken arm and shook his head. “I uh–” He gestured to his arm. “Don’t wanna disturb ‘im.”

Rosita smiled, understanding. “I’m sure you’ll get a cuddle when Negan has him.”

Daryl’s stomach dropped.

“Gabe wanted to visit but with the stairs– y’know,” Rosita continued, unaware of Daryl’s internal panic, Negan would take him from her? He was too little to be away from his mother. What did Daryl need to do to protect the baby? “Come over when Negan lets you out again?”

Out. He would be let out. Eventually.

As long as he didn’t have another break like the day before and threaten Negan again. His crossbow wasn’t loaded yesterday. If it was, maybe things would be different. Better or worse?

He needed more information.

“Sure,” he croaked as Coco got bored of going slow and darted the last few yards, climbing on the couch beside him. He eyed her dark skin; she couldn’t be Eugene’s, despite the way he was hovering around her like a parent.

“Mama said you were hurt. Are you all better now?”

“I’m healin’.”

“Can I kiss your boo boo better? Papa says that fixes everything! ‘Cept his legs.”

“While some creatures do in fact have saliva that can assist in healing, the antibacterial properties found in bees for example, humans are borderline venomous with all the bacteria in our mouths. I do not think that is in your, or anyone’s, best interest.”

Coco frowned at Eugene. “Papa says it fixes everything .”

“I think we’ll be here all day if you’re kissing all his boo boos better, Coco,” Rosita said side-eyeing Eugene. “We just came to check up on you before dropping this one at her classes. Do you know when Negan will be teaching again?”

He couldn’t keep the frown off his face. Negan teaching ?

What the fuck.

“Uh– No.”

“Mind finding out for us? Coco’s been asking.”

“Yeah. I will,” he promised, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. Maybe that was part of his role, the go-between for Alexandria to Negan.

Rosita shared a look with Eugene before putting a hand on Coco’s shoulder. “Sorry we can’t stay. But I’ll come by again. Lázaro wants a cuddle with his Uncle Daryl too.” She gently stroked the hand he could see.

“As difficult as kicking back and taking some much needed R&R is for you. It will in fact get you up and going faster, scouts honor. We’d all very much appreciate it if things could be back to normal sooner than later. Your husband has been less than delightful since you went MIA,” Eugene informed him, Rosita elbowed him and he looked at her with raised eyebrows before turning back to Daryl. “We also want you feelin’ better for your own sake as well, of course.”

Rosita rolled her eyes, like she was sharing a joke with Daryl about Eugene’s bluntness. They both gathered Coco and waved as they left him to rest and heal.

Negan came back after just an hour, smelling of cigarette smoke and making Daryl's mouth water. Christ, he'd kill for a cigarette.

Preferably kill Negan for it. He smirked at the thought; an arrow through the eye would be perfect and poetic. But he wasn't going to do it.

He knelt for the kids. For Judith.

“Hey, you're awake,” Negan said in greeting. “It’s getting hot as shit outside. Hell, it’s hot as shit in here.”

Daryl hummed. “Rosita ‘n Eugene came by.” He studied Negan as he spoke in case he was saying something wrong, but Negan didn't show anything other than idle curiosity. “Wondered… when you'd be teaching again?”

Negan blinked and smiled. “I was actually thinking about asking you. I'll be gone most of the day. But I can do most of the paperwork here rather than my office, though.”

Gone most of the day.

“Yeah. If you wanna. I'll be fi– okay.”

Negan grinned, pleased at his catch when he remembered the ‘fine’ rule, and leaned in to kiss him. “Great. I’ll need to freshen up on my lesson plans. I haven't looked at them since you went missing. I'll make us some lunch then take a look.” He paused and picked up the book Daryl left on the couch. “Reading this again?”

Daryl fought to keep his features neutral and shrugged. “Easy reading.”

Negan pursed his lips. “I guess so.” He leaned down to kiss him again before going to the kitchen.

Daryl practically passed out after lunch, his body exhausted and aching. He woke up with movement and footsteps in the room.

“Sorry, Darlin’,” Negan’s voice whispered, pulling Daryl into full consciousness. He automatically glanced at his bedside table, he couldn’t see the knife but nothing had moved, it was still there. “I needed to wash up and you need your antibiotic,” Negan continued as an explanation.

Daryl hummed and sat up in bed as Negan came to his side and handed him the two cups. He was watching him so Daryl had to drink both. Then Negan kissed him.

Daryl hated how his body reacted to Negan, leaning into the kiss, his hands automatically finding purchase on Negan’s waist.

Negan deepened the kiss, and Daryl fought the panic when Negan's hand went to Daryl's chest, clutching at him before he pulled back, resting his forehead against Daryl’s. “We can’t have sex for a while, gymnastics will be hard, but when you’re healed, I’ll pound you into the fucking mattress, I promise. But we both need to wash up. I gave you a sponge bath in the infirmary,” Daryl held back a shudder, what else had Negan done to him while unconscious? “but I need a shower. And I’m sure you do.”

Ice ran through Daryl’s veins.

It was just a shower. He could do that, Negan had just said no sex. “My bandages,” he blurted. An out? But Negan just smiled.

“Don't worry, we can work around them.”

Daryl reminded himself he had stood naked while Saviors hosed him down. He could deal with this.

“A’right,” he mumbled. Negan beamed and held out his hand. Daryl took it, his skin tingling.

Negan helped him to stand and immediately went for the buttons of Daryl’s shirt, catching his lips again. Licking into his mouth as he slipped the shirt off his shoulders. He released Daryl's mouth to slip the shirt around his cast. Then went for his pants until Daryl stood naked in front of him. Negan’s eyes roamed over his body hungrily before removing his own clothes as he walked backward toward the bathroom.

Daryl followed slower, resisting the urge to hug his arms to himself or cover his dick, even as it tried to react to Negan’s stare.

“Wait.” Still naked, Negan left the room, coming back a minute later with a stool from the kitchen. He took it into the bathroom, placing it in the middle of the tub. “Sit,” Negan ordered.

His body trembling, Daryl climbed into the tub, another in his mind, one covered with mold and blood. One that sent his body trembling even further and he could feel every wound, his feet aching more than ever.

He sat on the stool and Negan gently took his injured arm and started wrapping it in plastic wrap. “Familiar, huh?” Negan asked, chuckling. He put Daryl's arm to rest on the edge of the tub. “Keep it out here if that doesn’t hurt?”

Daryl grunted his acknowledgment. Was this like the foot massage? A way to make himself feel better about the abuse?

What abuse ? A small voice whispered. Negan hadn’t hurt him since he woke up. Not even when he pointed the crossbow at him. He’d expected Negan to punish him when he asked for his arm, but instead he just gently put his arm back in its sling. Obviously taking great care not to hurt him.

Negan then pulled the showerhead off the wall and switched it on. The sound of water running a background buzz to his turbulent thoughts. He bit his lip as Negan moved behind him and sprayed the water around his back and his shoulders, being careful of the bandages on his arm and torso. It was cool at first but was quickly warming up.

Negan pressed his hand flat against Daryl's back on his left side, Negan's breathing slow and even. 

Daryl stayed still, breathing in the steam, goosebumps pricking at his skin. Negan leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “Your heartbeat,” he whispered as though it was an explanation. “You know, I'll always find you. No matter how far you are, how long you've been gone, I'll find you.”

Maggie, I'll find you.

Daryl's stomach twisted, bile rose, and he fought it down with a strength of will he didn’t know he possessed. Each word hammered another nail into his coffin. A reminder to him that there's no point in running.

How often had he tried?

Unaware of Daryl’s internal struggles, Negan took a sponge and gently ran it down his back. Daryl tried to focus on that, not on the words bouncing around his skull, the taste of blood in his mouth.

In some spots, he could barely feel the sponge. He could feel pressure or a tingling, but not the sponge itself. Nerve damage he guessed from the scars he had seen. Lips pressed against the spaces that had more feeling, finding the right spots without any searching. Negan ran the sponge along his arm, stopping before the bandage and back up.

And then Negan moved to his front and ran the sponge along his chest, under his neck, and slid to his knees, the showerhead still running but forgotten at his feet.

Negan pushed his knees further apart, a bit awkward in the tub but he made it work. Daryl could only stare down at him in horror as Negan licked at the semi-hard cock that he had been desperately trying to ignore, sending sparks of pleasure through him. Daryl gasped, then bit his lip to keep from making any more noise. Not wanting to encourage Negan to go further or do more. A stab of stupid betrayal went through him, Negan had said no sex. He wanted to tell him to stop, but how could he? His own body betrayed him and encouraged Negan. Hardening under his attention.

Negan sent Daryl a devilish grin. “I know, I’m waiting until you’ve healed some more, Darlin’. But you don’t have to do a thing.”

Negan ducked his head again and took the sensitive tip into his mouth. Wet hotness engulfed him and Daryl couldn't breathe. This wasn't right but his body reacted, his cock grew in Negan's mouth. His hand went for Negan's hair, just keeping enough state of mind to keep his broken arm still outside the tub. He wanted to push him away, as good as this felt, it wasn’t right. As his grip tightened in the short strands Negan moaned around his cock and tilted his head away, increasing the pull. A small circular silvery scar on his left shoulder caught Daryl’s eyes for a moment, the tilt of Negan’s head highlighting it, before he got distracted.

Negan's tongue pressed into the base while his head bobbed. A warm hand tugged at his balls. Daryl bit his lip to keep from shouting. It was too much, the pressure built and Negan swallowed him all the way, his nose pressed against Daryl's stomach and he exploded, coming onto the warm wet heat that surrounded him.

Negan swallowed every drop, pulled back with a pop, and grinned at Daryl. “Better?”

Daryl grunted, his mouth dry, afraid if he opened it he would throw up. Could he reciprocate? A blow job for some cash was something he was familiar with a very long time ago, but some stranger in the bathroom of a bar. Not a man that he hated.

Negan decided for him by sitting up enough so he could lean in and kiss him, hard. Daryl tasted his own salty cum on Negan's tongue. His arm was moving against Daryl's leg and he realized he was stroking himself. Daryl ignored his twisting stomach and kissed him back, his free hand returning to Negan's head. Better than a blowjob at least, even if it made him itch, made his skin feel wrong and dirty despite still sitting in the clean shower.

Streams of hot cum landed on Daryl's leg, scalding him even through the heat of the warm shower, as Negan came with a surprisingly quiet gasp, leaning his head against Daryl's forehead. Negan ran a finger through the cum and Daryl felt marked, he wondered if Negan was writing his name on Daryl's leg.

Then he saw something he’d avoided thinking about since the day he knelt. A black tattoo of a bite mark on his right inner thigh.

When he saw it for the first time, as Negan had him strip for the massage, he’d remembered in a flash a thousand times Negan licked, nibbled, or bit at it. Like he was being eaten alive. The worst part was that his dick had immediately jumped in interest. He’d rushed to lay down and hide it to avoid encouraging Negan, but the sight of the mark again made him wonder how much of his body he’d lost to Negan’s ownership. Did he have Negan’s name written on his back like a tramp stamp? Or were the scars enough for him?

His heart was pounding, it was going to crash through his chest. His skin was sticky and dirty and he needed to stay under the spray of water.

Negan finally moved back, unaware of Daryl's internal panic.

“I love you,” Negan whispered looking intently into Daryl's eyes, and then sat back and grabbed the soap again, cleaning the cum off Daryl and resuming washing himself.

Daryl gripped the side of the bath so tightly his hand was beginning to ache as he tried to say the words, but if he opened his mouth there was a chance he might be sick.

He wasn’t ready for this yet.

Negan touching him.

Negan making him feel good.

It was wrong.

The second he was alone, Daryl climbed back into the shower and sat on the still wet chair. He turned the heat up and up. He couldn’t wash all of himself, the bandages would tell Negan of his transgressions. So he left his torso alone, despite how his skin crawled with the feeling of filth. He grabbed a washcloth, too soft for what he wanted — sandpaper would be too soft — and scrubbed at his legs, at the bite mark tattoo , at his cock trying not to think about how good Negan’s lips felt around him. Or of how hot his cum was splashing against his leg.

Daryl stared at the blood that ran down his thigh, running a finger through it wondering if it was enough he would bleed out this time as the blood dripped onto the dirty porcelain tub, flowing towards the drain.

If the drain was blocked, maybe he could drown in his own blood.

Everything hurt. His back was pulsing with a familiar agony.

There was no way out. He knew that. The only way out was death.

Daryl couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of the tub. He had to move. Daryl climbed shakily out, falling as he went. He tried to catch himself with his good arm - cursing as it still ached from the movement. It wasn’t enough and he landed on the broken one. Daryl clenched his jaw to keep from crying out.

He rolled over and sat up, gasping for breath.

He could smell the blood, the mold.

His body wouldn’t stop trembling.

What the hell did Negan do to him?

Chapter Text

Rick should have known there was going to be trouble when Moonshine refused to go across the bridge. They had already crossed the old chunk of 95 when going to Woodbridge, but last night they spotted a pillar of smoke that could be a campfire on the other side of the river and were backtracking this morning to check it out.

Neither of them thought Daryl would be at the camp, but they both hoped whomever they ran into would have more information on the area. Maybe they’d seen someone.

Moonshine balked at crossing the bridge. She’d been ornery in general this morning so Negan got off her to lead her across. There was a section that still had a few rusting cars. It was a tight squeeze anyway, so Rick got off Chief to lead him as well.

There was no warning. No slow-growing cracks.

One minute there was a bridge under his feet and the next he was being jerked to a stop by the hold he had on Chief’s reins as he dangled thirty feet above a swollen river. Chief screamed, but Rick didn’t have the breath to. Unable to grab onto anything with his prosthetic he dangled for a moment.

“Rick!” Negan’s voice was close and all Rick could see was Chief’s panicked eyes as his reins jerked and the horse tried to back up.

The metal clasp broke and Rick fell right as Negan’s face appeared over the edge, hands reaching feet above where they needed to be.

I hate bridges. Was Rick’s last thought before he slammed into the water and the world went black.

His chest hurt and he was throwing up water and breakfast. Coughing as though his lungs were going to fall out. Blows rained down on his back, each forcing more water out of his lungs. 

The blows stopped and over his coughing he heard the growl of a walker. Rick looked up to see Negan, soaking wet, dispatching a walker with a rock. Aware of the danger, Rick looked around and noticed the bridge was in the distance, their horses nowhere to be seen.

“Gotta get you warmed up,” Negan muttered as he looked around. Rick noticed his hands were shaking and it suddenly hit him.

Negan had jumped off of a bridge to get him. They were a distance downriver. He’d swum with Rick, dragged him to shore, then performed CPR. Another round of coughing racked him as Negan came over to pound his back some more.

“CPR has a less than ten percent survival rate,” Rick coughed out at Negan, who smiled tightly at him.

“Drowning has worse odds, but sounds like you’re still all there Prick.” Negan went back to collecting leaves and branches, intent on making a fire. 

The cold air was causing them both to shiver despite the morning sun.

Rick got up and helped him. Once the fire was running they both stripped to their boxers, needing to get their clothes dried out. Rick’s eyes were drawn to the scar on his chest, where he knew a section of his rib was missing.

“Bags are still with the horses, so at least everything else will be dry once we find them,” Negan commented, arching an eyebrow at Rick when he pulled his eyes up to his face.

“You jumped off a bridge.” 

I was too slow. I jumped, but I didn’t get down in time.

“Well, all the cool kids were doing it,” Negan snarked.

“You jumped off a bridge and then swam to get me,” Rick pressed.

“I’m a good swimmer, which is why I’m in charge of teaching the kids. ‘Sides I can’t have Daryl spending another five years haunting a fucking river for you,” Negan tried to deflect again, standing and checking on their clothes.

“Negan?” Rick tried again. Negan looked over at him and something about the small pale scar on his neck, where Rick had cut it, caught his eye. “Thank you.”

Izzy came by every day and four days in, she took the bandage off his hand, letting them examine the wound beneath. See the old scar where his pinky finger should be and the closed healing wound where his ring finger used to be. Izzy had taken out the stitches days ago but she had to leave the ones in his side for a bit longer.  His cast still surrounded his forearm, wrapped around his thumb to keep it in place.

Every stitch removed and bandage discarded felt like a ticking of a bomb. Which piece would finally signal to Negan he was healed enough?

“Oh! Jerry found this for you,” Negan announced, taking a chain from his pocket and laying it over his knee so he could remove the compass from his neck, and Daryl’s ring from his own chain and put it onto Daryl's.

“Turn around, Darlin’.”

Negan's hand brushed along the back of his night to move his hair away, making a shiver run down his spine. He hadn’t tried anything sexual since the blow job, but Daryl was mentally preparing himself, it was horrifyingly easy to think about Negan atop him. He could smell leather and book-like scent that seemed to encompass Negan, he could feel the cold metal compass Negan so rarely took off against his own spine.

“Does it tickle?” Negan asked quietly, pulling Daryl from his thoughts as he slipped the chain around his neck.

Daryl hummed and felt Negan fiddling with the clasp until he was secure.

Negan shifted making the bed dip, then warm lips and a scratchy beard touched the back of Daryl’s neck making him shiver again. “Does that?”

“Yeah,” Daryl gasped out, clenching his fists to keep from pulling away from his touch.

Or moving closer.

Negan gently nudged his shoulder. Daryl steeled himself before he turned around, Negan’s eyes locked on the ring nestled against his chest. “Now everyone can see you're mine again,” Negan murmured, reaching out to touch the ring between his thumb and middle finger and another shiver ran down his spine. Negan’s . “As if they don't already know.”

The next few days passed slowly, before he knew it he had been trapped in this strange domesticity with Negan for over a week. Every day various people came by as though to check on him. Michonne was the only other person he remembered, he nearly cried with relief when he saw her smiling face opening the front door. A few kids came but mostly to talk to Negan, and he was still there most of the time, trying to engage Daryl in conversation.

Finally, he went to teach a couple of classes after making sure Daryl drank his antibiotic and poppy milk.

Daryl sat down to read, feeling like he should be doing something but not knowing what.

Rick appeared barely ten minutes after Negan had left, and when he said, “I'm breaking you out,” with a wide grin, Daryl nearly broke down with relief. He sat up, pressing a hand into his side trying to hide his wince. He could be strong enough to escape.

Rick had just been waiting for the right moment. He would never leave him in a life like this. Maybe they had a plan, he was supposed to understand some code he missed.

“How?” Daryl asked, putting his book aside. He glanced at the door, he hadn’t even tried to open it, if he tried it and it was locked there was a possibility he would panic. If he didn’t, he was fine. “I don’t–”

“Out the door,” Rick interrupted. “Just for a walk around the block.”

Daryl’s shoulders dropped. Idiot . Of course, Rick wouldn't risk his kids and Daryl was wrong to expect him to.

“I’d be losing my mind locked up twenty-four-seven like this.” Rick continued, unaware of Daryl's internal dread. Rick tilted his head. “I nearly did when the CRM locked me up once. I know you need to heal, but if you can walk around the house, you can walk around the block. C’mon.”

“What if he comes to check on me?”

“I’m your babysitter today,” Rick said smoothly. “Seriously, fresh air will do you good.”

Daryl hesitated for another beat before picking up the boots that were left by the front door, hoping they were his.

He bent to put them on, but the movement pulled at his side. The pain made him try, and fail, to hide his wince.

“Here.” Rick knelt in front of him and for the first time since waking up, his cock twitched and he didn’t feel dirty. But Rick wasn't interested in him outside of family, Rick was married to Michonne. And Daryl was married to Negan , who was definitely the jealous type. The smell of Mark’s burned face was still fresh in his mind from a couple of days years ago.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Rick just smiled at him as he finished lacing his boots and stood. “C’mon.”

Rick opened the door for them and Daryl paused in the threshold, taking in a deep breath of the warm air. Negan had been complaining about the heat but inside it wasn’t too bad, being used to Georgia heat, but outside with the sun beating down on him, he could feel it.

He breathed deeply and looked around the town busier than the last time he had seen it.

It was bustling, full of people, and so much bigger than it used to be. Without the confusion of just waking up, he realized the houses were where the long grass had been and the walls there had been expanded further out.

Negan did this.

Rick reached the bottom of the stairs, then looked back at him and jogged back, his human hand extended towards him. “Need help?”

“I got it,” he muttered, ignoring the hand to limp down the stairs himself.

“Daryl!” A cheerful voice shouted and a young woman with dark hair and a wide grin came jogging towards them. “I didn’t think I’d see you outside for a while. Sorry I haven’t come to visit, the schedule hasn’t permitted me yet.”

“Princess,” Rick hissed, adding something Daryl didn’t hear.

“Schedule?” He asked tightly.

Rick winced. “Negan didn’t wanna overwhelm you, that’s all,” he explained. “If everyone that wanted to visit did, your house would be bursting.”

“Maggie did send word from the Hilltop, she will visit as soon as she can,” Princess added, she kept speaking but her words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

Maggie.

“Do you care to pay your respects?” Gabriel asked, making Negan jump and spin around to him.

“Holy crap. You are creepy as shit sneaking up on me, wearing that collar with that freaky ass smile.”

“My apologies. I’m Father Gabriel.”

“She didn’t make it?” Negan asked. It was all Daryl could do to keep from falling over. Maggie was dead. Glenn was dead and it killed Maggie and the baby.

His fault.

“Daryl?” A hand touched his shoulder and it was all he could do to not react.

“I’m fi– okay,” he snapped. He wasn’t in the house. It was Rick. He could say fine damnit.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to say fine?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“S’a rule,” Daryl muttered, focusing on Rick’s hand still on his shoulder. Rick. His best friend. His lifeline. He glanced up but the other woman had left. “Maggie– Maggie is at the Hilltop?” he asked Rick, knowing he probably should know the answer but he needed it confirmed. He needed to know she was alive.

“Yeah?” Rick answered, frowning slightly.

An image flashed into his mind, Negan pressing Maggie into the railing at Sanctuary, holding a knife to her neck. If she was at Hilltop, she had to be safer. He could only hope it stayed that way if he had something to do with it.

“She’ll visit as soon as she can,” Rick continued. “Judith misses Hershel as well.”

A fresh pang of pain hit him, but Rick couldn’t mean Maggie's father. The man he remembered dying not long ago fourteen years ago. He was dead which meant–

The baby .

He didn’t want either of them anywhere near Negan. “They don’t gotta. M’fine.” Fine .

“I thought you can’t say fine?” Rick reminded him.

“He ain’t here to stop me. Unless you’re gonna tell him.” Daryl challenged, then immediately felt bad. He was risking Rick’s kids. “Only a rule in the house,” he added begrudgingly.

“I don’t need to know about y’alls house rules,” Rick said it like it was a joke, his voice a little tight. Then he squeezed his shoulder once, like an apology or to give him strength, before letting go. “C’mon. We can go to my place. Give you a rest halfway.”

“I ain’t some fuckin’ invalid. I’ve had worse,” Daryl muttered as they walked down the road, a few people greeting them as they went.

“I know,” Rick said tightly. “But you’ve never been operated on before. Well, since the Fall. Ever had surgery before?” he asked conversationally.

“When I was seven. Liver ruptured after–” Dad hit me too hard . He licked his lips and saw the familiar anger cross Rick’s face. “Merle took me to the ER.” He smiled softly at the memory, he was in hospital for a couple of days. Three meals a day. Allowed to rest in bed. It had been a luxury.

Until Dad dragged him home, complaining about the damn hospital bill. Daryl was at least allowed to heal before his back paid for that anger. Delayed punishment while he healed wasn’t common. His dad didn't usually have the patience. Not like Negan.

“I got away without any major surgery until I was shot… the first time,” Rick continued.

“Then you came runnin’ to find–” Carl . Did Rick hate him for that? Daryl caught the brief glimpse of grief and knew Rick was thinking of his son before he saw him push it away.

“Yeah. But I had been unconscious for a while, healing. You got what, three days of being unconscious? And I just know you’ve barely been in bed where you can help it since.”

Was the twist of his face a grimace of distaste? Should Daryl let him know that Negan was giving him a break from his ‘duties’ while he healed. Maybe it would affect the town, their safety. But Daryl couldn’t make himself say it. Tell Rick that Negan was taking a break from fucking him until he was ready to be ‘pounded into the mattress’.

Instead he shrugged. “Told ya, I’m fine.” Every step felt like he was walking on glass. He was nearly out of breath from just this short walk, his side was burning, but he didn’t dare say any of that out loud.

“You always are. But Alexandria is thriving. You can take as much time as you need.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I think it’ll be a while before Negan lets you outside the gate again. He was… frantic while we were out looking for you.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I went with him. There were a lot of search parties, but when it was clear you were further away, he and I were tracking you. Michonne stayed with the kids.”

The sense of betrayal hit him low in his gut. Daryl clenched his fists to keep from reacting but his chest was too tight, the anger and pain too hot. Rick helped to find him. He searched his mind for the correct thing to say, how would Rick expect him to react to this?

He was saved by someone approaching them, a large man with long dark hair and a wide grin. “Daryl! He let you out!” The man said in greeting. Daryl felt his cheeks heat while talking to him, a strange sense of shame running through him.

“I broke him out,” Rick explained.

“ Oohhh , Negan’s gonna be pissed. Careful, he’s on the field outside the school teaching.”

“We’ll avoid that area. Thanks, Jerry.”

“Anytime! I’ve gotta go, got wall duty but I’ll come see you soon, Daryl.” He reached out to pat him on the shoulder and continued past them.

Rick kept walking and Daryl sped up to keep up with him, ignoring the pain in his feet as Rick stopped by one of the townhouses. Daryl’s eyes drifted to the stairs going down to the cellar, wondering why it made his stomach twist.

But Rick led them up to the front door and inside. Daryl glanced around curiously at the hallway, the pictures on the walls and the piece of decking with two sets of blue handprints, one larger than the other.

A dog barked and skidded towards him, huffing and barking softly bringing a smile to his face.

“Hey, boy,” Daryl greeted, attempting to crouch but that caused too much pain so he just reached out to pet the dog.

“He's been missing you,” Rick told him.

“Yeah, me too,” Daryl murmured, one of the few things out of his mouth that didn't feel like a lie.

He followed Rick into the living room, where there was a comic left on the couch, a full bookshelf. It looked homey.

“Daryl? Hi!” A young voice shouted. “I was wondering why Dog ran off so suddenly.” He glanced towards the kitchen to see Judith limping towards them. She hadn’t been by since Negan threatened them, taking away his chance to really look at her knowing who she was now. He could see it, the features similar to Carl, Shane’s dark eyes, Lori’s smile.

But her prosthetic arm and leg took his attention - what the fuck happened?

“Why aren’t you in class?” Rick demanded, Judith rolled her eyes like an actual goddamn teenager taking Daryl’s breath away.

“I don’t have a class for a couple hours. Already did my PT this morning. Thought I’d come home like I do every week at this time. Is that allowed?”

“Of course.” Rick glanced at Daryl smirking like they were sharing a joke he didn’t understand.

“I’m glad I did! How are you, Daryl?”

“Fine.”

“You look pale.”

Rick studied him. “She’s right. You should sit, I’ll get you a drink.”

“I got it!” Judith limped back into the kitchen, Rick took Daryl’s arm, pulling him into the living room and on the couch.

Judith came back after a few minutes with a glass of water and sat on the chair across the room from then 

They talked for a while, Rick was telling him about the goings on in town, but the short walk had taken it out of him. Despite everything, he was finally safe, and Dog was warm on his legs. Daryl felt his eyes start to drift closed.

Negan finished his morning lessons and stopped at the pantry to get some bread before heading home to make sure Daryl ate lunch. He only had one dose of the antibiotic left, but he would need to get more poppy milk soon.

He let himself inside, the living room was empty. He made up the sandwich and went upstairs to find the bedroom empty too.

He sighed. He was surprised it had taken Daryl so long to go out, he had just hoped it would be with him as opposed to alone, at least the crossbow was still there and he didn't try to hunt yet.

Negan wrapped the sandwich and went in search of his husband, hoping he hadn’t collapsed in a ditch somewhere - not that there were ditches within the walls. But knowing Daryl, the second he was strong enough to leave the house he would decide to leave the gates.

“Hey, Gorgeous, you seen Daryl?” Negan asked Cat as he passed her. She and Brittney moved to Alexandria earlier that year after wanting to be closer to friends they knew from Sanctuary, Negan being one of them.

“No, but Princess said he was out with Rick.”

“Great. Thank you.” Negan jogged toward the Grimes house. He lifted his fist to knock only to hit air as the door opened. Judith blinked up at him.

“Oh hi!” She winced and glanced behind herself. “Shhh, he’s sleeping.” She scooted past him and limped down the stairs.

Negan chuckled to himself. He walked through the door and glanced in the living room to see Daryl asleep on the couch, a blanket covering his legs and Dog was lying on the floor beside him as though guarding him. Rick was on the other chair reading but looked up, a sheepish smile in place as he stood up and gestured to the kitchen.

Negan followed him, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, I thought he needed to get out of the house,” Rick admitted. “I didn’t realize he was still getting so tired.”

“It’s getting better, but I think the antibiotic and poppy milk is causing most of that,” Negan guessed. “You’re not wrong though. I’ve just been putting off taking him out, expecting him to just go.” He scratched at his stubble and asked, “Is it terrible I almost don’t want him well enough to go out for a walk? The sooner he heals, the sooner he goes back out there and I’ve got to worry about him again.”

Rick hummed and glanced in the direction Judith had gone. “I get that. As long as you’re not stopping his healing.”

“I’ve thought about it. Y’know, stab him in the incision, get him bleeding again. Another knock to the head might help knock everything back into place.” He mimed swinging a baseball bat. At Rick’s look, Negan lifted his hands in surrender. “Too soon?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “It’ll always be too soon.” He glanced past him before saying quietly, “Everyone’s worried about Daryl… but I’m worried about you, Negan.”

Negan tensed, they had talked so much while looking for Daryl, he had revealed more than he wanted. But right now, he didn’t matter. “I’m fine.”

“I hear there’s a rule you can’t use that word.”

Negan chuckled at how seriously Daryl had taken that rule. “I’m okay .”

“Have the–” Rick glanced around them again. “Do you still see the–”

Negan resisted the urge to glance at Lucille’s ghost who had been following him around all day. “They never stop,” he admitted, hating that Rick had caught him talking to Lucille out there, but thankfully they found Daryl the next day so they haven't had a chance to talk about it since. “It’s worse when I’m alone or stressed.”

“So, it’s bad right now?”

Negan sighed, even as he felt touched by Rick’s concern. Yet, he was almost grateful when something squeaked behind them and then footsteps followed. Negan turned to see Daryl stumbling out of the hallway, his eyes going wide when he saw Negan. “Hey, Darlin’. I’d at least appreciate a note if you’re going for a walk.”

“Sorry,” Daryl muttered, reaching his side and pausing, eyes darting around with that same confusion.

Negan stood to kiss him, ignoring Rick’s teasing groan. “It’s fine, I’ve got to get back to class soon, but there’s a sandwich in the fridge with your medicine.”

“Okay.”

“Rick–”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure he’s home. Need me to tie him to the bed too?”

“No, I like to do that myself. Maybe the handcuffs another time.” Negan winked and chuckled when Rick curled his lip. “I’ll see you soon, Darlin’.” He kissed him again. “Fresh air is doing you good already.”

Negan wasn’t surprised or angry he left the house.

Daryl paced the living room after Negan left the next day, stepping closer to the front door and then away again.

If the door was open he was allowed out, if it was locked–

“Fucking coward,” Daryl hissed to himself before he wrenched the door open, nearly stumbling backward when it did open.

He breathed in the warm air and looked around the houses to see multiple people walking around. None of which he recognized, but they all smiled and waved at him.

Daryl walked, careful to hide his limp better as he traveled down the main street.

He studied every face he passed, there were so few he knew anymore. The ones with obvious weapons were probably Saviors, if more of their people had weapons Daryl had no doubt Rick would be able to take control back. But were the rest Saviors, workers from Sanctuary, or were some just people that happened to live here? Citizens that knew Negan as the leader of Alexandria and nothing more.

He tried to memorize any names he heard, and he smiled politely at everyone who said hi to him or expressed relief he was okay. He assured them he was and kept walking.

He had one direction in mind, but he paused near the windmill and stared up at the building. It was incredible to see how far that had come. Negan had to have made this happen. He had the resources and the manpower.

All Daryl had to do was be his whore. He just wished he knew when Negan would decide to fuck him. The waiting reminded him of when his father passed out but Daryl knew he’d done something wrong, so once he woke up the beating would start.

Daryl stepped back on shaky legs and continued past the windmill, to his destination, wondering if Negan had kept his destination or trashed it?

He passed the town hall where he could see another Savior talking to Gabriel, who sat in a wheelchair. Guilt swirled in his chest for reasons he couldn't understand, was this his fault? Gabriel looked up and smiled, excusing himself from the Savior and rolled the wheelchair to him.

“Daryl, I’m glad to see you up and about.”

Daryl froze at the sight of his single white eye. What happened was on the edge of his tongue. He should know that, just like with Judith.

“Sorry I haven’t visited, they need to start adding ramps to all the stairs.”

“S’okay. I uh– woulda come to you but weren’t sure if Negan was gonna lock me in,” he admitted quietly. Gabriel had been useless back then but now he looked stronger than ever, ready to fight with two spears in the back of his wheelchair and spaces for guns and knives welded to the metal.

Gabriel chuckled. “At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me. He was losing his mind while you were gone. Terrorizing the village people. Now you’re up and about, come over when you can, both of you. Coco has been desperate to see Uncle Negan.”

Uncle Negan .

“Yeah– okay.”

“Great.” Gabriel smiled at him and continued past.

Daryl took a deep breath before he continued to his destination, to the wall where it used to be. The words “In Our Memory” remained, and the list was so much longer, each name felt like a failure.

Sasha. Carl. Eric. Jesus. Tara. Enid. Aaron.

Glenn. Abraham.

There were so many others he didn’t recognize, he wondered if Negan had joined in their tradition when his eyes fell on the name Laura. Or was it someone else who joined their family throughout the years?

Carol’s name wasn’t there, he realized with a jolt. Was she alive or did they stop writing names?

He pressed his hand against Carl’s name, he had read the letter over and over again, desperate for a clue. What happened to the boy he would have died for?

He stayed and read the names, memorizing each one waiting for the pain and the reaction but there was nothing for any of them he didn’t know. How many could he have prevented? How many were caused by him? How many were his fault or a punishment for him?

When he felt he could recite them from memory, he finally stepped back—and stumbled, his legs suddenly stiff. Pain radiated from his surgical wound, his back, and his feet . Exhaustion landed on him like a pile of walkers he couldn't escape from.

Shit. He normally napped by now. Which in itself was strange to him, he usually could get by on just a few hours of sleep, but now he was getting full nights and napping during the day and still felt ready to collapse.

He had finished his course of antibiotics, or maybe Negan decided he didn’t need them anymore. Only having one cup made it harder to avoid the poppy milk but he still managed to avoid it that morning, which made everything hurt but helped his mind focus.

He was fine, he didn’t need to rest , he needed to push past his pain, get stronger and faster. Negan keeping him inside was making him weak, any opportunity to gain muscle needed to be taken. Or he would never be able to hold his own in whatever sick game he was playing in.

Firming his resolve where he leaned against the wall, then he took a few deep breaths before pushing off. Using that momentum he started walking again, exploring Alexandria. He could smell herby and meaty cooking around the back of the town hall. But he continued moving, staying off the main road where most people were going about their day. He found the stables, the garage, he could see some trees to the orchard over the wall.

Then a large brick building to the east of the town. It was two stories and obviously built recently. As big as one of the cell blocks at the prison. Daryl froze and stared up at it in shock. They had built that? Christ.

A group of kids were on the field in front of the building, all holding knives, moving in formation as they swung and stabbed the air in front of them. Negan stood at the front of the group, his back to Daryl shouting orders.

Creating an army. Of children.

There were many more kids than before, the ones outside seemed to be ranging from ten to thirteen but he had seen some teenagers when he was with Rick and heard younger ones throughout the town.

Daryl stepped back, needing to move before Negan saw him but he stumbled again, everything ached so much that he was too slow before RJ saw him. He said something and Negan turned around, eyes locking with Daryl’s.

Negan peeled away from the group, rushing to him. “You’re pale as shit, Daryl. What are you doing?”

“Walkin’,” he muttered defensively before remembering the kids and he bowed his head, submissive. “Thought that was okay.”

“Of course, but don’t push yourself, Darlin’. You look like you’re going to collapse.” Negan studied the kids. “RJ. Take over, the knee then head maneuvre, you remember it?”

“Yes, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl barely kept from reacting. RJ said that to Negan . They were married and Negan took his name?

“I'll take your name. Everyone makes fun of mine.” Negan’s voice echoed through his mind.

“C’mon, Daryl. You need to go home.” Negan wrapped an arm around his back. Daryl hesitated then put his arm around Negan’s shoulders, letting the man take some of his weight and led him home .

“Since you’re up and about now,” Negan said once he was home with Daryl that afternoon. “Wanna eat in the town hall tonight?” Daryl frowned, just as confused as usual although his eyes did look clearer. “I love cooking for you, Darlin’, but I think it’ll be good to get back into routine. Or we can do it tomorrow, since you need to rest up.”

“Tonight is okay,” Daryl said eventually.

“Great.” Negan beamed. Now that tensions had eased and he was accepted in the town, he loved being in the town hall. The noise of the people, and the constant chatter was his happy place - other than with Daryl.

A couple of hours later, they walked in together, with the sun starting to set it was cooler but still hot for this time of year. At least until they walked into the stifling heat of the town hall full of people and hot dinners.

A few people glanced their way, then more, followed by a cheer. Daryl went completely still, his eyes almost comically wide. Negan chuckled and tugged Daryl’s hand towards the line as he pretended to bow as though the cheering was for him.

“They’re all glad you’re back,” Negan murmured to Daryl.

“About damn time, Dixon.”

Negan looked at Mark in the line behind them and aimed a slow elbow at him that Mark easily dodged. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“I thought I was scared of you at the Sanctuary. Turns out that was nothing.”

Negan rolled his eyes, although relieved they could joke about it. They had come a long way since Mark and others beat the shit out of him three years ago, finally coming to an understanding.

“I was starting to think Brit and I’d have to take your place again,” Cat spoke up from in front of them. Daryl spun to her, his eyes still wide from the cheering.

“You say that like it’s a problem, Gorgeous,” Negan sassed back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Maybe this was too soon for Daryl, the flashback with Judith still on his mind despite it happening over a week ago.

Cat rolled her eyes and turned away but he could see the smile she was failing to hide. Negan put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and glanced at him. Pausing when he saw how pale Daryl was, there were a lot of people around them, people Daryl knew and trusted but maybe it was a lot. Too much. Not knowing what he had been through made it harder to gauge.

“If this is too much, we can go back,” he said quietly. Daryl swallowed and picked up a dish from the table. Negan chuckled. “Point taken.”

They filled their plates of stew and Negan glanced around. Despite there never being a seating plan, it was rare anybody changed places. The older kids and the orphans all sat in the corner at a couple of long tables. Everyone else had their own table, the council were the closest to the door, the first to react if they were attacked.

Rick lifted a hand in a wave, sitting at their usual table with Michonne, Rosita, Gabriel, Coco, and Eugene. They had left two seats free between Rick and Eugene for him and Daryl.

“I'll join you in a second,” Negan murmured to Daryl and went towards the kids table, to where he could see Cora just playing with her food. She smiled at him when he stopped beside her. “Hey you, how you feeling?”

“Okay. Not sleeping well. He's been kicking much.”

“He? You got the ultrasound?”

“Yeah! Magna and Yumiko got a run for it. He's alive, healthy. Just movin’ the night.”

“I don't think I can help with the kicking, but don't hesitate to come by. Even if you need me even at night.” He squeezed her shoulder softly and glanced over the rest of the table. “All of you. I'm back now, permanently.”

They all smiled at him, only Judith rolled her eyes while grinning.

Negan made his way back to the table where Daryl had unsurprisingly settled beside Rick.

“Hi!” Coco greeted them, lifting her fork in a wave. He knew she was looking forward to joining the kids table but was a bit too young to eat unsupervised right now.

“Hey!” David shouted from the next table over, pulling a piece of meat off his cheek.

“Sorry!” Rosita shouted for her. She was holding Lázaro with one arm, feeding him as she ate her dinner.

David rolled his eyes and smiled when he realized it was Coco not one of the adults that threw it.

Negan chuckled. “Hey Coco-Puff.”

“We were just teasing Daryl that we'd missed his quiet grunting at dinner," Rosia caught him up.

Daryl smiled slightly. “S’good to be back.” He ate a mouthful of stew and glanced around the table, anxiety practically leaking from every pore.

Pushing him to go home wouldn’t be fair, Negan had to let him decide what he was ready for. Just to make conversation, Negan asked, “I hear one of the communities mixed some dead batteries in with working ones?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed and glanced around his shoulder, Negan followed his gaze to where Judith was trying to balance a spoon on her nose with Gracie and RJ doing the same, the kids’ table all laughing. “I wonder how you heard that,” Rick muttered.

“I know everything. Got spies everywhere,” Negan smirked and nudged Daryl’s side. “Right, Darlin’?”

“Yeah,” Daryl grunted.

Negan winked at Rick. “Which community?”

“Fort Belvoir,” Eugene answered.

Negan cursed under his breath. They were usually really good with their trade, there could be a problem if they were trying to get away with something like this. “Need me to handle it?”

He and Rick had been there recently when they looked for Daryl. The community was full of mostly men. All of them just the kind of people Negan would absorb before everything, put them in an outpost away from civilians. Aggressive and not fit for other communities. They respected strength and were definitely settled in the right place, a militaristic community in an old military base. Daryl paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Nah, we’ve got it,” Rosita said, glancing down at Lázaro and pulling him away, giving him to Gabriel to burp before covering herself up.

“We’re looking forward to you coming back to the council, Daryl,” Gabriel said. “Though not until you’re ready of course.”

Negan chewed on a piece of meat as he tried to think about how to reply. He didn’t want to announce Daryl’s confusion to the entire table where anyone around them might overhear, but he knew Daryl wasn’t ready to be part of the council again. He barely understood when Negan was asking him questions at home, seeming to have a hard time tracking the names of people and places Negan told him about when updating him on the community.

“How’s Lázaro doing?” Negan asked tightly to change the subject.

Rosita’s eyes darted from him to Daryl sensing his mood before she answered, “He’s great. Put on five pounds over the last month.”

“Fuck yeah, you did.” Negan leaned past the disgruntled Eugene so he pretended to fist bump Lázaro’s hand where it gripped Gabriel’s shoulder.

He grinned at Daryl but his smile faded when Daryl was still frowning, eyes darting between every member of their family.

BONUS SCENE: NEGAN POV - THE BRIDGE

Moonshine was being a bitch. 

Negan cursed his horse and her temper as he tried to rein in his. They complemented each other well, and he knew he was pushing her a lot more than any other horse would tolerate. As he got off to lead her across the bridge she kept jerking back, frustrated to be backtracking.

Rick gave him a wide-berth, moving ahead with his well-mannered horse as though highlighting how he had everything under control.

“That’s why I followed him,” Laura mused from his side, watching Rick cross the bridge easily. “He’s just the kinda guy you listen to ya know?”

“He still had a tiny mutiny,” Simon pointed out. “When Daryl and Maggie wanted to kill you. Got him killed though, mine just got me killed.”

“You always knew how to meet people where they were though,” Lucille added. Negan suddenly felt surrounded and focused on not responding, giving more space between him and Rick in case he slipped up and said an answer out loud. “I think you allowed people to be who they were and showed them who they could be. Rick just picks people that are already in line with what he wants.”

Rick never would have allowed even a fraction of his Saviors into Alexandria. He probably would have turned Negan away as well, even in the beginning. There were still times Negan disagreed with how things were handled, but Daryl listened to him and had a spot on the council.

It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Rick was a good leader and Negan didn’t think he’d be back to Alexandria, ever. He just needed Rick to go home. They were technically moving towards Alexandria now, he would try and get Rick to keep going back.  

Negan picked up speed to close the gap to Rick, who was off his horse and moving between some cars, when the bridge just gave way. Rick twisted around, Chief scrambling back from the loud noises and dragged him off his feet before there was suddenly nothing under Rick. 

Negan let go of Moonshine, who stood stock still, and bolted towards them. “Rick!”

He could see Rick’s prosthetic fist scrabbling at the chunks of concrete and rebar, the panic in his face as Chief jerked and tried to tug him back. He was almost there when he heard the halter snap. Rick let out a “Fuck” just as Negan got there. The rebar dug at him when he reached down, desperate to see where Rick fell.

The river was swollen, Rick fell between two of the cars that had plummeted before him, chunks of concrete were everywhere in the river. Miraculously Rick missed them all, at least that Negan could see. He stood and stared, eyes darting around the river as he waited for Rick to pop back up. 

He can swim, Negan kept chanting. He knew Rick could swim, even with his prosthetic. He was counting in his head, ignoring how it made him think of thunderstorms and walkers. It was taking too long for Rick to resurface.

“Think he hit his head when he fell?” Croat asked from next to him. “Probably landed on some rocks or metal. So sad.”

“Fuck!” Negan shouted. Diving in would be suicide, the cars were still sinking and bobbing, he could see the parts of the bridge under the water. Rick missing them was pure luck, and Negan didn’t have any luck.

He shed his leather jacket, going to toss it and turning into Moonshine, who had shown up on the edge of the crumbling bridge. She’d followed him even as he noticed Chief’s tail disappearing into the trees. “Keep this safe.” The leather jacket landed on her back and he turned and dove into the raging river, doing his best to aim.

Maybe he got to borrow Rick’s luck. He didn’t hit anything but water when he landed, though it still felt nearly solid and threatened to knock the breath from his lungs. The river tugged and swept him downstream and it occurred to him he had no idea how to find Rick now that he made it to the water. As though summoned by his thoughts he suddenly spotted the pale blue of Rick’s shirt bobbing under the surface ten yards away. 

The summers he spent as a lifeguard served him well as he swam and dove down, grabbing Rick under his arms and rolling so that Negan’s chest was to his back, forcing Rick’s face up and over the edge of the water. The other man remained limp, not fighting or helping. Not good.

Getting him to shore was hard, he didn’t fight the river but moved at an angle to the shore. It wasn’t happening fast enough, he needed to get Rick out of the water and start CPR. Statistics and everything he’d learned in class about survival rates ran through his head unhelpfully. 

His boot hit the ground and then lost purchase almost instantly, the river tugging him another few yards before it got shallow enough for him to push more toward the shore and stay grounded. Rick was suddenly heavy, Negan could feel his chest and ribs protesting as he dragged the limp man through the mud to get him flat and above water.

The second he could lay Rick down without him being in water he let him fall then collapsed on top of him, pressing his chest hard. He scrambled up and started CPR, giving a few rescue breaths and compressions in a rhythm that he knew was too fast and not hard enough. If you break something you’re doing it right.  

Right as Negan went to give another rescue breath, Rick suddenly coughed, turning sideways and vomiting.

Alive.

Chapter Text

Rick was still shaking as the adrenaline wore off, but he knew they couldn't stay here for long. They needed to get the horses and keep going.

He glanced up at Negan who was studying the bridge they had been on in the distance. He tried not to think about \how far they had traveled down the river. There were two more bridge structures closer to them, one had long since fallen down, the other looked like a train bridge, still in one piece as far as Rick could see.

"What is it?" Rick asked as Negan stared between the bridges.

"We're on the wrong side. We're gonna have to cross it again."

"I hate bridges," Rick muttered.

Negan looked towards the road behind them that ran North, back toward Alexandria and his family. Rick saw what he was going to say before Negan opened his mouth.

" No ."

"You could have died, Rick."

"I've lost count of the number of near-death experiences I've had now. When this all started I was in a fucking coma, Negan. How many other people can say that and still be alive? I'm not going back. I’m helping you find Daryl.”

"And if I have to go back and tell Judith and RJ I not only couldn't find Daryl, but you died on the way?! They'll never forgive you or me."

"Did you jump in for me or for Judith?" Rick asked, partly teasing but also curious. Did Negan just save him for the teenager he loves?

Negan shook his head slightly and said under his breath, "why does nobody ever fucking get it," while looking back at the river, his Adams apple bobbling and his scar moving with it. Negan tilted his head slightly as though he was listening to something, his jaw working, but he didn't speak.

Sensing he wasn't going to answer, but starting to suspect he already knew, Rick said, "If you were both gone, I would be out here looking for both of you ."

Negan looked back at him, bright eyes shining.

"I'm not leaving," Rick emphasized. " Stop trying to make me."

Negan sighed and held out a hand. Rick took it, letting Negan help him to his feet. "You know you'd sound more intimidating if you weren't in your underwear," Negan teased.

Rick rolled his eyes and went to check their clothes. Thankfully, they were already dry.

They walked back up the hill, Negan carrying a thick branch like a bat. Rick still had his gun in his belt, but his axe was gone, deep in the river by now. Most of his weapons were in his bag on Chief.

