Hold on tight to the hopes of a restless fool

Essie!" yelled Negan, "goddamit, keep the fuck up."

She looked up, startled, and began to move again.

The wind was screaming; she'd never heard anything like it. She and Lawrence had experienced something similar shortly before arriving in Alexandria but they'd been in an abandoned office block in a nameless town with their group; they'd been safe and sheltered, watching it from the window. Now, outside, it was like being attacked by a wild animal. Her hair streamed out like a flare and it seemed to want to strip her skin. It took all her focus to keep from falling. Her head felt like it was in a vice and her vision was blurry.

Rain and hail battered them; she thought she knew rain, having lived in England for most of her life, but now she realised even the worst storms had been a light shower compared to this.

Keep moving…one foot in front of the other…just dance through the rain drops.

I'm not listening to you.

You never did, my little fox cub. You always went your own way.

Because I knew I didn't want to follow you.

Yet here you are, with a man you hate because you've got no choice. Just like me, I never had a choice either.

You had a choice, you chose to follow one bastard after another, rather than be on your own.

You never got me Estella, I was free.

You were more of a prisoner than I've ever been.

Close your eyes now. Go to sleep. You'll think differently in the morning.

Negan turned to see Essie fall. She didn't get back up. He ran back and opened her eyes but she didn't respond so he hoisted her over his shoulder and continued climbing.

The storm worsened. She opened her eyes for a moment in the midst of a dream about escaping from a sinking ship to see Negan shouldering open the door to a cabin. He made his way back to her through the fire lit darkness and pulled her up, dragging her through the door and kicking it shut. He dropped her and wedged a chair under the handle. A quick scout of the room relinquished a door to a root cellar; dragging Essie into the darkness, he closed the hatch behind him as the storm did its best to rip the skin from the world.

It lasted all night and most of the next day, Essie slept through it as Negan paced the small room in darkness. Every so often he knelt down to check she was breathing, gently moving her hair out of the way. He thought back to one of their first proper conversations back at the compound when he'd walked in expecting find her cowering in fear, instead she'd been asleep.

"Hey…hey…you need to wake up Pippi," Negan said and shook Essie's shoulder. Opening her eyes slowly, she had no idea where she was; immediately she struggled to get up, reaching for her knife that wasn't there.

"What the fuck…" she demanded, squinting groggily at Negan, ready to fight.

"I found this place after carrying you 3 goddam miles, that's what the fuck is," he said, through a grin.

"What is this place?" she asked, running her hands over her face.

Negan went up the rough stairs first, machete in hand, and opened the cellar door.

"It's clear, come on," he said, holding his hand out to her; she ignored it and hung onto the rope handrail.

The cabin was small; a living room with a stone hearth, a tiny kitchen in one corner with a wood burning stove, a bedroom through one door and an ancient bathroom through the other. The furniture was sparse and looked handmade, it lacked luxuries but it was comfortable.

"Goddam, come look at this," said Negan, looking out of the window. Essie joined him and what she saw was shocking. The storm had torn up the woods; trees were splintered in half, the river had risen half way up the hillside, any semblance of a track had been washed away. The sky still looked pregnant with rain and the wind was high.

She felt a great weight dragging her down, if Daryl had been out in that then he was surely dead…she was alone now…it was almost a relief, the responsibility of his love had been too much…how could she have ever matched up to that?

You couldn't, it's better this way.

You're probably right, mother.

You were a child of Winter, you were never a child of Summer like me…you were born for sadness.

You're probably right.

I'm always right, little fox cub. I'm always right.

"I need food, let's see what the Uni Bomber left us," said Negan, cutting through her thoughts and he began opening cupboards and drawers.

"Now that's more fucking like it," he exclaimed, holding up cans of tomatoes and meat, "I can definitely do something with this."

Essie sat in the rocking chair as he banged about in the kitchen. Although she hadn't eaten in 3 days, she wasn't hungry; she didn't feel much of anything. All it had taken was a storm to wash everything away; all her anger and fight and hate, none of it mattered.

"Eat," Negan said, pushing the bowl into her hands, flopping down opposite her, and began to eat with gusto. She moved the spoon around but couldn't seem to bring it up to her mouth.

"You're not eating, a man could get offended by that. You still sick?" he asked, after watching her for a few minutes.

"No, I'm not sick," she sighed.

"Then what the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she answered tonelessly.

"Oh no, I've been round the block enough times to know when a woman says nothing's wrong, everything's wrong," he said.

