Between the Thorns

Chapter 13

Jean turned and ran. She wasn't even sure where she was headed, only that she needed to get away from the disgusting scene she had just witnessed. The rubber soles of her sneakers squeaked against the hard concrete of the shop floor. In her hurry to get out of the garage area she smashed her elbow on the door, the jolt to her funny bone sending a wave of radiating pain up through her arm into her shoulder. She clutched her arm to her chest and kept running.

Her shock at what she had seen wore off quickly. Anger followed it. But the anger was short lived as well. Very quickly, Jean came to the realization that she had no right to be angry. Daryl wasn't her husband. He wasn't her boyfriend. She wasn't sure if he was even her friend. He owed her no loyalty and was free to put his dick in the mouth of whatever whore would have him. Including Laura.

Jean started heading back towards her apartment but she didn't want her daughters to see her upset. Instead of going home, she turned and ducked into the stairwell that led into the depths of the Sanctuary. It was dark and dingy inside, the stairs only light by a few electric torches that were fastened to the wall near the door of each floor. It felt good to be cloaked in the shadows, to have one private moment where no one was watching or judging her every action and expression.

Jean sat down hard, banging her tailbone against the cement step behind her. Ignoring the physical pain, she buried her face in her hands and tried to stop the tears from coming. She was a fool. It had been stupid of her to allow herself to develop any sort of feelings for a man she barely knew. Feelings she hadn't even been sure she had until she saw Daryl with another woman. And deep down Jean felt she deserved to be hurt for even the thought of moving on so quickly after her husband died.

A soft tap on the shoulder snapped Jean out of her self loathing. She jumped at the unexpected contact. Turning with a gasp, she was relieved to find that the person wasn't a threat. Sherry sat down on the stair above her, a lit cigarette pinched between her fingers. Jean opened her mouth to ask the woman what she was doing lurking around in the stairwell. Before the words formed she had already snapped her mouth shut. She already knew what Sherry was doing. She was avoiding Negan.

"Your daughter?," Sherry asked, obviously assuming that Jean was crying about the incident that happened the day before. Jean shook her head. Sherry held out her half full pack of smokes, offering one to Jean. It had been years since Jean smoked. Her husband hated the smell of cigarettes. Jean hesitated, staring at Sherry's outstretched hand. Then finally she reached over and plucked a cigarette from the open pack. Lighting the smoke, she sucked in a drag so deep it made her cough and choke. Sherry laughed and gave her a few friendly pats on the back.

"So what's wrong?," Sherry asked. She moved down a step so that the two women were sitting side by side. The short flowery print dress Sherry had on hiked up, revealing the pale skin of her thighs and the bruises that lined the insides of them. Jean averted her eyes, staring down at the lit cigarette in her hands instead. She had become an expert at not seeing things she didn't want to deal with.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know," Jean answered. She took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly before she added the embarrassing truth about why she was bawling in the stairwell. "I went to take Daryl his lunch and when I got there Laura was sucking his dick."

"That fucking skank," Sherry mumbled under her breath. She shook her head and took another drag off her cigarette before she added, "You know she fucked Dwight?" Jean nodded. Everyone knew Laura fucked Dwight. Because she not only liked to sleep around, she also liked to brag about her conquests to anyone that would listen.

"I would really like to kick her ass," Sherry announced.

There was an awkward pause in the conversation. Jean and Sherry looked at each other, both of them trying to decide what their chances were of winning a fight against a woman that was twice their size and three times as strong might be. It would be like a little chihuahua trying to take on a Doberman pinscher. The mental image caused both women to break out into a collective fit of laughter.

Once their laughter had subsided, Jean and Sherry sat quietly together. Jean reached over and caught Sherry's hand in hers. The woman gripped her back like she was drowning and Jean was her floatation device. They had both lost the men they loved. But not in the same way. Jean missed her husband terribly. But she could only imagine how much worse it would feel if instead of being dead, John was only a few rooms away and she wasn't allowed to go to him. Pain like that would swallow a person alive.

"Do you miss D?," Jean asked. Her voice was so low it was scarcely above a whisper. But still Sherry gasped. Speaking negatively about Negan was terrifying. It was forbidden. Most people were so afraid of what might happen that they didn't even speak badly about him in the privacy of their own homes. To imply that one of his wives didn't want to be with him would be considered a very serious infraction. He would take it as a personal insult. And no one insulted Negan and got away with it.

Sherry leaned back and looked up the stairs as far as she could see. Then she leaned forward and looked down, checking to make sure they were totally alone before she answered. Only then did she dare to nod her head.

"I miss him every minute of every day," she whispered.

