Between the Thorns

Chapter 11

Daryl sat at the table, looking down at the few bites of food that were left on his plate. He was already full, but throwing away anything that was even partially edible never sat right with him. As he pushed the few remaining bits of potato around on his plate, he could hear the book Jean was reading to her daughters as she put the girls to bed in the next room. From his angle he could only see Rose's feet, two small girl foot sized lumps under a light purple woven blanket.

"Dr. Carson gave me medicine you can take to help you sleep if you need it," Jean offered once she had finished the chapter she was reading and placed the book on the small table next to Rose's bed. Lily had fallen asleep after the first page. She was snoring softly in the bed furthest away from the door, one of her father's old beat up shirts clutched tightly in her arms.

"I'm fine," Rose said, "I didn't like the way that stuff made me feel." Her mother looked unsure so Rose offered up a compromise. "I will take a tylenol for my arm." Her mother smiled and hurried to fetch the small white tablet for her. After she swallowed it with a sip of water from the cup on her nightstand, she allowed her mother to pull her into a gentle hug. They held onto each other for a long time. Jean stroked her hands over her daughter's hair and rubbed her back. Finally she let go and Rose sunk down into her pillow. She looked so small and helpless lying there, so much younger than she looked when she was clomping around the apartment. Jean had to fight back her tears for what felt like at least the hundreth time in the last few hours. She swore to herself she wasn't going to lose it in front of her girls. They had already been through enough without watching their mother have the nervous breakdown that Jean felt like she was well overdue for.

"I love you so much," Jean said. She cupped Rose's cheek with her hand, rubbing her thumb back and forth across the little bit of baby softness that was left in the girl. "I would die if anything ever happened to you."

"I love you too mom," Rose whispered back, nuzzling into her mother's gentle touch instead of jerking away as had been her habit of late. "Don't cry," she added. Rose looked over her mother's shoulder, smiling at what she saw there. Jean turned, following the girl's gaze.

"S'alright if I say g'night to 'er?," Daryl asked. He was hovering in the doorway, looking unsure about whether or not his presence there would be welcome. Jean smiled through the tears in her eyes.

"Of course you can say goodnight if you want to," Jean assured him. Rose held her arms out, beckoning the man to come closer to her. Jean rose from the bed and side stepped Daryl, moving to lean against the doorframe. She took the spot Daryl had just vacated. He shuffled over towards the small bed. Rose grasped him by the hand and pulled the man down so she could wrap her skinny arms around his neck. How awkward and unsure Daryl was only served to make the whole scene look just that much more adorable.

"G'night," he said, eager to back away where he would be out of reach. It didn't bother him as much, since she was just a kid, but he was still uncomfortable with open displays of physical affection. Rose smiled and returned his sentiment. Then she rolled onto her side and pulled the covers up to her chin. Jean waited until Daryl was out of the room before she clicked the light off and shut the door almost all the way, leaving it open juat a crack so she could listen for her girls in case they needed her in the night.

Jean disappeared into her bedroom without any further discussion. When her door clicked shut, Daryl headed for the couch and began to shift the pillow and blanket around so he could try and get some sleep himself. He was taken aback when Jean reappeared a few seconds later, dressed in soft cotton drawstring pants and an oversized t-shirt. Her feet were bare and there was chipped red polish on her toes.

"No," she said. Jean walked across the small room and snatched up the pillow and blanket Daryl had been using to make up his bed on the couch. "After what you did for us today I'm not going to have you sleeping on a couch," she announced.

"I'm not puttin' ya outta yer own bed," Daryl argued. He made a grab for the pillow in Jean's hands but she danced back out of his reach.

"It's a king sized bed. I'm pretty sure we can both fit," Jean assured him.

It took a moment for her words to sink in. Jean wasn't just offering to let him sleep in her bed. She was inviting him to sleep in her bed with her. Daryl's eyes roamed over her body as he wondered if she was inviting him ito her room for something more than just a good night's rest. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cross that line with her. His body did. In fact the sweats Jean had given him to wear after they had all taken turns washing up in one of the tiled shower rooms that the residents of the Sanctuary used for bathing were already feeling tighter in the crotch just from the thought of the possibility of getting Jean's smaller body under his larger one. But Daryl wasn't sure if he was ready for the ramifications that might come from such an act. And he was suspicious of Jean's motives. He had helped her because it was the right thing to do. She didn't owe him anything for that. And he certainly wasn't expecting sex as payment for saving her daughter. Seeing the girl home safe was thanks enough.