They got to the top of the hill, both breathless, and looked across the two closer bridges. Rick cursed under his breath. The train bridge had a rusty train on it. They could have gone around, but there were walkers inside and the edges of the bridge looked crumbling and unstable. Normally, he'd suggest taking the walkers on, but they didn't have enough weapons.

"See how much is left?" Negan suggested in a whisper, nodding to the bridge they had started to cross before it collapsed.

Rick hummed his agreement. They walked back to the bridge in silence, wary of drawing the walkers' attention, but as they got closer, Rick looked in the river and could see what he had survived.

What Negan had willingly jumped into.

Large chunks of concrete were still slowly letting go and falling from the bridge, crashing into the water amongst rocks and metal. There were some cars still floating past them.

It was a death sentence.

He studied the silent Negan, wondering, not for the first time, what they could have built if they worked together.

Would Carl still be alive?

"You should join the council," Rick blurted.

Negan took two more steps before he stopped and turned to Rick, eyes drifting to his prosthetic hand for a split second. "What?"

"I know you join some meetings as the principal. But we haven't replaced Ezekiel yet."

Rick felt a certain sense of satisfaction every time he managed to render Negan speechless.

"Isn't that an insult to him?" Negan asked, even trying to sound small, his presence filled the area. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but he never warmed up to me."

"We might need to wait till Carol comes back, her vote on that matters more than the rest of us. But you've got my vote."

"I don't know what to say."

Rick smirked. "That's a first."

Negan laughed, the first real laugh Rick had heard from him since Daryl disappeared. Rick grinned, satisfied.

Negan's mood shifted rapidly. "If I come back, I accept. Thank you, Rick."

Rick sighed but didn't argue, ignoring the ‘if’ and taking the win.

They reached the end of the bridge, and Rick looked across at the carnage. Southbound was completely gone where he had been standing, and most of Northbound had followed, leaving an I-beam spanning across the river.

"I really hate bridges," Rick muttered.

“You’re healing wonderfully, Daryl,” Izzy told them as she took the stitches out of his surgical wound as he laid back on their bed without a shirt to give her access. “Even with your adventures.”

“I had no way to stop him,” Negan defended quickly. He wouldn’t admit he hadn’t even tried to stop Daryl from going on his now daily walks, he just limited the amount of time he walked for by sending friends to corral him home. Daryl was getting stronger every day, he wasn’t falling asleep for naps since the first week, but he was still confused and slower than he used to be. Negan just hoped that would heal along with everything else.

Izzy sent him a look that told him she knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.

“I’m going to leave the bandage off to let your wound breathe and finish healing now. It’s basically there.” Negan glanced over her shoulder at the wound, showing the long thin cut and smaller prick marks where the stitches had been. It would scar, just another in the long list of scars Daryl had. “It’s just your arm left to heal. We’ll give that another few weeks before we take the cast off. But you don't need to wear the sling all the time anymore.”

Daryl just nodded, watching her pack up from his reclined position, silent as ever.

“You can resume most normal activities. No hunting until your arm has healed,” Izzy said, “Carefully,” she added with a pointed glance between them.

Negan chuckled. “I won’t break him, Doc. Promise.”

He glanced down at Daryl, smirking, a joke on his lips but Daryl was still as stone, eyes locked on Negan’s bedside table, his uninjured hand gripping the bedsheet.

Negan waited until Izzy was gone, letting herself out before he closed the bedroom door and tugged Daryl to sit up to kiss him hard, licking into his mouth. “God, I wish I didn’t need to go to class,” he whispered against Daryl’s lips, wanting to calm him down and remind Daryl he was safe in a way that always worked.

Daryl paced the bedroom, his eyes wandering to Negan’s bedside table wondering if he should prepare himself with the lube and dildo. But what if that would anger Negan? Did Negan prefer that he be ready for him? Would he want to split him open on his fingers or his cock with only as much prep as he wanted Daryl to have? Did he want to make it hurt?

I won't break him.

He hadn’t tried anything sexual since the blow job but Daryl had mentally prepared himself for it. He was going to be able to do it. He had seen enough of Alexandria. It was doing so well. They had a school, a building they called the ‘Kids House’ that he eventually figured out was an orphanage for a group of kids Negan had found surviving alone out there, one of which was heavily pregnant, at barely sixteen years old. Plus, they were bringing in new people all the time. They had enough food and water. Walls they were beginning to strengthen with brick .

They were safe.

Rather than stretch and lube himself, figuring he could make the decision later since Negan was off for a few hours with class, he turned on the shower. At least he could be clean for Negan. He took a deep breath before he climbed into the bath, the same images as before flashing into his mind. He was prepared this time and was able to finish showering quickly - careful of his arm cast.

When he was finished, he dressed again and stared at Negan’s bedside table.

“C’mon, yer bein’ a damn coward! Buck the fuck up, it ain’t nothin’ you can’t do,” he muttered to himself.

Everyone in the town hall could eat their fill. Lázaro had baby fat, something Judith barely had when she was born, despite giving Lori everything they could and scavenged food being more plentiful. Seeing Lázaro now Daryl was aware how underfed they all were.

Everyone else was healthy and not malnourished.

Judith was growing up happy, acting like a real teenager, and he loved her more than anything in the world despite barely knowing her yet. She was his Lil Asskicker and he would die for her.

Rick, his best friend, the man he loved but was content to be his brother.

Carol, the woman he prayed was alive out there somewhere.

He took a deep breath and pulled open the drawer roughly grabbing at the pictures.

He checked out each one. Studying and memorizing the positions, the look on his own face. His cheeks were burning, but the man in the picture seemed confident, used to giving up everything for his family.

There was one where he was working himself open with the dildo, he carefully ignored the stretch of his mouth and throat around Negan’s cock, maybe he could risk it this time?

Negan wandered home, disappointed his lesson was canceled. Swimming in the rain made it harder to keep an eye on the kids and the distant rumble of thunder was enough to pull them for safety before it got bad. A few cold drops splashed on the back of his neck and bare arms, the short sleeved shirt leaving him exposed to an evening growing chilly despite the hot weather they had been enjoying recently.

He tried not to focus on the thunder, the cold rain, the warm blood streaming through his fingers–Negan reached the house, taking a deep breath to calm his raging heartbeat before going inside. Daryl wasn’t in the living room so he crept upstairs in case Daryl was sleeping and peered through the ajar door to find Daryl sitting on the edge bed. Their sex drawer sat open and the pictures they took a while back were in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he studied them.

Negan’s cock jumped and grew at the sight, straining at his jeans as though it was reaching out to his partner just a few yards away. Negan stared at those pictures often, reliving the moment each was taken. Anytime he mentioned them to Daryl his husband would blush and start stuttering, losing the confidence he had that night.

“Well, shit. I didn’t know you looked at them,” Negan spoke up, pushing the door all the way open. After the shower a week ago he’d been focused on being good, worried about straining Daryl while he was healing. He didn’t realize that Daryl must have been missing the intimacy they usually shared so often. 

When Judith got hurt they both slowed down. Negan’s pneumonia and guilt put a damper on things. The daily PT sessions ate up their mornings and Daryl was out hunting to provide for the town so much of the day. Then the orphans. 

Finding the orphans and spending time with them as the only person they trusted at the beginning meant Negan had no spare time. A few of their evening plans had aborted just as they started with kids bursting into their home for one thing or another. Their relationship had been sacrificed, Daryl understood, but Negan missed him even before he went missing.

Daryl physically jumped, dropping a couple of the pictures in the process.

“I–” Daryl’s cheeks were burning. He licked his lips, eyes running up and down Negan’s body. “I thought you had class?”

“Canceled.” He nodded at the window as the rain started pattering on it. “Swimming lessons in the rain aren’t as fun.”

“Yer already wet.”

Negan chuckled. “Touchè.” Negan sat beside him, pressing his hips into Daryl’s, and picked up the dropped pictures. The one he had was probably his favorite. Daryl on his knees, Negan’s tattooed hand around his throat with his tongue wide and waiting for the cock tip hovering just in frame.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum harder after taking this.” He gestured at the next in the pile of Daryl laying on the bed. Silky soft pink ropes were wrapped into almost a cuff around Daryl's wrists, binding them together and to the headboard. More ropes crossed his thighs and calves to force frog legs and spread him wide and waiting. A pool of pre-cum glistened at the tip of his bound dick. The pale rope separated his balls, contrasting the angry purple tip. “Actually… tying you up to fuck you, Chr ist. ”

Daryl shifted on the bed. Negan could see a tent growing in his pants already and wanted to get his mouth on him.

“Hey…” Negan gently touched just under his chin. Using one finger to urge him to turn his head, needing to look at his eyes. Daryl’s pupils were blown, his breathing picking up. “Izzy said you’re healed for activities, but are you up for it?” 

God, it had been so long. He wanted to sink into his husband, hear his breathy moans, watch him lose his mind with every touch.

Daryl swallowed audibly, eyes darting down to the pictures and then back to him. “Why do ya think I was lookin’ at these?”

Negan grinned and took all the pictures from his hand, putting them back in the drawer and taking out the tub of pale green lube. He put it on top of the bedside table within easy reach and turned back to Daryl, leaning to kiss him again, slow, exploring his mouth with his tongue and moaning against him. Daryl kissed back, his good hand reaching out to Negan’s waist.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Negan whispered, kissing down his jaw, his neck, drawing a gasp from him. Negan bit him lightly.

Daryl leaned into it but was otherwise silent. It would be like that then , Negan thought to himself. Anticipation building, he would make Daryl whine and shout. Drag each noise out of him in their favorite game.

He made quick work of the buttons on Daryl’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He forced himself to slow down to take it around his cast more carefully. Only then did he see the clench in Daryl’s half fist, the trembling of his other hand.

“Hey.” Negan placed his hand over the clenched fist wondering once again if Daryl was raped while he was there . “It’s just me and you, but if you’re not ready yet–” His cock strained angrily against his pants but it didn’t matter, Daryl mattered more. “We can stop, Darlin’. You can rest a bit more, I can stay with you but if you want to be alone I can go see Rosita. I’ve not spent much time with her since Lázaro was born.” He still hated he hadn't been there when the baby was born. He’d missed the first month of the boy’s life and hadn't been there to help his friend as she adjusted to being a mom to two kids. He had been too focused on finding Daryl to help Rosita like he intended to when he first found out she was pregnant.

Panic shot across Daryl’s face so fast that Negan nearly missed it before Daryl pulled him down, kissing him again, rough and desperate. 

“I’m fine,” Daryl panted. “Want this.” Negan thought of the first time Daryl had kissed him. The desperation in his eyes to be touched and be distracted from his pain and his fear. To just be used and held.

Daryl needed this and Negan was always happy to be whatever Daryl needed.

Him or Rosita.

The baby was so young, she might still be hurting. He didn't know how long women were supposed to wait after having a baby.

Hell, even without Lázaro, Daryl would choose himself any day. Killed, tortured, raped. He wouldn’t let it be Rosita, or anyone else, if he could help it. Cat’s words from the other night echoed in his mind.

Jesus Christ, he needed Negan dead, but he couldn’t kill him yet. Maybe Rick was playing the long game, waiting for there to be more newcomers than Saviors inside the walls. He didn’t know enough, his memories like polkadots. More empty space than dots of memory.

Daryl clenched his trembling fist hoping to hide the shaking Negan had already seen, Negan preferred to think he wasn’t scared. You don’t scare easy . The pressure in his left hand caused pain to tingle up and down the broken bone, something to focus on.

He could be fucked. It was nothing. Just skin touching skin.

Daryl’s stomach rolled. How many times had he let Negan fuck him to keep Rosita or someone else safe? Would it be better or worse if that was how all this started?

Rick flashed into his mind, stumbling out of the RV, broken, exhausted, scared. Had Negan raped him? Was Daryl protecting him too? It can be me. Rick’s voice rang in his mind, you can do it to me. I c–I can go with–with you. But Negan hadn’t taken him that day, he’d keyed onto Daryl instead. Rick had tried to get him away from Negan before, was it because he knew what Negan wanted him for?

He needed to stop thinking about that. It wasn’t going to help him with what was coming.

The rain started coming down in earnest as Negan pushed his shoulders gently, urging him to lay back on the bed, and pushed his leg out of the way to settle between them. He leaned over him, capturing his lips again in a bruising kiss. He rocked his hips letting Daryl feel every inch pressing into him. His own cock hardened in interest, twitching towards Negan, despite the sick feeling rolling in his stomach.

With hands that refused to stop shaking, Daryl touched Negan’s waist, exploring the warm skin under his shirt. Running his fingers over the textured skin of scars and coarse thin hair on his stomach.

Negan kissed down his jaw, his neck, then kept moving down his body. Finally forcing Daryl to stop touching him. Not knowing what to do with his hand, Daryl let it drop, clutching onto the bedsheet. Yet, Daryl arched into every touch, biting his lip to keep from making any noise. But Negan knew exactly where to touch. Each brush sent sparks up and down Daryl’s body, places that made it impossible to think about anything except Negan touching him.

Negan caught his nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough that it stung, Daryl couldn’t hold back a quiet gasp, his hips jerking and cock straining against his pants. Reacting to the pain like he enjoyed it. Negan chuckled low in his throat and released his nipple only to lick away the hurt, reminding Daryl of the nipple clamps he had seen. He had never enjoyed pain before. Pain was part of violence, a beating. Rape. Sex was supposed to just feel good. Had Negan trained him to respond to pain? To like it?

Unaware of Daryl’s tumbling thoughts, Negan kept moving lower. Daryl’s stomach twisted, and Negan mouthed at the bulge in his pants Daryl tried to pretend wasn’t there. He had to fight not to jerk his hips up, needing more friction. Needing no clothes between them. Hating that he wanted that.

Negan flicked at the button to his pants and Daryl lifted his hips automatically. Letting Negan pull his pants and boxers down his legs, his cock sprung free, red and desperate for touch Daryl didn’t want.

Negan grinned wickedly at him before sucking his cock into his mouth in one quick movement.

“Oo-h fuck,” Daryl gasped before he could stop the words. Negan hummed around his cock, the vibrations moving through his body starting at the wet heat that surrounded him.

Negan bobbed his head, tongue pressing flat against him, taking his length deeper until he could feel the back of Negan’s throat, to then pull nearly all the way off, lapping at the steadily leaking pre-cum.

Daryl gripped the sheets, every movement bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he exploded, unable to help the cries that escaped. Negan took him deep, the cum shooting down his throat.

When he could breathe again, Negan pulled back, licking up his too-sensitive cock, and moved up his body again. The rough drag against his cock pulled a whine from Daryl’s throat.

“There we go,” Negan whispered, “let me hear you.”

Speak when you’re spoken to .

His heart lurched, eyes locking with Negan above him, his whole body felt like he was trembling.

Rape was supposed to be violent and painful. He expected to be shoved onto his front and fucked. Not this. Not bodies writhing together, slow, making Daryl come, blowing him. Daryl almost wished it was violent. But it was like Negan liked making sure Daryl enjoyed it. He always seemed to like mind games, and knowing his enemy made him feel so goddamn good was definitely fucking him up. The damage to his soul was worse than anything Negan could have done to his body.

He had to calm down, he could do this.

His mind drifted to the knife on the back of his bedside table.

How many times did he have a contingency plan he never used? There had to be a reason he hadn’t killed Negan for so long, beyond the Saviors all over Alexandria. Because he’d had opportunities, still had them, and he couldn’t let him hurt Rosita or anyone else.

With only one good hand, Daryl tugged at the bottom of Negan’s shirt. Negan sat up on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head. Daryl swallowed, eyes running over Negan’s muscular chest. He had been naked around him – changing, showering, climbing into bed – but Daryl had tried not to look.

Now he had to.

His eyes ran over the salt and pepper hair that lightly covered Negan’s chest and stomach, seeing as it thickened and converged to a happy trail that disappeared into his jeans. He had a skull tattoo on his left pec and a few scars littering his body, a thick one on his chest, but nothing like Daryl's.

His eyes trailed up again and caught Negan's smiling face.

He was good at sex. He could make this good. Make it worth it. Hell, he enjoyed giving blow jobs, always had. This was no different from sucking someone off in the bathroom of some bar for a free meal, or a fuck in a motel bed for somewhere to sleep where his Dad couldn’t get to him.

Daryl pushed himself up on his uninjured arm, and hooked his two fingers from his cast into Negan's jeans, pressing into his hard cock, and flicked the button open.

Negan's eyes slipped closed and his hips rocked forward, as though that small touch was already grasping him.

He pushed Negan's jeans down. Negan slid off the bed so he could take his pants and boxers off completely, revealing a massive cock that Daryl had desperately been trying not to look at.

How the hell was it going to fit?

He thought his own cock was spent but it twitched at the sight of Negan’s.

“Turn over, Darlin’,” Negan ordered.

No.

Daryl rolled onto his front, chest pressed to the bed to keep weight off his broken arm. Bare ass presented for Negan. He kept his eyes away from Negan, despite the photo in the drawer telling him Negan liked him to watch. Humiliation and terror mixed to become a hard rock in his stomach refusing to move.

Hands grasped at his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. Daryl braced himself for the pain. He was right not to have prepped. Negan wanted to make it hurt. He desperately tried to force himself to relax. The bed shifted, Negan getting closer – then a soft, warm tongue lapped at his hole, as a scratchy beard rubbed between his ass cheeks.

“Oh– oh fuck.” Daryl keened, mindlessly pushing back against the tongue.

Only three words repeated in his mind: What the fuck?

A slick finger pushed into him beside the tongue, the intrusion was awkward and uncomfortable but not painful. “Wanna hear you,” Negan whispered, nibbling his ass cheek. “Say my name.”

Christ. He managed a breathy, “Negan.”

“Yeah. I’ve got you.” Another finger pushed into him and then they moved, finding his prostate with practiced ease. Daryl groaned at the burst of pleasure, lightning shooting through every nerve. His cock reacted, getting hard again so damn quickly. Negan chuckled against him and brushed his fingers over his prostate again. “You like that, Darlin’?”

Speak when you’re spoken to .

“Y– yeah.”

Negan took his time, stretching him open, the uncomfortable feeling quickly becoming pure pleasure. With every other thrust Negan would stroke his prostate leaving Daryl gasping, desperate for the next plunge.

He would pull his fingers out only to replace them with his tongue, lapping and pushing his tongue into him before replacing his fingers. Daryl rocked back, every thought just more, more, more , not daring to let himself hate himself for it, that would come later. At least he wasn’t being fucked open and left bleeding.

“Fuck, I can never get enough of you, Darlin',” Negan spoke as he fingered him. “Bent over for me, so goddamn hot.”

With his other hand, Negan brushed his fingers down his back, sending a shiver down his spine as the fingers moved around, exploring his scars like a map, stroking over the numb spots and then scratching down the sensitive skin.

“All fucking mine,” Negan growled then pulled back, pushing against Daryl’s hip. Daryl went still, not sure what Negan wanted. “Turn, Darlin’,” Negan ordered. “I wanna see your face.”

Daryl rolled over, searching Negan's expression for a clue to what he wanted. This wasn’t what he was used to. Negan’s eyes were closed in pleasure as he spread the lube over his cock, then he lifted Daryl’s leg over his hip.

Daryl took a deep breath and lifted his hips.

Relax .

Negan lined up and pushed into him, stretching him impossibly open. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, it felt so goddamn good. He’d never been this full, Negan’s cock brushed against his prostate with every movement. Daryl wanted to curse and cry and beg for more , gripping Negan’s hips. Bodies slid together, running along his too-sensitive engorged cock pulling a mewl from his lips.

Negan gasped and breathed out, “Daryl, Daryl, Daryl–” Until his hips pressed against Daryl’s ass. “Look at me,” Negan whispered. Daryl forced his eyes open to see pure bliss on Negan’s face leaning above him. The compass that swung from his neck, acting like a pendulum for Daryl to watch.

Negan ducked his head to kiss him again. Daryl had always found kissing awkward, but as much as he hated it, kissing Negan was like coming up for air.

Clearly, Negan felt the same. His lips hardly leaving Daryl's as long as he could reach. Kissing him, long and deep, licking into his mouth as he started rocking slowly. Hands explored his body, he pinched a nipple and bit at Daryl’s bottom lip, then moved back adjusting to get a better angle to fuck into him harder, faster.

Their moans and gasps mixed together until Daryl didn’t know who the whine came from. He needed to cum. His cock needed more, something– Negan grasped his cock and stroked him in time with his thrusts. “Fuck–”

“I’ve got ya,” Negan whispered, Daryl came with a shout and Negan followed, hips twitching and filling him with his cum.

He dropped his weight onto Daryl’s. Daryl hissed at the pressure on his still sore ribs. Somehow understanding immediately Negan rolled off him. “Shit, sorry.”

Once he caught his breath, Negan rolled onto his side and studied Daryl, a smile teasing his lips. “Better?”

How could he be better? How was that supposed to have helped him?

Negan only wanted one answer. “Yeah.” He tilted his head accepting the kiss before Negan pulled back, eyes dark.

“Shower with me? I’m not ready to stop touching you yet.”

What could he do but follow Negan into the open bathroom hoping the water spraying on them would hide the trembling of his hands.

Daryl put a hand to his neck, glancing in the mirror at the giant purple hickey on the scarred stranger's neck. His hair was long enough to hide it, but was he allowed to? Was that why his hair was long?

When someone in the prison told Carol her hair looked good growing out a bit, Carol admitted to Daryl she had it shaved because Ed liked to grab it to pull her around.

“I did get a bit too enthusiastic,” Negan said, moving behind him, drawing him out of his spiral of thoughts and into the present. His body pressed against Daryl as he brushed a hand over the bruise, the other falling to his waist. “I love leaving my mark on you, but should have done it before you were going out again.” Negan ducked his head and licked along the hickey. Daryl couldn't contain his shudder. “You're more ticklish recently,” Negan commented.

Daryl just hummed, unable to speak for fear of being sick.

“Can stay here to eat, as much as I wanna show you off like this.” Negan’s voice was possessive and the hand on his waist tightened.

Daryl chewed on his lip. Going out where people could see it was humiliating, but that was what Negan liked, right? Marching him around Alexandria in that dirty outfit. Leaving him naked in the cell for days.

This was a game, he wanted Daryl to say yes and to request the humiliation. He didn't want to play into his hand or give him the satisfaction, but the happier he made Negan the better off his family was. He’d already let Negan fuck him. Cumming twice in bed and then again in the shower, even after being sure he was empty. His pride was dust, it shouldn’t twinge. No point in wasting Negan’s good mood, turning it sour.

“Can go,” he murmured. Negan's eyes widened, surprise and pleasure lighting his face.

“Are you sure?” He touched Daryl's bare shoulder and ran a thumb across the hickey. Daryl shrugged. “Christ, I wanna show you around. Middle ground?” Negan adjusted Daryl's hair, careful to only touch the ends of the strands.

“Sure.” Daryl let Negan help him dress, distancing himself from the process as Negan seemed to hover.

He needed to act normal.

“There, not as obvious.” Negan fussed a little, and Daryl frowned, why wouldn't he want to parade the mark? Daryl caught his reflection in the mirror by the bed and his stomach dropped. Negan had pulled out one of Daryl’s red bandanas and tucked it around his throat. It made him look like he was wearing a red scarf.

Negan stepped out of the RV the red scarf around his neck mirrored the blood pouring down Daryl's shoulder and chest. He wished the bastard’s throat was already cut.

Negan quickly dressed himself and held out his right hand. Daryl took it, wishing his other arm was broken so he didn’t have to touch Negan’s whole hand with his own, and let Negan lead him out the house and to the town hall. Both of them hunching against the rain that seemed to be getting lighter ever so slightly, despite the thunder getting louder.

He was sure everyone was staring at them. He felt like the dirty outcast he was at school once again.

Was he limping? He was always limping these days from the pain in his feet, but… was it obvious now he had just been fucked? Was it obvious that Negan made him feel good?

Were his lips swollen? Could they see the hickey through his hair and the damning neckerchief? Or would their eyes just see him as an extension of Negan again? He wanted to cover the mark with a hand, rip the bandana off his throat, but that would just draw attention to it.

Act normal.

They got their stew and Negan went to the kids table first, Daryl watching him as he spoke to his child soldiers. Daryl joined the table by the entrance with Rick, Michonne, Coco, and Eugene. All three adults eyed the bandana, curious, but nobody commented.

“You good?” Rick asked him.

Daryl grunted and sat to start eating, every bite tasted like ash and settled in his stomach like a rock, threatening to come back up.

Act normal.

Negan joined them after just a minute, sitting beside him.

“Uncle Negan! Sit with me!” Coco demanded sitting opposite them with Eugene. Daryl settled next to Rick, Michonne at the head of the table on his other side. Negan sat next to Daryl in the empty chair left for him.

“Uncle Negan will no doubt wish to remain with his husband,” Eugene tried to explain.

“Uncle Negan doesn't mind.” Negan stood again, brushing his hand against Daryl's back as he moved to the other side of the table beside Coco.

He watched them intently as Negan settled in place and winked at him. Daryl was suddenly glad for the good mood he’d paid for. Coco shouldn’t have to fear Negan, she should remain happy and feel loved. Negan took Coco’s spoon from her hand, ignoring her shouted, “Hey!” and took a scoop of the stew and started moving it to her mouth, making airplane noises.

Coco laughed, accepting the mouthful but spoke around it to say, “I'm not a baby!”

“Oh! My mistake. You’re just so small.”

Rick nudged Daryl's side, pulling his attention from Negan. “You okay? Not hungry?”

Act normal.

“Hm?” Daryl realized he was still holding the spoon with his first mouthful. He quickly ate it. Negan noticed when he took too long to eat. “Distracted.”

“I noticed.” Rick's eyes darted down to the bandana. “Bit hot for a scarf, isn't it?”

Daryl shrugged and tried to change the subject quickly. He glanced around the table and asked, “Where’s Rosita ‘n Gabriel?” 

His family usually chose to sit at the same table reminding Daryl of school, except this time he was invited to the popular kids’ table.

“Lázaro is of the appropriate age to experience a phenomenon deemed ‘the witching hour’ in which he has decided to be inconsolable. Rosita has sacrificed herself for the good of the community to stay home with him. Gabriel is joining her in the fray. But I saw no reason for Miss Coco or myself to suffer alongside them,” Eugene explained. “We will of course return at the end of dinner, which by my estimate will be when the little tyke has worn himself out.”

Judith appeared beside them, leaning between Daryl and Rick. “Dad! Mom! Can I go to the foal watch tonight?”

“Sure,” Rick said, glancing at Michonne, both of them shrugging.

“Foal watch?” Daryl asked, glancing at Negan as he spoke up, waiting to be yelled at for speaking out of turn, but it never happened. There was something in Negan’s face, an almost mischievous air and Daryl felt himself starting to clench, his shoulders rising with the tension. His still sore body protesting.

“Violet is due any day now,” Rick explained, Daryl guessed Violet was a horse. “We’ve got a few people swapping out to be near her stall every night in case she needs help.”

Rick tensed, a thought crossing his face that seemed to alarm him. “Who–”

“How did you bruise your neck ?” Judith asked, frowning down at Daryl. Her angle let her see between the bandana and his neck, but now that she drew attention back to it everyone was staring. 

Daryl's stomach dropped, he was going to be sick. They could see it. Everyone around the table was still, staring at him with various expressions.

They knew. There was sympathy in their eyes. Rick looked angry, eyes lingering on Negan.

“We were playing catch and Daryl missed,” Negan lied smoothly.

“What? Why–” Judith’s eyes widened. “ Eww ! I’m going now, won’t be home, bye love you all!” She rushed off quicker than Daryl had seen her move so far.

Rick watched her go, frowning then turned his glare back on Negan. “ Who’s on foal watch tonight?”

“Who do you think?” Negan asked, smirking knowingly. “Why'd you think she changed the subject?”

Rick cursed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“He’s a good kid, Prick.” Despite his words, Negan looked more exasperated than irritated.

Rick's shoulders sagged. “You'd be more concerned if he wasn't one of your projects.”

“I prefer to say protégés.”

“I can tell her no,” Michonne said, but Rick shook his head.

“We need to prove we can trust her.”

“We can trust her and him. He’s a sweet kid,” Michonne murmured. “He's only ever known her since after .” Negan tensed suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at the empty spot Gabriel usually sat, a look crossing his face Daryl was sure was shame . “I think that makes a difference for her,” Michonne continued, not noticing Negan's strange reaction. Daryl noticed that there was tension between her and Negan, more than between anyone else.

Daryl glanced around each person like a tennis match, wondering who they were talking about. Should he know?

Catching his eye, Negan explained, “ Warren , Darlin’. The head of the Kids House, I hear they got closer while Rick and me were looking for you.”

The reminder of Rick's betrayal, no matter the reason, was as painful as learning about it.

“We’ll swing by,” Negan added to Rick. “Use the excuse we’re visiting Peach and Moonshine.” 

Daryl had met the horse a few days ago. His horse, covered in almost as many scars. She was mean but seemed to care for him.

Rick nodded but still didn’t look happy about it.

Chapter Text

"We should risk the train and the walkers," Rick decided.

"Nah. I can see Moonshine. I'll go first," Negan argued. "She'll have rope and I can throw it across so if you fall again—"

"Or we can do the train bridge. We can fight a few walkers."

"With six bullets and a… tree branch? That's a death sentence."

"So is this."

"This is just a bit of balance." The wind ripped through them like an omen in a bad movie. Rick lifted his eyebrows at Negan, but he wasn't wrong. He had seen at least twenty walkers on the bridge and there could have been more further down in the other cars, too many for them to handle.

"Your left leg is still fucked up from the sinkhole."

"I can walk on it just fine. Swam with it to save your ass. Besides, you can't grip the beam as well with one hand."

Rick glared at him but Negan didn't back down. "Fine. Flip a coin?"

"When was the last time you carried coins?" Negan scoffed.

"There's cars everywhere. People used to keep spare change in them."

"And waste time looking? How about enie meenie miney mo?"

The memory slammed into him like a baseball bat to the head. He had to take a deep breath and push it away. When he could focus on the here and now again, he could see the understanding and guilt flash across Negan's face.

"Sorry. I didn't think."

Rick smiled thinly, taking another moment before he could look him in the eyes again. "It's fine. Sure. That works."

"Would you feel more comfortable if you did it?"

"Sure." Rick ran through it pointing between them. “You are it… damn.” Rick glared at Negan’s knowing smirk. Understanding dawned on Rick. “ You knew .” Negan had suggested it to throw Rick off while knowing if Rick started on Negan, Negan would win. If Rick started on himself, Negan probably would have changed his mind and found a fucking coin or something.

Manipulative bastard.

"I don't know what you mean." Negan picked something up and flicked it at Rick. He caught the coin just as Negan turned to the I-beam. "Wait here, Prick. If I go down, don't come in after me. Otherwise, we'll just end up in a loop."

Rick watched, holding his breath, as Negan slid slowly onto his hands and knees, gripping the beam tightly, testing the weight. Then he started moving.

Rick shook his head to himself, this was stupid. They should wait the night or try to move the walkers instead. A small voice wondered if Negan was actually on a suicide mission.

Negan was slow, he didn't push it anymore than necessary, but he wobbled once and Rick tensed, arms jerking out as though he could catch him.

Until, finally, Negan reached the other side. He stood and turned, waving at Rick. "Told ya!" he shouted. Rick rolled his eyes.

Negan jogged to the waiting Moonshine at the other end. A minute later he came back with a rope and the nervous horse. Negan started swinging the rope above his head like a lasso and then threw some of it at Rick who pocketed the coin and caught the rope in both arms. "Tie it around your chest, under your shoulders. If you fall, I've got you." He tied the other end to Moonshine and gripped a section of it himself.

Rick sighed and did as ordered.

This was so stupid. Maybe he should go home. Judith still needed him, she couldn't walk yet. He should be there for that.

Would she ever forgive him if he gave up? Would she forgive him if he never gave up?

He would have to eventually. Daryl wouldn't want him looking out here forever and never see his family again. But Daryl searched for him for over five years.

Rick cursed under his breath and stepped onto the I-beam. It felt like it wobbled under his weight. He slowly crouched getting to his hand and knees, gripping it with his hand and leaning with his left arm. The river crashed below him and the wind felt stronger than ever.

He scooted forward, grateful for the rope around his chest, but he still went slowly knowing he shouldn't look down. Despite that, he found himself staring at an oil tanker he had walked by just a few hours ago, still slowly sinking. Likely empty of oil, still filling with water.

Then a hand was in front of his face. He looked up at Negan, standing and reaching out for him.

Rick grasped it and Negan pulled him up to his feet on solid ground.

They quickly backed up from the gap in the bridge and then laughter bubbled up from Rick's throat. Negan frowned at him, Rick tried to breathe and calm down but he looked at Negan again and started laughing.

Negan chuckled and patted his shoulder. "You good, man?"

"I'm fine," he said through bursts of giggles. "I became a cop because Shane did. He was the adrenaline junkie. Jesus fucking Christ." He stood straight taking a deep breath. "I'm good."

Negan studied him. "There's still time to go back." Rick glared at him, sobering quickly. Negan lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, last time. I promise."

"Good. Let's find Chief."

Daryl screamed as the belt buckle sliced into his skin, cutting new scars amongst his old ones.

Warm blood trickled down his back. The stench of iron thick in his nose and on his tongue.

He opened his eyes and stared at a man he didn't recognize with a scar on his cheek. He stood in the middle of the clearing, whistling that horrific two-beat whistle that haunted him.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

Daryl lifted his knife and sliced through his tongue rather than talk. He screamed through the pain but then dropped the slimy tongue on the ground and grinned through a mouthful of blood.

Triumph cut through his pain. Ha! Can’t talk now, even if he was tempted he couldn’t betray his family.

The man laughed the low deep chuckle Daryl knew from Negan but it didn’t match his younger face. He darted forwards and grabbed Daryl by the hair, lifting and dragging him. Daryl was too exhausted to fight back and just scrambled to follow where he was being dragged until he was thrown on a bed and stripped.

Negan stood above him, thick cock in his face. “Who are you?”

Daryl opened his mouth to answer but he couldn't speak without a tongue.

Pain exploded through his back again but Negan didn’t move.

“Who are you?” Negan shouted. He couldn't answer, another excruciating whip.

“Who are you?” Each word punctuated but another whip. Daryl gritted his teeth, he wouldn't cry. He would scream, but he wouldn't cry.

“Who. Are. You.”

Daryl!

Daryl woke with a gasp, shooting up in bed and couldn’t pull in a full breath, his heart beating so fast it clogged his throat. Thunder cracked through the room, and lightning lit it up briefly. His dream faded quickly. He tried to hold onto the scarred face, it felt important for some reason, but it was gone before he could.

When he finally managed to pull in a gasping breath, Daryl looked down at the still sleeping Negan, surprised he hadn’t woken. He was usually a fairly light sleeper, maybe this exhaustion was another benefit to letting Negan fuck him. Daryl slid from the bed as quietly as he could and grabbed some clothes on his way out of the room, hesitating before leaving the bandana. No one else would see his neck and he knew Negan liked to see it, if he woke it might make him less pissed if he saw his mark on Daryl.

He let himself outside, letting the rain soak his clothes and the wind cool his too hot skin. The urge to run was almost overpowering, but he didn’t go far. He sat on the stairs breathing slowly. He could feel every sharp whip in the dream. Pain he would never forget. Yet, it felt different from the dream or memory or whatever the fuck it was.

He heard the door click open and immediately wanted to defend himself. I ain't fuckin' running, was on his tongue before he saw the glass of water Negan held.

Familiarity washed through him, and he suddenly thought of a blanket on a cold night. “Want me to sit with you or fuck off?”

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I can tell you to fuck off?” he asked, scoffing then tensed, waiting for the pain.

“Always, Darlin'.” Negan kissed the top of his head and put Daryl's boots on the floor beside him. “I was going to check in on Judith and Warren soon if you want to go instead. Let me know if you don’t.” The door closed again. He glanced around to find he was alone.

Huh.

Daryl finished the glass of water and put it beside him, watching the heavy rain slowly start to fill it again. When it was full, he put on his boots, and went to the stables. It was the second largest building in Alexandria. Built on the opposite side of town near the main gate. In the far northeast corner, it pressed against the wall.

By the time he was close to it, his breathing came easier and his trembling was more cold related than because of his dream. He opened the side door to the building. A memory hit him, scavenging for wiring so they could install electric lights. He remembered a woman with the scent of the ocean telling them fire and horses did not mix. 

The lights were mostly off except for a small section near the middle where he could see Judith and a teenager around her age sat on the floor across from a larger stall. The young man had been in their house a few days ago, but left quickly when he saw Daryl coming down, he must be Warren. They were leaning against the wall with a blanket around them. Judith was asleep with her head on Warren’s shoulder. The boy held a book in one hand with large letters that looked targeted towards young children.

“Hi?” Warren whispered, putting the book down carefully next to him.

“Hey. Jus’ uh, checkin’ on Peach in the storm,” Daryl lied, eyes darting around the dark stalls. Negan brought him here once, but he couldn’t quite remember what stall she was in.

Warren raised an eyebrow. “Negan ‘n’ Rick wanted you to look that we're not having sex or somethin’?”

Daryl shrugged, not about to insult the kid’s intelligence. He had heard some of the younger ones speak and it was obvious they were smart, despite their odd speech patterns. They survived alone outside of communities, talking could get you killed and speech patterns didn't matter when it came to survival. “Yeah.”

Warren smirked. “If we was there - which we not, we’re just… y’know,” he shrugged, “friends? You was there for intense sex education Negan did. I'm scared to hurt her.”

Daryl’s stomach dropped, a feeling of embarrassment echoing through him without the memory to anchor it. He pushed away the thought of what Negan had said, or done, during that class. Deciding if it was a good thing that Warren was too afraid to try anything with Judith, although the idea he was afraid sex would hurt her made him sick and angry.

Daryl studied the boy. There was a sense of wild danger that reminded him a bit of Carl. A quiet stillness that he saw in Enid when they first arrived at Alexandria. The young adapted to this world faster than the adults. Daryl believed his word, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt Judith.

“Good.”

“Don't tell she’s slept. She'll be pissed. ‘Specially if anyone knows.”

Daryl mimed zipping his lips and glanced around the stalls to remember which Peach was in, figuring he'd actually check on her since he was already there. She was his and he wanted to get to know her again.

He approached one, trusting his instincts and glanced inside to find the scarred up mare. She was surprisingly awake and pacing her stall. “Hey girl. What's up, huh?”

“Some are scared,” Warren spoke up, “with the storm. Marjan said that’s normal.”

Daryl hummed and opened her stall, reaching out to her. She moved as though to bite him but stopped inches from his flinching hand. He couldn't lose fingers on his other hand. “Hey, yer safe, girl.”

She ducked her head and stepped a few feet forward so he was next to her side. Daryl ran his fingers through her soft mane. “I hear you brought me back. Hope that was the right decision,” he murmured against her ear. She huffed and shook her head as if to ask, Why do you doubt me ?

It was weird that he also felt betrayed by her, as though she should be in his corner the same way Rick should have been. But they both brought him back to Negan. The mention of it at dinner stirred the feelings back up and he shifted, still aching from Negan fucking him. The combination suddenly made a horrific thought come to him and he rested his head against Peach’s side to breathe through the pain.

He knew Rick would do anything to protect him. He would do the same. Rick was with Negan for two months looking for Daryl. 

Two months the community had been without Negan, but they hadn’t revolted. As though they saw Negan as a better option than whatever they could do on their own. As though they needed him.

Two months that Rick was alone with an ever increasingly upset Negan. Had Rick tried to take his place? Had Negan fucked him? Hurt him? Guilt ate at Daryl, Michonne and Negan’s tension suddenly taking on a new light. Did Daryl know that would happen? Was it finally too much that he sacrificed Rick to that fate?

Thunder boomed around them as though punctuating his thoughts. Peach neighed and pulled back, Daryl backed up giving her space. He heard Judith shout and the familiar sound of metal leaving a sheath.

“Just thunder,” Warren crooned.

Daryl glanced out to see Judith look down at her arms, breathing slowly, clenching and uncleanching her left one as the knife slid back into her prosthetic.

“Fuck. I fell asleep,” she muttered through a yawn.

“Didn't see a thing,” Daryl called out from the stall, trying to push his emotions down and act normal. He heard laughter following his shout.

“Daryl?” Judith asked.

“S’me.” He lifted his hand in a wave as he leaned over the stall door to fake a smile at the young girl. She beamed at him.

“Hey, I go back to Kid House. Check on the littles,” Warren said and Daryl turned his attention back on Peach to give them some privacy. “Cora’s with them but…”

“Of course. Go. I'll keep an eye on Violet.”

When he didn't hear movement but instead hushed whispers including the words ‘Negan said’, Daryl glanced out again to Judith glaring at Warren.

“I. Am. Fine. Go, you idiot.”

Warren sighed and nodded, glancing at Daryl almost warily before he left. Once he was gone, Daryl left Peach to sit beside Judith, pulling the blanket over his legs against the small chill. He was still wet from walking in the rain and when Warren left a wind blew in as though cutting through the heat of the stable.

“Barely seen ya, Lil Asskicker,” Daryl said carefully, unsure what ‘Negan said’ that made Warren hesitate to leave them alone.

Judith grinned and leaned against his arm. “I know. Sorry. With school, duties, PT, and Negan saying we need him or Dad with us to see you–”

“What?”

Judith winced, looking up at him through her loose hair. “Probably wasn't supposed to tell you that part.”

“Why'd he say that?” Daryl snapped even as he knew the answer: to keep him from his family.

“Overprotective still. He feels guilty as fuck about this,” she gestured at her prosthetics. “He's terrified he's going to have to do something like this again.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she looked down, hopefully missing his sick expression. “I say like I'm not scared of that too. Not because of you, but… y’know. Accidents. Sorry.” She winced again when she saw his face as he tried to school the pain he was in.

He wondered again what she understood. If Negan had ruled since she was a toddler did she know this wasn't how things should be? That people shouldn’t lose limbs because their leader was pissed off. Especially as a punishment for someone else. But without him would she even be alive? Would she be fed and happy? Were the custom prosthetics an apology to her, as though it made everything better? Or were they something he had earned for her? His own apology. “Y’know, I would take any pain from ya.”

“I know, Big Asskicker. And I know I'm just a kid, but if you wanna talk about wherever you were–”

He was saved by another crash of thunder and then a louder bang. Judith yelped and leaned into him.

“Hey, that was outside, you're okay,” Daryl murmured.

“Sorry. Fuck–”

One of the horses neighed and the rest followed, panicking sounds.

Daryl got to his feet wondering if the storm had brought a herd the horses could sense.

Judith stood beside, looking around curiously. “Can you smell smoke?” She asked softly. 

Daryl sniffed and cursed. “C'mon.” He ran to the door, slowing when he realized Judith couldn't run. He kept at her side until they were out the doors.

The night glowed red where the far end of the structure was already up in flames.

“Go! Get help, buckets of water from the water plant near the windmill. Whatever anyone can carry. I got the horses!” Daryl ordered, running back into the stables where the horses’ screams were now deafening, neighing and banging against their stall doors. The building was quickly filling with smoke.

He pulled his shirt over his mouth and ran down the hallway, opening each stall one by one.

The horses ran past him, surprisingly Peach did stop by his side, eyes rolling in fear but standing steady as though trying to get him to jump on. He smacked her rump and ordered her to go, other horses following her as though she was their leader.

He spun around checking they were all free before he ran back outside where chaos reigned. Horses ran everywhere, there was a crowd of people running towards the building. Some were wearing metal backpacks with tubes and a hose in their arms but there was no order. Negan was coming down the road at a limping sprint from their house, his face anxious. Daryl didn’t have long before he was there. Would he send him back to the house? He needed to help, Alexandria used to be his home.

The rain was suppressing it for now but the dry hay inside would catch soon, and most of the buildings were made of wood. Which meant it wouldn't take long for the fire to take over the building and spread to others. Saviors arrived first and Daryl wondered if his status as Negan’s husband would help or hurt him when he ordered them around.

“You,” he shouted at a big guy he vaguely remembered as Jerry, “grab a group, round up the horses, take ‘em somewhere safe. What is that?” he asked someone - Mark - he recognized the scarred man and mentally cursed, he should probably know but it was too late now.

“Uh– fire extinguisher? Filled with water.”

“Great. Everyone with one form a circle. Three of you inside,” he shouted at everyone around him. He saw Michonne and Rick run towards him, each wearing one of the fire extinguishers. Negan was just ahead of them but Daryl was on a roll, he knew what needed to be done and wasn’t about to stop and let Negan take over. He’d force him to change his orders. People are a resource. Maybe he would let him be useful here too.

“Rick and Michonne each lead a group.” He glanced around and saw someone he did know the name of. “Eugene, we need rakes, gotta move as much hay as we can!” The man ran off to get what was needed. “Everyone else yet gotta get buckets filled from the river and help out. Go.”

“Storm’s taken out a fence panel,” Rosita shouted, reaching his side. “By the pond. Walker got in and nearly bit David. He’s fine.”

Fuck. He couldn’t be in two places at once. He caught Negan's eye and the other man knew what he was asking.

“I got it, you keep dealing with this,” Negan offered. Daryl didn't want him near Rosita but there was too much going on, if they didn’t get the fire out soon it could end up much worse. The two ran off to deal with that as the rest continued with the fire.

“Gimmie your knife,” Daryl shouted at Rick as his friend started to pass him. Rick took one from his belt and handed it over without question before running to continue helping. Daryl lined it up on the back of his arm cast and sliced through it as carefully as he could, hissing when he touched his skin and pulled back slightly. He broke the cast open and flexed his hand, wrist, and elbow. It hurt, but it was bearable. The scars on his feet hurt more, all the damn time.

He stuck the knife in his belt, ignoring the thought he wasn’t allowed to have it, in time for Eugene to return with Princess, both holding metal rakes. “C’mon!” He took one, pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and tied it around his face as he ran back inside the stables relieved when they followed him without argument, both covering their own faces. He wondered at Eugene’s lack of hesitancy for a second, the man was a genius but a coward.

The three of them worked hard on moving the hay, making a line of dirt between the fire and everything else. Rick and Mark were inside with him, using their fire extinguishers to try and put it out. Someone rushed by with a bucket of sand to start smothering parts of it.

But the smoke was too thick, making it hard to breathe so he finally had to step out, relieved when Jackson appeared and took over for him. He watched Eugene swap with someone else. Rick followed him out after a moment.

RJ ran toward them, holding out bottles of water. “Thank you,” Daryl said through a cough.

Negan ran through the town, focused on his goal.

The storm, fire, scared horses, and people were just causing more chaos. He had heard Daryl put Jerry in charge of the animals so Negan just dodged them and kept going, following Rosita to the open section of the wall. The panel was on the ground beside them, broken. It looked as though it was cracked down the middle. It had been one that fell during the sink hole two years ago, it had seemed to be fine so they put it back. The metal must have been damaged during the fall and the ground where they had filled in the shallower part of the sinkhole was loose enough for it to come down.

He could only watch as two horses ran through the gap. Rahman and Frank were working on closing the gap with a roll of chain link. They tried to stop the terrified animals but Frank pulled Rahman out of the way at the last minute when it looked like he was going to be trampled. Forced to let the horses pass into the darkness beyond.

Negan reached them with Rosita, checking they were both uninjured. “The fire is gonna bring walkers!” Negan reminded them, having to shout above the storm that only seemed to be getting worse. “Chain link won’t be enough.”

“Just temporary since it was stored nearby, trying to put off the horses for now,” Frank explained. “We’ve lost five already, including the pregnant one. Jared is getting some wood from the storage for boards!”

Negan cursed. “Anyone gone after the horses?”

“Warren and Blake.”

“We’ll deal with that later, we need to cover the gap,” Rosita said. Negan wanted to argue but they had lived out there for so long, they could handle themselves until the morning.  He rushed forward to help pull the chain link across the fencing.

“Negan, Moonshine!” Rahman shouted.

Negan spun around to see his own horse rushing towards them. There were more around the town darting around, the movements of others making the rest panic. He held his arms out wide, trying to turn her. Moonshine darted past him, turning at the last minute away from the wall but with no reins on her Negan couldn't slow her down. She ran past Jared and Aryan carrying long planks of wood.

“It’s all we got,” Jarad said, glancing back at the horse. “Can drill them into the wall. As many as we can. Hold off the walkers.”

“It’ll have to do.” They worked quickly, but the storm was loud and the shouting louder. Negan turned the plank he held and felt it hit something, followed by a loud grunt and shout of pain.

He lifted it upright so he didn’t hit anything else and turned to see Rosita holding a hand over her face. “Shit, sorry.”

Rosita smiled thinly. “I’m fine.” She pulled her hand away and Negan saw blood being washed away by the rain.

“You need an ice pack.”

“We’re not done yet. Just look before you spin please. We all know you have a good swing,” Rosita muttered. “I’m just glad you weren’t aiming.”

Negan arched an eyebrow at her, surprised at the joke, she smirked at him and then winced and touched the cut on her lip.

