They made it to the garden encountering several walkers, but their numbers diminishing as they got closer. Finally, they arrived at an entrance tree. The sun was setting in the chilly, early autumn air. Daryl eyed the tree. His body stiff as a floorboard. The black cat snuck out from between the thorny bushes that surrounded the garden. Prowling from side to side. Stopping with an evil eye on him. Hissing. Then sitting down. Eyes not wavering. Freja had a concerned look on the cat as if to ask it what was up. The cats had always been friendly with Daryl. Right from the start. She cocked her head at the cat. Thinking. Then turned her eyes to Daryl. Looking him over as if she was searching for some specific answer that would miraculously be written somewhere on his clothing. His eyes fixated on the cat and chewing absentmindedly at the inside of his lower lip. "I'll sleep out here". He couldn't look at her. In surprise her eyebrows went up and then she frowned. The sheer number of walkers in the woods should be enough for him to know how bad an idea that was. There was no shelter. He always slept on the ground anyway, so inside the garden or outside should make no difference in this context. She sighed realizing that there was not much point in arguing with him "well... at least you won't be crushing any of my plants. I have a hammock now. We can set it up in a tree." He nodded with his eyes still averted. "All right". He can't go in. The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind. She knew him. He would never do something this stupid unless there was a really good reason. And right now, there seemed to be an actual physical barrier preventing him from going to that place, where he had spent so many tranquil hours.
They found some good branches for the hammock and Daryl hung it, while Freja went to get some food for them. Coming back, Daryl was sitting in the tree looking at the black cat. It still didn't exactly have a friendly look on its face. Freja climbed the tree and they ate mostly in silence side by side on the same branch. "Thanks" she said, starting off to re-enter the garden "for getting me home". She stopped and with her back on him she said "you know... it doesn't have to be this complicated. You could just tell me what you want. Or what you don't want for that matter." She took off. Back to her beautiful garden full of flowers and sweet fruit.
Daryl climbed the hammock and got comfy. One arm behind his head and looking up at the leaves covering the dark sky. The striped cat joined the black one and for a moment the two cats sat there in silence. Staring at him. It was unsettling. Eventually the black one left. His eyes fell on the treetops inside the garden. Searching for her hut. Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath through the nose. His entire body was hurting. He had lost count of how many walkers they had killed. Their fluids had dried up on his clothing reminding him why he preferred wearing black. The smell of lavender coming from the hammock managed to defeat the struggle against the multiple other odours and with-it soft memories entered his imagination. His eyes snapped open, but then he breathed in again. Letting his thoughts roam as they would. In all the time he had known her, she had never judged him once. Not for his past, for getting Glenn killed, and now for just leaving without a word. No matter how hard he tried, getting away from her was like trying to stop a river from flowing by throwing pebbles at it. There was no use. And at the end of it all, he really didn't want to get away from her. Feeling the soft embrace of sleep take him he wanted to flow with the river rather than stop it and accept, that it might only go on for a short while. Or a long while. Until it would drop over the side of a mountain in a waterfall or take him out to sea. No matter the result there was no reason to hold back anymore. Something was on the hammock. He took a peek and saw the striped cat making its way into the hammock. Soft soundless paws feeling their way on his legs and making it to his lap. Here it curled up with its little face towards him. Yellow eyes still wide open with no intention of going shut.
His lids felt heavy and he closed them again. The memories of her skin against his hands like soft satin. He fell asleep to the memory of her enjoying him. Accepting that he couldn't control or change how he was with her, but that she apparently didn't want him to either. The night felt like it had passed in the time it took to blink once. The sun was up, but it felt like he had not slept at all. The cat was still warm against his thighs. The smell of chicory tea registering with him as he turned his head. Sure enough, she was sitting in the tree with a steaming hot cup. She still had stains of blood and other walker fluids in her hair and on her face. The only thing that looked washed were her hands. She didn't seem to bother at all "Do ya ever sleep?" he asked, realizing that he had never actually seen her sleep. She was already up whenever he woke. "A few hours, yes. But not much". Her face was expressionless until she tightened her lips to a straight line. She handed him the cup. "I think the cats do all the sleeping around here" she smiled and made a gesture at the furball in his lap. He didn't take the tea but shook his head "why don't we have that inside?" A vague smile caressed his lips, but it was enough for her to notice. She still had no idea, what had been going on with him for the past weeks, but somehow it felt like none of her business. She still held out her hand "why don't we empty this one so Cat can get his nap?" Daryl took the cup with one hand and let the other run over the soft fur of the cat. It started purring.
They took down the hammock and moved inside the garden. It had changed significantly since the last time he saw it. It was still beautiful. She giggled looking at him. "You look like hell" she said. Raising a brow, he looked her over "ya ain't much better ya self". She sighed "we should get cleaned. It just always seems so pointless. We'll be clean for what? An hour? If we're lucky" she shook her head "breakfast first. Then we decide if we do a quick wash down in the stream or if we go to the lake". He frowned and looked at her "what lake?" She explained about the place where she would bathe "pff! Nah!" He said smiling and shaking his head. "You have a bucket and the stream. Just gotta get the goo off and we're good". It was part of what he loved about her. He need not occupy himself with how he looked or smelled because in all likelihood she would be just as bad. Or worse. Loved. He held his breath shortly. Looking at her in thought.
