BItter hearts

Chapter 7

Negan’s POV

Y/N’s skin shone in the torchlight, the tiredness painted over her features highlighted by the glow, and Negan watched warily as she stepped inside, keeping her distance as much as was possible in the cramped space of the cell. She left the door open, but he could see the glint of metal on her belt where her gun was holstered and once again she had Lucille clutched in her hand, as if she could sense that it hurt him to see her with it. He wasn’t stupid enough to try and run and she knew it. So, it was with a smug kind of confidence that she leant against the wall opposite him, wrinkling her nose when the steel ridges dug into her spine.

‘Wow, this is kinda uncomfortable, huh?’

‘Pretty sure you designed it that way,’ he observed, though he mirrored her stance, wrapping his arms around himself to fend off the chill. ‘Doubt you’ve spent much time down here yourself though, right? Too busy lording it up upstairs surrounded by all the people that love you.’

‘They don’t love me, Negan. They respect me. There’s a difference. If you understood that, maybe you wouldn’t be here right now while my guys sort out the mess you made back home.’

‘Ouch.’ And again, she came out swinging. It seemed as if her entire being had turned to ice, and he rolled his eyes, tiring already of the conversation as his intrigue at her presence began to ebb. He was exhausted and in pain, and the last thing he needed was a sniping match with the one that got away. What he really wanted was to sleep. ‘So, c’mon then, doll. You said you wanted to talk, let’s talk. Except, I gotta say, I’m not too sure what exactly you think you and I might have to talk about.’

She shrugged, resting the tip of Lucille against the toe of her boot and focusing her gaze on the beautiful barbs that caught on the leather. ‘Thought we could catch up, I guess.’

‘Catch up? In the middle of the night? While I’m your fucking prisoner?’ He let out a long, low whistle. ‘Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling real chatty right now.’

‘It’s not personal, you know?’ She gestured vaguely at their bleak surroundings with one hand. 'All of this. It isn’t because of our history or because of what you did to me. It’s just how it has to be. I’d do the same to anyone.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Sure it is. You can’t be too careful these days, Negan. Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile. Give them your trust and they’ll stick a knife in your back. It doesn’t mean I don’t wanna talk to you. It’s just… business.’

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest and he shook his head, unable to miss the irony. God, she sounded like him. Was he really that big an asshole? He’d thought he was doing the right thing, saving people, building something, but look at her now, taking it just that little bit further. It was a wake-up call and it shook him to his core. He could have become this. It was a scary notion. ‘Well, doll, in that case what is it that you wanna talk about?’

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath and he knew what was coming before the words left her lips. 'Where is she? Your wife? She was sick before and, as far as I can tell, she wasn’t with you back at the factory. Did she…’

‘Die?’ Negan cast his eyes at the baseball bat still hanging at Y/N’s side and nodded slowly. 'Yeah. Yeah, she passed away just about the time this whole fucking thing started. Skin and bones she was, stuck in a damn hospital bed while the world went nuts outside her window. Still, it was probably better that way.’