𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 | 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 On hold

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑

 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, painting the heavens with their fiery embrace, engulfing the slaughterhouse in a merciless inferno. Within its blazing depths lay the final resting place of Jaylynn's cherished companions.

There, amidst the roaring conflagration, they discovered Primo, his life extinguished by a gunshot wound, his body splayed outside the outpost's entrance. Tenderly, they carried him back into the slaughterhouse, where he joined the silent company of Molly. As Simon arrived, bearing witness to the tragic scene, Arat struck the match, igniting the funeral pyre that would consume their memories and dreams.

The mustached man stood sentinel, a stoic figure amidst the gathered crowd, his gaze fixed upon the roaring blaze. Though the concrete facade would endure, within its fiery embrace, all else would be reduced to ash.

Beside him, Arat intertwined her fingers with his, their silent solidarity a fragile comfort amidst the devastation. Negan approached Jaylynn from behind, his presence a silent reassurance as he enveloped her in a tender embrace, his arm draped over her shoulders.

Jaylynn struggled against the rising tide of grief, her heart heavy with sorrow yet unyielding to the torrent of tears threatening to spill forth. She was not ready to confront this loss, not yet.

The ache within her begged for solace, for the familiar embrace of solitude and the numbing comfort of whiskey. The urge to unleash her anguish, to shatter the world around her, pulsed with every beat of her heart.

In the confines of the vehicle, Jaylynn gripped the steering wheel tightly, the weight of grief heavy upon her shoulders. Paula's truck, now entrusted to her care, became a vessel for her tumultuous emotions. As the engine roared to life, the haunting melodies of Primo's beloved Black Sabbath album filled the air, a poignant reminder of the friend she had lost.

With each echoing refrain, Jaylynn's voice rose in anguished harmony, a primal scream of pain and defiance against the cruel hand fate had dealt. She repeated the ritual threefold, the music drowning out the deafening silence of her shattered world, if only for a fleeting moment.

As the Sanctuary loomed into view, Jaylynn silenced the music, a solemn acknowledgment of the weight that hung heavy in the air. Her gaze met Joey's with a muted nod as she passed through the gate, his somber expression reflecting the shared burden of loss.

Approaching the front entrance, Regina, flanked by a handful of Saviors, awaited their arrival. Stepping forward to meet the lieutenants, her posture betrayed the gravity of the moment, a silent understanding passing between them as they prepared to confront the aftermath of tragedy.

"They're dead?" Regina's voice trembled with disbelief as she uttered the words, her question hanging heavy in the air. Jaylynn's silent nod was confirmation enough, a wordless admission to the unbearable truth that weighed upon them all.

With a heavy heart, Jaylynn emerged from the vehicle, her footsteps echoing with the weight of sorrow. Behind her, Negan, Simon, and Arat followed a silent procession of mourning in the wake of unspeakable loss.

"I'm going to the bar," Jaylynn's voice was barely a whisper, carrying the weight of her grief as she passed by the solemn assembly. Each person made way for her, a silent acknowledgment of her need for solace in the numbing embrace of whiskey and the refuge of solitude.

As the amber liquid poured into the glass, its familiar warmth offered a fleeting respite from the chilling reality that enveloped her. Jaylynn sank into the embrace of her solitary refuge, the weight of the day settling heavily upon her shoulders like a suffocating shroud.The irony of her situation wasn't lost on her. Despite her solemn vow to shield herself from the pain of attachment, she had unwittingly allowed herself to become entwined in the lives of those around her. In a mere span of months, she had forged bonds of friendship only to watch helplessly as they were mercilessly torn asunder.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions that threatened to engulf her, one stark realization pierced through the numbness that gripped her soul: she couldn't cry. Try as she might, the tears refused to fall, trapped behind a dam of stoicism that she couldn't breach. It was as if her body had become a prison, withholding the release that her heart so desperately sought.

