A Purpose, My Lifeline
Lori wiped at the dirt that stained Jamie face, careful to avoid the fresh stitches and clean bandage on her forehead. It was possible to tell who she was now with the blood gone from her face. It was also easier to see all the other minor cuts that she had gotten from what Lori assumed were tree branches. Hershel had picked out enough wood and rock from her leg to easily deduce what had happened. Especially since they'd taken one specific horse.
Once she had finished cleaning off her face and neck, knowing that she'd feel better for it when she woke up, Lori picked up the bowl and moved to the kitchen to empty the contents. She was halted, however, when she saw Rick standing in the doorway.
"How is she?"
"Hershel did his best, got everything stitched up. She won't be on her leg for a while because of the long gash there, but she should be just fine with rest," Lori explained. She noticed that Rick was holding a map in his hand and he didn't seem pleased about something, but she didn't want to press and kept quiet. "What about Daryl?"
"He's awake and askin' for her. Hershel just finished up with his side, still needs to bandage up his head, though. I think we should move them into the same room, it should calm her down when she wakes up and she won't go off and try to kill Andrea again."
"Someone should go and talk with Andrea," Lori started, worry marring her features. "And I don't just mean about Jamie threatening her. She shot Daryl today."
"I understand. I think that Dale's the best one to handle that right now," Rick said in response, looking passed Lori to the woman on the bed.
Carol had helped to dress Jamie in a clean shirt and her sweat pants after they had cleaned her up as best they could, a small square bandage covering a portion of her forehead. His eyes found the red line the encircled her neck from where Daryl had said the gun strap had wrapped around her throat when she fell. He would have thought she were dead had it been him, but Daryl refused to give up until he could hold her and check for himself that her heart was no longer beating.
"We should have Daryl moved in here, it'll be easier to move him here than to move her over there," he finally said, looking back up to Lori. The brunette nodded her head in understanding, watching as Rick turned back around and left the room. She remained a moment longer, still holding the bowl in her hands before she left as well and headed off to the kitchen.
Daryl was tired of waiting, tired of people telling him that he needed to stay where he was. He threw the sheets off of his form, wincing at the sharp pain that rocketed up his side, and shuffled his way out of the room. Wearing a clean pair of pants and no shirt, he felt awkward as he stepped out into the hallways of the farmhouse. Scars from cuts, burns and various other ailments that he had sustained over the years covered the entire expanse of his torso, some large but other barely visible. He'd never been so exposed to anyone but Jamie before; it was unsettling to know that his secrets were bared; even if no one was around.
Rick had told him where Jamie had been treated when they got back and immediately began shuffling down the hallway toward her room, keeping an ear out for anyone nearby. He could hear female voices carrying from another room, the kitchen most likely with the sounds of dishes accompanying them, and made sure that they didn't grow any closer.
His side throbbed as he walked, but he refused to stop until he got to her room. The door was cracked open the slightest bit, letting him nudge it gently to let the heavy wood open the remainder of the way. Jamie lay to one side of the bed, the sheets only pulled over half of her body. Her left leg was out of the covers, her sweatpants rolled up to just above the stitches along her knee and thigh. He was relieved to see the dirt had been washed off of most of her.
Closing her door behind him, he limped his way over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool to the touch when he slipped under them, moving over to Jamie's side. He took her hand from her side and lifted it up so that he could keep a hold on her somehow as he rested beside her. He had seen the cuts and scratches along her torso from the loss of her shirt and he didn't want to take the chance of aggravating any of them.
She exhaled loudly suddenly, her hand tightening around Daryl's before she fell still again and resumed her peaceful slumber. For the first time since she and Daryl had entered a physical relationship, Daryl was afraid to touch her. Her entire body was riddled with cuts, bruises and stitched lacerations. For the first time since he had met her, he was truly afraid he was going to hurt her.
"I'm not a china doll."
Daryl's eyes snapped up toward her face at the sound of her voice, raw and raspy from the abuse of her gun strap. Her eyes were just barely cracked, dark shadows beneath them to show the fatigue she felt, and she was looking down at him.
