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"𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞."

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.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Negan leaned back, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he launched into another story about Simon. "So, get this—last week, I catch Simon throwing a damn tantrum in the middle of the yard 'cause one of the new guys swiped his last cigar. Just about blew a fuse, right there in front of everyone—made it into this whole big deal about respect and 'standing your ground.'" Negan shook his head, grinning. "I swear, that guy's got a temper on him. Had to remind him he's not exactly rolling solo out here."

Sunny, settled into the worn leather couch across from him, let her gaze drift, half-listening as she leaned back and crossed her arms. Finally, she cut in, "I don't remember you talkin' this much."

Negan paused, his eyebrows lifting in mock offense before a chuckle rumbled out. "Aw, come on now, is that your way of tellin' me I'm boring you, Sunbun?" He clasped a hand over his heart dramatically, but his grin never wavered. "Here I am, baring my soul, and I get that?"

Sunny shrugged, her face set in a half-smirk, not giving him much.

"Fine, fine," Negan said, tossing his hands up in surrender, eyes gleaming. "You got me. How about you tell me some shit, huh? Go on—lay it on me." Negan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, eyes glinting with interest as Sunny shrugged.

"I don't got much to tell," she said, looking away, as if whatever stories she held were hardly worth sharing.

He scoffed, sitting back with a chuckle. "Oh, come on now, Sun. I've been out of the loop a while. Tell me somethin' good—something I missed while I was... y'know, 'reorganizing' things."

She hesitated, a flicker of something dark crossing her face, but then she smirked, eyes narrowing with a trace of humor. "Alright, fine. Ya missed... Terminus."

Negan tilted his head, looking intrigued. "Terminus? What, was that some kind of safe haven? Bit of paradise I missed?"

Sunny huffed out a dry laugh. "Yeah, paradise—if paradise means a bunch of psychos lurin' people in with promises of safety and then... eatin' them."

Negan raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face, equal parts surprised and impressed. "You're tellin' me you ran into a damn dinner party of cannibals?"

"Pretty much." Sunny's voice was casual, but her gaze drifted as if remembering the horrors. "We barely made it out... They herded us like cattle, right into a train car. Could hear 'em sharpening knives, getting ready for...well, for dinner. Was gonna eat Daryl 'n Rick."

Negan shook his head, whistling low. "Damn, Sunbun. And you walked out of that mess?"

She nodded, still not quite meeting his gaze. "Rick did. He got us out. Not that he needed much help..." She trailed off, looking a bit lost.

Negan leaned back, his face unreadable for a moment before a grin returned. "Now that is a story, Sunny. Hell, you must've all been tougher than I gave you credit for."

She shrugged again. "Guess so."

He softened his tone, watching her closely. "Ain't easy, goin' through all that. Lot of folks would've snapped. But here you are—tougher than half the people I know. You oughta give yourself some credit."

Sunny rolled her eyes slightly but didn't disagree, and for a moment, it felt almost natural—the two of them, talking like family.

Negan stretched his arms out across the back of the couch, looking thoughtful. "Gotta admit, Sun, you got a way of bouncing back from the bad shit that's... rare. Especially for a kid. Most folks break like glass the second things go south."

Sunny shrugged, her expression distant. "Didn't feel like I had a choice. Either you keep goin', or..." She let the words trail off, a darkness flickering in her eyes that made Negan's gaze soften, if only slightly.

"Yeah, you keep going." He echoed her words, nodding slowly. "Even when the world kicks the hell out of you." He paused, considering her. "Tell me something, Sun. What really kept you goin'?"

Sunny looked away, and he could tell she was reluctant to answer, the silence settling heavy between them. "Guess I... I don't know. Sometimes I think it was just wantin' to prove to myself I could. That I was stronger than..." She trailed off again, and he took the opening.

