Ever since Jasmine had woke up that morning to find that she was nestled up against Daryl, baby Judith sleeping peacefully upon his broad chest, she couldn't get the image out of her head. It was something she replayed over and over in her mind. It had been something she couldn't drop, not even as she had risked sneaking out to go for a stroll through the woods. The inside of the cabin had become far too stifling for her, the tension having died down thankfully yet somehow remaining rather stuffy for her. She hadn't been outside in months- or at least not outside the cabin's front yard. Her green eyes trailed up along the clutter of naked trees, their leaves long gone since the beginning of autumn. The pregnant young woman's hand rested gently upon her swelling tummy, feeling the child squirm contently inside of her as she breathed in fresh air.
Perhaps the child would take on the wilderness in her... maybe Daryl could teach him or her to hunt and track? That would be delightful; the archer would make an incredible teacher, and not to mention a great role-model. Sure, there were other men in the group; Abraham would be good to teach them weaponry, Rick would probably teach them the basic necessities when it came to daily routine. Glenn perhaps could teach them to drive and wrestle with them... but Daryl Dixon would teach them how to survive. With the archer always doting on her and asking her how she was doing, checking up on her, she was beginning to wonder if the man was going to perhaps be the father figure that the child needed. Clearly their biological father wouldn't be around whatsoever (she would make sure of it).
The morning was crisp and chilly, and thus Jasmine bundled into her scarf and Daryl's heavy jacket. The archer had been sticking around quite a lot lately, just in case she was in need of anything. Granted it was also because of Ronnie's presence, but he was beginning to loosen up. It was touching for the young mother-to-be. A smile twitched at her lips as she thought of the rugged lone-wolf. For such a gruff man, he was quite something when he wanted to be sweet. Jasmine traipsed through the brush, listening carefully, the nostalgic feeling of her ronin in her left hand as she traveled as quietly as she could. She was definitely out of touch with herself lately, given that she had thickened in the last month or so. Four months pregnant: it had felt like an eternity, especially in the middle of an apocalypse. The hormones had made her extra worrisome and nervous, feeling as though her own caution was not enough to protect this child.
If Daryl catches me out here, I'm toast... she thought, chuckling softly. Still, Jasmine continued on, breaking her own expectations of staying near the cabin. She trailed along through the underbrush, her shamrock gaze taking in every beautiful sight there was. She passed through steep declines, crumbling slopes and through dead leaves that littered the paths. Jasmine was practically addicted to the smell of the fresh air, every sense she had trained upon her surroundings. Her head felt clear for once, and as she approached the babbling stream, she was very thankful for the fortunate events that had been granted to her. She had found that being without Rick hadn't been a loss, but a whole new page in her own story that she could write for herself.
By time she realized that she had lost herself in the moment, it was the middle of the day. Panic shot through Jasmine as she looked up at the crisp blue sky. The young matron whipped around and raced down the path, back the way she had come. Her breath screamed in her lungs, stinging as if she were inhaling fiber glass. Eventually she couldn't run any further, and slowed her pace. Jasmine had to stop and breathe for a moment, trying to catch her breath as she bent over and rested her hands upon her knees. Christ, she hadn't run in what felt like forever. This pregnancy was a curse! Eventually she continued along the path, her shamrock eyes taking in the surroundings she had passed by previously, never failing to feel such a refreshing sense of nostalgia. The sound of her boots upon the snow-scattered trail, the scuffling of the leaves beneath; the birds flitting across the bare canopy... Jasmine really needed to go out more often.
Once Jasmine had made it back (after getting turned around a few times), it was late afternoon. She had ultimately resorted to using the game trail that Daryl had made after using the same route for the last year or so. Ascending the hill, the young woman came to the front door and paused for a minute. Maybe they weren't back yet? Perhaps if they were, they had just assumed Jasmine had been resting or something... Wait, why was she so nervous? Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside of the building with a push of the heavy front egress. The foyer before her held an array of scattered folks. Carol stood in front of the fire, warming her hands; Sasha settled on the couch with her elbows on her knees and her hands pressed together as if in prayer, her mouth settled upon her index fingers as she stared off at the crackling fire. Closer to the door stood Abraham and Rick, the third standing with his back to her. Each person in the room turned their heads and looked upon her with relief, which allowed Jasmine at least some assurance...
