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[vizhi0n]

Sawney - Part 23

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Warnings: just negans potty mouth.

Carl, unlike during Desa’s first tour of the Sanctuary, didn’t look impressed. He looked more befuddled than anything, his single eyes darting around the room as he took in everything. The way the people knelt the moment Negan entered the main area, the way each individual member had a duty, a responsibility. Desa couldn’t tell whether or not his awe was simply delayed, influenced by fear for his life.

The moment Negan suggested that they head to his room, Desa cringed. That meant the parlor. That meant the wives — Desa had been attempting to avoid them at all cost.

Nonetheless, she followed behind Negan and Carl, keeping her head ducked as they opened the door.

None of the women knelt — they hardly acknowledged Negan. Sherry and Amber were the only two who reacted. Amber, eyes red rimmed, placed her head in her hands while Sherry moved from her side, hurrying over to Negan.

Desa stayed leaning against the wall, next to the door. Carl briefly turned his head to look at her, his gaze lingering, a puzzled expression on his face.

God, he reminded her so much of Jack.

Jack had been naive. Innocent. This boy was hardened, aged. There was no telling what he’d seen. He was who Jack should have been — strong.

Desa found it hard to feel pity for Amber. Negan’s movements seemed robotic, as he knelt before her. As he spoke, Carl finally addressed Desa, walking over to her.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve already told you my name.”

“No,” Carl said in a hushed tone. “Who are you? You don’t look like you belong here.”

“I belong here. You don’t. You’ve got it twisted,” Desa tilted her chin up. “This could have gone differently for you and your people. You chose this path.”

“So did you.”

“Desa,” Negan called. She pushed away from the wall, brushing past Carl, aware that the boy was still watching her. Negan raised a finger, his voice hollow. “Do me a favor, and get the fucking iron ready. You know — the one downstairs.” 

You chose this path.

You did.

You.

“Yes,” Desa answered, and she went.

Negan didn’t make her watch, this time. She slipped away, retreating to the room she and Negan shared after she handed the iron off to Dwight, who in turn would hand it to Negan.

He made Carl watch, however. She could hear Mark’s screams echo throughout the Sanctuary, pained and twisted. She lay on Negan’s bed with a pillow over her head to block out the noise. When it was over, Desa stripped and showered, scrubbing her skin until it turned red. When she stepped out, she could hear hushed noises from beyond the bathroom door. She dried herself, dressing and cautiously stepping into the room.

The boy sat opposite of Negan, hair brushed to the side. Desa noticed the bandage in his lap, first, and her gaze naturally shifted to the jagged wound where his eye should have been. It was scarred over, but still off-putting and grotesque.

Desa couldn’t stop staring.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Desa jumped, shaking her head and sliding onto the bed. In a tired voice, she said, “I hope you aren’t traumatizing the kid. He doesn’t need it.” 

“Stop pretending like you care,” Carl barked. He stood, though the sudden movement didn’t faze Negan. “Whatever game you’re playing, it’s over,” he stared down at Negan, fists clenched. “You know what I think? I think that you’re keeping me alive because you can’t kill me, or my dad.”

Negan smiled. He looked over his shoulder, clicking his tongue at Desa. “What a little badass. My men need to take some fucking notes,” he rested Lucille against his lap. “You’re fucking right. I can’t kill you. It wouldn’t serve a fucking purpose.”

Carl didn’t seem calmed by Negan’s admittance. Now it was Desa’s turn, and she slid from the bed, leaning down and murmuring a request in Negan’s ear, praying that he’d oblige.

“Can I talk to the kid? Alone?” Desa said with pleading eyes. Negan gnawed on his lower lip. Desa hoped that her eyes were telling him everything he needed to know.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

Negan left. Carl visibly relaxed, his one good eye staring particularly hard at one corner of the room.

“Sit down,” Desa said softly. To her surprise, Carl obeyed. She saw him slowly unclench his fist and adjust the sheriff’s hat on his head. “It was really, really stupid for you to come here.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know. But that’s not your fault,” Desa replied. “I applaud your bravery. It’s admirable. Maybe that’s why Negan likes you so much—”

“He probably likes me as much as he likes you. He uses people,” Carl growled. “Until he doesn’t need them. It’s why I’m still alive. It’s why my dad is still alive—”

“Trust me. He doesn’t like you the way he likes me,” Desa snorted. Carl’s face fell and he made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. The closer he leaned in, the more Desa got a look at the nasty hole where his eye used to have been.

“How’d you lose your eye?”

“Bullet,” Carl answered briskly. When Desa didn’t reply, he sighed, saying softly, “Back at the house. You told me I reminded you of someone.”

“You do.”

“Who?”

Desa’s lower lip twitched, and she shifted uncomfortably. Trying to sound as dismissive as possible, she said, “My younger brother, Jack. You remind me of what he could have been. Strong.”

“How’d he die?”

Caught off guard, Desa said simply, “We were in a bad place. Surrounded by bad people. They took him from me, hurt him. And then I killed him to save him.”

