Lying on the bed of Hershel's spare room, staring at the ceiling was becoming a boring experience.

He had only been inside for five minutes.

After being almost torn apart by walkers and having more blood on his skin than not, Daryl was taken inside the farm house to be taken care of.

Hershel managed to minimally fix the wound on his side, but there was still a long way to go for Daryl to be alright, besides his stubborn self denying the help.

With Carl also recovering from a bullet wound in another room, Hershel left to take a look on him, and sent you to Daryl's room.

You were Hershel's other child, which meant you knew how to take care of people—it was in your nature.

As you entered the room with the necessary tools, Daryl's eyes silently studied you, wary of your movements. He watched as you sat down, a warm cloth in your hand, ready to clean him up.

When he backed away.

"You're a nurse or somethin'?" he muttered. You knew he knew you could do it. That's all he knew about you, if not also your name.