Jean hugged the pillow tighter against her chest. She was grateful to have it in her arms, mainly to hide how hard her nipples had become. She had never become aroused just from having a man look at her before. But suddenly the blush was rising in her cheeks. She could tell from the change in his body posture and facial expressions that Daryl was under the impression that she was offering to have sex with him. She wasn't. Not that she didn't want to. But she didn't feel emotionally ready for anything even close to that. But he thought that's what she meant. And still he was hesitating. Somehow that made him more appealing.

"Ya don't owe me that," Daryl said, his low tone drawl finally breaking the heavy silence between them.

"Just to sleep," she squeaked out. Clearing her throat, Jean repeated herself, "I only meant to sleep. Not that."

Jean half expected the conversation to turn ugly. For Daryl to get angry and accuse her of being a tease. But he only nodded. He looked more relieved than anything else.

Daryl climed into the large bed on the side that had a small empty table next to it. Jean stalked quietly around the apartment, turning off the lights. Soon they were bathed only in the dim light of the nightlight she kept turned on for her daughters. Jean slid under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. She had been right. There was plenty of space for them both to sleep in the large bed. Daryl knew he was only inviting trouble but he found himself a little disappointed that she was so far away from him.

The mattress was soft and plush. The blankets were heavy and warm. The whole bed smelled like Jean's lavendar and honey shampoo. For the first time since he arrived Daryl didn't miss his old bed in Alexandria. Not at all. As he snuggled down into his pillow, Daryl heard a ragged breath being drawn in on the other side of the bed. She was being as quiet as possible, muffing her sobs into the pillow. But Jean was over there crying. Daryl was sure of it.

Daryl started off by rolling the other way and putting his back to her. Once again he told himself that Jean's problems were not his problems. And how to deal with crying women wasn't exactly his specialty. But then Daryl started thinking about what had happened to her daughter earlier that day. And about how much Jean was probably missing her husband. Very quickly Daryl started to feel like the most uncaring person in the world for lying there and not offering her even a word of comfort.

Rolling his body back the other way, Daryl inched across the bed. Once Jean was in arm's reach of him he closed the distance between them and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gasped when he touched her and he almost yanked his hand back. But then her hand closed down over his, keeping him where he was. They stayed frozen in that position for what felt like an eternity. Neither of them was sure what the next move might be.

"I hafta get back ta my people," Daryl whispered, "I can't stay here forever."

Daryl wasn't sure where the words had come from. Only that the one thing he was sure of was that he didn't want to cause Jean any further pain. He knew it was stupid of him to warn anyone in the Sanctuary that he planned to run away at the first available opportunity. But the truth had just come spilling out. Maybe speaking it aloud had been his way of reminding himself that he was needed somewhere else.

"I know," Jean whispered back.

Her voice sounded so small and so sad that it crumbled that last bit of self restraint Daryl had inside him. He reached out with both arms and pulled her across the bed towards him until she was gathered up in his arms with her head resting on his chest. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower and it smelled even better than the pillow he had been resting his head on. Once he was holding her tight against him, she started crying harder. Jean gripped the thin material of his grey t-shirt. A shirt that Daryl was sure used to belong to her husband. Just like everything else he now had in his possession. Including Jean. Her sobs racked her small body. Daryl held on tight, feeling like he was caught in a boat at sea during a storm.

Soon Jean had rid her body of all the emotions of the day. She felt embarrassed for crying in front of Daryl. But from the way he was holding her she knew he didn't mind. He held her close with one strong arm. With his other hand he was caressing her long dark hair, twirling the long silky strands around his fingers and then releasing them only to start the process over again. She had been right about his arms. They were meant for holding.

Jean adjusted her body, tucking in closer to Daryl's side. She hiked one leg up, draping it over his thigh so her foot rested between his knees. She hummed a tiny sigh of pleasure before she nuzzled her head into the nook under his shoulder. Sleep and the comforting warmth of his body were staring to make her eyes droop. But there was something that had been nagging at the corners of her mind. A question she hadn't felt comfortable enough to ask the man beside her until after he had taken her into his arms.

"Your people back home...," Jean murmured, "Are you trying to get back to someone that you love?"

Daryl paused, unsure of how to answer her question. Rick and Carol and Carl and Maggie and all the rest of them. They were family. The only functional family Daryl had even known. He loved them. But he didn't think he loved them in the way Jean was asking about. She wanted to know if he had a wife or girlfriend he was trying to get back to. Maybe even kids of his own. He didn't have any of that.

"No," he said. The word felt like a betrayal to Rick. But it was true. There was no one back in Alexandria that he loved. Not in the way that Jean had loved her husband. The man that was dead because of them.

Jean's next question threw him more than her first. It kept Daryl lying awake for a long while, even after Jean had long since stopped waiting for an answer and was sleeping soundly in his arms.

"Then what are you fighting so hard to get back to?"