“Ow. C’mon. I’ll get an ice pack when we’re done, I’ll be fine till then.”

They made quick work securing the wall. Praying it would hold against walkers, Negan ordered Frank on the wall with Jared, each with a rifle. Once they were set watching the horizon he sent Rosita to the infirmary to get checked out. Then Negan ran back to the fire, it seemed mostly under control from the outside. The building around the stables were drenched and the young children seemed to be in charge of watching for sparks. 

People were starting to try to organize to find the horses. He didn’t want Daryl outside, he hadn’t even finished healing from the last time, and there was something still wrong with him Negan couldn't figure out. The words brain damage fought to come to the forefront of his mind, and he pushed them back. Regardless of all of that he was the best tracker they had.

He stopped Brent as he was carrying an empty bucket toward the river. “Hey, can you run to my house, upstairs, furthest bedroom, on top of the set of drawers is a crossbow. The arrows are in the cabinet in the living room. Can you bring them?”

“On it!” The nine year old boy handed the bucket to Gracie and took off running in the direction of the houses.

He saw Daryl coming out of the stable, he took his handkerchief off his face, coughing lightly. More people poured out of the stable and RJ started giving them water. Princess joined them just as Daryl downed half the bottle and poured the rest over his face. With his unbandaged left arm.

“Where the fuck is your cast?” Negan snapped once he was close enough.

Daryl turned to him, eyes wide and guilty. “Cut it off. Needed my arm free to help.”

Rick and Eugene both looked at his arm as though they hadn’t noticed.

“You’ve got no goddamn respect for your own fucking health,” Negan hissed. He turned and glared at Rick, he should have at least paid enough attention to notice. He resolutely ignored the fact he would have done the same thing. “Doesn’t matter right now. Some horses got out. Violet . She’s vulnerable and walkers are going to be drawn by the fire.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “Need me to go track her?”

“Yeah. Warren and Blake are already out there, but I’m gonna send a few people out,” he glanced at Rick, technically he didn't have authority yet. They agreed to wait until Carol was back before he officially joined the council, but he had a plan and Rick nodded his agreement. “But you’re the best we got for Violet.”

“Alone?” Daryl asked, seeming shocked by that idea.

“I’ll just slow you down.”

“I’ll go out as well, but we should split up,” Rick offered. Princess nodded her agreement, only Eugene hesitated. Negan knew how he avoided the horses and mentally reassigned him to another duty, but he needed to finish this one. Eugene could contact Hilltop, they could use some Whisperers to control the herds that would be heading in this direction, drawn by the smoke and fire.

“Great. Brent is bringing your crossbow but your arm–”

“I can still load it, ‘n fire it,” Daryl admitted. Negan sighed, knowing Daryl would have strained and injured his arm practicing.

“Good,” he grumbled. Brent arrived at their side and held up the crossbow in one hand, the arrows in the other. Daryl took them, muttering a thanks. Negan pulled Daryl in for a swift kiss and placed a knife from his own belt in his palm. “Go, Darlin’. Make sure to come back this time. We’ll talk about you taking better care of yourself when you come home.”

Once Daryl was on his way to the gates, Negan found more volunteers to search for the other horses.

Daryl fired an arrow, hitting the walker through the eye, and swung the back of his crossbow into another. He was exhausted and aching. His still broken arm hurt like hell. The wound in his abdomen felt like it had come open, despite the lack of blood, just as the scars on his feet had to be ripping apart. But despite all the pain, he felt better than he had since before they met Negan, since he and Rick were chasing after Jesus and the supply van he stole.

He was outside, he was free. He was fighting, adrenaline up, doing what he knew best.

The amount of walkers drawn by the fire was making it nearly impossible to follow the horse tracks but even with the rain he found a trail of blood. He was both hoping and dreading it being Violet going into labor.

Even if it wasn’t her, it was an injured horse he needed to find and get back safe behind walls.

He glanced back towards Alexandria, glad to see the cloud of smoke starting to get lighter and kept moving, following the blood trail. Finally he heard it, loud neighing. Pained.

He ran towards the sound, finding Violet on the ground, huffing, and a walker approaching her. He lifted his crossbow, killed it, and rushed around Violet to get his arrow back. He only had a few left and figured he would be stuck until the foal was born and could move.

He could only pray Negan would understand and wouldn’t think he was running.

Chapter Text

It was thankfully easy to track down Chief. The panic in his run had left clear tracks and Rick and Negan found him in a clearing happily munching on some grass. Moonshine had whickered at him and he’d looked almost sheepishly at the mare.

With the sun setting, they decided to set up in that same clearing for the night.

“What was he like?” Negan asked from where he sat across the fire from him, “at the start.”

Rick considered his answer for a few moments, thinking of Daryl so long ago, before he said, “Younger.”

“Well, yeah. It was sixteen and some change years ago.”

Rick chuckled and explained, “The way he acted, he didn’t act like a thirty, forty year old man, he seemed so much younger. It wasn’t until after the farm that was when he started to… grow up I guess.”

Negan hummed, looking thoughtful. “Pretty common for abused kids. ‘Specially when they still live with their abuser.”

Rick clenched his jaw. Anytime he thought about Daryl’s childhood he wanted to go back in time and kill his Dad slowly. “Yeah. I saw it enough as a cop. I wanted to help, but–”

“There was only so much you could do,” Negan agreed. “It was the same as a teacher. There were kids I could see it happening, but there was nothing I could do other than report it and try to help in class.”

Silence fell over them and Rick tried to find something to say. “Nobody trusted him ‘cause of his brother ‘n,” Rick tilted his head, hating to admit to it, “the way he was. Rough, a redneck. Prejudices at the time.”

“I get it,” Negan assured him. “I came from a middle class family who would have heart attacks at the idea of me married to a man, let alone a redneck.”

Rick chuckled and continued, “Despite all of that, he helped us. Sharing medicine with T-Dog without hesitation. Looked for Carol’s daughter and almost got himself killed. Glenn,” Negan looked away at his name, “got grabbed by this group while we were tryna find Merle. Daryl stayed with us to help get Glenn back without a second thought. He stayed with us without goin’ to find Merle ‘cause of Carl ‘n Sophia.”

Negan hummed, a look of pain shooting through his face before he looked up over the fire again. “And because of you.”

Rick tilted his head in question.

“You were the only one fighting to go back for Merle on the roof.”

“He told you about that, huh?”

Negan nodded. “We’ve talked about everything. Turns out he’s got a lot to say if you’re willing to listen.”

“Then he should’ve told ya we went back for the guns, not jus’ Merle.”

“He knew you were only using that to convince the others, you’d already decided to go back. He chalks that up to when he started to fall in love with you,” Negan said with no emotion in his voice, but his eyes looked broken .

Rick blinked, shaking his head as he tried to process the words that had to be some kind of mind game. But the way Negan was staring at him held no amusement, just pain. “What?”

“You were the first person to ever see him. Trust him. Ask his opinion on shit. You’d spend whole nights on watch talking and plannin’. He loved the shit outta you, Prick.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? Me and Daryl–it’s not like that .”

“Not anymore. At least, that’s what he says.” Negan looked away, his eyes darting into the woods like he heard something. Before Rick could tense up he continued looking back at him. “I don’t think you ever fall completely out of love with a person you loved like that.”

“He’s… my brother.”

Negan chuckled. “He said… you calling him brother was one of the proudest and worst moments of his life. I was jealous as fuck of you at first, but we’ve talked about it a lot.”

Rick thought back to every moment he could remember with Daryl. That night he first called him brother was a horrible night, but Daryl would have died for them all if he thought it would save them. He tried to take the punishment for them with the Claimers. 

Rick did love Daryl, but like a brother.

Then, as he held Negan’s gaze, his astonishment faded into panic. “Why are you tellin’ me this now ? He wouldn’t want you–” Negan’s gaze dropped. “He’s alive!” Rick snapped. “You can not give up on him. You can’t.”

“Why isn’t he back yet?” Negan asked, his voice breaking.

“I was gone for years, everyone thought I was dead because I couldn’t come back.” Rick's arm tingled with heat for a second.

“Last time he couldn’t come back he was tortured for months.”

Rick sighed. “We’ll find him.”

“Maybe. This time. But one day–” Negan cleared his throat and said, “One day he’s not coming home, I’m going to outlive him and I don’t think I can handle that, Rick. I will find him, I want to… put him down and then myself if I can. Or if I’m not strong enough I’ll wander the damn Earth with him. Rotting together. If he is dead or alive, I won’t rest until I do.”

Daryl spent half a decade looking for his body, that's what Michonne told Rick. He realized he should have known then, even if he didn’t know before.

What would Daryl have done if he found him dead? It should be someone who loves them.

Did Daryl feel like Negan did? The way Rick does about Michonne, or even thought he did about Lori when they were young?

He knew Daryl cared for him, all of them. Life and death experiences created relationships that were far deeper than friendship or family, but he had never considered he meant something like that to Daryl. They would all die for each other, but to love someone enough to kill themselves after they fought so hard to live…

It didn’t change anything, even if Rick was interested in men, they were both married. And he did love Daryl, just not in the way Daryl wanted.

“We’ll find him alive,” Rick said, not allowing any argument into his voice. “We will.”

The fire was out. The storm had stopped. Sun risen. The walls were secure.

And Daryl still wasn't home.

Negan paced in front of the gate. Yumiko was on gate watch and had promised to get him when Daryl was home, but he couldn’t leave. He had to see him the second he knew he was okay.

A few other groups had returned either with an escaped horse in tow, or alone. Negan watched as Rick rode through on a horse Adam had named Spot with all the confidence of a three-year-old, despite the horse being solid brown. Unfortunately, Rick was alone.

He stopped beside Negan and climbed down as Warren jogged down the road, spotting them. He had brought another of the horses back with Blake an hour ago. “Thank you,” Rick said to the teenager who took the reins.

“Welcome.” Warren led the horse back to the stables. Half the building was gone but it was the best place to keep them for now. Jared had already begun planning the repair.

Rick leaned against the wall adjacent to the gate and watched him pace back and forth. When Negan reached him the third time, Rick said, “It's only been a few hours. You know you can't keep him inside the walls all the time.”

“I can try," Negan muttered, at Rick's look, Negan sighed. "He's still hurting. He says he's not, but it's like he's limping more.”

“I know. But he's Daryl. He's always fine.” Rick said it almost absent mindedly and it made Negan’s blood boil. No one else saw it.

“You said he was confused!”

“That was the next day, it's been a few weeks–”

“He not fine . He's come home hurt and with fucking brain damage!” Negan froze, he had been avoiding telling anyone that. He knew he should tell Daryl's family or at least the council - also his family - before they asked Daryl back to his role, but saying it out loud made it real.

“What the hell does that mean?” Rick demanded pushing off the wall. Negan glanced at Yumiko who kindly got the hint and pretended she hadn’t heard anything.

Negan shook his head and stepped closer to Rick by the wall.

“Izzy… she just theorized it. But you've seen the way he's been acting, Rick.” Trying to articulate something he could feel in his bones. He needed someone else to bear the burden with him. “He's slower, every time I ask him something it's like it takes him a few seconds to process. You know him, he's smart, quick, always ready with a witty comment, but he's acting different with everything.” He hadn't missed the confusion on Daryl's face when he wanted him on his back to have sex, the same face he made the first time.

“You saw him out there with the fire,” Rick argued. “He took charge, he was… Daryl.”

Negan heard the hesitancy, the little bit of doubt when Rick started to realize that Daryl hadn’t been acting himself. “Yeah. I also heard him ask Mark about the portable water hoses. Like he'd never seen one before.”

Rick was silent for a few moments, looking away from Negan, his fist clenched and Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to gather his thoughts. Finally, he caught Negan's eye and sighed, shoulders dropping. He reached out to squeeze Negan’s arm. "We'll figure it out, brother."

Negan smiled, every time Rick called him that it settled a little more. The first time Rick called him that was one of the best moments of his life. He cherished it right next to Daryl saying yes to marrying him.

Family.

The years since Rick had been back they started to accept each other, and Negan was happy with that level of friendship with Rick. He never expected to become family.

"Yeah," Negan agreed softly.

"But you've gotta talk to me. You can't handle this alone if Daryl doesn't heal." Rick squeezed his shoulder again. "I'll go check on everything in town and then wait with you."

"Thank you."

Violet neighed again, the sound pained as she labored. He had no idea how long this could last and prayed Negan didn't think he was running.

With nothing else to do, Daryl walked a perimeter around her on aching feet, protecting the area. The ache inside of him from Negan fucking him made him anxious. He shivered as the rain stopped and the wind brushed through the trees to his soaked clothes, the storm thankfully brought the temperature down a bit.

He knew logically it had been fifteen years, but felt like only a few weeks since he had been searching for that horse with Aaron.

Buttons.

And Aaron. Just another name. He was further down the list on the wall, had he survived long? Did Negan kill him too? Was it Daryl's fault?

Finally, he saw the hooves of the foal start to emerge. Daryl let out a breath but it was still slow going. He had never witnessed a birth before, he never really wanted to. But he couldn’t stop the smile that slid across his lips when the foal stood and took its first shaking steps. Instinct had it moving towards its mother to drink.

While waiting, Daryl fashioned a makeshift lead from Kudzu vines and his belt. As the sun rose, the foal seemed sated and Violet was walking, so Daryl tied the belt around her neck, surprised when she didn't fight it. He looked into her eyes and ran a hand down her mane seeing an intelligence behind her eyes. He wondered if she understood he had just been guarding her and wanted to take her home.

He itched to run the few miles home or as much of it as he could, but the foal was still slow, and stopped to drink from his Mom a few times. She also stopped to drink from puddles and eat to regain her strength.

It was a few hours into the morning when the gates were finally in view. They sat open and Daryl’s stomach plummeted even as he tried to pick up the pace. 

Negan had Rick pinned against the wall, Rick’s hand on his shoulder as though holding him back. They both had tight expressions on their faces and everyone was studiously ignoring them. Rick and Negan both turned their heads to look at him. Negan released Rick and started moving towards him, a smile washing the angry expression off his face. 

Daryl was transfixed by Rick. His worried expression disappeared into a relieved smile and his tense shoulders went lax. What would have happened if Daryl had taken longer? 

Negan pulled up to him and filled his vision, grabbing him and tugging him into a hug. Someone took the reins from Daryl as he tried to focus on staying relaxed and pliant. Negan released him, pulling back to look and study his face. One hand on the back of his neck, his thumb brushing over the mark on Daryl’s neck and he was glad he hadn’t covered it. Negan’s other hand landed on his waist, trapping him and showing everyone he belonged to Negan.

"You like to worry me, don't you?" He kissed him gently. "All okay?"

"Horse gave birth," Daryl muttered, not sure how else to placate Negan.

Negan chuckled and glanced at the foal walking slowly beside the horse Rick was leading away. "I got that, Darlin'." He reached down and took Daryl's hand, pulling his arm up to look at the slightly swollen limb. "You need a replacement cast." He kissed Daryl's wrist and took his other hand, releasing his broken one to lead him back inside the gates. 

They rumbled closed and Daryl hated how the comforting sound of safety sounded so much like the jail cells from the prison a few months years ago.

The infirmary was packed when they arrived. From the conversation Negan heard around them they were mostly burns, but he heard Mark complaining of a broken leg from ‘that fucking horse’.

Zoe and Izzy were both running between the beds.

Negan wanted to push Daryl to the front of the line, he deserved it, but Daryl would never accept that. The dormant leader in Negan also grumbled that triage was important and Daryl wasn’t dying, it wouldn’t be fair on anyone else if he tried.

They could wait at the back of the line but Daryl needed to be off his feet, soon. So he pulled him back. "How about we go home for a few hours, have some breakfast, and come back later? We’ve still got some poppy milk if you need it?"

"M'fi– okay." Daryl shrugged and flexed his arm and fingers.

Negan chuckled and tugged on his good arm. “Okay. Home, food, come back. But you’re getting that re-wrapped. We don’t want it healin’ wrong.”

Daryl gave him a mock salute, then flinched and dropped his arm, the movement hurting him.

Negan closed the door behind them and with the click of the handle, he felt an unsustainable urge to touch his husband, to feel him alive and breathing beneath him. He spun around and pushed Daryl into the wall, capturing his lips. Daryl gasped and stilled beneath him for a split second before kissing him back, hands drifting to his waist.

Negan pulled Daryl’s soaked shirt off him and ran a hand along his chest as it heaved for breath, pressing against him to feel his heart beating. He ducked his head, kissing down his neck, nipping and licking at his pulse point, tongue pressing to the bruise on his neck from last night.

"I was worried. You’re alive, you’re here," Negan whispered against his neck. He pulled back to look at Daryl, his husband panting already, his cock hard beneath Negan’s hips. “You came back and I didn't even have to come get you this time.” He tried to joke but it came out more breathless than he meant, the pain and worry too fresh. “I love you,” he whispered, pausing, waiting for Daryl to say it back. 

He hadn’t said it back, not since he’d been home, which wasn’t unusual. It was harder for Daryl sometimes. He showed his love in the things he did, looking after the town, and touching Negan when he could see Negan was lost in memories and surrounded by ghosts. He showed it in his kiss. But Negan needed to hear the words from him now.

Daryl stared at him, licking his lips and opened his mouth to answer, then pulled Negan in again, kissing him hard.

Negan bit back a sigh and didn’t push. He still wanted to be surrounded by him, to feel every inch of his skin.

"C'mon." He took Daryl’s good hand again and pulled, all but dragging Daryl upstairs, only letting go of him to remove another piece of clothing from one or both of them. Until he shoved him back on the bed and settled between his legs.

Negan kissed him again, feeling Daryl’s moan vibrate through his body as their cocks slid together. Negan reached for the lube left on the nightstand from the day before, covering his cock, and adjusted Daryl’s legs around his waist.

He prodded into him, cursing under his breath at how loose he still was, grateful he didn’t need to prep him. He slid into Daryl in one motion, his husband keened, pressing back against him. The slick slide was tight, but not too tight. Negan knew Daryl wouldn’t be able to walk well for a bit after this. But felt the possessive urge to change his limp, erase the cause and replace it with one more fun. Daryl’s arms tightened around Negan’s back and he pushed up, searching for more.

He thrust into him, harder, faster, panting against him. Feeling his heartbeat, his breathing. Each one meant he was alive.

"Yeah," Negan groaned, Daryl tight around him, hands touching him, stroking down his back. Negan took his good arm, holding it above Daryl’s head, kissing down his bicep.

“Mine,” he growled. “So fucking mine.”

He reached between their bodies, finding Daryl’s cock, hard and leaking, stroking him in time with his thrusts until Daryl was gasping and pushing back. The pressure building in his belly exploded and Negan pressed hard into Daryl, filling him.

Daryl ran the cloth up his belly, cleaning the cum off himself as Negan settled beside him, kissing his shoulder so sweetly . Like he didn't just drag Daryl upstairs to fuck and use. To fuck with his head and make him come despite the stretch and burn.

That was worse than being fucked. Raped. How his body betrayed him, submitted to Negan. How his first thought when Negan slid in was about how he was glad they’d fucked a few hours ago and he was still loose. That Rick wasn’t in his place. Would Negan have fucked him against the wall while the Saviors watched? Was Daryl different because he was a husband?

"I got something else for us," Negan murmured against his shoulder and then rolled over to his nightstand.

Daryl tensed, not sure if he could handle any of the toys he had seen. But he would if it killed him. 

Just me. Leave my family outta this.

Instead, he brought out a packet of cigarettes and a pack of matches and Daryl realized he hadn’t searched the other two drawers after panicking when he saw what was in the top one. The scar on his hand flashed through his mind, did he have more now? Maybe on his back, next to the whip marks.

"Just one? I finished our other pack, sorry. But, found these." He offered the packet out, the top open.

Daryl slid one from the pack, hand trembling trying to judge what he needed to do. Negan put the rest away and took out a match to light it. He locked his muscles to avoid shying away from the flame close to his face.

Daryl took a long drag to light the cigarette. If pain was finally coming he would enjoy this moment. He closed his eyes and relished in the bitter, dull taste that numbed his tongue and filled his lungs, calming his nerves despite what he suspected must be coming.

After a moment of letting him enjoy it, Negan held out his left hand with his middle finger and ring finger open. Daryl put the cigarette between them, leaving his hand outstretched for a moment before letting it fall. Waiting for the order to lie back or flip over, the cigarette to descend. His eyes locked on the motion of Negan bringing it up to his lips and his eyes closing in pure pleasure as he sucked at the smoke. Despite what was happening, and what just happened, Daryl’s cock jumped in interest followed by a sickening twist low in his gut.

How much had Negan trained him to like pain? The biting was one thing, but the cigarette, the threat of it, was still making his cock fill. Would Negan make him come while burning him?

Negan opened his eyes, catching Daryl’s. He grinned around the cigarette and took it from his mouth, placing it in Daryl’s, eyes locked on his. They were so dark and full of emotion he couldn’t place. Daryl couldn’t breathe.

After a few puffs, Negan took it back and they swapped it back and forth in a strangely comfortable yet heated silence until it was burned out. That was all, no pain. Daryl glanced at the rest of the pack nervously but Negan just put them away, “for next time.”

“Roll over and I’ll work on your shoulders and back. I know leading the horses and everything with the fire must be making you ache.” Negan reached over and pulled out the moisturizer.

Daryl rolled over and found the second Negan touched him, hands gliding in long sweeping patterns along tense muscles, that the tension melted away.

Could he be wrong? Negan had done nothing but be kind and helpful and look after him.

But he raped him.

Didn’t he?

Daryl woke to soft childish music that seemed to be out of tune with random stops and starts. Followed by cursing. For a moment, he wondered if this was Negan’s new form of torture, even worse music than that song.

He slowly sat up in the bed, his body surprisingly loose and not hurting. Negan’s massage after the cigarette had banished the knots he thought were part of his life now. Daryl didn’t even remember falling asleep.

He slid from the bed, wincing as he crouched to get his abandoned clothes. He padded out of the room barefoot, curiosity overriding fear. The worst had already happened. 

There’s always something worse.

Daryl reached the spare room. He glanced into it to see Negan sitting on the bed with a guitar over his lap. In his right hand, he was holding what looked like a prosthetic hand, one that clutched a small guitar pick.

A string pinged awkwardly, and Negan cursed under his breath.

Daryl watched him for a few minutes as he started again using the prosthetic hand rather than his own to play. As Daryl watched the other man, he realized he was enjoying himself even with the first section of the song on repeat. For these few minutes, he didn’t feel the urge to run. He found himself thinking about a church and a song he didn’t know.

You are so beautiful, to me .

“What are you doin’?” Daryl asked, interrupting the silence, surprising himself. He didn’t want to have a conversation with Negan.

Negan jumped and stared at Daryl wide-eyed for a second before smiling sheepishly. And softly. The terrifying man he had met weeks years ago was nowhere to be seen.

“Testing Judith’s birthday present. I nearly forgot we asked the guys over in Haven to make her this.” He held out the prosthetic he held. Daryl took it and inspected the small hand with a pick welded in the fingers. “It arrived with the trade yesterday. Magna brought it by an hour ago. I figured I'd try it out myself. I might be able to help her if she struggles.”

Daryl blinked and stared at the man he had apparently married, and the same feeling from the shared cigarette night before drifted over him. He wondered if he was wrong about everything. That maybe–

Then he understood.

This was because Daryl behaved. He submitted. Was this what Negan did? Reward the kids instead of Daryl. He knew it would work better than rewards for himself.

He shook away the thought and passed the prosthetic back to Negan. “That’s… real nice of ya.”

“You sound surprised. I’m the nicest man in town!” Negan winked at him. “But Christ, this is harder than I thought. Can't really feel the strings through it.”

Daryl chewed on his lip and studied the guitar and prosthetic for a moment, wracking his brain for a way to help Judith. “My crossbow is like an extension of my arm. Can feel every bit of weight. Ya add an arrow that is heavier or lighter, I can feel it right away.”

“I get that. It was like that with Lucille.” A wistful look came over him before Negan’s eyes darted to him with a wince and cleared his throat. “Sorry.” Daryl blinked, not knowing how to reply to that. “You’re saying she should wear it a lot first, get used to it?”

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “Might work. If not, can work with her to find somethin’ new. ‘N Rick might be better at helpin’ ya than me, with his arm.”

“Thank you, Darlin’. It’s worth a go because I’m having no luck.” He put the prosthetic to one side and patted the bed. “Let me play properly for you?”

Daryl sat carefully on the edge as Negan started to strum. After a moment, he started to sing a familiar song, eyes locked with Daryl's. “Every breath you take, and every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watchin' you.” Daryl did everything he could to hide the way his heart sank into his stomach despite Negan’s smile. “Every single day, and every word you say. Every game you play, every night you stay. I'll be watchin' you.”

Negan finished the song and put the guitar to the side.

"C'mon, you need to get your cast replaced."

Daryl considered his words carefully, he was given some freedom. He had to figure out how much, and he never was going to know unless he pushed.

"Can go on my own," he murmured softly, bracing himself for the pain he was starting to know wouldn't come.

Negan chuckled. "You're right. Sorry. You know I can't help but mother hen you when you're hurt."

Daryl nodded slowly. He didn't know, but he was starting to.

Negan leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Daryl sensed the pause, Negan waiting for him to say it back but how could he even fake it? The words were stuck in his throat.

Instead, he quickly left the room and the house. 

Rick resisted the urge to tap his foot as the council settled around him. Gabriel, Eugene, Michonne, and himself. They discussed the lost crops and the best way to fix the wall, resources for the stables and horses until the stables were re-built.

All Rick could think about was brain damage . Daryl could be brain damaged. Which would explain a lot, but he was also okay. When they were talking, Daryl was fine. There was just the occasional odd statement or look of confusion, but nothing that made Rick question his mental status.

“Rick?” Michonne nudged him. “You in there?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve barely said a word, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine.”

Michonne studied him. “And what do you think about Gabriel’s proposal?”

Rick smirked at her. She knew. “Sorry. Wasn’t listening,” he admitted.

Gabriel chuckled. “I asked about bringing Daryl back into these meetings, now he’s here and seems to be well. Especially given how he took charge during the fire?”

Rick nodded slowly and sighed, shaking his head. “No. Negan, he… uh, he told me yesterday that Izzy thinks Daryl might have brain damage,” Rick spoke the words quickly, just needing to get them out. “There’s no way to know for sure.”

Every council member sat up. Every member of Daryl’s family. Tense, concerned.

“Gonna need more than that,” Gabriel ordered.

“Since Daryl’s been back, he’s refused to talk about what happened. He’s been confused, slower than usual. I thought it was just him pulling away because he’s hurt, y’all know Daryl. When there’s a hint of weakness, he pulls away.” Everyone hummed their agreement. “Negan thinks it’s more.”

“And you’re saying we shouldn’t bring Daryl into the council?”

“I’m saying… not yet.”

“Just ‘cause Negan says so?”

Rick stared at Michonne and nodded. “Yeah. Because Negan said so.”

Michonne met his gaze for another moment, but backed down. “Ok. We wait a few more weeks. See how Daryl heals.”

“And if our esteemed council member attempts to load in before we’re sure his save file isn’t corrupted?” Eugene asked.

“We tell him the truth,” Rick said, “we’re waiting until he’s healed some more. He’ll be pissed, but I’ll talk to him.” He rubbed his eyes. “I had another thought, but I think we need to wait for Carol.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve not discussed replacing Ezekiel yet.” He watched the various expressions of pain cross his family’s faces. Rick was devastated to hear of Ezekiel’s cancer, and when he died, but he hadn’t known the man for very long. The rest of them had spent years with him.

To be one of the first to die of old-world illnesses made it hurt even more.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Gabriel asked.

“Negan.” Before anyone could speak, Rick quickly added, “I know. Putting him in a position of authority of the town, not just the school feels… strange. But I trust him, we’ve just spent two months together, just us. He’s–” Rick sucked at his teeth and sighed. “He deserves it, he’s worked hard. But… we should wait for Carol to get back to vote him in or out. Full council vote.”

“That vote to include Daryl?” Eugene asked.

“You don’t think he’d vote yes?”

Eugene tilted his head. “The inner workings of any marriage is outside of my expertise.”

Rick rolled his eyes, smiling, but the atmosphere was heavy around them.

Daryl glanced at the sun high in the sky, telling him he had been asleep for a few hours, and made his own way to the infirmary, slowly. 

He wasn't in a rush to get back to Negan and instead glanced around town. Some of the crops were trampled, muddy with horse tracks and the stables were half gone, but everyone was going back to normal, like this was normal. They knew how to deal with a crisis and then continue.

They were strong. The lost crops caused frustration but no panic, no desperate edge.

He let himself into the infirmary and glanced around at the few beds still occupied from the morning, but most of the people had been helped. They had cleared out and gone home or were helping the town clean up. Rosita was sitting in one of them feeding Lázaro. She looked up when someone greeted him by name. Daryl saw the side of her face was completely bruised, her lip split and a cut on her cheekbone. The whole side of her face was slightly swollen.

"What happened?" he demanded, rushing to her side.

"Negan didn't tell you? He got me good.” She chuckled. “S’my own fault, I wasn't paying attention. Didn’t know I was in his path."

Daryl clenched his fists, relishing in the pain from his broken arm. His fault. He never should have let her go with him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Rosita frowned. "Why? I told you, my own fault. With everything going on, someone was bound to get hurt. Doc’s just kept me here for observation. Gabe was in earlier, but he left for a meeting. Are you okay?”

Daryl worked his jaw, trying to calm himself down before he showed her his arm. “Cut off the cast yesterday to help. Gotta get it wrapped again.”

Rosita rolled her eyes. “Negan pissed?”

Daryl shook his head slowly. Negan had been, but then he softened. Let Daryl help and do what he was good at, go out beyond the wall.

“Daryl, you okay?” Izzy called out.

Daryl studied Rosita for another moment. “Tell me if ya need me. I’ll do anythin’. Y’know that?”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

"I've missed a few PT sessions by now," Negan said suddenly.

Rick raised his eyebrows in question. “For your leg?”

" Judith's PT sessions.” Negan rolled his eyes like his own issues weren’t important. “I've been to every one until Daryl went missing. I would have kept going, but Zoe called in reinforcements. Izzy threw me out because in her words, 'Judith doesn't need this pissy attitude, so buck up or fuck off.' Sorry." Negan didn’t add that he’d still stood outside the infirmary. When they were running through search patterns, it was the only time of day Rick knew where to find him, but he never knew why.

"Why are you sorry?"

"You told me to go to them all."

Rick blinked and then remembered. The desperate middle-of-the-night order to keep Negan from leaving.

"Oh. I thought you were just there because it's what she wanted." Judith’s insistence on Negan being there was a point of contention in their household, although Rick only cared that Judith tried. Her depression from the beginning still woke him up in a cold sweat more than any other dream.

"That and your order."

"I forgot." Rick smiled sheepishly.

"You… forgot ?"

Rick shrugged. "I didn't actually care if you went to all of them. Or any more than what she wanted. I just didn't want you to leave."

Negan smiled at him. "I didn't know you cared."

Rick handed him the bottle of water. "I did then and I do now."

"I want just Negan!" Judith shouted as the specialist from Haven visited to fit her prosthetics. Negan carefully didn't move from where he was next to her bed, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to make this easier.

"Sweetheart, I'm here," Michonne tried, running a hand through her hair gently.

"No! Negan. Just him, go away go away GO AWAY!" She screamed the last go away. Rick took Michonne's arm and pulled her out of the infirmary. Negan morphed his features into a careful smile and took Judith's hand. The one he didn't cut off.

"They're just trying to help you, Jude."

"They can't help me!"

"Neither can I." He was the reason she was there at all.

"Don't care. Want you here." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Negan couldn't understand it, she should hate him. But she pulled strength from him. Her words ‘ Negan is strong. Negan is a survivor. I am Negan.' kept him rooted to the spot. He would give her every ounce of strength he had.

"I'm not leaving, kid. Even if you throw me out too. I'll be outside that damn door, you got that?" He could never make this right, but he could be there for the consequences. She wouldn’t suffer alone.

She leaned against him and Negan wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You ready?"

Judith nodded and turned to the specialist who had been politely waiting at the side of the room, likely used to this. "Fine."

"Sorry," Negan said to him. "Tell us about her bad ass pirate options."

The specialist smiled quizzically, mouthing pirate? Negan shook his head telling him not to question it.

"Not a problem. These should fit perfectly,” the specialist said, Negan realized he should learn his name, “but I'm here for the next few weeks to adjust them as you need. You say you’re fifteen, correct?"

“Yeah.” Judith straightened some, clutching the stuffed parrot Negan had found for her.

“Perfect. You shouldn’t grow much more, with the correct maintenance, these should last you years. I’ll show you how to maintain them while I’m here.”

Negan wondered what they owed Haven for this, he made a note to ask Rick. He would work until he paid it off, it shouldn’t be Alexandria’s debt to bear, it was his.

"Step, down, up, down," Zoe ordered. Judith held Negan's hand as she stepped up and down from the step stool.

She was sweating from the effort and the early summer heat, but kept going. Negan had seen how much she would push herself and watched Zoe for hints. She had been working so closely with her that the doctor would know when Judith had really done too much. With her birthday in just a few days, she was pushing herself harder to be able to stand and dance. “It’s my sixteenth! It’s important right? Sweet Sixteen or something?”

She had a PT session every other day, at sunrise, and Negan was at every single one again. Just as he was before Daryl went missing. It had recently been moved to the living room of the Grimes’ house, the equipment was stored in the cupboard tucked under the stairs to keep the infirmary free.

"Fantastic, Judith. Stop there," Zoe said.

"I can do more." Judith took another step.

"And miss your arm training before school?"

Judith stepped back down and stumbled, cursing. Negan caught her easily. She smiled sheepishly up at him. "Thanks."

He rolled his eyes smiling back at her. Most of the time he couldn't help much with these exercises so he sat at the side of the room beside Michonne or Rick to watch her. It was with Michonne today, Rick off catching up on his own duties within the town. She glanced at him, the distaste clear in her eyes. She still blamed him and he couldn't be upset, he did too. He understood her anger when Judith wanted him to help more than her, but he wasn't going to argue with Judith. Not when she was trying so hard.

As he watched, his mind drifted as it often did to his husband.

He had been back for over a month and nothing had changed yet. He was clearly desperate to get out beyond the walls. But with his arm in a cast, it was too dangerous outside of an emergency. They both knew it. Instead, he went for daily walks, with Dog tagging along most of the time. He knew they must miss each other, and Dog had come to stay with them but most nights he opted to stay with Judith, it was like he had to guard her from any other injuries and Negan loved him for it.

Daryl’s cast was coming off today. Daryl was going to the infirmary this morning for Zoe to cut it off, safer than he did with Rick’s knife.

He wished he could say they were back to normal but there was still something between them. Something missing Negan couldn't figure out.

They were getting back into their usual routine, except Daryl stayed in the house or walked the town rather than hunting.

And they didn't talk.

The evenings were spent in a strained silence Negan couldn't break. All he got from Daryl were grunts and mutters. The sex was the same, it was always good. But Daryl was less into it than he used to be, sometimes Negan wondered if he still wanted it. From him.

But a few days ago he had seen Daryl and Rick talking, close together, their voices low. Daryl staring at Rick, his eyes bright and– the same way he used to look at Negan. With Rick, Daryl was different. He was more himself. He laughed and smiled, he didn’t flinch when Rick touched him. Or hold himself rigid like he was controlling his reaction.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he saw them like that.

"Oh, Negan!" Judith spoke up. Negan pushed away his thoughts and arched an eyebrow at her. She had moved on to working her prosthetic arm, lifting a weight up and down, breathing heavily as she strained in a rhythm. "Can you take me swimming?"

Negan frowned. "What?"

"Zoe said swimming would be great strength training.” The doctor nodded absent-mindedly in agreement, watching Judith’s form. “Plus, I need to learn how to swim again for my birthday party. Figure out how to use my new arm and leg for when I can go out again. Can you go with me to the pond?"

Negan bit back a sigh, she was so determined to go back outside the walls, he knew how much Rick was dreading that day. But how could they break that hope? It was the reason she was working so hard to get strong again. If she thought she'd never leave the walls again, the depression would take over again, just as it had before Christmas.

"Yeah, Jude, we can practice." Maybe he could convince Daryl to join in, his cast would be off. It would be a good way for him to strengthen his arm again. He glanced at Michonne and then asked, "Shouldn't you ask Rick? He's got a better understanding of swimming without a hand."

"He’s been taking me, so has Mom. But I need to go more. Only a few days till my birthday, I need to practice! So I’ve got you, Mom, Dad… Daryl?"

Negan had discussed Daryl's head injury with Izzy, but all he got was "give him time."

"Daryl can join us."

"I mean once he's out of his cast." Judith put the weight down heavily and stretched both arms out and lifted them above her head then brought them back down in an arch. "He's been fine. I can't avoid him alone forever."

"He's not… fine." But Negan had thought about bringing the weapons back. He saw Daryl look wistfully at the cabinet occasionally. He was just waiting for Daryl to ask, to argue, or to talk to him. To do something other than follow Negan like he was following orders.

"He's getting there," Negan said eventually. "But he can come with us for now. His cast is coming off today so it’ll probably be good way for him to strengthen his arm again."

Zoe nodded her agreement. “I’ll need to work out a PT regiment for him too.”

Judith sighed and repeated the same arm movement.

Daryl flexed his arm as he walked the town with Dog trotting slowly beside him. It felt strange and cold without the cast on it despite the warm sun shining on him, but it didn’t hurt to move. He just needed to know if he could load and use his crossbow with it. Tomorrow would be the soonest he could try it as soon as Negan left for work knowing he’d have at least an hour from then.

Daryl walked the perimeter of the town, studying and learning and searching his memory. Sometimes it worked, sometimes he saw flashes, Judith walking around the town with all her limbs, sitting beside a younger version of her at the water bridge. Or laughing with Negan as they walked hand in hand through the town. He also remembered walking away from him, pissed off at the gate.

He remembered searching down a river, but he didn't know what he was looking for.

Nothing helpful. Nothing that made sense.

"Well, hey there, Darlin'."

Daryl's stomach clenched, he looked up at Negan and forced himself to smile. Negan liked it when he smiled. He’d only wandered this close to the school because he thought Negan would be inside teaching class, he needed to figure out his schedule.

"Came home for lunch to find you gone," Negan commented, taking a bite of the sandwich he held.

"Just walkin'." He shrugged, relieved his shoulder pain had finally faded to a dull ache along with every other soreness that consistently dragged at him. Except for his feet, the only time they didn’t bother him were the few hours after Negan rubbed them.

“All okay at the infirmary?” Negan asked, reaching out to his left arm. When Daryl let him take his hand, Negan lifted it to look it over.

Daryl grunted in answer. “She gave me a couple’a exercises to strengthen the muscle a bit.”

“Great. Judith wants to go swimming as well, figured you could join, that’d be good for you.”

Daryl hummed, not knowing how to respond. 

Negan smirked and glanced around. “Go find Judith,” Negan ordered Dog who paused for a moment, rubbing head face against Daryl’s hand like he didn’t want to leave him in this danger but after Negan’s whistle, he left. Negan tugged Daryl's hand and led him into the side door. It was cooler inside, the building built to disburse heat, but Daryl had the brief thought of missing air conditioning. "Wanna make out in a closet like a couple'a teenagers?" Negan asked lowly.

He hated when Negan asked permission, as though he could say no. It was just another mind game.

He just hummed and let Negan lead him down the hallway.

They opened a door and froze at the sight of two teenagers. A blonde girl Daryl thought was called Gracie, and a brunette girl he didn't know the name of. The two girls leapt away from each other, with sheepish smiles on swollen lips and reddened cheeks.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in class?" Negan asked, his voice stern. Daryl expected more malice, but his tone was firm and controlled.

"Yes, Mr Dixon! Sorry, Mr Dixon." They both chorused and rushed past them.

Only once they were out of earshot did Negan lose his stern frown and laugh. "God, actual teenagers making out in closets again. Sometimes it does feel like the past is coming back. How about my office instead? Less chance of being caught."

"Sure," Daryl muttered. Negan grinned and took his hand again, leading him up to the second floor and a room not far from the stairs. The office was spacious with a large couch and a smaller chair opposite it. The desk was a respectable size, simple wood not like the enormous extravagant thing Daryl had pictured.

Negan closed the door and pushed Daryl against it, kissing him hard. "Y'know, I've got the lube in my drawer from last time."

Daryl's stomach dropped. A make-out session was okay, but he didn't want to be fucked again. Negan was insatiable, he was always up for it, always wanting to fuck. He was just grateful Negan hadn’t suggested using any of the toys yet.

He couldn't think of a reason to say no. So, Daryl kissed him back, listening to Negan’s quiet moans as the other man licked into his mouth. Negan pulled at his waist, backing them towards the desk, only letting go of him to open the drawer. Daryl glanced at it and saw some stacks of paper, one with Negan's name on the back in familiar handwriting. 

Negan just took out another one of those pots of pale green lube, then closed the drawer before Daryl could figure out whose handwriting it was. Another memory slammed into him instead.

Negan kissed him slowly, trailing down his neck. "God, I've missed you. It's been too damn long."

"You've been busy," Daryl replied as his hands drifted down to Negan's belt, opening his pants and sliding his hands to the cock waiting underneath. Negan groaned, hips rocking into his palm. "I get it, been busy too," Daryl said, stroking at the cock tenting his underwear, chuckling when Negan groaned. "Brought lube though."

"Fuck." Negan's hips twitched towards him. "Couch or—"

"Bend me over the goddamn desk, Darlin’ ," Daryl said teasingly.

" Fuck. " Negan moved him in one quick motion, shoving him down hard enough his head bounced off the desk. "Fuck." Negan pulled him back up. Daryl blinked and rubbed at the new pain on his temple. "Sorry, you okay?"

"M'fine."

"You sure?"

"Sure enough I still want you to fuck me."

Negan groaned and kissed him hard then kissed the spot he hit gently. "God. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Daryl chuckled. "I love you. I'd also love your dick in me."

He turned and laid over the desk, smirking when he felt Negan's hands on his ass and sliding to his waist.

Daryl's head spun, the memory making no sense. The way he had been acting was so different, intimate. He seemed like he wanted it… unless it was a game, a way to make Negan happy. But the emotions that came with the memory felt light and playful, if a bit desperate.

It felt more and more like he was grasping at straws, trying to see a monster that didn’t appear to be there.

"Hey, you good?" Negan asked softly, pushing at his chin to make Daryl look up at him.

Testing the waters, Daryl said, "Jus' thinkin' 'bout… last time here."

Negan grinned. "God, that was fun. After I nearly knocked you out of course."

"Didn't hurt. Much." He forced his left hand into a fist to feel the slight ache that was still there and stop his other hand from shaking as he reached for Negan's belt. It wouldn’t be enough soon, the bone healing too much to anchor him.

The memory told him one thing, Negan liked it when he initiated and talked dirty to him. Daryl slid his hand into Negan's pants, pushing his pants down just enough he could stroke him slowly. 

"Oh fuck." Negan rocked his hips into Daryl's hand, his eyes rolled back. "Yes, Darlin'. Fuck— like that."

Daryl twisted his palm slightly and Negan cursed. Feeling like he was going to be sick just saying it, Daryl leaned in and said, "fuck me."

Negan's hips jerked. "Yes. Turn around, Darlin'." Daryl let go of his cock with a slow slide of his hand and turned to the desk. Negan slid a hand up his back, cupping the back of his neck, and pushed him down, slowly. Then squeezed his ass, before going to his waistband and tugging pulling his pants and boxers down. Daryl heard the popping of the lid and a finger slid down the crack of his ass.

The knock came suddenly and urgently. Both of them jumped and Negan's hand retreated. "Mr Dixon? You in there?" a young voice asked.

"Yeah. One second," Negan shouted. Daryl stood, pulling his pants up as Negan tucked his cock away. “Always something,” he muttered.

They knocked again. "Mr Dixon!"

"I said one second!"

Negan wiped his hand on his jeans and then opened the door a fraction. "What?" He spat at the teen on the other side, sending a shiver of fear down Daryl’s back.

"Cora's waters broke."

"Oh shit." Negan's demeanor changed instantly, he stood taller and worry crossed his face. "Has anyone taken her to the infirmary?"

"Yeah, Mrs Andrews is taking her now. She asked for you."

"I'll meet her there in a few minutes."

The boy nodded and rushed away. Negan closed the door and turned back to Daryl, face twisted with concern. "She's a month early. So was Rosita, but—" he swallowed and shook his head. "I gotta go. I don't know when I'll be home. You good?"

"Yeah. Can make my own way—" home "— back."

Negan darted forward to kiss him again. "I love you."

Daryl looked away from him, hearing Negan's sigh before the man left. He was going to have to say it back eventually, but something about saying the words when he didn't mean them to Negan made him feel sick.

Daryl waited a few minutes and figured he wouldn't get a better opportunity.

He opened the drawer and glanced at the letter he had seen with familiar writing and realized why it was familiar. It was Carl's. Daryl snatched it up, careful not to rip it, and noticed another thicker letter beneath it. Carl’s letter took priority.

Negan,

This is Carl. I was helping someone. I got bit. We didn't even have to be doing what we were doing. I was just helping someone and now I'm gone.

You might be gone. Maybe my dad made your people give you up and he killed you — but I don't think so. I think you're still around and you're working on a way out. Maybe you got out. Maybe you think we're a lost cause and you just want to kill all of us.

I think you think you have to be who you are. I just wonder if this is what you wanted. I wanted to ask you. I wish I could have.

Maybe you'll beat us. And if you do, there'll just be someone else to fight. The way out is working together. It's forgiveness. It's believing that it doesn't have to be a fight anymore. Because it doesn't. 

I hope my dad offers you peace. I hope you take it. I hope everything can change. It did for me.

Start over. You still can.

Carl

Daryl read the letter three times trying to understand.

Carl was bit, not killed by Negan. A simple, common death. But why would he write Negan a letter? Rick could have offered peace? Carl’s letter to him came to his mind. He’d read it more times than he could count over the last few weeks. What did Daryl do that wasn’t his fault, if it wasn’t Carl’s death?

Did Negan take the offered peace?

Was it offered?

Was this— this relationship marriage a choice made after the peace? Or was it part of the bargain?

He read it once more and then carefully put the letter on the desk and reached for the other one hoping for more answers.

Negan,

When I saw you yesterday - I haven’t felt that safe in over a decade. The Alexandrians never understood what you were doing, they didn’t see Sanctuary before you took over. You saved me, and so many other people. You’ve never flinched away from doing what you needed to. 

When they captured you we wanted to save you. I want you to know that. So many of us sat together and tried to figure out how to take you back. But the Alexandrians, and their leader Rick? They killed all those people. We just aren’t brave. We survived because of you, but in the end, we chose to run.

I have never forgiven myself for that.

You gave me a safe place when the world was full of monsters. You made the monsters guard us and turned them against the dead. I never thought the monsters would win. I feel like a kid sometimes when I think to back then. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be able to keep slaying dragons and

The door opened. Daryl tried to hide the letter but it was too late. Negan stood in the doorway, his mouth was open ready to speak but his eyes drifted to the letter and narrowed. The anger that crossed his face sent a shiver down Daryl’s spine, the urge to grip a weapon was nearly impossible to ignore.

"What are you doing?" There was no kindness in his voice, making it almost alien compared to the gentle one Daryl had been living with.

Daryl just stared at him, his mind blank, unable to think of an excuse for something that must be out of bounds.

Negan ran to the infirmary, just in time to see Zoe examining Cora's pregnant belly, with a carefully neutral face. Warren was sitting on the bed behind Cora, holding her hands.

"He gonna be good?" Cora asked panting.

Zoe put on a smile Negan saw right through. "We're going to work together and do everything we can."

Negan approached them, leaning down to kiss Cora’s forehead and ruffle Warren’s hair. "Let me talk to Zoe, okay?" He put his hand on Zoe's shoulder and led her away from the bed. "What's going on?" he asked in a low tone.

"Baby's breech."

Negan cursed. "C-section?"

"That could be more dangerous. It's possible to give birth breech. It’s what they did before c-sections were commonplace, but I've never—"

"Has Izzy?"

"No. Eugene's on the radio now to Oceanside now to speak to the midwife there, but this isn't going to be a simple one."

"What do you need?"

Zoe worked her jaw and looked him in the eye. "Blood. She's B negative according to our file. We don't have any others in town. There's one in Hilltop but they might not get here fast enough."

"You need Daryl?"

"If he's willing."

"Of course. He always is.” Unless something else had changed. “I'll get him." He went back to Cora and squeezed her forearm. "Hey, Darlin'. Imma be right back, okay?"

"No.” She sobbed, squeezing her eyes closed as another contraction hit her. She writhed and cried out. Negan stayed until it was over.

“I’m getting Daryl, okay? He can help. I won’t be long.” He lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. "I'll be right back. Warren’s got you until then."

He left the infirmary and sprinted home. "Daryl?! You home?" No answer. Negan cursed under his breath and sprinted back to the school, his left leg burning. He hoped Daryl had decided to nap on the couch in his office or stopped to talk to someone near the school. Searching town would take time he wasn’t sure they had.