"Stronger than you gave yourself credit for," Negan finished, nodding as if he understood perfectly. "I mean... I've, uh, had a chance to learn a lot about you." He scratched his jaw, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Came across a little journal of yours... Look, I know—it's personal. But I just wanted to get a glimpse, see what I missed."

Sunny's eyes widened, and her face flushed with a mixture of anger and betrayal. "You... you read it?!"

Negan held up his hands, quickly talking over her outrage. "Now, hold up, don't go throwin' punches just yet! I kept it because, well... I wanted to understand you. I know that might sound like crap, but you're my kid, Sunny. And even if I wasn't around, I didn't want to be some stranger to you."

She stayed quiet, her expression guarded but no longer furious. "So... you kept it?"

Negan nodded, reaching into his coat and pulling out the worn journal. "Yep. And I'm givin' it back now. 'Cause I think maybe I've figured out more about you than I deserve to know. So here." He handed it to her, his face serious, almost uncharacteristically sincere. "I know I might not be the dad you want, but... I'm tryin' to be better."

Sunny took the journal from him, her fingers lingering on the cover, the anger slowly ebbing as she processed his words. She looked down—he'd had it this whole time and hadn't told her? He'd read every single thing, she guessed.

She shook her head, not quite understanding. "Why'd you even keep it from me?"

Negan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and sighed. "I know it's a little screwed up, Sun. But, look, I missed out on a shit ton with you—stuff you'd probably never even think to tell me." He paused, as if gathering his words carefully. "The world out there... it changes people, y'know? I wanted to get a sense of who my kid turned into. And maybe... I was wrong to do it that way, but I figured if I'm gonna be any kind of father to you now, I need to understand the person you are now, not who you used to be."

Negan knew exactly words to say, playing into her desire to feel valued. He sugarcoated his intrusion to make her feel like she's seen and validated, to show that he cares, after all, he knew his own daughter better than anyone.

She nodded slowly, a little of her frustration melting, though she was still uneasy. "What... what did ya think?"

He gave a small, almost sad smile and looked down, running his thumb along a seam in the leather couch. "I thought..." He hesitated, then softened his voice. "I thought about your mom. About Lucille. She always wanted you to grow up strong, independent, to find people who'd stand by you no matter what. And maybe you got that." He looked up at her, his gaze sincere. "You got people to look out for you. I'm glad for that, even if it wasn't me. I just wish I'd been there for it."

Sunny's grip tightened around the journal, her expression caught between the hurt he'd caused and the flicker of something warmer—something almost like forgiveness. Negan leaned back, exhaling like he'd finally gotten something off his chest.

"Listen, Sun, I know I haven't exactly given you a reason to trust me." He softened his tone, making her feel like the two of them were sharing a secret. "But I'm tryin'. It might not seem like it, but I am. There's a reason you survived this long out there—'cause you're strong. That's all I wanted for you."

She swallowed, glancing down at her journal. "Guess it's nice to know ya cared."

Negan chuckled softly. "More than you know, Sunbun." He nudged her shoulder gently. "And hey, this place... it's tough, but you got people here now. You're not on your own, alright? We're family, you and me."

She nodded, his words settling over her with a reluctant comfort. She wasn't entirely convinced, but for the first time in a while, she didn't feel completely alone.

Days at the Sanctuary seemed to blur together, time folding in on itself. Sunny had begun leaving her room more often, really exploring the place and learning how it functioned. Most of her time was still spent in her room with the dictionary, but lately, she'd found herself seeking out her father more often.

When it was just the two of them, there was none of the harsh, cold leader act—he was just... him. The dad she remembered, the one she'd loved long before any of this. In those quiet moments, she could almost forget the blood on his hands, almost let herself feel at home.

But whenever they'd sit together, guilt crept in like a shadow, reminding her of what he'd done—who he'd done it to. How could she share anything with him after Glenn? After Red? And yet, each time she started to question it, his voice would cut through the noise in her head, steady and convincing, reinforcing the idea that her family back home no longer cared. That they'd moved on. That he was all she had left.

