Lupe's eyes blink open slowly. Brightness fills her vision and for a second she really, really regrets consciousness. Her mouth smacks, tacky, trying to form words. Blinking is gritty and every inch of her hurts. She tries to move. Her legs wiggle once and it's a delayed, tired thing. Also painful. She's a bit cold and her arms quiver. Then she feels it. The cool metal shackle around her wrist.
She sits right up. A groan and a gasp fight in her lungs, manifesting as some strangled inhuman noise coming out of her gaping mouth. Lupe stares around and something is strange. She'd never seen this place before. The room is large, clean, almost homey. It has medical supply cabinets lining the walls. But it doesn't look like any infirmary she knows. This one has crown moulding, chic bamboo shades on the windows, and cream walls with tasteful wood accents. It looks lived in and loved.
She tries to rub her head, an ache spreading and shaking through her, but the shackle is there to stop her. Staring down at the gleaming metal, there's an acute disgust in her scowl. She yanks on it hard with a squeal of rage. Lupe huffs and visibly deflates. Rebuilding a slow scowl, she looks around the room again. She spots a woman in the corner, blonde, luxuriously round in so many soft and appealing ways, with glasses sitting on the tip of her nose.
"¡Pinche mierda!" Lupe jumps. A hand is meant to go to her heart, but the metal clanks against the bed rail. Her eyes narrow at the bracelet again. "¡Me cago en tu madre!" she spits, shaking the rail with an uncontrollable outburst of anger. Lupe stops and remembers the woman. She turns back and she's still up against the med cabinet, trying to flatten herself to a singularity.
Lupe's face goes blank. She's unsure what to do here. "Uh, sorry," she croaks.
The blonde huffs out a nervous breath. An airy laugh follows and her voice is sweet, "Th-that's okay! I bet this is all disorienting. Seems like you've been out there for a long time."
Lupe sighs. "How long?" she mutters, waiting for the axe to drop.
The woman looks at her strangely, a smile strained by confusion.
Lupe reflects the look. She glances around again. "Is this the Sanctuary?"
The blonde frowns and kind of snorts. "I mean, sure, I guess." She starts moving, unflattening and taking a few steps forward. "I'm a doctor and you're in my infirmary. I just came in to check on you and arrange a few things. I'm sorry if I scared you."
Lupe looks on disinterestedly and shrugs. Blondie slowly approaches and Lupe gets a better look at her. Lupe's trying not to be a total creep, but the woman is cute. She's got the face of a sprite; pointy, but round, cheery, but fierce. Maybe Negan finally got tired of Carson being such an asshole. Lupe hopes this doctor might be okay.
"What happened to the old doc? He dead now? Fucked up too bad finally?" Lupe's throat is tighter than she wants it to be, her voice squeezing out. She shakes her head and bites her lips shut so hard she tastes blood. She will not cry. Not in front of any of them ever again. Negan may get lucky enough to have her body one more time, but he'll never again have her.
The blonde gives her another weird look with her quirked head. "Uh, you think I can ask you a few questions?"
Gritting her teeth, Lupe mutters, "Yeah, fine." She accepts the doctor's curiosity, but she doesn't like it. Lupe's curious too, she has no idea what is happening. This doesn't seem real. There's a soft glow about the place, like she's in the After portion of a antidepressant commercial. Medication was super, but reality didn't ever look like this.
"Do you know what day it is?" the doctor asks impersonally.
Lupe blinks for a long time. "I dunno, the 15th of Murder in the year of the Undead?"
The blonde snickers. "Alright fair. How about the season?"
Lupe shrugs tiredly. "Approaching the weird mix of summer interrupting fall, maybe winter soon."
The blonde nods. "Your name?"
Lupe bites her lip, something crawls around inside of her, writhing in discomfort. "Do I really have to do this?" her words crumble around themselves. She looks over at the blonde, who truly appears concerned. Lupe almost smiles at her. The doc needs to blot out all that sweetness if she wants to survive this world. "Can't he just get all the suspense over with?" her voice is so tired it shakes. "I'm done with it. All of it. Just tell him I'm awake so he can just finish this…"
"Who?"
