Between the Thorns

Chapter 2

**Welcome to new old and new readers. Big thanks to anyone that took the time to leave a review. This chapter takes place the day before the previous one. I was going to open with this but decided I wanted to start with Daryl's pov instead. **

Jean had become an expert at not seeing things she didn't want to deal with. It was a survival skill that was necessary to her life in the Sanctuary. She was safe. Her girls were happy and well fed. Even if that meant that someone else was going to suffer, Jean just chalked it up to life in the new world order. She often had to stop and remind herself that everything wasn't fair and perfect before the turn either.

In the Sanctuary there were three types of people. The dead or dying that filled up the walker moats around the perimeter of the place were the first kind. No one wanted to join that group. The middle tier was full of people that worked for points. These were mostly people that had either been taken from other communities by Negan and forced to work for him, or people that had joined the group willingly but were not skilled at physical combat. The third group was the most elite and included Negan, who was the unquestioned leader of the group, and his lieutenants. The wives and children of these men were considered to be a part of this group and were usually privy to the same special priviledges as their men. These people called themselves the Saviors.

Since her husband was killed, Jean found herself occupying a strange undefinable place in the small society she lived in. She had refused several offers to become a wife to another lieutenant. And had even refused Negan himself, which had frightened her and kept her lying awake in bed at night for several days in a row. The reason she had the luxury of being able to even make that choice was because unlike many of the other wives and concubines that paid their way by spreading their legs, Jean had been working for points even before she lost her husband.

She would have never thought that being a hairstylist would end up being a surival skill. But it turned out that even after the breakdown of society, people's hair still grew and needed to be cut. Jean started out cutting hair in the small kitchenette area of the apartment she and her husband called home inside the large factory that served as the base of operations for the Saviors. Once Negan started wanting her to take care of his wives and keep them looking good, Jean had been smart enough to negotiate a small space in another area of the factory for her purposes. The space was still a little bare looking, but she had a proper chair, sink and even a massage table, all scavenged for her by her husband and some of his close associates on supply runs. All Negan's lieutenants frequented her small salon, plus all their wives and girlfirends. Sometimes even the points workers would save up enough to come in and have a proper haircut. Even without her husband's status as a lieutenant, Jean was able to make enough to pay for what she and her girls needed to survive.

"Close your eyes," Jean told her girls. She was in a hurry to get her daughters dropped off in the kitchen area and get to her salon. Negan himself had an appointment with her that morning and the big man didn't appreciate being made to wait. Jean had started her day off horribly by waking up late, and then her younger daughter had again been unable to locate her shoes or her socks. So instead of taking the long way through the dorms, Jean led her girls outside and around the perimeter of the factory. She hated going that way because it meant having to look at the living dead people that were tied and chained to the fence that surrounded the place.

Jean kept her younger daughter pulled tightly to her side as she led the older girl by the hand.

"Don't look at them Rose," she cautioned the older girl, increasing her speed as she tried to hurry past the disturbing scene to their right. Jean rounded the corner, running smack into one of Negan's top men in her hurry and nearly knocking the man to the ground.

"Oh Simon," she quickly apologized, "I'm so sorry." Jean let go of her older daughter's hand and tugged at the hem of the tall man's shirt to straighten out the wrinkles she had caused. Jean's older daughter immediately started towards the fence to get a better look at the rotting corpses on the other side of it. Jean snagged the girl by the sleeve of her shirt and hauled her back to her side. The girl yanked away from her mother's grasp with an indignant snort but thankfully did not make another attempt to get away.

"What are you doing running around out here?," Simon asked. He smiled at Jean and gave her younger daughter a wink. The girl giggled and buried her face back into her mother's side. Coming outside wasn't wasn't against the rules. But Jean usually took the long way through the factory specifically to avoid this area. When she slammed into him in what appeared to be a complete panic, his first concern was she was running away from someone. And Simon didn't take kindly to anyone harassing the woman he was hoping to develop a romantic relationship with.

"I'm just running late," Jean explained. Simon shook his head and laughed at her.

"Let me walk you the rest of the way?," he offered. Jean smiled back and nodded her head, grateful to the man. While she knew his motives weren't exactly altruistic, he had been very kind to her and her daughters since her husband passed away. He had been sure to make his intentions clear, but so far he hadn't pushed her for anything physical.

Simon crouched down and patted his back, offering Jean's older daughter a piggyback ride on his back. Rose hesitated a moment, her face wrinkled up as she tried to decide if pretending she was to old for such games was worth missing out on having some fun. The little girl in her won out and she lept onto the man's back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He bounced her around as he walked, making her long braided pigtails swing. Jean laughed when the girl squealed and tightened her grip around Simon's neck, nearly choking him.

They rounded another corner and were forced to stop. Dwight was dragging a naked man out of the building by his arm, the rest of his filthy body scraping against the concrete. Jean turned her head and hugged her younger daughter closer to her side. She could only guess that the naked man was the same one that had been brought in a week before with a potato sack over his head. One of the men that had led the raid on the outpost where her husband had been killed. Jean thought she ought to feel anger towards the man and glad that he was being tortured. But looking at his battered body, she felt nothing but pity. If Negan wanted to kill him, he ought to just get on with it instead of dragging it out.