He opened his office door and froze. Daryl was sitting on his office chair reading his letter from Brooke. Anger like he had never felt towards Daryl surged. He gripped the doorway and tried to reign it in.

"Do you want to read the letter?” Negan asked through a yawn. He would let Daryl if he asked but a part of him hoped Daryl didn't ask.

“Only if you want me to,” Daryl replied, his voice filled with sleep.

Negan chewed on his lip, the words stuck in his throat. Daryl's body relaxed beneath his own, falling asleep without pushing.

When the school was built, he took the letter there, keeping it for when he felt low or needed motivation. He never felt like he needed to hide it from Daryl. He trusted him not to read it, or to ask if he was going to.

He could see Carl's letter beside him. Judith had given it to him not long after he and Daryl returned to Alexandria years ago. Telling him she had kept it safe beside her own letter from her brother.

"What are you doing?" He asked flatly.

Daryl stared at him, guilt shining in his eyes and then looked away, no explanation.

Negan wanted to shout and demand an answer, but they didn't have time.

"Doesn't matter right now. Need you in the infirmary."

Daryl's eyebrows pulled together. "Me?"

"You okay to donate your blood still?"

Daryl frowned. "My blood?"

"Yeah. Cora is B negative. We don't have any direct matches and the baby's breech. Might need you. Can you?"

"Uh— Yeah, sure."

"Good." Negan snatched the letter from Daryl's hands and Carl's letter, putting them back in his drawer, before storming from the room.

Screams rang in his ears still.

Negan had Judith’s leg pinned, his left hand on her knee forcing it down and flat. The other hand was raising a bloody axe. Rick was slumped, being held back by a large stoic Savior, Jerry, with devastation in his face. Negan’s face was hard and set, focused. It came down for what must have been the second time.

“NO!” Michonne lunged past him and Daryl grabbed her. She needed to stay back, stopping Negan now would be worse.

Negan was covered in blood, holding Cora’s leg as Izzy found the bleeding and stitched her.

Izzy had wanted to do a C-section but they didn’t have the right medication to numb her enough, so after a short argument, the two doctors opted to have her give birth naturally. Daryl watched in wonder, he was at Cora’s head but he could see the baby hanging out of her, everyone breathing slowly.

When the baby was finally born, the room was silent. Izzy rubbed his back and the tiny wail was like the room filled with air again. They all breathed out.

But then Cora started bleeding heavily.

“Zoe, hook up Daryl’s blood now,” Izzy ordered.

The baby was crying and Zoe was checking her over, Warren close by her side.

Cora’s head lulled, in and out of consciousness. She said something, Negan leaned in asking her to repeat it. Then smiled and nodded. “He’s okay.” Then louder, “That’s right, Zo? Baby’s okay?” Zoe hesitated. “Zoe?” Negan demanded dangerously.

“He’s… gorgeous. He’s okay. It’s just–”

“What?” Negan ran his hand over Cora’s hair, the girl coming back to consciousness again, eyes darting around.

“He’s– it’s– he is a she. And she’s got a bifold uvula.”

“What mean?” Cora asked Negan.

“No idea, sweetheart. Zoe?”

“Could be nothing. But it could mean he’s got a minor cleft palate… I can’t tell.”

Cora looked up at him with scared eyes and Negan smiled down at her. “Doc’s just checking him really well. If there’s an issue we’ll handle it okay? I’ll be right here.”

“Okay.” Cora leaned into him, wincing as Izzy continued to stitch her.

Daryl sat silent, squeezing the ball Zoe had given him as he donated blood. Memories flashed through his mind. Judith bleeding. Negan bleeding. Judith screaming, Negan going to her, keeping her quiet.

Daryl's head was reeling, he was exhausted from donating so much blood. But the baby was okay. Cora was asleep and Warren was with her. Negan promised to come back the next morning. He helped Daryl to the couch and then walked away, the silence that had been following them expanded in his wake.

Daryl wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure how to. He almost wanted Negan to beat him, at least that he knew how to handle.

Instead, Negan handed him a glass of water, a packet of jerky, and a can of peaches. “I don’t have the energy to cook but you need to eat,” Negan told him flatly.

Daryl took out a piece of jerky that tasted like leather. He chewed it as he desperately tried to think of a reason he was snooping and reading letters he figured he wasn't supposed to, but he couldn't think of any other than, 'I saw them and I was curious.'

“I'm going to sleep in the spare room tonight,” Negan said suddenly.

Daryl frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"It's been a stressful day," Negan said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "We can't talk about it right now with you having lost the blood you have, and I'm— pissed, Daryl. So, I'm going to sleep in the spare room and we can talk tomorrow. Call out if you need me."

Daryl watched him walk upstairs, shoulders hunched together, defeated.

Daryl stood in a cold Church watching Negan walk out, crowbar held over his shoulders. His head held high until a second before the doors closed completely and his head dropped, his shoulders hunched together, defeated.

Chapter Text

"Negan!" Janine greeted cheerfully, rushing over, arms extended. Negan accepted the hug, melting into her for a moment before he stepped back, stilling himself again. Rick stayed back, smiling at the two people who reunited at the end of the world. "Still no Daryl?" Janine asked.

Negan shook his head. "We're looking for him. Right now we're just traveling and looking for a lead. Has anyone here heard anything since I spoke to you on the radio?"

"No. I'm sorry."

Rick sighed but neither of them were surprised.

"Didn't think you would have," Negan said stiffly. "We were also hoping for a bed for a night or two, rest the horses, and get some sleep behind walls. Willing to pay our way."

"Of course. I'll have to check with the elders, but you're a trusted trade partner. Come on in." She nodded at the man guarding the gate who relaxed, letting her lead them through the large gates into the fields beyond.

Rick glanced along the horizon, along the fields full of animals. Cows and sheep grazed in the fields to his left, horses to his right along with stables twice the size of theirs. A large house was in the distance, surrounded by fields of growing vegetables. He spotted some trellis in the distance, shoots of what looked like peas crawling up them.

It was what he imagined the Greene farm could have been if they worked together and built real walls early on.

If Shane worked with them rather than against them.

"Nick!" Janine shouted at a young boy who was in the field, feeding and talking to one of the horses. He looked over, patted the horse, and jogged to them, jumping over the small fence. "Two horses, can you feed 'em 'n find them a spot for the night? Get Georgia to look them over? They've been traveling a while."

The boy, Nick, was a little older than Judith. His left arm hand was gone. In its place was a prosthetic, a simple hook that looked like it could easily be replaced by a knife.

"Sure. Welcome to Boone Ranch," he said in greeting. He held his other hand out for the reins. 

Rick handed Cheif’s over, and then looked at Moonshine. She barely warmed up to him in the weeks they’d been traveling. “Watch the red mare. Moonshine is wily.” 

The boy nodded and took her reins with more care. Rick watched as he led them towards a gate in the fence, Moonshine behaving like she was set on proving him wrong. Maybe she was in a better mood knowing a comfy stall awaited her. Rick pushed away the urge to know exactly where they were going. He had to trust their trade partners, even if there were ex-Saviors here.

He couldn't resist asking, "Georgia?"

"Our vet," Janine explained. "She's been training Nick."

Rick hummed and glanced at Negan who nodded his agreement to the silent question.

"We know people that can make better prosthetics," Rick suggested, speaking carefully not knowing if Haven and Boone Ranch knew of each other. "They don't ask for much in return, the materials and some basic trade."

Janine glanced around at him, lips pursed. "I can bring it up to the elders. If you'd be willing to get us in touch with them, we have a few people that could use better prosthetics. We do what we can."

Rick nodded. "Of course. We would have to speak to them too."

As they walked, Negan and Janine talked quietly, Rick stayed back and let them catch up. “You're lucky you made it unscathed,” Janine said suddenly, glancing back to keep Rick in the conversation. “When you leave will send you with a group for a few miles.”

“Why?” Rick asked.

“Some sort of wild animal, we're not sure what. One of our people was attacked in the winter, clearly wild animals not walkers given the bite size.”

“Bear? Wolf?” Negan asked.

Janie shook her head. “Not a bear but otherwise we're not sure. Big whatever it is. There was a zoo here before. Some animal sanctuary.”

Negan caught Rick's eye but Rick refused to believe what he was thinking. Daryl shouldn't have come down this far to be attacked by a wild animal.

"Negan?" They turned at the voice to see an older man in his seventies approaching them.

"James? Fuck." Negan jogged the last few yards between them, wrapping the man in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" James asked Negan, looking him up and down. "Since Cat and Brit said you weren't a prisoner no more, thought you'd be down to visit."

"I meant to, man. I'm sorry. Shit gets busy."

"What, taking them over again?" James smirked.

Rick cleared his throat and Negan turned to him rolling his eyes. "He's joking, Prick."

"I'm not,” the man argued, giving Rick a hard look.

Negan elbowed him in the side. "James, this is Rick Grimes."

"Ah, shit." James smiled sheepishly and held out a hand to him, Rick shook it. "James Starr. I was Negan's food tester back in the good ol' days."

" You had a food tester ?" Rick asked, exasperated.

"I had people that wanted to kill me. Of course, I had a food tester. James volunteered, I didn't make anyone do it, Prick," Negan added defensively.

Rick held up his hands. "Never said you did."

"You might want to keep your name a bit quiet around here though," James added in a conspirative whisper. "A lot of us have made our way here over the years. Most of us ain't fighters. Just good folk that didn't wanna be ruled by our usurper, but we're still survivors. If you know what I mean?"

"Is that a threat?" Rick asked tersely.

"Not from me. Just a warning."

"He's under my protection while he's here.” Negan’s voice turned firm. “We are no longer enemies and I expect Rick to be treated as one of mine."

Rick studied Negan, how he stood taller, his demeanor changing in an instant.

A leader.

Daryl thought he'd sleep better having the bed to himself. Instead, he tossed and turned, guilt gnawing at him for reasons he couldn't understand. If he had expected them to sleep separately then being kicked to the couch felt appropriate, his dad had spent a night or two on the couch when he pissed off Mom. Being given the main room when Negan went to the spare room made no sense. Unless he was worried about Daryl leaving. He felt like he should do something to fix this. He wracked his memory, what was he supposed to do if he fucked up? How did he make it better?

The biggest concern was what was Negan going to do? Last time, he killed Glenn. But now, Daryl didn't just anger Negan, he hurt him. The emotion was clear in his face even as he pushed it down to focus on other tasks.

He listened for footsteps, confused when he heard Negan snap, "fuck off" but he hadn't heard anyone else come into the house so wondered if Negan was dreaming.

As the sun rose, he heard a firm tread down the hallway. Negan came into the bedroom but didn't look at him.

"I'm going to check on Cora," he spoke tersely as he found clean clothes for the day. "Then I have class. I'll see you later."

The front door shut a moment later, and Daryl sighed and figured he might as well get up. He took a quick shower, scrubbing at the newly revealed skin on his arm. Then carefully dressed, using his newly freed hand despite it aching already from the strain. 

The crossbow mocked him, his plan to try and practice with the arrows when he was left alone suddenly felt too dangerous. The house echoed strangely as he moved around it, feeling more lonely and ominous than it had in weeks. 

In the kitchen, he stared at the bread on the counter. Negan usually made them eggs and toast for breakfast. Was he allowed to eat without Negan cooking for him?

Negan seemed concerned about him whenever he did something detrimental to his health. He should eat. Negan would be angrier if he didn't eat.

Eventually, he toasted a couple of slices and cooked up some eggs. As he ate, he stared at the curtains in the living room. The window had a view to the other houses around them, but the curtains that framed it gave him a strange sense of guilt.

Daryl couldn’t stand the tension and took an arrow from the cabinet, something easy to hide if Negan got back before he could return it. He practiced loading and unloading his crossbow, his left arm aching, and it was harder with two fingers missing, but he could do it. His self-assigned task for the day complete, and arrow carefully returned, he waited and found himself staring at the door. 

Negan usually came back around now for lunch. 

As time passed, Daryl was once again left with the dilemma: was this a punishment or was he expected to feed himself? Rather than risk it, he decided to go on a walk.

He went every day, it was important that he get used to the pain in his feet that never faded. Get stronger again. And maybe if he ignored the incident, Negan would too

Negan tossed and turned in the too-small spare bed, a twin bed that usually housed one of the kids. It wasn't meant for him. He shouldn't need it, he should be sleeping beside his husband.

But he couldn't be near Daryl right now. The sound of blades being sharpened in the corner was almost soothing if he ignored the muttering of the Croat as he prepared them.

"Who was he prying for? They are coming for you, Buraz, trying to find your weakness and exploit it," Croat grumbled, getting louder when he addressed Negan directly. "They wish to know your power base, those who would stand with you if you call. We need to know who he is reporting to. I will get it from him."

He tried to remember if Daryl ever actively promised not to read it. But Negan had asked if he wanted to, he had given him the opportunity, and wouldn't have been mad if Daryl had wanted to read it then.

Now? After a few years?

He couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time Daryl had read it. Or the letter from Carl?

He'd pushed it to the back of his mind, he had held Cora while she struggled to give birth to a breech baby. A C-section was too risky, but Cora had torn and then hemorrhaged after the birth.

Izzy quickly repaired the damage, but Daryl didn't move from his spot, giving her all the blood he could spare. He kept trying to look at Negan, but Negan couldn't bring himself to look back.

He wanted to go to their room to Daryl and ask what happened, why would he read it? But he didn't trust himself to keep hold of his temper right now, so he stayed in bed. Listening to the Croat alternate between ranting about betrayers and grumbling about spies. He didn't engage when the Croat tried to talk to him, wishing he could curl up with his husband and banish the ghost.

He couldn't help telling Simon to fuck off when he appeared and started arguing with the Croat.

Finally, the sun rose and lightened the room, although his temper remained dark and mind troubled. His lack of sleep made his head pound. He was no closer to answers or a solution for how to deal with the feeling of betrayal he was left with. But the sun meant it was time to get up. He got out of bed and went to his bedroom to find some clothes for the day.

Daryl immediately sat up, like he had been waiting for him to come. But Negan couldn't look at him as he found clean clothes and told him where he was going.

As he walked to the school, he saw Rick and Judith leaving their house, heading towards the main road. Rick carried two towels. The pond then, Negan realized. They were walking slowly, but they were both smiling and laughing. After everything, their relationship was the best it had ever been.

Seeming to sense eyes on him, Rick glanced around and smiled when he saw Negan and lifted his human hand in a wave.

Negan waved back and turned to keep going to the infirmary, but Judith shouted his name. He jogged to catch up.

"I heard Cora gave birth yesterday. Is she okay?" Rick asked.

"It's a girl! The ultrasound got it wrong. But she’s got a cleft palate, it’s only small. Zoe thinks it should repair by itself, but she might need surgery. Otherwise, she's healthy," Negan explained with an attempt at a cheerful tone. He was excited, another baby in town. Cora was young, but he knew she was going to be an incredible Mom. Right now though he was so goddamn tired, mentally and physically. "She had a breech birth and a hemorrhage, but she was trying to sleep when we left. It was late. I'm going to see her now."

"Is Daryl okay?" Judith asked. "He was giving blood, right?" Negan just nodded. He should have checked on him before he left. Made sure he wasn’t feeling too sick and weak from the blood donation. Judith didn't notice his silence and instead grinned. "Me and Cora share the same blood now!" She pumped her fist.

"Your body has created your own blood cells since," Negan explained, but Judith waved her hand.

"Shh. Not the point."

Negan rolled his eyes and smiled ruefully. “Don’t they teach you anything in that school of yours?”

Judith mirrored his grin.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked him, tilting his head trying to force Negan to look him in the eye. Negan forced himself to hold his gaze and smile.

"I'm fine. Go, swim. Don't be late for class," he added to Judith.

"My group’s got music this morning. I've got time." Judith shot him a grin, but he could see the pain underneath, she loved playing guitar. He considered giving her the birthday present early, but it was only a few more days until her birthday, they could wait until then. "You wanna join us?"

"Nah. I need to check on Cora. You go have fun, and enjoy the cool water. I miss AC." He didn't look at Rick again as he turned, too afraid Rick would see right through him. If he hadn't already.

He let himself into the infirmary and heard soft crying. He rushed towards the sound to find Cora without a shirt on, using a breast pump plugged into the wall. They had it for emergencies, along with a few baby bottles, but they had in storage until now. She was crying softly and shaking her head at Zoe. "It's not right," Cora sobbed. “It hurts.”

"Hey," Negan spoke up, making sure to make eye contact before deliberately turning away. Needing her to know he wasn’t looking at her, not wanting her uncomfortable, especially considering how she got pregnant. "Need me?" he asked quietly to the back wall.

She sniffled tearfully. "No milk. She's hungry. But it’s nothing. I can’t do it. Negan.”

At the cry for help, he carefully turned around, coming over to her side when she gestured for him. The pump continued to make noise, but nothing was coming out.

"I have explained, for some women, it can take a few days to come in," Zoe said softly.

"But books said… colostrum. I need to have it!"

"That might take a bit of time, given the trauma and blood loss last night."

"She needs now!" Cora snapped.

"Babies don't need much," Zoe tried, even Negan felt the urge to snap at her. He could see there was nothing coming out, but he didn’t know much about breastmilk after birth.

"It’s nothing !" Cora shouted. She looked up at Negan. "Nothing. It hurts. She be feeding with me. Not pump.”

“With the cleft palate, we need to feed her with bottles,” Zoe explained to Negan instead of Cora.

" And ," Negan interrupted her, focusing on Cora, "we'll talk to Rosita." He sat beside her and lifted the covers over her as she pulled the pump away from her breast.

"I'm her Mom. I should feed her." Cora spoke deliberately slowly, focusing on making sure the words came out right. Impressing upon Negan how important it was that they understand.

" You should rest. You'll keep trying. But you know an old saying about babies?” Negan made sure she looked at him as he wiped the tears off her cheeks. “It takes a village to raise one. You've got a goddamn coalition on your side. Let me go speak to Rosita, and we'll figure something out, okay?"

Cora nodded and shifted to let him step back. He was relieved, having something to do was a small way of keeping his mind off Daryl's betrayal.

He found Rosita quickly, sitting in the shade of her house with Làzaro lying on a mat in the grass on his belly. He didn't look happy about the situation.

Gabriel was nearby watching them with a sad smile on his face. Negan thought about seeing him lying in the grass with Coco playing before the sinkhole. Before his back was broken beyond repair. His friend wouldn’t want him to offer to help him get up and down, highlighting how hard it was rather than helping him.

Gabriel saw him and lifted a hand in a wave. Negan waved back and crouched in front of Làzaro. That got his attention and he brought his head up to look at Negan. Negan poked his tongue out and made a few silly faces before Làzaro dropped his head again.

Negan turned his attention to the smiling Rosita.

"I heard Cora gave birth last night. Wasn't sure if she was up for visitors?" Rosita asked.

"Not generally, but she could use you. If you're willing?"

Rosita arched an eyebrow. "Sure?"

"She’s got a cleft palate. We’ve got a pump, but she doesn't have any milk and is panicking about the baby starving."

"It can take a few days to come in properly."

"She has nothing, no colostrum."

Rosita sat up straighter. "I can feed the baby if that's what you're asking?"

"I'm asking what you think is best. For right now, and if nothing happens in the next few days. We have trade partners. One of them might have a wet-nurse we can hire for a time," he reminded her, not wanting to put the problem on her shoulders alone.

"No." Rosita narrowed her eyes, clearly offended. "I can pump to feed her if it's needed. Let me come see them." She scooped Làzaro off the ground. "Can you take him home?" She asked Gabriel.

"Of course." He took the baby, wrapping him against his chest so his hands were free to roll the chair in the opposite direction as Rosita and Negan.

Rosita walked with purpose, letting herself into the infirmary where Negan could hear a baby crying. She poked her head around the curtain, smiling. "Can we come in?" she asked above the sounds of the baby's cries.

"Negan?"

"Yup."

"Okay."

Negan followed Rosita around the curtain. Cora was sitting up on the bed, holding her baby, her eyes red and tears tracked down her cheeks.

"I hear you're having trouble breastfeeding. What we're gonna do is give the little girl some of mine right now. Make her happy. She doesn't need much, a teaspoon."

"Want me to leave?" Negan asked as Rosita unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

She side-eyed him. "You've seen me feed Làzaro. It's fine, you'll know if I want you to go away."

Negan chuckled. A trade partner had visited from Momento Mori a week ago and one of them stared at Rosita as she fed Làzaro. She had unlatched her son, handed him to Gabriel, and then slapped the guy, telling him to "go stare at a walker breast and get the fuck out of my town!"

Negan had watched the scene laughing, but when he looked at Daryl, hoping to share in the amusement, his husband was just staring with narrowed, concerned eyes.

Now, Rosita picked up the pump from the floor, and studied it for a moment before she put a part of it on her breast and switched it on. She winced, but it was only a moment before milk started filling the connected bottle. "We'll figure this out," Rosita said to Cora. "If your milk doesn't come in, I can pump, put my milk into bottles for you to feed her."

"I don't want take from Làzaro."

"You won't. I make enough."

Cora nodded, her eyes still full of tears but relaxing at Rosita's soothing, confident tone.

Negan wished it had the same effect on his frayed nerves.

The day was too slow.

Negan taught his lessons, music with the advanced group, then math with the beginners. They split kids by ability rather than age, most of the time. When the orphans were brought in, even the teenagers couldn't do math, so they were put in the beginner's group rather than with the town teenagers like Judith, who had been taught since they were young.

At lunch, he knew he should go home and check on Daryl, but he didn't want to be around him yet. Instead, he checked on Cora, now feeding her boy with a bottle, and found Rosita pumping nearby. Both women smiled at him, and he stayed long enough to make pleasantries before he left, aware he was too conflicted to be good company.

On his way back to the school, he passed the townhouses. He paused, seeing Daryl and Rick sitting on the stairs to Rick's house, talking with Dog asleep at their feet. The conversation drifted to him, it was about Judith's swimming lesson, and if Daryl could take her too. Completely innocent.

His eyes lingered on their legs pressed together, Rick in shorts against the heat but Daryl in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt, without his vest. But what really caught Negan’s attention was Daryl's eyes. The way Daryl stared at Rick. There was something different than when he looked at Negan, there was no tension.

Rick hadn’t seen the changes in Daryl and Negan started to wonder, was Daryl just different with him? No one else seemed concerned. Daryl had gone for a walk with Rick and fallen asleep on his couch, safe and comfortable. After their time together, Rick knew how Daryl used to feel about him. Did he feel the same way?

With how busy Negan had been, he made himself give Daryl space without him hovering… They could have taken this opportunity to finally get together, but didn’t know how to tell him yet. Scared if they did, he would find out and go on a rampage. 

It would explain a lot.

Except, he knew Rick, he knew Daryl. They wouldn’t do that. 

But he did know Daryl, and the way Daryl looked at Rick was real.

As if sensing being watched, both men glanced around. Daryl's eyes grew hard, guarded, but Rick smiled and waved.

Negan just nodded stiffly and walked away.

Daryl watched Negan walk away, anger etched on his face. He clenched his fists, wishing he knew how to fix this before something really bad happened.

"He okay?" Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Are you two arguing?" Rick prompted, fear spiking his voice.

Daryl's heart clenched. Rick had his family to protect, he needed to know how Daryl fucked up so he could be ready. "I read a letter. Wasn't supposed to. He saw."

Rick tilted his head before his eyes widened. "The letter from Brooke? You didn’t read it before?"

“No.”

"Fuck.” Rick watched Negan walking away for another moment, eyes sliding closed. “No wonder he's pissed. Why’d you do that?"

Daryl’s chest went tight, seeing the worry written across Rick’s face, he really messed up. He couldn’t let anyone else pay for it. "Jus' saw it, weren’t thinkin’." He shrugged again. "I dunno how to fix this one. I will fix it," Daryl tried to assure Rick.

"Did he ever tell you he let me read it?" Daryl shook his head, hoping he wasn’t lying to Rick about this or reading the letter himself. "It was the first time I started to understand... you and him, y'know."

“When you started thinkin’ a him as your brother?” Daryl kept the jealousy and bitterness out of his voice by bending to pat Dog’s side. Like the question was absent-minded or unimportant. How long ago had Negan turned Rick? Because that went beyond threats. Broken Rick so that he warped their family and called Negan brother?

Had he betrayed Rick first by kneeling, or had Rick betrayed him? It wasn’t a betrayal, Rick had to protect the kids. Daryl wanted him to protect the kids.

Rick laughed and shook his head, bumping Daryl’s shoulder with his own. “No, that was on the road looking for you. We were out there a long time. I can see why you ended up with him, and I don’t think Michonne would’ve appreciated me callin’ him husband.”

Daryl’s stomach dropped even as Rick patted his knee and scanned the area around them. Daryl followed his gaze to see Negan had turned as though heading back and was glancing back at them. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." Rick squeezed the knee he patted, and stood. "I gotta go meet RJ, he wants another fighting lesson and spar. He's getting so strong, and faster than Judith— at least, faster than she was… before." He gestured vaguely. "I'll see you later." He ran a hand through Dog’s fur as he passed.

Daryl cursed under his breath and leaned down to stroke Dog, focusing on his steady breathing to calm himself down.

Chapter Text

Rick didn't know what woke him. He breathed steadily and listened for a moment. Negan's soft snoring from the bed across the room was the only sound.

Then he heard the first footstep. He didn't open his eyes, but he flexed his wrist and felt the knife silently slide from the prosthetic. Sleeping with it could lead to chaffing, but with James' warning he decided to deal with it. It might be what saved him now.

Another soft footstep.

Wearing boots, Rick thought to himself, rookie mistake. Barefoot was quieter.

One more cautious footstep, the irregular tread of it was another warning to Rick's subconscious. They were close enough now.

Rick sprung up from the bed, taking a split second to see the knife in the man's hand and the size of him. But Rick had the element of surprise. He kicked out at the man's knee while shoving at his chest until he hit the wall. He grabbed his wrist to keep the swinging knife away from him. His own prosthetic knife rested against the assassin's neck, effectively immobilizing him.

"Drop it," he ordered, as he heard Negan getting up. The man was of average height but he was very muscular and clearly athletic, young. The knife clattered to the floor and Rick kicked it away.

"What the fuck?" Negan shouted, crowbar in hand. He took in the situation, eyebrows raised. "David? Jesus Christ. What the hell are you doing?"

"How can you just—" David started. Rick pressed his knife harder against his neck and he cut off, croaking.

"Rick," Negan ordered, exasperated. Rick let the man go, aware Negan knew him. 'David' dropped, gasping for breath. Negan crouched beside him. "We settled the score. A long time ago."

"Two men was not enough!" David spat. Abraham and Glenn, Rick realized, his stomach rolling.

"Yes, it was," Negan responded. His voice was calm, sad.

"Shoulda killed the whole damn lot of them!"

"Maybe, but I didn't and we're here now." Negan grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. Rick resisted the urge to touch his own collar, remembering that grip, being dragged along the gravel, scrambling to follow him. "You good?" Negan asked Rick, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah."

Rick watched Negan drag David out of the room and sat to wait. He scooped up David's knife and left his other one extended from his prosthetic still, not daring to sleep without Negan back and barricading the door.

When Negan returned ten minutes later, he sighed and sat on the bed beside Rick. "David's Dad was at the satellite station."

Rick cursed under his breath. It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. At the time, he thought it was right, but now— now he knew better. He didn't just kill other murderers, he killed fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters.

All life is precious.

Negan went back to school, looking for something to keep his mind off everything. The ghosts were louder than usual, amplifying the poisonous thoughts creeping in. He was just grateful Rick didn’t join them, unsure how he would handle seeing even the hallucination of their leader right now.

Practical skills was a class he rarely taught, but Rosita still wasn't ready to come back to teaching and they were all taking turns covering it for her. She had left copious notes. Today was crafting, and of course, they were focused on arrows. Which was just what he needed, constant reminders of his husband around him.

After his final class of the day, he stepped outside for air and saw Rick on the field, drinking water and pouring some over himself against the heat. He’d changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Rick lifted a hand and waved, gesturing for Negan to join him.

"What do you want, Prick?" Negan spat, aware he wasn't being fair but unable to find anything to calm himself down.

Rick arched an eyebrow. "Everyone that's seen you today has said you're in a shit mood."

"That a problem? I'm not allowed to have an off day? Cause it makes people think I'm gonna go on a killing spree?" Negan sneered.

"No. They're worried for you."

Negan sighed, his shoulders dropping as his anger quickly turned into guilt. But Rick was still staring at him, shirt plastered with water, so earnest that Negan wanted to punch him. His emotions were jerking around in him like a fighting dog.

"So am I," Rick added, succeeding in frustrating Negan further. How dare he be concerned when he could be part of it.

"Worried enough you'll just steal Daryl out from under me?" Negan blurted. Rick's eyebrows jumped to his hairline, pure confusion written across his face. Negan cursed his stupid mouth, sometimes he really should stop talking.

"What?"

"Doesn't matter." Negan stepped back. He couldn't believe how wrong he got that. Rick’s response was too confused, no guilt hiding in an over earnest denial. He could usually read people, he always knew. Daryl being so quiet, so not himself, was throwing him off. "See you later, Prick."

He turned away and something hit the back of his head. It was soft and didn't hurt, but he still rubbed his head and turned back to Rick. "Ow?" He glanced at the roll of blue material on the ground by his feet.

"Come on, let's spar," Rick decided.

"What?" Negan frowned at him. "We've never sparred. We’ve only actively tried to kill each other."

"I've been teaching RJ, he wants to be able to fight hand to hand. You need to punch something."

"I'm not going to hit you, Rick."

"I'm gonna hit you for thinking I'd sleep with Daryl when we're both married." Rick put his hands up in a boxing stance. "You should probably hit back."

Negan hesitated for another moment, but it did sound like a great idea. Rick and he were evenly matched. After his stint with the CRM Rick was better trained, and fast, but Negan knew he was stronger and had some martial arts training himself. There was still a part of him that wanted to know if he could take on this new Rick’s skills.

He picked up the roll to wrap his hands and Rick grinned.

"Rules?" Negan asked.

"No weapons. I can't take this off," he lifted his prosthetic hand between them, "but I won't use the knife. No dick shots."

"What, you and Michonne trying for another?"

"Not… actively," Rick murmured, hands dropping and eyes darting around the empty field for listening ears, "but we won't be upset if it happens."

Negan grinned. "Hell yeah, brother." Rick returned the smile, his more nervous. "Won't say a word," Negan promised to the unspoken question. "Unless you write it down and Daryl goes snooping again," he muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"I heard." Rick tilted his head trying to force Negan to look him in the eye. "He feels like shit."

Negan glared at him, not needing him to butt into his relationship with how raw his emotions were, and wrapped his other hand. "Any more rules?"

Getting the hint, Rick got back into a fighting stance. "No breaking bones where we can help it. Try not to cause permanent damage. But don’t pull your punches too much, just because I’ve got one hand."

Negan chuckled and mirrored Rick's stance.

"Ding," Negan said loudly, making Rick laugh.

Negan moved slowly as they circled each other.

They both threw a few mock throws, testing their reach and each other. "Thought you wanted to hit me?" Negan spoke up, partly teasing but testing him too.

It was enough, Rick darted forward, swinging his fist wide. Negan quickly threw his own punch at Rick's face and blocked the fist coming for him. His fist connected with Rick's nose with a satisfying crunch. A sharp pain shot through his fist and Negan took a deep breath, relishing in it.

Rick didn't stop, he shot forward again, this time grabbing Negan around the chest. Pain exploded in his side as Rick's knee slammed into his waist under his ribs, pulling the breath from his lungs.

"What, you wanna cuddle?" Negan gasped.

He shoved at Rick's chin with his palm, pushing him back enough that Negan could slam his own knee into Rick's side. Rick groaned and dropped his hands, setting him up perfectly.

Negan threw a sharp jab, hitting Rick on his nose again. It was hard enough he expected Rick to step back. Instead, Rick took the punch with barely more than a grunt then shot forward.

He grabbed Negan around the back of the head with his human hand and used his prosthetic to throw an uppercut - pushing Negan's head into it.

His head spun and he stumbled back, but Rick didn't give him breathing room. He swung fast, not stopping. Negan could only lift his hands to protect his face, allowing Rick to get in a few body shots. The blows were just on the right side of brutal, still sparing instead of trying to kill each other.

Once Rick was finally close enough, Negan swung out with his elbow catching Rick across the cheek, stopping his attack suddenly. Negan shoved Rick backward by his shoulders and then kicked out, hitting Rick on the chest and gaining more space.

Negan lifted his hands again, breathing heavily. He used one arm to wipe the sweat from his head, a flash of red on the hand wraps drew his attention for a second.

"What? A bit of blood too much for you?" Rick shouted. Negan chuckled and spat some blood on the ground between them. Rick smirked.

They circled each other again for a few breaths and Negan noticed a few people starting to gather around them. A crowd come to watch.

He was distracted for a moment, hoping the town didn't think they were actually fighting. Rick used that moment to spring towards him again. Negan attempted a jab, but Rick was ready for it, he ducked and rammed his human fist into Negan's neck.

For a second, he was in the field. Sharp pain in his neck, warm blood pouring over his fingers, wet grass soaking into his jeans. Anger, betrayal, and grief hot in his stomach.

Rick used his distraction to swarm him, throwing punches without pause. Negan resorted to covering his face again, thinking through his next move rapidly. He knew Rick wouldn't fall for another elbow. 

The moment Rick slowed, wearing himself out, Negan jabbed out an arm. Using momentum he caught Rick across his face, right at his chin, then kicked at Rick's legs. Pushing either side of his body in different directions, watching Rick crash to the ground with a huff.

More people joined the crowd, cheering started. He heard both his and Rick's name called out, along with odds as the town enjoyed the spectacle. They didn't think he was trying to hurt Rick. They knew. They trusted him. For the first time in a long time, Negan felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

Negan tried to drop to straddle Rick. Rick kicked out, catching his chest, pushing Negan away. A second kick caused pain to explode in his weaker left leg making Negan lose balance long enough for Rick to stand.

Rick jabbed again, Negan took the hit with the sharp pain he barely felt when he saw a wide-eyed Daryl in the crowd.

Negan forced his attention back to Rick. He grabbed Rick's shirt and pulled him in, directly into his fist, punching him a few times before Rick caught his arm, stopping him. Negan smirked and headbutted him.

He heard the crunching of bone and Rick's cursing, releasing Negan's arm long enough Negan could punch him a few more times, getting a good shot under Rick's ribs.

He noticed the blood pouring out Rick's nose, but the other man ignored it.

Rick bent his knees and pushed in. As Rick's strong arms wrapped around him, Negan shoved one arm under Rick's armpit and wrenched him around, locking his arm behind him, and dragging him to the ground.

Negan got behind Rick and wrapped an arm around his neck in a tight chokehold.

Rick growled and tried to shake him off, but Negan held tight.

"Tap out," Negan spat. He glanced around the cheering crowd watching with rapt attention. "Rick, tap the fuck out." He glanced at him to make sure his arm was free to tap, but Rick kept struggling. Stubborn bastard.

Negan waited another moment, but Rick was going limp. "Damnit." He had to let go, he couldn't choke him out in front of everyone when they trusted him. Rick dropped, clutching his neck and breathing heavily.

Negan stood, gasping for breath and moved around to Rick's side, hand outstretched. "You good?" He asked softly. Rick turned, taking the hand, and then grinned.

Negan barely had a second to curse before he was suddenly on the ground with Rick straddling his hips and fists flying. "Cheating prick!" Negan snapped. He dodged Rick's prosthetic fist and grabbed it, rolling them.

Daryl made his way to the town hall for an early dinner, hoping to catch Negan. He needed to apologize, to talk to him before he did something Daryl couldn't stop.

Someone ran past him and he looked around to see everyone heading towards the school. Classes should be done for the day, and the town hall had the scent of dinner wafting in the air. Something had to be wrong.

"What's goin' on?" He asked the Savior woman who called herself Princess as she ran past him.

"Negan and Rick are fighting," she said with a cheerful smile, eyes dancing, and sped into a jog. Daryl cursed under his breath. Negan had been looking at Rick earlier, he should have known. Daryl sped up and sprinted past her. His feet screamed, but he didn't stop until he reached the crowd in a large circle.

He pushed in to see both Rick and Negan in the middle, both had blood and forming bruises on their faces. Rick was on the ground, furiously trying to kick out and stop Negan from getting on top of him.

"Did you see him go for the neck?" someone near Daryl said.

"Rick pushed him too far," someone else agreed.

Rick managed to get two swift kicks on Negan and stood. Rick swung out, hitting Negan.

The crowd around him were cheering, shouting both men's names but he could hear something else, a unintelligible roar of a crowd, the smell of the dead.

A large black man lunging forward with a left hook. Daryl pulled his hands in to defend his face, his shoulder taking the force of it. The man didn’t pause, he threw a knee into Daryl’s ribs, he felt the lightning pain spread across his body. He buckled forward, struggling to catch a breath. The man followed with two more punches before he darted back to deal with the other walker.

Daryl grabbed at his aching rib, glaring at the man he thought was on his side as he gasped for breath.

He had to get the upper hand. 

He rushed forward and threw a punch at the man but the movement sent shooting pains through his ribs and he stumbled into one of the walkers. He cursed as he landed on the ground, the walker atop him.

Daryl pushed it back, grimacing at the stench so close to his body. He had no weapons and the other man wasn’t helping so he grabbed the walker’s head and shoved his thumbs into its eyes, feeling for the right squish until it went still atop him.

He threw the walker to the side and tried to get up only for more pain to explode across his face.

He turned away, protecting his head as the man rained down a few punches.

Through the gap in his fingers, he saw the man step closer and Daryl moved then, sitting half up, grabbing the man's foot and pushing at his waist.

The man fell to the ground and Daryl scrambled to straddle his waist, furiously throwing his own punches.

From the corner of his eye he saw the final walker was drawn to them sending Daryl scrambling to his feet. Daryl kicked it in the chest sending it backwards only for the man to shove Daryl into the wall. He threw a few more punches and then grabbed Daryl’s arm, wrenching it to the side. He shouted in agony as pain exploded through his body and a knee to the face cracked his already broken nose.

He dragged Daryl down by the injured arm, Daryl had no choice but to go, and felt the other man’s arm snake around his neck.

Daryl glanced around the crowd now, searching for that man's face - a Savior? Was this something Negan enjoyed? Putting people to fight each other and walkers? The Governor had as well, was it some kind of villainous requirement?

Daryl pushed the thought away for now, focusing on the fight as Negan looked directly at him. His own face was filled with fury before he suddenly surged at Rick. Negan grabbed Rick's shirt, pulling him in. Raining vicious blows on his face and stomach a few times before Rick stopped him. But he was exhausted, Negan taking sadistic pleasure in dragging him to the ground, arm wrapped around him in a chokehold.

Chokeholds illegal, asshole , Rick's voice echoed in his mind. But Daryl was the one who said that to Shane and him, back when they first met. How many times had he been forced to watch Rick be beaten? He didn't have time to dwell on it.

Rick was struggling, but Negan didn't let go. Daryl couldn't see his hands. Could Rick even tap out of this? Was he allowed? It was going on too long. Daryl had to stop it before Negan killed Rick. He started forward, willing to do anything it took to stop it, but a hand grabbed his left arm, too tightly.

He glared up at Jerry. "Gotta help," he tried knowing it was useless, a Savior wouldn't let him stop this. Daryl didn't even know what he would do if he got in the middle of it. Tell Negan to hit him instead? Let Negan fuck him in front of the whole town? 

Whatever it took.

"Nah. You've gotta let it happen, you know how it is," Jerry said to him.

Daryl cursed under his breath. "He's not—"

Negan let go, and Rick dropped, clutching his neck and breathing heavily.

Negan moved around to Rick's side, hand outstretched and said something, mocking him? Daryl couldn't hear. Daryl let out a breath; it was over. But then Rick took the hand and pulled, spinning them.

"Cheating prick!" Negan shouted. Rick only got one punch before Negan dodged Rick's prosthetic fist and grabbed it and rolled them. He leaned over Rick, fists flying mercilessly, aiming for the body with bone-breaking force. Rick rallied, kicking him hard in the chest, pushing him back to get breathing room. Rick leapt to his feet and surged at Negan, desperate and blinded by pain and blood.

Negan grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, then pulled Rick down against his knee, pulled Rick up by his hair and sent an uppercut to his jaw, releasing him.

Rick crumpled to the ground.

"Shit," Negan muttered to himself, seeing Rick's eyes closed, unconscious with blood all over his face. He stepped back as Izzy rushed forward. She crouched beside him and lifted Rick's eyelids, shining a light in them.

"M'fine," Rick murmured, coming back to consciousness quickly, pushing her away and trying to sit up. "Just watching tweety birds flying above my head."

"Sorry," Negan said, he wanted to help Rick up, but let him struggle on his own. Rick shot him a knowing smirk. 

Rick stumbled. Negan tried to catch him, but Michonne was there, pushing between them, glaring at him. Thankfully, Rick grinned over her shoulder.

"Better me than anyone else. I'll live."

"Let's get you checked out properly," Izzy decided, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Need hel—" Negan tried.

"You've done enough!" Michonne snapped, helping them walk away. He caught Rick's eye, around its swelling lid, he promised to explain it to Michonne.

But Michonne was out of his head instantly the moment they moved and he could see the still wide-eyed Daryl at the edge of the crowd. Jerry nodded and released Daryl, melting into the crowd as the rest of Alexandria drifted away. He heard various people discussing what they owed others for the fight. Negan grinned when he realized a lot of people had bet he would win.

A part of him wanted to go to the town hall and relish in his victory, but he needed to talk to Daryl first. He approached him, wiping his face with the back of his arm. "Go get us some food and take it home? I'll be there in a minute."

Daryl nodded stiffly.

Negan limped back to his office, rubbing his aching left leg as he did. He used a bottle of water left on his desk to wash his hands as much as he could without a shower and stopped to look at the framed picture on the desk.

Daryl working on a car engine, grease on his forehead, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, unaware that Negan was taking the picture. The only clean part of him was the shiny wedding ring on his finger.

Negan sighed, where had this man gone?

He wondered if he was the one doing this wrong. Daryl was healing, but Negan was still treating him with kid gloves. He should be adjusting with Daryl, they were married, a partnership. He needed to prove he trusted Daryl. More than just the stupidity of his jealousy of Rick, but treat Daryl like an adult. His partner, because with or without brain damage there was no way to tell how much it was affecting him if Negan treated him like an invalid.

An idea came to him on where to start.

Negan dried his hands, then took Brooke's letter from his drawer and stepped by the Grimes house before going home. Judith answered the door, eyebrows raised. She was wearing just a tank top and shorts against the heat that wasn't fading even as evening approached.

"Any reason you beat up Dad?" She asked him curiously, but there was no accusation in her tone.

"Egos," he answered half honestly.

Judith hummed. "He's still at the infirmary if you wanted to see him?"

"Not yet. I'm scared Michonne will hit me."

Judith laughed. "You just let Dad hit you!"

"There was no letting there," he argued. "Besides, her hits will actually hurt." He winked at her. "Don't tell Rick I said that. Do you know where the duffle bags I brought over a few weeks ago are?"

"In the attic bedroom." She stepped back to let him in. Dog came over to say hello, but followed Judith back into the living room while Negan went up to get them.

He stopped in the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. Judith should have slammed the door in his face, it was covered in dried blood. Most of it coming from a cut above his eye, the other eye was already starting to bruise but thankfully wasn't showing any signs of swelling, yet. He had another cut on his cheek and his lip. When he cautiously lifted his shirt and cursed at the bruise on his ribs.

When he made his way back down he saw Judith on the couch rubbing her left leg, face twisted. "You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, Zoe said I did too much. Just overstrain. She showed me how to massage it earlier but it hurts my hand."

"Need me to?"

Judith arched an eyebrow at him.

"I do Daryl's feet and back for him with the scars. I don't like to brag but I'm a good masseuse." He had seen Zoe massage it during PT sessions and knew what would be best for her.

"You like to brag about everything."

Negan grinned. "Want it or not?"

"Please."

"Lay back." Judith slid back on the couch, lifting her arms as a cushion under her head. Negan knelt on the ground by her legs and started massaging her from her foot up to her thigh. “Ready for your birthday?” he asked conversationally as he massaged her.

“Excited. What you got me?”

“Who said I’ve got you anything?”

“Because you always get me something awesome.”

Negan chuckled. “Well, I have been busy recently.”

Judith lifted her head and grinned. “What you got me?”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Not as a birthday present, but I've got a moisturizer I make for Daryl, it might help you too if you want me to make you a batch?"

"Sure," Judith said. "Do you mind… doing the other one? It's aching too."

Negan bit his cheek, pushing away the memory of holding her leg down as he sliced through it trying not to hear her screams.

"Yeah, that's fine. Is it okay for me to take it off?" He gestured at her prosthetic. She nodded stiffly. He was there when it was fitted and she was shown how to use it, he knew exactly how to get it off without hurting her.

He massaged it gently, feeling her eventually relax. "I can do this whenever you need," he promised her.

She lifted her head to smile. "Thank you."

Negan found Daryl had waited for him. He was standing by the table where two bowls of stew sat. Cold by now.

"Sorry, got held up with Judith," Negan said to him, leaving the duffle bags of weapons by the door to unpack later. He sat on the couch, playing with the letter. After a moment, Daryl came to the couch, hesitated, and then knelt in front of him.

"M'sorry," Daryl said softly, putting a hand on his knee. Negan took his hand and tugged him onto the couch and handed him the letter.

"Finish it."

Daryl shook his head. "I don't gotta."

"Then why did you read it in the first place?" Negan asked, his voice cracking. He took a breath, cleared his throat, and continued, "Why didn't you ask? You know I would have let you if you asked ."

Daryl shrugged. "I duno. I jus' saw it. Didn't think."

"Damnit, Daryl!" Negan snapped, and he saw a look in Daryl's eyes that reminded him of the day in the courtyard.

You don't scare easily.

He knew now Daryl had been terrified. If he could go back in time and look, he knew what he would see.

He would be able to see the stillness for Daryl wasn't a lack of fear but a reaction to it. A child hiding and trying to stay unnoticed by a drunk father. 

He would see the tiny clench of a fist and the tight lips.

Just as he noticed now.

Negan took Daryl's left hand, the few remaining fingers curling slightly as though holding him close. He turned his wrist to place a kiss on his pulse. "Please, talk to me," Negan whispered. "I miss you. I miss us. I told you in the hospital, I can't lose you. Years later, that's still true."

Daryl scanned his face and chewed on his thumbnail for a second. Then dropped his head forward to gain composure and said, "M' tryin' to… be better."

"I know, you can't shake this one either," Negan said softly. He would never forget Daryl admitting that to him, it was the first time he felt like they truly connected in a way Negan didn't understand until later. Confusion slid into Daryl's gaze and then he shrugged. "I started wondering if you and Rick were sleeping together," Negan admitted sheepishly, reminding himself he needed to treat Daryl like his partner. Mother henning him when he's hurt was one thing, but he's nearly completely healed up now.

Daryl's eyes went wide, he shook his head. "I didn't— he didn't—"

"I know. It was stupid."

Daryl stared at Negan, he had melted Mark's face because Amber slept with him. Rick’s public beating was his fault, because he suspected Daryl thought about cheating. Falling asleep at Rick’s house, the small touches they had always shared as friends.

His leg suddenly itched where Rick touched it, his skin crawling with the realization of the danger he'd put them both in because he stopped to enjoy a conversation and didn't pull away when his tactile friend touched him.

He wondered then what Negan had been held up with with Judith. The urge to check on her was powerful, but first had to find a way to make it up to Negan and prove he was his , he didn't have to hurt anyone else.

He needed to be better. He needed to do what Negan wanted without having to be asked. How many times in the last few weeks had he been waiting for punishment and Negan was out there punishing someone else like he had Rick today? Or Rosita when he took charge with the fire? His pride was already shredded, why was he trying to hold onto the scraps?

He darted forward and kissed him, sliding to his knees in front of Negan again. "Only want you," he murmured, his mouth tasting of blood. "Can prove to you how much I want ya."

Negan cursed, shifting to make it easier for Daryl to go for his belt.

Daryl slid Negan's pants down and mouthed the bulge under his boxers, lifting his eyes to stare at Negan.

He pulled his underwear out of the way, letting Negan's cock spring free, pre-cum already leaking onto his stomach. Daryl enjoyed giving blow-jobs, always had. Which was useful to get free drinks and free food when he didn't want to be fucked back before The Fall. He wrapped his lips around the angry red cock, licking along the slit and held Negan's gaze as he moved down the cock, opening his throat.

Negan cursed, one hand sliding to grip Daryl's shoulder, the other clenched on the couch cushion. Daryl almost pulled his hand up to his head, Negan would enjoy forcing him down on his dick, making him choke on it. But the idea made him breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the cock down his throat. He ran his hands up Negan's thighs, which trembled with the effort to stay still.

