Trigger warning! - chapter describes sibling death and suicide.
This chapter is pretty long and heavy, but necessary for the story and their relationship.
Chapter 18 - Moonshine revelations
"Would ya quit it?" Daryl finally barked. "Quit buzzin' around, and just sit down!" He cracked the second bottle of moonshine, slugging down another few gulps, stoking the fire in his belly.
"Alright, Cranky Bear." she jested. At his glare, she continued. "Haven't you heard of Cranky Bear? He's a-" The glare intensified, and Tahlia made an exaggerated 'oh shit' face. "Uh, never mind. You're actually nothing like him." She bit back a smile, taking a seat on the other side of the couch and tucking her legs underneath her.
"Why ya always gotta be so damn cheery?!" he snapped.
"Well, someone around here has to be!" She scooped up an empty jar from the floor, and held it out to Daryl to fill with liquor, then took a tentative sip.
"Ugh, I don't think I'll ever get used to the taste of this stuff. I would much rather have a biiiig glass of red wine." She sighed dreamily. "That would be amazing. There's this area in Australia, the Barossa Valley - the most delicious shiraz comes from there, definitely my fave."
Daryl shot her a caustic look. "Red wine? Australian shiraz?" He hadn't even heard of that type of wine before. "Well la-di-dah, fancy lady. Damn, you are just something else, aren't ya?" He shook his head in annoyance.
She tilted her head at him, a quizzical look on her face. "Sorry, should I not talk about wine? Ok, what would you like to talk about then? Tell me about you. What was your best Christmas present?"
"Nuh-uh. We ain't doin' this." Daryl gestured between them. "We may be here, but me and you ain't ever gonna be friends." He said it like it was a dirty word.
"Whoa, way to break my heart!"
"Why you gotta do it? I seen ya since day one, tryin' to be best friends with everyone all the time, tryin' to joke and get everyone to like ya. Why ya gotta try so hard?"
Tahlia shrugged, still seemingly unaffected by his digging. "I'm a people person."
"Well I ain't. And it may work on the others, but not on me. People like you do not gel with people like me."
"Ooh, who are 'people like me'?" Tahlia was genuinely curious as to what brush he was painting her with.
Daryl waved a hand around in a circle, his tone sharp, his voice loud. "Fake, fuckin' rich ass, easy life people."
"You think that coz my daddy could pay the bills that made life easy?"
"Spoken like a true rich bitch." he spat. "You and your golden life." Taking another swig. "You had it so easy, you got no idea what it's like for everyone else. You ain't had it rough one little bit."
Tahlia looked amused. "You got me all figured out, huh?"
Daryl sat forward, narrowing his eyes, scorn dripping from his words. "Yeah, I do! I heard all about ya – you got a rich ass family, growin' up in your rich ass neighbourhood on the right side of the tracks, wine and summers on a vineyard, fancy boarding schools, fancy overseas trips. You had a silver spoon in your mouth your whole life, sailin' through with nothin' bad ever happenin' to ya. You live in la-la land! What's the worst thing that's happened to ya? Let me guess – you broke a nail when playing lacrosse?" He wasn't exactly sure what lacrosse was, but he was pretty sure only preppy rich kids played it.
Tahlia tapped one finger to her lip thoughtfully. "Ooh - y'know, Jennifer Grady wore the same dress as me to prom. That was pretty terrible." she said blithely.
Daryl banged his fist on his thigh. "Can't ya just be serious, for once?! Always tryna be a smartass!"
A whirlwind of emotions was swirling inside him now, so he latched onto the one he was most familiar with. His rage. He jumped up to tend to the fire, angrily stoking the flames. "Your idea of problems is having to choose which tropical island you're gonna go to on holiday. Ya got no fuckin' clue, ya got no idea what real problems are. Living wrapped in cotton wool with your happy fuckin' family."
"Money does not necessarily equal a happy family."
Her calm demeanor was really riling him up, only intensified by the alcohol in his system. He wanted her to argue with him, to get angry, shout.
