Chapter 40 - Nightmares
After spending the morning with Daryl, Tahlia had been floating on air all day, however, as night descended, so did she.
There was still a certain level of apprehension that crept in with the darkness, no matter how at ease the sunlight made her feel. So, although it was late, she was reading by flashlight on her bunk trying to keep herself awake as long as she could, when a rattle on her cell door nearly had her jumping right out of her skin until she heard a quiet,
"Hey, ya decent?"
Getting up to pull the privacy sheet back, she found Daryl standing at her door, pillow in hand and a mattress over his shoulder.
"You on your way to a sleepover I haven't been invited to?" she asked in mock offense.
To her surprise he nodded then inclined his chin. "Yeah, here. Lemme in."
Letting him past, he dragged the mattress in and dropped it on the floor next to her bunk and chucked the pillow on top.
"Uh, what are you doing?" she asked, hands on hips, head tilted to the side curiously.
"Sleepin' over." he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
They stared at each other for a few moments, and he tried not to let the fact that she looked cute as hell in a pair of tiny jersey shorts, a t-shirt with clearly no bra underneath, and her mussed dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, show on his face.
"Gonna keep ya safe."
He said it so earnestly, that Tahlia's heart wrenched painfully in her chest, and she nearly melted. He wanted to keep her safe from her nightmares.
"Ya needa get some sleep."
Tahlia shrugged. "Sleep's overrated." she said wryly.
Daryl frowned at her. "I mean it. Y'ain't no use to nobody if you're wanderin' around dead on ya feet."
"There's a lot of people wandering around dead on their feet out there these days." she joked, and it earned her a severe glare.
"Y'know what I mean." replied Daryl gruffly. "End up gettin' hurt or gettin' someone else hurt if you ain't rested. So, I'm gonna help ya get some sleep."
Tahlia bit back a smile at the scolding and nodded in compliance. "Ok. But you don't need to sleep on the floor. Sleep on the top bunk."
"Ya got all ya shit up there."
"I'll move it."
"Naw. Be fine just there."
Where I can keep an eye on ya.
She indicated the thin mattress. "That's not enough against the cold concrete."
"Slept on a lot less than that before."
"That's the deal. I'll sleep if you have a decent bed."
They stared each other down for a moment again, then Daryl shrugged in compromise. "Fine."
Between them they sought out another 3 mattresses from around the cellblock and piled them on top of one another, giving a lot more protection and padding from the concrete. It also raised the height of Daryl's sleeping pad much closer to Tahlia's low bunk.
"Luxury." he declared as he flopped down on his bed, tucking his hands behind his head.
Tahlia lit a candle in a jar on her table, and crawled into her own bed, lying on her side to face him.
"Want me to hold ya hand?" His lips quirked even though he was mostly serious.
Contemplating this, Tahlia shook her head. "I can't hang my hand over the side of a bed. Not even a little. I'm still scarred from a campfire horror story I heard when I was young about a lady and her dog."
"Drip, drip, drip in the shower?" Daryl knew the one. He grabbed Tahlia's hand and pulled it to his mouth, hanging his tongue out and pretending to lick the length of her palm.
With a tiny squeal she snatched her hand away as if burned, her eyes wide. "Oh my God, don't! I still can't even joke about it!"
Daryl chuckled and shook his head. It didn't faze her that they lived in a world where the dead didn't die but instead tried to rip the flesh from your bones, yet she was still afraid of a campfire tale.
They made idle chat in hushed tones for a while about some of the latest runs, some of the prison residents, then Daryl could see her eyelids growing heavy. Reaching out, he laid a warm hand over her own.
"Sleep now." he murmured.
Tahlia smiled groggily at him through hooded eyes, feeling safer and calmer than she had in days, then slipped into slumber.
Watching her for a while, the candlelit shadows flickering across her face, Daryl was filled with a keen longing to always be this close to her, to spend every night with her, but immediately shoveled those thoughts back to the dark recesses of his mind before he got lost in them.
At some point he dozed off, but was later suddenly awoken by her strangled cry. Sitting up quickly, he observed her for a moment. She was tangled in her blanket, limbs flailing desperately, breath sharp and shallow, fear etched across her still sleeping face. It wasn't until she threw a hand out so forcefully he could almost hear the skin scraping from her knuckles as it dragged down the rough concrete wall, that he jumped into action.
"Tahly!" he whispered, climbing onto the bed next to her.