"Please, spare me your gender insights," she snapped.

"There's my little fire cracker," he grinned.

"What do you want from me?" Essie asked, placing the untouched bowl on the floor, "do you think we're going to play house for a while and all will be forgotten? Are you living in hope that Stockholm syndrome will kick in and I'll come back with you and join your other birds in their cage? Then fine, that's what I'll do; I'll go back to the compound, I'll put on a black dress, I'll smile…Do you know what? I'll even kneel."

He stared at her.

"Because I don't care anymore…I just don't care. You've won, ok? You've won."

It won't be so bad, little fox cub. If you're really lucky, you could become his favourite.

Negan watched as Essie shook her head, trying to dislodge something he couldn't hear. Part of him rejoiced in his triumph, he knew he'd get what he wanted, he always did. But another part of him was wary; it shouldn't have been this easy with her. This wasn't winning, this was surrender to something other than him.

"What made you change your mind so quickly?" he asked.

"It's pre-programmed into my DNA," she answered grimly.

"Explain it to me," he demanded.

"Just take it as a fucking win," she said and turned away from him, staring at the dead hearth.

It began to rain again as night fell. He'd found some candles and a box of matches. The room was lit with a flickering glow; Essie hadn't moved from the chair.

"Here," he said and threw something at her, hitting her in the face. She picked it up off the floor and saw a very battered packet of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she lit it with a candle and blew out a plume of smoke, it was the first movement she'd made in 2 hours.

"When did you start?" he asked.

"When I was about 14; I stole one from my mother's boyfriend and smoked it in the alley behind their squat. I threw up and then went and got another. I gave up for years but the Apocalypse seemed to demand I start again," she said.

"You lived in a squat?" he asked, watching her in wavering light.

"Sometimes. Other times we'd stay with her friends or, if we were really lucky, a boyfriend might have a house. We also stayed in communes or travelled on the road; we went anywhere she could score without having to pay."

You make it sound so terrible…we were free, we could go wherever the wind blew us.

"She was an addict?" Negan asked and Essie nodded.

"Heroin was her preference but she'd take anything she could get…by any means necessary." Essie dragged hard on the cigarette.

"I thought you came from money?" Negan said, surprised she was telling him so much. He'd believed her before when she was lying but now he didn't doubt her story.

"Her family cut her off when she ran away. She went down to London, got in with the fast and loose crowd, tried desperately to fit in and lost herself."

I found myself.

"So, who was your father?" Negan asked, leaning forward, watching her in the curling light.

"You ever heard of the artist Joe Kirk?" and he shook his head.

"Why would you?" she said, derisively, "he was a famous painter, part of the Hyperrealism movement of the 70s…my mother was one of his muses but he…misjudged her…she became pregnant with me and it turns out she misjudged him…he abandoned her."

He loved me. He said I was the most beautiful of them all. He didn't want leave, he was forced by his bitch wife.

"He abandoned you as well." Negan said quietly.

"He didn't know me...didn't meet me for years…" she went quiet.

You drove him away…he didn't want a miserable child hanging around…it would've killed his art.

"Until your ma died," Negan prompted.

"Until she died, yes…"

"How?" he demanded.

"With a needle in her arm, in the filthy bathroom of a rundown squat in Camden…I found her when I got home from school…Social Services finally worked out who I was and contacted my father…he didn't want me and I was sent to live my maternal aunt…you know the rest," and she went back to staring at the empty hearth as if she'd never spoken.

He likes you…he watches every move you make, he's hungry.

"Yeah, I know the rest," he said.

"Aren't you gonna ask me any questions?" he said, breaking the silence again.

"No," Essie answered and met his questioning look, "I don't care, I'm not interested…you're not interesting."

"But you'll come back with me anyway," he stated.

"Yes, I'll come back with you…like I said, you've won." Essie lit another cigarette.

"Did Daryl win?" Negan asked and Essie laughed.

"It was never a contest," and she pulled hard on the cigarette.

"How come you didn't break him out of my compound when you left?" Negan couldn't stop himself from needling at her, trying to get a reaction…any reaction. The rain rapped on the windows and the river swelled.

"I made a mistake…just one in a very long line."

"I can't imagine you ever making a mistake Pippi," he grinned.

"Then I left him on purpose, to save myself…and what does that make me?" Essie stared hard at Negan.

The river burst its banks just as Daryl made it to the highest point in the landscape. Squeezing himself further into the tiny cave, he watched the lightning and rain.