GODDAMN I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. I know Negan is a bad guy and all - AND HE KILLED GLENN - but boy do I have a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome. I mean, who doesn't love a good bad guy?

Anyway, the idea for this chapter just came to me a few days ago, and I got to writing it as fast as possible so I wouldn't lose the inspiration. This being said, please forgive any writing mistakes you might see. I hope Negan isn't too OOC here, because shit he is really hard to write. Kudos to those who can perfectly portray him in fanfiction!

Enjoy. :)

Negan propped Lucille over his shoulder. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he sauntered out of the compound, Dwight trailing behind him. One of Lucille's claws bit into the scarf around his neck. He didn't mind.

He had been looking over Sanctuary's records when Simon radioed him, said that they'd caught a woman, a straggler, trying to sneak into Sanctuary. Under different circumstances, Negan wouldn't have given a shit whether they found a naked guy in the woods. They'd bring anyone and everyone to him either way. But Simon had mentioned a very interesting piece of evidence that had come with the straggler they'd caught, and it had been enough to bring Negan outside.

Simon had her strawberry blonde hair in his fist. He had forced her to her knees right in front of the main entrance of the factory. The fence rattled behind them as walkers gripped the chain links with soggy, bloody hands. The noise carried all throughout the courtyard, resulting in a very grim atmosphere.

Nevertheless, Negan managed a sardonic grin. "Well, well, well," he said. "What the fuck do we have here?"

Simon didn't answer. He knew that Negan knew, and Negan walked towards the girl like a lion stalking its prey. When he was standing directly in front of her so she was practically staring down at his feet, he brought Lucille down and beneath her chin, tilting her head up.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he remarked. And it was true. Beneath all the blood, sweat and grime was a neatly-shaped nose, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Not delicate-looking, but that was the last thing Negan was expecting. Simon had found her alone. And weak people wouldn't have survived alone.

One of Lucille's barbs dug into the soft skin of her throat, drawing blood. She didn't flinch. Negan looked down at her tawny, dark eyes, and he grinned. He was going to enjoy this very much.

He removed Lucille from under her chin and swung the bat back over his shoulder. "Simon here tells me that you were trying to sneak over our fence. Killed one of my men doing so too. You must have been either mighty fucking desperate or mighty fucking stupid to do something like that. Now, you don't strike me as stupid, doll, so let's say you were fucking desperate."

"You could say that." She shrugged in a very intimidated manner, and Negan grinned.

"So she does speak!"

And she had a husky voice, either from dehydration or that was just the way she naturally sounded, but she sounded fucking hot. He could imagine her voice saying other things, of a subject very very different from what they were talking about – dirty things.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Clearing his throat, he began circling her, making sure to keep his strides long and purposeful so as to keep her on her toes. She was so fucking tense.

"If you were looking for a place to stay, sweetheart, you could have just knocked. I mean, we don't resort to killing unless we absolutely fucking need to." He placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt when she turned her head and fixed him with a disbelieving glare. "You don't believe me?"

Her eyes flickered to Lucille, and his smile only widened.

"Oh, sorry hon', where the fuck are my manners?" Taking Lucille into both hands, he stroked the smooth wood. "This is my girl Lucille. Ain't she a beauty?" He thrust the bat closer to her face, the end only an inch from her nose. "Go on, tell her."

She just scoffed and turned her head away. "You're fucking crazy."

He tried not to be too angry. She didn't know better than to be scared yet. But she would.

"Better be careful, doll," he said, lowering his voice as he dug the barbed wire into her throat again. "Lucille ain't thirsty now, but she can fucking bite. You fucking see?"

Blood dripped down her neck and soaked into the neckline of her tattered shirt. She nodded, and Negan pulled Lucille away. "My men tell me they found you with a bike. A fucking bike. And not even a motorcycle. It was a fucking high schooler's bike. Davey, let me fucking see that."

He motioned with his free hand. Davey stepped forward, dragging a dark blue mountain bike with him. There were brown spots on its metal bits that could either have been rust or dried blood. Negan couldn't bring himself to care.

"You mind explaining to us why you brought a fucking bike with you in the middle of the goddamned apocalypse?"

She shrugged. "Finding gas is too much of a hassle. It's just as good as a car – it can get me places. Plus, it's more quiet."

Negan scoffed. "Yeah, you won't be saying that when you get fucking surrounded by the dead, will you?" She just glared. He decided to further pique her anger; he pointed at the mountain bike. "You see that piece of shit? It's our piece of shit now. Do you understand?"

Negan had gotten used to "if-looks-could-kill" types of situations, but he'd be lying if he said that her glare didn't tickle his balls. It had been a while since he'd been presented with a new challenge, a new toy to break. But he had a feeling that she would become something much more than just a toy.