"Yer hurt," he replied quietly, his hand gently squeezing the one that he was holding.
She closed her eyes for a moment, revelling in the feel of his hand holding hers, before she slipped it from his grasp to lift her arm up and place her hand gently on the side of his face, her tired digits fumbling to take purchase on something. She eventually gripped his hair loosely, leaning her head down on his but was still careful of a fresh bruise forming on her brow.
"Hold me, Daryl," she demanded weakly, her fingers knotting in his short strands. Desperate.
Slowly, carefully, he moved his arm to rest over her covered midsection, moving to rest his cheek on her collarbone. Her arm looped around his neck in response, keeping him close to her as she silently held him in return. She soon drifted back off to sleep, the drugs that had been given to her letting her sleep away the pain and fall into dreams of the past—of her once peaceful life.
Rick was the one to first take notice of Daryl's sudden disappearance from the room that Hershel had let him use, and it didn't take a genius to know where to find him. He slipped down the hallway silently, listening to the sounds of the others talking as they set the tables up for dinner, and cracked open the door to Jamie's room.
His heart went out to the redneck that lay on the bed beside Jamie, knowing that it was hard for the both of them. Jamie was welcomed with open arms, while Daryl was still looked upon with hatred and disgust for who he was and who his brother was. Even if Merle was gone, and Daryl had never been as terrible as Merle, they still made that connection between the two. If they were brothers, they had to be alike. Jamie's stories had touched some of them, hearing about the soft side of Daryl, but she refused to open up to everyone for Daryl's sake. The blonde haired male might kill Shane if the ex-cop ever caught wind of Daryl doing something considerate or gentle.
They loved one another more than anything, that was easy to see, but the others didn't seem to understand. They didn't believe that was enough.
Rick looked on at the couple at that moment, the way that Jamie's fingers were softly tangled in Daryl's hair—keeping his head against her shoulder—and his arm wrapped around her waist. He held her so tenderly; as though he were afraid she would shatter in his hands if he held on too tightly. Rick smiled faintly, thinking back to what she had told him the first night that they had met.
"This was his," she had mumbled softly as she tugged on the long sleeved, distinctly male shirt that she had pulled on. "One of the very few long sleeved shirts that he actually owned."
He could understand that completely, now that he had met Daryl. He hardly ever saw that man with a long sleeved shirt. That morning had been the first time, and when he got back it was in shambles. Destroyed. He thought back to the look on her face; sadness, loneliness and love. She had wanted Daryl back and now that he was with her again, the true nightmare began.
Perhaps it was easier to walk around with a purpose, striving to survive so that one can meet their goal; so that Jamie could be with Daryl again. Perhaps it was easier, still, to never reach that goal. Not knowing that he was alive gave her a purpose, and a peace with the fact that she would never know if he was dead or not. However, now that they were together again they could see each other's pain; they could even watch the other die if the situation ever arose. It may have just been easier to never know if he was alive or not.
Daryl woke up hours later, feeling hot in the humid air with a warm body pressed against his front. The room still held the faint light of sunset, just barely, and he could faintly make out Jamie's face in the darkness that was closing in. She almost looked completely normal in the dim light, any small marks on her face nearly invisible—only the thick white bandage that wrapped around her forehead gave away that something was amiss.
"You're staring," she mumbled suddenly, taking him by silent surprise. A grin rose up onto his face then, and he raised an eyebrow even though she could not see it.
"You love it."
"Bite me, babe."
"Sorry, can't. God might strike me down, Angel."
She couldn't help but to laugh at that, opening tired eyes to look up at him. He was silhouetted against the window, hardly visible to her tired eyes. His hair was sticking up around the bandage on his forehead and everywhere else from his sleep—a faint itching on her shoulder told her that his goatee had been scratching against her skin there.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked after she had calmed down, moving to rest her temple against his shoulder.
"Like a very sore, bruised rock. You?"
"Like a slightly less sore, bruised rock."