But she wasn't entirely convinced. Doubt simmered beneath the surface, tugging at her whenever she thought of Eugene's words or when she remembered Daryl's many words of reassurance, would he really now hate her? She needed to know for sure. But how?

Then an idea sparked, hesitant at first, but then more certain as it lingered.

She looked up at him. "Can I... borrow somethin'?"

Negan raised an eyebrow, amused. "Well, depends on what you're askin' for, kiddo."

She took a steadying breath. "That camera. The one you took from Alexandria."

A beat passed, and his face flickered with something unreadable before he covered it with an easy smile. Inside, his thoughts whirled. Giving her the camera meant risking those memories, risking her seeing those people as her family again, all happy and hopeful, something he'd worked hard to chip away at. But... maybe it wasn't a risk at all. Maybe it was the perfect reinforcement.

Smiling, he leaned forward and nodded, his voice smooth and easy. "Sure thing, Sun. You can have the damn camera."

Negan leaned back, a smirk creeping onto his face as he thought about the impact of the videos. He knew that letting Sunny see those interviews would reinforce everything he had been working on. She was feeling isolated and abandoned, and he had expertly manipulated her into believing that she needed him more than ever. Giving her the camera was a way to remind her of a past she could never return to.

He realized that she would see the warm words and fond memories from her old life as a time when she felt loved and accepted. But that was part of his plan. He had already planted seeds of doubt about the loyalty of those people. Watching the videos might stir up nostalgia, but it would also highlight how they had moved on without her. In Negan's mind, he was the only constant in her life, the one truly there for her.

As he handed over the camera, satisfaction washed over him. This gesture would make him seem honest and trustworthy, like he had nothing to hide. He wanted her to see this as a moment of vulnerability, an opportunity to reconnect with comforting memories. She might feel a spark of hope, but deep down, he knew it would only remind her that he was her only ally in a world that had turned its back on her.

Negan had worked hard to build this trust, making her feel completely dependent on him. The videos would strengthen their bond, showing her that he was the one who truly understood her. He imagined her navigating those feelings, caught between the comforting memories of her past and the reality he had created for her.

In the end, she would realize—on some level—that no one else would stand by her side the way he would. That understanding would keep her connected to him, just as he wanted.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Sunny was sat alone in her room, staring at the camera that lay on her lap. Did she want to watch those videos? Did she want to see a glimpse into the past? She wasn't sure.

But she still wasn't certain that her father's words were true, that she was being stupid by believing she had no one left but him. Maybe, by watching the videos, she could understand. The thought flickered through her mind, a whisper of hope against the weight of doubt pressing down on her.

What if the interviews revealed something she didn't expect? What if she saw the warmth in their eyes when they spoke of her, the genuine affection that had once defined her place among them? But there was the other side of that coin—a nagging fear that she'd see how easily they had moved on without her, how quickly the world had forgotten the girl who used to laugh and run alongside them.

With a deep breath, she picked up the camera, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned it on. As she navigated the menu, Sunny's heart raced. She felt an ache in her chest, both excited and terrified of what she might find.  

Would they speak fondly of her, or would their words serve as a reminder of her loneliness? Would they express the love she desperately craved or confirm her father's claim that she had been abandoned?

After a moment of hesitation, she selected the first video, and the screen flickered to life.

It was Glenn. His face was animated, and the warmth of his smile seemed to radiate even through the small screen. As much as she longed to hear his voice, she couldn't bring herself to watch. The thought of being reminded that he—and Red—were gone felt too raw, too painful. It was all too soon.

Sunny flicked through the videos on the camera, her heart racing as she searched for familiar faces. Each clip brought back memories, some sweet and others bitter. She paused when she landed on Lincoln's interview, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile as she remembered his silly jokes and infectious energy.

The screen flickered to life, revealing Lincoln sitting in front of Deanna, a bright grin on his face. His unruly hair fell into his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly eager to engage.