"Yeah fuckin' right. Bet you were so sad, huh? All, boohoo daddy, please don't send me to fancy boardin' school! Let me stay here with you in our big fuckin' mansion!" he mocked in a high-pitched tone.
Something hard flickered in Tahlia's eyes with that comment, and he knew he had finally touched a nerve.
"Not everything is how it looks from the outside. We've all got scars, even if you can't see them." she remarked evenly.
"Scars?! Ya wanna talk to me about scars?!" On a whim, Daryl whipped his shirt up halfway, exposing the thick, ropy scars that crossed his back. "These are scars. Whatchu got, huh?"
As soon as he'd done it, he was immediately filled with regret and shame. He'd never willingly shown anyone those scars before, and certainly had never thought he'd do it to prove a point.
Tahlia's brow flickered in shock at the angry picture marring his flesh. "Nothing compared to you." she said sincerely. "But my life hasn't been all rosy."
He snorted, dropping back onto the sofa and taking a long slug of his drink. "What scars ya got then? I wanna know what could be so painful in your charmed life. What is it – your daddy didn't hug you enough as a kid, so that's why you hug everyone you can get your damn hands on now?"
Tahlia's eyebrows shot up, impressed. "Damn, it took a lot of time and money in therapy just to get to that little nugget, and you figured it out in a second! You're good, Dixon."
"Quit jokin' around, jackass! You got this little happy-go-lucky act going on, you float around like nothin' bothers ya. You ain't real!" He was jabbing at her, trying to find that nerve again.
"Just because I like to be happy and keep things light-hearted, doesn't mean I'm not real." Tahlia replied with narrowed eyes.
"You ain't! Ya wanna be best friends with everyone that crosses your path like it means nothin', ya don't take nothin' serious, ya wanna joke and laugh like life's a fuckin' game!"
"What, so if I was more like you - serious to a fault, walking around like I'd rather die before crack a smile, then I'd be more real? I just choose to smile and put my shit behind me, not wear it around my damn neck like you do." she retorted, a spark of anger in her voice now.
He screwed his face up. "Naw. Y'ain't got a fuckin' clue. Ya had it easy before and got it easy now. Ya float around like everythin's all peachy, but ya got your head in the sand. Ain't nothin' changed for you now 'cept your money's no good anymore. And you ain't no good to no one. You're damned useless." Knowing that had been a trigger for her in the past, Daryl hoped he'd incite something with that comment, hoped he'd hurt her.
Tahlia had been doing her best to keep her emotions in check, but his last comment coupled with the strong moonshine pushed her over the edge, and a white hot fist of rage punched through her stomach. "Screw you, Dixon! You're the one who doesn't have a fuckin' clue. You don't know shit about me!"
He felt an angry satisfaction at finally incensing her; he could see the fury blazing in her green eyes. This is what he wanted.
"Go on, then!" he prodded fiercely. "Whatchu got? Tell me some shit."
"No!" she sniped childishly. "Coz if I tell you, then you're gonna feel like an asshole and you're gonna have to apologise."
Daryl snorted derisively. "That ain't never gonna happen. Go on, tell me 'bout how your mama missed your ballet recital, and how your daddy didn't buy you the pony you wanted."
"How about - how my sister died, my momma blamed me and killed herself, and then my daddy disowned me. Is that what you wanna hear? Or are those scars not ugly enough for you?" Tahlia bit back at him acrimoniously.
Daryl slowly lowered the bottle in his hand, feeling suddenly sober, his aggressive energy immediately receding.
They both stared at one another for a long moment, then Tahlia folded her arms across her chest and gave a sharp exhale through her nose as she snapped her gaze over to the fire.
"Goddammit." she cursed under her breath. She couldn't believe she'd just let that out. Normally she was a master at keeping her cool, not rising to the bait, not getting riled up – but Daryl fucking Dixon seemed to know exactly how to push her buttons.
He was still staring at her when she finally flicked her gaze back to him.
