Negan had Carl glued to his side, and Maisie had disappeared. He hadn't seen her since she left the room the day before. He wondered if anything bad had happened to her within the compound's walls. It was a foolish thought, but he wanted to protect her.

You see? Chivalry isn't dead.

But the world is.

Daryl hadn't talked much of his experience in the Sanctuary, but he had returned to Alexandria with a lost look behind his tough expression. While they didn't know what had happened, Daryl snapped at anyone who spoke of Maisie.

Was Daryl interested in her? Was she interested in him? It was hard to tell.

Carl had known Daryl for a long, long time, and he didn't really know if the redneck was capable of feeling — or accepting — love. Carl had always thought of the man, the tough, stealthy, hot-headed man, as a lone wolf; someone who didn't need nor want a partner.

But, hey, shit happens, right?

Carl blinked himself out of his distracted stupor when he felt a nudge on his right shoulder.

"Are you going catatonic on me?" Negan demanded playfully, smirking down at him.

Carl tipped his head again, letting his shaggy hair cover the gaping hole in his face. Negan hadn't allowed him to cover it up.

"It's fucking badass!" he had said, clapping a large hand on his shoulder.

It wasn't badass, it was traumatizing.

That whole goddamn night had been traumatizing for everyone. Although Carl hadn't been sorry to see Michonne's katana slice through Ron's chest, he was sorry he didn't get to kill him himself.

"Where's Maisie?" he finally asked, after they had stood out on the balcony and overlooked the chained walkers in silence.

"No idea where that little bitch is. Why, you like her or something?" Negan teased, turning to lean his elbow against the railing.

"No. She was playing with a ring on her finger yesterday, was that yours?"

"You bet your ass it is."

"Then why insult her if you love her?"

"Love is for pussies, kid. Claiming a hot blonde for myself is another thing. Man, you should see the way my boys look at her!"

Carl said nothing. He didn't understand Negan's mindset, or even the Saviors'. Carl always knew women — especially women like Maisie, Rosita, and Michonne — were a force of nature, not collectors items.

"I need to use the washroom," Carl said flatly, slipping through the heavy door and into the Sanctuary. Carl lied, he just needed five minutes without Negan breathing down his neck. He knew he didn't have much time, so he picked up his pace drastically.

He soon found her in the library, sitting with her back to him. As he approached, he saw her arms work and her elbows would jerk. She turned just as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey... what're you doing?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the thick length of rope with knots tied every inch sitting in her lap.

"Making a toy for Jackson that you will take back when you go home."

"Mais, when we go home," Carl corrected her, sitting down next to her.

Maisie shook her head and held up her left hand. The large ring on her finger flashed ominously in the dull light. "You see this? This is anchoring me here. I can't leave. I'd die trying. And so would you if you try to help me. I'm dead in the water, Carl."

"No! If you reject him, he'll let you go."

"No, he'll kill me, and then everyone I love. He'd kill you. Daryl..."

"You have feelings for him, don't you?"

A pink tint appeared on her pale cheeks. "I—"

"Carl!"

The two jumped and turned to see Negan striding toward them, Lucille slung over his shoulder.

"I gotta go," Maisie said suddenly, getting to her feet. Before she walked away, she looked back and said, "Don't do anything rash, sunshine."

The corners of Carl's mouth flickered slightly at Maisie's retreating back.

〄

There were days when defeat hit Maisie like a truck and she felt like calling it quits, and there were others where felt like screaming and crying and throwing punches or others she'd simply bottle everything up and be quiet. Today was one of those days. With Carl here, she needed to make sure Negan stayed happy, she just wished she wouldn't have to do it.

"Sherry!"

The woman who passed her turned to her with wide eyes.

"Sherry," Maisie said, calmer this time, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Keep Negan happy."

"How?"

"I don't care what you do or how you do it, just please do it. I don't know for how long, but at least long enough for me to get my friend out of this hell."

At this, Sherry's lip curled. "Is it the kid that shot down a few guys yesterday?"

Maisie nodded.

"Alright."

"Thank you!"

〄

Daryl prowled Alexandria, looking for something to keep himself busy. Rick hadn't allowed him to go on runs or even leave the community while Negan was still looking for him.

When he found himself outside of Maisie's house, he stopped and looked at the empty house. The poor dog had moved to Tara's, leaving the house silent. Taking a deep breath, the man climbed the few steps and sat himself on the porch railing, leaning his back against the column.

He wasn't one to show his emotions, but a sudden longing for the feral blonde hit him like a truck. Whatever suffering she endured in that place was his fault. Why did she help him when she could've let him suffer for his actions?

Glenn's blood was on his hands, and so should Maisie's hatred.

〄

Maisie wandered the halls long past the curfew. She did this often, but she never got caught.

Fucking ninja, as Negan put it.

Speaking of Negan, as she walked past his room, she heard his name being moaned. Shuddering, she quickened her pace and walked away. She didn't care about what Negan was doing, as long as she didn't have to do it with him.

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