I felt Daryl more than heard or saw him. He stayed a slight distance away and walked behind me. I could feel the warmth of him, even inside the warmth of the hallway. His light footsteps told me more about him than his words would. He was clearly used to stalking prey. A hunter then. Another notch in the belt of Negan's longing for him.

I waited until we reached the door of my rooms to turn to face him. "Please know that I mean you no harm, Mr. Dixon." I opened the door and stood back to allow him to walk ahead.

He entered the room and I felt him stiffen. Clearly it was a large bedroom, but it also held a sofa, chairs, a table, even a small kitchen equipped with a mini fridge and small cooktop. My apartment, I insisted on calling it, was also overloaded with books. They were on the table, stacked on the floor, and if he was surprised by this, he'd be shocked in my bathroom.

I watched him take stock of everything, hoping against hope he wouldn't do something stupid like try to harm me or take me hostage. He had a wild element about him, one slightly different than the children I usually dealt with, this man was clearly dangerous. I waited patiently until we heard a knock on the door I was leaning against, and watched him turn incredibly fast to see the threat.

"Whoa, it's OK, Mr. Dixon." I said, opening the door and taking the offered change of clothes with a slight smile at the "wife" who'd delivered them. "It's just your clothes, well the new ones, anyway." I showed them to him- a soft pair of sweats and some socks. "I said we'd get you cleaned up, and we will. If you'd like," I started, walking slowly toward him. "We can even have your clothes laundered, so you'll be more comfortable?"

He stiffened again as I came closer. "Daryl." He ground out, looking at me like I may strike him. I nearly laughed at the thought. Me, barely five foot tall, taking down a man almost a foot taller than me and built like a brick wall. Sure thing.

"Daryl." I said, nodding with a smile. "If you want, I can show you to the bathroom?"

He nodded at me, his hair still hanging in his face. I handed him the clothes I'd asked for and moved past him slowly. Walking to a sliding door built into the wall next to my closet, I slid it open to reveal an equally luxurious bathroom. A huge bathtub dominated the space, but I also had a walk-in shower.

"There are towels in the cabinet between the tub and shower. Soap is in the top right hand drawer of the sink. Shampoo is in the shower. Feel free to take either a bath or shower. Relax, please, Daryl." I said, stepping back so he could enter the room. "You can close the door, and don't feel bad if you knock over a stack of books, it happens to me all the time."

I watched as he took in this room with the same careful scrutiny as the living portion. I knew he'd find nothing that could be easily used to harm himself or me in the room. And as there were no windows, he couldn't escape. He was a hunter though, so I knew he'd at least try to search for something. He slid the door closed behind himself, and I sat down on my bed.

Dear God, I wondered, what had I agreed to?

The water finally cut off about a half an hour later. He was clearly not used to having an ample supply of hot water and the luxury of safety to take advantage of it. I waited for him, having picked up the book I'd tossed aside to rush to Negan's side earlier. Settled against the headboard, with my pillows stacked behind me, I paid little attention to the noises coming from inside the bathroom. Drying, dressing, and then opening the sliding door, I looked up to see him completely clean and standing in the shapeless sweats. He was clutching his dirty clothes in his hand and I smiled.

"Would you like me to put them outside to be laundered?" I asked, looking at his clutch of clothes. "I have some of my own, and if I drop them outside the door in my basket, they'll be done by this time tomorrow."

He nodded, still quiet, and slightly jumpy. I stood up and grabbed the basket I kept my dirty laundry in, holding it out, I let him put his own inside. Smiling gently to show him that I was still not a threat, I walked to the door and opened it. Outside stood one of Negan's men, a nameless grunt, and I glared at him. Clearly Negan didn't trust Daryl to NOT try to harm me, and now I was under guard. Fuck.

I could feel the tension in Daryl as I turned to face him. "Sorry, Negan can be a bit of a worrier." I was smiling still, but I could feel the cracks in my facade dropping. "You won't hurt me, will you, Daryl?"

His eyes were calculating, trying to decide the game, no doubt. Raising an eyebrow, I urged him to just agree with me so the minion would feel at ease. He finally nodded, a small concession, I knew. I gave a nervous smile to the guard and closed the door in his face after handing him the basket.

"Make sure that gets taken care of tonight." I threw at the man as the door was closing. I knew that wasn't his job, to attend my errands, but I couldn't give a shit at the moment. He had a walkie, I was sure, so he wouldn't actually have to leave the hallway.

