Ain't as Bad as They Look

Part Two: Safe From the Past

Sasha walked outside to sit with Daryl, since he wouldn't come inside. This would be the second night Daryl slept on the porch; the third day since she had caught a glimpse of his scarred back. The second night he couldn't bring himself to sleep in the same room with her. The second night he stayed away from her. He seemed fine the night it happened. They even had a talk about it; short, but, a talk. Daryl rarely talked, and he didn't talk about himself, ever-not with Sasha. But, two nights ago, he had listened to her words and used some of his own. Now, he sat outside, smoking cigarettes and chewing his nails; away from the people who were his family; away from her.

The night was cool. It was early June in Virginia and the nights were still cool and airish. She asked him if it was okay to sit with him...he was glad she had come out, but didn't say so. He only shifted over, offering her a place to sit. After a few minutes, she asked him; asked him if she could see them-see his scars.

"Can I see your back?" she asked him without any hesitation in her voice. Daryl blew out a cloud of smoke and actually started to tremble. He looked over at her...she had a calm expression on her face; a look of acceptance, with no judgement in her eyes. Her eyes held his gaze.

He glanced away and asked, " Why...why do ya want to?"

"Because, I want to...need to. I won't look away...I promise...I'm not afraid to look at them. Show me? Please?"

With a heavy sigh, he slowly took off his vest, then, the jacket he wore underneath...she took them both and laid them across her lap. "Can I touch them...touch you?" she asked quietly. He nodded. Sasha looked at every inch of Daryl's back...she ran her fingers over the long, thin marks that were years old. It was cool, but Daryl felt like he was on fire. At the same time, he felt the heat burn through him, her touch made him shiver. Her touch was firm and sure, yet gentle and tender. It felt like a jolt of electricity...his breath caught in his throat. In his mind, he knew she could see his skin quiver where her fingers touched.

She didn't cry; he was right about that-he didn't need her tears. She held them back and before she could think about it or before he could flinch away from her, she kissed one long scar that ran almost completely from shoulder to shoulder. She kissed it once, twice, three times. Each time, she let her lips linger a second longer on his skin. He closed his eyes and tried to hold still. With tremendous effort, he managed to do so. When he didn't jerk away, she trailed the pads of her fingertips over his skin in the most sensual way Daryl had ever experienced. He had not expected to feel what he felt as she touched her lips to his back one last time. She placed the tips of her fingers on either side of his face, turned his face toward hers and kissed his lips as lightly as she would a new baby. She handed him his vest and jacket, then stood to leave. Before she went inside, she said over her shoulder, "Good night, Daryl."

Daryl put out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, grabbed his crossbow and went to walk the fence; he was as anxious as he had ever been. How could she want him?...and she did want him; he wasn't completely oblivious. He was aware that he was in a heightened state of something. What to label this state: lust, desire, attraction, was hard for Daryl to even think about. Emotions were frightening things for Daryl. He was more afraid of his feelings than the walkers. Walkers could be managed, handled. But feelings scared Daryl all to hell. He was feeling her hands on him as if she were right next to him. He still felt her lips on his. "Better if ya don't think about it...her," he told himself. There were no walkers when he needed them. Running from the undead was a great distraction from, well, everything else. His mind would not leave Sasha, not tonight. He made his way to the front gate. Jason, one of the Alexandrians, was on watch...the same post Sasha usually manned. He was, once again, thinking of her...nothing but her.

When he thought it had been long enough for her to be asleep, he went back home. He would not be sleeping on the porch tonight. He went upstairs as quietly as he could, but Carl and Rick both checked, guns in hand, when they heard him on the stairs.

"Good," Carl said, as Daryl passed by on his way to their room. Carl turned around and went back to the loft room where he was now sleeping more and more. Carl liked his family in tact and whole. He didn't try to hide it. Family was the most important thing in the upended world; it, the people you loved, was precious. Rick looked totally relieved to see Daryl inside the house and not so uneasy. It was a good thing. For Rick, they, Daryl and Sasha, were a good thing.

When he entered the room he shared with Sasha, he could tell she was already asleep. She stirred only a little bit before going still again. He was more than pleased that she did not start up out of her sleep when he came into their room: she was at ease, she felt safe. He saw that she had placed his blanket and one of the comforters on the floor in a neatly folded stack. He arranged them on the floor next to the bed. He was glad for the extra cushion and extra cover: it would be cold before morning came. "This cool spell will last 'nother day or two," he thought, as he removed his vest and jacket. He set his crossbow down within easy reach. He made sure to leave her a little path just in case she needed to get up during the night. He lay down and tried not to think about her fingers on his back or her lips on his. He tried. He knew he could have her if he wanted. Not just sex, but, have her, as his own. In reality, he already thought of her as his own. He knew she wanted that for them; to be together, thought of them as together. He had gotten used to hearing their names said in tandem; with the "and": "Daryl and Sasha will do so-and-so. Sasha and Daryl went here, Sasha and Daryl went there,"-these were frequently said and heard around the community. He didn't protest or correct. He liked it that way.

He looked up at her as she slept an arm's length away from him. He let out a shallow exhale and tried to sleep. He wanted to reach out and stroke her arm, but didn't dare. He said good night even though she could not hear him. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

When he woke up, Sasha was lying curled up against his back, snuggled under a comforter with just the top of her head visible. "When did she git down here?" he asked himself. He hadn't awakened when she lay down next to him. He felt the warmth of her body against his own...it bore right through him; right through to his gut. That was why he hadn't awakened-it was the deepest, calmest sleep of his life.

He got up and left her under the mass of covers that his blanket had become. He went into the bathroom to pee. He pulled on his boots and then his jacket and vest. His thoughts went back to what happened with Sasha on the porch a few hours ago. He shook the memory of her touches from his mind. She was beginning to stir, searching for his departed warmth. He called her name: "Sasha, git in the bed. It's cold."

"Where are you going? Is it still dark? Can I come?" she asked in a sleepy voice. She got up and lay on the bed. Rather than leave the covers on the floor, she wrapped them around herself so she could continue to have Daryl with her...she inhaled his scent. If he was annoyed or angry that she had lay down beside him during the night, he didn't show it; and annoyance came easy to Daryl.

"Nah, not this time," he answered. "Im'ma be quick, it's cold out there. No needa you comin' out wid meh when Im'ma be back in a lil' while. Jus' gonna check the fences and make sure everybody that's s'pose to be on watch, is. Go back ta sleep." He put on his jacket, picked up his crossbow and went downstairs.

He saw the faint lamp light under the door of Judith's room as he passed through the hallway. Michonne was up with Judith, although it wasn't light out yet. It was over an hour before light would appeared in the sky. Judith was not liking being in a room alone. She was so used to being in a room crowded with all the people who loved her. She was still not used to a quiet room-a room without breathing, snoring, or even, quiet talking among three or four members of her family who could not sleep.

Daryl could understand how she felt. He was usually restless and with the way he was feeling about things with Sasha, he was even more so. He was wishing that he could go back to the morning of three days before. The weather had not turned cool yet; that day was warm. If he and Sasha were doing the same thing together this morning, he would have on his jacket, too; not just his vest. She would never have seen the scars on his back. He wouldn't have to decide; decide whether to take the risk; take the risk of letting someone in, letting someone close. To be sure, not just someone, a woman-Sasha. That would mean dealing with all his shit, dealing with his past. That. Was. Terrifying.

"The dead walkin' the go'damn Earth and I still ain't safe from that motherfucker!" Daryl spat out in anger. "What gotta happen fa meh to be safe from that bullshit, safe from the pas'?"

To be continued