twd: the last silence

Chapter 105 – Morning Talks

The next morning, Axel opened his eyes.

Negan was sitting on his desk still awake and Silas stood awake.

"Well god damn you guys make me feel like Billie Eilish.

Protection me so good I'm touched truly."

He smirked while Negan smirk like always.

"So kid talk to me.

What happened."

Axel stared at him for a moment.

Then he sat up, running a hand through his wild black. Silver hair. His shirt was stained with dried blood. His knuckles were bruised and split open. He looked like hell—and still smirked like a bastard.

"Where the fuck do I even start?" Axel muttered.

Negan shrugged. "Start with the bitch Alpha."

Axel's expression darkened. His smirk faded.

"She showed up while I was with Maggie. We were low, recovering… She was wounded bad. I patched her up, used what we had. Then the whispers came—dozens. More. Like a goddamn flood of masks and death. I hid Maggie, covered the café in stone with my own hands. Made it a tomb to keep her safe."

Silas stayed quiet, but listened like a hawk.

Axel leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"So i fight like hell and then we made it back to alexandria and it was nice you know. Life is normal and all that and then she came again for crying out. "

"I fought. I killed. I tore through them like a goddamn storm, Negan. I didn't think, I didn't blink. I just moved. They wanted blood, so I gave it to them."

Negan nodded slowly. "And Beta?"

"I beat that bastard to death with my fists," Axel said. "Caught his goddamn blade with my hands and still smiled. I don't know what happened to me out there. It wasn't just rage. It was like something else took over. Something old. Something buried."

He paused, then laughed softly, bitterly.

"Then I walked to Alpha. Straight through her people. They moved aside, Negan. The dead moved too. Like I was something else. Something more."

Negan raised a brow. "And then?"

"I told her she was stupid. And when she thought she had a choice, I ripped her heart out from her goddamn back."

"Jesus Christ," Silas muttered.

"No," Axel said. "No God in that moment. Just me."

He sat back again, suddenly exhausted.

"I didn't plan to do any of this. I went to Alexandria to stop a war, to play nice, to protect people who didn't trust me. But I stayed. I helped. I flirted with Maggie, made her laugh, protected her and the kid. And when those masked bastards came, I lost it."

Negan was silent for a long time. Then he finally said:

"You scared?"

Axel looked at him. "Of what?"

Negan met his gaze. "Of what you became out there."

Axel didn't answer right away.

"...Yeah," he finally whispered. "A little."

Silas spoke, "They're calling you a god now. The whispers. They kneeled."

Axel scoffed. "I'm no god. I'm just a monster with a smile."

He looked out the window.

"And monsters don't get to stay around kids and warm houses. That's why I ran."

Negan scratched his beard, then stood.

"Well, kid… Welcome home anyway."

---

The sun crept through the battered windows of the Sanctuary, its golden light stretching across steel beams and patched-up walls that once echoed with the brutal orders of a man who ruled with barbed wire and blood. But those days were long gone. The Sanctuary still stood, strong and functional—but the air was different now.

Peaceful. Strange, almost.

Axel woke slowly that morning, blinking against the sunlight that spilled across the old mattress he lay on. His body ached in every direction. Muscles torn. Knuckles split. A wound on his shoulder still burned from where Beta's blade had carved into him. But even through the pain, he let out a satisfied sigh. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he had actually slept.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor. He winced but smiled, because the pain meant he was still here.

Still alive.

After a quick shower—long overdue and ice-cold—Axel pulled on a simple black shirt, rolled his sleeves, and stepped into his boots. His coat hung over a chair nearby, still stained with blood. He left it there.

He wasn't that man today.

The hallway outside was quiet, but warm with light and soft voices. A few workers passed by, and when they saw him, they paused.

"Axel," one of them said with a nod.

"Good to see you back," another added, smiling.

Axel nodded back with a smirk. "Still ugly as ever, Danny."

That got a laugh.

He moved down the stairs slowly, hand resting on the railing. It was strange, surreal even, to be back here. He remembered this place when it was cold. Violent. He remembered the screams that once echoed through its halls, the way Negan used to lean back on his throne and grin like a devil as people kneeled or begged.

But now…

There were kids running in the lower hallway. Laughing. A woman scolded them gently. Someone was cooking—actual food, not scraps—and the smell of warm bread filled the air. Laughter rang out from a group fixing up the fence near the yard.

He stepped outside, the sun brighter than he expected. A few people were working on the garden—yes, the Sanctuary had a goddamn garden now. Axel walked toward them slowly.

A young girl, maybe thirteen, was carrying a bucket of water. It was too heavy, and she stumbled a bit. Before she could fall, Axel stepped forward and caught it, holding it steady with one hand.

"Careful now," he said softly. "You trying to show off?"

She smiled up at him. "It's heavy!"

"Then don't carry it like you're a damn soldier," he replied, setting it down with care.

She giggled, nodded, and ran back to join the others.

He stayed for a while. Helping. Not doing anything major—just holding a beam in place, tightening a loose bolt, sharing advice when asked. The others watched him, but not with fear. With familiarity.

With respect.

Because Axel wasn't just some wildcard anymore.

He was the man who stood up to Negan —not by fighting him, but by changing him. He was the man who taught the Sanctuary how to laugh again, how to build instead of break. He was the man who could walk through blood and fire and still smile like a teenager on his first date.

He was the reason Negan no longer ruled like a king, but led like a man.

And the people remembered.

Inside, Silas sat on a crate with a clipboard in hand, going through inventory. He looked up when Axel came in.

"Thought you'd be passed out all day."

"Body hurts," Axel said, dropping into a nearby chair, "but I ain't dead."

Silas chuckled. "Not yet anyway."

"Still time," Axel replied with a smirk.

The two sat there a while in silence. The sound of distant tools clinking. Birds outside. Voices talking softly in the yard. A breeze blew through the open window, cool and comforting.

Negan showed up eventually. Still leather-jacketed. Still smug-faced. But his walk was slower now. Less cocky. More grounded.

"You look like shit," he said to Axel.

Axel grinned. "Says the man who still uses a bat as a fashion statement."

Lucille leaned against the doorway beside him.

Negan walked over and clapped Axel on the shoulder—right on the healing wound.

"Ah, fuck—" Axel winced.

"Oops," Negan said, not sounding sorry at all.

They laughed.

They spent the afternoon together. Walking the halls. Checking in on people. Talking. Negan joked with the old guards. Axel gave advice to the new ones. They shared a beer in the small greenhouse—Negan's latest pride—and even if it wasn't good beer, it tasted like peace.

Later, Axel walked the upper floor alone.

He stopped at the balcony. The one where Negan used to stand and give speeches like a dictator.

He looked out at the yard. At the people.

At the place he helped turn from a prison into a home.

And he felt something strange.

Not rage. Not grief. Not emptiness.

Just quiet.

It was dangerous, he knew. To feel peace in a world that took everything. But for now, he let himself feel it.

He leaned on the railing and smiled.

This was what he fought for. What he bled for. What he became a monster to protect.

And even monsters, sometimes, needed a moment of rest.

---

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