AN: Aha. So, it's been, what, a month since the last post? Oops. I'm lazy. I hate editing this fic. I've been working on this since October, so, you know. It's kind of one of those things I'm just so ready to get done with that I refuse to do anything with it until Emma forces me to.

Thanks, Emma.


When Dean woke the next morning, Alex was already awake, and she was absentmindedly carding her fingers through his hair. Across from her sat Carl, whose ego seemed to have been stoked by the fact that Alex was talking to him.

"Hey," Dean said, sitting up and stretching. "Have you eaten anything?"

Alex nodded. "Carl brought us food." She pointed towards the tray at the end of the bed, where there was some leftover food.

Dean studied Alex. She was definitely worse for wear, but Dean knew she'd pull through. She already looked better than she did last night.

"You feel any better?" Dean asked, just to verify. "That S.O.B. knocked you up pretty bad."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I'm alive, so I'm good. I wouldn't mind another shower, though." She batted her eyelashes innocently at Dean.

"Maybe after you don't look like one of the undead" he muttered, shaking his head. He hoisted himself to his feet. "You good here on your own? I'm going to see if I can find that doctor guy to check on you."

"Hershal should be with my dad and Daryl," Carl supplied. "They're eating right now."

Dean nodded and ruffled Carl's hair. "Thanks, kid." He spared one last worried look in Alex's direction before leaving.

He found Hershal easily enough, and the old doctor agreed to come back with him to check on Alex. When they got there, Carl had left and Alex was picking at the food left on her plate.

"What's up, doc?" Alex asked, smirking at her own joke.

"How are you feeling today, Alex?" Hershal asked as he began to check the wounds on her head.

"'Bout as good as I look," Alex mumbled underneath her breath.

Alex lay down on the cot as the doctor began to test her ribs. Alex cringed.

"Luckily, your ribs are only cracked, but it's still serious."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked hopefully.

"It means you aren't leaving anytime soon. Three weeks at the earliest."

Alex blanched and swore.

"Thanks, doc, " Dean muttered as Hershal took his leave.

Dean perched on Alex's bed, pulling her legs onto his lap.

"Three weeks, Dean," Alex groaned, staring at the ceiling.

Dean sighed. He didn't want to stay there anymore than she did, but he knew she could barely lift herself up, much less go back on the road.

Dean shook his head. "We'll be fine."

"Well, I know I ain't staying here for three weeks. We should head out tomorrow-I mean, I won't be of any use if we get into trouble, but I have faith you can manage by yourself," Alex said teasingly.

"There is no fucking way we're leaving here tomorrow, sweetcheecks," Dean scoffed. Then; "I'm going to go get some stuff from the Impala if we're going to be staying here."

Alex hated being this vulnerable-it was something she hadn't felt in a while. She replayed the accident over and over again, trying to remember where exactly she went wrong. She never made mistakes.

Alex shifted around trying to find some relief from the stabbing pain she felt in her torso due to her cracked rib. She had just found relief when Daryl strutted through the doors.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to maintain her position.

"How're you feeling?" Daryl asked, sounding more genuine than Alex would have expected.

"Spectacular," Alex deadpanned.

Daryl smirked. "Glad to hear it, you looked like shit when Dean brought you in."

"I'd like to see you look decent after getting the shit kicked outta you," Alex retorted.

"I'm always this good lookin'." Daryl snorted. "Where's the princess at?"

Alex was pleased her nickname had caught on. "He went to go grab some stuff from the car. He should be back in a minute."

Daryl leaned up against the table adjacent to Alex's bed.

"I was gonna see if you guys needed anything. I'm goin' back into town. Apparently he and Rick got into it last night," Daryl continued, not looking at Alex, but rather through the window above her head.

Alex shook her head. "I can't leave him alone for five minutes. What was the fight about?"

"Dunno, but Rick sure wasn't happy 'bout it."

Alex started to reply, but Dean's voice broke through the conversation, and she dropped the subject.

"Hey." Dean nodded at Daryl as he walked in, carrying two duffle bags, a blanket, and one of Alex's backpacks.

"Are we moving in?" Alex teased, trying to hoist herself up.

