Between the Thorns
Chapter 4
Daryl's head was bagged when he was brought in. Now that he had the chance to look around, he tried to act as if he didn't have much interest in his surroundings. But as Jean led him through the giant maze of a place his trained eyes scanned everything. He looked for every and any possible avenue of escape. The Saviors base camp appeared to be a large factory that had been converted into a sort of liveable fortress. From the few small glimses he had seen of the surrounding area, the ground was flat for at least a mile around the place. All the trees had been cleared. It would be impossible to get either in or out of the Sanctuary without being seen.
Jean stopped by what looked like a small commissary in one of the larger gathering areas. This particular room was set up like a large cafeteria, although only a few of the many tables were being used at the moment. No one blantantly stared, but Daryl could feel their curious eyes on him. From that alone he knew that strangers were a rarity in this place. He was going to have a hard time blending in. Jean asked a large man in a Nirvana t-shirt for a bottle of water. The man made a few marks on a clipboard before handing the requested item over to her. She handed the water over to Daryl, motioning for him to continue following her.
When they moved out of the way, another man stepped up to the counter. Daryl was concentrating on his surroundings so he didn't hear the beginning of the argument. But he paused in the doorway, watching as the man behind the counter leaned over it to punch the other man in his nose. A small tug on the flannel sleeve of his shirt reminded him that Jean was there. She leaned in close enough that Daryl could smell her. The scent of baby powder and soap lingered on her skin.
"Not our business," she whispered. She gave Daryl one more gentle tug before she let go of his sleeve and started moving, glancing behind her once to make sure Daryl was following. They walked down a few more winding hallways before finally arriving at their destination. Jean hadn't told him where they were going, only that she was going to take him to work with her until they figured out what Daryl's job was going to be. She didn't specify who they were and Daryl didn't ask.
Daryl wasn't sure exacty where he expected Jean to take him. She had said something about her girls working in the kitchen so he had assumed Jean had a similar job. To say he was surprised when she unlocked a door and led him into what appeared to be a small hair salon would be an understatement. He had never been in a beauty shop before. Merle used to go to a barber. But Daryl always cut his own hair at home with a pair of electric clippers. That was if he cut it at all. Jean motioned for him to sit in a large black chair that had a strange plastic hood contraption attached to the back of it. When he hesitated she smiled at him, revealing her small even teeth and the tiny dimples in her cheeks.
"It's just a dryer," she told him, her voice indicating that she thought he was acting like a bit of a baby, "Won't hurt you." Daryl sat where she pointed, relieved to be positioned in the back corner of the small room where no one would be able to sneak up on him. He sat quietly, watching Jean move around the place. She pulled a thin black apron over her head, wrapping the long strings all the way around her slim waist to tie them in front. She lit a few scented candles and turned a water hose on to a low trickle, letting it flow into a large green bucket that was sitting on the floor under the sink. Her hands glided over an old well worn looking CD player. Daryl tensed up. Loud music was one of the ways that he had been tortured. But the music from Jean's music box was quiet and soothing. Some old classic country with the volume so low that it was hard to make out the words.
As Jean busied herself washing a small bundle of combs and brushes out in a small utility sink, the door to the small shop swung open. A tall man with a receding hairline and a bushy moustache walked in. Seeing an unfamiliar man put Daryl on edge. Out of instinct he reached for his knife. Finding nothing but the empty waistband of his jeans Daryl settled for clenching the large water bottle he was holding in his fist as the man approached. Daryl was prepared for a fight. But other than to give him a rather dirty look the man paid him no attention. He headed straight for Jean.
"Simon," she said, plastering what Daryl considered to be a very fake looking smile on her face, "I wasn't expecting you this morning..." The man moved closer to Jean, placing one of his hands on the small of her back. Daryl's jaw ticked. He knew he had no claim on this woman. But he still didn't like another man putting his hands on her in such a familiar way.
"I need to talk to you," Simon said. He cast a glance over his shoulder, giving Daryl another dirty look before he turned and spoke to him. "Could you excuse us," he said, lifting his hand from Jean's back to point at the door. Daryl stared back at the man. He didn't like him touching Jean and he liked the idea of leaving her alone with this asshole even less. But Daryl forced himself to look objectively at the situation. Jean was obviously familiar with this man. The stance of her body was slightly more tense than it had been before the man came in, but she did not appear to be afraid of the man or upset by his presence in her personal space. Daryl was also aware of his position in this new group. Or rather his lack of position. Any slight or show of agression towards one or any of Negan's man was likely to land him back down in that tiny dark box.
Daryl got up and headed for the door, purposely moving as leisurely as possible. He clicked it shut behind him and leaned against the wall outside. Daryl briefly entertained the idea of making some kind of run for it. Instead he settled for taking a long sip of water and reminding himself that the only way out was to earn trust. They would take him out on another run eventually. And that's when he would make his move. Instead of running, Daryl edged closer to the door, hoping to hear some of what was being said inside.
