Disclaimer: I don't own "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I'm not sure why I decided this had to be written, but here we are. I thought it would be interesting to tackle the idea of if instead of Father Gabriel, it was Maggie who was left behind with Negan.

Warnings: soul-mates, soul bond, fated love, angst, drama, romance, unresolved sexual tension, post traumatic stress disorder, mild consent issues. Negan is not a good person and Maggie doesn't deserve this.

What doesn't kill me (makes me)

Chapter Four

She didn't trust herself to drive.

Still, it had been a hard decision getting into the passenger seat. Hands needing something to keep them from acting out a thousand intrusive thoughts as they sped past trash-strewn streets and dense pockets of trees. Things like ripping off her seatbelt and opening the door while Jesus took a turn just a bit too fast. Or taking her knife and holding it to his throat, demanding he take her back. Every part of her screaming that she couldn't be this far from him. That it was going to kill her. That it physically hurt right there in the center of her chest as she felt him aching - maybe even screaming with her - the more space she put between them.

It was separation anxiety of the worst kind. The kind that made her hate herself and him. The kind that made her want to take her nails and rip into her own skin. To dig him out like something rotting and malignant as her veins broke open and slushed blood so thick it started pooling around her feet.

She didn't want this.

She didn't-

But instead of doing any of those things, she clenched Glenn's watch to her breast and tried to match her breathing with Harlan's as he exhaled heavily in the backseat. Falling asleep against the boxes of supplies Jesus had stashed away while he'd been waiting to make his move.

Like most old things, it had a history behind it. It had been her father's watch. And his father's before him. It was the only keepsake she had of her old life. Something that connected her to the farm and the house. The front porch and thicket of trees where she'd spent most of her holidays, trying to escape the heat of high summer.

But even those memories weren't sacred. Because before she was aware of the switch, she was suddenly back there. Sitting on the porch swing in the afternoon sun, sorting through a basket of peaches with Beth. Both of them were maybe a year or two older, talking about Beth's college applications, when an unfamiliar voice called out a greeting.

Rather than seeing the blacktop in front of her, or Jesus' quiet glances, she drank in the sight of him – of Negan - walking up the dirt path. Experiencing the moment second-hand when she raised her hand, shading her eyes, as he waved at her sheepishly. The jingle of car keys issuing like an explanation long before she noticed the gravel-scuffs on the knees of his dress slacks and the dark stain of engine grease dotting the cuffs of his white shirt. Buttons already undone to the chest and slick to his skin in the Georgia heat.

Was that how it was supposed to happen?

How it would have happened?

It could have worked between them then.

She could feel it.

If the virus had never happened, that could've been them. Her life. Their life. And she would have been happy. Whole. Glenn could have passed her on the street or delivered pizza to the apartment she rented with her friends in the city and she wouldn't have given him a second glance.

She closed her eyes. Tears doming under her lashes as her skin burned hot with betrayal. Hating herself for suddenly wishing she'd taken a piece of him with her. Something she could touch. Something to remind her of-

"What did he do to you?" Jesus asked quietly, voice gentle. Completely at odds with the urge to snap at him as the interruption took her away from the sight of Negan's face. His smile tired, but genuine, as Beth took his cellphone inside to start charging. Handing him a glass of lemonade and inviting him to sit on one of the chairs before the entire scene shimmered and disappeared like a mirage.

'Nothing,' she thought silently, stomach roiling with grateful hatred. 'Everything.'

They were pulling through the gates at the Hilltop before she realized she'd never answered.

Six days later Gregory banged on the gates, snarling and freshly dead. Reaching up at her from the look-out turret with a broken jaw and fingerless hands. Each and every one of them cut off at the quick.

Jesus was the one who finally opened the gates and put him down. Looking him right in the eyes as he sank a knife into the back of his skull. Keeping him still as the man's collar gaped – revealing colorful boot-print bruises over every bit of skin she could see.

There was no note.

No explanation of where Gregory had been since he'd left her behind and disappeared.

She didn't need one to know why.

The next few weeks were torture.

She took over running the Hilltop officially, and that was okay for a while. Fulfilling and distracting as the war raged on and Rick and the others touched base here and there. Still going after the Saviors. Keeping them scared as the Kingdom tried to regroup after losing so many of their people.