"Lincoln, tell me about yourself," Deanna prompted.

Lincoln leaned back in his chair, putting on a mock serious expression. "Well, I'm like the best cook in the whole group, but only because I set the bar pretty low. You should've seen the first batch of beans I tried to make. Let's just say we all had a... unique flavor experience." He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Deanna laughed softly, encouraging him. "And what about the people in your group? Who stands out to you?"

Lincoln's expression shifted slightly, and he straightened up a bit. "Well, I'd say Sunny's my best friend, but I don't think she knows it. She doesn't really like me," he admitted, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "But she's good, real good. Everyone loves her; it's crazy! I mean, she can be a total softie, but then she's also tough, you know?"

Lincoln's smile returned, brightening the moment. "And then there's Abraham. He's kinda like, uhm, a dad to me, I guess? But, like, the cool dad who lets you eat ice cream for breakfast and teaches you how to throw a punch." He laughed, a sound that reminded Sunny of happier days. "He's always got my back, even when I mess up, which is often. I can't tell you how many times he's saved me from getting into trouble."

Sunny was quick to turn the video off, feeling the lump form in her throat. It was no lie that she had hated Lincoln at first, he was always happy, it was annoying. But somewhere along the way, he had became her best friend. 

Hearing him speak about Red, her heart hurt. The man had meant so much to Lincoln, she couldn't help but think about how he was now. She hadn't seen him in Alexandria, where was he? 

She wondered if the boy got the chance to speak about her again, would he still be so kind? Does he still see her as his best friend, or just Negan's daughter? She really, really hoped it wasn't the latter.

With a deep breath, Sunny flicked through the videos again, her heart racing as she landed on Daryl's interview. The screen brightened, revealing him standing by Deanna's table, his hands absently rolling marbles between his fingers. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the marbles clinking against one another.

Deanna smiled at him, trying to create a welcoming atmosphere. "Daryl, can you sit for me?" she asked gently.

"Nah, I'm alright," he grumbled, not bothering to meet her gaze. The tension in his posture made it clear he didn't trust this place—or her.

Deanna pressed on, "I understand. But I'd like to know—do you even want to be here?"

Daryl shrugged, his demeanor giving nothing away. "Kids need a roof," he replied flatly, his voice rough and low.

Deanna leaned in, sensing an opportunity. "I've heard you have a kid in the group. What can you tell me about her?"

His eyes narrowed, and he fiddled with the marbles more vigorously, a sign of his unease. "She's... good," he muttered, the word escaping him like a reluctant confession. "Tougher than she looks."

"What's her name?" Deanna pressed, sensing the protective instinct in his tone.

"Sunny," he said, almost defensively. "She's been through a lot, and she ain't got much family left. Just tryin' to keep her safe."

"Right," Deanna replied, her tone encouraging. "And why did you decide to be the person to stand up for her?"

Daryl shrugged, his shoulders tense. "I don't know. Just happened, I guess. She needed someone, and I was there." He avoided her gaze, but the sincerity in his voice lingered.

"Sounds like you care about her," Deanna said gently, watching for any signs of vulnerability.

"Yeah, well, she's just a kid, and kids shouldn't have to deal with this shit," he responded, his gruffness masking the deeper feelings he struggled to express.

Deanna nodded, noting the raw emotions beneath his tough exterior. "You're doing good, Daryl. It's important she has someone looking out for her."

He grunted, shifting his weight slightly as if her words made him uncomfortable. "Just doin' what I can," he replied, but Sunny could hear the unspoken bond between them echoing in his voice, a connection that meant more than he was willing to admit.

The interview ended pretty quickly after that, Daryl pacing around the room, just grunting to Deanna's questions. Sunny had forgotten how much the man had hated being in the community; it felt like so long ago.

And realistically, it was long ago. Everything had changed since then.

She had expected to watch those interviews and get the answers she needed, but there were none. Just because they had spoken good about her back then didn't mean they felt the same now.

