Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Heavy Games

"When we can't help what we become we become the only one, but when we go we leave no one."

I woke up in the middle of the night. The pain is what woke me up, I think. The light of the moon flowed through the large window. Glancing around the room, I noticed the door that led to Negan's office was open a crack. Pushing the pain in my body aside, I pulled myself out of bed to go and peek into the other room.

The door opened slowly as I peered my head through to widening space. I found Negan on the couch in there, his feet propped up on one arm of the furniture while his head rested against the other. He moved his feet to the side to look over them, finding my small figure looking back.

"The hell are you doing up?" he asked. Again, it wasn't rude. It was just the way Negan spoke. I was slowly becoming used to it.

"I could ask you the same question," I countered, stepping my whole body into the doorway. Negan huffed at my response. "But my body hurts." 

"Your painkillers have probably worn off. I can go get some more."

Negan lifted himself, now sitting on the couch. I stopped him before he could stand, telling him not to worry about it. I could take the pain. Plus, I didn't want to take from their supplies. Although, I should, considering the amount of things they've taken from us. Pushing the thought aside, I went to go sit at his desk.

Negan relaxed back into the couch, propping his legs now on the coffee table in front of it. I rested one foot on the chair I was sitting on, loosely holding my hands around my ankle. We were quiet for a moment, just allowing the two of us to further accustom ourselves to the situation at hand.

"Thank you for taking care of me," I said quietly. "I know it'll have its repercussions for both our groups."

"It was the right thing to do," Negan replied nonchalantly.

"What...uh, what happened to the guys that did this to me?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Gave them the same treatment. Only difference is you get the painkillers."

To be honest, it seemed like a fair punishment. Nothing near as severe as Dwight's. I wondered what he did that caused that outcome.

We went back to our silence. I hated feeling comfortable here. Why do I feel like I can talk to Negan like he's a friend? He killed Glenn and Abraham. He kidnapped Daryl. He asked me to be his wife. He's stolen from us and used us. What exactly is it that I see in him?

"You always look that pissed off when you're thinkin'?" Negan asked, breaking our silence. I lifted my gaze to meet his. He had an inquisitive expression on his face, his hands laced at his stomach as he rocked his bent knee side to side.

"I don't understand what I see in you," I muttered quietly. "After everything you've done, I shouldn't feel comfortable being here with you. And yet, here we are, shooting the shit in the middle of the night because we can't sleep."

Neither of us said anything for a moment. It was odd for Negan to not quip back at every little sentence. He's been like that since his men beat me up and he's been taking care of me.

"I don't know what it is. Maybe I see myself in you. Maybe I see my father. Maybe it's because I see someone worth saving."

"Who said I had to be saved?" he asked.

"Oh, please. Look at yourself. You're no saint," I joked. Negan found it amusing.  

Again, Negan huffed. A simple smile tugged at his lips, showing off his ever-so-pearly teeth. I couldn't seem to help the small lift at the corners of my own mouth.

Glancing around the room once more, I spotted a small camcorder sitting atop one of the bookshelves. I went over to go and grab it.

"Doll, I wouldn't look on there if I were you," Negan warned. Although, he didn't really sound playful anymore.

"What? You got some freaky shit on here?" I joked.

"Doll, I fucking mean it." Negan was not sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Ignoring his comments, I opened the side piece of the camcorder. The first thing I was met with was Rick. He was dirty, beard thick, and stained with old remnants of walkers. 

This was Deanna's.

I pressed play, listening to Rick's responses to Deanna's questions from when we first made it to Alexandria. The room was eerily silent. Negan made no move to take the camera from me nor stop what I was doing. 

I went to the next video. Carl was looking right at the camera for a moment before focusing on Deanna off-screen. I lightly touched my fingertips to my eye socket. I nearly forgot what he looked like without his eyepatch. My sweet little baby boy.

"Do you like the people in your group? You all get along?" Deanna asked him.

"Yeah, everyone's great. Belle, especially. I met her in the beginning. She's always taken care of me. Even though her and my mom never got along, I know I can always count on her. She's basically helped raise me since my mom died."

I couldn't help but be left in shock at the kind things he said. I knew he cared for me, but just hearing those words come from his mouth hit me. 

I continued looking through the videos, listening to the responses of my friends. We've all changed so much. We've grown accustomed to community life. We don't look as beaten anymore. 

"I keep hearing about Belle. Who is she to you?" Deanna asked Daryl in his interview.

"She's everything to me. 'Been with me all my life."

I wasn't at all prepared for the next video. I pressed the arrow key and felt the air get knocked out of my chest. It was Glenn's interview.

"What's something that motivates you to keep going?" Deanna asked him during their discussion.

Glenn smiled. God, I missed him.

"It sounds a little silly but before this, I used to deliver pizzas. One night, Belle and I were just chatting and she said, "When this shit show of a world goes back to normal I better get some free pizza." And... I don't know. Just the hope of having that to look forward to keeps me going. I mean, I never knew her before this and now she's one of my closest friends. People come together in strange ways. I couldn't imagine a life without her as my friend. That night really solidified it for me."

A teardrop fell onto the small screen. I blinked a few times before closing the side piece. I slowly lifted my gaze back to look at Negan. Tears silently fell down my cheeks and into my lap. The look on Negan's face, too, was something I wasn't used to. He warned me about the camera. Why? Why didn't he want me to see it? Why did he take it in the first place?

Something about watching these videos snapped me back to reality about my situation. This man, the one sitting across the room from me, murdered people I loved. He viciously killed them. I almost forgot what Glenn's face looked like. The last memories of him were gory, horrendous, and cruel.

"This is how you found out I tried to kill myself, isn't it?" I quietly and slowly questioned. 

"Yeah," he huffed out.

"And you tried to use that to manipulate me."

With a heavy head, he nodded.

"Yeah," he breathed out again.

I gently placed the camcorder on his desk, slowly standing up from the chair. I silently made my way back into the bedroom. I just had to get through the rest of this night and then I could go home. I can't continue trying to work with Negan. He's our enemy. That's what it comes down to.

I paused, leaning against the doorframe. Negan made no efforts to move from his seat, nor did he say anything. I kept my back to him, not being able to face him head-on. Instead, I turned my head to the side so I could address him.

"That's seriously fucked up," I stated, leaving no room for question.