Jean flicked the last smoldering bit of her cigarette away and pulled Sherry into her arms. The two women clung to each other, both of them enjoying one small moment of being real before they had to go back to pretending like everything was going to be alright. When she let go and leaned back, Jean could tell Sherry had already pulled herself back together. Her face was once again a pretty mask that she wore to hide her true feelings. Feelings she kept buried down deep inside her heart.

"So you like Daryl then?," Sherry teased, eager to lighten the subject. Jean wrinkled up her nose and shook her head. Sherry snorted out a laugh. Jean wasn't fooling anyone except herself. "Then what do you care if he's porking Laura?," Sherry asked.

"I don't care," Jean announced with a grunt of indignation. She hoped if she kept repeating the phrase that it might eventually stick. Now it was Sherry's turn to reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Is that why you were crying down here in the dark?," Sherry asked, "...because you don't care?" Jean sighed. She lifted Sherry's hand and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of her palm. Jean rose to her feet and pulled the other woman up behind her. They kept hold of each other's hands until the reached the door that led out of the stairwell. Then Jean let go. She had to get back to her daughters and Sherry had to get back to her husband before their extended absence was noticed.

TWD

Simon noticed her the moment she entered the cafeteria. He always noticed her. Jean wasn't just an attractive woman, she was more than that. She had a smile that lit up the room. On the few occasions that she had smiled at him it was like the end of the world never happened.

Jean entered the cafeteria alone, which was unusual for her. She always took her daughters with her everywhere she went. Simon had heard some disturbing rumors about an incident that happened the day before. The stories varied in severity and believability but the common thread was that one of Jean's daughters had been attacked and that the new guy that was staying with her rescued the girl.

Simon was leaning against the wall, pretending to be interested in some stupid update on security that one of the new perimeter guards was giving him. He straightened up his posture when he saw Jean walking in his direction. But she passed right by him without so much as a glance on her way into the smaller kitchen area where the food was ordered and picked up. Simon lingered near the doorway hoping to catch the woman on her way out. He thought he might be able to talk her into eating lunch with him. Or at the very least he planned to walk her back to her apartment so he might have a chance to talk to her. He was upset by the idea that someone had hurt or attempted to hurt one of Jean's daughters. And Simon's admittedly selfish hope was that he might be able to turn the horrible situation to his advantage. If Jean married him, he could offer her his protection. No one would touch the wife or stepchildren of one of Negan's lieutenants. In his mind it would be a win for both of them. He would get to lay claim on the woman he desired and Jean wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything.

Jean hurried through the doorway. Simon didn't have time to get a word out before she was already halfway across the large cafeteria. What was strange to him was that she wasn't heading towards her apartment. She was heading the opposite way. Simon's curiosity got the better of him. He moved to follow the woman, waving off the guard that was still talking to him.

Simon followed Jean, but no too closely. He wanted to know where she was going but he didn't want her to know that he was behind her. They got about halfway to the garage before he figured out what she was doing. Jean was taking lunch to that asshole Daryl. There was no other reason why she would be carrying a lunch tray down into the garage area. Simon huffed out his frustrations and kicked the wall with the toe of his boot. He ducked down an adjacent hallway and pounded the wall a few times with the heel of his hand. If he hadn't looked up at just the right moment he would have missed her.

Jean came flying back out of the garage area. She passed by in a blur, too fast for Simon to see the pained expression on her face. He hurried back the way he had come, again following Jean without her knowledge. This time he wasn't doing it because he was curious. He was filled with genuine concern for her.

At first it looked like Jean was going to head back to her apartment. But about halfway there she took a detour and ducked into the stairwell that led down into the holding area. Simon eased the door open silently behind her. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her shoulders were shaking. She was crying. For a moment, Simon was torn between going to Jean and offering her whatever comforting words he could muster up and heading back to the garage and beating Daryl senseless for whatever that douche had done to upset her. But in the end he did neither of these things. Simon ducked into the dark stairwell and headed up the steps instead of down. He sat down in the shadows near the wall and listened to Jean and Sherry's very private conversation.

Simon was shocked at the way the two women spoke about Negan. He had his own reservations about the man. But to think something and to say it out loud were too different animals. Both Jean and Sherry could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard them. Negan had spies everywhere. But what was more upsetting than that was the fact that Jean admitted to having some sort of romantic feelings for the man that was living with her. Simon had hoped that Daryl would drive Jean into his arms, not steal her away from him. By the time that the two women wiped their faces up and headed back to their own living spaces, Simon was sure of one thing. If he wanted any shot with Jean the first thing he would have to do was get rid of Daryl Dixon.