Maisie ran up and hugged him immediately. Although Eugene wasn't her absolute favorite person in the world, he was still a familiar face.

"I should beat the holy fucking fuck fuckity fuck fuck out of you," Negan growled, advancing on Dwight.

Maisie saw the malicious glint in his hazel eyes. "Don't kill him," she said, moving away from Eugene and standing between Dwight and Negan.

Negan eyed her, licking his lips. "God damn, Maisie, you just about have me wrapped around your little finger, huh?" he boomed, casting a glance at the fallen Dwight before striding away. "Eugene. Come with me."

Eugene gave the woman a frightened glance before waddling after Negan. Maisie shook her head and turned to Dwight, holding her hand out to him.

He grasped it and pulled himself to his feet. "Why'd you do that?" Dwight asked, lowering his guard to her in his confusion.

"You're in my dept now, angel," she replied coldly, walking away without another word.

〄

Daryl's heart simultaneously fluttered and sunk at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell.

"Daryl?" the heavenly familiar voice whispered. He heard scuffling as she crouched down beside the door.

"Maisie?" he asked, getting up from the floor of his cell to crouch on the other side of the door.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, alright? Tonight."

With that said, she got up and walked away. Seconds later, the music stopped and the hallway went quiet.

〄

Maisie assumed her position in the brightest, dimmest corner of the library, her feet up on the table and her book propped against her thighs, but she wasn't reading. She was really just waiting for the time to pass. Now normally, Maisie had the least patience, but this time was different. This time her patience was needed to royally fuck up Negan's day, and that's what made it worth the wait.

Negan's flowers sat in chipped vase on the window sill, holding onto their beautiful exterior while they slowly died. Maisie sighed heavily, saddened by how much she related. As she watched the flowers, with the sun glinting through the glass vase, a dried petal fell and landed on the window sill.

Maisie's cat-like eyes flicked away from the dying flowers at the sound of quietly approaching footsteps. Negan smiled bashfully when he came into view.

"Guess I can't really sneak up on a fucking ninja, now can I?"

"No, ma'am," Maisie replied simply.

"Sir," he corrected, pulling a chair out and sitting across from her.

"I say ma'am to everyone, don't take it personal."

"Noted. Tell me about yourself, you're a fucking mystery."

"Yet you asked a fucking mystery to be your wife," Maisie mused, her lip curling. Negan gave her a look.

"I don't reveal my past to people," she said sullenly, thinking back to when she told Glenn and Rick about herself.

Negan made a face. "Not even the littlest bit?"

Maisie countered his hopeful expression with a cold glare.

"I see what this is about," Negan said slowly, after a few moments of tense silence. Maisie raised her eyes from the pages of her book.

"You're mad that I killed your little friend. The Asian one."

"He's Korean," Maisie spat, gritting her teeth against the anger that burned in her chest. That little comment was truly the straw that broke the camel's back. Rage simmered beneath her skin, bubbling up her throat until it exploded and she leapt to her feet, knocking her chair back. "You're a pitiful man, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" Negan demanded, getting to his feet as well. Although he towered over her, she didn't cower. She was far too angry to cower.

"You didn't have to kill Glenn and Abe, and you certainly didn't have to take me as a hostage, yet you did! -"

"You're not a hostage!"

"Simon threatened to shoot Carl if I didn't come with you! I wasn't gonna let you Saviors kill another one of my people to save my own skin! You didn't have to kill them, or threaten to do so, just to tell Rick your dick is bigger than his!" Maisie shrieked, turning to storm away.

"You do not just walk away from me!" Negan growled, his large hand closing around her upper arm.

Maisie whipped around and countered with a hard slap across his face. "Don't fucking touch me," she seethed, hate-filled eyes shining with angry tears before she wrenched her arm from his grasp and ran out of the library, leaving Negan equally stunned and fuming.

〄

Maisie laid back on her bed, breathing hard and trying to calm down. She glanced at the clothes she'd swiped from the laundry earlier and felt a little bit more relaxed; she was going to help Daryl, but she was unsure of how she was going to help herself.

She thought back to the first time they had met and her heart fluttered. She smiled to herself as she thought of how much he had hated her, now she knew he felt something else when he looked at her. She didn't know how she knew, but she just knew.

To her, he used to be an angry redneck that had attacked her. He was still a volatile man, but he had softened the slightest bit to her.

〄

Daryl was unsure how many hours had passed since Maisie's cryptic visit, but for that unknown amount of time, she was all he could think about.

I'm going to get you out of here, alright?

What did that mean? She was a small woman, how was she gonna pull this off?

Was she gonna get them both out or was hell gonna keep his angel for a little while longer?

〄

When curfew hit, Maisie sprang into action; she grabbed a backpack from under her bed and stuffed the clothes, some water, and a knife inside. She sheathed her own razor sharp knife at her hip before slowly opening the door and peeking out into the hallway. It was clear, for now.

She crept out and ran on light feet, making sure her footsteps didn't echo. When she reached Daryl's cell, she tapped lightly on it with her knuckles to ensure he was awake and examined the door. The lock was surprisingly simple; it didn't even require a key. Maisie pulled the clothes from her backpack, opened the door slowly to avoid the creaking and handed the bundle, along with a pair of work boots, to him. She had to guess his size, but she figured he'd be able to change when he got back to Alexandria.

"Get dressed," she hissed, leaving the door open ever so slightly. Not even two minutes later, the door swung open, revealing a dirty and bloodied Daryl. He looked her up and down silently for a moment, and Maisie resisted the urge to hug him. There wasn't enough time.

"This way," she said quietly, grabbing his hand and leading him down the dark hallway to a door that led outside. She opened it the slightest bit before carefully and quickly closing it again before it hit the back of the man.

"What?"

Maisie held a finger to her lips and drew her knife from it's sheath.

The night guard barely had time to react to the hand that appeared out of nowhere and clamped over his mouth before he felt the knife that was driven into the side of his neck.

Maisie helped the man's body to the ground so that it didn't make a thud before she slipped the backpack off her shoulders and handed it to Daryl. As he took it from her, Maisie slipped a hand into the pocket of her jeans and grabbed a key. She took Daryl's hand and placed it into his palm. He looked at her, confused.

"It's for the black motorcycle with the brass columns in the front. You need to go."

"Are you comin' with me?"

"I can't," she said sadly, bowing her head and allowing her blonde hair to curtain her face. "It'll look bad if we're both gone. Daryl, please, don't make this harder for the both of us."

Daryl hesitated for a moment, glancing between her and the bikes lined up in a row before he stepped up to her and clashed his chapped lips against her soft ones.

The kiss was passionate, to say the least. Daryl could feel the heat wash through her body, especially where her hands met the stubbled skin of his jaw, as his calloused hands tangled in her bright blonde waves. Maisie pressed her slim body against his broader one, deepening the kiss.

They were both panting when they broke apart, before he turned and mounted the black bike. Maisie ran her thumb across her swollen lip, watching him kick it to life and steer it out of the compound before running back to her room, giddy with the butterflies that fluttered through her stomach. The barely there thought of the dead night guard was drowned in her highschool girl euphoria.

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