Daryl's nose pressed into Negan's stomach, he moved back and then slid forward again in one swift movement, with one hand he fondled Negan's balls.

"Oh, Jesus, Daryl." Negan thrust up, Daryl met in the middle. He didn't need to breathe, he needed Negan to not be angry. His eyes slipped closed as he worked to stop thinking. Letting Negan use his mouth wasn’t enough. He pulled out every trick in the book, licking, sucking, and groaning around him. "Yes. Fuck—"

He felt Negan tense. Daryl slid down his cock at the last moment, swallowing every drop of the bitter cum.

Negan went lax on the couch. Daryl pulled back, not sure what to do next.

"C'mere," Negan ordered. Daryl climbed onto the couch beside him. Negan kissed him hard, licking into his mouth, Daryl could taste blood again. "I need to shower."

Daryl hummed.

"While I shower, I want to watch you fuck yourself with the dildo. Then when I'm clean and hard again, I'm gonna take over."

A shudder ran down Daryl's spine. Thankfully, Negan saw it as pleasure and grinned.

"C'mon." He pulled his pants up only to lead Daryl to the bedroom.

Negan pulled the bathroom curtain fully open, and Daryl cursed under his breath. He had been waiting to understand why they had them. Now it made sense, it was a kink of Negan's. So far not a bathroom kink that Daryl could tell.

Negan went into the bathroom, stripped, and turned on the shower. He grinned at Daryl.

"You want me to start you off?"

Daryl glanced at the drawer. "Nah, you wanted to watch," he said softly, hoping it was the right answer. When Negan groaned and climbed under the spray, Daryl guessed it was.

He stripped his clothes off and opened the drawer, taking out the lube and the large silicone dildo. He hesitated a moment, he needed Negan to know he was submissive.

The nipple clamps jingled when he took them out, the sound masked by Negan climbing into the shower. They had a thin chain connecting them. He bit his lip and clamped them on his nipples. It burned, but in a strangely good way. More pain he had been trained to enjoy.

He turned and Negan ran his eyes up and down Daryl's body, moaning and his cock filling out at the sight alone.

"Oh, fuck yes , Darlin'."

Daryl hated how those words shot straight to the growing pit in his stomach and down his dick, making the tip tingle. He sat on the bed, knees spread, and covered the fingers on his right hand with lube. Immediately afterward, he wondered if he should have used his partial left hand, the stubby remains of his fingers a reminder for Negan that he took them. But Negan didn’t tell him to switch and he didn’t want to waste the chance to prep, the violence of his beating on Rick seemed to have riled Negan up already.

Daryl held Negan's gaze as he slid his hand down his body and pushed a fat finger into himself. He bit his lip, cursing under his breath. He hadn't done this in a long time, not since being a teenager figuring out what he liked. Too afraid of being caught.

Now, he felt the flush down to his chest but he didn't stop. If this is what Negan wanted, he would give it again and again, no matter the damage it was doing to his mind.

Negan watched with rapt attention as he washed himself, his cock hardening under the spray of water but mostly ignored other than a quick stroke as he cleaned himself.

Daryl slid in a second finger, finding the bundle of nerves that had his balls tightening and a curse escaping his lips.

"Fuck, Darlin'," Negan called out. "You look so damn hot like that."

Daryl focused on the words, on the pleasure, switching his mind off from the shame and embarrassment. He found that part of him that enjoyed this, that wanted Negan to enjoy it too.

Daryl used his left hand and gently pulled at the chain connecting the two nipple clamps, it stung but the feeling shot down to his cock like lightning, pre-cum leaking onto his stomach. Negan cursed, hand going to his cock. Daryl pulled at the chain again and reached for the dildo. He released the chain just long enough to work lube onto the silicone, watching Negan carefully in case he wasn't supposed to use the lube, but Negan's expression didn't change. He had used the lube nearly every time they fucked, it was never violent or painful.

Daryl then lifted his balls with one hand to give Negan the best view, and pushed the dildo inside him, stretching him open, but it was nothing compared to Negan. It was strange and hard. He didn’t have any memories of using a dildo before, but the pictures in the nightstand showed him what Negan liked. He angled it slightly to brush against his prostate, then cursed at the sparks shooting through him. He pulled it nearly all the way out and pushed it back in.

"Fuck it, I'm clean," Negan decided, switching off the shower and didn't bother with drying himself.

He replaced Daryl's hand on the dildo, fucking Daryl with it slowly as he worked lube over his own cock.

Negan pulled it out, for a moment, Daryl felt empty and needed more.

Then Negan was on top of him, sliding into him, giving him what he needed. The compass swung above his head. Daryl focused on that instead of the feeling of being split open and used. His hands and hips moved of their own accord as some part of his memory knew what Negan wanted.

"Christ, Daryl, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Negan murmured against his lips. His hand ran up Daryl's chest, pulling at the chain harder than Daryl had, making him hiss against the sharp ache. Negan chuckled and pulled it again, flicking and playing with each clamp separately.

He pulled out suddenly, eyeing Daryl, eyes dark with lust.

"Turn over."

Daryl rolled onto his front, leaning most of his weight on his still aching left arm, ass in the air. Negan filled him again quickly, hands gripping his hips tight enough it had to be leaving marks, and started fucking him in earnest. One hand released his hip to run along his back, touching everywhere Daryl still had feeling. Enjoying his masterpiece.

Daryl glanced to the side and caught sight of himself in the mirror, his face flushed with shame and twisted with horror and pain. Negan caught his eye through the reflection and frowned, pausing buried deep. Daryl forced a look of pleasure on his face. He needed to look like he was enjoying this. 

Daryl's cock pulsed with need so he reached under himself and stroked. Negan winked and started moving again. His slick hand slid in time with Negan's hard thrusts until he exploded, cum covering the sheets beneath him. Only moments later, Negan's hips twitched and he gripped harder, bruising him as he came inside Daryl.

He pulled out but stayed in place, one finger trailing along Daryl's crack, pushing the escaping cum back inside him.

"Wanna wear the plug tonight?" He asked softly.

Daryl barely contained his shudder as he nodded. "Okay." Not good enough, be better. For them. “Yes”

Negan reached around him to get it from the open drawer, and Daryl bit his lip against the cool metal pushing into him. It stretched him further, painfully, before he felt his ass close around the ridge near the end. Negan moved it around for a moment, dragging it against his sensitive prostate and pulling a whine out of his chest. He cursed and then Daryl felt a soft cloth running along his legs where some cum had escaped before Negan finally moved away.

Daryl slowly turned around, biting his lip against the strange feeling of a constant intrusion brushing against his prostate as he moved.

With clean sheets under them, Negan laid back with Daryl close against him. He ran his hand up and down Daryl's arm, sighing softly. They were both sated and tired but it was too early to sleep, they still had cold dinner on the table downstairs.

"You know I didn't keep it in my office because I don't trust you, right?"

Daryl hummed, and Negan knew he should let his exhausted husband sleep and enjoy the post orgasmic bliss. But his chest felt tight and he needed to get this off it so that he could feel normal.

"It just helps. When I'm alone and I've got Simon or someone else talking to me. Trying to tell me I'm doing everything wrong. Or to torture or kill… y'know." Daryl turned his head, eyebrows furrowed. Negan turned his head to kiss between his eyebrows, he had told Daryl about all of them, about The Croat in real life and how he seemed to be the devil on his shoulder. "I know, you would argue with him if you could. I love you."

He sighed, not expecting a reply when he heard the quiet, "I love you too."

Negan beamed, turning to kiss Daryl again, harder.

He was going to get better, he had to.

Negan just tried to ignore Lucille in the corner telling him both Rick and Daryl had just tried to distract him rather than argue with him.

Chapter Text

They swapped watch until the sun rose. Rick stayed up first, adrenaline still pumping from the near attack, but eventually he fell asleep and got a couple of hours. Feeling safe under Negan’s watchful eye.

Negan woke him and they quickly left Haven. The elders and Janine were more than apologetic for the attack, but Rick and Negan agreed not to stay.

They were given food, supplies, a rifle as an apology, and an escort of Negan-approved Saviors for a short distance until finally, they were alone again.

"You know, you could probably rebuild your Saviors," Rick commented. "I didn't realize how many people left and rebuilt far away."

Negan hummed. "I figured out most of them left when you were able to feed them for the first year."

"You never said.” Rick tried not to sound accusing but knew he failed when Negan turned a glare on him.

"Well, we weren't exactly buddy-buddy then. Figured I'd let you figure it out yourself why I had to take." Rick stared at him and Negan sighed. "People are selfish, Prick, they don't want to share resources. Even with trusted trade partners. You want to keep the best shit. Alexandria is better than some I've seen, but how much do you think our trade partners aren't telling us because it means they have to share?"

Rick started to reply when both horses came to a sudden stop, detecting something Rick couldn’t see or hear. "What—"

Rick reached for his gun. All of their horses were used to walkers. They wouldn’t react unless it was a fairly large herd. Small groups they would usually walk past with a small warning, but Rick couldn't hear the tell tale noise of a herd. 

It was the opposite. The forest was suddenly too quiet, no bird song, no crack of branches. Even the wind seemed to have stopped.

He caught Negan's frown as he noticed the same.

And then everything happened at once. 

Chief screamed and bucked, Rick slid off his back, dropping his gun and landing painfully on the ground. He saw Moonshine bolt and following her was a flash of dark reddish orange. Rick rolled, reaching for his gun and heard gunfire nearby. He leapt to his feet and ran in the same direction.

A roar echoed around him, one that made Rick's blood grow cold. Distantly familiar. Between the snarls, he could hear a screaming horse.

They hadn’t gone far. Rick skidded to a stop and saw Moonshine bucking and screaming, Negan desperately trying to hold on and aim the rifle. Rick lifted his own python but the tiger was moving, circling Moonshine. If he missed, and didn’t hit Moonshine, the shot might scare the tiger away. Or it could anger the big cat more.

Tigers are known to seek revenge.

He had a better idea.

“HEY!” he shouted. Negan caught his eye, his own wild and shocked. “OVER HERE! SHERE KHAN, LOOK AT ME!” Rick waved his arms. The tiger spun around to the new threat, growling. Moonshine was still bucking, making herself a harder meal. The tiger dropped to its hunches seeing Rick as easier prey.

Negan couldn’t aim the gun.

Rick lifted his python.

The tiger pounced.

Its teeth were so big.

Rick fired.

It hit Rick with the force of a car. Rick fell to the ground, waiting for the pain and agony of teeth and claws. But there was nothing, it was still on top of him. He shoved at the soft fur and the tiger started moving. Rick tensed but it didn’t try to attack. He shoved again and the tiger rolled off him. Negan stood above them, his eyes wide and no less panicked than they had been on top of Moonshine.

“Where are you hurt?!” Negan demanded, dropping to his knees and touching Rick everywhere, as though searching him.

Rick pushed him away and sat up. “I’m not.”

“You’re bleeding!” Negan blinked and frowned. “Are you?”

Rick looked down at his body seeing blood covering his clothes and arms. “I think it’s the tiger’s. I shot it.”

“Me too.” Negan looked at the dead tiger and started laughing. “It’s a goddamn tiger! Fuck, did you call it Shere Khan?”

“Maybe?” Rick joined his laughter, falling to lay in the dirt again.

“It didn’t get you?” Negan asked again as they both sobered.

Rick shook his head. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a car, but no. Didn’t get me.”

Negan held out a hand and Rick let him pull him up to his shaking feet and came eye to eye with Negan, the mirth gone and in its place, anger. “It could have killed you!”

“It didn’t.”

“You have a fucking pistol, it could have killed you, one goddamn bite or a scratch! You are the stupidest mother fucker I’ve ever met!”

“And if I didn’t, it would have killed you!”

“Then let me die.”

“No! Negan, I’m not letting you die, you’re my brother goddamnit!” Rick shoved him backward. Negan stumbled, eyes wide. Rick’s own anger faded and he realized what he said. 

It was true. They had been getting closer before Daryl disappeared, especially since Judith’s accident. But traveling with him over the last few weeks, he knew he cared for Negan in a way he hadn’t expected to. The words hung heavy in the air between them, to break the tension, he smiled and added, “in law.”

Negan’s shoulders dropped, and he mirrored Rick’s soft smile.

Daryl tried to lie still. Every time he moved the plug brushed his prostate, making him gasp, and his cock would twitch. He didn't want Negan to think he wanted more.

But Negan held him, leaning heavily against his back as though pinning him. Keeping him in his place. Occasionally, his hips would rock, moving the plug, and he’d chuckle when Daryl hissed. He wondered if he should moan and push back against him, or roll over and blow the semi-hard cock pressing against the backs of his thighs. Something told him he did that a lot, but despite his resolve to burn his pride to ash, he couldn’t let this scrap go. Not tonight.

Eventually, Negan’s breathing evened out, and the slow torture stopped. Daryl’s wayward erection finally calming without Negan’s sporadic rutting. He still absent mindedly moved, jostling Daryl, but he was able to drift. Not exactly sleep, but float in soft thoughts and avoid thinking about his body.

At least Negan had removed the nipple clamps.

As the sun started to rise, Daryl needed a piss. He gently untangled himself from Negan, tensing when Negan hummed, waking up. Daryl usually waited for him to get up first, but his bladder had been getting urgent for an hour now.

He wondered if he was allowed to take the plug out himself if he needed to shit or if he had to ask Negan to do it.

Thankfully, that wasn't a problem yet.

"Goin’ huntin’?" Negan murmured with a yawn.

Daryl froze, need to pee forgotten.

Hunting.

Negan opened his eyes, smiling softly at him sleepily. "Been wondering how long it'd take you," he said through another yawn, wincing as it pulled at his split lip.

"I uh— yeah?" Maybe last night wasn’t just about getting back to zero, maybe he’d earned a reward. "Would wanna take a knife or somethin' with my crossbow?"

Negan’s smile turned sheepish. "Forgot to say, I brought the weapons back." He reached out to take Daryl's hand. "I think I was wrong to suggest taking them from you. I just didn't want Judith or RJ hurt."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the threat, the soft way he said it. More mind games. "Neither do I," he said stiffly. "Ever."

"Good. But I was thinking yesterday that if we are ever going to get back to normal, everything needs to. You know? And I want you to feel safe enough to talk to me about what happened." He pulled him in for a kiss. "But can you wait a few hours? I want to go out there with you the first time. Need to check on Cora, PT with Judith, and then make sure Rick isn't gonna try to get me back for yesterday."

"Second," Daryl corrected. At Negan's frown, he reminded him, "Violet." He needed Negan to remember he came back, that he didn’t have to fetch him or hunt him down. That he had been good, especially if he was going to see Judith and Rick.

Negan chuckled. "Right. The second time."

"Can wait," Daryl promised him, the chance to go out there was worth waiting until Negan was ready. "Gotta piss though." He took a cautious step, hissing as the plug shifted. He caught Negan's smirk and wondered if he would have to keep it in all day.

He could feel Negan's eyes on him as he peed and turned slightly so Negan could see even as his stomach rolled, feeling sick.

Negan hummed. "Well, that's a new one, Darlin'." He stood and approached Daryl, the erection that had tormented Daryl throughout the night bobbing out in front of him. He moved behind Daryl, reaching around him to take hold of his cock gently, aiming it into the toilet bowl.

With his other hand, Negan moved the plug slightly but expertly. Daryl’s dick didn’t seem to care how his emotions felt about the situation, peeing getting a little harder as it started to fill. For a second, Daryl thought he'd pull the plug out and fuck him over the toilet, then he pushed it back in.

"God, if I didn't have to go, I'd take this out of you and fuck you now." He kissed Daryl's shoulder and stepped back. “I love you, Darlin’.”

Negan felt Daryl rise with the sun and realized with a sinking feeling that his reprieve of Daryl being in the walls was over. With his cast off, the last excuse to keep him home was gone. He was surprised Daryl didn't go out hunting the moment it was off.

He was just relieved he agreed they could go together. The last thing he expected was for Daryl to look over his shoulder as he peed, a gleam in his eye. Watersports had never been Negan's thing, but he was up for anything Daryl wanted. Hell, he’d ask Daryl to pee on him if it meant Daryl was acting normal again.

He ran with it, stepping up behind Daryl and taking Daryl's cock, holding it as he peed while using his other hand to play with the plug, but he really couldn't stop to fuck him. He had too much to do before they could go out hunting. Sometimes the waiting was Daryl’s favorite part, well not favorite part, but he had mentioned more than once how much he enjoyed it. Both of them hard and aching for each other until they collided, unable to stop themselves.

Negan got dressed and made his way to the infirmary, straight to where Cora was sitting up in bed, attempting to burp the baby. Rosita was in the chair beside her burping Làzaro, talking Cora through different techniques.

"Hey, you beautiful women, how are you doing?" he asked both of them, but directed it mostly at Cora.

Cora smiled in Rosita's direction. "Okay. No milk continues."

"Which isn't a problem," Rosita assured her quickly. “Izzy is discharging them both today as well.”

"I'm glad you here. Wanted to talk," Cora said softly, a shy look coming across her face. Negan arched an eyebrow and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Wait for me," Warren called out, arriving with two glasses of water and handing one to each woman.

"What was your wife's name, before Daryl?" Cora asked once Warren was there.

"Which one?" Rosita sniped.

Negan glared at her and said, "Lucille. My real wife,” he added with another glare at Rosita.

"Lucille," Cora repeated, running her hand down the baby's back. “I like that.”

Negan glanced at the baby girl, understanding dawning. "Wow. Cora. I- I'm honored, really. But that name in these parts won't go down well."

"What about Louise?" A voice called out. Negan frowned and stood to open the curtain next to Cora's bed. Rick was sitting up in the bed grinning at them. His left eye was swollen shut, he and Negan had matching cuts on their lips, but he sported a bandage across his nose. "Lu for short."

"What the fuck are you still doing in here?" Negan asked concerned, looking him up and down. He hadn’t meant to do that much damage.

"Concussion. Izzy wanted to keep an eye on me overnight. She also had to reset my nose, so thanks for that.”

"Shit. Sorry, man."

Rick shook his head, still smirking. "I had fun. Sorry for going for your neck, that was a dick move."

Negan shrugged it off. “At least it wasn’t the prosthetic,” Negan said. He didn’t know how he would have reacted to the hidden knife so close to his throat, no matter how much he trusted Rick. “But it was fun.”

“Are you and Daryl okay now?” Daryl’s teasing that morning came to mind, and Negan smirked. Rick rolled his eyes. “Glad I could help?”

"And this is why I'll never understand men," Rosita said to Cora with a sigh.

While Negan was out, Daryl used the chance to take the plug out, breathing heavily as it pulled and burned and stretched. He wanted nothing more than to leave it out, throw it away maybe. But he couldn’t guess when Negan would want to fuck, he couldn’t risk being caught without it. So he put more lube on it to make it more comfortable and pushed it back in, wincing. The fresh lube helped, but it was getting uncomfortable after so long.

He wondered if he could ask Negan to remove it before they went out hunting, even if that meant they would fuck again. Riding a horse or bike would be very uncomfortable, but finally decided not to risk it. If Negan offered he’d take the opportunity, but asking for it felt dangerous with how volatile Negan had been yesterday. He needed to get used to anything Negan liked, so he could start asking for it. Initiate rather than just be passive, do better.

Deciding to just deal with the discomfort, he went downstairs. The plug rubbed against his prostate, sending sparks up and down his spine with every step. He couldn’t help how it made his cock fill, half hard as he moved around, in a state of perpetual arousal and shame.

He spotted the two duffle bags by the door, Negan had said he brought the weapons home. Deciding to be useful, better, Daryl put them on the table to reduce how much he had to bend over and searched through them. With each knife and bullet he thought about how Negan would look with it through his skull or his chest.

As he put all the knives in the cabinet, he considered hiding another one just in case Negan decided to take them away again, but it was too risky. He put as many away as he could, guessing where they fit. A few he put on his belt for the hunt, and then took the arrows out to check them over.

He found a couple of backpacks in the bottom of the bedroom closet and filled them with his usual supplies. A couple of extra knives, water, some jerky, ropes, and a multitool included in the cabinet supplies. After a moment, he carefully went into the side table downstairs and pulled out the lube, if he put it in the bottom of the bag he would have it if Negan decided to fuck him.

If Negan let him use it. Maybe he liked fucking Daryl with just his old cum and lube from the night before. A shiver of trepidation shot through him before he dismissed it, Negan couldn’t know that Daryl had reapplied lube this morning.

Maybe this was just about hunting. Negan had to see he was good for something beyond being on his knees or back. Despite how much time he’d been spending in both of those positions since Izzy told Negan he could resume normal activities ‘carefully’.

Suddenly, his uncovered arm caught his eye. Did carefully still apply?

The panic finally made his partial hard-on disappear. He let himself fall apart, just a little. A single ugly sob broke through his chest, but the tears stayed locked down. He leaned against the sink and shook while staring at the reflection of a stranger in the window, one with his eyes. After a minute, he realized he had to pull himself together. If Negan came back, he wouldn’t be happy, probably. The times he’d seemed the most turned on and interested in Daryl had been when he’d either been fighting him or initiating sex.

Daryl didn’t think tears and blubbering would keep him occupied, or he would have gone after Eugene.

I am Negan. Eugene’s voice echoed in his mind, sending a shiver through him. When had that happened? Because it sounded too real, it had to be another glimpse of a memory. The stab of betrayal that followed it was too sharp.

Daryl needed to make himself go blank. He couldn’t keep spiraling. A smack to the side of his head helped, the sting and humiliation grounded him. Not his face, couldn’t leave a mark. Only Negan could mark him.

Hunting, we’re just going hunting. If it turned into something else, he would handle it. No point in borrowing misery from the future. He needed to get a hold of himself. Pushing his emotions down, getting back to a normal place took time, he wasn’t sure he had.

He was done just in time for Negan to come back. He noticed the full cabinet immediately and glanced it over. “Thanks, Darlin’. I meant to do that this morning.”

“Didn’t take long.” Daryl shrugged, gripping his crossbow tightly and waiting for Negan to look at him and see the weapons on him. Was it wrong?

Finally, Negan turned and grinned at him. “Bit eager to get going? Maybe you should have packed and cleaned up. I’m not sure you’re ready.”

Daryl lifted the two bags. “Packed ‘em both.”

Negan chuckled. “Let me just get ready.”

He jogged up the stairs and came back down a few minutes later wearing his leather jacket. It had stayed safely in the closet since Daryl woke up, but with Negan wearing it, it looked worn. Older. He threw Daryl’s own vest to land on the table beside him. “Not gonna wear that?”

“Didn’t think,” Daryl murmured, pulling it on.

Negan went to the cabinet again, searching. “Strange order,” he muttered. “Did you see my knife? The one with the galaxy handle?” Negan asked, glancing back, eyebrows furrowed. “RJ’s been eyeing it, little Prick Junior.”

Daryl’s chest was too tight, he quickly thought over the knives he had packed, relief filling him when he remembered it. “Packed it already.”

Negan grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Darlin', course you did. Thanks.” He backed up to kiss Daryl’s cheek, reaching to squeeze his ass, making the plug shift inside him. Daryl bit his lip to keep from making noise, but immediately wondered if that’s what Negan wanted. “C’mon. Let's go hunt Bambi.”

Negan slipped his hand into Daryl’s and led him outside.

On the way to the stables, Daryl saw the Savior Jerry talking to Yumiko. She reminded him of Arat, strong and capable, and Daryl wondered if she was at an outpost or back at Sanctuary. Jerry glanced over at them and said something to Yumiko before jogging to catch up.

“Hey, you two going hunting?” His smile was friendly and his eyes darted between them, lingering on their bag.

“Yup! ‘Bout time Daryl stretched his legs again.”

“Mind if I come?” Jerry asked. “Haven’t had a lot of time with Daryl lately.” Jerry smiled at Daryl and he remembered hands on him, holding him back from the fight. Shame still twisted in his stomach. He remembered with a sinking sensation that made the butt plug twitch, Negan sent his wives to Saviors that pleased him.

Negan shook his head. “I think we got it, not going far or for very long.” Jerry shifted and opened his mouth, and Negan moved to put his hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “Daryl, have Marjan get the horses ready?”

He pulled Jerry off to the side and Daryl hesitated, panic spiking when he heard Rick’s name. “—Rick in the infirmary. Keep an eye and make sure he stays—“

Negan sat on Moonshine, sweating in his leather jacket, but it was good against walker bites. He glanced at Daryl on Peach as they rode out of Alexandria. Daryl winced again and Negan wanted to prompt to find out where he was hurting before reminding himself not to mother hen him, not out here. But Negan decided he could give him another back massage when they got home this evening.

He felt a little guilty telling Jerry not to come with them, but this was a chance to be completely alone with Daryl. To have Daryl in his element without the added pressure of anyone but Negan himself.

They rode for a while, getting as far from Alexandria as they could while planning on being home for sunset, before Daryl stopped Peach and climbed off her back, wincing again. He crouched and played with a white plant Negan hadn’t seen often.

“What’s that?” Negan asked him.

“Cherokee Rose. Didn’t think they grew up here,” Daryl murmured. He plucked one and put it in Peach’s mane. At Negan’s questioning look, Daryl shrugged. “For Judith. He climbed back on Peach and gestured. “This way.”

Negan grinned, following Daryl’s lead through the woods. Both horses followed slowly behind them, not needing to be led. 

They didn’t talk, but that was normal, he was too used to Daryl shushing him while trying to hunt. Negan just enjoyed watching Daryl. Seeing his husband wearing his own vest, gleaming from the sunscreen Negan had reminded him to wear, and stalking through the woods like he belonged here.

It took a couple more hours before Daryl went still, lifted his hand to stop Negan, smoothly raised his crossbow, and fired into what looked like nothing but the woods to Negan.

Negan frowned in the direction Daryl had fired, still not seeing anything. But followed him, finding the deer dead on the ground, an arrow protruding from its chest. 

Center mass. A fast and clean kill. Daryl had explained on many occasions how going for fancy just let people starve while you patted your back for the one percent you did bring home. But the chest shot was perfectly placed for a pretty much instant kill.

“God, you never fail to impress me,” Negan commented. Daryl blinked at him, a flush rising on his cheeks.

Negan glanced around, listening for a second for the sound of walkers before darting forward to kiss Daryl hard, licking into his mouth. He squeezed his ass, and Daryl hissed.

Negan pulled back, frowning. “What’s wrong, Darlin’?”

“Nothin’. Jus’ gettin’ used to it.”

“Getting used to what?”

“The plug,” Daryl murmured, face flushing.

The two words sent blood pooling into Negan’s dick so fast it nearly hurt. “You’re still wearing the plug? Fuck yes, Darlin’.”

Daryl usually took it out by the morning. He liked it in theory, but got frustrated with it every time he tried to walk. Muttering about not wanting everyone in town knowing he had been fucked.

Negan kissed Daryl again, pushing him back against a nearby tree, not caring about the dead deer or two horses waiting nearby, he needed to fuck him now. If Daryl was wearing the plug, he wanted it too. He wanted to be ready.

He slid his hand under Daryl’s jeans, finding the plug settled between his ass cheeks and tapped it slightly. Daryl hissed, hips rocking into him, the plug right against his prostate. Negan knew he had to have been hard most of the day. Just waiting for Negan to notice, knowing it would drive his husband wild. 

Negan turned him to press him against the tree, nibbling at Daryl’s neck and shoulder around his vest as he pulled his pants and boxers over his hips and could see the shining end of the plug. He pulled Daryl’s hips back, getting a better angle and pulled it out slowly, watching Daryl’s ass stretch and then clench over the emptiness. Negan pressed his thumb pad over his hole, checking on him, teasing him. His ass was slightly swollen from the plug all day, and he wasn’t lubed enough.

Negan grabbed his bag looking for the sunscreen, it was naturally made, it would work.

“Got lube,” Daryl croaked. “In my bag.”

Negan groaned, reaching into his own pants to squeeze the end of his cock before he came from just his husband’s words. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” He found the small pot, nestled near the bottom and quickly covered his aching cock.

Daryl didn’t move from his position, leaning against the tree, gripping it with both hands, ass out and exposed. Waiting for him.

Negan dropped to his knees and licked him, soothing the hurt there, and fingered him slowly with the lube. Daryl cursed, rocking back onto him. Negan could eat him out for hours, but they couldn’t stay out here long. He stood and lined up before sliding into him in one thrust. Daryl cursed, gripping the tree and pushing back against him.

Negan gripped Daryl’s hips in a bruising hold, fingers lining up on the marks he had already left. He knew how much Daryl he loved this. Rough, fast, on the edge of painful.

He wouldn’t last long.

“Stroke yourself, Darlin’. Wanna see.” 

Daryl adjusted his hold on the tree and wrapped his left hand around his cock, stroking himself. Trying to make it last longer with the hand with missing fingers. Negan could only see his hand moving rapidly, but it was enough. He pulled Daryl as close as he could and came, filling his ass until he was leaking around Negan’s cock. His ass clenched and Daryl gasped, jerking as he came, thick cum covering the bark.

Negan groaned and pulled out of him, watching the cum leaking down his thighs. He thought about putting the plug back inside him, but he glanced down to see it in the dirt. Not worth the risk of infection. He used the handkerchief from Daryl's back pocket to clean him up. Then pulled him around to kiss him again, pressing him against the tree so that he could feel all of him. Their spent cocks brushing against each other.

Daryl glanced at the plug.

“I know, I should have put it on the bag,” Negan said with a pout. “You distracted me. Can always wear it tomorrow. I’m sure I can fill you up again.” Negan kissed him hard, wanting to fuck him again but they should get back.

When he stepped back, Daryl glanced over his shoulder, and his expression shifted. It was a quick look, a considering one. Negan followed his gaze to see the walker, it had come out of nowhere, but was close. It growled and reached for him, only for a knife to slam into its head, stopping it.

It fell to the ground, and Negan spun back to Daryl. His husband’s face was carefully blank, lowering his hand from where he threw the knife.

Negan thought he had to have imagined it.

But–

Did Daryl just hesitate?

Chapter Text

"Would you have killed him? Back then?" Rick blurted after they found both horses and a house to stay in for the night. It smelled rotten and moldy but the walls were a relief against any more tigers. The question had been on his mind for so long that he couldn't hold back anymore.

Negan raised his eyebrows. "Daryl? I wanted him to join my wives but I doubted it wo—"

"No—" Rick licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Did he want the answer, considering his friendship with Negan now? Yes. He had to know. "Carl. In Alexandria, when the Kingdomers joined my side of the fight and Shiva - the tiger interrupted you.”

Negan's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed as though offended. "I don't kill kids."

"Sure looked like you were gonna."

"That was the point. I would have missed at the last second. I thought about killing you, but I wanted Carl to understand what I was building. Killing you would have made him a wildcard. So I would have missed him by a hair. Used it to prove how merciful I could be. Would have taken him back to the Sanctuary, and Daryl. Cut a few fingers from Daryl to prove a point, maybe taken an eye to cowe Carl. Simon would have been pissed, but I killed him anyway."

Rick hummed, taking in his words. Negan jumped and turned away from something, eyes growing hard. Then, suddenly speaking loudly, Negan asked, “Who’s tiger was that anyway?”

“Shiva? Ezekiel’s.”

“And why did he have a tiger ?”

Rick laughed softly. “He worked at a zoo before. He saved the tiger I think.”

“Just proves my point. The Kingdom had enough food to feed a tiger. They clearly didn’t want to share outside of what I took.”

Rick hummed and they fell silent for a moment, Ezekiel on Rick’s mind. He had a lot of respect for the King, and would never stop being grateful for him turning up at the perfect moment, saving them all. Would Carl still be alive if Negan took him to Sanctuary?

“Carol would be with us, wouldn’t she?” Negan said suddenly. For a split second, Rick heard Carl and his heart stopped, Negan having the same thought as him. He blinked and tried to focus on the present.

“In a heartbeat. If she’s home before we are, we’ll probably meet her on the road.”

Negan chuckled, falling quiet again but his head tilted, looking at the empty space beside him.

“Negan?” Rick prompted when Negan tensed, his eyes downcast.

“Hm?” He jerked his head away. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Negan nodded but then licked his lips, opening and closing his mouth a few times. Rick waited, letting him get his thoughts in order. Finally, he said, “If– if we find him and he’s not–” Negan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “If I can’t do it–”

“I’ll put him down,” Rick promised, even as the words felt heavy on his tongue.

“Not him. Rick, if I can’t kill myself I want you to do it,” Negan said the words slowly but in one breath, making sure Rick understood but also making sure he could get them out. “Not today, not tomorrow. But then.”

“What? No. Negan–”

“I’m not scared of dying, Rick. I’m scared of losing myself. My wife died and I became a monster. I did what I had to do but the way I stopped feeling—" He shook his head. "I love Daryl more than I ever loved her. I don't trust myself.”

“I trust you.”

“Please, Rick. At least promise me you won't throw me back in that cell. Throw me out, or just kill me.”

Rick opened his mouth ready to argue, but Negan flinched away from nothing and Rick saw his fear clear on his face. Terrified of the future.

“Okay. I promise.” Somehow the words felt worse than the promise to put Daryl down. At least it wasn’t a betrayal of his friend.

Negan saw.

Negan saw him hesitate.

Fuck.

He was so fucked. He had to fix it, but Negan just told him in a dangerously quiet voice to help him get the deer and go back to Alexandria.

He didn’t know what to do to fix it, so he followed the order and decided to stick close to him, he would get in the way of Negan hurting anyone else. Offer himself up, no matter what it took.

Negan liked to claim him, show off marks of ownership. Would doing something in public fix this? Could he get away with a kiss or should he not even bother, go straight to his knees? Warren’s comment about sex education and the memory of the desk meant he’d probably done something like that before. Maybe it wouldn’t even be that humiliating; everyone used to it enough that they wouldn’t stare.

As they neared the gates, Daryl tried to talk but his tongue felt five sizes too big for his mouth. He wanted to try and fix this before they got to town with an audience. He pulled Peach to a stop, Negan made it a few yards before he stopped and turned the horse he rode - Moonshine.

He slid off his horse and saw Negan frown before doing the same. What if they got back and Negan ordered him to the house rather than let Daryl make it up to him? This needed to happen out here; Negan’s mood needed to be better before he ran into someone Daryl cared about. 

Peach stood still when Daryl walked away from her, trying to get a grip. He looked at the Cherokee Rose to ground himself, pulling strength from Carol.

Talk or fuck first?

“What do you see?” Negan was staring into the trees, eyes wary. He hadn’t been wary before, he’d been relaxed and smiling. 

Daryl could still feel the bark under his hands and hear Negan’s grunting as he fucked him. The almost perpetual ache of being fucked was just background to all of his other pains. Negan was close enough now.

Daryl reached out and grabbed him, taking handfuls of his leather jacket, and pulled him close as his back hit another tree. It wasn’t smooth, Negan jerking and fighting him and not pressing close like he’d been.

“Fuck, Daryl,” Negan gasped, stumbling a little. Daryl sealed their lips and licked into his mouth, canting his hips to grind his soft dick up, needing it to start filling. The taste of blood fought with the scent of leather and books. His body calmed like it usually did with Negan’s scent surrounding him, even as Negan only tentatively responded.

The second they separated, Negan pulled back again, and Daryl knew with a sinking feeling it hadn’t worked. Usually, Negan would already have his hands on Daryl. Instead, they stayed plastered to the tree on either side of his head, caging him but not touching him. 

Maybe he should get to his knees, or kiss down Negan’s neck and chest as he slowly lowered himself. Negan didn’t have to do anything but stay right there.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me. Please.” Negan’s eyes searched his, looking for weakness. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” Speak when you’re spoken to.

“I–I–” Daryl searched for the words, something Negan said the day before. “I can’t shake it.” Negan’s face softened. Not enough, he had to give up more. Do better. “Maybe… maybe this weren’t a good idea. M’sorry.”

“The fucking against a tree for the second time today? Or being out beyond the walls at all?” There was an almost hurt note in the wry question. But Daryl knew there could only be one answer.

“Being out.” He didn’t hide the pain in his voice, giving up a freedom he’d only just gotten, and Negan closed his eyes like he was savoring it.

“It’s okay, Darlin’.” Negan’s eyes blazed with some emotion Daryl couldn’t figure out. “We’ll figure it out, together. Let’s go home, we’ll try again another day. It doesn't have to be all at once.”

Daryl nodded as Negan dropped his arms and stepped back. Negan’s hand caught his eye and Daryl almost grabbed it, slid his fingers so they intertwined, he knew he should. Was this enough? The apology and weakness, and giving up going outside the walls. Would he be satisfied with just that?

Peach wickered a greeting and looked down the road. Negan’s shoulders squared and suddenly Daryl was standing next to the man who emerged from the RV, the leader of the Saviors. Nausea pushed at him. He never forgot who Negan was but now he saw how much Negan hid himself, no wonder others could forget. After fifteen years, how many could keep the fear if they rarely saw him for who he was? 

Negan went to Moonshine and pulled out his crowbar, resting it on his shoulder instead of Lucille, and Daryl notched his crossbow. He couldn’t hesitate again. He needed to either kill Negan or defend him, but he had to do it instantly. 

Both of them looked down the road as a large group approached, a few people at the front leading a cart with some boxes on it. Daryl had wondered when he’d see another tribute. Something arrived nearly every week, from different communities. But Negan had started calling it ‘trade’ in keeping with his new friendlier image.

Negan lowered his crowbar first, sliding it back into the sheath on Moonshine, and Daryl recognized the person at the front of the group.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, heart pounding as Maggie waved. With how wary Negan was, could he spin fast enough to shoot him. Were the people with the cart Saviors?

The group came to a stop just in front of them and she climbed off her horse. His heart sank, the constant ball of guilt became a rock in his stomach as Maggie grinned at them. He had messed up and now Maggie was here, how could he protect her too?

Maggie pressed against the railing at Sanctuary, practically bending backwards to get away from Negan’s sneering face. Negan was in front of her, his body pressed tight and dwarfing her with a knife to her neck. She had her own weapon, the knife in her hand was captured by his grip on her wrist. Her face twisted in rage and terror.

He had to protect them all, he could do it, he just needed to get Negan away from her. He could flirt, he could do anything. She gestured for the rest of the group to continue, stopping to kiss the foreheads of an Asian teen and a younger blonde boy. “Go on. Just find me before sundown.”

“Sure. Bye Mom! Hi Daryl, Negan, bye Daryl, Negan,” the Asian boy said, leading the younger one towards the gates, the large group following. Daryl stared at him, the ball of guilt heavier than ever.

That was the baby. Glenn’s son.

"Well shit, didn't realize you were coming today,” Negan said, moving forward a step and it pulled Daryl’s attention back on Maggie. Negan was between them. He should stop it.

"I couldn't miss the Lil Asskicker’s birthday, could I?" Maggie stepped forward, Daryl moved to get between them, and—

She hugged Negan.

Even Negan looked surprised, pulling back and frowning at her. "We hug now?"

"Shut up. Don't make it weird." She frowned at him, looking him up and down. “Why are you wearing that and what happened to your face?” Negan touched the cut on his lip as though he’d forgotten about it.

“Sparred Rick. I won.” He winked. “And this is good against walker bites. But God fucking shit, it’s hot.” He slid his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it on his crowbar. 

Maggie smiled softly and then focused on Daryl. "Sorry, I haven't been by since you came back! How are you doing?”

She reached out to him and Daryl accepted the hug. His skin– his entire body burned. She shouldn’t touch him, he was tainted, he was Negan’s plaything.

He got Glenn killed. She should hate him.

“Connie and Kelly say hi,” Maggie said as she pulled back, “and sorry they couldn’t make it, Connie broke her arm so Kelly’s sticking with her to translate the one handed ASL.”

“Broke her arm? Is she okay?” Negan asked, concerned.

“Yeah, stupid accident, she’s fine though and told me to still come.

“You don't gotta be here,” he said softly, glancing at Negan meaningfully.

"Of course I do." What did she mean by that? Negan had seemed surprised she was there as well. She smiled at him like it wasn't his fault Glenn was dead. Had it been long enough she stopped hating him? "Besides, I brought you a gift."

Daryl frowned. Maggie stepped to the side. Most of the group she had with her had passed, letting him see the person hanging near the back.

Carol looked at them and waved. 

Daryl forgot everything, he forgot his place. He forgot his pain and fear.

He sprinted the short distance and fell into her. Carol yelped in surprise but caught him, holding him as he dropped his head in the crook of her shoulder. 

She was alive. She was here.

She shouldn't be here. She was alive, but she was near Negan. He didn’t want her anywhere near him.

"Did you miss me?"

"Where'd you go?" He whispered, forgetting he was supposed to know.

"Everywhere. I'll give the council a rundown of what I found." She put her hands on either side of his face, studying him. "More importantly… are you okay?"

Daryl started to shake his head, but footsteps had him forcing a smile in place, and nodded instead. "M'good."

Negan watched Daryl sprint towards Carol, crashing into the wide-eyed woman.

The way Daryl dropped his head into her shoulder reminded him of when they came back the first time and Daryl fell into Carol, taking every bit of comfort the smaller woman could offer him. Maybe it was just a brave face Daryl was putting on for him .

The way Daryl had kissed him before everyone arrived was different. Desperate.

Pulling back made Negan feel like he was breaking the promise he made to himself back in the tavern, to be whatever Daryl needed. But that was before they were real. Before they were even friends . What just happened had made Negan uneasy, feeling used, in a way that made his stomach twist. 

"I'm a bit offended," Maggie commented, stepping up beside Negan. "I got an awkward smile and a half hug."

Negan hummed. "Yeah. I noticed that too."

Maggie looked up at him. “What aren’t you sayin’, Negan?”

Negan forced a grin in place, this wasn’t her burden to bear. “Nothing. I’m glad you came, Maggie.” He approached Daryl and Carol, arms outstretched. “Hey! Where’s my hug, Carol?” he demanded.

Carol rolled her eyes but hugged him. As she did, she whispered, “What’s wrong with Daryl?”

Relief nearly made his knees buckle. Someone else saw it. “Later,” he murmured, squeezing her arm as he pulled away. He then looked towards the road where the crowd was disappearing around the corner. “Why so many Whisperers?” Negan asked Maggie. “Issues with the trade?”

“Rick didn’t tell you?” Maggie asked, and Negan saw Daryl tense again. “For Judith’s birthday tomorrow, she wants it at the pond.”

“I know that?”

“He requested some Whisperers for the walker population.”

“Like walker bouncers,” Carol commented with a grin, when they all looked at her frowning, Carol shrugged.

Negan laughed. “Wow, Prick using his brain for once?” He put his arm around Carol’s shoulders, ignoring her trying to swat him off. Squeezing her slightly off balance so that she wryly gave up, accepting the rough affection. “And what about you? Where have you been?”

“North mostly. Upstate New York, but I’ll tell the council about it later. We going in or what? I’m starving and I can smell dinner on the wind.”

“Sure.” Negan let her go to take Moonshine’s reins. Daryl was frozen on the side of the road still, his eyes darting between the three of them.

Negan reached out a hand and after a second of consideration, Daryl took it. Negan squeezed, wanting nothing more than to get home with him and be alone for a while but he knew how much Daryl missed Carol and wouldn’t suggest dragging him away from her just yet.

Chaos reigned as everyone rushed to greet Carol and Maggie. Once the first round of hugs and cheers was over they all moved to the town hall for dinner. They pushed two tables together to fit extras on so their family could sit together. The horses had been taken back to the stables, but Daryl had grabbed the rose and slipped it into his pocket quietly. He also got away with hanging his crossbow on the back of his chair, a safety net.

Daryl sat between Negan and Carol, trying not to shift at the ache because it made Negan look at him with a knowing heated look. He needed to eat but every mouthful tasted like ash and settled like a rock in his stomach. Negan liked him eating, he wanted him to take care of himself. He could do that. It was one rule he could follow. Be better.

Carol was ignoring her dinner to make funny faces at Lazaro. On her other side sat the Savior Jerry who usually sat at his own table with his wife and some other Saviors. That he was sitting next to Carol felt like a threat, Negan nodded at him when they first walked into town. Daryl was sure he heard Jerry call her “my Queen” and promised her a bed for the night. Daryl started to interrupt, she could stay in their spare room - near Negan. Was that worse? So he stayed quiet, seeing her bright smile directed at the Savior.

Did she even know? 

She wasn’t at the line-up, she didn’t see Negan kill Abraham or Glenn. She hadn’t been there when Daryl was being dragged around Alexandria. He’d looked for her to make sure she stayed safe, originally thinking she had hidden like Michonne. Then worried about where she was, if she was mounting a rescue. Had she only met this benevolent mask of Negan’s? If she had, could she see through it? 

She knew dangerous men, she could read people as well as Daryl could.

“You trust him?” Carol’s voice floated into his mind.

“Yeah, I do.”

How could he ever trust Negan?

Did Carol see through the lies?

Did anyone? Rick ? He heard Rick talking about his facial injuries like it was fun, teasing about making sure to stay on Negan’s good side. Like Negan didn’t beat him up because Rick touched Daryl’s knee.

Everyone seemed to forget and forgive so easily. Rosita had laughingly asked which good side as she gestured her face where the board had hit her, the bruise and cut finally gone. Her injury might be healed but Rick’s left eye was swollen shut and his nose tapped with a few other cuts and bruises around his face.

“Are you going to tell us where you went?” Rick asked Carol, taking another mouthful of stew. Daryl’s eyes snagged on the cuts on his fist, the two fingers wrapped together as though one was broken.

“Hm? Oh.” Carol looked away from Lazaro just as Dog came to their table. Daryl took a piece of meat from his plate and gave it to him under the table, Negan caught his eye and smirked, catching him. Daryl winced and scratched behind Dogs ears instead of giving him more.

“Upstate New York mostly. There’s a lot to tell you but not right now,” Carol continued with a pointed look around the busy town hall. With all the ‘Whisperers’ it was busier than usual, Daryl was glad they caught a deer for the town. “Though I started west and heard stories that Texas is a radioactive wasteland.”

“I heard rumors about that,” Negan said. At the questioning looks he got, he explained, “When I escaped before I found Daryl.”

Daryl jerked his head to stare at Negan sure he didn’t hear that right. Negan escaped? Escaped what ? Found him where?

The horrifying thought occurred to Daryl. Did he bring Negan in? Make them trust him before Negan started taking over piece by piece?

Did Daryl betray his family?

Misunderstanding his stare, Negan prompted, “I thought I told you back in the tavern?”

“I uh– yeah. Guess you did,” Daryl murmured. Negan glanced at his hand where Daryl gripped the spoon, nearly bending the metal.

“What’s been going on around here?” Carol asked, pulling Negan’s attention away from Daryl. She then poked her tongue out at Lazaro, laughing when he made a vague effort of trying to reach for it.

“We’ve welcomed two new members into Alexandria, of the offspring variety,” Eugene started listing off details, “As you saw, Judith had graduated to self-ambulatory without the assistance of crutches. A combination of the massive heat dispersal of lightning and the wood that we use on most buildings meant the stables had an incendiary incident. Our favorite prevailing redneck vanished for months to locals still unknown. Negan and Rick went on a quest to retrieve him, which was ultimately successful. Project Palisades is well underway and we’ve seen—”

“What?” Carol looked away from Lazaro for the first time, head jerking around to Daryl.

“Project Palisades is the brick wall expansion,” Eugene explained with slight confusion. “Jared thinks–”

“No,” Carol waved her hand effectively shushing Eugene and focused on Daryl, he could feel Negan’s eyes on him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Daryl winced, damnit. He quickly corrected, “ okay . I’m okay,” he tried hard not to look at Negan. Be better . “Got my cast off few days ago.”

“Cast?” Carol’s worried eyes trailed up and down Daryl.

“Arm.” Daryl gestured to his left arm. “Was broke.” But Carol’s eyes locked on his hand. She adjusted Lazaro in her arm so she could take it, running her thumb over the scars of his missing fingers. When she looked up at him again he could see the apology and pain in her face. Daryl just smiled back, it wasn’t her fault. She was back now and he wanted nothing more than for her to go again, get out of danger.

Carol dropped his hand and turned onto the table again. “I still can’t believe Judith is walking. It’s incredible.”

Daryl was grateful for the change of subject and managed to eat most of his dinner as the conversation turned lighter around them.

He looked up as someone approached, one of the men from the group Maggie brought. “Mr Daryl? Lydia wanted me to let you know she is glad you have returned.”

Most of the time when someone just gave him a name it didn’t trigger a memory, but this time Daryl felt a sickening rush. Guilt, pain, grief. A young teen, barely older than Judith sporting bruises and ripped clothing. I didn’t protect her.

“Thank you,” Daryl managed to choke out.

“Hey! That’s my seat, you can’t take it just ‘cause I had to help Judith home!” RJ shouted, pulling most of the table’s attention to him as he glared at a smirking Hershel. Rick and Michonne immediately started to stand but Negan was faster, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

“She won’t kick me out,” Negan said quietly, “Stay.”

A rock settled in Daryl’s stomach. No.

Rick swallowed but sunk into his chair. Michonne hesitated a moment longer, her face twisted in concern. But with Rick’s urging and a quiet, “Don’t fight,” Michonne sat back down, her expression unchanging.

