Between the Thorns
Chapter 41
Since Jean had to move with caution and take the long way around through the Sanctuary to get back to her apartment, by the time she got there Daryl arrived only a few minutes later. The moment he entered the apartment, she could tell something was wrong. He tended to carry his tension in his shoulders. And this was no exception. But this time even his jaw was tight. And Jean was sure he was grinding his teeth. He still hugged the girls, assuring them that everything was fine and the person that was shooting outside was gone. Then he sunk down into a seat at the table and buried his head in his arms.
Like her, LIly and Rose could tell something was wrong. And they began to drift towards the man, intent on comforting him. But Jean stopped them, shaking her head and corralling them towards their bedroom instead. Rose paused in the doorway, glancing back at Daryl with a look of concern.
"I think he needs a minute," Jean whispered, tugging her older daughter into the bedroom. Jean sat on Lily's bed, letting the girls crowd in on either side of her. They snuggled in close, eager for their mother's comforting touch. Jean read to them from Anne of Green Gables until Lily's head started to lull against her shoulder. Rose crossed the small space and climbed into her own bed, waiting patiently for her mother to finish tucking her sister in so she could get her own goodnight kiss. She clung to her mother's hand, her eyes flicking towards the bedroom door.
"Do you think Daryl's okay?," she asked. Jean sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hand over the tiny curls of hair that escaped Rose's braids. Jean smiled, her eyes sad and filled with memory as she reminded her daughter of how her father John used to sometimes need a little time to tinker in the garage when he got home from work.
"Maybe you should take Daryl a beer like you used to do for daddy," Rose suggested. Jean smiled, remembering the smell of fresh wood shavings and beer that always seemed to linger in the part of their garage that her husband converted into a workshop for himself.
"If I had any beer, I would," Jean admitted. She leaned down, wrapping her arms around Rose and giving her a lingering hug. "You like him, huh?" Rose nodded emphatically before snuggling down into her pillow. Jean ran her knuckles over the last bit of baby roundness left in the girl's cheek, her fingers lingering on the fading multicolor bruises. Clicking the light off, she padded quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Daryl was still in the same position she left him in, his head buried in his arms at the table. Jean moved slowly, lifting her hand and resting it gently on his back. Daryl's body jerked slightly in reaction to her touch. But when she slid her hand across his back he leaned into her touch. Jean moved behind his chair, adding her other hand as she started to massage his shoulders. When she started to work her small thumbs into a particularly tight spot, Daryl groaned softly. Jean kept going, her hands moving with years of practice as she slowly released the tension from his muscles. Once his shoulders finally relaxed, she moved her hands up and began to massage his scalp. As she started on her second pass, Daryl lifted his head. He caught her by one slender wrist, pushing his chair back from the table so he could pull her down into his lap.
Daryl's arms wrapped around her, crushing her against his chest. Jean closed her eyes and hugged him back, relieved that her presence seemed to be comforting him. She didn't speak until she felt his hand slide under her shirt, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her bra.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she whispered. Daryl didn't respond verbally. He simply lifted her into his arms and headed down the hall to their room. Using his foot, he snapped the door shut behind them before he set her down on the bed. His touch wasn't rough. But there was an urgency to it as he fumbled with the zipper on her jeans.
Jean adjusted her body, making it easier for him to undress her. Once she was naked, she used her palms to scoot backwards onto the bed before lying back into the pillows. Daryl jerked his own clothes off, adding them to the small pile on the floor where he tossed hers a moment before. He clicked the light off, shrouding them in darkness before he crawled across the bed towards her. Jean reached for him, running her hands over the marred skin of his back as he settled between her thighs. She cried out when Daryl pushed inside her, forcing her insides open. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in hard pants. Jean spread her legs, wrapping them around his waist. The pain that came from being so unexpectedly penetrated by someone so large was slowly giving way to pleasure as he began to move. His hips rolled into hers as his arms slid under her back, fingers digging into her soft flesh. Jean felt his body begin to shake as his movements became more jerky and unintentional. He came with a soft keening moan. And when he collapsed on top of her, she realized her hair was wet with his tears.
"Didn't hurt ya did I?," he asked, rolling off and pulling her to him. The slight shake in his voice pulled at her heartstrings and Jean wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. The only light in the room was the tiny sliver coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. It wasn't enough for Jean to read his facial expressions.
"No," she assured him, running her fingers through the wild tangle of his hair. "You didn't hurt me." She found his lips with hers, partling them gently with her tongue as she kissed him. Finishing the kiss with a soft peck on the side of his mouth, Jean brushed his hair back away from his face.
"Wanna tell me what's wrong?," she asked. Daryl's only response was to pull her tighter against him. The silence seemed to stretch and expand, filling the darkness around them. Until he finally broke it with a low hushed whisper.
"The person shooting outside," he said. "They killed her." Jean sighed, her chest feeling heavy with emotion.
"I'm so sorry. She was one of your people?"
Jean felt the slight nod of Daryl's head before he slid down and buried his face between her breasts.
"Yer my people," Daryl corrected. She felt the tickle of his facial hair against her skin. And then the soft flick of his tongue across her nipples, one after the other. The attention to her sensitive buds made her insides clench, reminding her that the sex they just had was over too quickly for her to find her release. A soft moan escaped from her lips and she twined her fingers into his hair, tugging slightly at the roots.
"I thought we were talking," Jean said, her words coming out in soft breathless pants. If Daryl was trying to distract her from the subject they'd been discussing only a moment before, then it was working. At least for the moment.
Rolling her onto her back, he pushed her thighs apart with his hand. She rolled her hips into his touch, eager to get his thick fingers in the spot where they would feel the best. It only took a few swirls around her clit before she came with a soft whispering sigh. Jean rolled back onto her side, tucking her body back into Daryl's as she let the fog of desire slowly dissipate from her mind.
"I still wanna know why you were upset," Jean said, smiling when she felt his body shiver with a hint of silent laughter.
"She was one of my people," Daryl admitted with a slow exhale. "Sasha. She came here with us from Atlanta. Her brother died on the way here." Jean didn't comment on this. She didn't want to stop Daryl while he was still talking. But she wondered if the woman's brother dying was significant to Daryl because he cared for the man. Or because he lost his own brother not long ago. "Another one of my people was with her. Rosita. She got away. But before she ran she told me the reason they came." Daryl paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Carol's missing."
"Carol? The woman Rose met?," Jean confirmed. Daryl gave an affirmative grunt. "I'm so sorry, I know you were close to her." Up until now, Carol was the only member of Daryl's former group that he ever referred to by name. Jean knew he cared for the woman. They were like family. Daryl was trying to talk her into coming back to the outpost with him. So she would be safe. He wanted Jean to meet her. And now she was gone. Missing pretty much equated to death in this new world.
"If there's anything I can do to help," Jean offered, "...just let me know." Daryl pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he rose from the bed and began to pull the covers back so they could climb under them and go to sleep. Jean was resting her head on his chest, hovering on the verge of sleep when he finally spoke.
"Ya know, I think there is somethin' you could do to help."
