- THREE DAYS LATER -

"WHERE'S Daryl?" I asked of Carl, who was currently sitting next to my bed.

Ever since I had been shot and rushed back to Alexandria after being rescue along with Maggie and Carol, Carl Grimes has been pretty protective of me. He seemed like he wanted to get to know me a little, even recalling to me how he has been shot... twice.

Carl looked up from the comic-book that he was currently reading with his one good eye. He glanced up and said, "What?"

"You heard me," I sighed, not trying to come off as rude, but I needed to know in a hurry. "Could you go get him for me, bud?"

"Bud?" Carl scoffed, but ended up laughing it off. He shook his head and stood up, placing his comic book open in the chair for him to return to later. He exited and left the door ajar.

For the past three days straight, I have been stuck in this room in Denise's little "hospital." Despite whatever it was called, I still didn't like being here. In the same breath, though, it was also kind of nice, too.

The only main reason was because, everyday, Carl has came in here to sit with me, so that I wouldn't feel so alone. He was a good kid, I can tell. I really liked him.

A figure appeared at the doorway, dark and mysterious, even with the light coming from the big window behind my bed. There stood Daryl, who looked down at me through his equally dark and very dirty hair.

He needed a good wash. Every single day. Three times a days.

"Hey," he somehow managed to say after a long moment of silence. He hadn't said a word to me lately, only because I knew that he felt guilty for what happened back there with those Saviors. Or, of course, he was pissed off at me because I was upped to stay back and I did not because I am stubborn as Hell.

After Paula shot me through the shoulder instead of the head, I had passed out due to the enraging pain that it had caused. She was aiming to kill me, but Michelle had stopped her and that's why she had missed. I have no idea why she would try to save me for, either.

"Hey," I breathed the simple word out. I blinked a couple of times before seeing Carl standing right behind him, spying over his shoulder. "Hey, bud, mind if Daryl and I talk for a second alone?"

Carl came into the doorframe and looked right at me, his mouth in a straight line. He simply nodded before bending down to grab his comic book, pressing it to his chest. "Alright," he said, looking between us both. "I'll be back soon."

"Can't wait," I smiled behind him before he disappeared. Daryl stepped inside and closed the door behind himself, before sitting in the seat that Carl had once sat in.

At first, we were both very quiet and there was quite obviously some tension between us. I could have used a simple butter knife to cut it up in here. The past three days, I have thought long and hard of what I would say to him, practiced it more and more. Yet, now that he's actually here, I have no earthly idea what to say to him. I'll just wing it, I guess.

"So, look, Daryl...," my voice trailed off, briefly glancing down at my hands. Now, I had to take a deep breath and calm down. This wouldn't help in the end if I just work myself up. So, I sharply sighed and looked over at him.

"I'm sorry that I did what I did the other day. I just didn't want Maggie or Carol to die. It was me or them, and I chose myself. I'm sorry that I gave you such a scare, but I'm okay. I will always be okay, either alive or dead," I admitted, no longer holding anything back. "Plus, I wouldn't ever leave you, Daryl."

To that, he kept quiet and looked like he was watching his boots down below. He didn't have much to say, but that was okay. He needed time to heal, as much as I did.

Rick still hadn't said more than five words to me since it has happened. Everyday, he has come in here to check on me, but he'll say the same thing every time, "Hey, Tess. How you doing?" I really appreciated Rick and what he's done for me since I've been here. Honestly, I don't deserve him and his gratitude. I don't deserve this place at all. Not to mention, I don't deserve Daryl more than anything else.

"Don't leave again," he whimpered, briefly shaking his shaggy head. He kept his eyes glued on his boots for a while - as I gulped from what he said - before he finally looked up at me. His eyes somewhat meeting mine. "Ever again."

"Never again. I swear," I reassured him before he stood up, coming to my bedside.

Then, before he goes to leave, he came over and embraced me as best as he could. Yet, I knew that it was more about our newfound friendship and this unspoken bond between us than it ever being something "romantic."

As he tried to leave, I suddenly found myself grabbing his arm and bringing him back down to me. "Hey, how about you help me real quick, though?" I began to plead with him with my eyes.

He nodded and muttered, "Sure, what do you need? Your meds or something?"

I shook my head and rephrased, "Help me go outside. I need the fresh air. I can walk, but I need you to help me up. My arm and shoulder is still not working like it should. Pretty please?"

I seen him gulp and, alas, he took a very deep breath. "Sure, Tess, I'll help you," he nodded and reached his arms out towards me. He wrapped his arm underneath mine and helped me to my feet with ease.

Then, he led the way to the door, which he opened for me, and I began to lead us to the front door. I opened the door wide open and the heat immediately hit me like a truck. The sun didn't exactly shine a spotlight on me until we went to the very last step on the stairs and sat down there. Yet, with the help of the nearby tree, we were somewhat in a shade.

Immediately, Daryl pulled out his cigarette pack from his front pocket and placed one of them in between his lips. He lit it up in a hurry after he put his pack back in his pocket. He took a couple of drags off of it before I reached out for it. He looked me up and down in a mixture of question and disgust. "You serious?"

I nodded, confidently, and smiled again. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm not a kid anymore. So, may I, Mr. Dixon?"

And, somehow, he agreed with a heavy sigh and handed it over. I took a long drag off of it, too, and coughed just a little bit afterwards. Daryl shook his head, trying his best to hide his grin, and snatched his cigarette back. "You can't handle it," he remarked, deep voice and all.

"I can, too," I claimed, standing my ground. "It's just... I don't know. It's been a while, Daryl. I never really had a reason to smoke before. I mean, I was only focus on killing Walkers and pleasing the Saviors. I didn't have time to do anything else. Though, stress is probably my top problem at this point."

He nodded and took another long drag from his cigarette, which was getting shorter by the second. "I know what you mean. I only smoke when I can, but not all the time anymore," he added with a grunt. "Protecting you has doubled that, but that's okay."

Then, that's when it hit me... He was protecting me all this time. More than I ever imagined he would. So, I just had to know the truth already. Despite what Glenn told me to do and not to do, too, I wanted to dig even deeper into Daryl's unspoken code that he has with me and everybody else. For right now, though, what he has on me.

I peered over at him and calmly asked, "Why do you always feel the need to protect me?"

At this point, it got really awkward, I believed. I didn't know what else to say and he didn't seem to have the words to answer my question, either. Yet, somehow, I knew that he had heard it loud and clear.

Daryl took one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it into the pavement below, but - for good measure - he used his boot on it, too. Then, he positioned himself up. His knees up and his arms hanging over them, with his hands meeting in the middle there.

Finally, he confessed, "I couldn't even begin to tell you why I feel the need to protect you all the time."

And, even though it wasn't everything I wanted to hear... It was the truth and that meant a lot more to me.