She thrashed again and nearly decked him straight in the nose, so he straddled her, holding her legs still with his own, pinning her hands beside her head.
"Tahly." he tried again, but to no avail.
Her cries escalated and she bucked violently beneath him, throwing her head from side to side. Belatedly, he realised that given the nature of what her nightmares were about, pinning her down would only likely aggravate them, make her more fearful. Cursing himself for being so stupid, he immediately rolled off her, and instead, caught one of her hands, and held it to his face and dropped his other hand to her cheek, stroking her gently.
"Tahly, Tahly." he intoned.
Feeling braver, he leaned his face closer to hers. "Beautiful girl, come back to me." he pleaded in a whisper, hating the anguish she was going through.
Still, she thrashed and moaned in the grip of terror. He didn't want to shake her, to be anything but gentle with her, but she didn't seem any nearer to waking. He racked his brain, then had a thought.
Leaning his lips right against her ear, he rasped, "Hey, pain in the ass! Get outta that nightmare, girl. Come back to me, ya giant pain in the ass."
In that moment he wished he had a better pet name for her, something more suited to the way he really saw her.
With a sudden gasp like the lifesaving breath of a drowning woman, Tahlia's eyes flew open and her body stilled.
Daryl held her hand tighter against the scruff of his cheek and murmured to her. "Hey pain in the ass, I'm here, you're safe."
Her eyes searched wildly and she seemed to recoil for a moment, then green eyes met blue, and she relaxed.
"Daryl." she breathed. "Daryldaryldaryldaryl."
She repeated his name over and over until it became one long nonsensical incantation, and he nodded against her palm, still stroking her cheek with his other hand. Abruptly she went silent and threw her arms around his neck, and he scooped her up, holding her tight.
"I got ya." he murmured as he stroked gentle lines up and down her back.
Eventually she pulled away, and gazed at him, an unfocused look still tripping on her face. "You're here."
Daryl kissed her hand. "Keep ya safe. Lay back down now. Sleep. I'm here."
Nodding obediently, Tahlia lay down. As Daryl went to ease himself off her bed, she clutched at his shirt.
"Wait. Will you lie with me?" Her voice so tiny it didn't sound like her at all.
He hesitated for a brief second. "Course."
"Wait." she said again. "Will you... will you take your shirt off?"
Daryl's eyebrows shot up, and Tahlia let out a laugh, a little of her usual self again, and squeezed her eyes shut, hands raking over her face.
"Oh no, that sounded so pervy! I didn't mean it like that! I meant like when babies are born they say that you should hold them against your bare skin, that skin to skin contact helps them to settle or something? And... oh God, I don't even know what I'm talking about, ignore me!"
But when she looked up at Daryl again, he was already topless, shirt discarded on the floor, his muscular chest even more defined in the flickering light, causing her breath to catch in her throat.
He didn't care what her reason was. He'd do anything she asked of him.
"But..." he made an apologetic face. "But, if it's meant to be skin to skin, then ya need to..." he indicated her t-shirt, and she sat up with a start.
"Oh." she said as if it hadn't occurred to her. "Oh, you're right." Her hands then brushed over her chest. "But I'm not wearing a..."
Daryl bit back the 'That's fine by me.' that was on his tongue, because really, he knew that if Tahlia were half naked next to him, he'd come undone in seconds.
She sat for a moment looking dazed, then held a finger in the air. "I'll put one on!" she announced, slipping off the side of the bed.
Daryl lay on his back, watching as she whipped her t-shirt off without a care, searching on her table for a bra. She had her back to him, but in the flickering candlelight he could see the alluring curve of the side of her right breast. Watching her brazenly for a moment, he felt desire stirring deep in his belly, then abruptly he turned away, chastising himself. He was only here in this moment with her because sick fucks had looked at her like that then acted on their desire, using and abusing her and taking what they wanted, leaving her with scars and nightmares and broken pieces. And now he was here to pick up those pieces, hold her together, rebuild the broken. When he turned back again, she was standing by the bed in her tiny shorts and a lilac lace bra, looking lost, reconfirming his desire to protect her, to keep her safe at all costs.
"C'mere." Holding a hand out, he tugged her to him, pulling her across his body, nestling her against his chest, safely between him and the wall.
A tiny mewling sound escaped her mouth as she curled up against him, head tucked under his chin, an arm across his chest. He was impossibly warm, and hard and soft at the same time, and she had never felt so secure.