"You know, that's really fucking annoying that you do this to me." she told him sternly. "I don't normally crack open very often, but it seems like you're the one who's always there when I do. I don't know what it is about you, but there's something... something. Feels like you can just lift my lid and take a good old look inside whenever you want."
And he could see then that she was feeling just as wary and confounded by this something between them as he was. That he wasn't just another someone to her. There really was something more and deeper pulling at both of them.
It was clear she was still reeling from that realisation, even when she added, "Dick." with a little twinkle in her eye.
A quick half smile quirked his lips at that, then he grew serious again. "So... tell me. Tell me what happened." he said softly.
"I just told you. That's what happened."
He shook his head. "Naw. Tell me."
Drawing her bottom lip in and out of her mouth, Tahlia considered what to tell him. Normally, she drew on a very abridged version of the story when she had to tell it - one that left out any indication of her guilt, and one that definitely left out all the sore points of her father. Very few people that she'd met after all of that had happened knew the full version. Michonne was one of them. She looked up at Daryl who still had his unblinking blue stare fixed on her, waiting.
And, like he knew what she was thinking, deciding, he inclined his head ever so slightly. "All of it."
Her brows flickered, thrown for a moment by his perceptiveness, keenly feeling what she had alluded to before – that he was holding her keys and could unlock her doors whenever he pleased. It was unnerving, but a little irresistible. That he wanted to look at her. Know her.
She cocked her head to the side. "You gonna tell me about your scars?"
Daryl tipped his head back slightly in contemplation and chewed on his thumbnail. "Maybe. You first."
Tahlia scrubbed a hand over her face, and sighed. Well, she'd already let the bones of it slip, so might as well flesh it out for him.
"Ok. My story then. So yeah, I really did have a happy enough family for a while - loving parents and their little twins. Identical, green-eyed, dark-haired girls - the spitting image of our momma. Looked exactly like her. Charlotte was older – by four minutes - she was the fiery, gutsy go-getter, real fun to be around, and I was more of the keep the peace and play it safe twin. Balanced each other out. But we were besties, inseparable. Anyway. Life was good, everyone was happy.
Then, when we were nine, we were down by the stream that bordered our property – we weren't normally allowed to go down on our own, the banks were steep and rocky, and the water could really pick up some speed when it had been raining. Which, when we went down there, it had been for two days. Charlotte dared me to climb up to the big rock on the bank but, of course, I was too chicken shit. She wasn't scared of anything, so up she went. She was nearly at the top, turned around to look at me, then slipped and fell all the way down the bank into the stream. I could see she'd bashed her head pretty bad, but I was afraid to go in after her.
I waited so long. Too long. The current swept her down some, she snagged on some rocks in the middle of the stream. By the time I got to her, her eyes were shut, her lips were blue, nasty wounds on her head. I tried to drag her out, but I wasn't strong enough. I tried to hold her head above the water, but the current kept knocking me down, and I kept dropping her. I screamed and screamed, and the gardener from over the way heard me. He jumped straight in and fished Charlotte out like she was light as a damn feather. But, she was already gone.
I know it's cliché, but I felt like half of me died that day with her. I still miss her every damn day, still replay that moment and wish I had done more to save her. Should've been braver, faster, stronger. It broke my momma's heart. I know she blamed me; wished it had been me instead. But I was still there, and Charlotte was gone. She couldn't stand to look at me because all she could see was Charlotte, didn't want me anywhere near her, so I had to make myself scarce.
Anyway, fast forward - momma sank into a deep depression, kind of catatonic, hardly got out of bed. Daddy got her all the help he could, but nothing seemed to make a difference. He was devastated that the love of his life was now just a shell of herself. Then, when I was 11, I came home from school one day and saw that her bedroom door was open, she wasn't in there. Something was up. I looked everywhere, and eventually..." Tahlia gave a hard swallow as a faraway look descended over her face. "...found her in the barn, hanging from the rafters-"
Daryl let out a small puff of breath. He could tell that she was just trying to get through the story, to get the details out, to keep her emotions at bay. He wanted to tell her to slow down, to let the pain through, that it was ok. He wanted to hold her hand, hold her, but all he could manage was to sit still and silent and wait for her to carry on.
