Part Eight
Jesse could feel the wind blowing through his hair, and he almost let out a very-unmanly squeak at the feel; he was clinging to Daryl's hips and trying to not feel weird about the whole thing. After all, it wasn't like he had never been on a motorcycle before. But those times seemed like worlds away, or as if they had happened to another person. A person who had never been down in the pit, never feared for the life of everyone he ever loved. A person who wasn't riding off into the dark, not sure what he would find there.
They stopped off at a little clearing after they had been riding for several hours.
"We'll set up a camp here tonight," Daryl told him, and Jesse looked at him, confused.
"With what?"
"You don't need much, y'know. We just need to find some firewood and hope it don't decide to rain. If it decides to rain, well, we'll try and find some trees and hope it doesn't decide to lightning."
Jesse decided not to ask about what Daryl's plan was if it decided to lightning, since he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it.
Gathering firewood wasn't as difficult as Jesse had thought it would be. As much as he'd lost energy and weight at the compound, he had gained some kind of strange resolve that seemed to allow him to carry uncomfortable amounts of large objects for long periods of time without giving up. Or maybe that had been the training he'd been going through with Daryl, or just all of the crazy things that he happened in his life over the past two years. Either way, before Jesse knew it, there was a stack of firewood and Daryl had lit it.
"The fire's warmer than I thought it would be," Jesse mused, thinking of that stupid campfire talk back at his rehab center, where the group leader had laid it on him that he'd run over his own damn kid. He had felt so cold then, all the time, after Jane had been gone.
He'd give anything to be that level of desperate again. He hadn't thought that it could get any worse, but as always, life had come along and proved Jesse wrong. At least he had Daryl, though. Daryl seemed like he wouldn't let him down.
He had to cling to that.
He wanted to say more, to say anything at all. To thank him, for taking him under his wing and for caring about him. He had a feeling that Daryl wasn't one to enjoy hearing somebody get all sappy with him, however, and he couldn't afford to end up looking like dead weight. It was hard to forget the things the men at the compound had said about him, the way that they had called him a "pussy"; as much as he hated all of them, he couldn't help but wonder if they might have had a point there.
His throat was raw, bone dry. Maybe there was some water around, maybe he should speak up for that. That could be his excuse, at least, and then maybe he could find a way to say everything he'd been thinking. Thoughts tended to tumble out of Jesse, and it had always gotten him in trouble. He wished he could lock them up safe the way he had tried to long ago, flashing a pair of middle fingers and hiding in baggy clothes so no one could see when he was vulnerable. Now, everyone knew, at least it seemed that way.
"Hey Daryl," he said, at last, and mentally patted himself on the back for managing to say anything at all. "So… Can you tell me about yourself? I mean, I feel like we've spent all this time together, that you… that you saved me, even, but that I don't know much about you at all. I mean, you know some stuff about me, and I know about you and Carol and Sophia, but not about, I mean, about you exactly." He could almost feel his jaw slamming shut, and he regretted the words as soon as they made their way out.
Daryl shook his head.
"You don't want to know about me. There's not really much to tell." He paused and seemed to consider it, then sighed again. "Well, it's been me and Merle for a long while now. We had a dad, once, but he… wasn't much. Don't remember our mom much at all, either. I was pretty young when she… Was always Merle and me."
That made Jesse wonder about Jake, wonder whether he could have kept himself in line more and been there for him. Where was his younger brother now, even? He hadn't seen him in at least two years. The kid would be fourteen, now, and Jesse hadn't seen him…
"You guys must be pretty close, then," Jesse ventured.
Daryl made a murmuring sound.
"Yeah. I mean, we've had our troubles. My childhood was pretty rough when he was around, but it was hell when he wasn't. Nobody in the world cared for me like he did. And even he's a damn mess half of the time. He took off when I was… twelve, maybe? Eventually found him again, haven't been apart since. 'Til now, at least. It's gonna be hard."
"Maybe… Maybe we'll get this all done quick," Jesse said hopefully. He thought of Andrea, of holding her close and burying his face in her hair, of telling her how much he loved her and had missed her, how he would never let her go again.
Unless she had already found someone new… That was something that could happen.
Jesse couldn't pretend it wouldn't hurt… But if she was safe… If she was safe, that would always be enough. There had been too much death, too much pain. He needed her to have a smile, even if it wasn't for him.
Jesse watched the embers burn down, and he looked at Daryl.
"Guess we better call it a night," he said quietly.
