Lupe blinks open her eyes and sees sunlight. She tries to swallow but her mouth is unbearably dry. There's an attempt to sit up that is immediately quashed by the searing pain along her side. That's when she recalls how recently she was in a knife fight. She exhales harsh, letting her lips flap to exert some of the anxious energy she feels because of the pain. There's always so much pain. She feels like she'll never escape it.

"Oh, you're awake," a soft voice murmurs.

Lupe turns her head to the side in her bleary search for higher life forms. "Huh?" She mumbles wiping at her face with the arm that hurts the least.

A blonde woman with glasses hovers at the side of her bed. Lupe blinks the gunk of exhaustion from her eyes. There's the cream walls. The crown molding. The neat medical cabinets blocking the accent walls. She knows she's in the infirmary. She'd only been there a few times. She didn't like hospitals or doctors, and that hadn't changed post-apocalypse. The next surgeon she met was gonna get a goddamn life-ectomy.

"I'm Denise, the other resident doctor in Alexandria," the blonde smiles. She's got a wonderful smile, so Lupe stares up at her in a daze. Denise is fat, soft and curvaceous in all sorts of delightful places. Her face is round and elfin, with pointed features and plump cheeks. Lupe feels a swoon or a wave of nausea. She can't be sure which.

"Hi, Denise. Good to know there's another doctor," Lupe grumbles. "Heard the other guy left a lot to be desired in a practitioner."

Denise snorts. "Yeah, that's an awfully diplomatic way to put it." Lupe tries to move again and Denise goes to stop her. "I don't recommend you get up yet. You have stitches and a lot of them." Lupe looks at her hard. Denise swallows and continues despite the unintentional glare. "Bottom rib to the top of your shoulder. It's over a hundred stitches, but they're not too deep. And you totally saved Reg from being pretty much gutted in entirety. He just had a six-inch gash on the front of his shoulder. That cut would have likely reached hip to collarbone if you didn't do what you did."

"Goddamnit," Lupe whimpers, tears gargling in her throat. The arm opposite her wound comes up and hides half her face as she tries not to cry. She's thankful Reg is okay. She's furious she has another mark on her body that will force her to remember terrible things and terrible men. "Fucking asshole…"

"Yeah," Denise agrees. "I'm really sorry this all happened. You should heal well if you take some time to rest, though."

"Yeah… Rest during the apocalypse. How hard can that be?" Lupe snorts, tone derisive.

"You'll at least be able to go home later today," Denise says with a gentle nudge, prodding Lupe to roll over onto her side. "Just wanna check the stitches a few more times to make sure they stick."

Lupe nods at Denise as she rolls, not quite paying attention until she has to lay her head down on her pillow. Straight across from her, tucked next to some unused medical machines, sits Daryl. He's sleeping in a chair. She swallows hard. "How long has he been there?" She whispers to herself.

"All night," Denise replies. Her fingers press along the long line of stitches down her back and side. "He carried you in here too, damn near kicked my door down." She grins wide. "I think he threatened me when he demanded I stitch you up, but it was kind of hard to understand him. He was shaking like a Chihuahua in a Michigan winter."

Lupe smiles halfway. She can't take her eyes off Daryl sleeping. His face is slack, not pinched up in anger or distrust. He was usually up and at'em before everyone else. Often seen scowling prior to any bad news. She only saw him sleeping one other time. He'd been at her side then too.

She refuses to read into the gestures or their significance to her. He's only being kind. He'd do this kind of thing for anybody. She's not going to fall into another trap. She's not going to believe that someone being nice means they actually care about her. She won't do that to herself again. She lost too much the first time she trusted someone so recklessly. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe those memories away. It was a long time ago when that part of her died a very quick death.

"He was really worried about you," Denise says. Her voice is soft and leaning towards reminiscing. Denise taps Lupe on the shoulder to inform her she's done. "I think you're gonna heal just fine," she continues pointedly, "if you take it easy for at least two weeks."

"Two weeks!?" Lupe blurts, twisting to look at Denise and immediately yelping in pain.

Daryl snorts himself awake in his chair. After wiping his face and blinking his eyes open, he sees Denise and Lupe, still and staring at him. The scowl forms immediately. But he stands up and pulls his chair closer to the bed in silence. He sits and looks up at Denise, expectant.

