Between the Thorns

Chapter 20

"Where did you hear that name?," Daryl hissed. He jerked away, shoving himself up until he was sitting upright and Jean's head had flopped down onto the mattress. She was resting her head on his chest and didn't expect such a sudden movement. Jean clutched the blanket against her chest and backed up, the confusion and shock showing plainly on her face.

"Who put you up to this?," Daryl asked, his voice rising. Having apparently answered that question in his own mind, he didn't wait for an answer before adding, "What did he offer ya?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jean said, her voice quivering. She knew she would probably regret sleeping with Daryl. But she wasn't expecting to regret it quite so soon. She also had absolutely no clue what he was so upset about. She supposed it wasn't the best manners to bring up another man she slept with while they were in bed. But Daryl's reaction to the name of Rose's no good sperm donor seemed extreme. The two men had the same last name. But Jean still assumed there was no way Daryl knew the other man. And if he did, it was the strangest coincidence in history. Jean racked her brain for any other possible explanation. But Daryl must know Rose's father somehow. It was the only thing that would explain his behavior.

"I was sixteen. My cousin borrowed her friend's ID for me to use. We went down to a bar close to the military base. She said we would see some cute guys in uniforms. And she would get one of them to buy me a margarita," Jean said. Her voice was shaking and Daryl was still staring at her like she had betrayed him in the worst way possible. "These two guys, they were a little old for us but they kept buying us drinks. When I got up to go to the bathroom, one of them caught me in the hallway on my way back to the table and pulled me out the exit door to the parking lot. I only know his name because his dog tag was hitting me in the face while he was on top of me."

Daryl was still half convinced that this was part of whatever sick torture Negan was inflicting on him. He started to pick Jean's story apart in his mind. Merle was stationed in Virginia. It was his last post before he was discharged. And that was a little over ten years before the outbreak. Rose was twelve. The dates added up. And no one in his group had any idea that Merle was ever stationed there. Daryl didn't mention his brother much. It made people uncomfortable. Even Rick. Daryl slid down, lying back with his head on a pillow and his hands covering his face. Jean was still sitting up, the blanket clutched against her naked breasts.

"Did Merle know?," Daryl asked, his voice muffled by his hands. "...did you tell him he knocked ya up?" When Jean didn't answer right away, Daryl pulled his hands down and glanced up at her. She was staring at him with wide frightened eyes. And her bottom lip was quivering. She shook her head. After that disgusting man took her virginity from her forcefully in a bar parking lot and then laughed at her for crying afterwards, Jean decided maybe he wasn't exactly father of the year material. She wasn't sure if she felt comfortable telling Daryl about that. Her husband John was the only person Jean ever told. And that was years later, when he decided he wanted to legally adopt Rose.

"How do you know him?," Jean asked. Daryl let out a heavy sigh.

"He's my brother," Daryl admitted, sighing again when Jean slid back across the bed, moving further away from him.

"He's not with your group is he?," she asked. Her eyes were darting around the room and she looked like she was on the verge of a full fledged panic attack. Daryl realized at that moment that not only was Jean not tricking him in any way, but that his idiot brother must have done something terrible to her. And from her brief explanation of how she knew Merle, Daryl had a fairly good idea what. "Ohmygod! You can't tell him about Rose," Jean gushed. "Please don't tell him…"

"He's not with my group," Daryl told her. "Merle's dead. He died back in Georgia. Before we came here."

"I'm uh… I'm so sorry," Jean said. She sounded like she was sincerely sorry for Daryl's pain. But from the obvious look of relief on her face, she clearly wasn't sorry to hear that Merle was dead. And Daryl really couldn't blame her for that. Daryl pushed his hair back out of his face and inserted the side of his thumb into his mouth, nibbling on the skin around his nail. The pieces were slowly clicking together in his mind. Daryl knew there was something familiar about Jean's older daughter from the start. She had his brother's eyes. And his hair. Merle never let his hair get very long. Because it was crazy curly. Just like Rose's.