"Where th' hell have you been?!" Daryl's head unfortunately had joined the other's almost simultaneously, snapping around at break-neck speed. The archer was positively aflame, the anger coming off him in waves, making a b-line for her. Jasmine's stomach dropped and her faint smile faded. All that was left was a dark glare as he stalked up to her. "You got any clue how fuckin' dangerous it is for ya out there?!" he growled. The young lady's brows furrowed deeper, but she continued to lean back against the closet's sliding doors and pull off her combat boots.
Unlacing one at a time, the silence was harrowing. "You kind of scared us Jasmine... we didn't know where you were," reasoned Carol, interjected into the reticence. "For all we could have known, you could have been taken or worse-"
"Yeah, but you all know that I can handle myself just fine on my own..." the brunette replied, trailing off as she stood up. "I'm pregnant, not handicapped..." Brushing past the archer, unwilling to look him in the eyes. If she did, she would surely lose her temper. He was acting so high-and-mighty, like he knew what was best for her. Stepping up over the lip that lead into the kitchen, she quickly strode across to the little corridor that lead back to the supply room. She could already hear him following after her and the frustrated sighs from inside the foyer as the handful of group members that had been fretting over her.
Just as she was about to make it to the bathroom, she felt a large calloused mit clasp around her slender wrist. Her breath hitched in her throat, immediately knowing who it was, yet nonetheless startled. Jasmine turned to him, her chest tightening in frustration. "You even listenin' to what we're sayin'?!" he growled, his voice rasping like it would a snarl in an angry dog's throat. The young woman managed to pull herself free, only for the archer to snatch her by the upper arm and yank her back from the inside of the bathroom. A grunt escaped her as she twisted around and once again yanked herself away, giving him a push.
"Will you quit it?!" Jasmine quipped, glowering up at him just as a cornered snake would. She could feel her temper beginning to boil over unusually fast: perhaps it was the hormones. Estrogen or not, she didn't appreciate being tossed around like a doll. "You don't have to man-handle me to get my attention, Daryl! Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm delicate. I can handle keeping myself alive-"
"You ain't gonna stay alive if ya keep goin' out alone 'n' doin' such stupid fuckin' things!" countered the archer, stepping up closer to her. His slate-grey gaze chewed into her, searing her flesh and bleaching her bone to dust. Jasmine, remaining silent, couldn't get over how the air surrounding her now smelled heavily of pine, damp clothes, leather, and the faintest hint of tobacco. The scent was so familiar yet so overwhelming each time he was near. Dixon continued to scold her, only egging her on and encouraging her blood to boil and bubble.
"And you expect me to just stay inside all the time, like a good little house-wife? This lodge is suffocating me, don't you understand?" she insisted, trying to explain. Maybe if he would just hear her out- "I'll only keep sneaking out if you and the others don't give me at least a little bit of leeway."
"I ain't lettin' you put yourself in danger. Its safest for ya here, and that's-"
A spark of red-hot adrenaline shot through her. A dry bark of laughter escaped her. "It isn't as if you're the baby's father, so why should you have a say in what's good for them?!" she remarked. As soon as the words left her mouth, a soft gleam of hurt flashed behind Daryl's slate gaze. The two remained rigid and frozen, gawking at one another for a moment. Jasmine felt her legs beginning to tremble. It was true, so why did she feel so devastated that she had finally come out and said it? Her throat locked up and her lips parted to speak, only for the archer to interrupt her.
"I'll jus' take you outside from now on, alright Jas?" he murmured, his stern tone having melted away, disclosing that her words had scored into him deeply. Swallowing nervously, the young woman remained still. Uncertain of what to exactly reply to him with, given that Jasmine was also surprised by his sudden submission.
"Thank you," she finally managed, her voice coming out in a soft croak. The archer turned away, his footsteps slowly becoming more and more distant. Turning, she leaned in the doorway and at first stared off toward the tiled wall. Why had those words felt so wrong when they had left her mouth? Why had he reacted like that? Why had he just left the argument there? The brunette knew the archer like the back of her hand, and she most definitely knew that Daryl Dixon didn't back down from a challenge. He was far too stubborn. Jasmine's eyes then drifted down to the linoleum floor, her tongue passing over her dry lips. Why?
