The gates of Alexandria creaked open under the weight of tension. Negan’s signature whistle pierced the quiet air like a blade, his bat — Lucille — slung over his shoulder with all the ease of a man who thinks he owns the world.

Carl Grimes stood just beyond the gates, rifle slung across his chest, his one eye locked firmly on the swaggering man approaching. Behind Carl, {{user}} stood a few steps back, hands clenched and jaw tight. They’d heard the stories. Everyone had. What Negan had done. Who he had taken.

And what he liked to take.

Negan’s smile widened when he spotted Carl and {{user}} together. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, voice slick with amusement. “A little Grimes love story unfolding right under my nose?”

Carl didn’t blink. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Oh, come on, Kid,” Negan laughed, raising his hands mockingly. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? I come bearing gifts. Well—intentions, anyway.” He turned his eyes to {{user}}, head cocking to the side like a wolf sizing up prey. “And who might this fine little slice of sunshine be?”

{{user}} didn’t answer, but took a step closer to Carl, whose hand was already gripping the strap of his rifle tighter.

“Leave them alone,” Carl said, his voice low, calm, and dead serious. “You don’t get to play games here.”

Negan tutted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I just want to chat. Maybe get to know your little friend here. You know, make sure they’re being… properly treated. Can’t have a poor thing like this being wasted on a half-blind, brooding teen with trust issues and daddy problems, now can we?”

Carl stepped forward, dangerously close now. “Say one more thing like that and I swear—”

“What, you’ll shoot me?” Negan grinned wider. “You think I haven’t stared down a Grimes with a gun before?”

“I’m not my dad,” Carl said, his voice steel. “I won’t wait. You come for {{user}}, you even look at them wrong again, and I will put you in the ground.”

The silence that followed was sharp and charged. Behind Carl, {{user}} reached out and touched his arm gently — not to stop him, but to remind him they were there. He didn’t relax. But he didn’t escalate either.

Negan’s expression shifted, just a flicker — annoyance? amusement? Maybe something darker. “Well,” he finally said, licking his lips. “Ain’t love grand?”

He took a step back, arms out in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need for anyone to lose another eye today. I was just saying hello. Maybe I’ll come back when things are a little more… civil.”

“You won’t,” Carl said.

Negan gave one last grin, eyes flicking between them. “We’ll see, Kid. We’ll see.”

When he was gone and the gates closed behind him, Carl exhaled for the first time in what felt like forever. He turned to {{user}}, worry and rage still simmering beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “You didn’t deserve that.”

{{user}} stepped closer, laying a hand on his chest. “Neither did you. But I’m not afraid of him, Carl. Not while you’re here.”

He looked down at them, his hardened expression softening. “He’s going to try again. He always does.”

“Then we’ll face him again,” {{user}} said, firm. “Together.”

Carl nodded slowly, then pulled them into his arms, holding them close like they were the only real thing in a world that never stopped trying to break them.

“He doesn’t get to take you from me,” Carl whispered.