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Lily Sullivan belongs to me, the Walking Dead does not.

"You are on lockdown," Hershel told her trying to make a serious joke.

"I understand Hershel. No leaving the room. Stay in bed. I pushed my luck and I don't plan to do it again."

"As long as you understand." He nodded to her before ducking out the room leaving her to sleep.

And sleep she did for almost another day.

When she finally woke up, there was Daryl sitting in a chair he'd pulled over next to the bed, his head back and his eyes closed, snoring.

"Being injured sucks," she muttered and his eyes fluttered open. "You are a light sleeper."

"Have to be these days. How ya feelin'?"

"I still hurt."

"How's your back. Heard that's still the worst."

She pushed herself up and turned her back towards him. "Can't see it, but I know it still hurts."

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Heard you were in a coma and then woke with a nightmare. Don't sound like a good way ta wake up." He sighed before holding out his hand. "Gimme the stuff for your back." She grabbed the bottle off the side table and gave it to him.

He rolled up her shirt so he could see her back.

"Didn't everyone know about the coma like condition?" she returned to the former conversation.

"Yeah, but not about the nightmare. Just Glenn and Maggie an' they told me. What ya see?"

"Everyone. Dead." His hands were warm on her back.

"Who?"

"Everyone. Rick. Carl. Lori."

"Me too?"

"No You were alive for a little while. The guy you killed back at the first camp, he was there. So was the other one I told you about."

"You keep saying there was a second guy but haven't said any more than that."

"He's tall, usually wears a black leather jacket, and had short brown hair. He was there and so were the guys from Randall's compound."

"What were they all doin' there?"

"Torturing us. Killing us. Killing you."

"Me? Yeah right..." He rubbed the medicine into her shoulders.

"You were outnumbered and the black coated guy sliced you open."

"Well, that ain't charmin'?"

"He came for me next, but that's not where it ended. Some african american woman came out of the blue with a samurai sword."

Daryl scoffed.

"Hey, this is my nightmare. She came and cut the heads off all the men who had ever come after me and then she walked over to me and I woke up."

"That's some hell of a nightmare."

"I believe it was too. I think I slapped Glenn when he came over trying to calm me down."

"You did. He had a red mark on his face when he spoke to me."

"Everyone around me gets hurt. Not fair for you guys."

"Nah. We got you safe."

She pulled her shirt back down and turned to face Daryl. He took her arm in his hand and ran his thumb down the scar on her arm.

"Can I help you with something?"

He didn't look up to meet her eyes, just stared at her arm. "Just looking at all the pain I've caused ya..." Her brow scrunched together asking him what he meant. "I was drunk and threw an axe. I was angry and hit ya which made ya leave. Jesus. I swore I'd never be like my old man." He sighed and leaned back in the chair running his hands through his hair.

"What was your father like?" she dared to ask.

He made eye contact as he chewed on his finger before sitting back up and shrugging his vest off. That caught her quite off guard but she was no longer confused when he turned his back to her revealing a smattering of scars.

They covered his back like a sick mosaic of burns. Next to the longest burn running from his left shoulder down across his back was a tattoo of two gargoyles. She bit her lip as her fingers brushed against his back examining what his father had done. The thickness of each scar was different meaning that his father had come at him more than once and abused him with different levels of anger. She could only imagine how it felt. She had a basic idea but her injuries were shallow. His were deep, very deep. It was amazing he didn't bleed to death.

"How-how old were you?" She squeezed his shoulders and his muscles tightened under her hands.

"A kid. Eight. Ten. Until I got away."

"Almost makes you glad the dead came back to life. Got rid of a lot of bad people."

He gently moved out from under her hands. "He died a long time ago." Daryl put his vest back on and resumed his seat in the chair. "Before the dead came back. And you more than anybody knows that not all the terrible people are dead. Hell, you lived with 'em."

She went back to their previous topic. "Sounds like you're relieved when he was gone."

"That's the understatement of the year."

"I can't imagine what it would be like growing up with parents like that."

"Good. Better to not to. But it made me who I am and I have to deal with it now."

"You sound like everyone hates you."

"They do. Haven't you noticed? You're the only one who stays around me long enough to hear all my secrets."

"If they don't like you then why did Carol stay by your side when I was running amuck? Why does Rick ask for your help all the time? You hunt for the group. Without food we'd be dead. You mean more to the group than you think. You care for us even if you don't want to think that."

His eyes widened in realization. "Merle never would have stood for this. Anyway so do you."

"What?"

"You're not just the group mascot, Lily. You're alive an' kind. People need that these days. You're the smiling face that people need to keep their spirits up. So don't ya dare die on me." He leaned in and kissed her forehead before standing up and making his way to the door. "Now, get some damn sleep and get better. You've scared us enough..."

He really cared was all that ran through her mind. The stubborn hick really cared. He had a hell of a way of showing it, but he cared.

As he opened the door, he saw Carl standing there mid knock.