Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

SKIN

Kennedy's POV

A few weeks had done wonders for my healing body, and sitting there on the front porch with Cole, feeling the sun on my skin, I finally felt close to normal again. The stitches had come out, and for once, I wasn't looking over my shoulder, waiting for Glenn or Daryl to remind me to take it easy.

We'd spent the morning helping to mend the collapsed section of the south wall, Cole working alongside the others to hammer up new supports while I sorted through whatever useful scraps we could salvage from the pile of debris beside it. Now, our hands scrubbed clean and the ache in my shoulder finally settled, it was good to just sit still, watching the others carry on with the day's work. The clink of hammers and the low murmur of voices echoed over the walls, and the scent of freshly cut wood filled the air.

Across the yard, I spotted Glenn busy at another section of the wall, passing tools to Aaron while keeping one eye fixed on Negan. Negan was only a few feet away from him, steadily reinforcing a crossbeam and looking very much like he wasn't bothered by Glenn's glare at all. As I watched, I caught Glenn's jaw tightening, his brows pulling together in a hard line. It was almost like he was daring Negan to meet his eyes, ready for a fight if one so much as sparked.

"Hey," Cole muttered, nudging my arm lightly. "You notice Glenn's been watching that guy like he's about two seconds away from taking his head off?"

I glanced at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. "That's because he probably is."

Cole chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "And here I thought you all were one big happy family over here."

I rolled my eyes. "Not exactly."

Cole leaned forward, interest piqued. "What's the story there? They got history?"

"Yeah...you could say that." I drew a deep breath, unsure where to start. Explaining Negan was like unravelling a string that just kept on going. "Negan used to run his own group, a pretty brutal one, called the Saviors."

Cole nodded, his attention focused, and I could see him fitting pieces together in his mind. "Go on."

I glanced back at Negan, catching the easy swagger in his stance even as he worked. The man had a way of looking like he owned every inch of ground he stepped on, almost amused by everything and everyone around him.

"Back when we first crossed paths with Negan, it wasn't exactly friendly. He killed a lot of our people, and not in quick, merciful ways. He did it to make a point, to keep us all in line." My gaze drifted to Glenn. "One of the people he killed was Glenn's wife, Maggie. She was pregnant."

Cole's jaw tightened, and he let out a low, disbelieving breath. "Christ."

"Yeah," I murmured.

Cole shook his head, his expression hard. "And this guy's just walkin' around like it's all fine and dandy. How's he still alive?"

I gave a small, bitter shrug. "Rick wanted him alive. Our old leader. He believed we could be better, that keeping Negan locked up would show we were different from him."

Cole's scoff cut through the quiet, dark and disbelieving. "So, Glenn has to just stand by, watching this guy roam free because a dead man said so?"

I nodded, though the thought stung. "Pretty much."

He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head in disgust. "Hell, that's not justice. That's a cruel joke. And you all just tolerate it?"

I sighed, my gaze drifting back to Negan. "Most don't. Not really. There are plenty who'd just as soon see him six feet under." Just as I said it, I realized Negan had caught me looking, and in true Negan fashion, he shot me a wink, followed by that devil-may-care grin.