Scraping By, Chapter 15: Heart to Heart
Title: Scraping By
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 15: Heart to Heart
Daryl woke up in the middle of the night from the sensation of a dog gingerly tugging on his hand with its mouth. Zeke refused to let him go and once Daryl was on his feet he led him to the room Whitney was sleeping in.
She was crying in her sleep.
Daryl impatiently shook his hand out of Zeke's mouth and carefully touched Whitney's shoulder. The warmth of his palm on her skin snapped her out of whatever nightmare she was having and Daryl found himself pinned in place by her light grey eyes. She looked younger and terrified in the moonlight.
"Your stupid dog dragged me in here," he said.
"Oh."
"You alright?"
Whitney relaxed a little and leaned into his touch. "Bad dream. Combination of narcotics and memories."
Daryl let go of her and scratched his shoulder. "Same one?" he asked.
Whitney sat up on her elbows and let her eyes travel across his bared skin. He was only in his jeans and his hair was sticking up on one side. The low light offered little for her eyes to focus on, but she could see that he had several tattoos amidst the scars on his chest and back. There was a tattoo directly over his heart of a word Whitney couldn't make out that was broken through with a paling scar that ran from his right shoulder to his left armpit. Sheepishly, Whitney averted her eyes when she saw how he was watching her look at him and she looked down at her hands.
She clenched her fists and watched her own scars move with the gesture. There was a deep one on the meaty part of her left thumb that dented the line of her hand. She'd been forced to stitch it closed and had been shaking so much from the adrenaline and painkillers that the wound healed crooked.
Looking at her hand, Whitney realized she hadn't answered Daryl and she winced. "Sorry. It was a different dream. We were all at my little house and… Well, my leg slowed us down and I ended up getting you and Andrea killed."
Daryl didn't really know what to say to something like that, so he changed the subject. "So, uh," he cleared his throat and sat sideways by her feet, "you got any tattoos?"
She seemed glad for the jump in topics and nodded. "I have a lotus blossom on my right thigh and a cross between my shoulders. I was planning on getting another because-"
Daryl smiled, knowing full well what she was going to say next. "There's always 'one more,' ain't there?"
Whitney smiled right back. "Yeah."
He held his right hand out for her to inspect, "I did this one myself. Still remember how to do it, too."
She curled her fingers around his and he could feel the beat of her heart in her thumb. It was racing, but he wasn't sure if she was still freaked out about her nightmare or just as nervous around him as he was with her. While he was distracted, she moved her free hand to touch the tattoo and scar above his heart. Up close, Whitney could see that it used to say "Normal" in flowing script. The scar broke the word diagonally.
"What happened here?" she whispered.
He flinched and made a move to get away from her and the situation, but Whitney tightened her grip on his hand and she sat up a bit more to lean on his bare arm. "You hide so much," she whispered. "You don't need to."
Daryl slowly relaxed through the feel of her skin against his. "It's a habit," he excused.
She lowered her eyes. "Daryl, that's really sad."
His eyebrows drew together. "No one asked you to care."
"You're right. I did that all on my lonesome because I've gotten kinda attached to you, Daryl Dixon."
Daryl had no idea how to take this news and he absently played with her fingers. "I ain't one for openin' up, Whit."
"Then what's keeping this," she gently poked his forehead, "from letting this," she dropped her hand a ways and dragged her fingertips over his heart, "open up?"
He was silent for a long time and Whitney resigned herself to waiting until a later date to ask him again. It was such a shock when he started speaking that she jumped a little.
"I was seven the first time my old man put me in the hospital. It weren't the first time he beat the shit outta me, but it was bad enough that time 'cause he beat me with my momma's curling iron and she thought he killed me. Merle was just outta juvie when it happened and got sent right back for assault when he used a bedpan to knock the old man out. Pop had been handin' out a whoopin' every chance he got and was right back at it a few weeks later.
"Soon as he saw me and Momma talkin' with the church deacon one Sunday he really lost it," Daryl paused and scratched the side of his nose. His hands kept moving around without aim until Whitney curled an arm around his back and she pulled his head against her chest. Together, they leaned back against the mattress and he wedged his left arm between the back of her neck and the pillow top.
"He waited 'til we finished supper. Said he was sick to the teeth of seein' my face and not seein' a bit of his own self in me. Pointed at Momma and said the deacon was the one with the same nose and chin I had. Same hair. Same mouth."
Daryl pressed his ear to Whitney's breastbone and listened to her heartbeat speed up. He never told anyone other than Jenny about the night his mother died.
"He broke her neck."
Whitney slid her hands against his scalp and dragged her fingers through his hair. She didn't say a word because she wasn't sure how to respond.