I turned back to Daryl. And looked around my room trying to decide what to do now. Since this was the first time I was in charge of a recruit, I felt a little baffled. "Have you eaten?" I asked, my eyes landing on my small kitchenette. I carefully moved past him to the mini fridge. "I keep snacks here, so I don't have to mingle much with the rest of Negan's people." I hoped he didn't hear the full revulsion I felt at the people who populated The Sanctuary. Not the ones Negan offered safety to, but to his sycophantic Saviors.

I opened the small door and gave him a list of the offerings. Then noticed the small bowl of fruit I kept filled on top. "Unless," I held up a perfect red apple, "you'd prefer fresh fruit?"

He snorted, and I gave him a confused look. "Look like Eve temptin' Adam." I smiled at his joke. At a time like this, even I felt a small victory. He winced, and cupped a hand over his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" I rushed forward, not careful, but fully worried. "What happened to you before you got here?"

He held still again, as I pulled down the shoulder of his very loose sweatshirt. I grimaced when I saw the bullet wound. "Who did this?" I asked, carefully examining the hole. "Damn it, I'll have his head, whichever idiot did this."

"His head?" Daryl's voice was strained as I gently probed the skin around the rough looking wound. "You really are a Queen, huh?" Another joke. Honestly, he must be feeling delirious.

"Not really into beheading, but I'm feeling pretty pissed that no one told me you'd been hurt." I walked back to the door after shooting him a soft look. "Give me one second to call for the doctor."

I opened the door and felt the urge to hit the moron waiting. I ordered him to send for the doctor and to make sure the man knew it was for a gunshot wound. I didn't want to have to wait more than necessary for Daryl to be taken care of, and if this messenger boy was as substandard as the first the doctor would have to make multiple trips. Waiting while he called in the request, I was silent until I heard the confirmation that Dr. Carlson would be up immediately. Shutting the door again, I looked back at Daryl.

He was still standing in the middle of the room. He wasn't swaying or even showing any evidence of his wound, having pulled up the sweatshirt to cover it again. I would have rolled my eyes at his bravado, but I realized that if I looked into those blue eyes, I could discern his pain.

"Sit, please." I said, moving to the sofa. "Please, Daryl, the doctor will be up in a moment. Make yourself comfortable." I nearly smacked my own head in frustration. Comfortable? Seriously?

He sat, looking like he'd much rather sit on a time bomb. Which he probably would. I waited for the doctor in silence. Daryl was quiet as well, but watching me. It looked like he was trying to decipher my puzzle. Good luck with that, I thought, itching to grab my book. I wasn't great with waiting and NOT doing something to kill the time, no matter how marginal. When the knock came on the door, I rushed to answer it. Unlike the rest of the compound, my door had a lock, and it was a well known fact that NO ONE was to open my door except me, unless I gave verbal consent.

"Doc, thank you for rushing up here." I ushered him into the room and moved back to Daryl. "Apparently one of the moron parade shot this man in the shoulder. Could you-" I motioned for him to check the man sitting in front of me.

The doctor smiled at me reassuringly. "Of course, my dear." He moved carefully toward Daryl, clearly seeing the stress written all over his face. "Now, let me have a look." Daryl, seeing the urge for him to obey in your eyes, pulled down the shoulder of his shirt again. Doc did as I had, pressing the surrounding skin, taking inventory of the ragged hole. He was tsking and I knew that he was as irritated by the unnecessary violence as I was. "This will hurt to clean, but you'll need some antibiotics and pain medication." I saw Daryl tense, but the doctor just kept his probing going. "I'm going to need you to lie down so I can take care of it." Doc glanced at me and I quickly offered my bed.

I rushed to it and pulled off the sheets and blankets, then I carefully covered a section with a towel I grabbed from the bathroom. Daryl watched me the entire time, his face a mask, but the wheels clearly turning in his brain. "I think the doctor wants you prone, Daryl." I pointed to the newly made examination/operation table.

He shook his head and gave a hushed sigh. He lay down on my bed and a flush of warmth of him lying there rushed through me. Jesus, I thought, even maimed this man gave me lusty thoughts. He was still wearing the shirt and I was about to ask him to take it off, for the doctor to take care of him of course, but I saw him shoot me a pleading look.

