Aven stormed up the stairs towards her and Negan's room, fuming at his nerve. He never talked to her like that, or at least he hadn't in the weeks since they'd grown inseparable; she wasn't subordinate like everyone else and she refused to be treated that way. When she reached the bedroom door she tensed thinking about how much time she'd had to spend in that room in the previous days. It was too early to turn in for the night and she still needed more time not confined. She opened the door and slipped inside for a moment only to get her sweatshirt before heading back out the door and up towards the roof.
Once outside, she put her hood up and dragged her tired body over to a large vent protruding from the roof. She leaned back against the cold metal and slid down so she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest. The sun had set over an hour ago and the air cooled in the darkness, the brisk autumn wind making it even colder, but Aven didn't mind. It just felt good to be outside, and it felt good to be alone in the vast, open space. She didn't realize how much she'd missed the peaceful solitude, even though she now couldn't bear the thought of being away from Negan.
It was completely quiet except for the occasional pop of gunfire or an indistinguishable call from the Saviors clearing walkers and preparing to move out. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the vent, savoring the chilly wind on her skin and momentarily clearing her mind for the first time in weeks. She still had vague, tight aches in her stomach and her head felt balloon-light, not to mention the stitches in the crook of her neck weren't difficult to agitate. She felt like a useless mess and she just wanted to be back on her feet for good.
Her peaceful moment was shattered by her own thoughts racing back and she could feel herself getting angrier and angrier at Negan. She knew he treated her better than anyone else at the Sanctuary (possibly better than anyone else ever) but she wasn't about to settle for allowing him to order her around unconditionally. He hadn't said much to offend her, but what he did say and the tone in which he said it wasn't something she cared to be subjected to. Yes, she told him she belonged to him, but she didn't belong to him...and if he thought she did, then they had a problem. Negan was the type of person who did the extent of what he could get away with; that's what he'd done when he cheated on Lucille and it's what he was doing now as a tyrannical leader. She needed to make it clear what he couldn't get away with like she'd done when he'd blamed her for Daryl's escape.
She was growing angrier at herself too because Negan was right: she apparently couldn't be trusted not to make stupid decisions that could get her killed. She thought she was smarter than to run out into a fight she couldn't handle, and at one time she definitely was, but that day proved to her she'd lost her touch. Ever since the day Negan found her in the woods, the day she left her bag by the road and gave away her position, she'd been making questionable decisions based on emotions towards Negan, the worst arguably being shooting one of his wives in the head without a second thought (although she found that incident concerned her very little in the grand scheme of things).
Her pride was getting in the way and it made her ineffective. She felt she personally needed to help Negan all the time but, unlike in the past, had to force herself to remember what she logically could and couldn't accomplish as one particularly small person, especially now in her weak condition. She was furious at herself for doing something that made Negan's concerns completely justified; he was right to want her somewhere else but she wasn't interested in being anywhere unless he was there. Or at least she hadn't been interested until she'd had time to stew over his attitude.
She began to realize maybe she could use some time away, time to come back to herself without Negan coddling her or ordering her around. She was becoming complacent and she didn't like it. The thought of being away from Negan terrified her, partially because she worried he'd be killed before she could ever see him again, but as she calmed down, she realized he was right. The outpost was the better place for her to be at the moment. It was safer and it's where the doctor would be. But it didn't have Negan and if she lost him while she was away, she'd never forgive herself.
They'd only known each other for a month and their relationship had progressed quickly because everything was moving faster in the new world. Death could be imminent for anyone on any given day; there wasn't time to take it slow. Negan must have narrowly escaped death hundreds of times before he even met her and she knew he couldn't keep pulling it off forever. Before him, she had no one, by choice. By falling for him and making the decision to stay, she set herself up to only care about one thing and now he felt like her only root in any sort of happiness. She essentially shot herself in the foot but had no intention of removing the bullet and tending to the wound.
She went back and forth between logic and desire. Every bit of her intuition was telling her to stay but she scolded herself for letting her emotions get to her so strongly. Ultimately she made her decision and knew she had to leave until the Sanctuary was safe. But if she was going, she was going on her own terms, not because Negan willed it to be so. There was still an argument to be had and he wasn't going to win it.
She needed something to eat and finally, after half an hour, stood back up and made her way inside, rubbing her cold hands together for warmth. She proceeded down a few sets of stairs and across an empty floor to another set of stairs, when she started to hear what sounded like shouting coming up through the Sanctuary. As she made her way further downstairs, she could hear it was Negan's booming voice calling her name, apparently unable to find her. He's about to overreact, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes and hastening her walk but being extra careful on the stairs through her light-headedness. When he sounded close enough, she called back to him.