After they had eaten, they went to the stream. They both undressed. Freja down to her bra and nickers and Daryl only took off his shirt. They washed the clothes first in the clear water. Then they filled buckets of water and poured it over themselves. It quickly turned dark brown with old blood and dirt. "I should get some soap from the Hilltop" Freja sighed. Looking at her skin. The top layer of dirt was gone, but there were still patches which would require hot, soapy water and a scrubbing. She turned away from him and undid her bra. She didn't dare find out if he was looking at her and just swiftly removed it with her back to him. Then put on a cleaner shirt. Turning around she looked at him in the fresh autumn air. With a sigh she handed him a shirt she hoped would fit him. She was never going to make a move on him again. The sadness weighted down on her head and shoulders and she appeared smaller than usual. He took the shirt keeping his eye on her. Putting it on, he rubbed at the inside of his palm where dry skin was coming off in little flakes. His nails still dirty around the edges. By the time he had gathered the courage to do what he wanted to do, she had left. Starting her work in the garden.
Taking a deep breath, he let the cool morning air cleanse him and just for a few seconds he enjoyed the simplicity of birds singing, flowers blooming and the illusion of safety. Then he walked over to her. Still rubbing his hands. "Freja..." she looked up from the bean stock "yeah..." she avoided eye contact and he moved up to her. His shoulders tense and fingers twitching nervously. Biting the inside of his cheek. She just kept picking beans, but froze when she felt how close he was. Her hands settling on the dry branches holding up the beans. To make sure she wasn't moving. His hands finding their way to her waist causing her to hold her breath. Coarse fingers moved her hair away from her neck. It was still wet and hanging down her back to dry. She tilted her head slightly to make sure it stayed where he had put it. The heat from his body was trapped between them warming her back and causing sweat to gather like tiny pearls on her skin. The hairs on her neck rose as goose bumps ran over her skin from the neck down. Feeling his breath on her. Soft lips and stubbles connected with her skin. Once. Twice. His hands pulling her in to connect with him, then moving from her hips to her shoulders. Turning her around he raised her chin and a tranquil smile passed over his eyes. A look she had never before seen on him. The look of unconditional surrender. Not to her, but to himself. He wanted this, so did she, apparently, so why not just take it. Dare to hope, that it wouldn't get ripped away from him like everything else had. That he wouldn't poison what they had with the impulse driven devil inside of him, or rather trust, that the poison had no effect on her. Parting his lips, he leaned in. Softly connecting with hers. Then slowly but purposely letting himself go. Allowing himself to deepen the kiss. To let his tongue meet hers. His hands moving into her hair. His lips leaving hers and his forehead resting on hers. Finally breathing, she let her fingers slide around his wrists, feeling his skin. Daring to tilt her head and take his lips again, a muffled moan escaping her. Letting him know she enjoyed it. He pushed against her. Accepting that what he wanted was to grab at her to the point where pleasure turned into pain and then no more. His shirt was being pulled up from his trousers. Eager fingertips running over his skin. He grabbed her wrists and leaned the side of his head against hers. "Not yet missy" he whispered. She uttered a displeased sound and leaned her head back only to feel his tongue on her throat. His lips. His face pressing against her. Every nerve in her skin felt like it was screaming for more of him. Like a million tiny drops of water at the boiling point hitting her skin. Driving her to want him closer. Finally, he released her wrists and she immediately let her hands slide under his shirt. Pulling it up. He took half a step back and pulled it over his head. Almost like a mirror image, so did she. Exposing her full breasts. Slowly he cupped them wetting his lips. Leaning down and licking the nipple softly bringing it between his teeth. Biting it lightly. Quiet sounds of pleasure escaping her throat as she let her fingers slide trough his hair. She was calm. Enjoying having him close. Letting the excitement flow through her body. His lips moved up over her chest to her collarbone and then her neck. He pushed her slacks down and they took her panties with them. Elegantly she stepped out of them. Leaving her naked in the morning mist of autumn. She should be cold but wasn't. Closing the gap between them she opened his belt buckle, her eyes tracing over his chest to his face. His eyes were on her. Dark and analysing. Taking everything they saw in, and etched it into his memory.
Although she was naked, it was the stare into her eyes that caused her to flush and brought on a sense of being exposed to her. She tensed up. Eyes flickering. His right hand came to her face. His thumb running over her cheekbone. The gentle touch bringing her eyes back on his. Staying there until she closed them, to focus on the taste of him. His soft lips and tongue more eager this time, as he invaded her. Holding on to her tightly and laying her down on the dry grass cover used to prevent weeds from sprouting under the berry bushes. His frantic movements to get his pants off. Finally undone he laid himself on top of her. Kissing her breasts. Then her lips. Pushing his hips against her and a groan escaped his throat. He let his body mould over hers and felt her hands gently run over the skin of his back. Pressing against her in one long stroke, he finally made the connection causing her to gasp from the excitement of feeling all of him at once. His movements slow and gentle with his eyes fixed on hers until she pushed forcefully against his upper body encouraging him to lift it up. She followed. Pushing him all the way up to a seated position with her on his lap. She rocked rhythmically. Holding his face in her hands, kissing it. His hands running down her back and up again. With every stroke sending waves of pleasure through him. Her panting increased. Turning into moans. Until her muscles tensed up and her skin glistened from sweat in the ever-increasing sunlight. Her focus entirely on the sensation of him inside of her. She buried her head in his neck and his in hers, as she tightened around him clenching her jar as she pressed against him to get him as deep as he could reach, the orgasm welling over her body like a cold shower. Pushing against her in return, her tightness was more then he could handle and he released deep inside of her. The throbs of him causing her to reexperience the cold water, bursting out a moan ending in a blissful laugh which quickly ended. He would have found it odd, if he didn't already know, that this was how she was.
They sat there for a while in blissful ignorance that the world was no more, and that every step outside the garden seemed to become increasingly dangerous with each day. Right now, their minds where clear and free, of the otherwise always cluttered mix, of thoughts of then, tomorrow and now.