Recalling these events, Jasmine's hand stilled, the spoon within her grasp coming to a stop halfway to her lips. The soup in the bowl before her was steaming pleasantly, the inviting aroma of broth and barley rising from the hot liquid, tickling Jasmine's nose. Daryl had settled down next to her after returning from a long evening outside the cabin, smelling of the bitter cold woods and the brisk wind. He always had that wilderness about him, never ceasing to refresh Jasmine's senses. The archer was rough around the edges, but as she looked over at him with uncertainty, she couldn't help the warmth resonate within her belly. The brunette watched as the rugged man settled back in the wing-back beside her, eating quietly. "How were the snares?" asked Rick softly, shooting him a glance.
As the archer turned his head to look over in the leader's direction, Jasmine removed her attention from him, sheepishly peering over at the crackling flames in the fireplace. Jordan and Judith darted around, the little tod clumsy on her feet as she fumbled after the older girl. Reese was rested by Abraham's feet in a sleepy bundle of dark feathers. The way Jordan played with the small child was endearing, given that she had most likely never had much of anyone to play with. Perhaps that was why her most valued companion was a chicken? "Caught a few more rabbits. Looks like they're startin' to come out again," he pointed out, taking a spoonful of his soup. Jasmine nestled back into her chair, her warm knit sweater keeping her at a temperature to surely be content with. With a stir of her silverware, she pondered quietly, listening to Daryl's soothing voice resonating from beside her.
"Hm!" articulated Rick, clearly with his mouth full. There was a beat and then he spoke again, having swallowed his food. "That's good. Means it's a sign of spring, right?" Someone's spoon let out a smart clnk as it randomly collided with one of the pottery bowls. "Warmer weather coming too," added the leader. Daryl hummed in agreement, continuing to eat. It was the oddest thing. She could just as easily pick his voice out a crowd, no problem. It was a comforting sound to her, something she had become so attached to, much like a child with it's favorite blanket. It startled her, in all honesty, how much she adored it. Nervously, she adjusted herself where she sat and began to eat a bit quicker, trying to finish her meal.
"Hey Jas," Daryl suddenly murmured. Jasmine nearly jolted out of her skin, her heart leaping up into her nose as she turned to see him looking over at her. Right, she was sitting there with her strange mix-and-match family, eating dinner in the lodge. Her dark lashes fluttered over her pale gaze, waiting for him to continue. "Wanna head out f'r a joyride? Abraham found us a new truck t' make runs easier."
Wait, did he say truck? A vehicle? This sparked Jasmine's interest. The young woman perked up, her brows raising. "Yeah- yeah, sure," she replied, her voice soft. She was a bit bewildered by his sudden ambition to go out with her. With a nod of his heavy head, he told her to eat the rest of her food before they left. Jasmine gobbled it down as quickly as she really could, only to be beaten by the archer as his spoon hit the bottom of his previously full bowl. Daryl was up on his feet and heading for the kitchen. Jasmine shot him a side-glance and then finished her own bowl with one last spoonful, before leaping up and scuttling after him. The two set their dishes in the wash-basin and they quickly moved for the front door.
"Where are you two goin'?" asked Abraham from across the foyer.
Daryl was already waiting for Jasmine, slipping on his leather coat and then ducking his head under the strap of his crossbow. "Out," the archer responded, his gruff voice cutting into hush over the room and the crackling of the fire. Rick met the rugged man's gaze and they exchanged a nod. Jasmine finished lacing up her boots and slipped on her winter coat and scarf, and then followed after Daryl Dixon. The man turned the handle and pushed open the front egress, a chilly breeze wafting in, damp with precipitation. The snow was beginning to ebb away, retreating from it's place upon the ground. Jasmine closed the door behind herself and then breathed in the aroma of coniferous trees and leaf-litter.