“Back soon,” Negan promised with a hand running across Daryl’s back. “Dog, stay,” he said when Dog started to follow.

Daryl gripped his spoon wishing for a knife. He couldn’t let him go. He might hurt Judith. Use her to punish him for all of the things he’d done since Negan last fucked him. Each moment already felt like too many marks against him.

But even as his mind worked, nothing came to him. All he could do was sit and watch Negan leave.

No.

He wasn’t going to sit this one out. He was going to do something, protect her in a way he hadn’t for years.

Daryl stood suddenly, getting the attention of the table as his chair scraped along the floor. “Need ta piss,” he muttered, he wanted to take his crossbow but that was too obvious, any number of Saviors could see. Dog could come with him. He was protective of Judith but it would be too obvious. “Dog, stay,” he ordered and followed Negan quickly, empty-handed. Negan went by their house first, Daryl frowned, confused. He considered following him in, but if Negan told him to stay, or went out later… Would Daryl be able to stop him?

Indecision paralyzed him, too many options and ways everything could go wrong. He was still standing in the shadows of their neighbor’s house when Negan emerged. There was something small in his hands. Daryl couldn’t make out what it was.

He watched Negan let himself into the Grimes house and Daryl waited a moment, staying back, keeping his footsteps light. His heart was beating too fast. What was he going to do to her?

Daryl didn’t close the front door, worried he might need a quick escape. Voices drifted down the stairs. He looked around, he didn’t have anything to protect them with, his crossbow at the house. An abandoned knife sat on the coffee table beside a sharpening stone and some comic books. He took it and crept upstairs. Instinct or memory told him which steps squeaked, letting him avoid them.

“That’s… different,” Negan said, suddenly gasping, sounding out of breath, “Miss Grimes.”

“Don’t forget, I am Negan .” Judith hissed, the noise pained.

Negan laughed. “I don’t know what’s worse for Rick to overhear, you calling me Dad or hearing you say that.”

No. No. No .

Daryl shoved the door open and took in the scene.

Negan was sitting on Judith’s bed. She'd taken off the skirt she was wearing and had on tight shorts. Her whole leg was braced behind Negan's back, leg bent. He sat between them, her partial leg in his lap. Her prosthetic was leaning against the bed and Negan's hands were on her thigh. One of their pots of a pale cream on the bed beside him.

Negan's hands on his back, massaging and admiring his work as a half-hard cock brushed against him.

Refusing sex outside the wall suddenly made sense. He was going to take it from Judith, he had been grooming her the whole time. His anger at Daryl finally gave him the perfect opportunity to hurt him and get what he wanted. Two birds with one stone.

Daryl saw red.

He sprang forward, grabbing Negan by his shirt and pulling him up off the bed. Away from Judith, pushing him as Negan tried to struggle back to the bed, slamming him into the wall by the bedroom door he finally got the knife pressed to Negan’s throat. That stopped his struggling as though Daryl froze every muscle in his body.

“No,” he snapped, getting in Negan’s face. They might need Negan now, he might be the reason they survived. But he couldn’t let him do that.

“No. Not her,” Daryl spoke dangerously low, promising him every level of pain Daryl could think of. “I’ll play your fuckin’ games, I’ll be your fuckin’ whore, I’ll let you beat up Rick. But you do not hurt her! You do not touch her. You got it?!”

Negan blinked a few times, then asked in a surprisingly soft voice, “What?”

Chapter Text

“I'm trying!”

The shout woke Rick, making him reach for his gun before his eyes focused on Negan. They were camping for the night in a house just on the border of North and South Carolina. 

Negan was pacing, moving around something Rick couldn’t see and jolting away from nothing. It wasn't the first time Rick had seen him talk to himself, but there was an edge to it now. Desperation.

“I haven't stopped!" Negan snapped, freezing as though confronting someone. "We need to sleep."

There was silence and his head tilted like he was listening, his face screwing up like he was angry.

“You think I haven't thought of that? He wouldn't leave his family.”

Rick clenched his jaw and wondered again if he should say something. If he could really keep ignoring what was happening.

In the months before the bridge and his long stay with the CRM, Rick had noticed a change in Negan. Down in the basement cell. Beyond the hair growth and paling skin, something was breaking. There were a couple of times, as he walked down into the room, he’d catch Negan talking to someone who wasn’t there. Rick didn’t care enough to worry about it then, had honestly taken a perverse joy in seeing Negan slowly losing his bravado. 

But this was something else. Something changed over the last three years, especially over the last few weeks.

Negan seemed to be losing his mind.

Rick sat up and Negan’s head whipped to him so fast it had to hurt.

“Rick– sorry. I must have drifted off.” He jerked again, his head turning slightly to the space beside him as though he were fighting not to look at someone who said his name.

“No, Negan. You’re wide awake. Who you talkin' to?”

Negan stared at him. His face closed off, showing nothing but the same small smirk that drove Rick insane. Now he knew it meant Negan didn't know what to say, but was trying to bluff or look intimidating.

Rick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think it's time to go back. Regroup. Rest—”

Negan sat up straighter. “I'm not going back anywhere."

Rick worked his jaw trying to find the right words. “The last week, you've been getting worse. I'm worried about you, Brother.” He needed Negan to listen. But the term of affection only seemed to anger him, as he saw through Rick's manipulation.

“And you think it'll be better at home without him?” Negan wrinkled his nose at Rick. “This is nothing new. I'm fine. But you are right. You should go back. I've been telling you to go back since we left."

"I'm not going back without you. Especially not while you're like this."

Negan laughed loudly, with no humor in it. “You really are a prick.”

“What?”

“This is my life! Talking to fucking ghosts! You locked me up. Alone . For nearly eight years! Inside a small, cold room, with a boarded up window. I lost my mind a long time ago. Talking to ghosts was the only thing that kept me… sane .” He giggled at the word and Rick's stomach sank.

Christ.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. As they traveled Rick had suspected Negan was seeing things, but he hadn't imagined for a second how bad it was. How long Negan had been suffering, how much was his fault. “I didn't know.” 

It wasn't enough. Guilt ate at him, because regardless of being gone he was the one that set the standard for how Negan was to be treated. Showed everyone how he expected it to continue.

Negan shook his head. “Why would you? You come back, try to fuck me over, and nearly cause me to lose the best thing I've ever had, without a second to think about the horror that I lived down there.” Negan glared and for a moment Rick remembered that they were once enemies. "A six year old little girl had more empathy than you. Your goddamn wife! Your fucking council.”

“Negan–”

“No!” Negan snapped, his eyes dark reminding Rick of the man he met in the clearing. “You might have felt alone at the CRM. But you were at least human. Not a monster for kids to dare each other to get near.” The pain in those words hit Rick like a blow to the chest, as though it were the worst part. “No one treated you worse than a zoo animal, you had people who talked to you. You had a family that loved you. If you died, if you gave up, you had people out there that would mourn you. You never had someone piss through your fucking window!” Negan took a deep breath and then asked, “Are you awake for watch now?”

“Yes,” Rick croaked.

“Good. I'm gonna sleep.”

Negan flinched again, eyes darting to the side, before he laid down on the couch, back to Rick.

“Hey! That’s my seat, you can’t take it just ‘cause I had to help Judith home!” RJ shouted, pulling half the town hall's attention to him as he glared at a smirking Hershel.

Negan cursed under his breath. He should have noticed Judith and RJ sneaking out, he was too distracted by Daryl. Negan's lips still tingled from the kiss that wasn’t right. His focus kept being drawn to the way Daryl kept looking from Maggie and Carol to him, like he was trying to figure something out. At least Negan could see Carol eyeing Daryl, as concerned as Negan was.

At RJ's shout, Negan got to his feet at the same time as Rick and Michonne. But if she snuck out, she didn’t want them to know she had needed help. Hell, she didn’t want Negan to know either. But she would kick her parents out if they tried to crowd her too much or kept asking if she was okay. It just made her more determined to be okay.

Like he was doing to Daryl.

Damnit. Negan pushed Daryl from his mind for now. As worried as he was, he owed Judith everything a million times over. Negan put a hand on Rick’s shoulder, stopping him.

“She won’t kick me out,” Negan said quietly trying not to draw attention to them, “Stay.”

Rick swallowed but sat back down with a sigh, knowing he was right. Michonne hesitated a moment longer, irritated, but she finally sat down at Rick’s urging not to start a fight between them.

Negan walked past Daryl, running a soothing hand over his shoulders. “Back soon,” Negan promised and left the town hall, unsure why he felt the need to hide his limp. “Dog, stay,” he ordered when he started to follow.

His left leg was aching from kneeling to massage Judith the day before and the hunt today. Fucking Daryl against a tree had felt incredible, but he was paying for it now. Then there was riding Moonshine. The month inside the walls, watching over Daryl and trying to get back to normal, meant his body was rebelling. He pushed the pain away. A quick run home meant he could grab the moisturizer from the drawer, and then he went to the townhouses.

He let himself into the Grimes' house and upstairs to Judith’s bedroom. He knocked lightly.

“I’m fine, Dad!”

Negan chuckled. “Two more guesses.”

“Negan?”

Negan pushed open the door slightly to see Judith sitting on the edge of her bed. Her prosthetic leg was off, and she rubbed at the muscle underneath. Negan smirked and said teasingly, “I don’t think Rick would be happy about you calling me Dad.”

Judith smiled sheepishly. “Thought RJ told Mom or Dad. Told him not to.” 

Negan suddenly recalled the mischievous smirk on RJ’s face as he shot them a look out of the corner of his eye right after making the announcement. The crafty little shit.

“No, he just told the entire hall while telling Hershel off for taking his seat. Your Mom and Dad wanted to come, but I thought you might be aching again?” He held up the moisturizer.

She shrugged, looking away and flushing. “I uh… with the party tomorrow being at the pond, I wanted to practice. I’ve been in the water most of the day with Mom and Dad, but now I’m regretting it.”

“Why didn’t you get me?” He closed her bedroom door and leaned against the wall to give her space if she didn’t want him there.

Judith shrugged again and chewed on her lip. “I can’t ask you to massage my legs every day," she said eventually.

“You can and you will.” He pushed off the wall to sit on the end of her bed. “Every day, five times a day if it helps you, Jude.”

“I can handle a slight ache. But–”

“Judith, shut up," Negan interrupted. Judith frowned at him. "Change into shorts, then I can massage you?”

Judith laughed brightly. “Got some underneath.” She slipped her skirt off and laid back on the bed.

“Here.” Negan adjusted her legs to sit with her whole leg behind him and her amputated leg on his lap to massage it. He was relieved to be able to sit this time, but he would kneel every day, five times a day, if it was the only way to relieve even a fraction of her pain. He owed her that and more.

“You know, pushing just makes recovery take longer,” Negan said conversationally.

Judith rolled her eyes. “You pushed yourself plenty.”

The hard journey to find the NERDs flashed into his mind, making him breathless and a phantom cough itched in his chest. “That’s… different, Miss Grimes.”

“Don’t forget, I am Negan.”

Negan rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I don’t know what’s worse for Rick to overhear, you calling me Dad or hearing you say that.”

Judith's laugh was frozen in place as the door sprang open suddenly, and they both looked at the wide-eyed Daryl. His husband took in the scene, and his face twisted in fury and fear.

Negan saw the flash of a knife a split second before Daryl sprang forward.

Judith. Daryl had aimed the crossbow at her before. His flashbacks were never targeted like this, but it was the only thing that made even a smidge of sense. Negan was between them, his hands coming up to ward Daryl off, but he grabbed Negan’s shirt and pulled him forward. He felt Judith jostle, heard her crying out, and he tried to pull back to stop her from falling on her bad leg.

His head slammed against a wall, making it spin, and a sharp knife pressed against his throat. He could feel the blood trickle down onto his shirt, his heartbeat pounding against his chest, struggling to keep the panic at bay. Judith was still in the room; he had to protect her, he couldn't panic. He would never forget the pain of his throat being cut, but it didn’t matter with her in danger from a hallucinating Daryl.

He glanced back at her sitting up on the bed, eyes wide, darting between them.

“No,” Daryl snapped, his face close and filled with so much anger. “No. Not her.” His voice was low and filled with the promise of danger and cracking with an edge of pain. “I’ll play your fuckin’ games, I’ll be your fuckin’ whore, I’ll let you beat up Rick. But you do not hurt her! You do not touch her. You got it?!”

Negan stared at him, his words running through his head a few times, none of them making sense to him.

“What?” he asked, because everything started with that.

What’s wrong with you?

What are you talking about?

What’s happening?

What do you mean whore?

“You don’t hurt her!” Daryl shouted again. Spit landed on Negan’s face and Daryl leaned in, his eyes practically rabid, pushing the knife harder. Negan fought the panic down.

"I won't hurt her," Negan promised, the easiest promise he would ever make.

If Daryl wasn't going after Judith—

Daryl had pointed the crossbow at him, not Judith or RJ. He had hesitated when a walker could bite Negan.

"What do you think is happening here?" Negan asked, fighting back the bile in his throat. Swallowing would make the knife move.

“He wasn’t going to hurt me!” Judith shouted, pulling herself around the bed. Her prosthetic leg had fallen on the floor when Daryl grabbed him. She tried to grab it with her prosthetic arm for a moment, pushing it further out of reach, panic and desperation making her frantic.

Daryl scoffed, his eyes still narrowed on Negan. Besides the anger, panic was starting to push its way into his eyes.

"Get yer leg on and get outta here, Judith," Daryl ordered. "I won't let him come near ya, I promise."

"Don't hurt him!" Judith begged, sliding to the floor to reach her prosthetic. Daryl frowned, but didn't take his eyes off Negan.

Judith pulled her leg on without the silicone sleeve. Negan wanted to tell her to slow down and put it on correctly, but he would rather she get away from Daryl as fast as possible. They could deal with some blisters and cuts later.

“He's right, Judith, I think you should go if you can,” Negan spoke softly. He kept his eyes on Daryl and his hands outstretched at his sides, his mind working on how to get out of this without either Daryl or Judith getting hurt. Judith couldn't be in here.

"I'm not gonna leave you!"

"Go get someone. Rick, if you can."

Daryl's expression twisted further into fear. "No. You ain't gonna hurt any of 'em! Not anymore. Just me."

"I don't want to hurt anyone, Darlin'. How about you explain why you think I will?"

Judith finally got her leg on and slowly got to her feet, grunting with pain. Indecision made her freeze, but she caught Negan's eye. He wanted to nod, but he didn't dare move. Thankfully, she understood and limped from the room.

"No?" Negan prompted, listening to her slow footsteps on the stairs. "C'mon, Darlin', what's going on?" She reached the landing and Negan moved.

He grabbed Daryl's wrist to immobilize the knife, kicked out at Daryl's knee, and twisted his wrist until the knife clattered on the ground. Negan kicked his knee again, getting Daryl on the ground. He pinned Daryl's hands above his head and straddled him, using his body weight to keep Daryl contained.

Negan moved faster than he expected. Forcing his wrist into an unnatural angle, his hand let go before his bones broke, making him drop the knife. A second hard blow to his knee caused him to crumple, not strong enough after being confined for so long. Daryl found himself on the floor. Negan pinned him with his hands above his head, straddling him. For once, Daryl couldn't feel a hard erection poking at him as a memory flashed into his mind, so clear he was there for a moment.

“To take what I wanted?” Negan said, his voice a low growl, brown eyes locked on unblinking blue ones. “I could take what I want right now, and actually get off this time.” He rolled his hips into Daryl’s, where he could feel the steadily growing erection against his own traitorous dick, twitching at the friction and his voice that went straight through him. “And you want it, I know you do,” Negan continued, bending his head close enough that their noses brushed and Daryl could feel his warm breath against his face. His legs trembled with the effort of staying still and not pushing back into him. "You want me to bend you over that bar and fuck you."

Daryl spread his thighs without even thinking about it when skilled fingers fondled him through his pants, making him rock hard instantly. He hated the effect Negan had on him and hated that he didn’t want to stop it.

Daryl tried to struggle, get out of Negan's grip. He had to get the upper hand and stop Judith before she could tell the wrong person. But who was the right person?

Negan’s order to get Rick felt dangerous. 

Rick had gone to find him. Rick had reported to Negan about his confusion and called Negan brother. Rick had slunk to his chair like a lap dog and told Michonne not to fight. 

In the past, Rick had always taken charge, eventually. But he’d originally followed Hershel’s lead about the walkers. Even though he knew better. He tried to get the Governor to accept peace. Terminus and being on the road had hardened him, or so Daryl thought. 

How could Rick let this happen? Did he know? Did he allow it? Was it because Judith was Shane’s? Some kind of fucked up revenge on the wife that cheated and the best friend that she cheated with?

Everyone seemed under Negan’s influence. 

Carol would never bow to him. Carol wouldn’t break. Carol would know what to do.

"Daryl, stop!" Negan shouted, as he pressed down to pin Daryl and stop his struggling. "Stop whatever the fuck this is and talk to me."

It was a last-ditch attempt, pathetic and desperate, but Daryl lifted his head, attempting to kiss Negan. Rolling his hips up again, maybe he could distract him with sex but Negan pulled back, frowning at him.

"What the hell is going on? Why did you call yourself my whore?"

Daryl was sure there was a note of hurt in his voice. He struggled again, but Negan held fast.

"It's just me and you," Negan said, speaking softer. "Stop, Darlin'. You always talk to me. Please."

Daryl stopped struggling, dropping his head against the carpeted floor, breath coming in rapid bursts and a strange bubble of laughter came up his chest. Negan just looked more incredulous when Daryl did laugh, a sob escaping him at the same time.

"Do you think it's real?" He asked before he could consider his words, he had already fucked everything. They would have to kill him if he couldn’t fix it. "Is that why this makes no goddamn sense?"

"What?"

Daryl lifted his head to look him in the eyes. "How could I ever love you?"

Everything was suddenly freezing cold. Negan's heart just stopped beating. His breath froze in his lungs.

He was barely aware of letting go of Daryl and scrambling backward until his back hit the wall, knees in front of him as though to protect his belly. As though his heart hadn’t been ripped out and destroyed. Daryl sat up, rubbing his wrists, his eyes wide.

"Who are you?" Negan whispered brokenly. That wasn't his husband sitting opposite him.

Daryl scoffed. "Will that fix it? I'll go back if it'll fix it. I can do tha’, but ya can't hurt her."

"If what will?!"

"Negan."

Negan blinked. "What?"

"I am Negan. 'N you won't hurt Judith."

I am Negan.

"Is that enough?" Daryl asked him. "I'll take whatever punishment you give ta me. Long as it's me . Nobody else. Nobody else. You can't."

I am Negan.

Daryl looked around the room, his breathing coming faster, and then crawled on his knees to Negan, who couldn't move. Daryl reached out for him, fingers sliding between his thighs and then going for his belt. "Daryl—" Negan weakly tried to push his hands away. It wasn't right.

Daryl expertly unbuckled it and pulled it swiftly from his jeans.

I am Negan.

Daryl handed him the belt. Negan took it numbly, staring before he frowned at it.

Daryl took his shirt off and spun on his knees to turn his back to him. "Do it. Whatever ya gotta. Then it's done 'n we're back to before."

Negan stared at the belt and then at Daryl's scarred back.

I am Negan.

Daryl's hands shook, waiting for the familiar slicing pain, but Negan didn't move a muscle. When he looked back, ready to quickly turn away if the belt was coming at his face, Negan was still on the floor staring at the belt like he didn't know what it was.

"What else do I gotta do?" Daryl begged. Burning, belt, beating, rape. If Negan didn’t take it out on him then he’d turn to his family. Maybe he needed to beg for it. His pride was gone, vanished with his Lil Asskicker down the stairs. “Please, Negan. I–I need ya to. I need to make this right.”

Negan's eyes flicked to him again. "Where did you go?"

"What?" Why did that matter now?

"Where were you? Where did you go? Why won't you tell me?" Negan sat up further with every question until he stood. "Why— what is happening?"

Daryl swallowed, he had already fucked everything. If telling him the truth and starting again helped then he would. He could be broken over and over again and again. As long as Negan wouldn't touch Judith. 

Daryl could make Rick leave just in case. Or get a message to Michonne, the only one who openly glared at Negan still. Take the kids to the Hilltop with Maggie or further.

"You won't hurt Judith?" Daryl prompted.

"I won't hurt Judith!" Negan shouted, and Daryl couldn’t help the way his body flinched. The belt in Negan’s hand swaying with the force, and the warm sticky summer air on his skin and back too familiar. "Of course, I won't hurt Judith! Answer my fucking question, Daryl!"

"I don't know," he said finally, the words cracking.

"What?"

"I don't remember," Daryl admitted, his tongue too heavy. The small amount of dinner he ate threatened to come back up. "Last thin' I remember is escapin' the Sanctuary."

Rick burst into the room.

Both of Judith's legs screamed as she moved as fast as she could; it was barely more than a limp across the frustratingly empty town. Her crutches were in the infirmary after she’d threatened to throw them away, but she couldn’t take the time to get them. She didn't stop. She was too far. She was too slow. She didn’t know what to do.

She couldn't fight. She had to crawl to even get her leg on so she could get help.

How could she ever go outside the walls when she was so useless inside them?

Judith shoved the town hall doors open to so many eyes turned to look at her. She found Dad on the nearest table, eyebrows pulled together in concern. He jumped to his feet, rushing to her with a few other people and Dog, but she only focused on him.

"Judith? What happened?"

“Daryl…” she gasped, struggling to get the words out, she couldn't breathe. Daryl looked so angry, his face unrecognizable. Maybe Dad and Negan had been right to keep her and the other kids away without supervision. “Something wrong… Threatening… Negan. My bedroom.”

“Are you hurt?” Dad asked even as she could see him trying to decide between going to them and staying with her.

“I'm fine! Go!” She shoved at him and sat heavily in the chair Mom brought her. Dad ran with Carol close at his heels.

Rick ran as fast as he could. His guts twisting in fear, his stew bouncing around his stomach, but he didn't stop. He ran like he was running from walkers, or to walkers to save his family.

To save Daryl or Negan?

Negan was his brother, but if Daryl had a reason to hurt him—

“If I can’t kill myself, I want you to do it,” Negan said the words slowly but in one breath, making sure Rick understood but also making sure he could get them out. “Not today, not tomorrow. But then.”

Rick could hear Carol close behind him, and Dog ahead of him, as they finally reached his home. Judith had left the front door open. He sprinted in and took the staircase three at a time and skidded into Judith's bedroom where Daryl was standing shirtless opposite Negan who held his own belt in one hand.

Rick leaned against the doorway to catch his breath. Relief made him light headed for a moment, ready to yell at them for making some weird sex scene and scaring Judith to the point she could have hurt herself, before he saw how pale both men were. Daryl was trembling, and Negan was completely frozen.

"What's going on?" Rick asked, looking between them. Carol looked over his shoulder, taking in the scene.

"Brain damage," Negan whispered, eyes locked on Daryl. "Amnesia."

Chapter Text

They rode in a tense silence, Negan usually chatted about nothing just to fill it. Since waking up he just packed up his bedroll, got changed, and asked Rick if he was ready to leave.

Rick wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind so he followed Negan's lead.

They were following interstate 85, there were enough horse droppings that they were hopeful another community was nearby. One that could get them a lead. 

None of their trade partners had mentioned communities close to here, but that's what the world was now. A spattering of isolated communities as everyone tried to rebuild, but didn't try to do it together.

They chose to eat lunch in the saddle, chewing carefully before Negan broke the silence with a sigh, looking up at Rick as though it was an effort. "I'm sorry."

Rick stared at him confused. "Why are you sorry?"

"I was a dick last night."

"You were going through something."

Negan scoffed. "I go through that every day. I just— lost concentration last night."

"Every day?" Rick repeated.

Negan shrugged. "It's not like they only come out at night. I see things all the time. My ghosts. " Negan glanced at him. "I see you sometimes."

Rick frowned. "I'm not dead."

"You were. But usually you have two hands."

Moonshine lifted her head suddenly interested in something, effectively cutting off the conversation.

“What is it–” Negan was cut off again as she sped up suddenly, pulling on the reins to get her head and galloping past the old abandoned houses. Negan held on, turning back to check that Rick had followed. Chief was just as enthusiastic, although he actually listened when Rick pulled to slow him down. Rick looked past Negan right as Negan turned around and they saw what Moonshine must have heard.

Peach was trotting towards them with someone on her back, slumped over.

Moonshine skidded to a stop, neighing and huffing at Peach, heads rubbing together. It took a moment for the horses to stop moving long enough for Negan and Rick to see the person on her back.

Daryl lay unconscious and bleeding. Leads were wrapped into makeshift straps that tied him to the back of Peach. 

Rick’s heart pounded as he waited. Walkers didn’t pretend to be dead, and didn’t fall unconscious. The relief in Negan’s face as he touched the unresponsive Daryl was everything he needed to know. 

Daryl was breathing. Both of his brothers would live.

"Amnesia?" Rick repeated, "What are you talking about?"

Daryl stared at Negan, waiting for him to drop the act. 

He loved an audience. 

Daryl was still on his knees on the ground, having just attacked him. Any moment his face would twist into that grin that promised pain. He'd laugh and attack. Daryl stared at him, muscles trembling, and waited for something .

Negan just stared, frozen, and Daryl couldn't look away from his intense, dark eyes.

Dog was barking, but it was barely more than background noise, in time with his heartbeat.

Then Carol was in front of him, and the spell was broken. Someone told Dog to shh, and he finally stopped, silence filling the room. Daryl turned to Rick, who was at Negan's side, a hand on Negan's bicep. Like he would stop Negan from hitting Daryl.

“Explain,” Rick ordered, his voice pitched low and cracking. It wasn’t to Negan, his eyes were locked on Daryl. Waiting for him to tell him something Daryl had wanted to say from the beginning, before he realized he’d just burden him with the truth of the liability he now was. The risk to Rick’s and his family, the kids. Judith.

“I escaped the Sanctuary, then next thing I know, I was wakin’ up in the infirmary a few weeks ago with you ‘n him ,” Daryl answered. The words came easier now he'd spoken them once, now that Negan knew and the worst was already happening. Rick had to know he’d tried, tried so hard to protect them.

"You didn't say anything…" Rick said, shaking his head slightly and Daryl was sure there was a note of hurt in the statement. "Wait, the Sanctuary? That was—"

"He thinks I still have control of the town," Negan guessed, his voice flat. "Right, Daryl? You think you were forced to marry me, become like my wives back at the Sanctuary."

"You sayin' that ain't right?" Daryl spat back, pulling his shirt back on and standing. He needed to be ready to protect Rick and Carol. Negan didn't seem interested in beating him right now, but he was too close to them. Daryl knew how fast he could move, and hoped he would be faster.

"Yeah," Negan croaked. "'Cause this is real. I'm in love with you and you love me."

Daryl scoffed. It was all a manipulation, it had to be. But Rick and Carol were looking at him in confused horror, not Negan.

"What was this, then, huh?" Daryl gestured behind him, to the bed with Judith's skirt still on the floor next to it. "Rick, he was touchin' Judith!"

Rick cocked his head at Negan, non-swollen eye gleaming. Daryl expected him to attack, he might have taken a beating the day before, but this was Judith .

"Massaging her leg," Negan defended quickly. "She said it helps her. Rick, I would never—"

"I know." Rick cleared his throat. "Carol, can you take Daryl to the infirmary? Talk to Izzy."

"Of course." Carol put her hand lightly on his back. Daryl hesitated, pushing back. Rick might be trying to protect him, finally , but Daryl was the only one who could do it. He needed to stay where he could keep an eye on Negan, stop him from doing anything. Redirect his anger to him now that the game was over. 

Carol urged him out. Her strong firm fingers squeezed his arm, silently telling him to trust her.

She led him around Negan, who pressed against the wall to stay out of their way. When they got outside, it was like it was noon, bright and airy, instead of almost sunset. The house behind them a dark pit.

Every minute since Daryl woke up replayed in Negan's mind.

In the infirmary, he didn't kiss back.

Every confused frown. Every flinch.

The first time Negan massaged his feet.

The way he looked around the bathroom.

Looking at the pictures.

Him kneeling in front of him after standing in the kitchen watching their food get cold.

The look when Negan wanted him on his back.

The look on his face last time they fucked in their bedroom.

Negan fucked him.

He had sex with Daryl. Daryl who doesn't know him, and still thinks they're enemies. Daryl who thought he was going to rape Judith. Punishment.

Negan's belt burned in his hands. He dropped it with a loud clatter.

Since the Sanctuary, Daryl was covered in more scars. Did he think Negan gave them to him?

The desperate attempted sex twice since the walker.

Did Daryl think that was a punishment too?

His stomach revolted. Negan turned and ran to the bathroom, dropping to his knees and emptying his stomach as he realized.

He raped Daryl.

Multiple times.

He fell backwards from the toilet and realized he was surrounded.

"You thought he wanted you?" Sherry scoffed, her acerbic tone cutting him. "Did you think I wanted you too?"

"I never lied to the Alexandrian's. I didn't have a choice. Not really." Frankie's sad voice was worse. Defeated. "You raped me."

"And me." Tanya was next to her, arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

"All of us," Amber spoke up where she sat on the edge of the tub.

"How could any of us love you?" Lucille cooed while petting his hair.

Rick waited for the front door to close and then went to get a glass of water, ordering the distressed panting Dog to his bed. He stood outside the bathroom. His mind spun and he absentmindedly swirled the cup as though they were his thoughts.

Sure Daryl was confused at first, but then he seemed to be getting better. Rick had thought he was okay. He’d honestly thought Negan was just anxious and seeing things that weren't there, listening to the ghosts they hadn’t had much time to really talk about.

But Negan was right. Brain damage.  

Daryl should have come to him. 

What had happened that made him think Rick wouldn't protect him? Where had he failed his brother? Why would Daryl pretend and live—

Sleep with Negan?

But he had offered himself up with the Claimers, hadn't he? He had offered everything to keep them safe. If Daryl thought he was keeping them safe now—

Rick didn't want to think about it, stomach twisting. They only had one bathroom.

The sounds of retching stopped.

Rick pushed the door open to find Negan on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. The collar of his shirt had a slowly growing red stain, blood seeping from a cut on his neck. Vomit was wet on his chin and in his short beard. His eyes were unfocused and darting around the empty room. He didn’t flinch when Rick came in, not acknowledging him at all.

He wasn't speaking, but Rick knew he was seeing and hearing things that weren't there.

Rick got a towel and wet it slightly, before crouching in front of Negan. "It's just me and you in the room," Rick said quietly.

He took his prosthetic off. 

With what just happened, Negan needed to feel safe. The cut on his throat hid his older scar with blood, but Rick could almost smell the grass of the field under the blood and vomit. Could see Negan’s teary eyes and gaping mouth as his blood poured from a cut Rick made. Their blood both mixing and staining the shard of glass in Rick’s hand. 

Gently, he wiped at the blood first, inspecting the cut; it wasn't deep enough to need stitches, at least.

"You should keep your promise," Negan croaked.

"Which one?" Rick responded. Talking was better, but his eyes were still unfocused.

"Not today, not tomorrow." Negan's eyes finally flickered to him, moving down to his stump and then back to his face. "It's today."

"I'm not going to kill you, Negan." Rick wet another section of the towel and gently cleaned the vomit off his chin and beard.

"I raped him."

Rick clenched his jaw, Negan putting words to it just made it so much worse. "You didn't know," Rick assured him.

"I knew there was something wrong. I should have—"

They all should have realized. Negan was the only one who even tried to pay attention to the warning signs. The only one who noticed that something was wrong. "You had your husband telling you he was okay. You're not to blame."

"Yeah. I am," Negan whispered.

Rick squeezed his arm. He didn’t know how to help him right now, but Negan needed to know he was there. That he wasn't alone.

"Don't listen to him," the Croat snapped. "He will kill you for the lies about the little one, Buraz. He's just waiting for the right moment."

"Damn right," snapped Rick, standing by the doorway behind the one touching him. "He fucking deserves it, the sick fuck."

Another version of himself was in the background, smirking at him with predatory intent. "He gonna come to you and tell you he liked it this time?" A memory from years ago made Negan breathless. "He's already limping again, maybe you can make some new kinda lube. Or are you gonna go to the armory and eat the bullet this time?"

The two-handed Rick snorted. "If he robs me of my vengeance, then he really is the biggest asshole. It should be me, or Daryl. Anyone else means we'll never have closure."

Laura glared, shoving through them. "He doesn't get to die, Judith needs to think she saved him. He has to wait at least a little bit."

"Judith," Negan asked, panic squeezing his chest. Both Ricks being here meant she made it to the town hall. She had been so scared and in pain, he needed to check on her.

"She's okay. Michonne and RJ are with her."

"Good. I uh, I should go h–" Negan's voice cracked, throat closing off around the word. He cleared it as his eyes burned and started to blur. "Uh— back to the house."

"Need me to come with you? You shouldn't be alone right now."

Negan shook his head, he was never alone. "Just tell him the truth, please?" 

Negan got to his feet, stumbling. Rick caught him with a hand on his waist, but Negan pushed him away and kept going. 

Daryl needed them, and he needed to get out of the way.

As soon as they were outside, Daryl dragged Carol to the side of the townhouses. He needed assured privacy, despite the way the town was empty during dinner. He knew it would fill up soon. The small hiding spot felt familiar, a place he would stand and smoke back before, hiding from the eyes of the judgmental and sheltered Alexandrians.

He was itching for a smoke, even just to stop his hands from shaking. He knew where there were some cigarettes, but he couldn't go back there yet. Any minute, Negan would come out and drag him back. Maybe he would make Rick do it, need me to tie him to the bed for you?

"What is it?" Daryl asked, getting close to Carol, crowding her into the shadows of the house. "Some kinda play? Manipulation? He knows now, he can use it."

She would tell him the truth, give him something to work off, and make this better. Maybe not make it all go away, but it was something that could keep them all from losing more limbs.

"Negan? No, Daryl." Carol stood straighter. He gave way and took a step back, giving her the space she wanted. "You two are married. Happily married."

Daryl's heart sank.

Carol glanced around and sighed before pulling him into another house nearby. It was smaller than the townhouses, similar to the one he'd been living with Negan, but it felt empty and cold. The only decoration he could see was a drawn picture of a tiger on the fridge. Nothing like the walls of kids' drawings, or other homey touches he was used to seeing.

"No one's come in this house," Daryl said, he had memorized where everyone lived. There were a few empty houses, ready to bring people in or for other communities to stay the night, but nobody came near this one.

"It's mine. It's where I lived with Ezekiel."

Ezekiel . Daryl tried to place the name, he had heard it said a few times by different people. It was the most recent one on the wall, but it hadn’t sparked any memories. "Where'd you go?" he asked her again quietly.

"Ezekiel died. Thyroid cancer. I needed to get away for a while, you know what it's like, needing to be outside the walls." Daryl hummed, the urge to get out was slicing at him. "But, if I had heard even a hint of any of this I would have been back in a heartbeat."

Hot tears sprung to his eyes. She was back. He had his Carol back. His best friend, the safest person he knew. The best and bravest person he knew.

Carol led him to the couch and sat close, knees entangling. If Negan saw them— "Talk to me, Daryl. What's been happening?"

The last day, the last few weeks, all seemed to fall on him at once. He felt crushed beneath the weight of a house, tied up and unable to move as he was whipped over and over again.

He shook his head in answer and to push away the memories he didn't understand. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause there's so much 'n it ain't over. I don't—" How could he explain how foreign everything felt? How nothing made sense because so much had changed. But there were things that were still the same, just enough to keep him anchored in place.

"Okay. Well, we fought Negan after you escaped. We won and he was in the cell beneath Rick's house for nearly eight years," Carol explained quietly, her tone soothing and no-nonsense. "Then he escaped. Other things happened, a war with someone else. It's not important. Then you went away, looking for Rick, but again that's another story. You were grabbed and hurt bad. Negan found you, by accident, and saved your life. While you were recovering, you got to know each other. You fell in love. You came home and have been living together since. You got married last year. That's what's happened, Daryl. I will tell you everything, but that is the basics of Negan."

"And Rick? They fought yesterday till he was unconscious. Judith's limbs? Rosita's bruise? Takin' Laz?" Daryl could feel his breath coming in faster bursts, struggling to get a deeper breath in. "The— the things he—did—" How much he wanted to fuck him? Use him? The painful things he’d twisted Daryl into liking, wanting. He didn’t know if he could tell Carol about that. About how much of himself he’d lost, without even feeling the pieces shatter. Or knowing which blow did it.

He didn't need to finish his sentence. Grief filled Carol's face and she pulled him against her. He let out a shuddering breath, which cracked and turned into a sob. Carol held him tighter, shifting them so he was leaning into her completely.

He never let himself cry in front of people, but this was Carol. And he was so goddamn tired. He hadn’t stopped in a year. The fight with the Governor, running with Beth, walking to DC, fighting for Alexandria, fighting Negan. Trying to stay sane and navigate this new apocalypse he woke up in.

He clutched at her. She was so strong. He had missed her so much he couldn't breathe.

Carol rubbed his back, whispering soft words of comfort to him.

"Thought you were dead," he murmured when he felt he could speak without crying again. "Thought he killed you."

"Nah. Me and you are gonna be the last ones standing, you know that." Carol pressed a kiss to the side of his head and gently pushed him away to study his face. She wiped at his cheeks and under his eyes with her thumbs.

He smiled thinly and took the Cherokee Rose from his pocket. It was crumpled but still okay. “Found this earlier. Felt important.”

Carol took it from him. Time had put new callouses on her fingers, but her hand was still soft in his and she held it to her chest. “I hope it helped you.” She lowered it to her lap and took his hand again. "I am here for you, but I need you to know. Negan never would have hurt you if he knew. Never ."

Had his constant fear been for nothing? Offering himself up had been for nothing? 

Somehow, that was worse.

"We should go to the infirmary," he murmured, standing up, his cheeks burning for his weakness, even knowing Carol would never use it against him. Carol nodded and followed him. Her hand never left his arm or his back, her touch keeping him anchored.

The streets were busier now, people making their way home or swapping shifts on the walls. The 'Whisperers' were being shown where they could sleep for the night by Jerry, who frowned at Daryl and Carol, but didn't approach them.

"Daryl," Rosita called out, making them stop, as she jogged to his side. She handed him his crossbow. He had left in the town hall, and he wrapped his hand around the metal and breathed easier. "What's going on? Negan okay?" Rosita asked, looking between them both.

Daryl couldn't stop his flinch at the name, Rosita caught it with a frown. Was she concerned, for Negan or for what he'll do? Daryl wanted to believe Carol, but how could he? Negan was a master manipulator, he knew how to make people follow him.

I'm in love with you , Negan's voice echoed in his mind. His stomach twisted.

"Rick's with him," Carol answered Rosita. "It's… a long story."

"No, I just saw Rick." Rosita gestured behind her. "He was looking for you by the infirmary."

Carol cursed under her breath. "Can you go to Negan?"

"No—" Daryl started, but Carol squeezed his arm lightly.

"She's safe with him," Carol assured him gently.

Rosita's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell wouldn't I be safe with him?"

"We'll explain later," Carol said, glancing around the busy streets.

"But is he okay?" She prompted. Carol shook her head.

Rosita cursed under her breath and started jogging towards the houses. Towards Negan. Daryl watched her go, wanting to follow, but Carol kept leading him to the infirmary. He trusted Carol. But did she know?

"There you are," Rick said when they came in, he was sitting beside Judith and Michonne. Her leg stump was visible. Chaffed red skin with dried blood caught his attention. 

Another sharp stab of guilt hit him. She had tried to run because of him.

"Judith— I'm sorry." He stumbled to her bed, stopping beside Michonne to take Judith's hand, the human one. "Didn't mean to scare ya."

Judith narrowed her eyes. “What happened, Daryl? Why did you think Negan was going to hurt me?"

Rick touched her arm and glanced around the infirmary. Cora had been discharged, leaving just the Grimes family, Daryl, and Carol in the room with Izzy.

"Iz, do you know much about amnesia?" Rick asked pointedly.

"Amnesia? Uh," she gently ran a cloth over Judith's leg, cleaning it, "there are two forms. Anterograde amnesia, where there’s an inability to form new memories, think that old Adam Sandler movie, Fifty First Dates. And retrograde amnesia, where the ability to recall past memories is affected. The severity of it depends. Why?"

Rick nodded behind her, and Izzy glanced back at Daryl before her eyes widened, briefly losing the professionalism Daryl had seen while healing. "Oh– shit.” She shook her head, regaining composure. “Is it more than the few days leading up to the surgery?"

“Years,” Rick told her.

Michonne gasped. RJ and Judith glanced at each other, frowning.

"Uh, go ahead and sit," Izzy gestured at the bed beside Judith's. "Mind if I ask you a few questions while I finish up here?"

Daryl shrugged and sat on the bed. Carol stayed close to him, still standing. Her being ready helped calm him. Izzy had treated his wounds well, but her and Negan’s friendship made her dangerous. How many times had she patched him up?

"When did you realize you were missing additional time?"

"Knew somethin’ was wrong as soon as Rick called Negan in. But when he took me out of the infirmary ‘n’ Alexandria was different. I knew it was a long time."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Escaping the Sanctuary." He looked to Rick for help. "Guessin' fourteen years ago."

Rick nodded. "Yeah. From when Negan still ruled the Sanctuary. Just before we fought with him."

Judith gasped this time, understanding coming over her face.

"Do you remember the word I told you when you first woke up?" Izzy pushed away the bowl of water and picked up a jar of what looked like honey to spread lightly on each small blister and scrape. She was acting nonchalant but Daryl watched her carefully, worried about Judith in her care.

It took him a moment to recall it. "Banana."

"Okay. Good, you are making new memories." Daryl nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Daryl shrugged again, everyone was staring at him now. "Negan was there. Didn't think I could. Didn't even know how long it'd been till I figured out who you were, Jude."

"Then why'd you point the crossbow at me and RJ?"

Daryl frowned. "What? Was pointin' it at him."

"Oh." She gasped. "Negan knows now? Dad—"

"He wanted to be alone."

She sat up, wrenching her leg away from Izzy. "He can't be alone." She started to turn in the bed, panic coming over her features. “Dad, I need him.” A strange look came into Rick’s eyes, remembering something Daryl couldn’t.

"Rosita's gone to him," Carol assured her. "We won't leave him alone."

Daryl looked around at the concerned faces surrounding him. Everyone was worried for Negan. How could this have happened? Had he manipulated them all so far they thought they cared? Did they not understand what he was really doing? Had they forgotten about Glenn and Abraham and Denise?

The strange relationship he had with Judith. It made Daryl uncomfortable. How did nobody else see that?

"Have you all forgotten what he did?!” He snapped. “What he's like—" He jumped off the bed; he couldn't sit still. "Nah. I can't— I can't be here. Fuck this." He started towards the door but froze. 

He couldn't leave either.

Could he?

Negan was going to hurt them because of what he'd done.

Was he?

He stood by the open door, indecision ripping him in half. But Carol was there again. His best friend.

"Go," she whispered, handing him a few knives from her belt and the flower. "I'll keep an eye on things here. I promise."

He gave her a sharp nod and pushed the doors open. He had his crossbow, some knives, and the clothes on his back. That was all he needed out there.

Chapter Text

“Did you hear about what happened?” Mark commented to Chang.

Chang looked down at him, still keeping an eye on the grounds around town even though walkers weren’t really a problem since the Whisperer Alliance. “No, I’ve been stuck here since dinner.”

“You know how Negan and Daryl have seemed off lately?”

Chang rolled his eyes. Everyone had noticed that. He’d heard a thousand rumors over the last few weeks. “If you don’t have anything new–”

“Oh yes I do,” Mark sang, sounding smug, and Chang was actually hopeful there would be something to this.

“Daryl left right before dinner finished. Just walked out the gates without supplies or a horse.”

“I knew that, Molly told me when I took her spot.” Hope was dying that this would be more than another speculation.

“Did you hear what the Whisperer told Daryl at dinner, right before he left?”

Now that was new. “One of the Whisperers talked to Daryl?”

“Yep, said Lydia was glad he returned ,” Mark said it like it was some kind of revelation, adding emphasis to it.

“What does that fucking mean Mark?” Chang snapped.

“It means that I was fucking right!” Mark crowed. “Daryl wasn’t beyond the walls hunting all the time. That Whisperer child with the blue eyes and constant scowl is his! He was going to Hilltop to visit Lydia and their love child. Then he finally decided he couldn’t take it anymore and decided to run off and abandon them, so Negan would never find out. He didn’t expect Negan to find him! Or bring him back! I don’t know for sure that Negan knows. But the way he’s been watching Daryl he suspects. They waited until Negan was gone before they went over. All the Whisperers are in on it.”

Chang laughed. “Dude, Lydia was like a teenager when they met. Pretty sure she and Elijah have been making goo-goo eyes at each other. No way she’s going after Daryl. Now, that horse chick from Oceanside?"

Daryl didn't take a horse, he walked out the gates and kept going with no direction in mind.

He just needed to get out. Even as the constant ball of guilt made him want to turn back, to protect them.

Did he need to?

The sun was setting and maybe being out here was a terrible idea, but he couldn't go back behind those walls and watch them lock him in again. Trap him in with Negan.

If what Carol was saying was true and Daryl hadn't told him—

He thought about the way his body reacted. It wasn't just the way Negan turned him on, that was human to react to being touched like that. But the way Negan's smell and touch instantly relaxed him. They comforted him in a way he didn’t know was possible. Even when he was panicking because of Negan, having his leather and library scent around him was nice .

The way he massaged Daryl's feet. Taking away the aches and pains that tormented him now.

Was Negan just massaging Judith? The innocent and kind gesture turned dirty and disgusting by Daryl’s panicked mind?

He walked through the night, surprised at the lack of walkers around them. Even earlier while hunting he had only seen the one.

The one walker that changed all of this. That sent him into such a panic he revealed the secret he had worked so hard to keep quiet. Carol and Maggie's arrival just made it worse, he had worked so hard to protect everyone, having two more people was overwhelming.

Daryl killed a raccoon because it wandered right in his path, more habit than hunger, and finally came to a stop. When he realized where he was, Daryl collapsed to his knees on the stony ground laughing to himself.

Why the fuck did he come here?

He could still see Negan exiting the RV. Could feel the hot blood running down his shoulder. He could hear Maggie's cries as Glenn died.

His fault.

Daryl stood slowly. It looked like people had used the clearing for some kind of target practice. Cans littered the space and he used them to set up noise traps, settling in the clearing for the rest of the night. He took out one of the knives Carol gave him to skin and gut the raccoon, setting a small fire to cook it. He hadn't eaten much dinner and after walking so far his stomach was rumbling.

As he rotated it over the fire his mind spun. He couldn't have married Negan. He couldn't have let any of this happen. 

While recovering , Carol had said giving him the impression they were alone when it happened. When he ‘fell in love’ with Negan.

Recovering from what? Negan mapped his scars, admiring the lines he’d carved in Daryl’s skin to break him. Daryl shivered at the feeling of ghost hands on his skin. He’d find a creek in the morning and scrub himself raw again.

Did he tell them the scars were from someone else?

He wondered if his family thought it was real, if he had told them it was real. 

Was it a secret between him and Negan, to keep them safe?

But the confusion on Negan's face floated in his mind’s eye.

Was he just grasping at straws again? Making up stories when Negan had been nothing but kind to him since he woke up?

Negan stumbled into his house, closed the door behind him, and crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself. Full body sobs wracked through him.

He knew. He couldn't have guessed this. But he knew.

Daryl hated him.

This whole time, Daryl had hated him. Daryl had been trying to keep Negan happy so he didn't hurt anyone. Offering himself up as his whore . The one person in town who always trusted him, no matter what, hated him, and Negan had only given him more reasons to hate him. Raping him. Proving Frankie right.

He raped his husband.

As soon as the town found out, the trust and friendship he had worked hard to earn would be gone. This was it.

"So, you gonna eat a bullet or what?"

Negan glared up at his younger self. He looked at the cabinet. 

Maybe he should. 

Even if Daryl remembered, he could never forgive this.

Negan got to his feet and stumbled to the bag they’d taken hunting. He’d asked one of the kids to drop it off when he could tell Daryl didn't want to leave Carol's side long enough to drop it off himself. After their strange interaction beyond the walls, Negan didn't want to leave Daryl.

Negan opened the bag. The butt plug was on top.

The plug Daryl had left in despite the discomfort, all night and day. Because he thought he wasn't allowed to take it out. He brought lube with him. Not because he wanted sex, but just incase Negan was going to fuck him without it if they didn’t have it.

Negan closed the bag and stumbled backwards, turning to the weapons cabinet. There was a pistol in there, and some bullets in the drawer at the bottom. He almost dropped the bullets his hands were shaking so bad as he loaded the pistol.

"You aren't allowed to do this, Negan. No matter what you think I feel, or anyone else feels. You live. You pick up the pieces and you stay. You promised to love me for the rest of our lives, don't cut that short."

Daryl had ordered him that, begged him, after he left to find the NERDS for Judith.

