Between the Thorns

Chapter 1

Daryl had been cold and hungry and tired for longer than he could remember. The deafening volume of the unrelenting music left him deaf to the point where had a been unsure of what was even being demanded of him in order for him to secure his release from the tiny cement closet he had been placed in. He wasn't sure how long he had been locked away from fresh air and sunshine. It felt like months but Daryl knew it was possible that it had only been a few days. Logic told him that his body would be showing more signs of starvation and light deprevation if it had been a long as it felt like. He remembered the feel of his bare feet on the concrete. Riding in a truck. Being back in Alexandria. But he wasn't totally sure if that had actually happened or if it had been some kind of strange fever dream.

The music was gone. That was the first thing that registered in Daryl's mind. The pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his shoulder had dulled to a low roar. He wasn't cold. He wasn't naked. He was lying in a bed and not on the hard cement floor of the place he had been held in for so long.

So many terrible things had happened. Both before the turn and after. But none of them had ever made Daryl want to stop living. Down in that dark hole with only his horrible memories to comfort him, Daryl had wished for death for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Daryl blinked his eyes open. His vision was fractured and hazy at first, one eye still being badly swollen from one of the numerous beatings he had recieved at the hands of Negan's men. Someone was staring down at him. Daryl focused on the eyes of the person first because they were comfortingly familiar. Merle. He had seen those eyes a hundred times before. In real life and in his dreams.

"Merle," Daryl croaked, this time speaking the word aloud. He reached for the man, sure in that moment that he had died inside that tiny cell. His brother was waiting for him on the other side. They could finally be together again.

"He's awake!"

The loud declaration was followed by several high pitched shrieks that had most certainly not come from the man Daryl had believed was standing over him. He pulled his hands out from under the fresh smelling blanket that was covering him and scrubbed at his eyes. After a few hard blinks Daryl was able to focus on what was actually in front of him.

Two young girls were peering down at him. The older of the two was the one that had his brother's icy blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back into two long braids that fell down over her shoulders but several curly tendrils had escaped and were fluffed up around her face. The girl grabbed a glass of water that was resting on a nearby table and held it out for Daryl to take. He attempted to grunt out his thanks as he reached for the glass.

"He's a beast!," the younger of the two girls squealed. She darted away like a little brown mouse. Daryl didn't follow her with his eyes but he could hear her girlish giggles bubbling up from near the foot of the bed he was lying in.

"Girls!" A woman stepped into view. She grabbed the water from the older girl and shooed both girls away. Daryl sighed as the water was removed from his reach and placed back on the small table nearby. "I told you girls to stay away from him!," the woman fussed, scolding the two girls, "This isn't funny!" It seemed the girls didn't agree with the woman's declaration, because Daryl could hear them both giggling now from a little further away. The woman stepped forward and motioned for Daryl to sit up. She placed a pillow behind his back, touching him as little as possible given that she was assisting him physically. Once he was sitting in a slightly more upright position, the much coveted glass of water was returned to him.

Daryl didn't need to be told twice. He chugged the water while he had the chance. Before it could be taken from him again. The woman didn't comment on his thirst. She simply took the empty glass and refilled it from a pitcher. This sequence of events was repeated several times.

With his thirst quenced, Daryl pushed himself into a more upright position and looked around. He was in a small apartment. It was set up much like the one that Negan and Dwight had said could be his if he joined them, except this one was a little larger and looked like it was set up for a small family to live in. He was in a bedroom but through the doorway he could see a small sitting area. There was only one large bed in the room, so he guessed the two girls he had seen slept in another area. No matter how he strained his mind, Daryl had no idea how he came to be in the place or who the woman was that had given him the water. She looked oddly familiar but he couldn't even begin to put a name to her face.

"Where am I?," Daryl asked. The woman sighed like she had been hoping he might wait at least a few more moments before peppering her with questions.

"You're still in the Sanctuary," she replied. Her tone implied that he had sounded a little too hopeful. The woman sent the girls out of the room, telling them to go and finish up breakfast. She clicked the bedroom door shut behind them. Taking a better look at her, Daryl was plagued again by the idea that he had seen the woman somewhere before. And not on his way into the Sanctuary. All he had seen then was the inside of the bag on his head. She was medium height with dark brown hair that was piled into a messy bun on top of her head. Her clothes were clean and her snug fitting jeans were ripped in a way that suggested they were meant to look that way.

"Whatever test Negan was giving you...," the woman said as she crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled at Daryl, "you must've passed."

"Why am I here?," Daryl asked. The woman bit her lip, her momentary facial expressions betraying the emotions that were battling inside her. She swallowed down whatever was upsetting her and forced her pretty face back into the neutral mask she had been regarding Daryl with when she handed him the water.