Carl stared from beneath his mop of brown hair, a sad, sad expression on his young face. Almost reluctantly, he said, “Why all of this?”

“Because you asked.”

“No,” Carl responded, more strongly. “Telling me about your brother, keeping me alive, showing me this place. Why. And you…you follow him.”

“My friends are dead because of your people. What happened on the road doesn’t need to happen again,” Desa explained. “You are here because you strayed too far from your own path. It’s so easy to do the wrong thing in this world — my brother learned that the hard way. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you, Carl.”

“It won’t.”

“I believe you,” Desa stood, peering over at the door. “Now, let’s get you home.”

“Rick is out searching for supplies,” a heavyset woman with dark hair and glasses spoke in a nervous, almost hushed tone, before finally noticing Carl. “Carl — what the hell are you doing?” 

As usual, the Alexandrian’s had welcomed them back with semi-open arms. Desa could feel the relief in air when Negan announced that, no, they weren’t here for pickup. Laura stayed back near the gate, while Arat stood guard outside the house. The dark haired woman had introduced herself as Olivia, visibly shaken by Negan’s appearance.

Nevertheless, she welcomed them inside — well, Negan welcomed himself inside, while Carl and Desa followed — before explaining Rick’s absence.

“Well, I’ll just kick my fucking feet back and wait for his return,” Negan gave a low whistle, spinning and surveying the home. “Nice fuckin’ place you’ve got here. Say, Olivia, you got any of that good-ass fuckin’ lemonade lying around?”

“I can go check,” Olivia shrugged, before her shoulders fell and she admitted, “There’s…we’re running out of food pretty fast. We’re practically starving.”

“Starving?”

Desa whipped her head to the side, raising her eyebrows at Negan’s tone. He towered over Olivia, and even though Desa knew he wasn’t trying to be intentionally intimidating, it wasn’t coming off as anything but that.

Negan chuckled and continued, “You? Starving? By ‘practically’ you mean ‘not fucking really.’”

“Negan,” Desa hissed. To her horror, Olivia’s eyes began to swell with tears. She turned away, removing her glasses and letting of a soft sob. Negan met Desa’s gaze, taken aback by her caustic glare. He scrunched up his nose, almost as if he were going to disregard Desa — his expression changed when Olivia cried even louder.

Negan turned, gently tapping Olivia on the shoulder. The woman furiously wiped away her tears, turning to face Negan with whatever confidence she had left.

Apologize. 

Desa watched with narrowed eyes as Negan leaned forward and spoke.

“I’m…sorry for being so fucking rude to you. It was uncalled for. It’s looks like we’re going to be spending a shitton of fucking time together as we await the return of your fearless fucking leader so…” Negan paused, tilting his head. “If you’re agreeable to it, I’d very much like to fuck your fucking brains out.”

Four seconds of silence. Olivia’s face went from distraught, to terrified, to downright annoyed. Her hand moved, fast and lightning, the sound of her palm hitting Negan’s cheek echoing throughout the room.

While Negan stood, stunned, Desa let out a burst of cackling laughter.

“I was, uh, fucking kidding. I’m committed to sticking my dick in one certain woman's pussy at the moment,” Negan shook his head, moving his jaw as he still recovered from the hit. “But if I wasn’t — I’d be about fifty percent more fucking into you right now.”

Olivia and Desa locked eyes, and Desa couldn’t help but wink and give the woman a nod of approval.

Negan came up with the ingenious idea of cooking spaghetti, though not before disappearing into the bathroom to shave. Carl retrieved Judith while Olivia searched for the lemonade, returning right as Negan reentered the kitchen, face smooth, dimples on full display. He draped his jacket over the kitchen chair, speaking briskly to Carl before the two of them got started on the spaghetti.

Olivia sat on the couch while Desa played with Judith, the woman visibly nervous as the toddler fiddled with Desa’s bag, before grabbing a puzzle from the corner of the living room. She said something unintelligibly, plopping down before Desa.

It was one thing after another — a puzzle, a book, a toy train. The little girl was tireless and full of energy — something Desa wasn’t used to. Nonetheless, after a few minutes, she was the only thing that mattered to Desa. Olivia’s judgmental stare, Carl constantly peering over the couch to view his sister, it all didn’t matter. The girl had captured Desa’s full attention, and for the first time, she felt raw, genuine joy, further amplified by Negan’s presence.

This is how life is supposed to be.

“Food is fucking ready,” Negan called.

“Can you please not swear in front of Judith?” Olivia gave an exasperated sigh.

“Shit — I mean fuck — I mean, darn. Sorry,” Negan waved a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose while Carl set the table. Desa joined, noticing the boy’s quietness.

“Are you okay, Carl?”

“I’m fine,” Carl didn’t look at her. “Everything is fine. This is fine.”

“You’re damn — I mean darn — right,” Negan quipped. As they began serving themselves, he rested his forearms on the table, letting out a groan. “I’m not waiting for your dad. He get here when he gets here,” he grabbed his fork. In a low voice, he said, “Carl. Can you please pass the rolls?”