Simon moved his hand from her waist and set it on her arm. Normally Jean wouldn't have minded the familiar contact from him but she was still feeling good and pissed at the man from the day before. Ultimatums didn't sit well with her. They never had. Negan had given her a choice. Marry Simon or take some strange man in to live with her. A man that Negan said had been with the group that killed everyone at the outpost including her husband John. And Simon had just stood there and not said one fucking word. He could have spoken up for her. But he didn't. Probably because he had been hoping she would let Negan bully her into marrying him. Where she came from that wasn't exactly considered a romantic gesture.
"I'm sorry," he said. Jean crossed her arms under her breasts and stared up at him, waiting to see if his apology was going to be followed up with some pathetic excuse for his behavior. "I had no idea Negan was going to put you on the spot like that," he said. Jean sighed, feeling herself soften a little towards the man. She hated when people followed apologies with excuses but Simon did seem sincere. And sincerely upset.
"What's done is done," Jean announced with a shrug of her shoulders. Simon slid his hand up to squeeze gently at her upper arm. And he was lucky that's all he tried because while Jean was feeling a little sorry for him, if tried to hug or kiss her, her sympathy wasn't going to save him from getting kicked square in the balls.
"It doesn't have to be done," he said. His voice had a touch of pleading and melancholy to it. "I can talk to Negan..." Talk to Negan. Jean knew what that meant. More of the same bullshit from the day before. She wasn't going to be threatened or forced into a relationship she didn't want.
"I just lost my husband. I'm not getting married again anytime soon," she spit, "Not to you. NOT TO ANYONE!" The loss of her husband was still a fresh open wound inside her. Jean knew she needed to reel in her anger before she made an enemy out of the only person that had shown her any kindness. She took a deep breath and forced herself not to yell and scream and order Simon away from her.
"It wouldn't be... I mean I don't expect...," Simon lifted his hands and raked them through his hair, stuttering and stammering in his attempt to find the right words. "John was my friend," he reminded her, his tone low and gentle despite her rising anger. "I just want to take care of you. And your girls. That's all."
"And all I have to do in return is warm your bed for you, right?," Jean asked. She wasn't blind and she wasn't stupid. She knew how things worked. Negan and all his cronies made a big show of keeping the women around this place safe. But what they were really doing was turning them into whores. And she wasn't any man's whore.
"It wouldn't be like that," Simon insisted. He wasn't going to lie and say he didn't want to sleep with her. Jean was a beautiful woman. But more than that, everyone knew she never screwed around on her husband. Not like most of the so-called wives around this place. Even when John was gone out on runs that took him several weeks Jean never even looked at anyone else. That made her more than beautiful. That made her a prize to be won. Pretty much every man in the place was on a mission to be the one that got into her tight pants. But that didn't mean Simon didn't care about her. "I would never make you do anything you didn't want to do, you know that."
Simon could see the angry tears welling up in the corners of Jean's dark eyes. He hoped that meant she was ready to give in to his pleading. All he wanted to do was hold her. But at the very least he could get her safely into his apartment and away from that freeloading straggler. That guy looked like a fucking animal. Simon didn't like the idea of him being alone with Jean and her girls.
Jean sighed. She was angry. She was depressed. But most of all she was tired. Tired of being strong. So tired that for a moment agreeing to marry a man she wasn't in love with seemed preferable over continuing to argue with him about it. She felt like she only had so much fight left in her. She wasn't even sure anymore what she was even fighting for.
"I can't do this right now..." Jean said.
A knock on the door saved Jean from having to finish her refusal, which even she could admit was getting weaker and more pathetic by the second. Just like her.
"Sherry's here for her appointment," Jean chirped. This time she put her hand on Simon's arm as she steered the man towards the door. "I'll have to talk to you later." With that Jean turned her attention to Sherry. Sherry had always been perceptive when it came to the moods of people around her. And this was no exception. She ignored the fact that Simon was lingering in the doorway and started up a conversation with Jean about shoes. Which was really a conversation about nothing.
Sherry had slipped past. But now the man was blocking Daryl's way back into the salon. Daryl watched as Simon's irritation at being ignored by the two women inside grew. Finally he turned on his heel and stormed off, intentionally slamming his shoulder into Daryl's when he passed by. Daryl ignored the contact. After seeing Glenn's head bashed into pieces in front of him having another man bump into him just didn't cause the same reaction that it might have several months ago.
"Please shut the door behind you," Jean requested. Daryl clicked the door shut and returned to the corner seat to drink his water. With Simon gone the superficial conversation the two women were having stopped. Sherry rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around Jean. The two of them clung to each other like if they let go they both might blow away and crumble into a million pieces.
"Are you okay," Sherry asked they let go of each other. Jean nodded her head. Sherry sat back down in the styling chair, lifting her hair so Jean could fasten a black cape around her neck. "How about you Daryl?," Sherry asked, "How are you holding up?" Jean stopped and cocked her head, glancing back and forth between Sherry and Daryl with a confused look on her face.
"How do you two know each other?"