"After he got locked up, I lived with Merle fer a year and a half 'fore social services got their heads outta their asses and realized there wasn't no one 'responsible' lookin' after me. I got placed with my uncle and Merle didn't take it too well. Ended up back in juvie a week later. When he got out again, he didn't like me hangin' out so much with cousin Jenny. He eased up when she took me to get my first tattoo, but a couple a' years later he saw this one," Daryl's hand accidentally slid against Whitney's waist as he gestured to the word inked on his chest.
"Said 'normal' didn't belong nowhere near a Dixon and I was a useless pussy fer gettin' it tattooed over my heart. He grabbed my huntin' knife and cut me."
His voice had gone hoarse halfway through his recollection.
"I ain't told that to nobody," he whispered.
Whitney carefully moved her arms around his shoulders and pressed her fingertips against the scar again. The touch jarred Daryl out of his memories and he carefully moved his head to look her in the eyes. The pity he'd been fearing was not in her expression. She was simply listening to him speak and offering contact freely. He could hear her heartbeat speed up significantly.
"How'd you end up workin' with your cousin?" she asked quietly. When his lips turned up at the corners in a blink-and-you-miss-it smile, Whitney tightened her grip on his arm.
"When I was workin' on my uncle's ranch breakin' horses 'stead of gettin' my high school diploma. Jenny was draggin' my ass out to Dublin to hang out with her while she cooked for rich assholes," he smiled again and propped his chin on Whitney's breastbone. He was heavy, but she didn't complain.
"When I started workin' in that place, cookin' filled all the time I used to spend up here," he carelessly gestured at his own forehead and started chewing his lower lip.
Every time he thought about Jenny, the circumstances surrounding that last time he saw her would fill his head until all he could remember of his cousin-his best friend-was her blood-filled mouth and the color of her guts.
Whitney could barely hear him when he spoke again.
"Jenny begged me to kill her. They were rippin' through her and she saw me walk in, so she begged me to end it. I… I-"
Whitney shushed him and carefully shifted her body until she had him cocooned between her and the wall that the bed was shoved up against.
The memories slowed and Daryl abruptly stopped talking. He listened to Whitney's heartbeat until he drifted off and fell asleep.
Tears in her eyes, Whitney wove the fingers of her hand through his hair and held his head as he slept.
Chapter 14: Off Kilter | Chapter 16: Revelation
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 15: Heart to Heart
Daryl woke up in the middle of the night from the sensation of a dog gingerly tugging on his hand with its mouth. Zeke refused to let him go and once Daryl was on his feet he led him to the room Whitney was sleeping in.
She was crying in her sleep.
Daryl impatiently shook his hand out of Zeke's mouth and carefully touched Whitney's shoulder. The warmth of his palm on her skin snapped her out of whatever nightmare she was having and Daryl found himself pinned in place by her light grey eyes. She looked younger and terrified in the moonlight.
"Your stupid dog dragged me in here," he said.
"Oh."
"You alright?"
Whitney relaxed a little and leaned into his touch. "Bad dream. Combination of narcotics and memories."
Daryl let go of her and scratched his shoulder. "Same one?" he asked.
Whitney sat up on her elbows and let her eyes travel across his bared skin. He was only in his jeans and his hair was sticking up on one side. The low light offered little for her eyes to focus on, but she could see that he had several tattoos amidst the scars on his chest and back. There was a tattoo directly over his heart of a word Whitney couldn't make out that was broken through with a paling scar that ran from his right shoulder to his left armpit. Sheepishly, Whitney averted her eyes when she saw how he was watching her look at him and she looked down at her hands.
She clenched her fists and watched her own scars move with the gesture. There was a deep one on the meaty part of her left thumb that dented the line of her hand. She'd been forced to stitch it closed and had been shaking so much from the adrenaline and painkillers that the wound healed crooked.
Looking at her hand, Whitney realized she hadn't answered Daryl and she winced. "Sorry. It was a different dream. We were all at my little house and… Well, my leg slowed us down and I ended up getting you and Andrea killed."
Daryl didn't really know what to say to something like that, so he changed the subject. "So, uh," he cleared his throat and sat sideways by her feet, "you got any tattoos?"
She seemed glad for the jump in topics and nodded. "I have a lotus blossom on my right thigh and a cross between my shoulders. I was planning on getting another because-"
Daryl smiled, knowing full well what she was going to say next. "There's always 'one more,' ain't there?"
Whitney smiled right back. "Yeah."
He held his right hand out for her to inspect, "I did this one myself. Still remember how to do it, too."