Jamie grinned in amusement before leaning toward him to press a kiss against his jawbone, feeling the overgrowth of stubble that hadn't been taken care of in a couple of days. She didn't mind, though, it was a familiar feeling and she didn't care about the prickle. A sudden knock sounded from the door, the softness of it barely even heard.
Carol's head soon poked around the door, seeing that both Jamie and Daryl were awake and looking toward her and a smile broke out on her lips. She stepped further into the room and allowed them to see that she was carrying a tray with her, holding two plates and two glasses on it. Jamie wasn't sure whether she was relieved to see the food or not, but she was relieved to see that Carol was smiling.
"I brought the both of you some dinner. Hershel said to keep it light for now, so it's just a little bit. How are you two feeling?"
"It's unanimous, we're sore and bruised," Jamie answered in a tired, but light tone. Carol smiled softly, her sympathy clear on her face. "How are you?" she cautioned to ask after a heartbeat pause, the smile disappearing just slightly from Carol's face.
"I...I really wanted to thank you, both of you. You've been very kind and helpful to me, Jamie. And Daryl, you've done more for my little girl than her daddy did her whole life. Thank you both," she whispered softly, smiling to them each in turn. Jamie wanted to say something, she wanted to comfort the other woman, but Carol disappeared from the room just as fast as she appeared, leaving them alone again.
"That thank you just makes me feel worse about not finding her," Jamie admitted in hushed tones, looking over to Daryl. Carol had turned on the lamp beside the bed and illuminated the room, allowing the two to see each other clearly for the first time since they fell off the horse. There was no longer blood and dirt covering them, hiding what they looked like. Jamie still felt filthy, but she knew that a shower was out of the question.
Daryl didn't say anything further on the matter, pulling himself up with some trouble until he was resting back against the headboard and was able to more easily reach over to the side table. Before trying to take the food he carefully assisted Jamie wish rising up as well, sitting with her back against his left side but still being careful of the arrow injury on his side.
"Do you remember," she started softly, panting at the exertion of pulling her tired body up, "when I refused to eat after my dad had died and you decided that the best thing to do was force feed me?"
Daryl grumbled as he looked down at his hand where there was a clean scar along the side of his thumb, "Damn near took my finger off." Jamie couldn't stop herself from laughing faintly as she looked at him over her shoulder, her hand lifting to run her thumb along the scar gently.
"This kind of reminds me of that."
Daryl looked at her incredulously for a moment, "No fuckin' way. I ain't tryin' that shit again; you don't want to eat: starve."
Jamie laughed, and it felt great. Daryl didn't have to try and understand why she was suddenly leaning against him as she tried to hold in her laughter, causing her sides to split in pain but in such a pleasant way. She was laughing away her pain and her grief, she was pushing aside all that had hurt her in the one way that she could. Memories. Thinking back to the things that she had overcome in the past always helped her to overcome the hardships of the present. All her life she had done that, her parents had always been proud, and now Daryl was proud.
She didn't just take things with a poker face; she experienced it, felt it, wrapped herself up with it and then dealt with it. There was no hiding things away, storing her pain up until a dam broke. She was harder to crack than anyone else he knew, because she never allowed herself to be worn down. With every hardship, her exterior grew stronger and more resilient and built itself up faster and faster with each blow.
I know that a lot of people wanted Jamie to be there when Dale told Andre that they had all wanted to shoot Daryl at some point, and I really wanted her to hear that, too, because that would have been one fun scene to write. However, she's unconscious and bedridden so I don't think that would be very believable if suddenly; oh, she's walking around again. I do hope that everyone's enjoying the marathon weekend, I sure am (as you all can tell! Second update!).
Please review, much loved if you do!
Chapter 27 – Chain Link
"However," Jamie added on as she held up her hand with her index finger up in a 'one moment' signal.
Andrea looked hesitant. "Yes?"
"Let's make a deal. You agree to never touch or aim a gun at anything living or un-living until you've actually learned how to shoot and I will hold nothing against you and act like it never happened, alright?"
Andrea let out a breath that she had not realized she was holding, nodding her head and taking Jamie's hand to shake it, sealing the deal between them. That was not what she had been expecting her to say, but she was as hell was not going to complain about it.