Early to Mid March

Snow fell gently down from the sky, giving everything an angelic sort of touch. Jasmine paused at the end of the hall, peering out at the outside world. Since Daryl's little fevered-frenzy, she had refused to leave the cabin. Not only was it preferable that she stayed inside because of the baby, but Jasmine had decided to take it upon herself to keep his wound clean so that the infection and the fever would go away. So far, his body was exhausted from trying to fight off the toxins in his system. The wound was no longer inflamed, looking quite different from how it had a month or so ago. Jasmine still couldn't quite get the image out of her head; the skin had been peeling and blistered, the gash oozing and weeping.

Carol had insisted that she stay back, for it was rather disturbing to see, but she had worked up the nerve and assisted her and Maggie in cleaning and sewing up his injury with care. The archer had remained unconscious for weeks, crying out in the night occasionally for the mercy of his father. Jasmine had never really known why he would make such racket, awakening within a frenzy of babbling and grovelling, but she figured it was something rather scarring, given the night terrors it gave him. He would whimper and yelp, rambling on about how "I don't know where your beer has gone", or "I had only been trying to help momma". Even, "I had to walk my friend home, she was sick". It intrigued the young femme, but she knew it was personal. Nonetheless, it nagged at the back of her mind.

Reflecting on the situation, she felt her stomach suddenly harden. Would he ever really come-to? The juniper bushes had all been gone, and there was no sign of spring. Medication was scarce, but since the journey to the remnants of Hatchback Grove, they had thankfully found something suitable for his condition. It seemed to be helping, more or less...

Jasmine looked upon her reflection. Her ivory skin was smooth and flawless, her hair now having grown a few inches longer, just about to her shoulders. She now could pin it back with a clip Maggie had lent her. She had taken a liking to this length; her hair was finally beginning to return to normal. The laundry basket she held against her hip was beginning to press into her stomach, and thus she shifted. She had just taken a moment to rest while putting away clothes when she had stopped to admire the weather outside.

She was beginning to show indefinitely, her belly beginning to swell. She was now less nauseous and no longer had the urge to vomit, which was a relief to her. She had dropped a few pounds, which had concerned Carol. The older woman had been glad to see that she had perked up eventually, and now frequently spoke to her about the child's gender, a possible name... Jasmine admired the name Elizabeth for a girl, given that Daryl may appreciate it. Perhaps she would even be blonde... although she doubted. If it were a boy, perhaps she would name is Blake, after her brother. The only fear that Jasmine had at the moment was whether the child would look like Matthias or not. A shiver ran through her.

There was a sudden shuffling sound, startling Jasmine out of her thoughts. Her brows rose and she quickly turned to look over her shoulder. Her heart leaped up into her throat and she dropped the basket. Daryl was slumped in the doorway, eerily looking upon her with glassy eyes. He appeared to be struggling to breathe, his sides rising and falling in a labored fashion. "Fuck Jas, m' head hurts..." he mumbled. Completely bewildered, she strode across the hall, thankfully catching him as he took another step forward only to falter and weaken, nearly crumbling to the floor.

"Woah there, Daryl, honey!" she exclaimed. "You need to get back to bed..."

"I was jus' gettin' some water-"

"I can bring you some water, silly," she chuckled, shaking her head as she cautiously helped him pivot. The two hobbled back to his bed, where he sat down. Daryl, of course, began to make grumpy comments about how he was "alright", and so on. As he usually would. The dark haired femme helped him slowly ease back upon the mattress, observing how he cringed and hissed in agony. Settling next to him, she looked him over with an expression of grave worry upon her face. His slate-blue gaze followed her, curious and calculating. Suddenly his breath hitched as she felt his forehead and cheeks, his entire body stiffening. He shied away, which caused Jasmine a bit of confusion. Was he frightened of her? Brushing it off, she rose to her feet and stepped to the nightstand.

"How long have you been awake?" Jasmine asked the archer. She pushed up her sleeves and reached into the bowl laying beside him, taking hold of the cloth and ringing it out with both hands. She then folded it two ways and began to dab at his face. The fever thankfully was beginning to let up, and since Fallon had given the group information about where possible medication could be found, his wound was no longer infected.

Oh, that was right. It had gotten too cold in the basement for Fallon a while ago, and so the group had finally decided to move her upstairs into Jasmine's old bedroom, since the mother-to-be had moved in with her partner. The thought caused a bit of stress to well in the back of her mind, like gather rainwater with nowhere to go... ever since Rick's near-death incident and the sudden pregnancy all wrapped up into one, Rick hadn't been as affection he had once been. It worried her.

"A lil' while ago," Daryl replied, mumbling softly. His eyes shut and his brows furrowed as he allowed her to clean the sweat from his face. If only he could shake the last bit of the fire in his veins... she knew he could, but for some reason it seemed to be clinging on like mold. Jasmine smiled softly and hummed. "You should try and rest as much as possible. That's the only way you'll get better..." Dampening the cloth once again, the silence ensued, the only sound that interrupted it being the sound of her shuffling around. At this point, his eyes had shut. Daryl had fallen quiet, and thus the young woman assumed that he had dozed off. Pulling away, she admired him for a moment, before she returned the cloth back to the bowl and turned to leave.

