Negan - Still Breathing (Part 1)

Bittersweet Tidings

The time was 7:30am. The sky radiated with a violet glow. Blood-orange stripes stretched over the treetops. Birds chirped like a chorus, announcing the dawn of a new day. You sat in a chair by the window, attempting to write a letter with your left hand. Struggling to make the words look legible, you carefully dotted your I's and crossed your T's.

Dear Rick, you wrote on a piece of floral stationary. Then, you added, and Daryl and Carol and Carl. The fingers on your left hand were straining. I regret not giving you earlier notice, but I must leave. There are matters of great importance that I must attend to. If we cross paths again, I'll explain everything. Your script was sloping on the paper. Shaking your head, you silently cursed your horrible handwriting. You wished you were ambidextrous. Thank you for helping Gio and me. I will never forget your kindness. A sigh rushed through your lips as you thought of Rick's warm smile. And if you find yourselves in trouble in the future, head south. You might run into me. Nodding as you read over the message, you signed: Jackie (aka No-Name). You reviewed your penmanship...it looked like fucking Comic Sans on LSD. It was dreadful. But it was still comprehensible, or so you hoped. Folding the letter in half, you left it on your bed and rushed out the door. Your legs were still wobbly, but you tread with care; heel to toe, heel to toe.

Gio was preparing for the journey ahead. He tossed your bag and a few medical supplies into the back seat. Tucking Lucille into the trunk, he turned to you. "Did we have to leave this early?" he asked, slamming the trunk shut.

The air was chilly, and you could see your foggy breath. "Sorry, but yes. We're better off without all the questions and goodbye's."

"I know, you're not one to be delayed by the mushy stuff," he chuckled and slid into the driver's seat.

You reached into your bag and retrieved your Camels and your lighter. Settling into the passenger's seat cautiously, you lit a cig. It was your first one in a few days, and the lovely head rush washed over you. Sighing in contentment, you looked at Gio, "We should be there by noon. Maybe a bit before, if we're quick about it. No rest stops."

"I don't have the bladder of an infant," he laughed and put the keys into the ignition. The engine sputtered and roared. You exited through the back gates, and headed for the highway.

Tearing through the crisp November air, the speedometer rose to 75 miles per hour. You blew smoke out the window and it swirled into the towering pines. You were silent, at first, conversing with your own thoughts. Were you happy to be going back to The Sanctuary? Of course, you were. Were you hesitant to tell Negan about your wild quest? Absolutely. Did you want to see the look on his face when you handed him Lucille? Definitely. But were you afraid he'd find out about your encounters with Rick and his group? YES. Your impending return contained a mixture of happiness and fear. Don't be such a worry-wart, you thought, relaxing your tense shoulders. Enjoy this homecoming. You can bring up your concerns after a few hugs and some drinks.