Daryl had called her his kid back then, but he had left her. She hadn't seen Lincoln in weeks. No one had tried to get her out of the sanctuary, and no one ever was.

With each passing day, the reality began to settle in—her family didn't care anymore. They were out there, living their lives, while she was stuck here, locked away with the very man who had taken everything from her. She thought back to the last time she had seen them, the way they'd looked at her with a mixture of pity and confusion. They were moving on without her, forging new connections in a world that had nearly broken them. Maybe they didn't want her back.

Negan's words echoed in her mind: You don't have anyone left but me.

It stung, the way he'd articulated the painful truth. Watching Daryl's interview had only solidified that feeling of abandonment. If Daryl had cared enough to protect her back then, why hadn't he come for her now? She could picture Lincoln, his goofy smile, but even that felt distant and faded. She hadn't heard his laugh in weeks, hadn't shared any of their inside jokes.

Her heart ached with a hollow sense of betrayal. They must have moved on, just like everyone else. The thought gnawed at her, pulling her deeper into despair. She clenched her fists, a desperate attempt to hold onto the anger instead of the hurt.

Sunny's eyes flicked back to the camera. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but the bitterness settled instead—a quiet resignation to the belief that her family had left her behind. They had once cared, but that was just a memory now. She couldn't shake the feeling that the warmth of their past affection had grown cold, replaced by a painful void.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the bed, feeling lost in a world where everything she once knew had slipped through her fingers. It was easier to believe that her dad was right, that she was all alone. She swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, unwilling to let them fall.

As tears continued to threaten to spill, Sunny shook her head, desperately trying to hold onto hope. But every moment spent in this silence, without Daryl's reassurance or Lincoln's goofy laughter, chipped away at her belief that she still mattered to them. The evidence of their absence painted a stark picture: her family didn't seem to want her anymore.

Sunny sat on her bed, the weight of her thoughts suffocating her as she stared blankly at the wall. The silence of the room felt overwhelming, amplifying her feelings of loneliness and despair. Just then, a soft knock broke through the haze.

"Sunny?" Negan's voice called gently from the other side of the door.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself before responding. "Come in," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The door creaked open, and Negan stepped inside, his expression shifting from casual to concerned in an instant. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe with an ease that belied his worry.

In that moment, the dam inside her broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she sobbed, the sound raw and vulnerable. "You were right," she gasped between breaths. "About everythin'."

Negan's demeanor shifted immediately. He moved quickly to her side, sinking to the floor beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Hey, hey, it's alright, Sun," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing balm against her chaos. "You don't have to hold it all in."

She buried her face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he wrapped his arms around her. His warmth enveloped her, providing a sense of safety she desperately needed. "I'm so tired of feelin' like I don't matter," she whispered, her voice muffled against him.

The girl just wished she was stronger than she was, that her insecurities hadn't followed her into this cruel world. Why did she need validation or love? Why did she always have to fear that no body liked her? Why did she always feel like she was someone to be left behind? It hurt.

Negan tightened his grip, holding her close. "You matter to me," he said softly, his tone earnest. "And I know it's hard right now, but you're not alone in this. You've got me. Always."

As Negan held Sunny close to his chest, he felt a sense of triumph wash over him. Her tears were proof that he had succeeded in getting through to her. In her moment of vulnerability, she turned to him for comfort, and he was there to provide it.

He gently stroked her hair and whispered soothing words, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. She was relying on him, seeing him as the only one who understood her pain. He knew that this moment had strengthened their bond, making her feel that he was her only ally in a world that had let her down.

Holding her tightly, Negan felt he had won her over completely. She was seeking solace in him, and he was more than willing to be her refuge, her father. He reveled in the realization that he had solidified his place in her heart, showing her that he would always be there for her when no one else was.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

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I fear I hate everything about this chapter, but I just wanted it to be like a filler before SPOILER the battle at Alexandria next chapter. So uhm yeah, I apologize for this shittiness.