A hand shot out and grabbed hold of her wrist. Jasmine stopped and craned her neck to peer over at Daryl. He lay upon his side, looking up at her with innocence in his eyes. "Where you goin'?" he asked. Oh, he sounded so exhausted.

"Daryl, honey..."

"Jas.."

"I'm going to get you a glass of water... like you wanted." The archer remained still before finally he lowered his head before rolling back over and releasing her. Shaking her head, she proceeded to leave the room and head downstairs. It didn't take her long to reach up for a glass on her tiptoes and fill it with cold water. She then returned upstairs, having to stop midway to catch her breath. Pregnancy wasn't all that it had cracked up to be. She returned to Daryl's room and shut the door behind her; Jasmine then perched herself at Daryl's side, crystalline cup in her delicate hand. Gently, she shook him, only for him to simply stir slightly in response.

Giving up on her conquest, she set the glass down next to the bowl of cold water, she slipped down onto the floor next to the bed, gazing around the room. It smelled old, like a cabin that had sat for years in the woods; her gaze turned to the shelf beneath the top drawer. A single book was settled within its confines. Extending her hand, she allowed her fingers to trail over its tattered spine. She admired the rustic, ancient appearance as she grasped the novel, examining the cover with curiosity. Her green eyes washed over the worn leather, skimming over the front page.

'Wildflowers Of The Southeastern United States'.

It was odd that Daryl had such an item in his room, let alone about wildflowers... but she supposed that it was something she could see him checking once in a while. For herbal and edible purposes. With dainty fingers, she allowed the pages to part, finding pressed flowers paired in with their definitions and illustrations. It was oddly touching. Daryl was such a brutish man, yet he kept a sort of... scrapbook. As she flipped through, she began to find the oddest things. A worn out sheet of folded paper with dark ink written in what appeared to be song lyrics. Carefully, she opened it and read it, studying the words for a few moments before folding it closed again and returning it to its rightful place. A few pages away from the middle of the book, the pages suddenly fell open to reveal a series of pictures.

They were Polaroid snapshots. A few of Maggie and Glenn, a couple of Judith when she was simply a babe. The make-shift crib, the prison cells, a view from the lookout tower off toward the open field. The grass was dotted with walkers, the fence high and proud. She continued to shuffle through them, smiling softly as she did so. Finally she came to one in particular that caused her to stop and inspect. A young girl with hair the color of golden milkweed fluff; her eyes were large and hopeful, a smile pinching her rosy cerise cheeks. She was taking a picture with her sister, then Carol, Rick... one for each member of the group. Others that Jasmine didn't recognize... Two little girls and their father, an older gentleman with a snowy beard and a kind smile, Sasha next to a rather handsome black man.

Jasmine felt her chest swell with joy as she found an entire group photo just a few more pages in. It was enough to make her eyes to well up with tears, knowing that some of these people were never going to see the lodge and the life they had now...

Daryl was in this one, standing next to Rick and Carol. He looked so young! Gosh, it was strange what life could do to one man in two to three years. His hair was shorter, his skin having a natural glow to it; as she looked upon the photograph, Jasmine couldn't help but glance over in his direction, taking him in as he dozed softly. Yes, it was definitely him... when studying the photo, it seemed as though he simply had grown his hair out. Nothing had exactly changed. Reaching up and over, she brushed his bangs from his forehead and ran her thumb along it's clammy surface. A great wave of affection washed over Jasmine, and thus she reached over and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm; unhealthily so, which caused her gut to roll. She was beginning to really worry about Daryl... Jasmine wondered sometimes if he was even going to make it.

She just prayed to God that he would pull through, and that he wasn't going to turn.

As she leafed through toward the end of the book, she found a set of three final photos. Two of which were with the snowy blonde; the first was of Daryl settled upon the prison's iron stairs, talking to a tall, lean gentleman in a sweaty wife-beater and cargo pants. Shock overrode her delight for a moment as she gazed upon his missing right hand, completely replaced with some odd sort of shank. Shuffling forward to bypass the rather disturbing sight, she moved on to the second photo in the bunch. The archer was nestled in beside the young blonde as she was smiling up at the camera (she was beaming, whereas Daryl was a bit unsure of himself, which she found endearing). The final photo was a bit blurry, but it was easy to make out that the girl had suddenly surprised him with a peck on the cheek. Daryl, disgusted, had attempted to rip away in time before she had a chance to take the picture... but she had successfully captured the moment!

Good on you, girl! thought the mother-to-be. Leaning against the bed, Jasmine knew exactly who this was without any thought. She was so elegant and sweet; she had that country girl look. This must have been Beth. Leaning her chin against the mattress, she tilted her body and stretched her arms out, cherishing the photo for as much time as she could.