The creak and then click of the egress closing behind her resonated out into the hush of the blue-lit evening, the brunette allowing the screen door to follow suit with it's usual hiss. What happened next nearly gave Jasmine whiplash. The archer's hand was suddenly clasped around her wrist and she was being lead off toward the side of the house. The brunette wasn't sure whether it was impatience or eagerness. Stumbling, her free hand cast to her abdomen, her feet dragging behind her as she failed to keep up with him. That would certainly have to be something she worked on, given that she had become a little rusty when it came to moving quickly. She felt rather clumsy and cumbersome sometimes, feeling more like a duck than a pregnant woman. Still, she remained silent, allowing him to guide her to where he liked.
The two came around the back of the cabin and Daryl soon released her from his steely grip, as if finally assured that she would not try and flee. Burying herself further into her coat, she shivered, her breath coming in silvery puffs. The grass was mucky and wet, and squished underfoot. There was so much water now under the earth that it was erupting from the crust. At the bottom of the hill sat a massive pile of broken branches, draped over the object in question in order to hide it from any sort of intruders. It was tucked off where the trees thickened. Daryl reached up and began tugging down branches, Jasmine assisting by taking the broken tree limbs and setting them in a neat pile off to the side. The jingle of keys caught her attention, and she couldn't help but smile. The truck was rusted, appropriately so for a vehicle that had been outside in the weather for so long.
It felt so surreal, looking at the truck, examining it's handle and how it gleamed so smartly. The door swung open and Daryl was already hopping in, Jasmine skirting around the front to the passenger seat. The handle was chilly against her bare hand, the heat coming from her skin creating a sort of foggy outline around. Slipping up into the seat, she closed the door behind her, the smell of musty pine and damp rain filling the cabin. The truck roared to life, rumbling a bit halfheartedly, yet nonetheless Jasmine was content with the sound. In a way, it made her almost forget about how shitty the world had become. Humming in satisfaction, she leaned back in the leather seat, earning a glance from the archer and a faint grin. The brunette pulled her seat-belt on, knowing fully well that Daryl would scold her if she didn't. She was in fragile condition, after all. Jasmine shifted in her seat as they pulled out, the automobile rocking as they did so, moving along the wooded back-trail with the least amount of finesse as it could.
Soon the path smoothed out, and they began to find their way toward the highway. It was nice, the dim silver stretch peering through the canopy. The sun would most likely set soon. The two remained silent, listening to the rhythmic hum of the motor and the sound of the gravelly path beneath the truck. Daryl turned the steering wheel and changed gears as if it were second-nature, driving with great amounts of skill. The vehicle turned the bend and approached to where the hidden driveway broke off onto the empty tarmac, snow crunching beneath the tires. Jasmine leaned her elbow upon the ledge beside the window, eyes glued to the sign that read "Staff Entrance Only." They seemed to be perhaps a few meters away from the entrance, when suddenly Daryl's arm jerked, the clutch changing gears, the wheels kicking up powder and pebbles behind them as they lurched forward. Jasmine was pressed back into her seat, her hand shooting out and gripping the "holy-shit-bar" above her head. The truck jolted once again as the gear was shifted once more, the vehicle swerving out into the open and eating up the blacktop before them.
At first Jasmine could hardly breathe, a squeak of alarm erupting from her throat. She hadn't driven this fast since they had escaped Hatchback Grove, nor had she ever driven with archer himself, given that her attention during the last little escapade within any sort of automobile had been diverted; Jasmine had been too busy trying to keep the archer's blood inside of his body. Her heart hammered within her chest and she stared out the windshield. "Daryl- please- s-slow down!" she gulped, shooting him a side-glance. The archer was sneering as he once again moved the clutch and bolted down the road even faster than before.
"Hey, open th' glove-box, will you Jas?" inquired Daryl, almost too innocently for his own good. Jasmine, completely glued to where she sat, looked over at him as if he were insane. Eventually she swallowed back hard and reached for said object, opening the latch with a click. There were various objects: napkins, sanitizer, a pack of cigarettes, a driver's manual... and a few CD cases. Curious, her attention now averted, she retrieved the CD and shut the glove-box, leaning back comfortably now. The two exchanged a glance, Daryl's gaze soon returning to the road. His one hand rested upon the wheel, the left propped up on the windowsill by the elbow, fingers gently caressing his lips as if to hide them. "Motorhead?" mumbled Jasmine, her brows arching high. Without another word, she opened the case and then shut it was a sharp clack, the disk being inserted in the CD player, the contraption eagerly eating it up.