With one arm wrapped tightly around her, Daryl stroked her hair, her face, her arm with his other hand, murmuring softly until he heard the slow steady breathing of her slumber.
As she shifted gently against him, the lace of her bra rubbed against the side of his chest, her nipples firm and evident. She felt so soft and sensual lying there he could feel himself hardening, and he tried to will it to stop, but to no avail, and had to settle for fervently hoping that she wouldn't move her leg that was hooked over his any higher. All sorts of sordid scenarios were jumbling in his mind, and he did his best to push them to the side, to remind himself of the point he'd made before about those sick fucks.
And in a tangled mess of lust and guilt and shame, he fell asleep.
It was perhaps a couple of hours before the next nightmare took hold of her and she bucked in distress, a cry escaping from deep within her. Daryl was awake instantly, the sound of sobbing next to his ear, fraying his heart at the edges. Rolling her onto her back, he propped himself up on his side over her, stroking her face again.
"Babygirl, my babygirl." he whispered, deciding that's what she was to him, liking the way that it felt on his lips, liking that in the dead of night he was free to call her that.
Call her his.
His heart clenched as tears leaked from her closed eyes and her chest racked with anguished sobs as the clutches of her nightmare wrung her out. Here, under the cloak of darkness, with only the dying light of a single candle to illuminate them, their half-naked bodies entwined, he felt brave, brazen, a different version of himself, someone he wished he could be, someone that she deserved, able to believe that what he was to her was something more, something bigger.
So, he bundled her into his arms, then words just started tumbling out of his mouth, things that he would never vocalise in the waking light of day.
"Baby, don't cry, I'm here, keep ya safe. Don't cry beautiful, I got ya, ain't never gonna let ya go. Gonna stick right here with ya, you got me now, girl, ain't never gonna leave ya." And while he was murmuring to her, he softly and repeatedly kissed the tears from her cheeks, the salt tingling against his lips, sealing his promises.
Eventually her ragged breathing grew smooth and even, and her eyes flickered, registering him, and she smiled and touched her fingers to his cheek before her eyelids drooped closed again and she slipped away once more. Scooting in behind her, he held her close, their bodies curved perfectly together. He kissed the back of her neck, her shoulder, and pulled the blanket over them, drifting off again.
One more nightmare clutched her in the wee hours of the morning, but it left her much quicker than the others did, as if her subconscious had already learned that the presence of the hunter meant safety and protection, and she relaxed back into his arms once more.
He could get used to this. Holding her close, kissing her, being hers.
With the grey light of the early morning, Daryl woke slowly, finding that the brazenness and self-assurance of the middle of the night had left him.
And so had she.
Kicking the blanket off, he sat up on the bed, feeling her absence yawning widely in the room.
The stark reality of the intimacy – well, the one-sided intimacy – of what he had done, said, in the night came crashing down and a deep feeling of shame and guilt immediately licked right through him, scorching every fibre of his being. The memories of the night burst painfully in his mind, horrifying him.
How could he have done that?
Spilled his heart to her, taken his shirt off, encouraged her to do the same, held her half-naked body, touched her like that, like he had the right to, like he had a claim on her, kissed her – he had kissed her while she was asleep!
And what if she remembered all of it? (Or remembered none of it - he hadn't yet decided which would be worse).
And now she was gone.
The feeling that he had seriously crossed a line opened up a sick pit of dread and despair inside him. What the hell had he been thinking? She had just relived the most horrific thing that had ever happened to her, and now, when she needed him the most, needed to be able to trust him more than ever before, he'd sworn to keep her safe but ended up groping her like a sleaze, taking advantage of her.
Fuck.
And the worst part was that he wanted more. He wanted to do it all again, but more. He couldn't quash the thoughts of being in that bed with her again, peeling the rest of her clothes off layer by layer, taking her beautiful naked body in his hands, letting his mouth explore every inch of it, hearing her moan... fuck.
He was an asshole and he'd betrayed her trust.
Furious at himself, and at her for making him feel all of this shit he'd never had to deal with before, he stalked out of her cell and into the crisp morning air.
"Hey! I've been looking for you all day." Tahlia caught Daryl's wrist in the courtyard that evening as he tried to escape without talking to her.
Pulling his arm from her grip, he stopped but didn't meet her eyes.
Tahlia dropped her hand knowing that something was off with him, but carried on. "I just wanted to say, thank you so much for last night. That was a really lovely thing you did for me. Sorry I slipped out this morning, it's just that you were sleeping so deeply... I figured I probably kept you awake the whole night so you must have needed some rest."