"Chill out, I'm coming down!" she shouted. She hurried down three more flights of narrow metal stairs and found him in an empty corridor.
"Doll, what the fuck happened?" he asked, out of breath when they finally met in the middle the hallway.
"What do you mean?" she replied. "Sorry I didn't tell you but I needed to get some air-"
"You were outside?" His eyes practically popped out of his head and she didn't understand the anger in his voice.
"On the roof. It's fine." She began walking down the hall, motioning with her head for him to follow, but he pulled her back to stand in place, gripping her shoulders firmly.
"What the fuck were you doing on the fucking roof?!"
"Getting some air!" She was growing agitated with him. She couldn't even do such a simple gesture as stepping outside in an empty area without him worrying and treating her like a child.
"I said I didn't want you out of my fucking sight!" His domineering tone hadn't changed.
"That was before you fucking tried to use your wives as a reason I owe you."
"I didn't mean that," he muttered, his tension softening slightly.
"Didn't think you did. Still mad about it." Of course he'd hoped the argument would work but the moment it left his mouth he realized she was too stubborn, rightfully so, to respond to such obvious bullshitting. And as he suspected, she saw right through his words to their point, which was that he was trying anything he could think of to force her without force. It was almost intimidation and she'd never responded favorably to intimidation.
"Don't change the fucking subject," he sighed, having meant for this to be a conversation about her actions.
"What is the fucking subject?!" she asked, exasperated, her headache rising in her temple again. She pulled away from his grasp and stepped back to glare up at him.
"Why didn't you tell me where you were going and why were you on the fucking roof?"
"Because I'm mad at you and because," she took a dramatic breath and spoke slowly and loudly, "I needed to get some air," she said for the third time.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking idiot. I'm still fucking in charge here."
"Well don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child!" she spat. "What the fuck did you think I was doing up there anyway?" Negan's eyes burned into hers as he reeled his anger back in, his lips set in a tense line as he thought back to that morning when she had said she wanted to kill herself. She took it back immediately and didn't truly mean it, but he didn't quite trust that. It was still a conversation they needed to have and he was hoping to have it before her safety was out of his immediate control. But now wasn't the time. He broke their eye contact by running a gloved hand over his eyes, sighing heavily before pulling her against him and hugging her tightly.
"Just don't do that again," he mumbled, his voice muffled against the top of her head. He wasn't sure what he'd thought but after everything that happened and came to light that day, there were too many possibilities of why it might be hard to find her. He'd only been searching the massive building for about fifteen minutes but there were only so many places she could be, especially with several sectors being without power.
Aven wrapped her arms around his waist and held him just as tightly. She was still mad and knew they'd continue their argument about the outpost any moment now, but being in his arms felt good nonetheless. After all, aside from how he'd spoken to her, she was only upset because she wanted to be near him.
"Let's fuckin' talk, doll," he sighed, taking her hand and leading her to a stairwell where they sat side-by-side. "I didn't mean it when I said you owe me; I shouldn't have even fuckin' gone there but I got frustrated and said something I didn't mean hoping it might make you listen. That was wrong but I still need you to go.
"No, Negan," she asserted. She'd already decided to go but needed him to see it wasn't because of his aggressive effort. "You can't just tell me what to-"
"Please just hear me out," he said. "I can't fucking focus if you're not safe. I don't want you to go but I need you to. We have a much stronger defense there and you need to stay with Carson just in case."
"Maybe I'd be more open to the idea if you had talked it over with me instead of trying to keep me in my room and forcing me last-minute," she retorted. "Why are you keeping me away from everything? I want to be part of this, I want to help."
"I'm sorry I didn't fucking tell you but you're recovering and you can't have anymore stress-"
"What are you, a fucking therapist?" she spat. "Life is fucking stressful. I'm healing and I feel better when I'm busy so why are you still trying to keep all the plans under wraps?"
"Because I don't want you to be part of this," he asserted desperately. "I want to win this fucking war and get on with our lives."
"Why does everyone keep calling it a war?" she groaned. "It's only war if the opponent can't be crushed in one blow." Negan draped his arm over her and squeezed her shoulder, giving a small, guilty smile. He was still going to try to keep her away from the conflict but at this point he couldn't possibly hide what was happening.
"I...may or may not have officially declared war while you were unconscious from blood loss."
"You...declared war?" she asked incredulously. "What the fuck does that even mean?!"
"It means we're going to use all the force necessary to get what we want...more so than usual."
"Negan, we have a full armory, a bullet maker, and a fucking shed full of explosives. Once we take Alexandria out, it's over." Negan went silent, his jaw tight as he tried to choose his words carefully. Aven looked up at him suspiciously and seemed to immediately understand his hesitation. "You're not going to let them live, are you?" she breathed disappointedly.
