Summary: Negan stumbles upon a familiar face from life before the end of the world.
Pairing: Negan (The Walking Dead) x OC
The dead walk the earth, the living survive on nothing but fuel in the form of safe houses and scraps of food they find or hunt. It wasn’t the way Emily ever thought things would be, or anyone for that matter, but there she was, hiding out in some old, abandoned cottage in the middle of the woods. She thought this would be her safe place, somewhere she could feel comfortable sleeping without the fear of being eaten by walkers in her sleep. She was wrong.
Emily had woken in the middle of the night to the sound of pounding on her front door that she’d hardly reinforced given her false sense of safety. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two came when fear started to override rational thought. Instead of running for weapons when the door cracked open, she attempted to hide herself in a small closet.
As the dead drug their feet in, they became frantic, or as frantic as the dead could be, in search for the living flesh they smelled and craved. Her hands shook and tears ran down her face. “This is it. This is how it’s going to end.” She thought, feeling more hopeless than ever.
Just when she had given up all hope, she heard something that would change the course of her awful night. The croaking sounds of walkers dying tang through the cottage, making her perk up and wonder what on earth was going on out there.
When the sounds of smashing and crushing finally came to a close, foot steps could be heard around the area. It seemed like only one person, but Emily couldn’t imagine a scenario where one person could kill so many walkers. And although it was against her better judgement, she slowly and quietly crawled out of the closet. She gasped as she was quickly met with the rotting face in hers. She threw herself into her back and took in the bloody scene around her.
Just as she started to get overwhelmed, a figure in the doorway took her attention. “Ho-ly shit!” The man exclaimed, oddly amused somehow. A barbed wire covered bat was sling over his shoulder, dripping with blood. He seemed unfazed by this. “We got a live one.”
“You did this?” She asked, not sure what she was more horrified by, the graveyard around her or the man above her that caused it without a flinch.
“Yeah and saved your ass in doing so.” He chuckled as he rest back on his heel. “What’s your name, doll?” The room was dark and she couldn’t see much, but she recognized that voice from somewhere.
“Emily.” She answered without thought, his demeanor and authoritative stance made her feel afraid, but he’d just saved her life. She couldn’t be anything less than grateful. “Thank you, for this.”
“Emily.. Have we met?” She was taken aback by the question, but upon really looking at him, she realized he was right. They’d met before, long before the outbreak.
“Negan?” She answered, trying to hold back a smile. She stood up and brushed herself off quickly before going back to the conversation. “You’re alive? What are you doing here?” She hurried to him and hugged him out of a rush of relief and joy.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He hugged her back, almost dropping his beloved bar in the process. His smile was still there, but it wasn’t the normal, cocky grin he often wore. He was shocked to find someone from his old life, relieved even. It suddenly made him miss the old days.
They’d met long before the outbreak, looking at her was like looking into the past, into a place he dearly missed when he let himself think about it.
He pulled away from him to look him in the eyes. He looked almost just as he did the last time he saw her, except maybe more muscular now. “I haven’t seen you since..” she trailed off, remembering exactly when she saw him last but didn’t want to say.
“Since the bar.” He finished, and in the back of both of their minds they remembered their first and last meetings.
Negan’s wife, Lucille, was harsh and demanding and every part of him felt his marriage had failed. They fought so often that he barely knew what it was like to laugh with a woman anymore, until he met Emily. He’d often go to the bar to get out for a while and let things cool off at home. That’s where he met her.
She was shy and new to bar tending, she wasn’t cut out for it but she was pretty and men tipped well. It wasn’t what she really wanted to do in life, but it paid the bills.
It was a slow night when Emily came into work. It was the last shift, and a short one at that. She was ready to go home as soon as she came, until she noticed the tired looking man at the end of the bar. A few others lingered as they sipped their drinks, but it was him she was interested in. “Hey.” She smiled as she gained his attention. “You okay?”
“Doin’ great doll.” It seemed like he’d actually meant to sound more honest, but it came out sarcastic. “Mind filling this up?” He slid his glass over to her, and motioned toward the nearby bottle of whiskey.
She lowly watched him as she poured the whiskey. She slid his glass back and checked on the other bar dwellers. After a few moments of contemplation, she went back to him. “Want to talk about it?” She pried, making him chuckle.
“That obvious, huh?” He rubbed his eyes with his hand and took a deep breath. “Think I’m here for the same reason most of these lonely, alcoholic bastards are here for. Angry wife.”
“Ooh. That bad, huh?” She rested her elbows on the bar and sipped on her soda. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s one of two things. This is your first big fight with a wife you’re crazy in love with, which I’m going to doubt since I’ve seen you here once or twice, or this is becoming so common that you don’t know what to do anymore. Am I close?” She found it easy to talk with him, despite her normal reserved nature.
