Sleep evaded Mal the whole night, much to her dismay. She couldn't even say she was surprised- there was too much to occupy her mind and keep it reeling and restless. The news that Lugh and Alec had brought them about the Calvary Boys would have been more than enough on its own to make her lose sleep, but after what happened with Negan- and after she'd told Negan to leave- she knew there wasn't a chance of her getting any rest.

She couldn't let herself think about the Calvary Boys, Calvin- couldn't, she insisted whenever her thoughts began to stray in that direction. If she allowed herself to start obsessing over what-if scenarios, she would end up waking up the corridors and calling them all to arms at four in the morning just to ease her anxious thoughts. Instead, as she lay curled on her side on the bed, staring out the window at the darkened sky, the only thing she let herself think about was Negan.

She missed him. It was just one night, but she already missed the man's warm, strong, safe presence curled up on the bed beside her. There was a part of her- a very large part of her, in fact- that wanted nothing more than to make her way across the hallway and crawl into bed with Negan again. But she didn't- felt like she couldn't, because all of the sweetness and safety that she felt in the other man's presence was now confused by the glaring, obvious factor that Mal had managed to completely forget about in her pursuit of the other man: sex.

It had been...it had been unexperienced situation. She never thought about it, even as hormones kicked in. It was well over a thing she never considered as an important thing for her in the Ruins, and after Charlie she hadn't even thought about it. That whole section of her mind had been quarantined off, deemed too unsafe to explore. Now she wondered how long she would have let herself stay closed off to that kind of desire if it hadn't come up between her and Negan like this. Even before Charlie, she doesn't have any time to touch herself- she'd been trained, on the road with the RK's and the kids after the Flyer Frontiers fell, and being out there, fighting for basic things like food and shelter and safety, her focus hadn't been on that.

For a moment, Mal wondered if that part of her was just gone entirely now- if there would ever be a way for her to enjoy herself and another person like that without the memory of Charlie's assault creeping in to taint it. She abhorred the thought that the man could still hold that much power over her even when he was dead and gone by Mal's own hands. She wanted more than that- she wanted to want Negan, wanted to be able to lose herself in that kind of delirious pleasure again. She wanted to try, at least. She didn't know if she was ready for it, if she ever would be, but she wanted to at least try. It would be an exercise in faith, testing how far her trust in Negan went, but as Mal watched the orange of the sunrise start to crack the night sky, she knew that she had to at least talk about it. She couldn't take another night of being alone and unsure in her bed. Even if she couldn't do it- even if Negan left her because of it, he needed to know.

-:-:-:-:-

When Negan walked into the kitchen in the morning, Mal was already awake and rinsing dishes in the sink. It must be later than she usually got up, he realized- Mal was more of an early riser, and the last couple days he'd depended on the other to be the one to get his tired ass out of bed. The realization that he had already started to form such a routine with Mal left a sad pang ringing through his chest.

Max was nowhere to be seen, but AJ was still in his high chair at the table, happily eating away at a Cheerios. Negan hovered awkwardly by the counter, pouring himself a bowl of not-too-stale cereal to distract himself from the air of unease.

"So, ah. The kids already leave?" He asked conversationally, trying to keep things light.

Mal made an affirmative noise as she shut off the water and dried her hands. "Yeah. You just missed Max. He actually volunteered to make bullets with Jimmy and the others went out to garden and train." The note of pride in Mal's voice was unmistakable, and it pulled a smile out of Negan.

"That's good. That's real fucking good," Negan said around a mouthful of cereal. Mal met his eyes for a moment, and Negan couldn't decide between trying to hold his gaze or dropping his eyes. The memory of last night- of the fear and hurt on Mal's face, came back to him all at once and made his decision for her. He stared into the depths of his bowl. Frosted Flakes were much less enjoyable to look at than Mal.

There was a long minute of silence, and for once Negan didn't know what the hell to fill it with. He scarfed his breakfast and rinsed his bowl, the quiet worming its way under his skin and making him itch. He was about to move away when Mal caught his wrist, holding tight.

"I-" she started, her voice tight. "I'm sorry. About last night. I didn't...I shouldn't have told you to leave like that, I know you didn't mean- that you weren't..." Mal trailed off, and Negan met her eyes then to see the torn, anxious expression there.