Negan roared his pain and hurt before throwing the gun at the cabinet. When it just bounced off and fell to the floor he grabbed his crowbar from where it rested by the bag and swung. 

He swung over and over again at the cabinet, screaming as it broke into a million pieces of wood and nails. Weapons clattered on the ground, but Negan kept swinging. When there was nothing left to swing at he dropped the crowbar, gasping for breath. 

Negan stared at the curtains in the living room, the ones they argued over. He grabbed them and pulled them down, the rail clattering to the floor.

He picked up the rail and slammed it into the coffee table, putting dents in it, the thin metal bending before the table broke. Negan kicked at the table over and over again until his left leg gave out and he dropped to the floor.

He would cry, but he had no energy left.

A hand touched his shoulder. Negan jumped. He was almost surprised when he was able to grab the wrist, pretty sure it was a hallucination. But instinct had him using it to spin the intruder until he had them pinned to the ground, a piece of broken wood pressed against their neck. 

Then he recognized Rosita.

He jumped back, dropping the wood and stumbled, tripping over broken objects. "Sorry, sorry—"

"Hey, it's okay. I should know not to sneak up on anyone. Instincts are hard to break."

"What are you doing here?" Negan asked her.

“What is going on? Are you okay?” Rosita’s eyes flickered all over him then the floor. “Are you hurt?”

Negan was in agony. His whole existence shattered and cutting at him. His world was on fire and he wanted to burn their house down, leave nothing behind so that nothing could hurt him like this again. But that hadn’t worked so well the last time.

Rosita wasn’t asking about his mental state, her eyes felt checking him for wounds. She thought he was bit and he almost wished it was true. That Daryl had let the walker get him before he realized what he’d done. “I’m not bit. I’m fine.”

"Bullshit. I bumped into Daryl and Ca—" he flinched at Daryl's name and Rosita cut herself off, frowning. "Okay, he did that too. What's going on between you two?" She crouched in front of him. "This is more than a fight between a couple. What's happened?"

He shook his head. Rosita was one of the first people in the town to give him a chance. The first person from the line-up who talked to him like a person. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't see the hatred in her eyes, a pale reflection of Daryl's. 

As much as he deserved it, he needed just a little more time before everyone knew. Although now that he couldn’t kill himself, he would have to see it eventually. You sta y.

"Okay." She looked around the living room, assessing the damage. Negan's eyes trailed past the destruction to where the ghosts waited, glaring at him. "You can't stay here tonight. You can stay with us."

Negan wanted to clutch onto her offer and never come back into this house again, but he deserved the pain it caused. He shook his head. "You've got the kids and Cora—"

"Cora decided to go back to the Kids House to be with them. I'm just pumping and storing the milk for her. Laz is still with me and Gabriel. We can put a mattress in the nursery for you."

From the mattresses they had to collect again after he burned them all out of spite and revenge.

"I can stay here." He had to stay here. Surrounded by the destruction he caused and the ghosts of everyone he failed.

"No. This is an order from the council, you're staying with me, Negan. Come on." Rosita took his arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Negan told me there was something wrong– I told the council, but I really thought it was just Daryl pullin’ away, y’know," Rick admitted, his voice cracking. "When Daryl saw my face in the dinner line, he apologized while Negan was distracted."

Rosita cursed under her breath. She had made her way over not long after Rick and Michonne got home with Judith. She told Rick she left Negan sleeping in Laz's room, then came to question Daryl about what had happened. Rick, Carol, Maggie, and Michonne were already there.

"The night of the storm," Rosita explained, her voice strained, "Negan accidentally hit me with a plank of wood. The way Daryl said sorry… it was weird, but I didn't think anything of it at the time."

"He's been so jumpy," Michonne agreed. "Barely talkin' to the rest of us."

"He does that," Maggie tried, "he pulls away to lick his wounds. You can't blame yourselves for not seein'." She shook her head. "He gave me this weird look when we saw 'em. After… at the Hilltop after Glenn, Daryl avoided me. The look he gave me outside the walls was like that, but I thought it was 'cause I nearly caught Negan and him… doin' something. The guilt."

"They've slept together," Rick said, glancing at the door to make sure none of the kids were listening in. Judith was exhausted when they got home. She even asked Rick to carry her up the stairs, something she had avoided doing even in the wheelchair. Dog had gone to her bedroom, guarding her.

"Oh Jesus," Maggie cursed, covering her mouth.

"Why would Daryl… do that?" Rosita asked, shaking her head.

"I think… he thought he didn't have a choice," Carol said, keeping her voice carefully neutral, but Rick could hear the pain underneath. "He thinks he took a deal from Negan to join his… wives. He had to play the role to keep the rest of us safe."

The weight of what Daryl had been going through for weeks settled on all of them.

“It wasn’t– Negan didn’t know,” Rick added, not wanting them to blame him. “He knew something was wrong, but he never would have slept with him if he had known what.”

It was a relief when nobody argued with him; he studied each face, searching for the blame and anger, but saw none.

The next morning, Daryl pulled the chain and ring from where it rested against his chest and dropped it in the same spot he had knelt months years ago. He then made his way to the Sanctuary, vague memory and context clues leading the way.

He stared up at the old factory building. Standing in the courtyard where he had been forced to work the walker moat. Half the windows were smashed and broken. The caved-in main entrance to the worker floor sent an unanchored stab of guilt through him. 

Something he’d forgotten. Something he’d done? Why guilt?

Everything inside smelled of damp, decay, and death. He looked up at the walkway. In his mind’s eye Negan walked across it with Lucille held over his shoulder. Carl at his side. It just happened a few weeks ago, but more than a decade had passed.

Daryl approached the cold furnace where he could hear Mark's screams. How could Mark joke with him? Was it all forced? 

The sight of teeth inside, bits of bone, served as a visceral reminder of what Negan was capable of.

Daryl went to his cell, surprised to find the door had been taken off. He wondered if it was the right room, but standing there he had a vague memory of taking it off himself. He stepped back and walked in no direction, his legs taking him across the factory to another room on the other side of the building. An empty bedroom, but he could see Negan sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair mussed and a nervous smile in place of his usual smirk.

“What did Carol want?” Negan asked with an edge to his voice that Daryl couldn’t read.

“To make sure I do trust ya ‘n I ain’t under duress or some shit.”

“I’m hoping you told her the truth.”

Daryl looked at Negan then. The moonlight shone on his face, revealing how pale he was, the tenseness around his eyes and mouth. “You’d have a hole in your head if I told her anythin’ else.”

Negan didn't think he'd sleep, but when Rosita made him lay down on the mattress, he passed out before hitting the pillow.

He woke up to the sun beaming through the open curtains and winced away from it like a hangover. He wished he had a few seconds of confusion. A breath where he didn’t remember where he was or why he was there. But the second his eyes opened, he knew.

Negan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling covered with glow-in-the-dark stars, ready for Lazaro to come into this room in a few months. He could hear movement on the floor below and wanted nothing more than to sneak out and go back to the house. He didn't want to be in there, but he deserved it.

He slowly sat up, rubbing at his face, before he walked downstairs to find the Espinosa and Porter household going through the motions. Eugene was making Coco's breakfast, Rosita was stuck on a chair, pumping, while Gabriel played with Laz.

They all paused and looked at him. They knew. Negan could see it in everyone's eyes.

But Coco was the light at the end of the tunnel with her excited, "Uncle Negan!" She ignored Eugene's attempts at keeping her in her chair and rushed at Negan.

"Hey, kiddo." He hugged her, waiting for one of the adults to tell him to get away from her. He touched Judith, he shouldn't be allowed near their daughter.

Rosita just smiled and rolled her eyes at them. "Coco, eat your breakfast."

Coco grabbed his left hand and pulled him to sit beside her, able to grasp all of his fingers because of the missing one. "I didn't know you were here," she told him.

"Just overnight," Negan told her. Eugene slid a bowl of porridge in front of him. "I'm not hungry, thank you."

"Nope, you've gotta eat," Rosita ordered.

Negan looked at her, but she arched an eyebrow. Somehow with her shirt around her neck, two tubes attached to her chest, stuck on a chair with a whirling of the breast pump beside her, she was still scary as fuck.

Negan took a mouthful of the bland porridge. "Here, you can have some of my strawberries." Coco pushed a small plate of them to him. "And some honey."

"Thanks." Negan managed to eat a few more bites while Coco chatted at him, before his stomach turned and he pushed it away.

"Give it here, no point in wasting it." Negan carried it to Rosita and as she took the bowl, she took his hand with hers. Trapping him. "We trust you and we love you, okay?"

His knees nearly buckled, hot tears sprung to his eyes but all he could do was nod. How long would they trust and love him for?

The day passed slowly. Negan knew he should be outside helping set up for Judith's party, but he didn't want to make Daryl uncomfortable. He waited until the party was underway and most of the town was outside by the pond. The loud chatter of the whole town felt surreal as they trusted the Whisperers to guard them. Certain Daryl must be there and not in the house, Negan went back to get her wrapped gift. He didn't look at the destruction in the living room as he went upstairs and collected it from the spare room, relieved he had stored it there. That he didn't have to go into his bedroom.

He left the walls slowly, looking around as he made his way to the pond and everyone enjoying the day off their normal duties for Judith's Sweet Sixteen. Cora was with Warren, both of them cooing over baby Lu. Cora had opted to ignore Rick's advice and still named her Lucille, but left Lu as a nickname people could use.

He could see Judith at the edge of the pond. She was turned so her flesh leg was in the water, but her stump with the prosthetic was stretched out in front of her towards Gracie. Her best friend had both legs in the water and was smiling as they chatted.

Rick was hovering near Judith trying to look subtle; and failing, given the side eye Judith kept giving him. Michonne saw it too and was trying to convince him of something Negan couldn't hear.

Dog sat near the food table, trying his luck. Brooke glanced around before giving him a piece of the pork roast.

Negan longed to be in the middle of the party, but he couldn't see Daryl and didn't want to stop him from being here. Instead, he focused on finding the table full of presents. He put his gift carefully to the side and started to walk away when someone shouted his name.

Negan jumped and scanned the crowd, but he couldn't see Daryl still. Judith was waving at him, gesturing for him to come to her.

She said something to Gracie, her friend got up and helped Judith to her feet. Gracie sat back down to let them talk as Negan approached, his eyes still darting around looking for Daryl. "Happy birthday, Judith," he murmured, hesitating as she extended both arms for a hug. He glanced at Rick, who arched an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you?" Judith lowered her arms and guilt tore at him seeing the dejected look flash across her face.

"I uh, put your gift on the table. But I should go—"

"He's not here," Rick said, coming to their side. "He's gone."

Negan jolted. "Gone where?"

"Out, away for a bit. He needed some time alone."

"Is he—" Did he have the right to ask if he was okay?

"I don't know," Rick answered anyway.

"Stay?" Judith asked. Her voice was so small, reminding him of the day in the infirmary, reaching out with a bandaged stump, begging him to stay.

"I don't know—"

"Stay, brother," Rick said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Brother. He hadn't lost that right. Yet.

"Sit with me? Izzy said I can't get in the pond though, cause I got blisters and stuff."

"I'm sorry, I never should have told you to go like that." Negan helped her to the ground before taking his boots off and rolling up his jeans to stick his feet in the water.

"It's okay. I was more scared for you… he was so angry."

Negan could only hum in reply, he would never forget Daryl's face twisted in fury. But how could he explain to Judith that he deserved it? That Daryl was just trying to protect her after everything Negan had done to him.

Raped him.

"But uh, my legs still hurt. Could you massage them again, later?"

Negan's stomach twisted, and he stared at the water rippling from her slowly moving her whole leg around. "I don't think that's a good idea, Jude."

"Why not?"

He forced himself to look her in the eye. "Daryl— he got the wrong idea—"

"I know what he thought. Dad explained it to me. Which, gross, by the way." Negan chuckled. "But that's not right, right?" Disgust wrinkled her nose.

"Of course not!"

"Good. Then you promised me every day, five times a day, if I need that. My legs later,” he knew that was only because she didn’t want to take off the prosthetic with everyone around them, “but my arm now?"

Negan nodded slowly and glanced at Rick again who nodded at him, telling him it was okay. "Okay." 

He would check with Rick every time. Maybe not massage them in her bedroom. It hadn't occurred to him how strange that was because he never looked at her like that, she was a child.

Negan would never blame Daryl, but he hated that he had tainted his friendship with Judith.

Gracie and Judith continued to talk, discussing the new foal’s progress and various gossip around town. Negan found himself engaging, even after he promised himself to stay distant.

Once he finished her massage, he stood up to go, but RJ called him to him from the water. 

None of the adults were in the water, and despite the kids all chanting for him, Negan couldn’t do it. 

How many times had he played or roughhoused with the kids, and the only reason no one said anything was because most of them didn’t have parents to object? As a gym teacher, he’d always played with the kids, but again, no other adult was usually around. How many times had he crossed a line and there was no one around to stop him? Or who wasn’t afraid to stop him?

He turned away from the water. It would be better if he left, let the kids forget about him and focus back on playing with each other. He made it halfway through the crowd before someone grabbed his arm. Maggie raised her eyebrows when he turned with a flinch, half expecting it to be Daryl.

“We need someone to hold the piñata string.”

Negan blinked at her. “What?”

“You’re the tallest next to Jerry, but he’s busy.” Negan glanced across the pond to where Jerry was playing with some of the younger kids, throwing them in the water to Warren and RJ. “Carol found an old party store and they still had a piñata. We thought most of the candy would be nasty, but Izzy said it was all sugar and there’s no mold, so we decided to melt it down to make sure and made some ‘new’ Jolly Ranchers. Kids have never tried the flavors, but I think we did a pretty good job,” Maggie continued, dragging him off to the side.

“Green apple stayed the truest, I think,” Carol added, hearing the last part of the conversation. She was standing with Magna and Yumiko, all of them vaguely watching the kids scream and shout as they splashed. It was nice how loud they were comfortable being.

Negan felt like he needed to leave, it was wrong for him to be there. But he also knew soon enough no one would be able to stand being around him. So he was selfish and soaked up the atmosphere, trying to memorize how it felt to be surrounded by people and not ghosts.

The piñata was a watermelon slice, the colorful pink and green paper still bright and vibrant. Negan held the string as the kids lined up in height order, ready to raise and lower it. Each whack made tension crawl up his spine, but he kept a smile in place, unsure why his heart was racing.

As the kids got bigger and their hits harder, bits of candy started leaking out of the piñata, causing a scramble for the little treats. It wasn’t just candy in the piñata, but other small items. Negan recognized the little two packs of crayons they used to give kids at restaurants and assumed the bits of folded paper were activities or coloring pages. Bouncy balls and little plastic packs he recognized as bubble containers. All of them would be rare novelties now.

Judith was last in line. As the bigger kids came up, Negan focused on making the piñata dance, making it harder for them to get more than a small piece of the main body. The birthday girl would be the one to smash it.

When it was finally her turn, Negan’s stomach sank, even as he kept his smile in place. She wouldn’t be able to swing the piñata stick. At first, she took it with her left hand, eyeing the piñata and the tears it already had. Negan’s chest felt tight. She would hate him if he didn’t make it dance for her like everyone else.

Judith approached, nervously watching it. Her face lit up when Negan tugged the rope sharply, causing it to sail well above her head. She let out a laugh and lined up like she was going to take a swing. He jerked the rope up and down, the piñata dancing and swaying. She watched it like a huntress, eyes locked.

Suddenly, she sprung forward and he wanted to stop, wanted to lock his muscles and give her the best chance to hit it as hard as she could. But that wasn’t what Judith wanted, she wanted to be treated the same. At the last minute, the stick suddenly flew through the air, she had tossed it at him. Instinctively, he let go of the rope to catch it, and Judith twisted out, her prosthetic hand shooting forward.

The shink of a knife sounded as she cut the piñata in half, candy and toys scattering everywhere as she threw her head back and laughed. Moments later, she was scrambling along with everyone else to get the toys and treats, and the knife safely back in her prosthetic.

After the piñata, most of the kids played on land. There was a pig roast, and the cooks all pulled it out of the ground to cheers. The town fell on the food, and it felt like Before . 

Too many times, Negan went to turn and tell Daryl something, check on him, and share a smile over something the kids had done. Every time he looked at the empty space next to him, it hurt. 

How could he keep forgetting?

Then Carol was standing next to him, her shoulder brushing his when he went to turn. It wasn’t the same, but it made his throat threaten to close. 

He didn’t deserve her support. Or the looks Rick kept giving him. 

The plate of food Maggie brought him made his hands shake.

Today was about Judith.

Eventually, everyone slowly drifted home, Judith leaning heavily on Michonne as her mom helped her home. “Can you do my leg before I sleep?” Judith asked him through a yawn.

“I uh–” He looked between Rick and Michonne. Michonne’s eyes were still hard, she would never forgive or forget that Judith was his fault. But she nodded anyway; she had never kept Negan from Judith. “Okay.” He followed them into their house. “On the couch,” he decided, not wanting her in her bedroom.

Judith laid down, adjusting her dress around her upper thighs. She still had a skin-tight pair of shorts underneath, and Negan wondered briefly if it was because of him. But she didn’t seem at all worried, closing her eyes with her legs outstretched. Negan hated that Daryl ruined this. It was Judith. Massaging her was innocent. It helped her.

He knelt beside her, glancing to make sure Rick and Michonne stayed in the room, and took hold of her leg, massaging her gently. He tried to relax, but all he could see was Daryl’s shock and disgust.

When he was done, he backed away quickly and left their home. Not wanting to taint their sanctuary. He stared across the road at Rosita's home, but he didn't deserve that comfort. 

Negan let himself into his house and sighed, looking around at the destruction he’d caused. The living room was a mess of glass, wood, metal, and weapons. For a moment, he wanted to leave it like that, a warning to everyone that he destroyed things. 

But if Daryl came back to get something, he could hurt himself. Or one of the kids could come over. He sighed and started to clean up, wishing he could erase all the devastation he had caused as simply as picking up the living room.

Chapter Text

“Daryl wasn’t at Judith’s birthday party,” Cory whispered to Molly. “I told you something was up with them.”

“Did you hear all the noises coming from their house the night Daryl left?” Molly felt tears prick her eyes. It was so sad. “I heard that Negan was tired of all the weapons in their house. That Daryl always left them lying around and was turning their home into… a military base, practically.”

“Well, he’s always beyond the wall. Makes ya paranoid,” Cory defended.

“Negan apparently took them out – one of the kids mentioned needing to go to the Grimes’ to pick up an axe she’d left at their house. But Jo mentioned seeing him with a big duffle going back to their house after the Rick sparring match.” Molly fanned herself. It had been quite the sight seeing the two of them really going for each other.

“Bringing them back?”

“See that’s what I think too! Finally caved and brought them back, but when I opened the gate to let him out Daryl basically only had weapons.”

“I’m sure that’s all he needs,” Cory defended and Molly rolled her eyes at his obvious hero worship. “He probably could have gotten by completely unarmed.”

“ The sounds ,” Molly reminded him, trying to get him back on track. “Negan smashed up their weapons cabinet.”

“No!”

“Yep, saw the shards in the compost pile and the bits of metal in the recycling near the forge.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cory grumped. “That was one nice piece of furniture. If he didn’t want it anymore he could have given it to the pantry for the next person to have.”

“You idiot.” Molly smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Obviously, Daryl left Negan because of an argument about him needing to be armed all the time. Daryl’s gotten too paranoid. Haven’t you noticed how he’s been looking at everyone since he got back?”

“Daryl always looks like that.”

“This has been more. He’s jumpy and suspicious and doesn’t talk to anyone. Negan took the weapons to keep everyone safe, but Daryl must have threatened to leave him. Once Negan caved Daryl took what he could carry and left.”

“Such a shame,” Cory mourned. Molly nodded, humming thoughtfully. Finally, he got it. They had been so perfect for each other, she sniffed once and felt the tears building. Until he kept talking. “That was a nice cabinet.”

"You don't deserve to live."

"I promised him I would," Negan croaked, not bothering to open his eyes to see which of his ghosts he was talking to. It sounded like every voice in one.

"You also promised never to hurt him or his family. It's all you do, hurt people."

Raped him.

"You fail at everything you try to do. Those dogs you tried to rescue. Being there for your Mom. Marriage. Leading. Marriage. Saving people." They scoffed. "Marriage again."

"You are not worthy of the title of Buraz."

Negan plunged into a restless sleep surrounded by the abuse.

Negan woke up and silently got ready for work. He was left alone under the too-hot stream, trying not to remember the blow job he gave Daryl and the slightly horrified look Daryl had afterwards. Negan thought it was from pain.

He raped Daryl.

He came on Daryl's leg and laughed like it was funny. Like it was hot.

Because it was.

But Daryl was supposed to want it. He would have, before.

Would he?

“Not like I was complainin’.”

Negan left the shower and stared at the drawer where their sex toys were.

"Why'd you think I was lookin' at these?"

It wasn't a yes.

Jesus Christ.

He was glad to be at work twenty minutes later, surrounded by loud kids who didn't look at him any differently.

Until Scout called out, "Mr Dixon," and Negan went still.

Dixon.

He didn't deserve that name.

"I'll take your name. Everyone makes fun of mine."

"Mr Dixon?" Scout repeated.

"Sorry, Scout.” Negan cleared his throat, but it barely sounded like his own voice speaking. “What was your question?"

"You help with this one? The… times tables?"

Negan hummed and approached his table, leaning over it to help.

"Should you even be allowed near kids anymore?" Simon’s ghost asked, leaning against the wall by the door. "The moment the town finds out what you were doing with Judith, they're gonna kill you for taking this job."

"Mr Dixon?" Scout prompted when Negan didn't say anything.

"They've seen you with the orphans. I know you say kids are off limits, is that so we save them all for you?"

Negan jolted back from Scout, seeing the way everyone was looking at him. Blake, Brent, Richard, Matt, Robin, Aliyah, Coco—

Someone touched his arm, Negan pulled back, gasping. 

"Mr Dixon?"

"Uncle Negan?" Coco asked.

Coco.

She slept in his bed when she was younger. When she was so small and he was babysitting, because the night was too big. Rosita didn't question it. Did she not feel like she could? Like Daryl.

"I'm sorry—"

He opened the door and ran out. He sprinted down the hallway and outside, to the back of the school. As he collapsed to his knees, pain shot through his left leg.

He had only eaten a few bites of porridge, but it threatened to come back up.

Negan stayed there for a while catching his breath, before he limped towards the main road. He looked around until he found Cat and Brittney talking by the garden. They both smiled at him, yet, concern shone in their eyes. He had heard the rumors around the party, everyone knew he and Daryl had argued, then Daryl left. 

Only a few people knew why.

It wouldn’t take long before they all knew, and they would turn against him. That’s how it always went.

How he always failed.

"Hey, Negan." Cat narrowed her eyes filled with concern. "You okay?"

"I uh— I left class. Can you find someone to take over for me, please? I need to go."

"Of course," Brittney replied. "I can go take over now."

"Thank you." He reached out to touch her shoulder then drew back, would she let him? Did she think she had to let him fuck her when they were married ? Did she want to say no but couldn't? Why did she move back here? Did she think he ordered it when he expressed missing them, wanting them to be around more? "Sorry— I should— thank you." He rushed away, not waiting for them to respond.

Negan didn't want to be alone, but he couldn't be around them. Around anyone. 

If he left the gates, that was Daryl's space. Outside. The walls around Alexandria were so much nicer than his last cell, but he still felt them closing it. As they should, he was a danger, needed to be locked up. He found himself staring at Rick’s house, his mind already in the basement.

Was this how Daryl felt? Earlier Negan had thought it was strange that he hadn’t even tried to go beyond the walls. Did he think he couldn’t?

Eventually, Negan decided on the pond. It was close enough to Alexandria that Daryl wasn’t likely to be lurking near it. The memories from yesterday were fresh and hopefully enough to keep the ghosts at bay. Princess was on gate duty, and Negan promised her he was just going to the pond. After a few moments of hesitation, she let him. He couldn’t tell if the wariness on her face was normal or because she knew.

The kids were in school, none of them would be at the pond. She didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t tell her that. Not until he knew she knew. Even though he knew there wouldn’t be anyone there, everyone else would actually be doing their work–unlike him– he didn’t relax until the empty pond came into view. 

Alone. 

He sat on the grass and stared at the water, praying Daryl wasn't nearby.

"Could drown yourself," his own voice spoke up.

"Promised Daryl I wouldn't die and promised Judith I'd go to every PT session," he murmured.

"You already failed. You missed her walking! For what ? A man that hates you? You forced her father to miss her first steps."

"I told him to go home—"

"You did, but I stayed," Rick spoke up.

Negan glanced at him, leaning against the metal wall of Alexandria, his arms crossed. "For Daryl, and to make sure I didn’t kill myself before we found him," Negan argued.

"And to stick with a man I call my friend and brother." Rick uncrossed his arms, letting Negan see the prosthetic. "How real are they?"

Negan closed his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. "Very."

Rick toed off his boots and sat beside him, putting his feet in the water. "When Lori was pregnant, I wasn't very nice to her. I was fighting to keep everyone alive. I'd just killed Shane. I was— it was a lot." Negan arched an eyebrow at Rick, wondering where he was going with it. "You know how she died, right? And Carl had to—"

"Yeah," Negan croaked, so Rick didn't have to finish the sentence.

"After that— there was this phone, in the prison we were livin' in. I heard it ring. I answered it, I talked to people." Rick chuckled with no real humor in the sound. "There was no dial tone, it wasn't even connected. And then I kept seein' Lori, in her weddin' dress. She touched me once. Kissed me once.”

"Huh. You ever told anyone?"

"Michonne. Hershel–Maggie’s dad– knew about it, too."

Negan hummed. "It started in the cell, in the darkness, the cold. All I had were my memories. I made them real."

"I'm sorry, you know? I wish we handled it better."

"Wish we both handled a lot of things better." Negan sighed and threw a stone into the pond. "I need another job, to pay my way. Or… I can go, I can go back to the tavern—"

"What? Why?"

"You know what Daryl thought I was doing with Judith. I don't want anyone else—"

"Nobody thinks that, Negan. I trust you with Judith and RJ more than I ever expected to. Rosita trusts you with Coco and Lazaro. She feels the same way I do, you're family. The kids at the house trust you; you were the first one they trusted. Sometimes I think the only one they fully do. Besides, Daryl reacted to a scene that, yeah, looked bad, but it was innocent."

"How can you trust that?"

"Because I know you. Because Judith trusts you." Rick patted his shoulder. "Look, Daryl's gone for a few days at least. You should get back into routine. Go to work, come and eat with us at dinner. We'll figure out what's next when he's back. Come and live with us if you need, Judith would like the company, she’s been extra tired recently."

Negan shook his head. "Daryl will need somewhere he can stay. I'm okay at h— my house."

"Being alone isn't good for you. What about Rosita's? I know you two are close."

"She's got enough to do."

"A busy house, it's what's good for you. She won't mind. You have family here, anyone will be glad to have you with them.”

Negan shook his head. "The house is okay. I can stay there."

"Negan—"

"I have to."

Rick sighed but stopped arguing.

“Hey, sweetheart, need anything?” Michonne asked, gently pushing Judith’s hair behind her ear.

“M’okay,” Judith murmured with a yawn. “I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“You want me to bring you dinner?”

“Not hungry.” Judith sighed and sat up.

“Need help?”

“I’m fine.” Judith slid off the sofa, unable to hide her wince. The blisters were starting to fade, but they were still there.

Dog stood from his bed and grunted as he followed Judith up the stairs. Michonne considered following them, but knew it would just annoy Judith more. As much as she hated it, Negan was the best for improving Judith’s mood. Yet Michonne knew she couldn’t get Negan right now. He was too lost in his own worries to see Judith falling back into the depression that nearly broke her last winter.

“Just make dinner here,” RJ said.

“I should talk–”

“She doesn’t want to talk. She just wants you to stay, we both do.” RJ dropped his comic on the table and got up, following Judith.

Michonne sighed. She couldn’t blame her kids for still being mad at her for leaving them. She thought RJ had understood, he seemed the first to forgive when she returned. But as he got older he seemed to be getting mad at her more and more.

She went on the run before his birthday and hadn’t even considered it. Nobody had. Except Judith. She knew Rj struggled with how close Judith was with Negan and Daryl when he wasn’t as close, and yet he never took that out on Judith. He loved her more than anything.

She sighed again and took RJ’s advice, searching the cupboards for what she could cook, finding stuff for a salad. Rick came home just as it was done, eyebrows raised. “No town hall?”

Michonne shook her head. “I’m worried about Judith. She’s falling into her depression again.”

Rick eyed the stairs. “I was startin’ to think the same thing. She was particularly intense in her PT yesterday.”

She sighed and dished out the dinner. “I’ll take this up to the kids.”

She went upstairs, but Judith’s room was empty. Instead, she found her already asleep on RJ’s twin bed, Dog curled up beside her. RJ sat on his chair, doing some homework with the curtains open just enough to let the evening sunlight hit his desk. The sheriff's hat was on the desk beside him.

Michonne had lost count of the number of times she found the siblings sleeping back to back in bed after Judith’s accident. Judith seeking RJ the same way RJ had always sought his big sister when they were little. When storms shook the house Michonne was always on the wall, guarding against walkers drawn by the sound the walls made when thunder rumbled through them. By the time the storms died down, or someone relieved her enough to check on her kids, they would be asleep in Judith’s room.

For a long time, it was Judith who was protective of RJ, there for him. But since her accident, RJ had taken up the reins. He had grown up so much, and Michonne didn’t really want to see it, but he was so responsible.

Throughout Judith’s recovery, he didn’t complain once. He anticipated Judith’s needs before she did, his was the loudest cheer when she took her first steps and looked around for the men that were supposed to be celebrating with her but weren’t there.

Michonne was so proud of him and wished she could be proud of herself for being part of that, but it was Daryl and Judith that got him through the scariest years of the Whisperers War. It was them who taught him how to survive better than she had. Daryl with simple survival skills and even Negan with the combat training.

She knew both kids were struggling with how distant Daryl had been and hoped the explanation would help them. Eventually, it might.

Daryl stayed out for a week. He stayed close, hunting as he went, leaving his kills near the gate just before sunrise when it was dark enough his coming and going would be unnoticed. Unable to face anyone, wondering if they knew. Ironic that when he was Negan’s whore he thought everyone knew and barely cared. Now knowing that they thought he liked it made it different somehow. He couldn’t face that.

On the fourth day, there was a bag left in the same place with some spare clothes, food, and water. He took them, although he knew he couldn't stay out for much longer. It was reckless; he was risking them. 

Risking his family with Negan.

He hadn't made up his mind what he believed. All he knew was that some of his family believed he and Negan were happily married. Daryl couldn't. Maybe they had moments where things were good, Negan tried to be kind, but it didn't make sense.

He waited until night to go back. Jerry was on the gate when he arrived, the large Savior— not a Savior?— grinned at him. "Hey dude! You're back. Everyone worried about you and Negan. Couples argue, y'know. Me and Nabila have had our fair share of fights, but we always figure it out."

"Yeah, thanks," Daryl muttered, again wondering why there was a sense of embarrassment around him. Hesitantly, he asked, "Can ya do me a favor and not tell anyone I'm back?" If Negan suddenly knew he was back, he would know Jerry reported to him. He needed to start figuring out where everyone’s loyalties lay.

Jerry frowned but nodded. "Sure?"

Daryl grunted his thanks.

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and made his way to the houses, eyes darting around as he went, waiting for Negan to appear out of the shadows.

He knocked on the door of the house Carol said was hers. When no one answered, he opened the door. "Carol?"

No reply. He looked around the house. Empty. He dropped his bag by the door, kept his crossbow close within reach, and collapsed on the bed, falling asleep nearly instantly.

He woke with the sun and glanced around, taking a second to remember where he was.

After days in the woods, Daryl needed a shower, Carol would comment the moment she saw him if he didn't, and he needed everyone to stop looking at him as though he was a wild animal.

Just as he reached the bathroom, he stopped in the doorway as though he had walked into a wall, every sense on alert as though he were in danger. Eyes scanned the bathroom, looking for the threat. His heartbeat sped up. He couldn’t breathe. Goosebumps broke out. The hair on the back of his neck stood up despite the sweat already forming. He couldn’t see or think about anything other than how small it was.

He grew up with a smaller bathroom. Had made due with stalls in shitty gas stations when he'd spent time away from his father's cabin. This was ridiculous; the bathroom was gigantic compared to those.

Despite not seeing anything dangerous, his body refused to listen to him. His instincts pushed him away so that he ended up leaning against the wall, staring at the bathroom door. Goddamn, what was wrong with him. He hadn't felt like this before.

The large open-planned bathroom in the house he shared with Negan suddenly made sense. Was this why Negan knocked the wall down?

He could go into a bathroom, what was he supposed to do if he couldn’t? Piss and shit outside and shower with a hose?

The panic attack threatened and he considered it for a second, just going out back where people couldn't see him and using the fucking hose. I'm not a dog, I can use a fucking shower. Coward.

He growled at himself and pushed off the wall and into the bathroom. The open door didn't feel like a concession, just common sense. But he kept his shower quick – in case anyone came home and for no other reason – and changed into some of his cleaner clothes.

Daryl let out a breath of relief as he jogged back downstairs, where he stared at the door, considering his options. Eventually, he decided to peek out the window in time to see the town was starting to get busy. Carol's house was closer to the main road than his and Negan's, letting him see everyone walking around. Those on night guard duty were coming home to nap and have breakfast before going about their usual daily duties. He watched Judith limping down the road, Michonne at her side. Both of them had towels flung over their shoulders, going to the pond for a morning swim. Dog was plodding along with them, but he paused, nose in the air, before Judith gestured for him to follow.

Daryl was supposed to help her with that. Negan mentioned she asked for them both to do it. Daryl could, just them. A chance to know his Asskicker properly and apologize for scaring her.

Daryl saw him then, looking like he came out of one of the townhouses - Rick’s? He couldn't see from this angle.

Negan walked down the road, hands stuffed in his pockets, his head low. Princess stopped to talk to him, and Negan smiled at her, replying but quickly moving past her, heading presumably towards the school. 

Daryl watched Mark and Cat leave the gates, a longbow on his shoulder and a rifle on hers. 

He watched as Rick walked around the town, Gabriel in a wheelchair beside him as they talked, heading towards the town hall.

Daryl stayed in place for the entire day, just watching the town like he was watching a game trail. Everything seemed so normal without the haze of fear. A town, living comfortably, happily, and healthily.

As the evening approached, he sat trying to decide what to do. He couldn't hide forever, and if he was right, if this was all some long game from Negan, he had to be there to help. Stop him before he could hurt anyone.

As everyone started in the direction of the town hall for dinner, Daryl waited until the street was empty before making his own way there. He was nearly at the door when movement from the street caught his attention. He looked around, hand tightening on his crossbow when he saw him. Negan was approaching the town hall, frozen. Just a few yards from him.

They stood there until Jared walked between them, glancing back and forth with a frown. Breaking the spell.

When Jared was out of the way, Negan was gone.

Daryl watched the direction he had been for a few moments and then let himself inside. A few people glanced his way, and the chatter died down briefly, then started up again louder. Daryl joined the line, ignoring the empty space beside him. His back was cold from where Negan's hand usually rested.

He was at the back of the line and by the time he had his dinner everywhere looked full, but he made his way to the usual table. Carol was in his seat, leaving Negan's free. Daryl hesitated another moment, then sat in it.

Everyone stared at him blankly and he realized everyone at this table knew. 

They knew he let Negan fuck him, for them, for nothing . It felt as horrible as he expected, worse than being a whore.

He didn't know what the rest of the town knew, but this was his family and they couldn’t hide the pity in their gaze. Only Carol didn’t look at him any differently. Gabriel and Coco weren't there, thankfully. The girl loved her ‘Uncle Negan’ and Daryl didn’t know how to handle it if she asked questions.

"Maggie gone?" he asked conversationally, glancing around pointedly. Don't ask me anything, please.

"Yeah, they had to get back to the Hilltop," Carol answered. "She asked us to say goodbye when you got back."

Daryl hummed, ignoring the guilt that spiked. He should have apologized for what he did. For Glenn.

He wondered if he already had, did it count? Would it just be dredging up old pain that she had moved past? Daryl finally decided he wouldn’t bring it up; his fresh guilt shouldn’t stir up her pain to make him feel better.

"Anyone gonna tell me what I lost?" He dipped his bread in the stew and took a bite while glancing around the too quiet table, eyes full of sympathy staring back at him.

They all knew Negan fucked him, they knew he didn't want it.

Did he?

A bark and a wet nose pressed against his leg. Daryl smiled down at Dog and ran his hand through his fur. Negan wasn’t around to hide it from but Daryl still was careful sneaking him a piece of his stew meat. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to keep it down as his stomach roiled, waiting for a response.

"What'd I lose?" he asked again quietly, pleading them to tell him something.

Rick cleared his throat and started talking, telling him about how they started and then won the war with Negan. Daryl searched his memory with each piece of information, there was a sense of familiarity, fear, pain, rage, guilt.

They kept it to the base facts for now, only going into detail when Daryl asked, but promised to answer any questions he had.

Rick didn't explain what happened to Carl. Despite burning with grief-fueled curiosity, Daryl decided not to ask surrounded by so many people. Eugene took over to his surprise, telling him of his plan and how he started the factory of bullets and made them wrong. He won them the war. Daryl chuckled, impressed that coward he knew was the reason they all survived.

Then Negan was in prison for years under Rick’s house. The easiest part to believe was that he and Maggie had tried to kill Negan, even though betraying Rick sounded wrong.

Rick's voice tightened as he told him about the bridge and where he went. Michonne, Carol, and Rosita took over to tell Daryl what happened in Alexandria over those years. The rest of the town hall was starting to empty as they got to what and who the Whisperers were.

Rick took Judith's arm as she passed and said something quietly.

Judith nodded, and Daryl's heart dropped into his stomach when Judith just smiled thinly at him, but didn't stop to say anything.

Shit.

He really messed up with her.

Deciding they needed a drink, Michonne led them all home after dinner. Rosita, Gabriel, and Eugene went home, but Carol stayed with him, Rick, and Michonne to keep explaining.

Once in the house, Carol cleared her throat and said, "After the Whisperers, once we were safe again, you left to follow Michonne and Rick. To help them." Michonne poured them all glasses of something clear. A sniff told him it was moonshine. "We don't know much of what happened there, just that a group grabbed you and hurt you. All you've told me was they saw your back and tried to use that same method to get information from you."

"What information?"

"Where Alexandria is."

Daryl hummed. No wonder he had so many new scars; he would never give that up. If the story was true.

“They burned your feet when you tried to run,” Carol added. “That’s why they’re scarred.”

"Negan found you," Rick took over, holding Daryl's gaze. "Pure luck. He decided to get you out, he took you somewhere—"

"A tavern," Carol interjected. "I've heard you two talk about 'the tavern'." 

The first flash of an image; a lake, comfort.

"Right," Rick nodded, "a tavern, to heal up for a few weeks, until you could walk again. You decided to bring him back here. Told everyone you were together then."

"You got married about a year ago," Carol finished, a thoughtful look coming over her.

"How long was I gone… with him?"

"Less than a year. Nine months? Give or take. You haven't told me much about it."

Nine months. Nine months where nobody knew what happened but him or Negan.

Nine months where Negan could have done anything to him. Broken him and made him do whatever he wanted. It had only taken him a day to kneel and say I am Negan this time. He hadn’t even hurt Daryl and he’d done everything Negan wanted. 

At the Sanctuary Negan had only hurt him when he’d tried to escape and he’d been holding on by a thread barely a week into it. Alone. With Rick gone? He wondered how long he actually held out, how long Negan kept him as a play thing to make sure when they made it back to Alexandria Daryl wouldn’t tell anyone the truth. 

"We didn't accept him right away," Michonne said. "But we trusted you, so we started to get to know him."

Daryl studied Michonne, he had seen the looks she gave Negan, the distrust and anger. She was the only one that didn’t seem to like him. Michonne smiled back at him, frowning slightly.

“And Judith?”

“Hm?”

“Her amputations. She told me Ne– he did that.” Saying his name felt dangerous, even in Rick’s house. Like it would conjure him or one of his Saviors would overhear. 

How many of the town were actually Saviors? How many were from the other communities or new?

“That–” Rick licked his lips and looked at Michonne. “She overheard me talking about– that Shane is her biological father.”

Daryl winced. He had noticed how similar she was to him and wondered if Rick had.

“She ran out. Went over the walls. You and Michonne were on a run. Negan went after her, because he knew she’d hide from me because she was angry. But they got caught by a herd in a storm. She fell down into a ravine they thought was empty. She landed on a ledge, but so did a walker. It bit her, and Negan jumped after her. He cut off her arm and climbed back up the hill. Her leg had a deep cut that got infected. We had to cut it off. I couldn’t–”

Daryl didn't think he'd ever forget Rick holding the axe above Carl's hand, begging Negan.

“Negan took over.” Rick let out a shuddering breath, but pressed on as though determined to tell him everything. “But it wasn’t enough, Judith had tetanus too. Negan had pneumonia, but he went to find Izzy. One of his old groups was full of scientists and doctors. He nearly died to do it, but Maggie went with him. That’s when they came to an understanding. Though I don't know exactly what happened there. Maggie would have to tell you.”

“Christ,” Daryl muttered, a strange feeling of pain and fear and anger washed over him. The parallels that Maggie and Negan came to an understanding while alone made him sick. Worse than alone, surrounded by Negan’s people. 

How long were they gone? Did she have scars? Izzy was a doctor, he bet she knew how to hurt someone with little to no markings.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed, unaware of the turn Daryl’s thoughts had taken. “Judith doesn’t talk about it much, except to him. She trusts him and loves him a lot.”

“Fuck.” Judith and Negan alone, her dependance on him afterwards. How did it not raise any red flags? Was it just because he knew what it was like when someone who was supposed to help you hurt you instead? 

He’d never left his dad for long, was always his staunchest defender when people talked about him. Daryl wondered if he’d still be with him now, cleaning up after him and accepting whatever abuse he dished out, if he was alive. Was he just destined to be under someone’s boot? At home in the dirt and painful pressure of being ground into nothing, pressed into the shape they wanted.

“Yeah.” Rick rubbed at his arm under his prosthetic, then spotted Daryl’s stare, eyes locked on it. “I did this myself. At the CRM, trying to escape.”

Daryl forced himself to look at Rick’s eyes, needing to know if there was any blame there. "And… Carl?"

Rick closed his eyes for a second, as though hiding his pain from Daryl, breathing softly.

“He was bit,” Michonne answered, her voice carefully blank, which revealed the pain more than crying would have. “He went out to help someone.”

"He wrote me a letter? Said… it weren't my fault. Was I with 'im?"

"No. He was talking about Negan getting out." Rick explained how they led a herd to the Sanctuary, trapping Negan and his people inside. Then Daryl went against the plan and drove a truck into the doors to let the walkers inside. But in doing that, he let Negan out.

Rage boiled up, and Daryl wanted to hit something. Preferably Negan.

Instead, he picked up his glass and drank it in one. The burn hit his stomach like fire. "M'so fuckin' sorry," Daryl said for what he did, and for Carl.

Rick just nodded, not looking him in the eye. “There’s probably a lot we’ve missed, but there’s a lot for you to process. Your attic room is still free," Rick said, "if you want to stay there."

"Thanks. Stayed in Carol's house yesterday. Where were ya?" He asked the mostly silent Carol.

"With Jerry and Nabila. It's… difficult to be in that house without Ezekiel."

"Jerry was… the Kingdom?" He asked to clarify. Not a Savior. A man who fought against them. So why did he feel a sense of embarrassment around him?

“Yeah. He was Ezekiel's right hand man. Best friend.” Carol stood and smiled tightly. “That's my cue to go, but you know where to find me.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks.” Daryl stumbled up the stairs, his feet knowing where to go as his tired mind let them direct him. The attic room was mostly empty, except for a bed already made up. He sat on the edge and dropped his head into his hands.

This was wrong. Everything was so goddamn wrong, and he didn’t know what to do next.

Negan turned and walked quickly away from Daryl as he was going into the town hall. He shouldn't get in the way of Daryl having time with his family. He didn't know where to go, and both Rick and Rosita tried to insist that he didn't stay alone in the house.

But how could he put another burden on Rosita? Or take away a safe space from Daryl.

Daryl hadn't been able to hide that second of fear when he saw him. It was too much, weeks of that split second look blinding him as he saw all the times he failed to spot it. He sat in his living room - on the couch Daryl and he shared more than one dalliance - and listened to the guilt his subconscious made his ghosts spew as abuse.

"Please, stop," Negan whispered. "Please. I just want to be alone."

"Eight years you had to be alone! Eight years! You're the one who brought us here."

"I don't care! Fuck off!" He dug his nails into his palm, but it did nothing. "Please!"

“How many times did Daryl wish you would leave him alone, but was forced to put up with you? Afraid for his family? Willing to do anything for them. Kneel. Roll over and be your whore.”

Negan swung out with his fist, flailing in midair and throwing him off balance, expecting his fist to land.

“Fuck! Not fucking real. You know they're not real. You know. You do!”

"You forgot for a while," Lucille spoke up, sitting next to him. "Before Annie, before Daryl." She ran a hand down the side of his face and brushed his hair behind his ear. It had gotten so long he needed to cut it. "Remember? On your own, the nights we would spend talking, making love." Negan clenched his jaw, he had tried hard to forget those days of madness. He had told Daryl enough, but not everything.

"You're not real. Just shut up!" He leapt to his feet, away from Lucille.

“Not real?” He was surrounded by them, his lieutenants and his wives all looking at him with disdain. “How can we not be real? We are Negan.”

He paced the room and then cursed as pain pierced his foot. Negan lifted it and looked at the large piece of wood in it. Too big to call a splinter.

Shit. He always cleaned the floor obsessively, he was careful so that Daryl would walk around barefoot without having to worry about cutting the sensitive skin there.

He managed to easily pull the wood out and took it to the trash, then swept three times. Dragging out the mop to clean the blood from his foot. He laid on the ground to look closer for any splinters.

It was only as he lay there did he realize: it was quiet.

Negan looked up and around himself. He was alone.

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, he pressed his bleeding foot into the floor, hissing at the sharp pain. Was there still a splinter in there or was it just cut?

"What are you doing?"

He jumped and tilted his head to RJ at the open front door. "Not now, kid."

"You're bleeding? I can get—"

"I said not now."

“I know Judith would want to be here, but–”

Negan climbed to his feet and towered over him. “She doesn’t need to. Just leave me alone, goddamnit.” He took hold of his upper arm and gently turned him to the front door, closing it behind him and locking it.

He pushed his weight on his injured foot and breathed slowly, enjoying the silence and squashing the guilt with pain.

RJ stormed home. He was just trying to help. He knew Judith would want to check on Negan if she was thinking straight, so he did it for her.

He cared about Negan, but he hated how close he and Judith were. Because he didn't have that. Negan would die for Judith, he’d proved that, but would he for RJ?

Judith was everyone's favorite. Negan's, Daryl's, Dad’s, even Mom's. Everyone fawned over the girl who was born at the start of the end. Like she was some sort of miracle.

But RJ couldn't hate Judith for that. She didn’t have anything to do with it. Was the one that was always there for him. She remembered his birthday when everyone else had forgotten, even after she had gone through hell and lost two limbs. Half her body.

She apologized for missing it while she was stuck in her tetanus room like she had left on purpose–like Mom who had gone on that run without considering his birthday.

“Hey, where'd you go?” Mom asked as RJ let himself into the house. 

“Nowhere,” he muttered and jogged upstairs, unsurprised to find Judith asleep in his bed again. She started joining him when she came home from the infirmary, limping or dragging herself from room to room.

When RJ offered to come to her room, she had shrugged and said that room is where the nightmares come out, his room was safer. So he shrugged it off and sat by his desk. He opened his drawer and took out one of his knives to twirl in his hand as though he would use it to protect her.

Not that he was as good with a knife as she was, or a sword, or anything really. Negan had taught him enough sparing he was okay, but Judith would be back to kicking his butt as soon as she got used to her new limbs. He didn’t doubt that.

RJ could fight, he's been training in everything he could. Jackson said he just hasn't found his weapon yet, always keeping an eye out for something new and setting it aside for him. Most of the kids his age had something by now and it sucked being the only one that was just average with everything he tried.

He flipped the knife in his hand and sighed, deciding he was tired enough for bed and went to get ready. There was enough room for him to lay beside Judith.

Chapter Text

“I heard his pa also had problems with drinking,” Cathy murmured to Amy as they both passed the Grimes house and saw Carol and Daryl walking in with the other leaders. The moonshine jug was obvious in Daryl’s hand.

“I heard when they went to Clover Field they ended up spending the night in the drunk tank,” Amy told her. Brooke had mentioned it at her last visit before heading back to her community. The former Sanctuary worker often stayed with her and Mark when visiting rather than in the traders housing.