"I tried to hold her up, but I wasn't strong enough. I tried to climb up and cut her down but I couldn't manage that either. So once again I just screamed for help, like a useless fucking idiot. And so, momma was gone too. After that, daddy was broken. His soul mate was gone. And now he couldn't stand the sight of me either, I reminded him too much of her, and of everything he'd lost. All he had left was a useless girl who couldn't keep her sister and momma alive.
He threw himself into work, was hardly ever home. He tried to keep me away from him as much as possible, so sent me to that fancy boarding school-" she shot a look at Daryl, using his word for it, "where I spent the school terms. Every summer, I was sent to stay with my uncle on his vineyard in Charlottesville. He taught me about growing grapes, about wine making, had me taste the wines. I didn't like the taste much then, but at least those summers were happy. What else?"
She tried to remember all the bits that Daryl had brought up before. "Oh, yes, my fancy overseas trips – I think you meant Japan – Daddy sent me there for 6 months on an exchange. That's where I got interested in martial arts, weaponry. I met some incredible people there who had so much talent. They were fighters who had such strength, mentally and physically – I knew no one would have died on their watch. I realised that's what I needed. I wasn't brave or strong enough to save my family and I would never let myself be in that position again, where I was so weak, so useless – my pet fucking hate. So I immersed myself in training, practiced a lot – not like I had anywhere else to be, I'd gotten the hint from daddy by then – and that was that. So yeah, those are my scars." she finished with a hollow smile. "Wow. You really did get the long version. I've never told anyone that much detail before." she commented, semi-surprised.
He stared at her.
Already the composition of her had changed in his eyes. Lines softening and morphing into something else, and now she was in perfect focus. He could make sense of her now. Understand her.
Her hang-up on not wanting to feel useless, to not let people suffer because she felt she'd failed in the past; her need to make and maintain friendships, be accepted, to draw people close to make up for a family she couldn't hold on to; her desire to keep things light-hearted to stop herself from falling too deep; to keep the peace, to maintain a sense of happiness – all of this a coping mechanism, to protect herself from further pain.
He was the opposite – hot-headed, quick to anger, a loner, mistrusting, guard always up – his coping mechanism to protect himself from further pain.
In his quest to doggedly point out their differences, to drive a wedge between them, he'd unwittingly unearthed the one similarity that was more significant than anything else. And goddamn if hearing all that didn't make him want to open like an umbrella over her, protect her from anything bad raining down on her again.
"Tahly." he breathed. "What happened... none of that is your-"
"Whoa there, Nelly." She held a hand up, her usual easy tone back in place now, pulling herself away from her emotions. "It's ok. All this happened 20 years ago, so I've had a long time to come to terms with it. I mean, I carried so much guilt around for so long, but eventually through therapy and time, I've let a lot of it go. I mean, I can't change any of it, it's all just part of who I am today, and that's ok. You were still right about my life. I know I've been lucky, I've had a lot of opportunities that other people haven't had, I've never had to worry about money, about putting food on the table. And I've had some really incredible people in my corner." She smiled and held out her empty jar towards him, not wanting to dwell on the ghosts of her past. "Please tell me we still have some of that paint stripper left, coz I could really use a drink."
She watched him carefully as he filled her up. "So. You wanna tell me about yours? You don't have to. But, if you want to."
Spinning the bottle in his hands, Daryl was silent for a moment as he realised, with surprise, that he did want to. He did want to share some of his story with her. He glanced up at her, a little nervous, then back down at the bottle.
"Got my scars from my daddy. Those were the worst, but there were a hella lot more where that came from. He was a mean drunken sonofabitch who loved to knock us 'round all the time. Me and my brother Merle. Just had to look at him the wrong way and he'd come swingin'. Merle took off as soon as he could, so I had to take all of what daddy was dishin' out. Liked to remind me what a worthless piece of trash I was, how he wished I'd never been born. Never said one good word to me my whole life."
