No Sanctuary For Old Men [18+] |Negan| ✔️ Complete

LV • Helpless

Daphne was amazed she hadn't worn a hole through the floor with her pacing. But there was little else to do. She was worried and anxious and she hated both of those things. Not knowing what was going on outside of this fucking cage was driving her batshit.

At least being in the cell allowed her not to be tied anymore. Her arms had gotten so stiff from being fastened behind her for so long, and she'd spent her first hour behind bars stretching them out.

She'd had a moment of panic and tried to wrench the bars free of the concrete, but she regained her composure quickly. She didn't want to show weakness to these assholes. But she was so desperate to know what happened to Negan and her friends.

Daryl had been so adamant about bringing her back to Sanctuary. If he'd reneged and shoved her in the Alexandrian cell she assumed the tides had turned for them.

She grasped the steel bars in her fists, biting back a scream.

Negan had better be alive.

She didn't know how long she was down there, as there were no windows. They fed her at one point, jerky and water, brought down by a priest of all things. She vaguely remembered seeing him in the church when they'd visited Alexandria last.

"Thank you, Father," Daphne said as he slid the tray to the cage with a broom handle. She was highly amused that he was taking such precaution, but not especially surprised. She'd never met a priest in her life that would ever seem useful during an apocalypse. Maybe he came with the town like Spencer and his soft friends.

"You're welcome," the dark skinned priest said, mouth in a thin line. She couldn't read his expression, and it was disconcerting. But she had an opportunity here, and the lieutenant was never one to waste an opportunity.

She lowered herself to her knees, dirty and tattered skirts fanning out beneath her.

"Do you think I'm redeemable, Father?" she asked as she gently reached through the bars for the cup of water. Her tone was soft, almost a sigh, and she raised her gaze to him almost bashfully.

"Everyone is redeemable in the eyes of the Lord," he replied slowly, eyes still so stoic.

"How does that factor in to Alexandria?" She took a small sip of water, reveling in the coolness on her parched tongue. "Who gets to judge me here, before I'm judged where it really matters?"

His gaze softened a fraction. "Nobody has the right to do that here," he said, though he seemed as if he were trying to convince himself.

"But they're going to." She sighed, lowering her eyes and picking up the jerky. She turned it over in her hand, not sure if she wanted the saltiness until her hydration was better. "Can I confess to you, Father?"

"Of course." He nodded, though his stance was reluctant.

"I've killed people, without remorse, because I felt they deserved it. I would burn this community to the ground if it meant keeping my people safe." Daphne took in a deep breath, taking another sip of water. "And though I don't feel guilty about it, I know that I should. I know that a morally good person shouldn't want to kill. Turn the other cheek and all that.

"But we're self preservationists, Father. Which you understand, because you're still here. Which means you've either killed or allowed others to kill for you." She noted the flicker of trepidation in his eyes and cocked her head. "Carol couldn't take it anymore and she left...what's your excuse?"

He didn't reply.

"Did Daryl tell you why I'm wearing his shirt?" she continued, and the mask finally crumbled, revealing concern and fear on the priests face. "A Savior tried to rape me last night. Daryl killed him, and then gave me this shirt so I wasn't indecently exposed." She swallowed hard for effect. "Was that wrong of him? Was it wrong of him to kill the rapist? Or was it only wrong because he did it to save the enemy? Or did it matter in that moment that I was the enemy...was he just reacting to seeing someone in danger?"