Carol had never been encased in cement. But if she ever found herself in that situation, she assumed it would feel like she currently did.

The once simple task of just stretching her eyelids half an inch somehow now seemed herculean to her. But the throbbing in her side made her second guess if she even wanted to open her eyes to gaze at her newest battle wound. There was a sad sense of accomplishment that she was able to continue the tasks of inhaling and exhaling at the moment. Apparently it was hard to bounce back from massive blood loss. It was also hard to keep conscious after losing so much blood.

When she was conscious, she took note of a few things, though.

She heard the occasional bustle of Tara checking her fluids and Denise examining her stats. If they asked her any questions about her condition, all she could muster was a positive "Mm-hmm" or a negative "Mm-mmm".

And the two probably didn't realize, but Carol also heard the collision of Denise's lips on Tara's. She knew it was Denise making the move, because shortly after was Tara's chuckle and a murmur of "Let's clean ourselves up before things get too hands on, Doc."

She could practically taste the food that Carl had brought in for her. The chocolate chip cookies she had taught him how to make. "It's not much, but when you get your strength back, you'll need to eat." He had gently told her while she was half asleep. After a moment's pause, he added on "He was too scared to come see you in your condition, but… Sam helped me make them for you."

She wanted to smile when the relief washed over her from hearing Sam was OK, but all she could manage was a twitch of her lips. She imagined he saw it; the boy was too watchful to miss anything.

She smelled the assortment of flowers Maggie had gathered in her room. They were a welcome change to the room's odorous concoction of bleach, mothballs, and disinfectant. Maggie had sat with her for a while; she told Carol about the pregnancy, about Glenn's MIA status, and then recited a prayer thanking God for Carol's recovery and a plea for Glenn's safe return.

But the thing Carol could sense more than any other was his presence. He sat on her right side for what seemed like hours, nonstop, on her end (Rick and Michonne had visited twice while she came in and out of consciousness.)

He was there when her brain turned back on, and he was there when her mind started getting fuzzy and senses became blurry.

She strained her eyes to open a sliver, and an onslaught of bright white flooded her vision. She closed her eyes and groaned in pain at the pulverizing the light was doing to her retinas.

She heard Daryl lurch forward and ask with concern "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Light…too bright." She managed. 'Oh God, I sound like the crypt keeper.' She thought to herself when she heard her own voice.

Daryl let out a breath of relief and leaned back in his chair. "Don't do shit like that." He said halfheartedly.

"Sorry…Pookie." She smirked, since that was all she could manage at the moment. He snorted humorously in response.

After a few minutes and efforts to clear her throat, Carol tried her hand at talking once more. "These painkillers…are amazing." She attempted to lighten the mood some more.

He was silent in response, but she could feel his stance relax the more she talked. After another minute, his deep voice grunted out "I need to stop leavin'." She could imagine his posture as he spoke to her. He probably had his eyes covered by his bangs and she guessed he was anxiously biting his lip and wringing his hands.

"I'm invincible." Carol would've shrugged if she could. "Don't worry about me."

"That's the thing." He was probably looking at her now, quiet and serious as always. "You ain't. When I'm out, I think about all the shit you're getting into back home." She would've laughed there. Her near death encounters were starting to hit double digits. "One of these days, I ain't gonna make it back. Or worse; I will and you're gonna…"

"Hey." She wiggled her fingers, and extended her arm towards him the same way she had after Merle's passing. He held her hand automatically; his grasp was too gentle, like she was as delicate as tissue paper right now. She managed to open her eyes—she had to look at him when she told him this.

Yep, looking at her and biting his lip. Like she knew he would be.

"We have now."