"Thank you for takin' care of him..." a soft soprano tone bounced from her left ear to her right and then back, rolling around within her mind just as she opened her heavy lids. Her pale emerald gaze fluttered open from behind dark lashes, falling upon Daryl's slate set. A bit befuddled, the dark haired matron slowly brought her head up. Realizing that she had fallen asleep, she blinked a few times more, attempting to remove the last bits of her slumber from her eyes. The archer was awake and had managed to sit up in bed without any help. She hoped that he hadn't been in pain... but then again, if he had been, his complaints would have woken her up. Jasmine sighed softly and stretched, glancing at the night table, then back to the archer.

He was settled with three pillows propping him up, his shirt unbuttoned and the glass of water in one hand. In the other, he held the photograph she had been looking at. Her heart lurched. "I.. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal things, I was just-"

Daryl's eyes slowly moved to her, his head turning on it's joint. One look had shut her up... although he didn't seem upset. He simply returned his attention to the photo, studying Beth's face. Slowly, she rose to her feet, a hand upon her swollen belly. "I'm going to open the window, okay? It'll let some air in. If you get cold, let me know." Jasmine was desperately trying to at least get a few words out of him, considering that usually meant she was forgiven. There was a moment of silence before she unlatched the window and yanked it down, a chilly winter breeze wafting in. She took a deep breath and then listened to the silence.

"Couldn't let him hurt you..." Daryl began. "... I couldn't jus' watch you die. Not like her- not when I could've done somethin'." Jasmine's hands tightened around the curtain, bunching it up in one hand. Slowly, she turned to the archer. "I'd've rather it be me than you. Tha's why I stopped him-" Attempting to haul himself to his feet, he let out a grunt of pain and a few cusses upon Blake's name. Jasmine crossed the room and stopped him, settling down next to him as he struggled to sit up. "I jus' kinda moved n' didn't really pay any mind. I get it now..."

"Careful," she cautioned.

"I'm fine..." he retaliated, brushing her off. Jasmine nonetheless shuffled around so that she could check his bandages. Grasping the hem of his shirt, she paused, waiting for him to tell her to go away and stop bothering him.. but instead, he simply remained stagnant. Silence ensued, and thus she took it as him simply accepting that she needed to change the bandages. Carefully, she helped him remove his shirt, her belly brushing his bare back as she did so. Jasmine understood that he had scars upon his back: it wasn't as if she hadn't noticed them whenever she'd fix his wound. "Merle said you wouldn't survive..." Daryl continued, mumbling. Her heart clenched. "Said you would end up like Beth."

Yet again, there was another moment of tense silence. Jasmine hummed. "Is that so?" she inquired. She began to remove the medical tape, and then the bandage. The wound was no longer angry and inflamed. It appeared to be clearing up and healing very well, actually. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she had to ask. "Who's Merle?" Daryl peered over his shoulder at Jasmine and hummed an inquiry. He then chuckled. "Jus' my asshole of a brother."

His answer concerned her as she opened the first-aid kit she had retrieved from beneath the bed. She took out a swab of cotton and dampened it in solution before running it over the wound. It wouldn't be long before the lash would be completely scabbed over, and she wouldn't have to clean it. Jasmine didn't take long to finish. She returned the supplies to it's box and then shut it quietly. Her eyes drifted back up to the male's spine. Long nasty scars ran across his shoulders, two single worn tattoos engraved upon his upper shoulder and his shoulder blade, the color of worn copper. Reaching out, she gently trailed her fingers over the closest scar to the dark, demonic creatures punching into his flesh. Her touch had just skimmed his skin when the archer shied away. Withdrawing, she cleared her throat and allowed him to pull his shirt back on without any help.

"Jas...?" he murmured. Something prickled along her spine. She turned. Daryl rose to his feet, his legs nearly failing him. He wobbled and then grasped her shoulders, looking down with little confidence in his feet.

"What is it, Daryl?" she asked. Finally, his face turned upward, his eyes meeting her's. She had forgotten how tall much taller he was than her. Perhaps she was shrinking? The idea was amusing, for that would mean as her baby grew, it would become far too big for her to carry.

"Your hair is longer," he stated, taking a lock in his fingers. He swayed gently, as if drunk. His eyes were glassy, the fever clearly still latched onto him like a leech. She offered a sympathetic smile. "Yes, it grew," she replied. "I think I might keep it long until the baby is born." Without an answer, she nearly flinched as his strong mits brushed a few strands of her dark brunette crown from her brow. There was a moment of tension as they looked upon one another, something stirring within him clearly stated behind his eyes. As soon as she became aware of how close he was, he closed the distance. Jasmine felt the spark within her belly flare, but then all at once it became too much for her; before he could kiss her, the young woman took a step back and pushed him away.

"Y-You need to rest..." Jasmine quavered, a nervous laugh escaping her. "I'm... unsure of what exactly has gotten into you, but I don't think you're all there." She didn't take the time to hear his reply, she simply turned and left him there, unbalanced and falling over onto the bed. Swallowing hard, she shook her head as she went down the hall. Jasmine hastily picked up the basket of laundry and escaped the situation, her heart hammering as if she had been electrocuted.