“Do you think it was the injuries that sparked it this time? My momma used to fall off the wagon when she had too much inactivity. Like being bored meant she couldn’t stay sober.” Cathy shook her head slightly, looking sad about her mom, so Amy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Momma was never mean though. Weepy and maudlin, but not mean. If Daryl’s pa was mean do you think it’s hereditary? I steer clear of the stuff just in case.”

“I haven’t ever seen him drunk, but I doubt it? I can’t see Negan putting up with it for long.” Amy tried to remember if Mark ever mentioned Negan drinking, he’d known him a long time.

“Maybe they just need a break?” Cathy sounded hopeful and Amy remembered she was probably around ten when the world fell. Too young to really understand how few marriages survived. “I hope they work it out and Daryl gets the help he needs.”

“Me too, doesn’t look like the Grimes are taking it seriously if they’re letting him bring moonshine in the house though. Maybe we should say something.” Amy would keep an eye on Negan at the school, he’d need support dealing with an alcoholic husband. 

“Maybe we should be sure. Once we have more evidence we can bring it to the council. He just needs help, he helps everyone else all the time. It’s time we do something for him.” Cathy seemed determined and Amy kept her mouth shut. Telling her that people only really got help when they wanted to would burst her bubble, and Amy really wanted to be optimistic.

Rick rolled onto his side, then onto his front, and sighed. His mind spun, sleep refused to come.

"You okay?" Michonne whispered in the dark. She reached her hand out, running it up and down his arm.

"Can't sleep," Rick told her. It was a regular enough occurrence that Michonne wasn't surprised. "Gonna get a drink."

"Want me?"

"No. You sleep." Rick kissed her forehead and checked on both sleeping kids. Judith was in RJ’s bed as usual these days. She whimpered in her sleep but before Rick could move, RJ rolled over and hummed. 

“S’kay. Jus’ sleep.” Judith relaxed at her brother’s voice, so Rick left them alone, making his way to the kitchen. 

He was surprised that the light was still on; they were all aware of how much electricity they used and its impact on the town's batteries. But he wasn't surprised to find Daryl sitting by the island, sipping on a glass of water and staring at his hand. 

Dog was at his feet, enjoying having Daryl around again. Now that he thought about it he had noticed Daryl not caring much about Dog, not like he used to, and wished he could explain why to the confused animal.

Daryl looked up at Rick's footsteps and smiled thinly at him. 

"Hey," Rick greeted. "Can't sleep?"

Daryl shrugged. "Slept better out there." He gestured vaguely towards the gate. "You?"

"I don't sleep much anymore," Rick admitted, getting himself a glass of water and sitting opposite Daryl.

"Since the CRM?"

Rick shrugged. "Since I was in a coma 'n woke up to a world that wants to eat me."

"Yeah," Daryl hummed, "remember you sayin' that. Remember talkin' half the night at the prison."

"Christ, the prison." Rick laughed softly, memories assaulting him. He and Daryl had spent so many nights just talking, sitting on the roof or somewhere quiet while one of them soothed Judith. "That was… a lifetime ago. Two lifetimes ."

"A few months for me," Daryl said quietly.

Rick reached across the island to squeeze his arm. Daryl caught his eye and smiled softly as Rick let go, his chest suddenly felt too tight. Negan had told him about Daryl's feelings for him. 

“You were the first person to ever see him. Trust him. Ask his opinion on shit. You’d spend whole nights on watch talking and plannin’. He loved the shit outta you, Prick.”

If Daryl's mind was still trapped fourteen years ago, did that mean he felt that way now? The thought added another layer of hurt, a ghost of betrayal for their relationship.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Rick asked, the words coming out more biting and assuming than he intended. But he spent the last week with that on his mind and it hurt that Daryl didn't trust him. "I thought— after everything we've been through—"

Daryl didn't reply for a moment, chewing on his thumbnail. Rick was torn between changing the subject and yelling at him to explain when Daryl sighed and said, "I wake up and you're fetching Negan before I can even really understand what's happenin'. Then he's there. Next time I could talk to ya I saw your arm and thought… he–" He shook his head. "Then you called him brother, told him I was confused. I didn't want to put you in a spot where you'd have to choose between the kids and me. Cause I need you to choose the kids, Rick." His hands jolted, and he stared down at the missing fingers again. Rick could see his hands shaking. Daryl clenched them both around his glass of water. "You gotta choose the kids," he whispered desperately.

"Hey, hey." Rick took his hand, the one with the missing fingers. "You're family too,” he could hear Daryl’s words echoing his own from two lifetimes ago at the prison.

"And he's your brother?" Daryl snapped. "Thought that meant somethin'."

"It does. He saved your life. Mine too. He nearly died for Judith, multiple times. When we were out lookin' for you, we talked. We really talked 'n I got it, why you were able to forget—" He cut himself off with a wince.

"Nah, that's the part I ain't forgotten," Daryl said, attempting a teasing smirk that didn't quite meet his eyes.

Rick chuckled. "You know what I mean. He is my brother, as much as you are. And you need to know, he never would have…" Daryl looked down at his glass, fingers tightening on it, "if he knew," Rick finished not needing to put it into words. "Never."

Daryl hummed, his eyes flicked to Rick's again and they fell into a strained silence until Daryl broke it.

"I looked for ya, for years, huh?" Daryl asked him, a tint of red on his cheeks, but his eyes locked on Rick's stump.

"I've been told." His stomach twisted. He loved Daryl as a brother, he didn't want anything to change between them; he had to act normal. Nothing had changed. "You don't talk about it much."

"Do you talk 'bout the CRM much?"

Rick shrugged. "Just to Michonne."

Daryl hummed and sipped at his drink. "Do I talk 'bout… what happened, the hotel, much?"

"Just to Negan," Rick admitted.

"Thought you'd say that." Daryl sighed. "I'm gonna try to get some more sleep." He drank the last of his water and stood.

"I'll be here most nights, if you can't sleep again." Daryl put his glass in the sink, having to pass Rick to do it. Rick squeezed his arm as he passed.

Daryl didn't get much more sleep, all he could think about was Rick's earnest eyes and the pain when he asked why Daryl didn't come to him. He gave up as the sun rose and found most of the Grimes family already awake. Only RJ was missing from breakfast.

“Hey, Lil Asskicker.” Daryl sat beside her in the kitchen as she ate her cereal. She glanced at him, jaw tight. “M’sorry, y’know. For scarin’ you like that last week.”

“You didn’t scare me. You scared Negan.”

He couldn’t imagine Negan scared.

Negan kneeling under a tree, holding a bloody hand to his neck, blood kept pumping out as he stared up at Rick, terrified and broken.

Judith stared at her cereal and said, “And you accused Negan of disgusting shit–”

“Judith,” Michonne snapped.

“It is disgusting shit!” Judith snapped back.

“Still, no need for the language.”

Judith rolled her eyes. “He accused him of it and now Negan is scared to hug me!" She sighed. "I’m not hungry anyway. Got PT soon.” She pushed her bowl away and climbed off her chair.

“Exactly, you should eat,” Michonne tried to argue.

Daryl sat up. “PT? Today?” Negan always went to them. He told Daryl how much he hated having missed them while looking for him.

“Shit,” Rick muttered, ignoring the glare Michonne sent him. “Yeah. He’ll be here any minute.”

“I gotta go.” Daryl picked up his own bowl of cereal and drank it down.

“You can’t even be in the same house?” Judith scoffed from the kitchen doorway.

“It’s complicated,” Rick argued for him.

“Can’t you just trust that we trust him?” Judith asked, ignoring Rick and staring at Daryl. “Mom and Dad trust him! They didn’t right away! We all trusted him for you, that’s the only reason he wasn’t thrown in that cell, because you asked them not to. You can't trust him for us?” 

Daryl glanced at Michonne, seeing her lips tight and her hand clenched on her spoon. He had seen her openly glare and argue with Negan, did she actually trust him? Did she see something none of the rest of them did.

“S’ complicated,” he repeated Rick’s words. “I gotta go get some of my sh—" he glanced at Michonne's glare, " stuff . Might as well do it while he's ain't there.”

He jogged upstairs to get his crossbow and the bag someone had left for him while he was out. The bag of clothes from when he was beyond the wall were all dirty, he needed to get the rest of his clothes. He could do that while Negan was gone, but then where could he take them?

He was a coward; he shouldn’t leave again. Should watch Negan, but he couldn’t yet. Just seeing him outside the town hall the day before had sent his heart racing. Michonne would watch him, Daryl had to believe she wouldn’t let him do something while he was gone.

He left the bag empty except for a few arrows, in case he decided to go back out, then went back downstairs. The door opened easily under his hand, the hesitation he had leaving a house only applied to the one he shared with Negan. His mind was still convinced he needed to wait, or that it would be locked, that he wasn’t allowed. But the knob twisted easily and he froze at the sight of Negan on the porch.

"Daryl, hi," Negan said, eyes wide.

Daryl shouldered past him and made sure he stalked, rather than fled, towards the rest of the houses. Negan shouldn't think he could make Daryl run from his family.

Daryl let himself into the house he had lived in for the last few weeks, pausing in the doorway. Something was different. He glanced around and saw that the cabinet was gone, all of the weapons were in a small pile by the wall.

He took a few then jogged upstairs and into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, with the bag they had taken hunting left on it. Daryl hesitated and then opened it. He ignored the butt plug to find the knife Negan said he liked, the one with the galaxy handle. Daryl knew he shouldn't take it, it would just piss him off, but then what would he do?

Blame RJ and hurt him?

Daryl sighed and put it back, he couldn't risk the teenager. Even if it might show him who hid under Negan’s mask, there wasn’t even a guarantee he would slip and reveal himself. Not where Daryl could see and stop him. He’d gotten to Maggie and Judith when they were alone with him, Daryl knew he never would have let Negan hurt them if he was around. 

He was risking Judith leaving Negan there alone during the PT sessions. Rick and Michonne didn't think he was a threat, despite how Michonne looked at Negan sometimes. They wouldn’t watch them the way Daryl knew they needed to be watched. His earlier conviction that Michonne would be enough vanished as time passed away from them, standing in the house he’d been trapped in for the last few weeks.

They trusted him. Daryl’s fault for bringing Negan back to Alexandria.

He was being a coward, he should stay with Judith, watch Negan. Even if it meant his skin crawled and stomach knotted being near him, he’d been doing it since he woke up. Should he really give in now that he knew he didn’t have to endure it? Daryl took a few of his own clothes from the drawers. When he saw a jar of the moisturizer Negan used to massage his scars, Daryl grabbed it. His feet were dry and cracking, he could do them himself.

He then stared at the bathroom. He never had a problem using it other than when Negan was around. No fear assaulted him as he did his business, no panic attack loomed. Just irritation that he was relieved.

Negan paused with his hand on the door handle to the Grimes’ house. If Daryl was living here, he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Indecision nearly ripped him in half. He promised Judith he’d be at every PT session, but Daryl needed him to stay away right now.

The door opened suddenly. Daryl stood on the other side, the backpack Negan left outside the gates for him on his back and his crossbow in hand. His eyes wide.

“Daryl, hi.”

Daryl surged forwards, shouldering Negan out of the way and jogging down the stairs. Negan closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

He sighed and stepped in, shouting a louder hello. Rick and Michonne called out and he found them setting up the room for PT with Judith helping. “Hey, Miss Grimes.”

RJ came down the stairs and looked around, sending a glare Negan’s way before padding to the kitchen for breakfast. Negan frowned, he should apologize for snapping at him. But how could he explain? 

Guilt was a familiar pain in his chest, and he shifted side to side to feel the physical throbbing in his foot to counterbalance it. Right now he needed to focus on Judith’s PT, he’d figure out how to make it up to RJ.

Daryl muttered a curse to himself, took a deep breath, and let himself back into the Grimes' house. He couldn't avoid Negan forever. He had to be around him; he had to watch him.

He glanced into the living room to see Judith holding Negan's hands as she did squats. Negan caught his eye, but Daryl didn't stop to watch. Zoe was in the room, and Michonne was in the kitchen; it was enough protection for Judith right now.

He jogged to his bedroom. When he passed the bathroom he heard the shower running, and ignored the jealous stab. He shoved his clothes in the chest of drawers a bit too forcefully, then covered himself in knives. 

His belt, his boot, he strapped one to each shin. By the end, he was slightly surprised he wasn't clanking as he walked with the amount of metal on him on his way back down the stairs.

Negan was still there. Judith was lying back, lifting her legs to strengthen her core muscles. Daryl watched them for a moment before joining Michonne in the kitchen as she sipped something from a mug.

"Hey, I thought you were leaving?" Michonne asked.

Daryl shrugged. "Jus' got some'a my clothes."

A bang sounded nearby. "Ow!" Judith shouted.

"Shit, sorry," Negan muttered.

Daryl clenched his jaw. "That reason she swears?" he muttered.

Michonne barked out a laugh. "Daryl, hun,” She reached out to pat his hand. “You are the reason she swears. While I was gone looking for Rick, you were their guardian. RJ has said he learned words with you, and not the ones they learn in school."

Daryl's mouth went dry at the admission. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing to ask, "You left 'em with me?" His voice cracked. Michonne trusted him to bring up two kids when she was gone?

"Of course." Michonne grinned. "Honestly, it was adorable comin' back to see how RJ was tryin' to copy everything you did. You know they both think of you as another dad."

Daryl bit his thumbnail, swallowing back the strange feeling in his chest. "I ain't been around much, last few weeks, huh?"

"They don't blame you for that. RJ understands, Judith is… trying to, but she and Negan are very close."

Daryl glanced back at the living room doorway, and he lowered his voice. "Ya don't find it… weird?"

"At first. But it's not—pedophilic. I’m more jealous of their relationship than anything,” she admitted quietly. “Negan loves her like his own kid."

Daryl's eyes jumped to her sword where it leaned against the wall, and he opened his mouth to ask what she really thought about Negan, did she trust him? Then Judith shouted, "Mom?"

"Sorry." Michonne put her mug in the sink and went to join them. Daryl followed behind and leaned against the wall to watch as Zoe smiled pleasantly at Michonne.

"So, I think this will be our last official physical therapy session," Zoe said. She glanced over Michonne's shoulder at Daryl, then her eyes darted to Negan, frowning. "As I was just explaining to Judith, this doesn't mean she gets to stop her exercises."

"I'll keep doing them," Judith insisted.

"If you stop, I know your parents and Negan will keep you on track. You all know the exercises you need to do, and the swimming. Keep me updated."

“I won’t stop,” Judith muttered. Negan touched her shoulder and murmured something to her that Daryl couldn’t hear. He spotted Daryl watching them and let go of Judith’s shoulder like it burned him.

"Of course. Zoe, thank you for this." Michonne reached out to hug her before Zoe left.

Judith immediately turned back to the exercise equipment behind her and lifted a weight with her left arm.

"Hey, you've been going for an hour," Negan said softly.

"Gotta get stronger. Need to survive out there," Judith muttered.

"Negan's right," Michonne spoke up. "Take a break and we'll go swimming this afternoon. Negan can join us?"

Negan's shoulders tensed, and his eyes darted to Daryl. "I uh—maybe. You two go, and I’ll catch up if I can."

Negan left the Grimes' house, hands shoved deep in his pockets to hide how much they were shaking from Daryl's proximity, his glare so full of hatred that Negan couldn't look at him.

He tried to get through his day without drawing attention to himself, but was relieved to be on his way back to the house for dinner. The town hall would be Daryl’s place, somewhere he could go without worrying about running into Negan.

His stomach rumbled, and he checked his pantry knowing what he’d find. He didn't have much and made a note to get supplies later so he could eat away from everyone. As he looked around he could see some of the weapons were gone, and remembered Daryl telling Michonne he had collected some of his clothes.

It was really over. 

He stared down at the ring on his hand, but couldn't bring himself to take it off, even as Lucille shouted at him that it hadn't taken him long to take it off before. He wished he had managed to find his first wedding band when he went back to the Sanctuary after escaping.

Then everyone was talking. Simon, Arat, Laura, Lucille, Rick, the Croat. They wouldn't stop, he couldn't hear a single person all of them blending into a cacophony of noise that beat at him.

"Shut up!" Negan shouted, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Everything was too loud. He was surrounded, the room too small for so many people. His chest tightened as he felt the walls closing in. With so many people it should be stifling in the summer, yet it was cold. Why was it so cold?

Ghosts were cold, weren't they? Were they really here in ghost form, not in his head?

"GO AWAY!" Negan shouted, throwing one of Coco's toys from the bowl on their table at them. He was both surprised, and not, when it hit the wall behind them.

They were so loud. He needed them to shut up. Clasping his hands over his ears didn't drown out the noise, but the sharp pain as he boxed his own ears in the desperate attempt made them flicker. A thought hit him, sharp and painful, but also with the promise of relief.

He didn't stop to overthink it. Two strides and he was next to the knife block. It was suddenly in his hand, and he ran it across the back of his arm and as the pain spiked through him, the room fell silent.

Negan closed his eyes and breathed slowly, focusing only on the pulsing pain and the warm blood dripping down his arm, pooling on the table. He stood slowly, opened the cupboard where they kept the first aid kit and cleaned the cut. It was too deep, almost needing stitches. Infection was a risk; he should do it shallower next time, on the other side of his arm. 

It would hurt more.

Rick glanced around the group. None of them were happy to be there. All of them hated the meeting they were about to have. But with the way Daryl's memory loss had come to light, there hadn't been a chance for a council meeting. Nobody had fought for one, knowing they'd have to discuss this.

They sat in silence for a moment until Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Rick, a few weeks ago, you put forward Negan to replace Ezekiel's spot. We were waiting for Carol's return for that vote." Carol's eyes widened, turning to Rick, curious. "But with the current Daryl situation, we can't have them both on the council."

"So basically, we need to vote between them," Rick muttered. It made sense why Daryl hadn't asked to take his normal seat on the council all these weeks.

"I vote neither," Carol said after a few minutes. "We were a council of five before you two came back. Which is a good number. Too many cooks and all that."

"You don't think either will be annoyed?" Michonne asked.

"Daryl doesn't even know he was on the council," Rick said, agreeing with Carol. "And even if he did know, he'd understand if we explained why. Without his memories and his feelings towards Negan right now… His vote would be biassed. He doesn’t know the town well enough to mediate arguments either. I did ask Negan while we were out there, but I don't think he even knows how he feels right now."

Rick looked around the table. "I vote neither." He lifted his hand. After a moment, everyone else did too.

"Okay. On the topic of Negan.” It was awkward and hard to bring up the subject, but necessary. “He's concerned after what Daryl thought he was doing with Judith, that the rest of us will think that. Is anyone uncomfortable with him as a teacher, our principal?"

Nobody spoke up, and Rick felt a small weight lift from his shoulders 

"If that's all decided, I have some business," Carol spoke up. Rick gestured for her to go ahead. "It's about where I've been. Rick, Michonne, I've told you a bit about it." They both nodded. "I went North, to see what is up there and ended up in upstate New York. The bridges to Manhattan were blown up at the start. But around New York and New Jersey, there’s a… large Federation, calling themselves New Babylon. They’re militaristic, all about rules and laws, but their marshals are thugs. Drunk on power.”

“Did they hurt you?" Gabriel asked, concerned.

“No. I came across some of them tormenting a family. There are people in the area opposing them, and it all worked out. There’s a place near them called The Bricks. They’re scared of the New Babylon Federation.”

“This Federation a threat to us?” Rick asked, his mind spinning over what communities would fight with them, which could fight and which were more farmers.

“Not right now. They’re far away, and focused on the groups around them. But they could be a threat in the future, especially to our northern trade partners.”

"We should be prepared," Rick said, "Send someone to our northern trade partners, warn them and ask if they've heard anything. To ask them to report back to us if they do."

Everyone nodded their agreement and Rick wanted to bang his head onto the table. It never fucked ended. One fight to the next. Goddamnit.

That night Negan laid in bed and tried to sleep. He couldn’t be in their his the old room, but he had made a small concession to try and sleep, wrapping the pillow in one of Daryl’s old shirts. It was the only thing that allowed him to sleep at all over the last week, although the scent was beginning to fade. He rolled over again, shifting his injured arm, focusing on the sharp pain and keeping the room quiet.

But he couldn’t sleep; it had been hours.

Negan sighed and got up. He could at least be productive, there was some math homework to grade and it would keep him distracted.

He left the house, breathing the cool night air, and walked slowly enjoying the empty streets. Four years ago he had gone for a nighttime walk, only to end up with a large amount of the town watching him from their houses, the walls, or following him. Now, he was left alone, accepted.

But how much longer would they trust him?

How many people would start to see how he was with Judith or start to question his relationship with the orphans? It was innocent, but Daryl misread it. Who else might?

How long until he lost the friendships he had worked hard to establish? Would old wounds open back up? Would he even notice before they jumped him again? Should he just leave now before it happened? 

Where would he go? Would Judith and RJ ever forgive him for abandoning them?

Negan tried to push the thoughts away as he walked into his office and settled at his desk to be useful. He had redesigned the math class with questions that fit scenarios the kids might actually encounter. All of the teachers found that students paid more attention when they realized it was actually useful knowledge that would matter in this world.

Herd A is traveling at 3mph North. Herd B is traveling at 3mph East. They will both cross paths at Woodbridge. Herd B is 24 miles from Woodbridge. How close would Herd A need to be to Woodbridge to merge with Herd B?

He was glancing over Blake’s homework with just a small oil lamp to save on electricity. It was summer, and the longer days helped the batteries stay full, but they were all careful about power use just in case. They all knew what life was like when they had to live in darkness.  His eyes started to get heavy and finally drifted closed. He didn’t fight it, leaning back and relaxing, needing the rest.

Living beyond the walls at any point made for light sleepers. Negan still had the habit, along with everyone over the age of fifteen. It was only behind the walls in Alexandria, safe with his husband beside him, that he allowed himself to sleep deeply. 

A small squeak had Negan wide awake, hand finding the letter opener on his desk as he blinked blearily at a beam of light.  He blinked and managed to focus on Daryl standing in the doorway, eyes wide and chest heaving as though he had been running.

For a second, Negan thought Daryl remembered. That he had come running to find him.

“Daryl?”

Then he saw the shock and fear shoot across Daryl’s face and knew he was wrong. Daryl still didn’t remember. There was only one reason he’d be here. Negan rubbed his eyes and opened the drawer, sliding the letter across the desk.

"Brooke is from Clover Field,” Negan explained, fighting to keep his voice carefully blank. The letter meant a lot to him, and there was a chance Daryl wouldn’t give it back. But he’d set it on fire himself if it meant Daryl didn’t look at him like a monster. “One of the communities we trade with. She was part of Sanctuary before that, and agreed to trade with us–Alexandria–after she found out I was out of jail. Has uh—Rick, or anyone, told you about that?"

Daryl nodded sharply. His eyes darted down to the letter then back to Negan.

Negan knew then he wouldn’t take it. Daryl wouldn’t get that close to him unless he was making a point. Right now taking it in front of him was like admitting a weakness. His husband hated appearing weak, especially in front of people he viewed as the enemy.

Instead, Daryl backed away and closed the door again. Even with just the two steps he took, Negan could see he was limping heavily, his feet would be dry and cracking by now.

Negan pressed a hand against the wound in his arm, breathing slowly.

God fucking dammit.

Daryl wanted to punch something. He wanted to scream. He wanted to leave Alexandria and never come back.

But most of all, he wanted Negan in front of him again, telling him it would be okay, and he hated himself for it.

Was that a test? Did he pass or fail? Was it even the real letter? Negan could have replaced it, though he didn’t know how far Daryl had read. A play to see what Daryl would do? Manipulation of some kind? 

Everything Negan did was manipulation, a power play.

Daryl wondered if he ever won any of them, but knew Negan would always stack the deck.

He was nearly at the Grimes house when he saw Carol on top of the wall. Daryl climbed up the ladder, Carol glanced back and smiled at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Daryl settled beside her and Carol pressed her shoulder into his, neither of them needing to speak for Carol to understand what Daryl needed. She had lost someone important to her too, although Daryl didn’t remember Ezekiel; he could see the pain it caused her.

“You okay?” Carol asked after a while.

“Gotta be. You?”

“Gotta be.” She leaned into his side and Daryl wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to focus on her smaller weight and flower and gunpowder scent, as opposed to the scent of leather and library books.

Chapter Text

“Off the council?” Sonya stage whispered, shocked with the news her husband brought her. They both relaxed their old bones in the orchard, hiding from the summer sun, but others were around doing the same.

“The council just met, and Daryl wasn’t there but definitely was in town. He hasn’t been on the last few either.” Ryan shrugged, but she knew he loved gossip just as much as she did. Together for the last thirty years, they were fortunate to have settled in such a caring community that let them participate the best they could.

“That doesn’t mean he’s off the council entirely.” Sonya snorted, irritated that he had made such a claim without something more substantial.

“So you don’t wanna hear about the batteries and the other inconsistencies?” He moved like he was gonna get up and she dragged him back down.

“Bury the lead why don’t you!” She snapped and drew a couple of looks. Sonya dropped her volume a little and hissed at him. “Tell me everything.”

“The way I figure it? Negan was skimming off of the trades with the communities that had his people in it. Taking it like tribute. While he was gone it came out and now Daryl had to recuse himself from the council.” Ryan would know about that, part of what he did when his arthritis wasn’t too bad was check inventory logs.

Sonya frowned neither of them really understood who Negan was before they came to Alexandria, years after he was in jail, but they both heard the stories. 

“I don’t know if I could picture Negan doing that. He always seems to be making sure people have enough.” Sonya tried to picture it, but instead another memory came up. “Remember when I had that stomach bug and wasn’t that interested in food? Negan made me that banana bread with some kinda protein powder mixed in.”

“He can be generous, because he has his own stockpile,” Ryan insisted.

“Do you think Daryl really didn’t know? Or do you think the reason he was always beyond the walls was because he was trying to make up for what Negan was taking?” Sonya just couldn’t picture either of them doing anything to hurt the community.

“Or getting them more things,” Ryan’s eyes sparkled. Even though he tended to be the more pessimistic of them he loved to stir the pot.

“Well I’m glad the council’s getting to the bottom of it.”

Daryl stared at the bathroom door, he needed a fucking shower. He'd been out hunting and slipped down a hill into muck and slime; a noxious concoction he didn’t want to think too much about.

In the week since he’d been home, he’d only seen Negan a couple of times. The most memorable being in his office. Daryl was trying to watch him, waiting for Negan to slip up, but all he saw was a man in pain and barely getting through the day.

It hurt to watch.

Like some part of Daryl cared.

He needed to get out again, breathe fresh air and not be constantly looking for Negan. But now he regretted it, the faces the guards had made when he emerged from the darkness meant he had to do something about the smell.

It was just a shower. He had waited until the middle of the night to come back and beelined it straight for the Grimes’. Hoping since it was so late, he could leave the door open, but he couldn't go in.

The bathroom back at the house with Negan came to mind again.

The only time he struggled there was after Negan blew him. Was it the bathroom that freaked him out, or what Negan did?

Dog huffed at him, and Daryl ran a hand along Dog’s back. Dog had opted to start the night with him ever since he’s been staying at the Grimes’. He followed Daryl to the kitchen every night when Daryl woke from various nightmares. Most nights Rick joined him, then Dog would go find Judith like he was changing guards. Even the dog thought he needed to be watched.

Daryl had been surprised to find out he was his dog originally, not Judith's. Just that since her injuries, Dog had barely left her side. 

Since Negan had apparently saved her life. Though she was unconscious, by her own admission, for a lot of it. Daryl wasn't sure they could believe everything Negan said happened, but everyone seemed to take the story at face value, so Daryl went along with it for now. When he carefully questioned Judith about it she’d gotten angry and defensive quickly, reminding him too strongly of when concerned teachers asked him about the bruises he couldn’t hide. He’d dropped it without getting more information and he couldn’t help feeling like he was losing his Asskicker.

Dog nudged his nose into Daryl's hand when he stopped petting him, encouraging him to either pet him or get on with it.

"Go on, boy. Go to Jude. Imma be here a while."

He considered a garden hose again, or just going to the pond. He’d gotten most of the gunk off in a river nearby, but it hadn’t been enough to stop the guards from noticing a smell when he came back. He could just take some actual soap and bathe more thoroughly outside.

But he wasn't a fucking animal.

Daryl surged forward, he barely kept from slamming the door behind him. He didn’t want to wake the whole house. His momentum carried him into the shower.

He showered as quickly as he could, his heart pounding. As he stood in the tub, his feet were in agony, worse than they had been even since he woke up. Anytime he even thought about asking someone to help him with his feet, there was a bone deep terror that kept him from saying anything. His ankles would ache like someone was holding him in a punishing grip and his knees would tingle with the urge to kick, run, escape. He attempted to rub them himself with the moisturizer he had taken from the house, but it wasn't as good as Negan's nimble fingers massaging away every ache and pain. Daryl couldn't do his own back as much as he tried, and he wasn't going to ask anyone else to.

As soon as he was clean enough, he rushed back to his bedroom as quietly as possible, even as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

He dropped onto his bed, exhaustion pulling him down into sleep.

Daryl laid shivering on the cold tiled bathroom floor, wind breezed through the broken window. His head was aching, exhaustion trying to take him back under. The urge to drink water swamped him, blood loss making it feel urgent to the point it almost convinced him to move off the floor.

Blood pooled around him, slowly oozing out from his back. He leaned back against a towel, but the position was too awkward and hurt like hell to lean into it. His right arm was swollen and throbbed, so he used his left arm to reach back to shift the towel, but had to bite back a shout of pain as his ribs screamed at him for the movement.

He lowered his arm and dropped down to lie on his left side. Gasping as the movement pulled at bruises that covered his torso. Daryl bit his lip hard enough to draw blood; he couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t risk drawing attention and bringing him back upstairs.

His stomach pulsed with a tight pain, and bruises were forming on his entire back and side.

He laid down on the ground, bringing his knees to his chest, the cold floor worked to numb his side. He tried to shift to get more comfortable, but his ribs were definitely fractured, if not broken. It wouldn't be the first time so he knew how it felt. He needed to wrap them up, but he needed to stop the bleeding first.

The bloodied towel lay at the edge of his vision, leaving Daryl wondering if it was worth it.

If he stayed here, would he bleed out? Maybe if he didn’t succumb to his injuries and the cold first.

He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. He was just too tired to fight anymore.

CPS had arrived at the worst possible moment, just as he screamed from a particularly brutal blow as Dad hit him over and over again. It wasn't his fault that he went to school with a black eye and bruises on his arms, or that a teacher noticed when he grabbed a pencil from the floor.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

He was fine. A few more years and he'd follow Merle into the military. Get the fuck out of here.

He never left. Carol would never find him.

The door swung open, and Daryl blinked up at his dad with a long, thin scar across his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Daryl whispered again.

Daryl woke with a jolt, his heart pounding. He couldn't breathe. He was going to suffocate. When he died he would turn and bite someone. The kids were under the same roof, he would hurt the kids.

He stumbled out of bed and practically fell down the stairs, crashing out of the house and running to the back of the townhouses. He needed to get away, he needed to get to the gate, get outside the town.

But they were there, people surrounding him, a man with a scar, laughing at him. A larger man wearing his leather vest.

He tried to fight. He fell to the ground and curled into himself.

Negan rolled over, hand reaching out and falling on an empty space.

He woke with a jolt, but everything came flooding back to him. His head felt heavy, exhaustion swamping him even though he just woke up. He dropped back on his pillow, breathing in the fading scent of Daryl.

Daryl had taken a lot of his clothes, but not the unwashed ones. Negan still had a few left, knowing eventually he'd run out. He wondered if he'd be able to take some from Rick's house.

Was it already creepy? An invasion of privacy for Daryl.

It was the only way he slept, and if he didn’t sleep the ghosts were so much worse.

He opened his eyes and jumped at Lucille standing so close to him.

"Didn't even try to remember the smell of me. Burned everything."

Negan pressed his hand into the cut on the back of his wrist, but it barely hurt anymore. It did nothing, Lucille didn’t even flicker. He ignored how that would have been enough a year ago, his pain tolerance going up and making it harder to banish the ghosts.

“You think that you’ll get away that easily? Running from me is what made you a monster.”

He sighed and sat up on the spare room bed. The room was full of his ghosts. Why were they all always here? It was so goddamn loud, shouting at him. The Croat and Simon were arguing. Lucille was shouting at him, Arat and Laura were telling him what they thought he should do. Frankie was crying, wringing her hands.

Because he raped them.

He got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, the curtain closed so he didn't have to see their his the room.

“Remember when you blew him in the shower? How panicked he looked. Did it make it hotter for you?”

“I am good at the mind games, Buraz, but you are the master. Making him feel dirty even as you made him clean. Rubbing your filth into him, marking his skin as yours.”

Negan yelled and threw the soap at the Croat's head, it sailed through the curtain and he heard it hit the wall on the other side. "They're not fucking real!" Negan shouted at himself. He considered leaving it, but he needed the soap. It wasn't easy to make, he couldn't leave it there.

Negan sighed and climbed out of the tub and pushed past the curtain. The bedroom was just as he left it, the bed unmade from that morning before they went hunting. He had dumped the bag on top to deal with in the future. But now, the butt plug was left beside it and some of Daryl's drawers were left open. The empty spots where his clothes used to be mocking Negan.

“Gotta say, Boss, makin’ him wear it all day. That’s some grade A fucked up shit. Every time he moved he thought about you fuckin’ him. A reminder of his place as your whore.”

Negan tried hard not to look at the plug and glanced around for the soap. It sounded like it hit something, and there was a small stain on the wall. Negan sighed and moved Daryl's nightstand, and found the soap on the floor. He picked it up and turned.

He froze.

There was a knife taped to the back of the nightstand. The Croat stood and looked down at it.

“Perhaps he is worthy of you, to be so close to killing you.”

Negan stumbled back, falling onto the bed. How long had that been there?

It was one of their kitchen knives. Negan had noticed they had one less after Daryl came back but figured it got mixed in with the weapons he took to Rick's.

Daryl had brought it up here. He was ready to use it, to defend himself this whole time, but never did.

His stomach rolled.

Did he bring it up before they had sex?

Before Negan raped him.

Because he was terrified of being raped?

Why didn't he use it?

I'll be your whore.

With shaking hands, Negan unpeeled the knife from the nightstand.

“I wish I had thought of that.” Frankie sounded so sad. “Maybe after I got you relaxed, after you fucked me, Cat, and Brittney together that time. You slept like a rock. Could have slit your throat then and saved everyone so much pain.”

“My mother would have died,” Amber commented. “There were times I thought it might be okay, that she would forgive me if I stopped being your wife so I could be free.”

“At least you had good reasons to stay,” Lucille groused. “I was just fuckin’ stupid. I thought he loved me or something. Obviously not with how quickly he replaced me, fucked my best friend while I was still alive. Abandoned me to learn that I was dying alone while he got off. But that doesn’t mean anything anymore, he feels so much deeper about Daryl.” The pain in her voice at the end hurt Negan in a way that their rage couldn’t reach.

He sliced the knife along his arm. Everything fell quiet; it was so quiet his ears rang from such a sudden change in volume. He sat on the bed, watching the blood drip onto the floor, numb to the pain.

He couldn't stay here.

Soap forgotten, Negan dressed as quickly as he could, wrapping his arm.

As soon as he was dressed, Negan grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. The summer heat was brutal, even late at night, and the school wasn’t close. The sun hadn't risen yet, but he could get prepared for the day, maybe make up a pop quiz just to have papers to grade tomorrow night. The students were going to hate him eventually anyway, maybe all the tests would make it easier for him to pretend why.

Any excuse to not be in that house.

As he rounded the corner that approached the townhouses movement caught his eye.

Daryl was at the back of the houses in the grass, pressed against the wall. His knees pulled to his chest, shaking his head rapidly. Lost in a flashback and panic.

Shit.

Negan looked around, but they were the only two people awake not on guard duty.

He waited, but Daryl’s panic wasn't ebbing.

It hurt seeing him in pain and Negan finally couldn’t take it. Approaching carefully and talking lowly, he hoped his voice would help Daryl's subconscious at least.

He placed the bottle of water he was carrying beside Daryl and then backed away, staying out of Daryl’s sight line so maybe he could forget who was talking to him.

“You're okay, Darl— Daryl. Just a panic attack. I don't know if you've had one since, but you get them sometimes. You'll be okay in a minute, you're safe, inside Alexandria's walls. Just listen to my voice, that used to help you. There’s a breeze. You’re not there. Your family knows where you are. There’s a bottle of water next to you, and you're sitting on grass. The watermelons should be ready soon, but they’re currently doing zucchini bread in the kitchens cause those buggers are still everywhere.”

He saw the moment Daryl started to calm down, and his eyes focused on him.

"You back?" Negan asked.

Daryl's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

"Okay." Negan stood up and started to walk away, surprised when Daryl spoke.

"Why bathrooms?"

Negan paused, at least part of Daryl's subconscious must remember then. Did it remember how he used to feel about Negan? Was that better or worse? If he still had feelings for Negan it must feel like his mind was turning against him and Daryl wouldn’t understand why. Like with the bathrooms.

He turned and leaned against the railing. "When you were with the hotel group, they kept you in a bathroom. Tiny one. You couldn't stretch your legs except for in the old moldy bathtub. It's why ours is open like that.” He remembered the look Daryl had shot him the morning before the hunt, the first time he’d actually had to use the bathroom in front of Negan. His stomach twisted at the implication and needed Daryl to know. “It-it’s not a sex thing."

When Daryl didn't reply, Negan pushed himself off the railing and said softly, "I should have realized… sorry. I'll move somewhere else, and you can move back in, if you want. Then you don't need to worry."

He didn't want to admit to himself that he was leaping at the idea of moving out for Daryl. He couldn't do it for himself but if it would help Daryl, he could pretend it wasn’t selfish.

Negan could go anywhere else.

He walked away; he needed to give Daryl space and return to being helpful. Daryl’s eyes on his back felt dangerous, but he refused to dwell on why.

Daryl watched Negan go, his breathing coming easier, thinking once again of a warm blanket on a cold night.

Negan stopped suddenly and glanced back at him. "When you're uh— your feet, use a sideways motion, not circular." He showed him with his thumbs. "Circular or up and down pull at the tears."

He kept going, and Daryl waited until he was out of sight before relaxing against the wall behind him.

Daryl stayed out for a while longer before stumbling back to his bedroom. It didn’t feel like a concession when he grabbed the moisturizer and rubbed it into his feet the way Negan had told him. The pain made him less useful; he could pretend it wasn’t selfish. The way he did it still wasn't as good, but it was better.

Negan considered Rosita’s house, but she had enough going on with two kids, a disabled partner, Eugene living in the house. They didn’t have the space for him.

He could go to one of the empty houses, but that was just using more electricity than necessary and the selfish part of him didn’t want to be alone. He hesitated and then finally knocked on the door.

Cat answered after a moment. “Hey, Stranger.” She eyed the duffle bag he held, eyes knowing. Negan didn’t think she could tell that under his clothes hidden in the bottom, with a clean towel to try and keep them separate, were a few of Daryl's. 

He had cleared out the bag they took hunting and cleaned the butt plug, his hands shaking the entire time. With his task done he realized he hadn’t known what to do with it and ended up putting it back in the drawer with the rest of the sex stuff for Daryl to burn or destroy when he was ready. He had pushed the nightstand back into place too. Daryl didn’t need to know he found it unless he went looking.

“I uh… can I stay here, for a bit?”

“Of course. Spare room or our room?” She grinned, but it faded at his inability to smile back. “Spare room. Okay.”

The house was a similar layout to his house, as it was just two of them, they were given one of the smaller houses. Brittney was in the kitchen, cleaning and she smiled at him. “Hey, Negan.”

“Hi.”

She dropped the cloth she was using and rushed to him to hug him and lead him to the couch. “Barely seen you the last few weeks, and Daryl’s been gone. What’s going on, Baby?” She held his hand, pulling it onto her lap. “We’ve heard the rumours, but–”

Should he be here? Did he rape them?

Should he ask, and bring up the pain? The words escaped before he could second-guess them. “Back at the Sanctuary,” he choked out, “Every time we… had sex, all of you... Was there any time someone wanted to say no?”

“No,” Cat answered quickly, but he saw Brittany’s eyes flash.

"Britt? You wanted it too,” Cat prompted.

"Yes!" But he could hear the lie, and as devastation sprang across his face, Brittney squeezed the hand she still held. "Amber asked once if any of us ever said no."

Cat sat on the couch on Brittney’s other side. “Britt–”

"He needs to know, Cat. After she asked, most of us said we hadn't, or if we had you stopped. But she admitted she didn't want to have sex as often as you did. That she was glad when you wanted another one of us instead. We told her to tell you. You were giving Sherry the same privileges and hadn’t slept with her. But then everything with Mark and the Alexandrian’s happened and–”

His stomach dropped. Amber had come to his room that night after Mark, insisting she just wanted to get things back to normal, she had sucked him off and ridden him. She felt like she had to. He had suspected, but she smiled, she seemed okay.

He raped her.

How many times?

Frankie told the Alexandrians he had, he thought it was just to survive and fit in, but was that true too?

“Where’s this coming from?” Cat asked, moving to sit on Negan’s other side. “What’s happened with Daryl?”

He didn’t want to tell them, but they knew him, they knew the best and worst of him. “He doesn’t remember,” he choked out. “The last few months, we’ve been together, but he doesn’t remember. He thinks he had to be with me to protect everyone.”

“Oh shit.” Brittney gathered him into his arms. “You didn’t know. You didn’t know.” Negan pressed his head into her chest and then pulled back. Did she think he was trying to do something? Press for sex?

“I– I’m gonna go to bed. On my own,” he added quickly. Just in case they got the wrong idea. “Unless… I don’t have to stay here.”

“Yes, you do,” Cat insisted. “You are staying here as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” he whispered and grabbed his duffle, rushing up the stairs.

His own weakness brought him here. He wanted to enjoy what little friendship he could, until it was gone. The weight of Daryl’s accusation about Judith pressed at him, but he couldn’t tell them. Amber had been young. An adult, but twenty-three was still too young for him. He had known that then, but it seemed harmless in the end. A way to help someone who needed it, she should have told him no. He wished she had told him no.

“Sure blame me,” Amber hissed in his ear. Negan flinched, even though he couldn’t see anyone.

He was a monster.

The same day Daryl had the conversation with Negan, he watched him carrying a duffel bag into Cat and Brittney’s house. As far as Daryl knew, Negan hadn’t touched them since he’d been there. He shouldn’t let this happen.

Over dinner, he overheard Rick speaking to the two women to ask about Negan and they promised Rick they’ll look after him.

Goddamnit. They were adults. They had to know that no one expected them to sleep with Negan. Right? Were they just another group of people who’d been brainwashed by him? How could Daryl protect anyone if everyone thought it was okay, if Negan made them think they liked it? 

He had liked it.

Daryl stared at his food and tried not to shake, pushing the thoughts down. He didn’t have proof, and one good thing came out of this. It left their house open. With the open bathroom where Daryl could pee and shower without feeling like he was going to die the second he was through the door, but he couldn't bring himself to move in immediately. It was admitting a weakness, even though Negan knew about this one.

How many weak spots did Negan know about? Weak spots that even Daryl didn’t know existed.

He didn't move in right away; he could handle a few more days. But the idea of going into the bathroom weighed on him and he decided to head out on another hunting trip, ignoring the concerned looks around him. He knew he was going out too often, people were noticing. Carol had commented more than once when he did come home for dinner.

Daryl let himself into the Grimes house a few days later and found it full. Rosita, Eugene, and Carol with Rick and Michonne all standing around in the living room.

"— have the parts we need. We can get down there in a day, be back two days early morning,” Eugene said.

"Can we wait that long?" Rick asked.

"We have a manual pump," Rosita said, glancing over at Daryl and waving. "I can use that for now. It's what they used to use. We’d be only using it if we didn't have electricity, but it's not as strong or as good."

"Okay. We'll leave at first light," Rick decided. "We might have to stay there or camp one night, then come back. Four man team.” He tilted his head, eyes darting to Daryl before saying, “Negan needs to be on it.”

"Where?" Daryl asked, perching on the arm of the couch.

"Fort Belvoir," Rick answered. "Rosita's breast pump isn't working. Eugene radioed around and Fort Belvoir has the parts we need. It's a militaristic community. If we send too big a group, they'll see it as a threat."

“Why does he gotta go?” He hoped he didn’t sound as jealous as it felt. Why did Rick want him at his side all the time?

“He’s been there a few times. Once with you and then with me when we were lookin' for you. He’s good with those sorts of groups. I’ll go too.”

“I need to be part of your party. To ensure the goods are copacetic,” Eugene said. At everyone's look, he cleared his throat and said, "to test them."

"I can go," Michonne offered. Carol hummed her agreement.

"They see women as weak," Rick added quickly. Both women narrowed their eyes. "I know, you are both badass, but I’d rather get in and out without a fight if we can help it.”

"Jerry?" Rosita suggested.

"His kids are sick," Rick said. "He won't want to leave Nabila unless he has to. What about Mark? They'll respect the burn. Scars are a mark of pride for them."

"I can go," Daryl offered, offended they hadn't asked him immediately.

Rick winced and shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea with Negan.”

Daryl worked to keep his face neutral; this would be a perfect opportunity to see what the town was like without Negan in it. But he also needed to help, to be useful, and the chance to get further out of Alexandria was too good.

"I can go," Daryl repeated.

Rick still hesitated. "We cannot risk not getting these parts if you can't work with Negan."

"Wouldn't say I can go if I can't," Daryl spat, struggling to rein in his frustration. Rick should know him better.

“Let me go speak to Negan.”

Daryl clenched his fist. Why did he need permission from Negan to leave?

"I'll speak to Marjan to get four horses tacked for the morning," Rosita offered. She paused and looked at Daryl. "Would you still ride Peach?"

Daryl shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay."

"Chief for me," Rick said. At Rosita's frown, he shrugged. "What? We bonded."

Daryl wasn’t surprised when sleep completely eluded him. To him, the last time they visited another community was the Hilltop, that’s when everything went to shit.

He sighed and got up, a smile coming to his face at the small light in the kitchen. He walked in to see two glasses of water on the island, Rick nursing one of them. Rick smiled back at him. “Thought you’d be up soon.”

Daryl shrugged and took his usual seat. “Should try to get more sleep, ain’t been out that far yet.”

“Where did you go?” Rick asked. “When you left for that week?”

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail and shrugged. “Had to see the Sanctuary. The clearin’. Jus’ hunted. Thanks for the clothes ‘n shit, never said.”

Rick frowned. “The what?”

“The bag you left… Carol might’a left it,” Daryl murmured as his stomach clenched, Negan. Of course it was.

“Maybe?” Rick didn’t sound convinced.

“Don’t matter.” Daryl sipped his water. “I uh– this Fort we’re goin’ to. Can you tell me much ‘bout ‘em?”

“Ah. Yeah. They uh, they’re militaristic to the extreme. Like they read every macho militia book and then modelled themselves after Sparta on top of it. They only respect strength and don’t see women as strong. They have some women there, but they’re not fighters. They clean, cook. Y’know.”

Daryl hummed. “Are they… hurt?”

“I don’t think so. Most of them prefer it, like–” Rick winced.

“Like what?”

Rick sighed. “Negan’s wives.” Daryl narrowed his eyes. “They chose to be there. Negan didn’t force them into anything; he presented an image, but behind closed doors, they were different. Have you met Cat and Brittney? They were his wives.”

“Seen ‘em. They said that?”

“Yeah. Frankie told us something different after the war, and I know that weighs on Negan. But Cat and Brittney love him. They insisted none of them were forced into that position by Negan.”

“You didn’t see ‘em, man.”

“No. But I’ve talked to them and to Negan.” Rick shook his head. “It’s harder to know the truth over at the Fort. Until we’ve got a reason to think they’re hurting the women there, we can’t start another war. We’ve got more allies now, but not a lot of fighters. Few of them are borderline helpless against people.”

“You ‘n Negan were there before?”

Rick nodded. “We didn’t stay long, we went to ask for information about you and left. We don’t trust them with where we are yet and they keep tryin’ tail the trade caravans back. Makes us nervous.”

Us. Daryl wondered if Rick meant him and Negan, or the council. “How’d you know where they are?”

“Lydia, the Whisperers, knew where they were. Had a brief run in, a while ago. We sent a group, including you and Negan, to meet them. Negan got us the trade deal. He and our deal with the Whisperers, they freak out the Fort guys.”

“They freak me out, walkin’ around in fuckin’ walker masks, it’s insane.”

Rick hummed. “I’m glad I never had to deal with them. But since we’ve made the deal with them, we see… ninety percent less walkers.” Rick finished his glass and said, “You looked like you were gonna hit me when I asked earlier, but I need to know if you can travel with Negan.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes.

“I know,” Rick said quickly. “But I also get why you might struggle. I need you two to work together. We gotta be a united front with the Fort guys, they see weakness and they’ll pounce.”

“I can, Rick. I ain’t gonna run away scared of him,” Daryl assured him, his voice cracking at the thought of Rick thinking he was weak.