She curled her fingers around his and he could feel the beat of her heart in her thumb. It was racing, but he wasn't sure if she was still freaked out about her nightmare or just as nervous around him as he was with her. While he was distracted, she moved her free hand to touch the tattoo and scar above his heart. Up close, Whitney could see that it used to say "Normal" in flowing script. The scar broke the word diagonally.
"What happened here?" she whispered.
He flinched and made a move to get away from her and the situation, but Whitney tightened her grip on his hand and she sat up a bit more to lean on his bare arm. "You hide so much," she whispered. "You don't need to."
Daryl slowly relaxed through the feel of her skin against his. "It's a habit," he excused.
She lowered her eyes. "Daryl, that's really sad."
His eyebrows drew together. "No one asked you to care."
"You're right. I did that all on my lonesome because I've gotten kinda attached to you, Daryl Dixon."
Daryl had no idea how to take this news and he absently played with her fingers. "I ain't one for openin' up, Whit."
"Then what's keeping this," she gently poked his forehead, "from letting this," she dropped her hand a ways and dragged her fingertips over his heart, "open up?"
He was silent for a long time and Whitney resigned herself to waiting until a later date to ask him again. It was such a shock when he started speaking that she jumped a little.
"I was seven the first time my old man put me in the hospital. It weren't the first time he beat the shit outta me, but it was bad enough that time 'cause he beat me with my momma's curling iron and she thought he killed me. Merle was just outta juvie when it happened and got sent right back for assault when he used a bedpan to knock the old man out. Pop had been handin' out a whoopin' every chance he got and was right back at it a few weeks later.
"Soon as he saw me and Momma talkin' with the church deacon one Sunday he really lost it," Daryl paused and scratched the side of his nose. His hands kept moving around without aim until Whitney curled an arm around his back and she pulled his head against her chest. Together, they leaned back against the mattress and he wedged his left arm between the back of her neck and the pillow top.
"He waited 'til we finished supper. Said he was sick to the teeth of seein' my face and not seein' a bit of his own self in me. Pointed at Momma and said the deacon was the one with the same nose and chin I had. Same hair. Same mouth."
Daryl pressed his ear to Whitney's breastbone and listened to her heartbeat speed up. He never told anyone other than Jenny about the night his mother died.
"He broke her neck."
Whitney slid her hands against his scalp and dragged her fingers through his hair. She didn't say a word because she wasn't sure how to respond.
"After he got locked up, I lived with Merle fer a year and a half 'fore social services got their heads outta their asses and realized there wasn't no one 'responsible' lookin' after me. I got placed with my uncle and Merle didn't take it too well. Ended up back in juvie a week later. When he got out again, he didn't like me hangin' out so much with cousin Jenny. He eased up when she took me to get my first tattoo, but a couple a' years later he saw this one," Daryl's hand accidentally slid against Whitney's waist as he gestured to the word inked on his chest.
"Said 'normal' didn't belong nowhere near a Dixon and I was a useless pussy fer gettin' it tattooed over my heart. He grabbed my huntin' knife and cut me."
His voice had gone hoarse halfway through his recollection.
"I ain't told that to nobody," he whispered.
Whitney carefully moved her arms around his shoulders and pressed her fingertips against the scar again. The touch jarred Daryl out of his memories and he carefully moved his head to look her in the eyes. The pity he'd been fearing was not in her expression. She was simply listening to him speak and offering contact freely. He could hear her heartbeat speed up significantly.
"How'd you end up workin' with your cousin?" she asked quietly. When his lips turned up at the corners in a blink-and-you-miss-it smile, Whitney tightened her grip on his arm.
"When I was workin' on my uncle's ranch breakin' horses 'stead of gettin' my high school diploma. Jenny was draggin' my ass out to Dublin to hang out with her while she cooked for rich assholes," he smiled again and propped his chin on Whitney's breastbone. He was heavy, but she didn't complain.
"When I started workin' in that place, cookin' filled all the time I used to spend up here," he carelessly gestured at his own forehead and started chewing his lower lip.
Every time he thought about Jenny, the circumstances surrounding that last time he saw her would fill his head until all he could remember of his cousin-his best friend-was her blood-filled mouth and the color of her guts.
Whitney could barely hear him when he spoke again.
"Jenny begged me to kill her. They were rippin' through her and she saw me walk in, so she begged me to end it. I… I-"
Whitney shushed him and carefully shifted her body until she had him cocooned between her and the wall that the bed was shoved up against.
The memories slowed and Daryl abruptly stopped talking. He listened to Whitney's heartbeat until he drifted off and fell asleep.
Tears in her eyes, Whitney wove the fingers of her hand through his hair and held his head as he slept.
Chapter 14: Off Kilter | Chapter 16: Revelation