When he first decided to search for a cure in France, Daryl could only imagine all the weird shit that’d go down along the way.

A bunch of bad decisions later, he wakes up to the sensation of being jostled around and the rhythmic sounds of waves. Oh, right. He’s on a boat. But beyond his realization, he doesn’t know where he is, nor when he got here, nor does he know how he got here. Not exactly, at least. All he can think about is how badly everything hurts. And he’s so goddamn tired… He tries to resist, but his consciousness slips away despite himself.

At some later point, Daryl stirs once again. The crashing tides seem more distant now, and he can feel sand underneath him. Everything is calmer this time around.

Until his vision clears and he notices a figure standing above him. Almost reflexively, he scurries into a defensive stance, preparing for confrontation.