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

Sometimes these things just happen

Just so you know this chapter was never a rushed decision. This story was always supposed to be about real people, reflecting real lives and the hurt people go through. I've talked about all this on my tumblr page prior, so please take a look if you'd like. And thanks for reading. I adore you all and all the support you give me, always.

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In the days, or months, or even years that followed, Negan wouldn't recall how he made it down the stairs that night, with an unconscious Blake held in his leather-clad arms.

He wouldn't recall the stares he received from passing workers who stood back for him to pass as he streaked down the lengthy Sanctuary corridors, finally reaching the hallway on the first floor where the medical room was.

Nor did he recall first seeing Simon stood there, hands on hips, talking to Frankie outside said room, with medicine for Mia.

He would remember none of that.

All the tall, dark-haired man would remember was the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. The sound of his shallow breaths and the sight of her lying there, blood soaked through her jeans, leaving him with a wet streak of red across his otherwise clean white t-shirt.

The voices of a stunned looking Simon and Frankie echoed somewhere in the distance, but Negan could barely hear them now...his dark eyes angry and hurting as Carson quickly emerged from the doorway at the commotion outside.

And Negan didn't even have to say a word, before the strawberry blonde doctor swept Blake from Negan's strong arms carrying her quickly inside and beckoning Frankie to follow him.

But when Negan tried to go inside too, he was stopped by a yell from Carson, and Frankie closing the door hastily in his face.

And as the world started to resume its normal pace again, and Negan realised what was happening, he felt Simon's thick arms begin to ease him away.

"Come on, Boss, it's for the best, Carson knows what he's doing..." he heard his loyal right-hand man mutter into his ear.

But Negan, his eyes searching the now closed door, felt a sudden rage swell within him.

He twisted around, and threw Simon's arm from his shoulder.

"Get your damn hands off me Simon!" he roared, but the mustachioed man barely flinched, just letting out a heavy sigh at Negan's outburst.

Shit.

Shit.

The leader of the Saviours gave a hard gulp, bringing his hands up to his face, his heart pounding inside his chest...

...even when he closed his eyes all he could seem to see was her...lying there....in that ever widening pool of blood....

Negan scrunched his eyes tightly shut, willig the memory of that sight to fade.

But it didn't.

He could panic rising within him now.

Shit. If something happened to her, Negan didn't know what he would do...

How could he go on?

Thoughts and fears swirled inside him.

He was tired, exhausted, strained....

What the fuck was he going to do?

Negan began to pace that gloomy hallway, as Simon stood there beside him obediently, unmoving...not saying a word.

Hours slid by...

One after the other.

Negan could feel the passing of time ticking away inside him as he waited and waited and waited.