𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

•35•

  Negan hadn't slept much the night of your kidnapping. He waited for the soft sound of your knock at his door for most of the night. He couldn't wait to have you to himself once again. Whiskey swirled in the bottom of his glass as the hours ticked by. At around 3 AM, he called it a night, assuming you had gone to the staircase and nothing of importance was spilled. He was disappointed, to say the least. His mind had been spinning ideas on how the night of your return was going to play out. There were some bumps in the night there at the beginning of his hours-long wait. He had chalked it up to one of the saviors being drunk and clamoring down the stairs.

A frantic beating at the door sent him flying up out of bed. The clock read 5:27 AM. He slipped on a pair of dark wash jeans and boots before he answered the door to find a distraught Sherry. Thinking it was another part of her scheme to win him over, he didn't take much heed to her presence.

"I don't know what kind of schedule your plans are on but I'm not playing into your games at five in the goddamned morning.", he told her groggily.

Her eyes remained wide and her mouth opened and closed like she was trying to push words out but her tongue wouldn't enunciate them. He stood there, brow raised, waiting for her to spit some lie. But she didn't lie, and the shaky words finally tumbled from her mouth.

"Dwight has her.", she spoke.

Negan leaned into the doorframe and crossed his arms, growing more aggravated with each second he wasn't asleep in his bed.

"Yeah, no fucking shit, you're kind of the reason she's not with me.", Negan batted back, leaning up from the doorframe.

She was about two seconds from him closing the door until she finally found the right words.

"No, you're not understanding. He took her. They're gone.", her voice was firmer this time.

He stops, dead in his tracks. His brows furrow as he stares her down, looking for any indication of this being some kind of sick joke. He doesn't find any.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Fear and guilt all hit her at the same time. It made it even harder to tell him what happened.

"She overheard us. He chased her up here and took off with her. I don't know where they went. I tried to stop him.", tears stung her eyes and her words shook in the air.

His blood began to boil and his body almost shook with rage. He grabbed Lucille from just inside the door and pointed a finger in Sherry's face.

"If you're fucking lying, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands, Sherry.", his voice was deathly calm.

"Come on.", he ordered.

He pushed past her, heading for the stairwell. She followed closely behind him, struggling to keep up.

"Where are you going?", she asked.

He stopped just before the stairwell door, Lucille rested on his shoulder. The look in his eyes brought out a fear unlike any she had ever experienced.

"We're gonna find them. And then I'm going to bash his fucking skull in."

-

The charger zipped by reanimated corpses, following the tracks of a car that had recently passed through, leaving displaced leaves and trash in its path. Sherry's widened eyes glanced from the road to the speedometer on the dash. Her grip on the roof handle turned her knuckles white after reading 122mph. The RPM gauge was damn near pegged.

"Negan- we should slow down.", she pled quietly, barely audible over the roar of the motor.

He ignored her, maintaining reckless speeds. For the first time since the world went to shit, Sherry buckled her seat belt and held on for dear life. The sun had just begun to rise. Orange and yellow rays cast soft shadows on the terrain below. Sherry had planned on sleeping in the car but with the engine almost hitting the rev limiter and the sun on its way up in the sky, it began to seem like a missed opportunity. She expected to look over and find Negan, at least, drowsy for he hadn't had much sleep. But she didn't. He hadn't seemed to show any indication of sleep deprivation. If not for the dark circles under his eyes, she would've thought he was well-rested.

"Where do you think they're going?", she asked, watching him carefully.

His eyes stayed glued to the road and his foot remained heavy on the gas pedal.

"He's going to try to get as far away from me as fast as he can.", Negan answered dryly.

Dwight knew the wrath of Negan better than anyone. The scar burnt into his face was only to prove a point. This was different. He had awoken the part of Negan that he himself didn't even know still existed. It was a primal sort of rage. A rage that can only be cured by the spilling of blood and the sound of pained screams. He wanted to burn him alive. He wanted to watch the life leave his eyes. That alone kept him pushing, no care for anything but getting to you and Dwight.

"Negan, I want you to know I didn't have any part in this. I wouldn't do that to anybody.", Sherry spoke once more.

It only seemed to make him more angry.

"Then why the fuck did you wait five hours to tell me?", he snapped.

Sherry almost flinched at the sudden flip of his demeanor. She knew he was going through a lot at that moment and decided against speaking again. He almost immediately regretted snapping at her. If it wasn't for Sherry, he would've probably still been sound asleep.

"I'm sorry. I know you didn't do this.", he eventually apologized begrudgingly.

She paused a moment before replying. Guilt, for being the reason this domino effect had started, ate away at her. Watching him go insane, driving like a maniac, seeing the fear hidden behind the rage, made her realize just how much he cared for you. She sat in the passenger seat, chastising herself for trying to snake her way between the two of you.

"You love her don't you?", she asked softly.

Love.

He hadn't said the words. He felt them though. God, does he feel them. You are the rising and the setting of his sun. You are the glint in his smile. You're the beating in his chest. You're the soft breeze on a warm summer evening. You're it. Without you, the world was cold. It was as dead and frigid as everyone else had seen it. You brought life back to him. His lips threatened to turn upward picturing your groggy smile wrapped in the silk sheets of his bed, the sound of your laugh, the way your eyebrows raise when he says something crazy, the feeling of your head resting on his chest. They stayed pressed into a thin line though. The realization that he may not find you quickly coming back.

"More than anything."

-

"Negan, look.", Sherry exclaimed, pointing at the veering of the tire tracks.

He finally removed his foot from the gas and pressed the brake, whipping the charger into the parking lot of an abandoned motel. They both had their doubts pulling up to the scene, it could've been any set of tire tracks they had been following for hours. But Negan wouldn't ever stop until he exhausted every lead, every shit hole Dwight could hold you in, every rock he could turn. He wouldn't ever stop.

He slammed the gear shift into park, flying out of the car, Lucille in his grasp. Sherry hadn't had time to find the button to her seat belt much less hop out of the car. He began kicking in the doors to the motel rooms, calling your name, wishing Dwight had come to his senses and left you here safe and sound for him to find you. As Sherry finally joined him in his frivolous search as he kicked in the door of Room 14. The door came buckling off the hinges, leaving shards of wood in its place. His eyes instantly locked onto the chair laced with frayed, yellow rope.

He called your name louder, feeling the remnants of your presence that got left behind. Sherry followed him in, staying behind as he checked the bathroom. Her eyes flitted across the room, noting the pieces of porcelain that looked to be from a thrown lamp. She inspected further, stepping closer to the evidence of foul play. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted red blotches stained into the blue, floral duvet.

Her breath got caught in her throat. She debated on whether to tell Negan or not. He had already gone insane, seeing the blood would send him over the edge. She looked up from the stains and found it was already too late to cover it up. His eyes locked onto the crimson splotches on the bed. She could almost see his stomach turn at the sight. He took a few steps and took two fingers and wiped the almost dried substance from the blanket. He examined the sticky smear on his fingers before flicking a knowing look to Sherry.

They weren't far behind.

•