I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

The Visitor

It was a warm, hazy summer evening when Negan, grinning widely to himself, strolled in through the open gates of Alexandria.

"Oh Rick," he uttered in a cheerful voice, lifting his arms out wide, looking skyward. "Would you just look at this goddamn weather. Makes me wanna crack open a few cold ones, and throw a couple of steaks on the grill."

Negan glanced over to where the bearded Rick was stood, staring back at him with narrowed eyes, at this moment surrounded by his men who all looked pretty much as fucking defensive as he did.

"You're a week early," growled Rick back, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, obviously uncomfortable with Negan's, and the army of Saviours that came behind him, presence here.

Ok, even Negan had to admit that this was a pretty impromptu visit, even by his standards.

But today had been the last straw for him.

The dark-haired Saviour had spent the last few weeks, brooding around the looming factory he called home, growing ever more irritable at both his men, and the life he led there, as the days passed him by.

But that wasn't because he missed her, of course.

No. Negan had his wives. He had his followers. And there was no way he was letting down his guard enough to admit to anyone, that the only person he cared for had walked out on him, to come and live here.

But it was only this morning, as Negan beat the holy-hell out of one of his more faithful men with his barbed-wire covered baseball bat, that he had caught Simon's eye.

His usually supportive, right-hand man, looking slightly unsure and a little wary of Negan's actions.

And it was then, as the leader of the Saviours, black eyed and furious, had realised what he was doing, taking out his bad-temper and his frustration on those around him. And so he had breathed, run a hand down his bearded chin, before approaching his moustachioed friend.

He had marched up, standing level to Simon's shoulder, and huffed. "I'm thinkin' of takin' a little visit to see Rick and his gang of pricks. That sound like a good idea to you, Si?"

And Simon had just stared back at his commander, nodding, a twinkle of something in his eye, that told he Negan he knew exactly why he wanted to go back there. But he did not let on.

"Sounds like a great idea, boss," he had replied, with a knowing nod. And that had been that.

Two hours later they were on the road, with three large trucks and about twenty burly-looking men and women, upon Negan's command.

The dark-haired Saviour, gazed about confidently. He was now, in a far better mood than he had been earlier today, standing here now in the small sub-urban settlement.

His chocolate eyes flickered back over towards Rick, who was still stood there, resentment on his face.

"Who said that this wasn't just a social call, Rick?" said Negan swivelling around on the spot, turning on his heel abruptly and pointing Lucille at the man at his side. "Maybe I missed you and I wanted to come and visit, huh?"

But Rick just stared back at Negan, looking as insolent as ever, his lips curled up into a snarl.

"If it's guns you're lookin' for," said Rick staring Negan out for a second or two before lowering his eyes and shaking his head. "You took the last of them from us. We don't have any. You can check if you don't believe me-"

But Negan, his eyes widening with glee, hurriedly closed the gap between himself and Rick intimidatingly.

"Oh we fuckin' will check, Rick," he said in a hushed threatening tone, leaning into the brown-haired man, pressing his face close to his. "In fact...Arat-"