Part Seven

"So tell me about your lady friend," Jesse asked Daryl. He wasn't sure if he'd picked up that phraseology from Daryl himself or from Jack, and that made Jesse uncomfortable. Maybe he had lived in that grate for so long that he'd begun to talk like them, think like them. Maybe he'd go home to Andrea and discover that he'd grown into one of them – that he was hollow on the inside like Todd and the rest of them had to be by now, or always had been. They were standing outside the little house, and Daryl had his hand draped over his motorcycle like it was the prettiest woman at a dance.

"My lady friend?" Daryl said with a chuckle. "Well, her name's Carol – yeah, Daryl and Carol. Get it out of your system already. It's really not that funny." Jesse hadn't been about to half – it had been a long time since he had found anything very funny at all – but now he cracked a smile.

"What made you fall in love with her?"

"What, we're talking love now? Bells and whistles and hearts and flowers? That's not really the way my mind works." But Daryl was smiling now, too. It was odd, the sort of easiness creeping up between them.

"Well, what made you want to go on this crazy road trip and rescue me to go find her, then?"

"Why do I need a reason to do anything?" Daryl asked, reaching up to pick at his teeth. "She's a good person. She doesn't deserve to be with that waste. Especially not to get kidnapped by him. I think havin' a problem with kidnapping doesn't really make me unique. What d'you think, Jesse? What about your own lady friend? What'd you say her name was?"

The heat flashed into Jesse's cheeks as he whispered, "Andrea."

"Tell me about her."

"She's… We haven't been dating all that long, but…And I mean… we actually broke up. I mean that I broke up with her. But I still care about her."

"Okaaaaay," Daryl drawled.

"I broke up with her to protect her. For this reason. Because what I do… what I did… is so dangerous. I couldn't tell her about it. My… partner… told me to tell her everything. Said I should be honest with her, but I couldn't tell her so I broke it off. Now she's in danger and I can't even do anything to help her."

Daryl groaned.

"Don't start crying. I don't really do touchy-feely. You show you love someone because you'll do anything to protect them, not because you burst into tears every time you see them or every time you think you did something to hurt them. We'll get them safe – but your girl might be in danger, mine definitely this. This fella Ed, he's a real piece of shit and the only time he'll stop is when he's safely in the ground with a bullet in his head."

"Isn't it the same with Jack?" Jesse spoke up. "Isn't that the only way he'll be done for real?"

"Yeah, but I think we scared him away for a good while." Daryl grinned. "Listen, I've got to go have it out with Merle, and then we gotta get going, before they get back."

Daryl departed, and Jesse stayed. He moved closer to the motorcycle; it had some sort of way of exuding Daryl's energy when the man wasn't there. Maybe he had pumped himself inside it as much as he did gas.

Jesse reluctantly rested a hand on the motorcycle, feeling the cool metal brushing up against him. It was silly, he knew, but it made him feel safe. It made him feel that if anyone tried to hurt him again, Daryl would stop them.

If only Daryl had been there, at the compound. Jesse wouldn't have been so frightened. Jesse would have known there was hope.

He didn't know whether to trust this feeling. One day, it had been Mr. White rescuing him out of a chained lab, only to put him right back into another. How was he sure that wouldn't all happen again?

He could hear voices in the house, but not what they were saying. He began to shake; he closed his hand around the motorcycle's seat and held on, whispering a silent prayer that Daryl wouldn't want to get rid of him, that he would continue to protect him. That history wouldn't repeat himself.

He shut his eyes. Where was Mr. White now? Had he been telling the truth when he told Jesse his cancer was back? Would he come looking for him, and if so, to what purpose? Maybe it was best that Jesse and Daryl would keep moving.

Or maybe Mr. White was dead and in the ground. If he was, Jesse didn't know how to feel about that. It would mean they'd never be able to sort it out, not for good; Jesse wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes and say that he had survived despite him, despite him betraying Jesse and selling him to these butchers.

Or had it been Jesse who had betrayed Mr. White first? Maybe this was another thing that he deserved for being the bad guy, for being the wrong one and not giving up.

The door opened, and Jesse's hands flew off the motorcycle. It was a habit he'd learned in the compound – anything he hadn't been specifically told to be doing, he needed to break apart from as soon as those in power got back.

But Daryl wasn't mad, thankfully – he was smiling at Jesse. Jesse felt his cheeks flush, and he didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded.

"Daryl," he said quietly. There must be some kind of good news.

"Jesse," Daryl replied. "Grab your stuff and hop on." He touched the motorcycle. "We're leaving now. Let's bring them home."