"People are resources," he said quietly.
"Not those people!" She rose to her feet, beginning to pace in the small stairwell. "At this point they've cost us way more than they've benefited us! I thought you were going to fucking take them out!"
"Well I don't know what gave you that idea. You know where I stand on dealing with the other communities."
"So you're going to let them live? Let Rick live? He won't fucking stop until he's dead anyway. And Rosita..." Aven stopped pacing and caught eye contact with him, a look of near betrayal in her eyes. "I thought you wanted her dead as much as I do."
"Hey, she is the fucking first to die," he growled, standing up himself and looming over her. "Don't you dare think for a fucking second I'd let her get away with hurting you."
"She hurt me because she felt empowered to because Rick has them thinking they're a bunch of fucking guerrilla heroes!"
"She hurt you to get to me," he corrected. "Aven, just listen. I don't know if you really think staying here is the better thing to do but I think you're smart enough to know it's not."
"Right, I'm only smart if I do what you say." She knew that wasn't what he was trying to say, but the continued implication of him always being right was enough to earn a snarky response.
"I'm glad you're getting your energy back," he groaned sarcastically at her characteristically feisty response. "This is what's best and you're going even...even if I have to fucking force you." There was a long silence as they glared each other, Negan wondering if there was any way he could force her without crossing the line.
"If you're wondering if forcing me into a truck would count as putting your hands on me in a way I won't tolerate, it would," she said steadily. He was taken aback by her accurate guess at his thoughts but his expression was unwavering.
"Then don't fucking make me force you." They continued to stare each other down for what felt like several moments before Aven spoke again.
"Fine, I'll go," she growled finally, glaring up at him. She wanted the conversation to be over. She knew what the outcome would be but didn't want to give him any satisfaction from it. "I need some fucking time away from you."
With that, she brushed past him and made her way down the stairs towards their bedroom. He stayed rooted in place, her words having cut like daggers. All he was trying to do was what would be best for her. Had he done something to warrant those words? Was she having doubts about her life with him?
----------------------------------------
Negan arrived back in their room hours later after Aven had turned out the lights and gone to bed, though she wasn't actually asleep. In the moonlight coming through the window Negan could see she'd packed the same large backpack he'd packed for her when she was going to leave the first time. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped under the covers with her but she moved away when he reached out to pull her close, obviously wide awake.
"You leave at 10 tomorrow," he muttered with a deep, tired voice.
"Did you change it to 10 because you wanted to spend time with me?" she asked flatly.
"Yup," he said, a warm grin evident in his voice as he thought she was about to soften.
"You can change it back to 8." His face dropped.
"Don't be a fucking bitch," he growled quietly. "You leave at 10 and we're spending the extra fucking time together." He tried again to pull her close to him but she swatted him away.
"Don't touch me." He huffed in desperation and frustration but pulled back and stared at the back of her head through the darkness. They both lay awake on their sides facing the same direction, more than a foot between them on the bed. Negan knew she still hadn't fallen asleep and was listening for any hint of emotion in her quiet, steady breaths. Aven was just trying not to start crying again.
She didn't want to leave but she didn't want to stay and become subservient and detached from the dangers of the outside world. She didn't like rejecting Negan but she didn't want him to think he truly had any control over her in the end of the day. She loved him too much to let him go and feared she'd allow him to treat her as badly as he felt comfortable with. It felt like letting him hold her in that moment would just encourage him to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
It became harder and harder to hold back her tears, and then even harder yet because she couldn't turn to him for comfort, and they went spilling down her face but she kept her breath calm at first. But the pressure of her suppressed sobs built up and after a few minutes she broke ever so slightly, her breath hitching once almost unnoticeably, but Negan heard, still keenly focused on her.
"Are you crying?" he asked softly, breaking the long silence.
"No."
"Are you unhappy with me?" he asked after another long silence.
"I will be if it turns out I don't have a say about what happens in my life."
"Do you feel trapped again?"
"Right now..." she began hesitantly, her voice quiet and steady but sad, "yeah, I do."
Hearing that nearly broke his heart. He wanted to give her everything that had been taken away from her and then some, but instead it seemed he was just making her feel like he was taking more and more for himself. Taking. That's exactly what he didn't want to do with her, what he thought he wasn't doing by keeping her safe. He was trying so hard and somehow fucked it all up with one disagreement. He was at a loss for words and didn't know what else he could possibly do so he tried desperately one last time to reach out for her.
She pulled away and the room fell silent again. It was the quietest night they'd ever had together; for once they were not lying close enough to be lulled to sleep by one another's heartbeat.