The pain and shame of his life felt like ashes on his tongue, but if she could work up the courage to share, then so could he.
"Momma was kind, but nothin' was as important to her as her wine and cigarettes. Got so wasted one night she dropped her cigarette and burned herself and the house down. Nothin' left of her. So, there was just Merle, really. He was the only one worth somethin' anyways. And even then, he was a real asshole most of the time. Rubbin' people up the wrong way, startin' fights from thin air, doped outta his mind most days, but he looked out for me. He done some shitty things, but he was alright. All I had, anyway. Then, not long back, he got bit, and I had to put him down. So. Just me now. But kinda feels like that's what it's always been, really."
That was the most he'd ever shared about his family in one go. It felt good.
Tahlia's eyes were wide as she listened. "Damn. That's a rough ride. You didn't deserve any of that. What happened to your dad?"
"Heart attack. Sonofabitch died all on his own, bottle in hand. No one to give a shit 'bout him." Daryl shrugged. His dad's death didn't conjure up one shred of emotion in him. "What 'bout yours?"
Tahlia raised her eyebrows. "Like, did we live happily ever after?" She let out a laugh. "No, Daryl. We did not live happily ever after." She gestured around the room. "Then the world turned to shit and most everyone died then rose back up and started eating those of us that are left, and now we're filthy scavengers living hand to mouth and trying not to get torn to shreds by the undead."
Daryl rolled his eyes and aimed a soft kick at her foot. "Y'know what I mean."
She dropped the sarcasm. "The short answer is – nothing. His work was everything to him - he was an investment banker - so I went to college and studied finance and other boring business stuff in the hopes that I might be able to relate to him that way. I did pretty well, moved back to Atlanta, applied for an internship at his firm – which he declined, so rude. And I think since then I maybe saw him twice? I emailed him all the time just to say hi, check in, let him know what I was up to. You know me... always hopeful-" she tapped the inside of her left arm. "I truly believed for years that he would welcome me back into his life, we'd be a family again. But... he never replied to my messages. And I'm... 32 now, I think? - must be about that now I guess - that's a lot of fucking emails." Tahlia gave a wry smile. "So, that was that."
"Ya sure ya had the right email address?" asked Daryl seriously.
Tahlia stared at him for a moment, then let out a loud belly laugh, surprising and pleasing Daryl at the same time.
"That is a very good fucking question." she giggled, wiping at her eyes. "Wouldn't that be a tragic twist of fate – father and daughter never reunited because daughter can't spell." A fresh burst of laughter escaped her, then eventually she caught hold of herself. "Yes, I did though. The last I heard from him was when I was about 25 or 26. He sent me a message to tell me that he was moving back to England, and he wished me all the best for my life. But he didn't want to see me or to have anything more to do with me. So, I guess I'll never know now what happened to him."
"Y'care?" snorted Daryl contemptuously.
"Yeah well, you know... he's my dad." replied Tahlia mildly.
"Ain't much of a fuckin' dad." muttered Daryl, unable to hide his disdain for her father.
"Neither was yours." retorted Tahlia with a raised brow, then said softly, "Hey. Your daddy didn't know shit, by the way. I've only known you for like, three weeks, if that, and can already see that you're worth more than most people I've met in my whole life."
Flushing, Daryl picked at a hole in the fabric of the sofa. She was at it again. Making him out to be better than he was. Saying it so easily like it was just obvious to her. It still made him bristle. And feel good.
"Your daddy ain't so smart neither. Pushin' you away." he muttered, the words falling far short of what he really wanted to say.
Taking a long drink, Tahlia thought for a moment, before fixing him with a bright-eyed gaze, lightening up again.
"So, do you feel like an asshole now, or do you still think I'm living my charmed life with my head in the clouds never having been through any shit?"