She helped plan the next few raids, but instead of fighting, she started stepping back. Keeping herself in the reserves as she listened to the gunfire from afar. Drumming her nails against the steering wheel and trying to pretend she wasn't looking for black leather and low-slung jeans.

She also pretended she didn't notice the looks Jesus and Enid had started sharing when her back was turned. It was a conversation she was putting off. Knowing she'd have to face it sooner or later. But at this point she was just grateful Rick was so focused on the fight he didn't question why she'd changed her mind about being on the front lines.

Right now she needed answers more than anything.

It took her a while, but she found the books. Having vague, embarrassing memories of sneaking glances in the public library when her momma drifted over to the romance section and forgot she wasn't stuck to her hip like she'd promised when they left for the mall that morning.

She told herself it was to look for a loophole. Something she could use. Something she could use against him. But it didn't matter. The books said the same things over and over. All in horribly positive, optimistic words with 'the more you know' facts labeled glitzy with hearts and stars in the margins.

Because that was the thing, wasn't it?

Finding your soulmate was supposed to be the happiest moment of your life.

She pushed the book across the table. Wiping her eyes as her skin came back wet and over-heated. Nursing a low-grade headache that'd settled between her eyes ever since she'd started reading.

She took a careful sip of water and munched on a stale cracker. Taking small, nibbling bites before swallowing slowly. She hadn't kept much down the last few days. The lack of sleep was getting to her.

The sound of flipping pages seemed exaggerated as she leafed through the index. Blinking quickly as her mind threatened to play tricks on her. Super imposing the vague outline of Negan sitting down in the chair across from her. He was wearing a green, long-sleeved shirt, jeans and stubble. But more to the point, he looked tired, even to her. Like the last few weeks had been eating at him. Just like they had for her.

Their connection was see-through and barely there, but she still caught the tremor that ran through his hand as he made a frustrated sound and tossed the book he'd been reading behind him. Running his hand through his hair as her mouth tarted dry. Tongue peeking out before he looked up and caught her. Expression switching from surprise to relief, then something almost-

He was gone in the next blink.

Gone like he'd never been there at all.

But somehow she knew he had been.

She felt all the tension in her muscles slowly deflate as she leaned back in her chair. Bracing her hands around the edge of the table as she looked back at the empty chair with open frustration. It felt like a cheat code to a game she barely understood. It was as if their bond was trying to beat the distance somehow. Making it easier, or perhaps harder to live with, as her hands creased the pages she was holding. Giving her the impression, one that deep down she already knew, that a bond wasn't something you were ever meant to fight.

She needed a way out of this mess.

The faster the better.

When she finally found what she was looking for she barely made it to the sink before she was violently sick. Breathing unsteadily through harsh, hiccupping sobs as the part of her that'd once been young and believed in happy endings quietly curled up and died under her skin.

Enid found her like that sometime before the sun came up. Wondering if she looked as hollow as she felt as the girl dropped to her knees on the floor beside her. Lips moving. Saying her name. But she was too drained to listen. Feeling removed from it. Like an age had passed and she'd missed her time to mourn.

"I can't kill him," she whispered brokenly, fingers digging into the peeling linoleum that edged around the cabinet under the sink. "I tried. I wanted too, but-"

"Maggie, what is it?" Enid asked worriedly, eyes flicking from her, the toilet bowl then back to the sliver of room visible through the door. The room was a mess, books still scattered across the floor where she'd thrown them. All her sins left abandoned to the light. Naked. Open. Not realizing she'd copied Negan until the after-image flickered in Enid's place. "Whatever it is, we can-"

She laughed.

It wasn't a nice sound.

It was like a slap. Harsh and out of character as Enid stilled beside her.

"After everything he's done… we can't kill him," she whispered, voice rising in unstructured disbelief. Only a couple notes from hysterical as Enid caught a glimpse of the closest book. Eyes going wide in the bathroom mirror as the silent question of 'how?' threatened to annex the remaining oxygen.

When the sobs came again they were ugly and hitching. Stained through with betrayal and loss, and only half of it was for Glenn. Hating herself even as every part of her stretched herself thin trying to reach him. Feeling Negan's absence like a hole in her heart as the rest of her struggled to cope.

In the end, Enid didn't tell her lies.

She didn't tell her they'd find a way.

Or that it would be alright.

She just held her.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.