"Mal, no. Fuck, baby, you don't need to fucking apologize to me. You didn't do anything wrong, fuck-" he shook his head, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. "It wasn't your fault, Mal. Wasn't anyone's fault. I just need you to know that I don't- that I wouldn't, not ever, not if you weren't one-hundred-and-fifty-fucking-percent okay with it-"

Mal squeezed his wrist tightly, the pad of her thumb brushing Negan's knuckles. "I know," she murmured. "I know that. It wasn't that I thought you would- I just panicked. I haven't thought about that- never, Negan. And I just... I wasn't expecting it. It's been so long and after what happened I feel like I just closed that part of myself off and I- I really didn't have to think about it until last night."

"I'm sorry, Mal," Negan said hoarsely. "Really, I-"

Mal shook her head, gently lacing their fingers together. "It's okay. Really. Like you said, it wasn't anyone's fault. It happened. I just needed to tell you that it doesn't change anything. How I feel about you. I can't- I can't guarantee that that's something I can jump right into, Negan. I want you to know I want that with you- I do, but I don't know if I can."

"Mal. If you don't want to do this, we're not gonna do it, okay? I never want you to fucking feel like...like you have to. Especially not with me. Because you don't. You don't have to today, or tomorrow, or any other day. Hell, Mal, if you never want to, I'd be okay with it."

Mal's eyes widened, blue and infinitely deep. "You can't mean that, Negan."

"I most certainly fucking do, Mal. If you never want that, it's okay." And he meant it- Mal's companionship, her warmth and strength and loyalty were worth more than that. He'd gone a long time without anyone- without friendship, without love. As much as he wanted Mal, he'd keep going without the first one as long as Mal still wanted him by his side.

"Because you'd find it somewhere else," Mal said quietly, and Negan's whole body seized up in rejection of the statement.

"Wh- fuck, what the fuck, Mal? No! No, not because I'd find it somewhere else. I want to have sex with you, Mal, but if you never get to the point where you want it, I'm still gonna be here. You and me, right? I'm with you. I love you, Mal. I fucking love you. And I'm gonna keep fucking loving you whether or not we ever have sex, whether or not you want me to give you your space or if- if you want to call whatever this is between us off." He reached out then, hand hovering, and when Mal pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand, Negan felt his chest tighten almost painfully. "I love you," he whispered again, because he felt like he couldn't say it enough.

Mal's eyes shone then- bright, glistening, her face ardent in a way that Negan knew reflected the adoration on his own. When Mal leaned up and drew herself in close, when her lips found Negan's in a kiss that was far too gentle for Negan to feel like he'd been brought to his knees, he felt like a drowning man being saved.

"I love you, too."

-:-:-:-:-

Lugh and Alec were far down the road down northeast. Alec'd just gotten back from a run and wanted a team to come with him as a he found something.

Lugh glanced at Alec, concentrating. He looked damn fine. His loping stride made Lugh's heart flutter as they walked beside each other had a backpack on one shoulder, and his crossbow on the other. He was absolutely filthy, head to toe. He had matted hair, his low slung pants were covered in mud, and a mist of dried blood speckled his skin.

They walked for miles under the cool weather. Lugh followed Alec as he tried to find tracks, small footprints. He and Lugh had their radios where two trucks cut off the roads; their mission was to find the Calvary Boys, and Alec is a great tracker and the boys weren't not secretly good at hiding their tracks. Leaves ruffled upside up, soil printed by heavy soled roper shoes and boots.

"You think we'll find him?"

"Don't worry. These tracks aren't good. We've got it covered." He gave Lugh a reassuring smile and kissed his forehead. Lugh smiled. He knew thought he would ever find someone to love, and Alec was the one. Alec started to open up more, he secretly kept their relationship low and unannounced, too denial in the past of what Alec told him that torn him to a harsh, asshole man- according to Alec's words. Just a month after the destruction of the KillGames, it was Alec declaring their relationship, which Lugh was surprised since he's the one who's more nervous and shy than him.