"Fuckin' hell…," Daryl mumbled. "That's my niece up there." When he looked to Jean for confirmation of this, he could see that unlike him, she still looked quite upset by their conversation. She was gripping the blanket so hard, her knuckles looked almost white. Daryl didn't know how to be a husband. He never even had a steady girlfriend before. But he was pretty sure that if his wife was crying and refusing to come near him on his wedding night, that meant he was doing something wrong. Daryl reached across the small space, putting his hand on his shoulder. She jumped slightly when he made contact. But she didn't jerk away from his touch. He hoped that was a good sign.

"M'sorry I hollered at ya," he said, trying to keep his voice low and even. He moved his hand down onto her arm, tugging gently. "Will ya lay back down with me?," he asked. Jean didn't say no. But she didn't move towards him either. He remembered she said something about wanting to take a shower before they started talking about his brother. Merle. Who somehow managed to return from beyond the grave and muck up the best night Daryl had since before the dead started walking around. And maybe ever before that. "Would ya rather take a shower?," he asked.

"Okay," Jean said, her voice barely above a whisper. Daryl tossed the covers off his own body. Then he reached for Jean, untangling them from her grasp and letting her hold onto his hand instead of the blankets. She hesitated for a moment. But then she slid across the bed and let Daryl lead her into the small bathroom. He turned on the water, adjusting the handles so that it was warm but not too hot. Jean pulled a small elastic off her wrist and wrapped her hair up into a bun on top of her head. Then she shrugged off his dress shirt and wrapped her arms around her naked body. Daryl pulled her under the warm spray with him, holding her gently against his chest. She was stiff in his arms at first. But soon he felt her body start to relax. Her arms wrapped around his waist. And she rested her head against his shoulder.

"We don't ever hafta talk about that shit again," Daryl promised her as he rubbed his hands over her back. Jean pulled back, tilting her chin up to look at him.

"When you said he was your brother…," Jean explained. "I was so scared he might try to come and take Rose from me. I'd die if anything happened to her." The fear was always there inside her. Even after Jean married John and he legally adopted Rose. Even after John promised Jean that he would die before he let some asshole take their daughter away from them. There was still a little twinge of fear that lingered. She was terrified that one day she might go to pick up the girls from school and Rose just wouldn't be there. Snatched up by the parking lot rapist that fathered her.

"That ain't ever gonna happen," Daryl assured her, hugging Jean protectively against his chest. "If anyone tries anymore shit with the girls or with you, I'm gonna fuck them up."

Jean's arms slid up, as she pressed in close to him. She wrapped them around his neck, pulling his head down so she could get her lips on his. Her lips parted, eager for his tongue. They kissed as the warm water sluiced down over their bodies. When Daryl slid his hands down to grip her ass, she leaped up into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. He supported her slight weight with one hand, reaching behind him with the other to twist the water back off. Then he pulled the bathroom door open and carried her across the room towards the bed.

"Are you playing the tape back?," Negan asked, leaning into the small room just a few doors down from Daryl's wedding suite.

The man who had his eyes glued to the small television set jumped. Realizing that it was Negan in the doorway, he started fumbling out of his chair, trying to scramble onto his knees. The man waved him off, telling him to stay seated and answer his question.

"No sir," the man explained, "I'm not playing it back. This is live."

"Holy fucking fuck," Negan declared. "Are they really still going at it?" He would never admit it, but he was getting a little jealous of his newest lieutenant. Jean was hot. But he had no idea she was such a fucking animal in the sack. No wonder her husband was always so excited to see her.

"Yeah. They fucked. Then they talked for a while. They went into the bathroom and took a shower. Then they came back out and started fucking again."

Negan nodded his approval, taking a moment to watch what was happening on the screen. Either Jean and Daryl didn't know they were being recorded or just didn't care. Because they were putting on one hell of a show. Negan would have been happy just to get a little kissy face under the covers video. This exceeded his expectations by far.

"Whenever they finally wrap it up, you know what to do?," Negan asked. The man nodded his head vigorously. He was to deliver the tape to Alexandria and give it to their leader. He had no idea why. But was smart enough not to ask questions. "Make sure Rick gets it," Negan said, reminding the man of his orders.

"Yes sir. I'll hand deliver it to him personally."