He's Just a Baby

After the Swing Stage

Hi guys, sorry this took like 5ever to come out, I've been so distracted recently 😭I basically have the next chapter ready tho, so that should come out soon!

Anyway, hopefully you all enjoy this chapter! It was a bit confusing to right, but I like it!

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He knew this wasn't his first time waking up. He could vaguely recall slipping in and out of consciousness various times. But he couldn't remember much else other than a lot of pain, screams, and cries, before the world blacked out again.

This time when his eyes cracked open though, he was able to keep them from shutting for more than a couple of seconds.

As his blurry vison faded, his eyes darted around the room he found himself in, analyzing where he was. It appeared to be one of the hospital rooms in Alexandria's small clinic-he'd been there enough times to know what every room of that place looked like. The lights were off and the small window on the wall a couple of feet to the right him was covered by white curtains. But even the dark room did nothing to aid the massive headache he had. He was laying flat on his back, on a hospital bed pressed on a wall in the middle of the room, his gaze directed up towards the popcorn ceiling. He was shirtless, and his lower half was covered with a thick blanket; as far as he could tell, he wasn't wearing any pants either. All of the blood and other substances that had covered his body that night had been washed away, leaving his skin itchy and scabbed. He could feel all the tight gauzes and bandages that were wrapped over his frame, and he could also feel the puffiness of a fresh diaper wrapped around his lower half. His legs felt numb from laying down for so long, and he softly shifted his right one to the side a bit on the bed, in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position.

The slight movement caused a spike of pain to shoot through his groin area, making him whine impulsively. His body had finally yanked itself out of headspace again, he didn't know how long he had been in it, and now he was back in that awful in between state, where he could form logical adult thoughts, but his body acted on its own.

"Daryl?"

A groggily voice coming from somewhere next to his legs make him jump slightly, another flare of pain gushing through his body. From the way he was laying, he couldn't see past his stomach, and the back of his head was aching too much to force it up. His breathing quickened as he tried to place the voice, his mind still out of sorts. What if it was one of the men who had tired to kill him? He thought they had all died, and it would be kind of weird for them to take him to a hospital, but there was a possibility that-

His brief panic was halted when a man with a horrible case of bedhead messing up his usually pristine ginger hair sat up in a bedside chair and leaned over him, a mountain of concern in his eyes.

"Eric?" Daryl croaked, his throat feeling dry. Upon hearing his voice, the caregiver next to him seemed to breath a large sigh of relief, although still sounding sick from worry.

"Oh my gosh, oh Daryl. You can see me? You can hear me? Thank goodness, you're finally back."

"...Back?" Daryl restated quietly, watching as Eric raked a hand through his hair before straightening himself back up and reaching down the side of the medical bed. A moment later, Daryl felt the bed raise up a bit under his head, and he finally wasn't looking at the celling anymore.

"You were out of it for a while," Eric muttered sadly as he pressed his hand to Daryl's forehead, the little flinching slightly under the touch. "It was awful hearing your screams and not being able to do anything about it."

The archer watched as Eric adjusted the blanket around him and brushed his hand over a couple of the bandages that he could now see covered his entire stomach. A pang of guilt hit him as the caregiver wiped away at a tear; he felt awful for having been the one to cause it.