When she first opened her eyes, she felt a little surge of panic.
She was lying in a strange bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling and clutching tattered sheets to her bare chest. But then the man beside her shifted restlessly in his sleep, his breathing slow and steady, and it all came rushing back.
Her body was flooded with warmth as she recalled his face hovering over hers, his body moving against her as his breath came short and fast. His eyes had been filled with such simple, raw desire and adoration that tears had filled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Despite the situation, he noticed immediately.
He'd stopped to wipe them away, his lips soft against her forehead as he asked her what was the matter, what he was doing wrong. She wasn't able to tell him, couldn't make her voice work, so she just shook her head and settled for urging him on with her hands on his hips. She was content to sigh his name and hold on tight as he found his rhythm again, shivering as he groaned her name.
And now the moonlight was streaming through the window, turning his room and everything in it a soft, pearly blue.
He'd been embarrassed about his house. He never said it but she could tell. He was particularly mortified over his sheets. They were faded blue and white stripes, worn paper thin from too many trips through a washing machine, and she figured he'd probably had them since he was a kid.
She took a moment to look around his room, taking it all in. She hadn't been able to before. She'd been too distracted by his lips and hands, by the smell of his hair and the warmth of his skin.
There was nothing personal to see. No childhood posters or trophies, no family photos. Nothing. Not even a mounted deer head on the wall like she might have expected. Just a bed, a dresser, and a closed closet door.
She felt a sudden pang of sympathy and wondered what his childhood must have been like. She was sure he had no happy memories of it, no desire to revisit it like most. It probably wasn't a safe haven or a comfortable memory.
She rolled over on her side to face his back, wishing she had known him before…before everything. She wondered why life had happened the way it did, why it had to be so unfair to the two of them.
Was everything they'd been through a punishment? Or a test?
Her eyes trailed down the line of his neck, watching the tendons pull and strain as he lifted his head to adjust his pillow. She took in his broad, folded shoulders and the curve of his spine before finally focusing on the silvery purple scars.
They slashed angrily across his back, some overlapping, some set apart from the others. She was drawn to them, compelled to run her fingers over the largest one. The flesh was raised, uneven under her fingertips, and she yearned to soothe the pain no matter how old it was.
Suddenly he stiffened, his shoulders tensing as her touch dragged him from his sleep.
Worried he'd be embarrassed, she scooted forward to plaster her bare front to his back, sliding her arm around his chest and tucking her chin into the crook of his neck. He grunted and reached up to wrap his hand around her wrist, pinning her hand in place over his heart. She smiled as his calloused fingers covered hers, curling around her palm to squeeze it gently.
She pressed a kiss against his neck, breathing in the scent of him as he turned his head to look at her through squinted, sleepy eyes.
She squeezed him tight, aching to protect him from a threat that had long since passed. She knew it was a silly thought, really. If a man as strong as Daryl hadn't been able to stop the abuse, to protect himself, what could anyone as weak as her expect to do?
The light had faded to grey when she awoke again and she knew it was early morning. She was still wrapped around Daryl, could still feel the steady beating of his heart under her palm.
It felt so right, like it always did with him. She realized how easy it would be to stay with him. To really be with him instead of just playing house. To lay down beside him every night and wake up next to him every morning. To pack his lunch every day and cook him dinner every evening. To be the one he came home to. To…to have his children.
No. She pushed that thought aside almost as soon as it occurred to her. She couldn't think like that. It was too painful.
And through that opening, through that gaping wound, the thought of Ed rushed in. It was like having a bucket of ice water tossed into her face.
Ed would never allow it, that fairytale she'd found herself dreaming about. It seemed like his mission in life was to make sure she was unhappy. And he always knew just how to get to her, knew where the punches would hurt the most. Only, now her weakest spot wasn't anywhere on her body. It was curled up beside her.
She knew what would happen if she didn't go home. When Ed found out where she was, and he would find out, there would be hell to pay. Daryl would never back down and neither would Ed. And she had no doubt that Daryl was tough but he wasn't cruel. Not like Ed. Ed had years of experience in making people suffer and Daryl had already suffered enough.
The thought of Ed hurting Daryl, pummeling him with his fists and making him bleed, made her feel so sick that she rolled out of bed to run for the bathroom. But the nausea passed almost as soon as she was upright, the cool morning air raising chill bumps on her bare skin.