They headed to the farm road by a curve in the creek: four lanes and both shoulders, cars slammed, smashed together, rolled off highways in the tall grass beside the road, and an army helicopter that Lugh identified as a UH-60 Black Hawk lay crashed in the meadow that ran along the road, the huge propeller blades broken and twisted and hung with creepier vines. Lugh wondered how the chopper had come to crash. Had one of the crew been infected? Were they airlifting victims and took the wrong kind? Or had they run out of fuel and were too far from home? Maybe it had been caught by the EMP. There was no way to know, as no matter what had brought the powerful machine down, it stood as a monument to war in which technology and sophistication had served no purpose, had ultimately accomplished nothing.

After walking across the road and back into the ditch, Alec caught Lugh off guard with a kiss.

Their eyes locked, and Lugh smiled huge. Alec blushed bright and smiled at his feet. He walked right up to Lugh.

"Hey," Alec said. Then he kissed him. Right there. It wasn't anything more than a peck, and his face had turned red because of it, but still. Alec kissed him, not even caring. Lugh's smile hurt his cheeks.

"Hey, stop. Someone might see." Lugh said, hoping he would obey.

"Who? It's only us, Lugh."

And that's when they heard the gunshots.

When the first shot cracked through the air, Alec stood straight and looked away to the northeast. When Lugh heard the second shot, he turned his head slightly more to the north.

"Handgun," he said. "Heavy caliber. Three miles."

Alec nodded. "Those bullets didn't travel far. They're shooting at something close an' hitting it. C'mon," he set off in the direction of the gunshot echoes, "let's go see what they're shooting at."

Lugh followed as quickly. Alec picked up the pace. They followed a stream down to the lowlands. As they followed, their path angled toward the stream. Alec stopped for a moment and then shook his head in disapproval. "Not bright," he said, not explaining his comment and Lugh understood. Whoever they were, they were not at least concerned for anyone to follow the gun shots or Infected to find them.

As they moved, they were close to where they thought the gunshots were being fired.

Alec stopped and cocked his head to listen. He put a finger to his lips and gestured for Lugh to remain still. They were in a field of tall grass, which led to a dense stand of birch trees. From beyond the trees they could hear the spun of men laughing and shouting, and the occasional hollow crack of a pistol shot.

"Better take a look up those trees." Lugh whispered.

"Wanna make the call?"

"I'm gonna go up there, see and signal you if it's them and confront them. Call the others are spot now."

Alec wasted no time to call on the radio, before as Lugh moved as quick and quiet, but his wrist were caught. "I rather go there. Not you."

He shook his head, smiling at the burly tough man being protective like a teddy bear. He padded his stubbled cheek, grazing over his rough chapped lips. "You're with me about couple yards. I'll be fine."

Then he moved as quick and quiet as a sudden breeze, vanishing into the tall grass. He moved slowly as the grass covered upon his waist, shifting his position in time with the fluctuations of the wind. He entered the trees, and Lugh could more easily hear the laughter of the men. No, their voices were a bit high and sounded drunk. Then he heard the whinny of a horse.

A horse?

The trees thinned, and Lugh hunkered down. The screen before him was something out of nightmare. Even as Lugh seen many things, a part of his mind was whispering to him that he would never forget what he was seeing. He could feel every detail being burned into his brain.

Beyond the trees was a cleaning bordered on two sides by switchbacks of the deep stream. The stream vanished around a sheer sandstone cliff that rose thirty feet above the tree line and reappeared on the opposite side of the clearing. Only a narrow dirt path led from the trees in which Lugh crouched to the spit of land framed by stream and cliff. It was a natural clearing that have the men a clear view of the approaches on all sides. A big horse stood in the shade thrown by the birch trees. In a big dirt pile was piled high with Infected that squirmed and writhed in a hopeless attempt to flee or attack. Hopeless, because it was a growing pile of served arms and legs. The Infected in the pile were limbless crippled.

A dozen other Infected milled by the sandstone wall of the cliff, and every time one of them would lumber after one of the people, it was driven back by a vicious kick. It was clear to Lugh that two of the men knew some kind of fighting skills. The more dynamic the kick. The more the others laughed and applauded. As Lugh listened, he realized who the men were, seeing their slim and toned bodies were not the size of a adult; they were young adults like Lugh. Their heads are stubbled of ruffed hairs, only wearing wool sweaters and winter jackets open with spray painted symbol behind their backs that read C.B.

