AN: Here we go, another chapter.

"Tomorrow" we get to see Sophia.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl had kept his promise of waiting at Spring Valley until Carol was brought back—even though they didn't bring her back until the early hours of the morning. She was tired and overstimulated from so much so fast. She was sore from movement that her body wasn't entirely used to anymore and from their manipulations for one position or another that she needed to achieve, and the information that she'd been told hadn't fully sank in for her.

Daryl had talked on the phone to Dr. Pitts and it hadn't all sank in for him either, but he was blaming most of it on the need for sleep. Tomorrow he would talk about it more with Sophia, when the young woman came and after she'd met with Dr. Pitts, and tomorrow they would see how much of it Carol actually retained.

Her brain was still healing and her situation was, in all reality, somewhat uncommon. She suffered from amnesia, but it didn't seem to be a total loss of memory and it wasn't restricted, as they might have suspected, to just one era of time or another. From the simple questions she'd been asked, she seemed to have some memories from all different times in her life, but it was clear that it wasn't all there. The nature of her amnesia, itself, was going to have to be studied a little more in depth to fully understand it. She was told, for the time being, that she simply had "partial" amnesia and that they would work with her to recover her memories and to monitor her memory's healing. For now, she seemed content with that. She was, at least, as content as she could be with anything.

They didn't know how much she'd lost, and neither did she. Daryl knew that amnesia patients were usually saddened by the realization of their loss and that frustration, when they tried to remember something they couldn't, followed. Carol wasn't emotionally there yet—and they were going to try to keep her from growing too upset.

Because her brain was healing, and it would continue to heal. There was no reason to believe that she wouldn't make a full recovery with most, if not all, of her memories intact.

Daryl talked to Dr. Pitt while they were transferring Carol back to Spring Valley so that, when she arrived, he was even more caught up on her situation that she was. He helped them get her into a clean bed and got her situated. After they were alone, he checked her over once more to make sure that everything was as it should be.

"How you feeling?" Daryl asked her. Her face might have answered the question for him, but he wanted her to answer him.

She looked at him.

"Great," she responded. Neither her voice nor her facial expression went with the word, and Daryl laughed to himself. This time he didn't have to ask himself if she was being intentionally funny.

"That's good," he said. "Humor is going to get you a long way. Did they give you any water yet? Because you can have it if you still want it."

He'd brought the water just in case and Carol let him know that she wanted it, though she neglected to tell him if she'd already had some. It wouldn't matter. It was water and she would let them know if she wasn't handling it well. Daryl brought the cup to her and she moved to try to take it from him. He let her wrap her hands around his, but he didn't release the cup into her possession entirely. He helped her direct the straw into her mouth.

"Sip," he commanded. "Not too much. Not yet. Gotta take things slow."

"Everything's slow," Carol said when she moved her mouth away from the straw.

"Slow and steady," Daryl responded. "We'll get there, but going too fast? It can sometimes cause a lot more harm than good. Now—listen—I know it's been a big day for you. For me too. I gotta sleep and so do you. I checked. Brandon is your nurse tonight. He'll be coming in and bothering you. Waking you up to check your vitals and all that good stuff—but you gotta try to sleep. And I'll be back in the morning—couple hours, really."

"I'm supposed to sleep?" Carol asked.

"You want me to get you something?" Daryl asked. "Because—you can have something to help you. But—one of the slow things? It's gonna be getting you used to sleeping and waking when everybody else is."

Carol shook her head against her pillow.

"No," she said. "No—I don't want anything to sleep."

Daryl nodded his acceptance of her decision, but he could see that she was battling with something. His eyes were burning, his body was aching, and he wanted desperately to sleep himself, especially knowing that he had full intentions to be back in a few hours to work another day, but he didn't feel like he could leave her. Not yet. He moved to the chair beside her bed, slid it a little closer, and sat down.

"Close your eyes," he said, seeing that she was watching everything he was doing. "Close 'em," he repeated when she didn't do what he'd asked. She sighed and closed her eyes. He reached and touched her hand and she folded her fingers around his hand and squeezed it. Sometimes his job was saving lives with medication that someone needed. Sometimes it was holding hands. "Tomorrow's a big day," Daryl said. "What do you—hope is gonna happen tomorrow?"

"Do I have any control over that?" Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed.

"You got a lot of control over that," Daryl said. "One thing I know that's gonna happen? We're gonna start getting you more control over everything. What do you want to happen tomorrow? With your healing. What do you want to happen medically? Keep your eyes closed."

"I want to drink more than a sip of water," Carol said with a quiet laugh.

"Done," Daryl said. "You keep it down? I'll do you better. You can try—you like Jello?"

"Not a lot," Carol admitted.

"You'll love it," Daryl said. "We make the best Jello you ever had. Almost any flavor you want, but the red's the best. Strawberry I think. Could be cherry. Broth too—good enough to go around telling people about it. Warm and a little salty if you like that. You wanna try some of that?"

"That's all I eat?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"No," he admitted. "You've been a big fan of formula. And you'll get some of that tomorrow, too, but you won't drink it. I'll make sure you get your calories in. What else?"

"Can I get up?" Carol asked.