Deans only response was his classic eye roll.

"I was just gonna see if you wanted anything from town?" Daryl asked, pulling himself from the table and facing Dean.

"We should be alright. Going out by yourself?" Dean asked, unzipping one of the bags.

"Glenn and Carol are coming with me." Daryl readjusted the crossbow on his back as he spoke.

"Alright, see ya."

Daryl nodded at Alex one last time before leaving the room.

"Did you get me something to drink?" Alex asked, watching Dean unpack his bag.

Dean pulled out a bottle of Jack and placed it on her bed. "You're a saint," Alex beamed, reaching for it.

"I don't think saints have been known for letting sick people get drunk," Dean retorted, chuckling.

"Carol told me earlier there was an extra bed I could sleep in, over in D block. I'm going to go get it and bring it in here," Dean continued, sizing up the small room.

"Dean, you don't have to sleep in here. Seriously. We're allowed to have personal space."

Dean ignored her, and a few minutes later came in dragging another cot, placing it directly beside Alex's.

"So is that a 'no' to the personal space?" Alex deadpanned, taking a swig of the whiskey.

Dean ignored her in favor of climbing into his cot and taking the whiskey from her.

"What exactly are we going to do for three weeks?" Alex asked, scooting closer to him.

"Fuck if I know."

It was silent for a moment before Alex asked, "What did you and Rick fight about last night?"

Dean rolled over to look at her.

"Who told you 'bout that?"

"Daryl. He said Rick was pretty pissed off."

Dean rolled back over on his back and exhaled. "He was doing the same shit he was the other night. All this shit about how we can't be trusted and then... I don't know. That guy's just got some serious issues."

Alex didn't want to press the matter, so she remained silent. She felt Rick was somewhat justified in his thinking, but on the other, Dean couldn't have been ready for that kind of talk last night-not with everything that was going on with her, and she'd seen how upset Dean gets when she's in danger.

Dean began to drift off, leaving Alex to lay there with a bottle of Jack as her only companion. She sat up and downed half the bottle, only wincing slightly at the pain.

Alex had just sat down the bottle when Carl walked through the door.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize he was sleeping," Carl muttered, starting to leave the room again, but Alex stopped him.

"Don't mind him, kid. He would have slept through the end of the world if I hadn't been there." Alex patted Dean's back. "What are you up to?"

"I was on gate duty, but Michonne took over for me when Glenn and Carol left for town. Daryl was supposed to go with 'em, but my dad said he needed to talk to him and pulled him aside." Carl smirked at the mention of his father and Daryl, then shrugged. "I decided to come see what y'all are doing."

Alex snorted, gesturing towards Dean's prone form and her empty bottle of Jack. "Obviously nothing interesting."

Carl hesitated, then pulled an old, dirty box of cards from the back pocket of his jeans. "I found these in the library," he said, looking at Alex hopefully. "I thought maybe we could play?"

Alex's face softened. "Sure." She shifted around on the cot, grunting and making faces as she went, until she was sitting cross-legged and upright. She motioned to the foot of the bed.

"Sit," she ordered. "You know how to play Texas Hold 'Em?"

Carl shook his head, easing himself onto the mattress and handing Alex the box of cards.

"I'll teach you, then." She shuffled the cards, then began setting up the game, explaining how it worked as she went. She paused, glancing up at Carl and arching an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you have anything you want to bet with?"

Carl shook his head again, and Alex pursed her lips. "They didn't have any chips or anything, where you found the cards?"

"There's a box of bullets in my bag."

Carl jumped, but Alex hardly paid any attention to Dean as he pushed himself up on his elbows, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "You can use those in place of chips, if you want."

Alex nodded, and Dean swung his legs over the edge of the cot, ruffling through his duffle bag until he found the bullets, which he passed off to Alex before flopping back against the cot.

"You want in?" Alex asked Dean. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'll just watch. If you weren't so damn loud, I could go back to sleep."

Alex stuck her tongue out at him. "Jackass."

"Bitch," Dean retorted. Carl snorted, and Alex grinned at the teenager.

"All right," she said, turning away from Dean. "Let's play."