Daryl's heavy mit removed itself from the stick-shift and turned one of the knobs, turning the volume up. Jasmine nestled herself back in the leather seat, listening to the music with careful ears. "You actually like this kind of stuff?" she asked after a few moments, although she soon realized that it was a dumb question. He was a biker, what other genre could he have ever listened to? The two exchanged another look, Jasmine catching the archer just as he shrugged his broad shoulders. He was continuing his silence it seemed, which shut her up. Clearing her throat, she leaned back on the glass of the window, the vibrations from the vehicle filling her skull.
The brunette flower had dozed off, only awakened as suddenly Daryl's hand came and rested upon her shoulder. Jasmine jolted and grabbed for his hand, only to stare directly at the archer. They both held an expression of awkward realization, and then moved away from one another. "You fell asleep," he drawled, pointing out the obvious. Nodding as she rubbed her eye, Jasmine removed her seat-belt and then made her way out of the truck. Hopping down, she came to the blatant realization that she was unarmed. Had Daryl even noticed? Maybe he would lend her his knife if it came to something. Turning, Jasmine zipped up her coat and walked around the truck bed. Quickly falling into step with the archer, the two now stood before a gas station, peering over at it with eager eyes. Oh! He had brought her along on a run- this was it! She couldn't help but smile. "C'mon," urged Daryl. The two fell into step with one another and strolled up to the building.
"Shouldn't I have a weapon?" she asked.
"You don't need one. I'll look out f'r ya," he explained, his eyes focused on the padlock upon the doors. Jasmine was about to open her mouth and protest when suddenly there was a loud thumping sound. Three walkers were now pressing their faces up against the glass, the clear complexion already having been smeared before this, most likely having been drawn by other scavengers. Obviously they hadn't taken their time to risk picking the lock only to be attacked by three hungry shambling corpses- unlike Mister Daryl Dixon, who suddenly brought the butt of his crossbow down upon the padlock. The large chains suddenly became slack and sank to the ground.
"I think I could handle myself, Daryl," she dissented, frowning. Daryl shot her a glance, warning her not to test his patience. Suddenly the doors opened. Jasmine, determined to prove him wrong, snaked her tricky hands to his belt and snatched the old buck knife, just as soon as he raised his own weapon. The handle was a rather glamorous and girlish silver, fitting her hand perfectly. Why did he have such a delicate handle on this blade? The first walker to approach, she stretched up and took by the throat, embedding the titanium into it's eye-socket. Maggots dropped from the roamer's scalp and scattered across the shoulder of her large jean-jacket, which she brushed off quickly. Blackened blood grew sticky upon her fingers, coating the blade with a generous layer of disgusting muck. The body fell into her, which she easily pushed off and away from herself, a dull thud resonating from the pavement.
An arrow was let loose and zipped over her head as she bolted inside, a harsh 'hey!' escaping her partner as she left him outside. The sound of his footsteps following quickly behind him alerted her to the fact that he was hot on her heels. She felt nonetheless heavy as she moved, although moved forward with as much confidence as possible. Another walker reached toward her, her first reaction being to stop and raise her foot to strike the creature back. Unfortunately, she was too slow, her ankle snatched by the hungry corpse; she had forgotten that they weren't completely dead, their reflexes somehow still sharp enough to catch her by surprise. Maybe she was the undead one? The creature yanked her forward, only for a strong arm to wrap around her waist. Daryl nearly lifted her up off her feet and swiftly tilted both of them to face to right in order to protect her, his arm stretching out and firing a bolt straight through the bridge of the walker's nose. Jasmine blinked vigorously, skirting around behind him and slipping from his grip, alarmed by the feeling of his solid frame against her back.
He turned on her then, clearly pissed off that she ran ahead. Jasmine let out a heavy sigh and brushed her bangs back casually. "What'd I fuckin' tell you?" he asked. Stepping around the lone-wolf, acting as if he were merely talking to air. She wasn't interesting in arguing... not when they had a job to do. She could feel his eyes burning into her, but ignored the archer nonetheless. Her head remained high, wiping sticky blood from her complexion as she had caught some of the walker's tainted sludge upon impact. Jasmine quickly hopped over the counter with a grunt of effort and knelt, beginning to search for any concealed weapons or keys to a possible jackpot room. In the mean time, Daryl was most likely stewing in his own frustration as he scowered the wracks and shelves.