The voice is gruff and comes from the archway. It's source has an open door closing behind his back. Lupe zeroes in and everything about him sends her nervous system into overdrive. Her eyes widen and her chest heaves to breathe. Her lips curl back over grit teeth. She doesn't recognize this Savior. He's scraggily and dirty to an almost obscene point. Dark, stringy hair covers half his face and a sparse, pale beard covers the other half. He wears the classic Savior uniform: thick boots, dark jeans, dark shirt, and leather. Though he's got an extra inner layer with his unbuttoned flannel. His personal flare seems to be cutting the arms from all his shirts. Likely because of the size of his biceps, as they stick out in the room like beacons. The classic black leather comes in the form of a vest, resting on his shoulders and looking like it never once comes off. He's got no weapons at his waist, though. Lupe's not sure if that means he's really ignorant, or proves he's confident and a threat.
Lupe doesn't know how long she'd been gone from the Sanctuary. Or what happened for it to become this weird homemaker-hell. No matter how much time passed, she never thought Negan would believe some rookie would be a good choice to guard her. It's basically an insult.
Lupe snorts and looks at the doctor. "Please tell me you've been around longer than this shit-heel. How new is he?" She scoffs and looks at the scraggily white boy with shoulders like the scales of justice. "Did you miss the orientation or something?" She stars at him incredulously. "'Who?'"
The doctor laughs tentatively to cut through the tension. "You don't have to worry about Daryl. He's just here to make sure I don't abscond on my duties and escape to the beach." She smirks over at the greasy one, Daryl.
Lupe's gaze flashes around the room for a bit. Her eyes flicker the most towards Daryl. He just shakes his head with a gruff chuckle for the doc and starts gnawing on his nail. Lupe's head tilts gently and she gets distracted by him. He's almost relaxed. She still can't pick out the bulge of a weapon on him anywhere. That's an advantage.
Lupe looks down at the rectangular metal tray, covered with some non invasive instruments next to her bed. It's in her hand and hurled across the room before she really contemplates what she's doing. But it hits home, right in the center of this Daryl's forehead, braining him with a gong. It echoes through the space as both his body and the tray clatter to the floor.
"Oh shit!" the doctor gasps.
Lupe is already climbing off the bed. "It's alright. All Saviors are fucking scum anyway," she snarls, glaring at Daryl as a heap, not moving an inch. "We're gonna get the fuck out of here. Just let me dislocate my thumb."
"No!" the doctor shouts, hands up to stop Lupe as she grips the digit. She looks up at the doc in confusion.
"'No' what? We have to go!" Lupe almost screams. "We have to get out of here before Negan comes!" Her voice warbles violently saying his name out loud again. It's so bad it shakes the rest of her body into a shiver. The metal cuff on her quivering arm rattles against the bedrail like a buzz. Lupe grips her thumb hard and grits her teeth.
"Don't!" the doctor finally screams and it makes Lupe freeze. "Don't — don't hurt yourself! It's okay." She swallows nervously. "I'm Denise. I'm a doctor, right?" Both Denise and Lupe nod together. Denise frowns. "Who's Negan and what's a Savior?" Her brows wobble, the tension obvious. "Why did you frisbee of death Daryl? Why are you so willing to pop your thumb out of its socket?"
Lupe fully frowns. She slowly straightens up out of her defensive stance and it seems to relax this Denise a bit. She takes in a slow breath, watching the doctor. She's looking right back, carefully considering something. Lupe comes to a quick conclusion. One that worries her severely. These people didn't know who Negan is. They don't know who the Saviors are. Even if one of them dresses like the president of their fan club.
Lupe's voice is small and tentative as it shakes its way out, "You said this was The Sanctuary."
"The Sanctuary?" Denise blinks. "Like as in a title and not general place of refuge?" Lupe doesn't reply. She doesn't want them to have to know what she does. Thankfully, Denise keeps talking. "Our safe zone is called Alexandria. Daryl found you in the woods out while he was hunting with Aaron." She waves her hand casually over to where Daryl remains unconscious, but neither of them are paying him any attention. They're still sizing each other up. Anxiously.
Denise is careful as she continues, "They brought you here because you'd been suffering from exposure, malnutrition, dehydration, and exhaustion. You passed out on the side of the road."