These fallen souls had become her family, their absence leaving an irreplaceable void in her world. The bitter sting of failure gnawed at her, taunting her with the cruel reminder of her inability to protect those she held dear. Jules, Michonne, Alex, Paula, Donnie, Molly, Primo—their names echoed like a dirge in her mind, a haunting litany of loss that threatened to consume her.

And amidst the haunting specter of grief loomed the specter of fear, its icy tendrils tightening around her heart with each passing moment. What if she lost Negan? Simon? Arat? Laura? The thought clawed at her, a chilling reminder of the fragility of life and the ever-looming specter of death that haunted her every step.

"Sunshine," Negan's gentle voice shattered the oppressive stillness, drawing Jaylynn's gaze upward from the depths of her solitude. Weariness etched into the lines of her face, she met his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the weight that pressed upon her soul.

Lost in the haze of whiskey and sorrow, Jaylynn struggled to grasp the passage of time. How long had she been here? How much had she consumed? The answers eluded her, obscured by the numbing embrace of intoxication that now enveloped her senses.

"S'Primo's wife okay?" Jaylynn's voice wavered slightly as she posed the question, her gaze drifting aimlessly amidst the haze of alcohol and anguish that clouded her mind.

"She took the news as well as she could. She doesn't know how she's gonna tell the kids though." Negan's response carried a weight of its own, his words tinged with a solemnity that mirrored the gravity of their situation. As he settled into the seat beside her, a silent companion in her solitude, Jaylynn's thoughts turned to Primo's wife—the silent victim of their shared tragedy.

The image of Primo's wife, grappling with the shattering news of her husband's demise, tugged at Jaylynn's frayed heartstrings. She could almost feel the weight of the burden that now rested upon her shoulders—the daunting task of bearing such devastating news to their children.

With a heavy sigh, Jaylynn lifted the glass to her lips, the fiery liquid burning a path down her throat as she sought refuge in its numbing embrace. In the solace of alcohol's fleeting warmth, she found a brief respite from the storm that raged within her, even as the weight of their collective grief threatened to crush her beneath its weight.

"Kids," Jaylynn's voice softened, a wistful sadness dancing in her eyes as she spoke, her lips curling into a melancholic smile. "Do you want any?"

The question hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken longing and the weight of unfulfilled dreams. Jaylynn's gaze shifted to Negan, searching for a glimpse of his innermost thoughts amidst the silence that enveloped them.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as Negan remained lost in his own contemplations, his gaze fixed ahead as if searching for answers in the shadows of their shared sorrow. The silence stretched on, an uneasy tension threading through the air like a taut wire.

And then, finally, he spoke. His words were measured, laden with a weight that echoed the depths of his soul, yet filled with a quiet resolve that spoke volumes in their simplicity.

"I've always wanted kids," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "But in this world, I don't think it's a good idea. At least not yet..."

His words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the harsh realities that governed their existence—a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, where the simple act of survival often took precedence over the pursuit of dreams. Jaylynn nodded solemnly, her own thoughts mirroring his as they grappled with the daunting prospect of bringing new life into a world gripped by chaos and despair.

Jaylynn's words spilled forth with a hint of drunken whimsy, her voice tinged with a bittersweet longing as she shared her secret desire. "I always wanted a little girl," she confessed, her words slurred slightly as she leaned into Negan's comforting embrace, a playful giggle escaping her lips. "I want to name her Ivory, Ivory Smith has a ring to it."

Negan's laughter mingled with hers, a moment of shared levity amidst the weight of their sorrow. As he gently pulled her head down onto his shoulder, Jaylynn swayed unsteadily, her world spinning with the effects of alcohol and emotion. Yet, nestled in the crook of his neck, she found a semblance of solace, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

With practiced ease, Negan slipped an arm around her waist, steadying her trembling form with a silent strength born of love and understanding. In that simple gesture, he offered her the anchor she so desperately sought—a reminder that, even in the darkest of nights, they were not alone.

"God, I love you," Negan admits quietly, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She barely heard him in her haze, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of leather and cigars and Negan. 

The scent of home.