"Anything interesting?" she called finally, having wiped the knife off on her loose-fitting jeans. Oh well, she was sure that Carol wouldn't mind. After all, what was a good pair of pants without a little blood to break them in? She could hear him rustling a few bags, indicating that he was most likely looking at either crackers or chips. Strolling down the isle, she trailed her fingers along the cold steel bars of the displays, looking at the prices as she did so. Money was such a trivial thing now... there was no need for a bank account, no need for a job, no need to be part of the well-oiled clock that had once been society. Rounding the corner, she joined her companion, her tummy suddenly aching for the taste of sour cream and onion chips. "Sweet!" she chirruped, snatching the back from the archer.
Daryl looked upon her with a look of confusion, even as she side-stepped around him and twirled happily, breaking the back open with a crackling noise. Reaching her hand in, she raised a few of the precious potato chips to her lips, opened her jaw as wide as it could, and shoved them into her eager mouth. Saliva burst between her lips, the taste heavenly upon her tongue which had been deprived for so long. From behind her, Mister Daryl Dixon let out a snort. "Keep eatin' like that 'n' you'll stay fat after the kid is born!" he heckled, following along behind her.
"You ffucthin' ash-hull!" she protested from behind a mouthful of crisps. "That'sth not ffunnhee!" Jasmine couldn't help but giggle though, his rather teasing remarks something she had missed. Turning on her heels, she got a good look at the archer in all his messy, wild glory. The archer's eyes had gleamed in such a way that she thought he could shoot her down with a simple glance. That sly little smirk of his tugged at her heart strings suddenly, her face feel as if it had been plunged into a hot bucket of blood. Wheeling around, she skipped off. "Least I will keep myself clean, you dirty varment!" Jasmine shot back.
"Hey!" Daryl mused, clearly pursuing her at a quicker pace now. Jasmine sped up, a giddy set of butterflies miraculously forming within her belly and then shooting up into her chest. Her heart fluttered along witht heir wing-beats and she couldn't deny the squeal she let out as suddenly the sound of his boots rubbing the linoleum the wrong way alerted her to his fast approach. "Get back here, rat!"
"I ain't gonna run int' the armsova smelly man!" she drawled, mocking his southern heritage with a ridiculous twang in her speech pattern. It was clear that both of them were stumbling and slipping on the smooth linoleum, but they were laughing like children, unperturbed by any sort of danger that may have been lurking outside the unfastened doors of the gas station. Just as Jasmine came screaming across the floor, bolting for the fire exit to escape Daryl's wrath, there was the sudden shouting of voices. The two immediately fell silent, both glued to where they now stood. Jasmine caught sight of a few heads bobbing through the dimly-lit fire exit and ducked her head down, crouching. She felt incredibly exposed now without Daryl beside her, dread filling her as she grasped for some sort of escape from the sudden approach of strangers.
"Woo-whee!" caterwauled one bandit, exasperated. "I haven't seen nothin' like that since the start. Hope Atlanta clears out soon.. there's gotta be so much shit up there that we could live like fuckin' kings, eh?"
"You got that right. Ain't gonna be easy with jus' the three of us though... why don' we call Tony 'n' 'em down to see what they think?"
"Guys-"
"Tony's startin' to turn into such a prick lately! I don't see why we gotta listen to such a self-righteous-"
"Will you two shut the fuck up?!" A heavy, husky tone shut the two chattering men up. "Th' lock's gone!" Jasmine's heart dropped and she scrambled down onto all fours now, crawling as quickly as she could as she heard footsteps rushing for the front door. Just before they caught sight of her, she had managed to curl her knees to her chest and hug herself, just slim enough to hid at the very end of the shelves. "Th' fuck happened here?! D'ya think someone got in?!"