Lupe blinks. She regrets being on the sweet brink of death and missing out. Frowning she continues to stare at Denise. Sweet, but seriously talkative, much like the wives. Something twists in Lupe's gut, an anxious, sad pull that yearns to know if they are okay, if any of them are okay. She misses Arat and Joey. She misses the laundry ladies, and Lozano. They had been so good to Alma. They were good to her too, but she can't think about them anymore. It has to be done with. This ignorance of Negan and his Saviors makes Lupe more devoted to ensuring these people keep it and cherish it. Denise would be an immediate target for him. A hot doctor? Double whammy.
Denise breaks Lupe out of her distracted thoughts. "They thought you might be dead until you tried to kill Daryl..."
Lupe cringes, remembering the hazy shadow that had loomed over her. She thought it was death, coming for her in one way or another. The smell of blood, leather, and decay was in the air, sharp, and poignant. She could remember thinking she was gonna die. An immense guilt festers in her stomach along with all the anxiety.
"The first time at least," Denise snorts at Lupe easily, like it wasn't all that big of a deal. Denise tries to smile at her reassuringly. Lupe's still just struggling to accept that the Saviors don't have her. That Negan isn't about to walk right through that door and take her again. He would be such a monstrous asshole to engineer something like that to trick her. He'd enjoy lulling her into a false sense of safety. Too bad. She doesn't feel safe. She doesn't think she ever will.
Denise sighs and then opens her mouth to say something. Her eyes pop open and her whole body jolts with them. "Oh shit, Daryl!"
Denise scampers over to him and starts to check him out. All of his limbs seem to undamaged by the fall. And since he was leaning against the counter on impact, he didn't really drop straight down. His was more of a slow descent, sliding down the cabinets until his splayed body looked like a crash test dummy after the MythBusters were done with him. Aside from the uncomfortable looking position and the massive goose egg on his forehead, Daryl seems fine. Denise sighs in relief.
"So…" Lupe starts, "He's not a Sav —," she clamps her teeth on her tongue and breathes, "he — he wont hurt us?"
Denise jumps, Lupe stands right next to her, sans handcuffs. While Denise glances at her, she pops her thumb back into place. Denise cringes and instantly forgets the question asked. "You didn't have to hurt yourself."
Lupe almost laughs as she looks at Denise, like it was the strangest thing to say. She shrugs. "Doesn't really even hurt anymore." She rolls her shoulders, trying to shake off the memories of hands that would grab her, hold her down, and clap the cuffs on her.
Denise gives her a sad, compassionate type of look.
Lupe further evades the proffered sentiment. She'd like to steer clear of the entire concept of feelings for the rest of her short miserable life. She frowns down at the Savior-copy. "I didn't kill him, did I?"
"Nah, Daryl's tough." Denise tugs on his legs to get him flat on his back. Lupe rushes back to her bed. Denise rolls Daryl onto his side. She doesn't like to mess with head injuries, and she bets choking on vomit is a miserable way to die. A fluffy white pillow pops into her vision. She looks up and Lupe crouches next to her, holding it out. She shakes it silently and Denise gets the message. Denise smiles up at Lupe as she takes it, then places it underneath Daryl's head.
Once completed, Denise wipes her hands on her jean clad knees and smiles. "That was quite a bit of excitement! How about you sit down for me and we can finish the exam. I'm surprised you're conscious, let alone up and about."
Lupe snorts. "Well, you don't reach the state I was in without learning to manage your exertion," she grumbles, looking at the ground. "Not like anyone starves to death staying in place these days." She blinks and the big, black boots pop out at her. Her chest constricts. She tries not to see him as a Savior. It's haunting, like he's a distorted image in a mirror reflecting her rapist and her sister's killer. Lupe tries for compassion, but the tone is sour, "Is he ok on the floor?"
"Yeaaaaaah!" Denise leans into the word and waves a sure hand as they crouch. "He'll be fine." She smiles. Then she tilts her head, her lips turning into a squiggly down turn. Her eyebrows flow along with her hands, weighing the invisible options. "Maybe he'll be a little pissed when he wakes up." She shrugs. "But Daryl is always a bit pissed." Lupe holds back a smile.
They start to stand when Daryl flinches and groans. Denise immediately leans forward towards him. Lupe skitters away like a cat on ice. Her reaction is faster and more innate, but not graceful. Denise gently tries to rouse Daryl. Lupe's trying to decide if it's worth going for the door.