For days, Daryl drifted in and out of the fever haze.
He hallucinated. Sometimes it was Merle at his side telling him what a fucking mess he'd gotten himself into. Other times it was Sophia, a silent presence sitting there holding her cool child's hand on his forehead.
Eventually he began to wake for longer periods of time, realizing that the people at his side were actually Carol, sometimes Lori or Andrea, even Glenn and Rick. Each survivor took a turn checking on him, making sure he had enough water and that the wound in his side was being dressed.
One night he woke, and found it was Andrea at his side.
"How long've I been out?"
His throat was so dry, he could barely force the words out. Andrea understood, and passed him a bottle of water. Daryl pushed himself up on one elbow and drank gratefully, draining half the bottle in one go.
"Five days, about. For a while we weren't sure you'd make it, but Hershel thought your chances were pretty good if you made it all the way through the woods like that."
Dropping the bottle to the ground, Daryl sank down onto his back again with a groan.
"Shit, I wasn't sure I'd make it. Never been bit by a snake before, that shit hurt like a bitch."
Andrea chuckled. "Yeah, I bet. And hey, next time you find yourself in a situation, make sure your dumbass lets us know what kind of bite you got before Shane puts a bullet through your skull."
"Get off my back, woman. I could barely even talk at that point, damn."
"Sure, sure. Get some rest, you dumb redneck. We're all tired of taking care of your lazy ass."
Daryl grinned into the darkness as Andrea punched him companionably on the shoulder. She then stepped out of the tent as Glenn came to take her place at Daryl's side. The two men made small talk for a while before Daryl finally drifted back to sleep, the pain in his side fading with each passing moment.
He'd been pretty lucky after all.