Daryl wrinkled his nose apologetically. "The first one."
"Good. I did tell ya. You think you can be friends with 'someone like me'? Or is that still off the table?"
"Still deciding." Daryl said wryly, hating that she pulled him up on all the shit he threw at her.
Tahlia grinned at him, then suddenly a knowing look spread across her face, and her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer.
"Oh. My. God. Are we... bonding?!" She bit her lip in mock excitement.
Daryl made a face. "Why y'always gotta make it weird by saying shit like that?!"
Tahlia let out a delighted laugh, and jumped up to stoke the fire. "Wanna hug it out? Feels like we should hug it out." she suggested playfully.
"Not happenin'!" Daryl exclaimed. "Let's just drink, ya pain in the ass."
Tahlia chuckled. "I'll take that."
Sitting back down, she gazed into the flames. "You know, I always wonder what it would have been like if Charlotte were still around now. She would've been badass out here. She was ballsy as hell, kind of run in with guns blazing, act now, questions later kind of girl. Loyal to a fault. The kind of girl you want on your side." She looked up at Daryl as if only just realising that was a pretty decent description of him too. "Actually, I bet you would have really liked her."
Daryl studied her curiously for a second before speaking, an incredulous tone to his voice. "Y'know, I think you woulda really liked Merle."
"Why are you saying it like that?"
"Coz ain't nobody liked Merle! But somethin' tells me you woulda. Think you woulda got his sense of humour – ya don't offend easy. Think you and him woulda had a laugh. Think you woulda got him, seen past all his bullshit and just liked him for what he was."
That realisation was eye-opening for Daryl, like just knowing that this girl would have got on with his offensive, redneck, trash-talking brother, would have accepted him, seen him, the way that she seemed to accept and see Daryl – somehow made him feel more affiliated to her, like the gap between them was lessened, like that feeling of inferiority he was so used to suddenly disappeared with her.
They talked easily for a while, swapped a few stories, drank a little more. All of Daryl's earlier anger had completely faded away, and whether it was the moonshine, or something else, he felt warm all over.
Damn girl had gone and surprised him again. Broke down every one of the negative assumptions he'd made about her and somehow managed to create an even bigger, even softer spot for herself inside him.
From the other side of the sofa, Tahlia yawned.
"Ugh. We should get some sleep."
"You go. I'll take first watch." offered Daryl. "I don't sleep so good these days."
Bunching up her jacket up as a makeshift pillow, Tahlia lay down with her head by the wooden arm of the sofa, and her feet towards Daryl. She wriggled around trying to get comfortable, but eventually sat up, and gave him a calculated glance.
"What?" he said suspiciously.
"Nothing." she replied innocently. "Just that... looks like you got a real comfy lap."
"Nuh-uh! You ain't lyin' on me!" He looked horrified.
"Come on!" she wheedled. "The sofa arm is wooden! I can't lie on that. It's so uncomfortable!"
"Then I'll just sit on the floor, and you can have the whole thing to yourself." He started to push himself up, but winced as he moved.
Tahlia quickly put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't be silly, the floor will be even worse, and you need to keep your leg elevated tonight. It's not a big deal, I've got my jacket, I'm just gonna..." She carefully moved closer to him, and placed the balled-up jacket on his lap. Her every move was slow and deliberate, and she maintained eye contact, like she was trying to pacify a wild animal. "-and now I'm just gonna..." She laid her head down on the jacket, her back to the back of the sofa, and curled up in the fetal position. "And you won't even know I'm here." she finished in a stage whisper, peeking at him through one eye.
"Goddammit!" Daryl cursed under his breath but didn't attempt to move away. He glared down at her, but her eyes were already shut.
"Oooh... you really are comfy!" she exclaimed.
"No talkin'!" snapped Daryl, resigning himself to the situation – but not altogether unhappy about it - and settled back into the sofa.