"You can sit up," Daryl said. "And—we'll go from there. OK? See how you're feeling. You might be a lot more tired than you think you will be."

"From sitting?" Carol asked.

"Uses a lot of muscles to sit without help," Daryl said. "What else you got? Just—what do you want?"

Carol sighed.

"To see Sophia," she said.

"And you will," Daryl said. "She's gonna come as soon as she can tomorrow. So you can—think about what you want to say."

"What do I look like?" Carol asked.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"What do I look like?" Carol asked. "I haven't seen myself. What do I look like? Sophia—is so protective of me. Do I look bad? Is she going to...be scared?"

Daryl leaned up a little and looked at her. Maybe she didn't look like she wanted to look—he couldn't speak for that—but she was pretty. She was prettier now, animated and looking healthier by the moment, than she'd been since she arrived. He'd seen pictures of her, enough of them, from before the accident and from when Sophia was a little girl that he could say that she had changed—but she was still the same person. She was still pretty.

"You look good," Daryl said. "Best I've seen you look in a while. Most of your scars? From the accident and the surgeries? You can't see them because your hair covers them up. Or your gown does. Your face is perfect—just like it's always been. Sophia's gonna love the way you look, no matter what, though. Trust me."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Like you?" She asked. "She'll say I'm perfect if I'm not? She'll think I'm perfect."

Daryl was struck by the comment and his stomach did a little dance. He hesitated a moment, not sure how to answer her. But it seemed, to him, as innocent as any statement that she'd made so far.

"Yeah," he said. "Like me. She's happy to see you awake. That's what matters. But..." he hesitated a moment and took inventory of himself. Rapidly he thought about all he'd have to do the next day and how he might shift his schedule around so that he could give her a little extra attention without neglecting anyone—but most of his patients didn't mind a little change to the routine. "If you're worried? First thing in the morning? I'll wash your hair. We'll get you fixed up for Sophia. Looking the best you can. Fair enough?" Carol turned and looked at him then. "Close your eyes," he reminded her. She ignored him.

"You take care of me," Carol said.

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "That's what I do. Close your eyes." She did, this time. "You want to do that? Get me to wash your hair before you visit with her?"

"Yeah," Carol responded quietly.

"Then you gotta go to sleep," Daryl said. "You gotta let me get some sleep and you gotta get some sleep. Can you do that? Keep your eyes closed and—think about things you wanna say to Sophia until you fall asleep? I'm gonna stay here tonight. In our on-call room. Just down the hall a bit. I'll shower here, but that don't take me long. Brandon will take care of you and if you need me? You just tell him. He'll find me." Daryl stood up, but Carol tightened her grip on his hand, even though she didn't open her eyes. "It's just a few hours," Daryl said, beginning to worry. He could understand her concern—she was overwhelmed and being alone with that? Being alone with everything she might be feeling, could be a lot to face, even if it was for only a few hours. But it was something she had to do. He couldn't stay with her always. "You sure you don't want me to get you something?"

Carol opened her eyes again and shook her head gently. Her expression changed. She'd remained pretty jovial, especially considering her situation, until now.

"I don't want to go to sleep," she said.

"Not tired?" Daryl asked.

"Scared," Carol admitted.

"What are you scared of?" Daryl asked. "You're in good hands with Brandon. I'm right down the hall. There's a lotta people working here, even, that's in between the two of us. You're in really, really good hands."

Carol tightened her grip on his hand again, squeezing it harder than he expected from her.

"What if I go to sleep, and—I just don't wake up again?" Carol asked.

Daryl's stomach flipped. He didn't want to admit that they all worried about that. It was a natural reaction to her waking. There was no medical reason to assume that she might not wake up again—but it didn't mean that the brain, complicated and wonderful as it was, didn't offer that as a possibility. Daryl wasn't going to tell her that, though, because she didn't need to know that he had worries. She didn't need to know that he sometimes had doubts. She just needed to know that he was sure and he was positive—and everything was going to be as fine as he had any power to make it. She didn't need to know that he had relatively little power in the universe.

"You can rest easy," Daryl said. "Your brain? It's been through a lot. But it's healing now. If it weren't? You wouldn't be awake right now and talking to me like nothing happened. You're gonna wake up. More times than you want because Brandon? He's good but I've heard he's not quiet. He'll wake you up for every vitals check and then? Before you know it, I'll be in here waking you up to get you cleaned up. So—don't you worry about waking up. You worry about getting to sleep. OK?"

Carol nodded her head.

"You're sure you don't want something to sleep?" Daryl asked.

She shook her head again.

"I'm fine," she said. "I can do it on my own. Getting back to normal, right? Just—close my eyes and go...go back to sleep."

"That's the idea," Daryl said.

He peeled his hand out of hers, not sure she even realized that she was still holding onto him. He rested her hand on her stomach, like he was used to doing when he put it down for any reason, because he still wasn't used to the idea that she could choose her own position—or that she was really able to interact with him, even.

"Sleep good," Daryl said. "I'll see you in the morning. But—I meant what I said. You need me? You tell him. He'll get me."

Carol nodded.

"Goodnight," she offered. He echoed her wish for a good night. "Thanks," she said. "For—everything."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Don't mention it," Daryl said. "It's just what I do."