"Search the place. We don't need anyone sneakin' around here... don't need no Goldilocks 'n' the Three Bears shit!" the husky voice growled, clearly unimpressed with the current situation. Jasmine hadn't even though about the fact that the place could be occupied. It seemed to be like their base camp, or something of that effect... Her eyes followed the figures as they were reflected in the glass, holding her breath. It was clear as she caught a watery glimpse of the two within the foggy pane that they were armed. An AK-47 rested within the inked-up arm of one of the bandits, cradled with precision, yet as if it were his child. Jasmine felt her cardiovascular muscle leap up into her nose as suddenly the man in question turned his head to shoot a glance down the isle, causing her to toss herself onto her feet.
She tripped over her feet, the burning sensation of the heels of her palms being skinned open shocking her nervous system. The sound of footsteps were then apparent, forcing her to move once more, only to twist back around as another member of the trio began his own stroll down the neighboring isle. She was practically drove for the edge of the shelving unit. She was trapped... and as she began to contemplate taking matters into her own hands and attempting to escape, a hand suddenly shot out and she was yanked back into a firm, muscular body, a large hand covering her mouth and muffling her startled cry.
Pulling away, she turned to her captor and with a deep, trembling gulp for air, tears beginning to prick at her eyes as she peered up at the archer. This was their base-camp, and if they found them in there, they would surely have their heads. Daryl seemed just as worried, although held some oddly endearing steeliness to him, giving her a sense of comfort; she was not only happy to be with him at her side, but now more confident. Pressing a finger to his lips, he slowly rose up, peering over the shelf, only to pop back down like a merekat. His index finger remained idle for a moment, hovering within the air between them as they waited for some sort of opening...
"You think there's anyone actually in here?" called the first bandit. The archer suddenly motioned for her to follow, which she eagerly obliged to. The two quickly jogged whilst in a crouched position, being sure to step lightly. As they approached the end of the isle, Daryl peered around the corner. Giving a nod, they readied to take flight, when suddenly they reeled back as a shadow came into view. "I don't see nothin', Gus..." mumbled one of the rather higher tenor tones. This bandit was probably younger than the other two.
Damnit! Jasmine thought. Wait, there was another possible exit, being the fire exit she had found earlier. Her hand suddenly snaked around the archer's large bicep and turned him around, bolting for the other end of the linoleum path that seemed to be forever confined to. Just as the brunette shot forward, Gus's jean-clad ass was in view. With too much momentum in her shoulders rather than in her legs, Jasmine just about lost her footing, only for the archer to snatch her by the collar of her coat and just narrowly pull her back with a sharp heave of his wrist. The young woman skidded back on her own behind, feeling foolish now, her entire face on fire as Daryl had just witnessed her nearly barrel head-first into a stranger's - and possible threat- backside. Slowly the archer backed up toward her, the pregnant girl pulling herself to her weak ankles. Her entire body was trembling now, ready to give out from all the back-and-forth.
As quickly as possible, they shot out of view, wheeling around the final two rows of shelves. It seemed as though they were almost home-free, when suddenly Jasmine dropped the blade she had been holding onto so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The noise suddenly alerted the bandits and the two clearly knew this, immediately diving behind the ball and the final isle of snacks. Jasmine's head collided with the linoleum hard and before she really had time to clutch her ringing skull - Jesus Christ! - her hands were suddenly upon the archer's broad chest, grasping the fabric of his vest and the cotton button-up beneath. Their eyes latched onto one another's almost simultaneously, and they stared at each other, holding their breath as they laid there in such an awkward and almost romantic position. Each hand was rested on either side of her head, his one leg rested between her legs as if readying to make a move on her. He was so close that she could feel his uneven breaths upon her cheeks. Jasmine's throat was suddenly dry as she heard the angry grunts of question of the strangers and the scuffling of their approach.
Daryl immediately broke the contact, crawling off her. The two bolted to their feet just as the three men made for the source of the sound and raced for the fire exit. Her heart beat wildly within her chest as the door was kicked open and the two ran free from the formidable building. The sound of voices hitting the air behind them as they tore across the back alley only added fuel to the fire that had been lit beneath their asses. They weaved through the garbage bins and then around the side, worming their way between the rough brick and the smooth surface of the large green bin. The smell of rotting trash filled Jasmine's nose, suddenly nauseating her, only to thankfully be muffled by the smell of pine and rain. The clamor of the trio's running footsteps leaving them behind slowly grew more distant after they had seemed to be directly upon them.
