"Lies require commitment." Veronica Roth
"Okay, you're coming with me, you sexy motherfucker!"
The tomatoes didn't stand a chance.
Negan's fingers snaked their way through the leaves, plucking the ripest ones off the vines.
"Now that's how you fucking garden!" he proclaimed gleefully to some of the other farmers near him.
They just looked at him, wordless, unphased by his antics.
"Everyone's a fucking critic," he muttered to himself.
It was weird, being surrounded by the people he used to rule over. A king, now subjected to collecting his own dinner. But he had to say, as the warm sun beat down on him, he really didn't mind it one bit. It sure as shit beat a cell. He grinned at this newfound freedom.
One of the farmers near him suddenly gasped, looking up, their eyes on Alexandria's gates.
Negan followed the woman's eyes.
The carriage that had left earlier that morning had returned, along with its crew, but something was off. Nobody was smiling. A forlorn mood blanketed the people returning home.
Negan watched some of the other Alexandrians approach the horse drawn wagon, and watched Daryl and Michonne quietly talk amongst the small group.
Then he noticed the huddled figure in the back of the wagon slowly stumble down and out from the wooden box.
Whoever the sorry sap is, they look like a fucking kebob, charred to a motherfucking crisp, he thought.
The person limped past the others, seemingly unaffected by the noise around them.
He looked on, fist full of tomatoes, as Daryl turned his attention to the figure silently shambling towards him. The hunter slowly reached down, before scooping them up into his arms and carrying them towards the infirmary.
"Holy shit," one of the farmers whispered.
"Is that... Ellen?" another said as they spoke amongst themselves.
Negan blinked when he heard the woman's name escape the Alexandrian's lips in hushed voices and the tomatoes he'd been carrying dropped from his hands as he worked himself to his feet.
Negan watched them go, before he cautiously approached the others. "What in God's fucking left testicle happened here?"
Michonne looked at him, a deep frown on her face. "It's them. The Whisperers. They're back."
---
Ellen rested in a bed while Siddiq oversaw her healing. The woman let out a sigh, her eyes drifting to the window.
Her body and throat were sore, aching and singed, and her chest hurt as she drew in deep, raspy breaths. It had been a day since the Fort had fallen, and once she'd arrived safely in Alexandria, she'd spent the remainder of that time sleeping. When she'd wake, she'd take note of her surroundings and come to the painful realization that it had all been real.
A slight knock on the door alerted Ellen of a visitor, and the woman craned her neck towards the noise.
Carol approached her, a folded black fabric draped over her arms. The woman offered her a small smile, before laying the coat across the back of a chair. She approached Ellen, and Ellen immediately noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, just threatening to spill over.
YOU ARE READING
Outcast (A TWD Fanfiction)
Horror(DarylxOCxNegan) A medium prior to the apocalypse, aggressive outsider Eleanor has always had an abnormal connection with the dead. But in this new world, Ellen is forced to rely on her survival skills and nerve to withstand another monster entirely...