She thought of Ed pacing the floor at home, growing more and more enraged as the seconds ticked by. She was almost blinded by a sudden panic, overwhelmed with an urgent need to get home and try to make it better.
She knew the longer she waited, the worse it would be.
She was dressed and prodding around in his kitchen when he emerged from the bedroom, yawning and buttoning up his jeans. He looked pleased to see her there, a tight little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Morning," he mumbled hoarsely, wiping the sleep from his eyes before stretching his arms high over his head, rolling his neck around on his shoulders to get out all the kinks.
She leaned on the counter and watched him with a smile, appreciating the way his skin stretched tight over the muscles in his shoulders, "Morning. Sleep good?"
He nodded once, that little smile widening almost imperceptibly as he added shyly, "Kinda nice seeing you in my kitchen."
Warmth spread across her cheeks and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I thought about cooking you something…" she started, then trailed off as he bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor where it had landed the night before.
"Ain't nothing around here to cook but I can take you out to breakfast," he said, shrugging on his shirt and glancing down to button it up.
"That'd be nice but-" she began, then hesitated as he looked up and fixed her with a curious stare, "Now that you're up, I better be getting home."
He froze, eyes widening briefly before they narrowed into slits. She could see the gears turning in his head, could see his temper flaring.
"You mean to tell me you're going back?" he took a furious step towards her then drew up short, almost visibly restraining himself even though the kitchen counter was still between them, "After what that asshole did to you, you're going back to him? You got a death wish or something?"
She swallowed hard, immediately opening her mouth to defend herself then shutting it again when she couldn't find anything to say.
"'Cause you know he ain't never gonna stop. It's only gonna get worse," he said bitterly, like he was recalling his own experience, "You want me to just let you go back there, knowing what's gonna happen? Knowing what he's gonna do to you?"
When she didn't reply immediately, his fingers returned to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling and awkward in his anger. She heard him curse under his breath as he struggled with them.
Eye stinging, she wrapped her arms around herself, "I-I don't have any choice. I don't know what else to do!"
"Goddammit, just stay here!" he exploded, almost ripping off a button as he threw his hands up in frustration.
She stared at him for a moment, filled with an almost painful longing to do just that. It sounded so good. Too good to be true, she thought, as the image of Ed standing over a broken, bloodied Daryl flashed through her head. It could never last.
She shook her head slowly, watching his anger fade to an expression of defeat. She had to look away from the torment in his eyes before it overwhelmed her.
His head dropped forward, shoulders slumping as she said softly, "You know I can't do that."
She watched him suck in a sharp breath, squaring his shoulders, and it was if that old, familiar wall was back in place between them. The one she'd spent so much time breaking down. He headed for the door without meeting her eyes, hands scrounging around in his pockets to dig out his keys.
"Yeah. Come on then, I'll take you home."
The drive across town to her house was silent. Tense. It seemed like they were the only people out on the road at this time of morning. The streets were lonely and empty except for a wispy fog hanging just over the asphalt.
He wouldn't even look at her as he rolled to a stop just around the corner from her house, where Ed couldn't see them if he happened to be looking out the window.
She should have never involved him in her life. She'd known it was wrong, had known it was stupid that day in her bathroom. If only she had been strong, if only she had some measure of self-control. If only she'd been able to stay away from him and ignore the promise of happiness.
The thought of going home to Ed made her shoulders slump forward automatically. It felt like the whole weight of her world was crushing down on her, making her head spin and her chest ache. She wasn't ready to let go but she was out of time.
Her fingers trembled as she reached to open the door, throat burning and aching with unshed tears. She slid out of the cab of the truck on rubbery legs, turning back to see him staring at his clenched hands on the steering wheel. She waited but he still wouldn't look at her.
"I-" she began, stopping as her voice broke, "I'm sorry."
His jaw clenched tighter and she could see a muscle twitching and fluttering under the skin as if he was grinding his teeth together. He nodded shortly, sharply, but still didn't look up.
As she walked away, she couldn't resist turning back for one more look, feeling a painful tugging at her heart as if it were chained to his and protesting the distance between them. He was looking at her now, watching her through the windshield with a stony expression. She longed to run back to him, to scramble up into the cab and snuggle into his side. To ride away into the sunrise and live happily ever after.
But this was no fairytale.
Shivering from the chill in the morning air, she forced her leaden feet to move on, to move towards home and whatever awaited her.