"You live here now," she announced plainly. It was clear from her tone that the woman wasn't particularly pleased about the situation or with Daryl's presence in what he was now guessing was her bed. She stepped forward and uncrossed her arms, leaning slightly forward to grip the wooden footboard of the bed with her hands. "My husband was one of Negan's lieutenants. He was one of the men you and your friends killed when you attacked that outpost."

Daryl's mouth fell open. He had killed those men in cold blood. Without a second thought. The idea that some of them may have had wives and children and families somewhere waiting on them to come home had never crossed his mind. Daryl had snuck up behind one of those men and slit his throat wide open. Left him to bleed out on the ground until the walkers smelled the blood and came for him.

As Daryl stared at the wounded woman in front of him, he was forced to consider the possibility that the man he had killed for some corn and his share of a cow had been this woman's husband. He was forced to consider the possibility that maybe he wasn't the good guy in all this. That maybe there were no heroes and no villians anymore. The Savoirs. Alexandria. Hilltop. Rick's group. Even Terminus. They were all just people trying to survive. Trying to stay alive.

"M'sorry," Daryl said. The words felt horribly lame and inadequate even as he spoke them. He was sure there wasn't a right way to say sorry killed the man you loved but I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. The woman turned her back. Daryl expected her to storm out of the small room but she just lifted her hands to fan at the tears that were forming in her eyes. When she turned around she had regained control of herself and her emotions.

"Sorry ain't gonna bring him back... but thank you for sayin' it anyway," she said, her voice thicker than it had been before his apology. After a few deep calming breaths, the woman went on. "I don't ever want to know if you were the one that did it. Either way, you were at least partly to blame for his death," she said, pausing a moment to let that sink in, "So since I wouldn't agree to be one of his wives, Negan says we are your responsibility now."

Responsibility. Daryl had never been responsible for anything in his life. Not a dog. Not a steady job. And definitely not a wife and two children. He realized he must have been looking at the woman in front of him with an expression of disbelief and horror on his face because she quickly added, "I ain't any happier about it than you are so you can quit looking at me like I pissed in yer cornflakes."

The woman walked around the bed and took a few tentative steps closer. She sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to let the side of her hip touch Daryl's legs. The woman was close enough now that Daryl could smell her. She smelled like fresh oranges and laundry soap. Having her so close made Daryl more aware of the fact that he was close to naked under the blanket that was covering his body. The woman spoke again, but this time in a lower tone with a touch of pleading to her voice.

"My girls don't know anything about any of that mess," she explained, "I told them you were a friend of their father's. Please don't say anything to them." Daryl nodded. He had no burning desire to tell two sweet little girls that he had possibly murdered their father and left the man's body to be eaten by the dead. His only plan at the moment involved figuring out how to get the hell out this place and back to his people as fast as possible.

"There's no point in arguing with Negan once he makes a decision," the woman added with a sigh of frustration, "so we might as well make the best of it." She stood up and tugged at her jeans, pulling them up higher on her hips. Pointing at a small pile of clothes that were folded up on a chair she added, "Why don't you get dressed and come have some breakfast with us, you've got to be hungry."

At the mention of food, Daryl heard his stomach start to grumble. He nodded again at the woman. She turned and headed for the door, clearly having no interest in seeing the parts of Daryl that he was covering up with her freshly laundered bedding. Daryl wasn't overly fond of staring at women's bodies, especially women that had already made it more than clear they didn't have any romantic interest in him.

Maybe it was just curiosity. Or maybe it was the joy of finally having something besides his own hands to look at after so long alone in the dark. Either way Daryl found his eyes roaming over the woman's body as she walked away from him towards the bedroom door. She had an appealing shapely curve to her thighs and the jeans she was wearing accentuated the firmness of her ass. The loose fitting t-shirt she was wearing had a cut out section in the back of it that hung just low enough to give him a peek at the strap of her black lace bra.

"Wait," Daryl called out, stopping her just as her hand was gripping the doorknob. She stopped and turned towards him, her eyebrows raised inquisitively as if to ask without words what he could possibly want from her. "You never told me yer name," Daryl said. Their introduction had been far from ordinary. But he still felt like he ought to have some idea what he was supposed to call her. Especially if they were going to pretend to be friends in front of her daughters.

"It's Jean," she said. Then she smiled. Not a full toothy grin or anything. It looked more like she was feeling a little silly that she had just spit out so much personal information about herself without bothering to even tell this man the most basic of introductory information. But Daryl decided he would take it. Even a sad smile from a pretty girl was still about a thousand times better than a dog food sandwich any day of the week.

"I'm Daryl," he offered. She hadn't asked and maybe she already knew his name. But he figured an introduction was something to start from.

** Jean is partly inspired by the character Verinia from the movie Spartacus and partly by the actress Adelaide Kane. Inspiration photos are up on my tumblr account **