It wasn't long before she was asleep, and Daryl carefully reached down beside him, lifting his own jacket and draping it over her. As he watched, her eyelids fluttered, and her body gave a sudden jolt. Reflexively he dropped a hand to her shoulder to settle her, stroked her arm a couple of times in reassurance, then let his hand rest on her forearm.
Suddenly he felt like letting out a loud laugh at the thought that just a day ago he had been steadfast in his resolve to keep his distance from her, and now look. Closer to her than ever before in all senses. Michonne had been right after all. There was no point in trying to resist it. Despite everything, he had to reluctantly admit that they had possibly just crossed over into friendship.
After a couple of uneventful hours, the fire was starting to die out. He hated to wake her, but they needed the fire for safety and warmth. He tried to shuffle gently out from under her, but her eyes sprang open and she sat up like a shot.
"We good?" She cast him a wild look, checking if she needed to be ready to fight.
"We're good, we're good." he said softly, reassuring her. "Just the fire." He got up to stoke it and had a big stretch, getting the blood flowing around his body again.
"Ok, you need to get some sleep now." Tahlia told him, as she positioned herself at the other end of the sofa.
"Naw, I'm ok. Ya weren't out that long. You go back down."
"Uh-uh. That was enough for me. You need to rest - we've got a lot of walking to do tomorrow, and you're already gonna be struggling because of that knee. Don't want you moaning that you're tired too."
Daryl grumbled, but eventually acquiesced. "'Kay, I'll sleep."
She positioned her jacket on her lap and beckoned to him. "Bring it in sugar!" she said with a grin.
"Uh, naw. I'm good. I'm stayin' on this side."
"Don't be such a baby. You need to lie down, pop your leg up there, and get some real shut eye." She reached over and tugged on his elbow.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was lying on his back, his head in her lap, while her forearm casually rested on his chest. He'd never laid his head in anyone's lap before. There was something surprisingly comforting about it. Or about her. He wasn't sure, but he didn't want to explore those thoughts right now.
"Sweet dreams, angel!" she grinned.
"Don't make it weird." he grumbled, quickly shutting his eyes.
Tahlia watched her hand rising and falling with the breath in Daryl's chest as he slept, fully aware of his muscled body, the brute strength and power that radiated from him. Her eyes drifted up to his face, his bangs having fallen to the side so she had a better view of him than she'd ever had before. There was something boyish and innocent about him when he slept, that hard and wary look in his eyes hidden away as he relaxed. She had a sudden urge to caress his stubbled cheek, but she imagined that if she woke him up with that, he'd probably strangle her in a heartbeat.
To say that she was surprised by how the evening had ended up would be an understatement.
Coming on this run with Daryl, she hadn't held any hope that they would come out the other side as friends - at best she hoped that she might get to know him a little better, that he might let his guard down momentarily. Certainly, in the past week there had been a few moments of something with him, but for the most part, he had kept the barricade between them firmly in place. And for a while today, she thought she had been getting nowhere. Going backwards even, after he had started shouting at her.
Until... well, it had felt like banging on a glass window. Banging against the resistance which held and held until all of a sudden it didn't and then in a startling mess of shards and noise you were through. Just like that, he'd pulled her in.
They had shared their stories, entrusted rarely aired pieces of themselves to one another, allowed the scars of old wounds to be exposed; and although Daryl would never admit it, they had definitely bonded a little.
And now he was asleep on her.
She couldn't help but feel a little privileged that he now seemed to trust her enough to be lying on her like this - she could tell it was well out of his comfort zone. Something had shifted between them this evening. She had meant what she'd said before, that there was something about him. Inch by inch he was letting her closer, letting her slowly peel back his dark layers to reveal flashes of brilliant colour underneath, intriguing her and making her want more.
A/N: Tahlia's story is based on a combination of stories of 2 friends of mine (used with permission), and I absolutely don't mean to make light of any issues, or have her come across as glib about any of it, just trying to tell it in the way of someone who is looking far back into the past and retelling events that they have unpicked numerous times over the years in therapy, and who is attempting not to let herself drop too deep into the emotion of it all. x