A STRANGE SENSE of comfort eased Harper's nerves with the weight of a gun in her hands, the scratched steel grazing her fingertips with a startling intimacy. There was something vulnerable about holding the weapon (despite the physical protection), the ever-looming threat of losing a piece of her humanity more dangerous than the monsters she fought against. Adjusting her hold, the dark-haired woman felt her gaze fixate upon a walker on the other side of the fence.

It had escaped the grip of a worker, now stumbling across towards a pair that were hurriedly strapping a dead one to the fence. The three workers scrambled to keep the situation controlled,  but with too many walkers strapped to the fence and rubble there were few places to move. Lining up the shotgun, Harper released a huff and promptly pulled the trigger, watching as the escaped walker fell to the ground, a gaping hole surrounding its right eye and an explosion of blood spattering across the pavement.

One of the workers jumped at the sound, frightened eyes watching Harper as she reloaded. Crouching, he hooked his arm's underneath the walker's armpits, dragging it towards another part of the fence. Maintaining eye contact, he only looked away when Dwight approached the woman, arms crossed. His position as her watchdog and his ever-looming presence had began to bother her.

"Told them there wasn't much point in giving you a shotgun instead of a rifle." Dwight said, nodding his head at the bloody corpse. "Reckon we could give you a slingshot and you'd still hit your mark."

Harper had no response, continuing to scan the area and manage the workers.

"It's just a precaution." She finally said, turning to Dwight with a glint in her features. "You'd be stupid to give someone you've only known for a week something with a scope."

Dwight hummed, the pair watching in silence as the workers continued to slave away in the blaring sun, beige sweaters stained with sweat. Exhaustion radiated off of them, the sight sending Harper's jaw firm and her grip tight on the shotgun.

"You made the right choice, you know." Dwight said, his air of confidence slipping away for a moment. "You're protecting them by being here. You save the really awful shit for yourself, keep them out of it. Might spare some of what you got left."

Harper felt a bitter laugh bubble out of her throat. It came out as a hiss, the young Korean woman looking to him with spite.

"Assuming I've got someone left to protect."

Dwight abandoned his speech, adjusting his hold on the rifle before walking towards the entrance.

Yeah, that sorted him out.

Harper watched him leave, brows furrowing at the worn leather that swallowed his lanky form, the garment far too large for his bony body. The dirtied grey wings of Daryl's vest hung from loosened stitches, a taunting reminder of all the places it had been - the Prison, Terminus, Alexandria too - and the man that it belonged to. He no longer had his vest.

Muscles tight, Harper straightened her posture and barked at the Saviour.

"Where'd you get the jacket?"

Dwight faced her with caution, shrugging his shoulders.

"Found it." He said, and they both knew it was a lie. Harper forced a smile, contempt rising up her throat and sending a rancid taste across her tongue.

"Looks good." She forced out.

Brows rising slightly and pausing, Dwight sent a nod her way.

"Thanks. I'll see you after your watch." He said, leaving Harper alone in the concrete space.

︽

When her watch was finished, Harper returned the shotgun, palming it off to a Saviour with a skeptical look in his eye. Despite Negan's public insistence that she, as well as their other newbies, were to be treated as one of their own, there was an obvious distrust towards the young Korean woman. While she was smart enough to keep moments such as these to herself, it was doubtful that she could fully win them over.

But she didn't need to convince them all. Just the ones calling the shots.

Rapping her knuckles against the metal door to Dwight's room, Harper licked her lips and looked to the floor. The numbing fury from earlier had resurfaced, the woman running her hands over one another just to bring some sensation into them. There was a low ember burning in her stomach, motivating her to continue the charade.

The man behind the door was insufferable, cowardice oozing out of every orifice and clogging the air around him. As it opened, Harper straightened her posture. Dwight wore a hard expression, brow stiffening when he saw her. It was a very different reaction from this morning.

"I was wondering when you'd be finished on watch." Dwight said, looking back into his room.

A pause hung in the air, Harper waiting for him to continue.

"Well, I'm done now." She muttered. "You wanted me to come by?"

Dwight huffed, collecting a paper plate with a dinner roll from a table beside the door. Closing the room up and making his way down the hall, the strawberry blond beckoned for her to follow, a can of dog food in hand.

"I thought Arat mentioned a dog the other day," Harper said, nodding at the can. A vague memory of a can opener in Carl's hands and a furious Rick flashed before her eyes. "You own one?"

Dwight hesitated for a moment before replying.

"Something like that."

Hesitation littered in her stride, Harper took a moment to think before resuming her walk. While she was taller compared to most women, Dwight's longer legs outstepped her by an inch or two and left her rushing to match his pace. As they rounded a corner, another layer of confusion was added at the sight of an unfamiliar hallway.

"Where are we going?" Harper asked.

Dwight did not respond.

Marching towards a door at the end of the corridor, he locked his fist around the knob before taking a breath, giving Harper a cautionary stare.

"Glad you could make it." Negan called, walking towards the pair from his position against the wall. Giving Dwight the side eye, he flashed Harper a toothy smile. "And here I was, thinking you got lost. Should've known she's too smart for that."

Releasing a shaky breath, Harper gave a half-hearted smile. An awkward silence settled, and Negan glanced at Dwight before raising his brows.

"You got everything sorted out?" He asked.

The Saviour nodded. 

"Good." Negan said firmly. Bringing his bat to rest over a shoulder, the man nodded at the door. "Open her up."