"Doc, can you work around the shirt?" I asked, knowing somehow that was what Daryl wanted, and needed. Doc agreed, and started working. I focused on Daryl's face, planning on keeping him comfortable regardless of his stubbornness. He grimaced a few times, but for the most part, stayed silent and still. Moments after the doctor had arrived, he was finished, wrapping the shoulder in padded bandages.

He handed me two bottles of pills with instructions on how to take care of the patient. I walked him to the door and heard Daryl shifting to move from the bed. "Daryl, just relax for a minute, please." As I said goodbye to the doctor and thanked him profusely, I turned back to see Daryl lying tensely on my bed. Before I shut the door, I requested that a rollaway bed be brought to my room. Along with linens and a few pillows, I found myself giving careful instructions to the guard and waited again while he relayed them through the walkie.

Closing the door, I turned back to face the room and Daryl. He was still lying on my bed like it was filled with sharp nails and I shook my head. "Not comfortable enough of a mattress?" I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at the quiet man lying before me.

He snorted again. "I think you know why I'm not comfortable." Ah, I thought, he was waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. His eyes were on the ceiling and I considered how to answer him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Daryl. Or force you to 'bend the knee'." I'd moved slowly and carefully toward him. Standing by the bed, I had to fight the urge to brush the hair from his eyes. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I wouldn't allow you to be hurt. You're safe." I knew that to him, it would sound like he was a pet, and sadly in a way he was, but I was being sincere. He wouldn't be harmed. Not while I still had a say in matters.

"Why?" He asked, finally looking back into my face. "Why do you care?"

I sighed, and pulled one of the more comfortable chairs to sit by the bed. Sitting down, I thought about how to explain. "I know that you must think a million horrible things about me. About my place here. About my 'title'." I nearly groaned. "I'm not a QUEEN." I spat the word out. "Just like Negan isn't God. He may be ruthless and a dick, but he's not omnipotent." I could feel Daryl's eyes on my face as I explained. "He won't harm anyone in my presence. The people here, his 'wives', his minions, his followers, they believe that it's because he doesn't want to harm my delicate sensibilities." I rolled my eyes and gave my own disgusted snort. "He won't do it in front of me because I know all his soft spots, all his weaknesses, and where all those skeletons he's hidden are kept. He won't harm you because I wanted you to be safe. He won't harm the others in front of me because I'm dangerous to him. Not because he wants me to be on the throne he built. Fear is what keeps me with him. His fear, not mine."

Daryl's eyebrows were scrunched together in curiosity. "He's afraid of you?" His voice was quiet, but his disbelief was loud and clear. "You're-"

I gave a laugh. "Yeah, I'm tiny." I agreed. "But you don't need physical strength or adeptness with weaponry to take a man down, Daryl. Sometimes you just need the right information." I shrugged. "I've known Negan for a very long time. Since before all the death and destruction. I knew him before, and when you've been there for that long, you KNOW someone. Knowledge is power. And I have that in abundance."

Another knock came and I rushed over to answer it. The bed, small but clean, was brought inside, along with a basket of sheets and blankets with a stack of pillows piled on top. I gestured for them to put it near my own bed. Daryl made to move off my bed as the others left, but I shot that right down. "Nope, don't even think about it." I said, pulling the sheets from the basket. I started making the bed. "You're going to move, only long enough for me to redress the bed you're lying on, then you're sleeping there." He started to speak, but I stopped him. "I insist. This cot will be comfortable enough for me. You've been shot, you need to get Doc's meds in your system, and I won't have you dealing with a restless night because you can't stretch out." I heard him sigh, but he stayed still. The cot was made up in no time and I turned back to my bed.

"Now you can get up for a bit and sit in that chair." I said, motioning toward the soft chair I'd moved to the side of the bed. I grabbed fresh bedding out of a cupboard and quickly remade the much larger bed. Tossing the pillows back on top, I stood back. "Get back in bed, please?" I asked, moving to grab the two bottles Doc had given me. I opened the antibiotics and shook out two. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge I walked back to my bed, noticing he'd arranged the pillows so he could recline slightly. "Here," I said, holding out the bottle and the two pills. As he was about to argue, I shook my head. "I won't force the pain pills on you, but the antibiotics I have to insist." He nodded and took them from me, tossing them into his mouth and taking a drink of the cool water.

"Thank you." He said, gruff still, but appreciatively. "You didn't have to-"

I smiled. "Yes, I did." I sat back in the chair. "Like I said, no one gets hurt during my watch."