"She's out for two weeks. Tie her down if you have to." Denise smiles, blithe and sweet, and walks down the hallway toward the other rooms.

Daryl looks over at Lupe. She scowls and grits her teeth. "I'm not laying down for two weeks."

"You sure as hell are," Daryl grumbles, low and scratchy from sleep. "I'll sit on ya if I have to. Get Alma to help me."

Lupe clicks her tongue at Daryl in reproach. "Low blow, dude." She glares up at the ceiling and sighs. Her voice is tinny and small, "We were supposed to start recruiting soon."

Daryl sniffs and grumbles as he adjusts in his chair. "Rick and Deanna put a halt on bringing new people in. We're relegated to hunting and runs for supplies," he bites out. His shoulders shrug up and down, tight and tense like they've got a grudge. He glares at the sheets by her arm. "Probably smarter that way. We gotta make this place secure first."

Lupe bites her lip. "Damn, I was looking forward to that, but it makes sense."

"I was too," he mumbles in response.

She turns her head to look at him because of the snarl in his tone. He is close to glaring at her. She frowns in response to his hard look. "What?"

"You keep scarin' the shit out of me," he growls.

Lupe frowns back. Her tone is acrid, "Like I had a choice in any of this?"

Daryl clicks his teeth shut and sinks in his chair. "Ain't sayin' you did, but ya still scare me. Every time I see you get hurt it's like a kick to the nuts," he spits, jaw clenching in anger. "Can't take much more."

"Well you get two weeks of me confined to a bed, so congrats, you get your wish," she bites back. She turns away from him and glares at the ceiling, rustling in her bed to get comfortable. She realizes being on her back isn't very appealing. Everything scratches against the tender cut like it's getting reopened. She scowls as she rolls over to her side. Her eyes meet Daryl's for a blink. She forces herself to stare at the sheets.

Her folded hands get covered by a large one. It's got badly healed knuckles and it's riddled with callouses, but the touch is soft as a warm exhale on her skin. "What's so wrong with me being concerned about you? Ya think I have a choice in it either?" His voice is so gentle, but the growl rolls through it anyway. "Yer… family."

Lupe fights the cringe she feels forming. She closes her eyes. She tries not to think of how many times someone she's had misguided feelings about has said that. That they considered her to be more like a sister. Relegated into an amorphous family bond category where she was closer to being a plank of wood than a human. She was always left hurt and wanting more. She didn't even want to admit to having feelings about Daryl, but hearing it from him ached worse than her stitches.

"Yer important," Daryl shakes out, fingers twitching over hers. "I don'wanna see you hurt no more."

"Look, that's not something I can promise, bro," she snarks, lashing out. "This world is pain more than anything else."

"Y'ain't wrong," Daryl grumbles, "but ya ain't right neither. There's more than that."

"Enlighten me then," she bites out, laden with a hurt sarcasm. "Better yet, just leave me alone. I should rest."

Daryl fidgets in his chair and pulls his hand away. He doesn't get up just yet. He watches Lupe as she lays on her side, wound up with tension and refusing to look at him. He gets up with a huff and looms over her hospital bed. He bends over her, snaking a hand between her cheek and the pillow, tilting her face towards him.

"Don't gotta save the world," he grumbles, calm. "Too important to always be sacrificing yerself."

"Oh yeah, the community is just teeming with people who want me around. Not like I had a weird faux trial last night judged by a delusional sycophant. Or some knife-wielding dip-shit almost killed me and someone else..." she mumbles, trying to pull her face away from his touch.

Dextrous as he is, he won't let her evade him. "Not to the group..." He snaps. "Not to the community..." His eyes search her face with a desperation she's never seen in him. "Listen, goddamnit..." He growls, jaw rolling and trying to relax the irritation he feels at her fight. He chokes on the breath clawing in his lungs, begging to stay hidden forever.

Daryl presses his forehead against hers and bites out, "Yer too important to me…"

They hold that harrowing position, vulnerable and terrified in equal measures. The touch ignites something that tears through the both of them. It wisps away their long tended, but shoddy defenses.

Lupe gapes up at him, speechless. Before she can even pretend to know how to respond, Daryl rushes away. His hand lingers, fingertips begging not to leave the comfort of her warmth and softness. But he's gone.

And so is she.

Completely lost in confusion.

There's no going back now.