Unlocking the door, the light-haired man held a grim expression before cracking it open. It was too dark to see anything, and Dwight's figure blocked most of Harper's view. The strong smell of urine and sweat wafted from inside, and she gagged. Shifting to the side, she stepped inside the room as the door fully opened, revealing a hunched, naked body in the corner. Peering up at her through oily locks of hair, Daryl squinted and shuffled closer to the wall. 

Eyes widening in alarm, Harper felt her stomach plunge at the sight of his recoiling form. A mixture of shame, relief and guilt flashed through Daryl's piercing blue hues before he looked at the ground, dark circles adding a gaunt and haunting affect to his usually tan skin. Shivering, the man wrapped his arms around his knees, freezing in the cramped metal room.

A sharp inhale stole all air from the room, lungs seizing as Harper's brain scrambled. After relying on her collected nature and restraint for so long, she found herself reeling when no thoughts would emerge. No rationalising, no justification. All she could feel was this blinding fire in her muscles, spreading through her veins. Throwing the roll lamely at the ground near Daryl's feet, Dwight rested his hand on the pistol in his pocket, equally wary of both their prisoner and the woman between them. Tension lined the air like tar, thick and suffocating.

"Now I know this might be a little surprising to see your old buddy locked up like this, but I wanted to show you just how merciful we are here," Negan explained.

Gaze fixed to a spot on the floor, Harper stomped the urge to spit in his face. 

"Merciful," she echoed, trying to remove the venom from her tone. There was a brief silence, and the dark-haired woman felt her lip twitch. Eyes finding Daryl's once again, she held his gaze with an unnerving intensity. Every part of her was screaming to help her friend, to reassure him that she had a plan.

"You should also know that this isn't an everyday occurrence," The Saviour continued, "the both of you are pretty damn lucky. I mean, some hothead redneck like Daryl here can't just land a few and get away with it. Normally we'd set an example with men like him."

Turning to face Harper's seething form, Negan smirked.

"And women like you, well... they normally end up being one of my wives," he said smugly, "but it really would be a waste to coop you up. Quite the markswoman as well as a smartass, I hear."

She could feel Negan's gaze lingering on her body, her skin crawling at the thought, but she couldn't rip her eyes away from Daryl's curled up form. Taking a step towards her, he came awfully close to her ear. The feeling of his breath down her neck repulsed her.

"People are a resource, Harper. I'm giving you an opportunity."

Lurching from the ground with little self-regard, Daryl grunted and moved to shove Negan away from her. Dwight intercepted the attack before Daryl's fists could land, pushing the weakened man to the floor and kicking him in the ribs. Jumping slightly, Harper felt her body recoil as Negan stepped to the side to watch. 

"Yer don't touch 'er." He yelled. Another kick was planted across his chest, sending a cough throughout his body. Curling into the foetal position, Daryl blocked the blows with his hands before another found purchase against his shoulder.

"Stop." Harper snapped. Teeth gritted, she forced herself between Dwight and Daryl's rapidly-bruising body.

"You reconsidering?" Dwight challenged. Something about his stance told Harper that he was eager to continue.

Scoffing, Harper glared, a faux confidence causing her to straighten her back and rip her eyes from the man on the ground. 

"I'm stopping you from making the situation worse."

"Bullshit." Dwight snapped, looming over her. "You're protecting him."

Shaking her head, Harper clenched her jaw. Planting herself firmly to the ground, she tried to appear menacing. 

"You're an idiot if you think I'd risk my life for him." Harper spat out. Regret already began to build in her stomach, dreading her next words. "That piece of shit killed my brother. If I had it my way, I'd be the one kicking."

Glare unfaltering, she took another step towards Dwight, poking him in the chest harshly as he took a step back. The movement seemed to confuse him, the Saviour taken aback at how quickly her demeanour had changed.

"But as Negan said, people are a resource. Do you want to waste medical supplies fixing broken ribs? You want to wait even longer for him to heal before you can put him to work?"

Turning to Daryl, Harper's anger turned into shame when she realised that he believed every word she had said. Expression faltering, she begged him to understand that this was all a lie. Looking away, Daryl couldn't look her in the eyes another moment, the guilt he felt ready to spill over. 

The sinking feeling in her gut worsened.

Adorning the fierceness in her stance, she looked to Negan and let out a breath.

"He's not worth it." She muttered.

With those words, Harper felt like someone had finished hammering the last nail in her coffin. A sense of sullen condemnation settled over her, clouding her mind. It made her feel like she had lost a piece of herself, finally crossing the line between who she now, and who she going to be. She couldn't let her guilt consumer her - she wouldn't. If she did, then it would all be for nothing. Glenn's death would be for nothing.

That, she feared, was worse than being stuck with these men for the rest of her life.

Negan's expression had transitioned from his usual smugness to that of eager surprise. Taking a deep breath, the man took a moment to think before nodding.

"I've just got one question for you," He said. "Who are you?"

Looking blankly at the floor, Harper's eyes fixated on a polaroid at her feet as she processed what she was seeing. Blinking, she assured herself that this time, the mix of gravel and blood was not a hallucination. It was a real, tactile thing, and someone had dared to take a picture.

She knew what she had to do.

"I am Negan."

︽

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This chapter was intense™. Don't be afraid to leave me feedback or anything else, I'd love to know your thoughts on the story so far, or where you think this is headed.