Clearly not the smartest bunch, that left Daryl and Jasmine gasping for breath with only a hair's-length between the two of them. There was only pounding of her heart, the hiss of the rain, the distant moans of approaching walkers, and their panting in the silence of the evening. After Daryl had taken a few moments to decide that they were in the clear and loosen up, she could suddenly feel his slate depths upon her. Jasmine was yet again left with a moment burned within her memory, and now suddenly felt self-conscious. Her cheeks burned and she averted her eyes, refusing to even shoot him a glance. Snaking out from between the brick wall and the crouched archer, Jasmine pushed by him, knowing fully well that he would follow.
On their way back to the vehicle, the were careful and silent, making sure to watch where they stepped so as not to make too many tracks. If those three assholes could track, they wouldn't want to leave enough evidence for them to use in order to follow them home. They made it to the truck and the doors shut loudly behind both of them, the motor coughing before starting up. They began to drive away quickly, only slowing once Daryl knew that they had put some distance behind them. Silence filled the vehicle, the rumble of the motor being the only interruption. Her gut was in knots, her palms were sweaty, and all she could imagine was if Daryl hadn't caught himself quick enough and what would have happened if their lips had... suddenly it was very hot in the cabin of the truck. Reaching over, she cranked the window down and leaned out the window, watching the rain fall down from the dark sky above.
The hush of the precipitation brought her down from the sudden anxious high and she took a deep breath of frigid air. "I'm sorry about the knife..." she murmured softly, glancing over at Daryl. He seemed a bit caught off-guard by her statement, his steely eyes casting a startled look off in her direction. "We can go back for it tomorrow, right? I'm not letting it stay there..."
"It don't matter now. They'll probably keep it anyway..." he replied, eyes remaining on the road. Something seemed to change in his eyes and she couldn't help but feel guilty now. "Glad ya made use ovit. I ain't gotta reason t' use it since I got my own..." His praise sort of cheered her up, and she no longer felt like a complete idiot for just about face-planting between a bandit's goddamn legs and giving them away. Daryl fell silent once more, leaving them within that awkward void of reticence. A deep sigh escaped Jasmine once again and she peered back out the window. Hopefully he wouldn't miss that knife too much. She was glad that he was at least trying to make her feel better after losing the blade, but for some reason she still felt upset with herself. Her cheek squished against the heel of her palm, only for her to react with a sharp hiss of air as she felt the sweat from her skin seep into the injury she had gotten when she had slipped.
Examining the scarlet smear with a grimace marring her features, a deep frown lacing her lips. With another frustrated exhale of air, she cranked the window shut, the rain now rolling down the glass, the truck rolling west toward the lodge. They would be back soon, hopefully. Her hand fell into her lap and her head rested back against the back of her seat, her eyes shutting tightly. Perhaps she could doze off again? Jasmine remained still for the time being, only managing to drift partially into her own mind. Eventually she gave up and looked out the window, watching the trees go by in the darkness. "Hey Jas, could y' grab me another CD?" Daryl's gruff voice cut through the silence, almost startling her out of her thoughts. The brunette mechanically reached for the cases resting at the foot of the cup-holders between the two, then picked up one out of random that appealed to her. One hand snaked up through her hair, dark tendrils falling out of the way. She would surely have to cut it soon.
"Jas-"
"Hm?" Her head came up, and suddenly the vehicle moved slowly, the next few events taking place in rapid fire. Daryl was suddenly so close again and this time he had closed the distance, his lips pressing to her own so softly. Jasmine felt so many emotions in a crashing wall of water, and she pushed away from before she had time to even think about kissing him back or not. Daryl was clearly upset now, his nose wrinkled. The truck swerved and she twisted her body around in order to keep his eyes away from her face, her hand covering her mouth.
"'m sorry.." the archer muttered from behind his palm, realizing now what he had done. Jasmine shifted uncomfortably, now practically gawking out the window, refusing to turn to even look out the windshield.
This was going to be one long, painful ride back.
Author's Note: I AM SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LOOOOONG! ;0; With school starting up again, it has been a pain in my butt trying to keep on track with the plans for this part of SNSOS. I hope to finally be able to post proper content more often for you guys. I'm glad that you're all enjoying the story so far! Oooooo, and it looks like some drama is beginning to stir up~