Simon lowered Rose to the ground and grabbed the man's other arm, helping Dwight to drag him the last few feet to the area where the hose would reach him. Other than dirt, he was covered in what Jean guessed was his own vomit and excrement. The smell radiating off him was absolutely foul.

"Is he dead?," Rose asked loudly. The girl took a brave step forward to get a better look at the man. "I can see his thingy!," she hollered, pointing to the man's groin area, "Is it supposed to look like that?" Simon and Dwight started laughing. Jean stepped forward and clamped her hand down over her daughter's eyes.

"Time to go," she hissed, grabbing both girls and dragging them past the gruesome scene. She made it half way around the building before she heard Simon's feet pounding against the pavement as he hurried to catch up with her. They were almost to the entrance that would lead to the kitchen area.

"I can walk them in," Simon offered. Jean nodded gratefully and gave her younger daughter a small push towards the man. "Got plans for lunch?," he asked before Jean could scurry away. She shook her head. The man smiled and gave her a little wave, telling her he would see her at lunch time then.

Once her daughters were out of sight, Jean started rushing towards her salon. She sighed, feeling her tension release when she saw that no one was waiting for her outside the door. She dug her key from her pocket and twisted it in the lock, pushing the door open and darting inside. As soon as she swung the door shut behind her she felt a large pair of hands descend on her, grabbing her hard by the shoulders as the person made a loud startling noise. Jean shrieked and jerked away, turning around to find Negan standing there having a good laugh at her expense.

"God fuckin' dammit," she cursed, "I almost pissed my pants!" This made the big man laugh even harder.

"That's what you get for making me wait," he informed her once his laughter was under control. Jean sighed and laughed a little at herself for startling so easy. She grabbed her apron from it's hook and pulled the loop over her head. Next she turned the faucet on at a low trickle, aiming the water hose down into a large green bucket. The water heater was quite a walk from where she was, so she liked to get the water going so it could heat up. The water she collected in the bucket would be used later to water the plants she grew under a small light in her apartment.

"You know it was Simon's fault that I was late," Jean joked as she pulled a fresh sheet from the cupboard and stretched it out over the massage bed.

"That's my boy! He keep you up late last night," Negan teased back, making a very obscene gesture that Jean pretended she didn't see.

"No," she countered with a giggle even though she didn't think his joke was very funny, "he was walking me here and he stopped to help Dwight drag some naked guy out of the building to get hosed off."

"Still got ole Simon in the friendzone do ya?," Negan teased, unwilling to change the subject from her lack of putting out to something that would make her less uncomfortable. Jean opened another cupboard, looking for the unscented cocoa butter that Negan preferred when suddenly her grief hit her like a freight train. She held it off as best she could, only crying when she was alone in bed. The last person she wanted to look weak in front of was Negan. Jean bit her lip and forced herself to blink back her tears. But she hadn't been quick enough.

The last person Jean ever expected to get any sympathy from was Negan. She had never seen anything from him besides brute strength and dirty jokes. He took her by surprise when she felt his hand on her shoulder. The large man pulled her against his chest and rubbed her back, letting her cry into his shirt.

"John was a good man," he said. Jean felt the man's grip on her tighten as he pulled her against the growing buldge in his pants. She had to fight the urge to jerk away from him. She knew he wouldn't force himself on her but Jean also knew Negan wasn't above making life very difficult for her if he felt she had insulted him or slighted him in some way. He didn't rape women, but that was only because most of the women in the sanctuary were too afraid to refuse him even if they wanted to. Jean felt his hand move up, stroking her long dark hair. Then his hand moved under her chin, forcing her to tilt her tear stained face up and look at him.

"He was a good man," Negan repeated, "but that doesn't mean you have to punish yourself." The man paused, wiping her tears away with his fingers. "There's no reason a woman as hot as you should be alone."

Jean's mind swirled as she tried to think of some way, any way, that she could get herself out of the situation she was in without putting herself or her girls in jeopardy. Because telling Negan that he was a disgusting chauvinist swine and she would put shit in her mouth before she slid his dick between her lips probably wasn't the best idea. He was looking like he was thinking about trying to kiss her and she knew she needed to say something quick before that happened.

"All those other women," Jean finally spit out, "That's not something I can do. I'm sorry." Jean scanned the man's face as she said a silent prayer to herself. For a moment she wanted to take it all back. She was afraid for her girls. Agreeing to be one of Negan's whores would guarantee their safety. But there was something inside Jean that was stronger than her fear. The same deep rooted strength that had given her the courage to stand up to her own father all those years ago when he demanded that she give the bastard child she was pregnant with up for adoption and she had kept the baby instead gave her strength again that day not to give in.

Jean could tell from Negan's expression that he was not happy with being refused. But he didn't look as angry as she had seen him before. She hoped that saying she didn't want to share him was padding the blow to his enormous ego.

"Don't play well with others?," he teased. Jean relaxed a little, hoping that his joke was signalling the end of the discussion. But then the man's mouth curved up into a sickening grin. A chill snaked up her spine. She was going to have to pay for her decision. That much was clear from the way Negan was looking at her. The only question now was how high the price was going to be.