I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

A foolish confrontation

Fuck.

There he was. Steve, looking dishevelled, with hollow, staring eyes, looking a far cry from the man she had seen a day or so ago, lurching towards the pair of them now, weapon raised aloft.

Almost immediately, before she could even take a breath, Blake's eyes widened in sheer fright as the blade swept across her vision. But she staggered backwards, as the hand holding hers, tugged her violently out of the knife's reach.

The blade sliced past her, narrowly missing her leather-clad sleeve by a mere fraction of an inch.

At this, Blake stumbled slightly, toppling backwards into Negan's strong and taut body behind her as he pulled her roughly around to stand behind him, blocking her body from Steve sight.

But Steve was unrelenting, taking three or four big strides over towards them, as both Negan and Blake backed away slightly, with Negan standing protectively in front of the caramel blonde woman now.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This was all Blake's fault. She had let him go.

After what he had threatened to do, she had still let him leave the Sanctuary, despite knowing what lengths he had been willing to go to.

And right now, he was truly proving just what these lengths were, as he stood before the pair of them, chest heaving, in a ripped shirt, muddy jeans and boots, with what looked like stolen bread knife in his hand.

Steve hair was wild, and his eyes even wilder, as he panted, jabbing the blade at them, looking deranged.

"Steve, w-what the hell are you doing?!" Blake asked quickly, tugging her hand from Negan's grasp and staring hard at the tall, brown haired-man in front of her.

But Steve was unrelenting now, advancing on the pair of them before they had a chance to barely say a word to him.

Positioned close in front of her, Blake heard Negan let out a low and angry growl under his breath.

She could tell he was seething now, his t-shirt clad shoulder's tensed and bearded chin lowered darkly. He was currently being set upon, in his own goddamn home, so Blake could definitely understand why.

"Oh, well, aren't you a clever fuckin' pretty-boy," remarked the dark-haired Saviour. "Sneakin' up here, past my men, to come find me."

Steve shook his head, jabbing the knife towards them again. But he ignored Negan's words, instead addressing the caramel-blonde woman alone.

"I-I have to do this, Blake!" he said thickly, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke, sounding almost distraught....at his wits end...

But Blake moved around Negan, coming to stand at the dark-haired Saviour's side, gazing desperately up at her fellow Alexandrian.

"No, you don't Steve," she cried in a voice of sheer frustration. "I let you go...you didn't have to come back here!"

Blake knew what was likely to happen now. All Negan needed to do was lift that familiar old baseball-bat in his hand and take a swing, and that would be the end of Steve. Completely and utterly.

"Yes I did," Steve replied with malice in his voice, his eyes moved now from Blake to Negan instead. "I'm doing this for everyone hurt by this asshole and his people. And I'm just disappointed that you didn't want to be a part of it. You could have helped me, Blake!"

But Blake frowned, shooting Steve an incredulous look.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" she barked back angrily, as Steve brandished the knife before him, his eyes flickering almost at once back to her. "You don't have a clue about any of this stuff, Steve. Rosita's obviously filled your head with all of this-"