"Are you going to kill me now?" she said, right before turning her head and spitting at the dirt beside Dwight's feet. Negan raised his eyebrows when he saw blood mingling with her spittle, and turned his gaze to his men.

"Who hit her?" he demanded. One of them, Shaw, stepped up and raised his chin, almost defiantly. "Why?"

"She wouldn't come easy," Shaw explained. "It was the only way to get her to stop kicking. Would have clawed my eyes out if I didn't do it."

Negan regarded him with cold eyes. "We'll talk about this later." Meanwhile, the girl was staring at him with more confusion than anger. It was a pleasant change. Negan smirked, explained, "We're not monsters here, doll. You were desperate. I get that."

Fury sparked in her eyes again, and he sighed. "Wanna tell me your name?"

Nothing. Her glare remained intact. "Man, she's got bigger balls than you, Davey... Fine, I'll go first," said Negan, smirking appreciatively. "Hi. I'm Negan. And you are?"

"Lucy," she replied quickly. Too quickly.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan twirled Lucille in his hand. Her gaze flickered to the bat, and fear flashed across her eyes. "Don't play games with me, sweetheart. Lucille doesn't like being provoked. Now let me ask again: what's your name?"

She took in a shaky breath. She looked vulnerable for the first time since he'd seen her. In a quiet voice, she said, "Georgia."

Negan grinned. "Well, we're not in Georgia anymore, are – What the fuck is that?"

Georgia's head whipped around, following his line of sight. Negan's nostrils flared. They all probably thought that he was pissed, but truth be told he was just fucking surprised. In fact, he couldn't believe his fucking eyes. Slowly, he approached one of his men, Vlad, who was holding the object that had so quickly caught Negan's attention. Negan took it from him, practically shoving him away.

"Where the fuck did you get this?" Negan demanded.

"It was with her when she snuck over the fence," Vlad said.

Negan looked down at the object in his hand. It was a bat. Not too different from Lucille, but whereas Negan owned a Lousville Slugger ash bat, Georgia's was Rawling's maple. The fact that Georgia carried a bat around wouldn't have surprised him, but she had wrapped it with barbed wire as well. She and him could be more the same than he'd once thought.

"You made this, sweetheart?" Negan was using his no-nonsense voice. Georgia nodded. "Hm."

Wordlessly, he strode past his men and grabbed the girl's elbow, pulling her to her feet and dragging her away from the compound. She struggled, she damn well tried, but Negan wanted something from her and he was hell-bound on getting it. He gripped the two bats loosely in one hand, using the other to lead her to their one and only RV.

"Get in, doll," he ground out. "Simon! Open the fucking gate! Georgia and I are going for a little ride."

She continued struggling, pounding at his chest. She was stronger than she looked. Negan gave her a rough shake and forced her to look at him. "I ain't gonna hurt you, doll, but you better start working with me here or there'll be hell to pay."

She stared at him for a moment longer before she must have realized that there was no way out. A burst of male pride erupted in his chest when she nodded and reluctantly got into the passenger seat. Negan followed soon after, laying the two lethal bats on his lap and then starting the RV.

The gates were opened and Negan pulled away from the compound. Soon, the bustling noise that came with the factory was long behind them. Tense silence filled the air. Negan could feel the fear radiating off the girl beside him, but there was anger too. He smiled and tapped the steering wheel, whistling a tune.

"Where are we going?" Georgia asked.

Negan directed his smile at her. "Since when'd you have this motherfucker?" He peeled a hand off the steering wheel to pick up her bat, examining it quickly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Didn't want to, so now you can answer mine."

He sensed more than saw her eye roll, and he grinned.

"About a year ago I got trapped in this sports store," she said. "The dead were closing in. It was the closest weapon I could find. I had to fight my way through."

Her voice and the fact that she had fucking survived being cornered was doing things to his body that she probably shouldn't know about. He cleared his throat. "And the barbed wire?"

"That came a few weeks later. Saw it just lying there, thought it wouldn't hurt to reinforce my weapon a bit."

"Resourceful... I like that." He nodded. "You got a fucking name for it?"

She looked at him like he was crazy, and she probably thought he was. "What makes you think it needs a name?"

"Aw come on, sweetheart. Everyone's lost something. A fucking dog maybe - Lucky? Is that what it's fucking called?"

"Is that why you named your bat Lucille? That's who you lost?" She tilted her head. "Was she your wife?"

Well, that was a turn-off. Sighing, Negan pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans. He pointed it at her head and turned the safety off; made sure she realized the severity of her situation. "Careful, doll," he said lowly. "Just because I like you doesn't mean I won't kill you if you piss me off."

