Part Nine
Jesse's dreams were full of monsters and madness, of hands gripping him from every direction and pulling him down into a river of blood. There was red flowing into his nose, his throat, choking him and not ever letting him go. He tried to grip for something, anything or anyone; he wondered where Daryl was – had he left Jesse alone? Was he tired of him? Was he just like the others? Like Mr. White, like…
"Jesse… Jesse!"
Someone was shaking him, someone was pulling him out… but where? There was blood everywhere, he was trying to push through it, but it was no use…
"Jesse!"
Suddenly his eyes few open and he found himself staring into Daryl's eyes. He must have been yelling or screaming or maybe even wailing, because his mouth was open.
"You were talking in your sleep and jerking around. Thought you might be having a seizure," Daryl explained matter-of-factly. Jesse shuddered, trying to remind himself that he was out of whatever place he had been in, that he was free, that he was safe at last.
The fire had gone out at some point during the night, and Jesse wrapped his arms around himself to try to stay warm.
"We should go," Daryl said, "If we want to make good time, that is."
"Where are we making good time to? Do we know where they are?"
"Not exactly. I know someone who'll know, though. He might need a bit of convincing, though."
Jesse's face turned white.
"What kind of convincing?"
"Don't look at me like that." Daryl reached out and gently tapped Jesse's shoulder. "I won't hurt him. We'll just… figure it out as we go on. I know him. He'll see reason eventually."
Jesse slowly nodded; what else could he do, at this point? But he still shivered as soon as Daryl turned away, still remembered dissolving bodies in acid and watching the body count rise to the point that he couldn't count it anymore. Too many names, too many lives.
It felt like someone was standing on his chest to think about it; it felt like he was weighing his own soul and finding it a lead weight.
Yet he climbed on the back of Daryl's bike, and he held on for dear life.
They must have driven miles, and Jesse lost track after a while – every space on the open road seemed to look exactly the same, and seemed to blend into one another, almost as if the tiny houses and farmland were bleeding into each other, as if they had been cut open.
Jesse slumped, after a few hours, or maybe a few days, against Daryl's arm, and the other man slowed down then.
Jesse found himself being incredibly grateful; others would have just let him fall off, fall into nothing at all and fade into oblivion.
"It's time to rest, I guess," Daryl told him, and pulled off into a small motel parking lot. He helped Jesse off of the bike, and the younger man wondered why they weren't camping again – didn't Daryl want to stay off the beaten path, make sure that neither of them were seen?
It was a good question – who was Daryl hiding from? Or was he just trying to keep Jesse away from Jack, away from the police? Was he doing some of this, most of this for him? Jesse wished he could ask him to stop, to tell him that he didn't deserve this, not really.
"So we're staying here?" Jesse asked. The place looked like it was falling apart – it made the Crystal Palace look like the Hilton, if he was going to be completely honest. Then again, you didn't get any more under the radar than this. Jesse was pretty sure even the roaches would pass by this one.
"That's right." Daryl must have guided him up the rickety metal steps and into the room, but Jesse didn't really remember much of that. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a bed and staring up at the ceiling.
"How are you going to track them, anyway?" Jesse asked. "Do you have a real idea of where they could have gone, or are we just hoping that we'll hear something or that this guy will give us some good information? When are we talking to this guy – and what do you need me for?" Jesse scratched at his head.
"Okay, here's the full plan. I've been coming up with it as we go along, honestly. But this guy has a connection with Ed – that's Carol's ex-husband. They used to work together on some stuff that was pretty shady."
"Not surprised," Jesse mused.
"So we'll go tomorrow and we'll talk to him. He's not far from here. We'll pick up in the morning and walk there, then come back here and lay low for the rest of the night. I don't want the cops or Ed getting a whiff of what we're up to, so…"
Jesse was listening, or trying to at least. Sleep seemed to be cradling him, seemed to be drumming on his temple and refusing to let him go. There was a fear in it, however, something that was hanging around his neck and whispering in his ear.
"Tomorrow we go find this guy, and I…I do what, Daryl?" Jesse asked. "I'm not sure if you've missed it, but I'm sort of a mess. Yeah, we've been training, I know, but if it actually… Actually comes down to it, if you're in actual danger, than I…" Jesse remembered Mike, remembered putting the gun up and shooting that man in Mexico, remembered staring at his own hands after like it had been someone else who had done it. Remembered holding Mike in his hands, panicked, sure the older man would die.
Feeling helpless.
"Sleep, Jesse," Daryl told him in a voice that was almost forceful, almost commanding. Jesse was surprised to find he liked that. "Sleep now."