They are the Calvary Boys.

One- Nash- stepped up to confront a Infected, the others would name kick. The boys shouted bets to one another and then rated the kicks for points.

The Infected had little hope of any effective attack. They were clustered on a narrow and almost water-locked section of the clearing. Far worse than that, each and every one of them blind. Their eye sockets were oozing masses of torn flesh and almost colorless blood. Lugh looked at the Infected on the pile and saw that they were all blind as well.

The standing Infected were all battered hulks, barely able to stay on their feet, and it was clear that this game had been going on for a while. Lugh knew the Infected were already dead, that they couldn't feel pain or know humiliation, but what he saw seared a mark on his soul.

"That one's 'bout totally messed up!" Yelled the eye patched. "Load him up."

"Okay," said Scar, "what're the numbers?" He picked up a sword with a heavy curved blade.

"Denny did his four cuts in three point one second," said Slit Throat.

"Oh, hell... I got that beat. Time me."

Eye-Patch dug a stopwatch out of his pocket. "Ready. Steady... Go!"

Scar rushed toward the closet Infected- a teenage boy who looked like he'd been about Max's age when he died. The blade swept upward in a glittering line that sheared through the Infected's right arm at the shoulder, and then checked his swing and sliced down to take the other arm. Instantly he pivoted and swung the sword laterally and chopped through both legs, an inch below the groin. The Infected toppled to the ground, one leg, against all odds, remained upright.

They all burst out laughing.

"Time!" Yelled Eye-Patch, and read the stopwatch. "Holy crap, Scar. That's two point nine-nine seconds!"

"And three cuts!" Shouted Scar. "I did it in three cuts! Better than Ryes!"

They howled in laughter, and Ryes squatted down, wrapped his skinny arms around the limbless Infected's torso, picked it up with a grunt, and carried it over to the pile. "At least I cut all parts." And the boys laughed.

God, what made them this way? Lugh knew seen them act this way. They've done reckless acts as bringing a herd into a hunting trip, killing people and taking children to a slaughter house, but this was sick and sad at the same time. The boys were careless, drunk, and they did it for fun and wasting time. All looked wary and sick and tired, especially poor Ryes who's eyes are red, black sockets of tiredness, his bones are pronounced in his pale skin and even under his winter garments. They had no where to go, and where is Calvin and why did he failed his group, Lugh questioned.

He reframed his position, counting the time has passed, how long he should wait, when the Saviors coming, and if Alec has sight on him. Eventually, he crawls down the cliff to the scene. Gently and careful footing, he walks delicately, edging close by a dead log and crouches down to blend in.

"Lugh!" Called a voice. A very familiar voice. "Lugh. I know you're up there behind one of those trees. Don't make me have to walk all the way up."

Lugh stepped out from behind the log. "Magnus."

Magnus grinned at him with bloody teeth. "My, my. What a surprise. Lose your hardware."

Lugh sneered. Then Slit Throat put a bullet in the dirt between his feet. The smoking barrel of the gun offered no option for debate. He removed knives, two throwing ax's, and a pistol. But he kept his long Bowie dagger in the back of his pant waist.

"Kick them away. Good. Man, we never thought to see you again."

"You boys looks worse than ever."

Magnus snorted. "What's up to you? Those Saviors have been on our asses for awhile.

"And they are. Because you were involved with the KillGames. From the looks of it, you guys make it in a mile on your conditions and playing games with the Infected is wasting energy. How about an offering?"

They stared at him longily then listened to his offer.

"Straight exchange. I take you to the Sanctuary, walk in and confess your crimes and be convicted in prison for life. We'll feed you, clean you, and medicine you in a jail cell. You won't have to die for your punishments."

"Says who?"

"Says me. Saviors. Negan. I can explain to them about it. Ryes." He asks him, and Ryes eye's blow up, his features are void in fright but trying to stand up and be strong. "You don't have to do this. You know what would happen."

"No! Ryes stays with us," said Magnus. "You ain't leaving us like Calvin."

And suddenly Slit Throat made a move. He kicked Lugh and charged forward in a powerful tackle. Lugh spun, knowing he was charging, pivoting his hips. Lugh drew his dagger in a