Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Dreams

"I'm sorry," I cried. Negan looked confused but concerned, standing up and walking around the side of his desk, the crease in his brow further proving his worried state.

"Sorry for what, doll?" His voice was soft but gravelly. He sat on the edge the dark wood as I took a few strides closer to him.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you," I stated. He seemed a bit shocked at my words. He opened his mouth to speak but I interrupted. "I did come home that day."

"Doll, what are you talking about?" he asked with a small chuckle.

"Negan, think," I said a bit harshly. "You're dreaming. You're in Alexandria right now. I went out with Daryl a few days ago and I was supposed to see you when I got back."

Negan took a moment and thought about this before realizing what was happening. He looked at me quizzically before saying, "You were supposed to be home three days ago."

"I know. I did come home."

"Well, what the fuck, then?"

Somberly, I closed my eyes and felt a few more tears slip past my lids. I let my head fall towards my torso, causing Negan's gaze to do the same. When I opened my eyes, I was met with my bloodied shirt, arms, and hands. Let him see what you want him to see. He wouldn't believe my words, he needed to see what happened.

"I didn't come home alive," I nearly whispered. Negan's eyes snapped up to meet mine. To my surprise, there were even tears in his.

"Doll, don't fucking kid around like that," he said. Denial. God, I can't deal with his, too. "Come on, doll, tell me it ain't fucking true." It pained me to watch a single tear slip out of the corner of his eye. "Dammit, Belle, what the fuck happened?"

"We were on our way back and I got shot. We don't know who it was."

Negan shut his eyes and put his head in his hands, messing up his normally slicked back hair. It hurt to see such a strong man break down like this. Especially someone like Negan. No one knew this side of him. I'd only ever seen him cry once before this and it was about his wife.

"What the fuck am I gonna do, doll?" he asked in a choked-out sob. "You made me a better man."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

I could see the frustration growing in his eyes. I was his only friend and I got taken so suddenly. I knew what it was like to lose someone you care about, especially when no one's told you for days that they're gone. Negan stood and began pacing slowly along the edge of his desk. His hands kept repeatedly clenching into fists while he sniffled every few seconds, trying to gain some type of composure. With an angry grunt, he harshly swiped the contents on his desk across the room.

"Negan," I said sternly, hoping to calm him down somehow.

"Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?" he shouted, turning back around to face me. The whites of his eyes were pink now.

"They don't know, Negan," I spoke slowly, making sure he actually heard the words I was saying. He and I were both aware that no one knew of our friendship. Rick wanted peace between the communities, so that's what we made. "How was anyone supposed to tell you anything when all they see you as is a prisoner?" Negan remained quiet, the sadness still so evident in his eyes. "They're grieving. We don't know what happened and they need time to process it."

"So that means I don't get to fucking grieve, either?"

"Don't be stupid. You're better than that." I sighed, running my hands through my hair before continuing. "I'm sorry you didn't know, but I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"How do I know if this is all real?" he asked.

"Ask for Siddiq," I said. "I want you to hear it from him."

***

I let go of Negan's head and watched him begin to stir. I stood from the bed as he sat upright, rubbing his eyes. I studied him as his eyebrows furrowed, probably remembering the dream he'd just woken up from, most likely questioning the reality of it all.

Gabriel walked in with food for him. He left it at the bottom of the bars like he normally did.

"Nothing to say this morning?" he tested. I rolled my eyes. Negan let out a small huff, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Gabe, can you get the doctor down here? I don't feel so good this morning." He's doing it. Gabriel gave him a questioning look for a moment before complying.

Within minutes, Siddiq entered the basement. He looked a bit nervous. From what I knew, he never had many encounters with Negan, but the few he had weren't pleasant.

"Hi," he started, "what seems to be the problem?"

Negan stood and slowly sauntered over to the prison bars, that powerful stride he had caused Siddiq to gulp.

"Nothing's wrong," he began, "but I wanted to ask you a question."

"Alright."

"Did you ever study psychology, Siddiq?" I looked at him with a confused look.

"Not a lot, actually. I took an intro class in high school but that's about it."

"You ever hear of Freud's theories about dreams? That they derive from the unconscious?"

"Sounds familiar," Siddiq nodded.

"Well, just about the craziest fucking thing happened last night, Siddiq. Belle was in my dream and she told me to talk to you."

"O-okay." Again, he nodded.

"What happened to her?" Siddiq remained silent for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, trying to find the right words. "No bullshit," Negan continued, "I need to know what happened."

"Daryl brought her in a few days ago. She had a gunshot wound to her abdomen. She bled out. She was dead before she got here."

Negan looked down, hit with the reality of the situation. Now he knew. My time with him was done.

"Can you get Rick?" Negan asked. Siddiq nodded before leaving the room.

Negan sat on his bed with his head in his hands, much like he did in his dream. The sight hurt just as much. He let his elbows rest on his knees, his hands gently clasped together while he waited for Rick to hear the news again. I sat beside him, wishing that there was a way I could make him feel alright. I placed my hand over his. What shocked me was that his eyes darted right to where my hand was lying. Could he feel me?

Rick entered the room and Negan sprung to his feet. Rick looked awful, to put it lightly. We've been together since Atlanta, and now he, Daryl, and Carol are the only ones left.

"Is it true?" Negan asked almost desperately.

"Is what true?"

"Is she dead?" Rick sighed and looked down, nearly on the verge of tears.

"Yeah," he huffed out, "it's true."

Negan sat back on his bed, the same way he was before Rick came. Reality began to hit him then. The grief radiating off both men was strong.

" 'M sorry," Negan mumbled.

"What's it to you?" Rick asked harshly. At this, Negan strode back to the bars, anger beginning to overpower the color of his eyes.

"I may have not known her like you," he spit, "but she was a great fucking person. She was just about the only fucking one who's held on to her humanity. You said you wanted peace and she fucking made it. She was a friend of mine, too, and it fucking hurts to know that she's gone. She should've made it out alive." Rick remained silent, taking all this in. Now Rick knew that I befriended the man who was once our enemy. "We all lost her, and it's a crying fucking shame. And I'm sorry that it happened." After a few moments of silence, Rick finally nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "And I'm sorry no one told you." Negan sat back down, leaning his head against the wall.

"They say the good always die young. Guess that's why you and I are still kicking." Rick chuckled lightly.

"So it would seem."