Daryl fell in and out of consciousness over the next few hours. He was finally jerked back to the waking world when someone touched his broken leg. He came to with a gasp, immediately trying to get away. But they grabbed his leg tight and he fell still with a hoarse scream of agony.

"You never learn," Pete sighed. "Hold still, dumbass." He pressed a plank of wood on each side of the leg, then tied them in place with sturdy gauze. Daryl was hard-pressed to stay still and quiet, but he still couldn't help but twitch and make small sounds of pain. When Pete finished, the crude cast was secure enough to guide the bone to heal straight.

"Give me your arm," He said. Despite how calm he sounded, Daryl's mind screamed that he was about to be punished. He hesitated.

"Dumb bastard," Pete huffed as he leaned forward and snatched Daryl's broken arm, pulling it toward him. Daryl whimpered but didn't resist. The doctor splinted the broken bone the same as the other. When he finished, he moved to Daryl's side to check his head injuries. He grabbed Daryl's chin and looked at his eyes, searching for signs of a concussion. He said nothing, just continued his work. Next he pressed the bad bruises searching for more broken bones. The injured man focused on keeping his pain silent so he didn't set his captor off. Pete finally finished and stood to leave.

"Don't think broken bones mean you get special treatment," Pete said darkly.

Daryl glanced up and then looked back to the floor. He nodded in understanding.

"Good." With that, he was gone.

~

Even with the water bottle, Daryl was wasting away. No one came down to him except Pete, who just kept his wounds in check and threatened to keep him in line. Daryl got no food or good rest. He just got weaker and weaker as days passed. After a week, he was out of water and he couldn't move at all on his own.

Like today. Pete came down the stairs, calling to Daryl and telling him to sit up. The injured man didn't even open his eyes. Pete kicked his good leg, to no effect other than earning a small grunt. Pete knelt and pulled open one of his patient's eyelids, but the pupil barely contracted. The doctor huffed in annoyance and leaned back.

"Sit up, now."

Daryl's eyes cracked open and his breathing stuttered. He mumbled something inaudible.

"What?" Pete asked, leaning in.

"Can't..." Daryl rasped. It was barely a whisper. "Can't. P-... -lease, please, 'm s-sorry, I can't."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You can. Do it or you'll be punished."

Daryl's breath hitched. "D-don't, don't, please," The words barely escaped as breaths.

The doctor stood and went back up the stairs. "You'll learn to obey."

"Please, please," The broken man never stopped breathing the pleas. "Ah can't, ah w-want ta, but ah can't..."

Moments later, he heard scuffling upstairs and a cry. Then Pete came back downstairs, dragging little Sam along behind him.

"Do it, you piece of shit, or the kid pays."

Daryl watched the man pull the boy along, then throw him to the ground by his feet. Sam was scared, but knew to be quiet. It made Daryl's heart break.

The injured man's fingers twitched, then his hands clenched and released. He started to lift his head, but the movement sent a spike of pain into his already pounding headache and he gasped. His head fell an inch back to the ground.

Pete grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to his feet, twisting his arm behind him. Sam cried out as the increasing pressure made his arm start to hurt.

"Get up now or I break his arm."

"W-wait, 'm tryin'," Daryl said frantically. He held his breath and rolled slowly onto his side, exhaling sharply as pressure was put on his damaged ribs. But he kept going as he heard Sam yelp in pain. Daryl leaned forward on his forearms so he could pull his knees under him to get to a kneeling position. Then he was up on his knees. His head pounded terribly and his vision swam sickeningly.

The hunter swallowed thickly and continued, holding one palm to the ground as he got one foot on the ground. That way he pulled himself up and his other leg got pulled up with the other one.

And, shit, he was standing. He had no idea how he'd done it, the past minute blurring away to leave only pain in his thoughts. He swayed dangerously, but luckily he was next to a wall he could lean on now that he was up. He look up at Sam and nodded to him.

Pete released the boy. "Go back upstairs," He ordered.

Sam didn't move. "But Daryl..."

"GO!" Pete bellowed. Sam went upstairs, looking back at the unsteady, obviously badly hurt, man that had just tried to protect him.

Pete made sure the boy had gone and closed the door before continuing. He turned to face Daryl, who was shaking like a leaf and barely able to stay upright.

"So that's what it takes, huh? I have to threaten someone else?"

Daryl paled and his breath went shallow. No.

"Oh, calm down, you're gonna have a heart attack." Pete walked over and wrapped one arm around him, holding him up from the side. "You're coming upstairs for dinner."

Daryl really almost did faint at that. "D-dinner?"

"Yeah, come on. You've been down here long enough, don't you think?"

Daryl nodded, relieved. Maybe he would make it out of this hellhole.

"You'll stay with us, you'll even have your own room," Pete explained as they headed slowly to the stairs, Daryl hissing when he had to put pressure on his stinted leg. "As long as you behave."

The injured man was growing tired of nodding, but he did so enthusiastically. "Promise."