“Spot on, sweetheart.” He chuckled and sipped his drink, looking confident but deep down she knew he was feeling down.
“It’s Emily.” She smiled and lightly tapped her name tag. She got a smile out of him, which was really all she wanted.
From that moment on, they bonded over broken relationships and their off sense of humor. It was an unexpected friendship laced with some kind of flirtatious nature, as time went on.
Negan quickly became attached to Emily, as he was able to use her as therapist and friend. She reminded him how to laugh, and she helped him forget about the rest of the world outside of the bar. And although the friendship was innocent enough, he knew himself enough to know he had feelings for her.
Emily, on the other hand, was incredibly oblivious to Negan’s flirting. She saw it as a joke most of the time, just friends kidding around, even if it did make her heart beat out of her chest. He wasn’t someone she ever imagined she’d want to be with, but she couldn’t help but imagine it at times. She found safety in him, as he was always there to ward off the seemingly sexual predators that frequented the bar now and then who always wanted more than a drink from her. She found solace in him, knowing she could vent if she needed to and ask for his opinion. He was honest and caring, something rare, she thought.
The last time Negan saw Emily, he knew it would be the last. The news of Lucille’s cancer made things hard for him, and he knew he couldn’t keep seeing this girl anymore. As much as it hurt him, he knew he had to let her go.
He walked into the bar, his composure slightly different than normal. His confident stride and cocky smirk had completely vanished. “Hey you.” Emily greeted him as he took his normal seat. He mumbles out some sort of greeting, but it was incomprehensible. “What’s up buttercup? Bad day?” She asked, thinking he and Lucille must have gotten into some kind of major fight.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Definitely a bad day.”
Emily frowned, she hated seeing him upset. “Whiskey kind of day, huh?” She poured him a drink but he put his hand out to stop her.
“Look sweetheart, I’m not staying today. I just wanted to drop in and give ya this.” He dropped a folder note down on the bar for her to read. He didn’t have the courage to tell her what he desperately needed to say, especially knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway.
Emily picked up the letter and looked him in his sad eyes, somehow knowing she wouldn’t see him again. “What’s this?” She asked, not really wanting to open it.
He sighed and looked away for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “Read it later, okay? Lucille’s got cancer so I won’t be around much anymore. Just thought I’d say ‘bye’ to my favorite bar tender.” He tried to make it light, but this didn’t feel good for him, it felt like a break up.
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She nodded, squeezing the paper in her hand. “Well I hope I see you around some time, Negan.” She forced a smile, even though no part of her felt like smiling.
“Me too, princess.” He walked out, feeling more broken than he ever had. It was hard, knowing she was about to find out what he’d been feeling, and not being able to do anything about it. Not to mention the guilt he started to feel about having feelings for another woman while he was married.
It was tough on the both of them, but they never saw each other again. Not before the outbreak, that is.
“Yeah. The bar.” She said, slowly. She didn’t want to remember that night, but she still had his note. She carried it with her the moment she’d been forced to flee her home, knowing it was all she had left of him and the old life she’d lived.
“I’m real sorry about that Em.” He started, but she didn’t want him to finish.
“Dead.” He said, abruptly. “She died while all the shit started hitting the fan. Turned into one of them.” He shrugged, feeling a little defeated. He hadn’t really talked about it before, but he knew he could trust her.
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t expected that answer, somehow.
“Don’t be. I’m glad she didn’t have to deal with this shit show.” He motioned around them, and she knew where he was coming from. Part of her wished she never had to deal with it too, but the other option scared her more.
“Right.” She nodded and looked out the window. She felt nervous, never did she think this opportunity would come. Honestly she figured he was dead. “So what are you doing here? On the run?”
“Never.” He said, confidently. “I run a place called The Sanctuary. It’s an old compound we fenced in. We take in everyone we can, make deals with other communities, you know.”
“Thats sounds amazing. I’ve been on my own since this started. Somehow I’m still not any good at fighting these things.” She laughed, knowing her weaknesses.
“How the hell have you been living in this without fighting?” He asked, semi amused but mostly worried.
“I just go from house to house. I board everything up and live on the food and stuff there until it runs out, then I venture off to a new home.” She wasn’t proud of the way she’d been living, and honestly she had very little contact with anyone since the beginning. It was amazing to her not only seeing someone, but seeing someone she knew.
“Come on, come to The Sanctuary with me. We got food and hot water, even beer.” The offer was enough without the luxuries he’d mentioned. She realized she still had feelings for him, and she wondered if he still felt the way he said he did in the letter. There was only one way for her to find out.
“I’d love to, thank you.”
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