To his utmost surprise, she just scoffed and turned her head to look out the window. Shit, he thought, biting back a grin as he stowed away his gun. She needed to know who was in charge, but fuck if her attitude didn't turn him right back on.

Several minutes passed before she broke the silence.

"Milo."

"What?"

"Milo," she repeated. "I had a younger brother. His name was Milo. He died during the first few weeks. He had gotten together with a few of his friends from college, they were surviving. I had just reunited with him when… when the herd came and killed them all." A pause. "He's who I lost."

Negan pursed his lips. "You didn't have to fucking tell me that, sweetheart."

"I know."

"If you think I'm gonna tell you my whole fucking life story just because you told me yours, you're dead wrong."

"I know."

He looked at her, then – enough to see how much telling that story had meant to her. She was baring her fucking soul to him and they had just fucking met and he didn't know what to fucking do next.

He cleared his throat. "Lucille was my wife. Before all this."

Georgia was quiet for a while. He could feel her staring. Then she just said, "Okay."

Well isn't this goddamn awkward. "You know, you probably shouldn't name the bat anything after all." He gave her a meaningful glance. "Milo wouldn't be a good name for a motherfucking badass killing machine."

She laughed, and he seized up a bit. Her laugh was loud, wild, but he should have expected it. She didn't look like the typical gal. She was fierce. She had been carrying a fucking bat wrapped in barbed wire for nearly a year.

She could be an asset to the Sanctuary.

Negan pulled the car to a stop. They had arrived at the perfect place, and it was time for Georgia to prove just how much she was worth. She was looking at him inquisitively, and he nodded over his shoulder. "Get in the back."

She did as he said and he followed behind her, staring a bit too long at her ass. When she turned to look at him, he was grinning. But he sobered up as soon as he handed her the maple bat. She took it without question, if not a bit doubtful at his motives.

"I'm giving this to you with utmost confidence that you won't bash my head in, doll. Don't do anything stupid. I still own your ass." Using his own bat, he pointed at the door to the RV. "Now, there's a bunch of roamers out there, and I need 'em cleared."

"And you expect me to help you?" She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I won't just leave you for dead?"

"Because you'll die fucking trying."

She looked even more confused than before. Negan threw her another condescending grin before opening the door, grabbing her arm, and shoving her outside. He had the door sealed shut before she had even picked herself up from the ground.

The snarls of the roamers reached his ears. Licking his lips, Negan pulled the blinds up and looked out the window, just as Georgia pounded her fist against the tempered glass. The roamers were stumbling towards her, desperate for fresh meat.

"You fucking bastard!" she yelled.

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." He raised Lucille and pointed behind her. "You've got bigger shit to deal with."

The first roamer descended upon her, grabbing her shoulder. She cursed and elbowed the roamer, forcing it back so she could finish it off with her bat.

She attacked them non-stop after that, punching and twisting to evade their teeth. She was absolutely lethal with her weapon, maybe even more so than Negan. She was thin, but he could see the strength in her limbs, the utter surety with which she swung her bat. Her forehead was creased, teeth bared with the exertion that her movements so required.

Negan watched her form, fluid and graceful and deadly. He felt himself grow hard at the thought of having her all to himself.

Georgia finally stumbled, too exhausted to keep her footing. There was still a considerable amount of roamers coming at her, and Negan decided that he'd seen enough. Whistling a tune, he got his gun out and stepped out of the RV.

One roamer had gotten close to Georgia. Too fucking close. Negan took aim and shot it in the head, taking a moment to watch it fall beside her before dispatching with the rest of the small herd. With a gun, he got rid of them quick. By the time he was done he had expected Georgia to be up on her feet trying to kill him, but she wasn't.

She was still on the ground, legs folded beneath her and arms stretched in front of her. Her bat lay by her side, bloody with bits of rotten flesh clinging to its barbs. She was panting like she had run five miles, which she practically had; Negan had left her to fight off the dead alone and with a bat for nearly ten minutes.

Negan couldn't get the picture of her out of his head: bat in hand, fending off a clearing of roamers by herself. The way her muscles stretched and contracted every time she wound up for a hit. The fierce look on her face.

That was all gone now. She was exhausted, but she still managed to surprise him. He had bent down to help her up when she raised her head. Her eyes didn't hold the familiar righteous anger he'd been expecting; instead, there was a glint of relief there, even a bit of gratefulness.

His eyebrows rose up his forehead. Looks like someone fucking needed the de-stressing.

"Doll," he said, reaching down to stroke her chin. "I think you and I are gonna get along really fucking nicely."

R and R please!

P.S. The official "fuck" count is 39. ;)