Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Thirteen: To Kill A Mockingbird

•thirteen•

Beatrix

"Good morning," I smile at Daryl who is just now waking up. It's been at least six hours since I woke up to deal with Shane's nosebleed and I've been in my trailer organizing supplies ever since.

"The hell is in my arm?" He asks while pulling at the tubing.

"An IV," I get up and walk over to him.

"Take it out," he holds his arm out to me, but I push it back down. "Get it out of my arm right now, Beatrix."

"You needed fluids," I lie. The truth is, I just like watching how upset he gets over my IV pole. "So I gave you an IV. You're a deep sleeper. I have no idea how you didn't wake up when I done it."

"If I needed fluids, you coulda' just gave me a bottle of water," he grumbles and sits up.

"Different kind of fluids, Daryl," I laugh and start checking all of his vitals again. "You need to stay in bed for a couple of days so you don't pop your stitches. And you need to take it easy, too. You're gonna be super sore, so it's best if you just stay down for a couple of days."

"Do I have to stay here?" Daryl asks, "And do I have to keep this thing in my arm?"

"Yes, you need to keep your IV," I laugh. "I can help you get to the tent after I get done in here."

"Alright," he nods and leans back, putting his non-IV arm behind his head.

"Wanna help me?" I ask, holding up a container of gauze and syringes.

"I ain't got nothin' better to do," he shrugs and I pass him the container along with another empty one. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Seperate them and fit them neatly in each container" I start grabbing more containers of gauze, syringes and medical tape. "There's a whole lot, so organize them neatly and make them look presentable."

"Who the hell you gonna be presentin' it for?" He raises an eyebrow as he dumps everything out onto the bed in front of him.

"Be careful, and please don't stab yourself," I shake my head and sit back down on the floor to organize the actual medicine. "I'm presenting it for me and I want it to look nice."

"You're one of a kind, Trixy," Daryl lets out a small laugh, which makes me smile.

-

"I ain't doin' it. Might as well give up," Daryl crosses his arms the best he can with the IV in his arm.

"If you don't, I will, and I have terribly girly handwriting," I force the sharpie into his hand.

"I'll rip the damn thing out of my arm," he places his hand over the IV port and I quickly place my hands over his to keep him from doing so.

"That's not a safe thing to do," I warn him. "I just need you to sign it so that we know who's is who's."

"This one is shorter. We ain't gonna have a problem telling them apart," he sighs.

"Fine. I'll just stay in here with you all the time until you get ready to get up and moving again," I shrug my shoulders. "And you won't even be able to pee without me watching. I can get super annoying too."

"Damn it, Beatrix," Daryl rubs his hand over his face, careful to avoid his bullett wound. "Fine, I'll sign it, but I'm only puttin' my initials."

"Thank you," I cross my arms over my chest and smile as he marks the IV pole with 'D.D.' "Now I'll help you to our tent if you want."