Daryl just grunted, hoping like hell no one could overhear this conversation, take it to mean something that it didn't.
"I actually felt rested this morning, so... thanks again."
"Well hope ya have some luck gettin' sleep tonight on your own." he said bluntly.
A look of disappointment flashed across her face briefly, but she managed a smile. Of course he couldn't do it again, it would be crazy to think he would. He needed sleep too, and it wasn't up to him to babysit her.
"Daryl." she reached out to touch a hand to his arm, but he recoiled from her. "You ok?"
"Fuckin' peachy." he growled, before spinning and stalking away from her into the darkness.
Tahlia stared after him in confusion. His attitude towards her had done a 180 since the night before.
Her memory of what had happened during the night was a little addled from 4 nights of no sleep, but she clearly remembered all the bits around cuddling up to him half naked – shit, was that it? Was he pissed that she put him in that position? Had she overstepped? But it was Daryl. They were close, they knew each other nearly inside out, they were on that level, weren't they?
She racked her brain to think of what else happened, if she'd done or said anything unforgivable. Only snippets came back to her – more nightmares, him holding her, hushing her. A surge of affection rose inside her as she replayed his tenderness, and she found herself yearning for more. With a quick shake of her head, she decided that she'd asked too much of him last night, been too emotionally intense, and he must be in need of some space.
Heaving a sigh, she figured she owed him that, at least.
That evening, feeling braver about facing the night, Tahlia tucked herself in bed, looking forlornly at the empty space on the floor where Daryl's makeshift bed had been. The memory of lying against his broad, strong chest made her shiver, and she let her mind wander. After having him hold her all night, her desire for him had gone through the roof. She knew it was probably counter-intuitive to be thinking about sex after the recent reminder of her traumatic ordeal, but reclaiming her body had been one of the big things that helped her move forward. Seeking pleasure helped her to build positive layers over top of something awful, to reinforce the fact that her body was still hers.
Fuck the space between that and this. She suddenly thought.
She didn't need any. She knew what she wanted.
The only problem now was that Daryl seemed to be in need of some space to get his head around everything that had happened, needed some room to deal with all of this in his own way, and he had allowed her that courtesy, so she needed to give him the same.
Anyway, it was important to pick her timing, get it right so she didn't make too much of a mess of things.
She was a patient person. She could wait.
In the meantime, she did her best to clear her mind and breathe deeply until she fell into a restless sleep.
Nightmares came for her again.
Black snakes with murder in their fiery eyes rose from the dirt and encircled her, squeezing tight, restraining her. Their ferocious gaping maws inched closer, their tails shoveled soil onto her face, choking her, burying her.
A ghostly being of shadow and sin raised a shining gun, the engraved steel glinting malevolently in the moonlight as it pushed forward, forward into her gut, right through her, the trigger slowly depressing...
Then a bear with cobalt eyes emerged from the woods, strong and fierce. It ripped the snakes from her, tossing them aside as they hissed in fury. It lifted her high, high above the shadow man, and crushed the gun into dust with its broad paw. Tucking her safely against its chest it stroked the dirt from her face, allowing her to breathe again, and all the while, in a voice gravelly and low and familiar, it whispered, babygirl, babygirl, I'm here, you're safe, babygirl.
And calming, she sighed against its warm chest and knew that nothing could harm her here.
Unbeknownst to Tahlia, Daryl sat outside her cell all night.
Due to the fact it was at the end of the upper level with empty rooms next door, no one passed by that way, and no one could spot him sitting in the dark corner at the top of the stairs. After seeing what her nightmares did to her, he couldn't let her go through that terror alone, wouldn't let her, despite the shame and guilt he still felt. Sure, he had pushed her away today, but the night was a whole different beast entirely. And at least he now knew that when she was dreaming, she was in so deep, that, if he were careful, he wouldn't even wake her.
At the first sign of her gasping cry, he slunk in past the privacy curtain hanging in the doorway, her candle burning as usual. She was tangled in the blanket again, writhing in desperation on her bed. Gently as possible, he slid his arms underneath her and cradled her on his lap, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear until she stilled. Laying her back down on her bed, he tucked her in and ran a thumb lightly over her cheek before slipping back out again, back to his position by the wall outside.
Only one more time that night did he have to comfort her, and for that he was both grateful and disappointed.
Just before dawn he crept back to his own cell to catch a couple of hours of sleep.