"Jesus fucking Christ," Connor MacManus was practically dragging his brother along through the woods, the fallen leaves from the trees making it that much fucking harder for him to move on. Murphy was bleeding in all sorts of places, his head, his bottom lip, his arm and his ankle was twisted real bad. Connor himself was bleeding too, but nowhere near as bad as Murphy.
"Connor," Murphy was breathing heavily, it was making Connor nervous. "Connor, we gotta stop." he patted his semi good leg. "I'm so tired."
"We gotta keep movin'," Connor snapped. "If they find us, we're dead, dead you hear me?"
Murphy whimpered but kept limping alongside Connor, who still felt like he was dragging dead weight. Honestly, Connor did not think that those guys were looking for them anymore, they had lost them a while back and Connor and Murphy had done enough of a number on them that they would need time to heal too. But it wasn't any reason not to be afraid, and Connor did not like being afraid.
They had it too rough the last week, between that weird guy with the eye patch and now this crew, Connor didn't know how they had made it out alive, in either situation. Murphy had somehow come out getting beaten the worst in both events. Not that his brother couldn't handle himself, that was definitely not the case, but he seemed to have some kind of weird target on his back. Especially with the first fellow, the guy with the eye patch, he kept calling Murphy: Dixon. Connor didn't know what the fuck a Dixon was, but it seriously made that guy angry, he had beaten the shit out of Murphy. Well, before Connor had released himself from his henchmen's hold and gone completely mad on him. But Connor hadn't killed the eye patch man, or the leader of the other crew, which made his panic all the more worse.
Then there were the walkers, because their life wasn't hard enough. Running from them, with a half-passed out Murphy was becoming much too difficult for him. He was trying very hard not to waste bullets, but he wondered how far he was going to be able to go until that went to shit too. So it came down to evading them, dodging behind trees or becoming noiseless, which, thanks to the pile of fucking leaves all over the ground, was very hard to do. How the hell were they going to survive the winter, the way things were going for them?
They were good at surviving, back in Boston, before and during the prison. Then when shit hit the fan with the apocalypse, they did what no one else was smart enough to do, and leave the city. They evaded cops and the military, and even tried to get their friends out, but that did not go their way. So they took off, going from place to place until they had landed in Georgia. Connor was wishing he could circle back around somehow, find his way back to the road to the car, but it had been lost the moment the eye patch guy took hold of them, and Connor was no tracker. So now on foot, he and his brother had to survive, with very little food and water between them.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Connor was supposed to take care of Murphy, which was his duty as an older brother, no matter how many fucking minutes were in between them. Murphy was still a kid in so many ways, he always had been. Connor grew up fast even before the zombie apocalypse. His brother was always smiles and jokes, reckless just for the sake of it. Sure, Connor had his extravagant plans, but he put twice the amount of thought into whatever he did. But it was hard to think of good plans in this kind of world, when their back seemed to constantly be up against the wall.
To make matters altogether worse, Connor was also surprised they hadn't died from starvation or food poisoning yet. They were both shitty hunters, and so had to make do with trying to make all their kills last them as long as possible. They had found a couple of homes on their adventures, taking what they needed, but Georgia had been a lot harder on them since they had arrived. They had come across a farm too, but that from the looks of it, had been burnt to nothing a long while ago, and completely overrun by walkers. It was a shame too; it would have been a real nice place for him and his brother to settle.
Speaking of settling...
"Holy...Murph, Murph, open your fucking eyes..." he tried nudging him. When Murph forced himself to open his eyes, Connor nodded his head. "Look at that."
Before them, out of the woods was a prison, and from the looks of it, a well put together prison. There were a couple of walkers roaming around it, but not too many, and far enough that if Connor caught the attention of one of the people roaming around the courtyard, he wouldn't have to worry about it at all. He had dealt with people in prisons before; he could sure as hell do it again.
Besides, there were women and children walking around, from what he could see, which meant that whoever leads these people had a big group with him, and was nice enough to take in people who would need it.
"Great," Murphy mumbled. "Hurry the hell up then would you, instead of standin' here like a fuckin' idiot."
"You know," Connor grunted as he pulled his brother along. "You're supposed to be in pain, not have a smart mouth on ya."
"It's a talent." Murphy chuckled, and then coughed a bit, his free arm coming around his stomach.
"All right," he mumbled. "It's alright Murph, we're nearly there now."
Connor walked quickly, and whatever passersby were closest who saw, called out the name 'Dad!' and 'Rick!' and hurried away, repeating the name over and over again. By the time Connor and Murphy had gotten to the gate, waiting for it to open, a man with wavy brown hair, a full beard and blue eyes came running down. Connor was surprised to see that he didn't have a gun with him. Right by his side was a young boy with a sheriff's hat on.
Rick was looking at Murphy like he had seen a ghost. "Daryl?" panic was rising in him and the man went to the gate, his hands fumbling over himself trying to open it.
"Daryl?" Connor looked down at him. "Who the fuck is that?"
Rick and the boy exchanged very confused looks before Rick seemed to get a hold of himself. He stopped what he was doing, taking his hands away and surveying the both of them. "He bit?" Rick asked them, still looking at Murphy. It made Connor uncomfortable.
"No," Connor looked over his shoulder. "But if we don't hurry this up, we might get bit."
Rick put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Carl, open it."
The boy named Carl did what he was told, and Connor and Murphy both stumbled inside. Connor who had not realised just how tired he was, collapsed the moment he realised they were safe. Murphy toppled with him, almost, but Rick caught him immediately, settling him down more gracefully than his brother was about to.
"We can fix you up fine." Rick told Murphy. "But before I bring you in with our people, there are some questions I need to ask you."
"Can ask us anythin'," Connor wiped his sweaty forehead. "You've just saved our lives."
"What are your names?"
"Connor," he patted his chest. "Murphy. We're brothers."
Rick nodded, his face hard. "How many walkers have you killed?"
Connor frowned. "I've lost count."
"How many people have you killed?"
Murphy laughed, still holding his stomach. "Recently?"
Rick hesitated and Connor slapped his brother's good arm. "You're such a fuckin' moron," he told him.
"Why?" Rick continued, forcing them to pay attention to him.
"Look alright," Connor glared at his brother. "When this thing started we've haven't had to kill people, we've stayed out of everyone's way. We killed before, long before."
"You two were murderers?"
"Little harsh," Murphy murmured. "We killed drug dealers, rapists, mobsters. We killed bad guys."
Rick raised his eyebrow. "And you think that makes you better?"
"Hey," Murph leaned on his brother for further support, even though they were already sitting. "We never raped anyone ourselves, never got with drugs, never killed an innocent. Judge us how you want." Murphy challenged him, and for a moment his brother wondered yet again, how they were still alive. Christ, Murphy had a mouth and a half on him. If they didn't die just from him poking buttons on the wrong person, he'd die of shock instead.
"Can you walk?" Rick looked like he was trying not to grin, looking over at Connor.
"Yeah."
"I'll help you with...Murphy," he looked uncomfortable when he said the name, but Connor wasn't sure why. "Carl, walk behind us."
Connor didn't know why that was important, especially since neither one of them seemed to have a gun on them. They were loaded with weapons but Rick didn't seem to care, didn't ask them to remove it or if he could pat them down. Not that Connor cared all too much, if this Rick guy was going to give them a place to be, he would go along with whatever he said.
Murphy had finally passed out, now that he was being properly carried by two men instead of one who was only half awake himself. Connor panicked for but a moment, but when Rick assured him that he was breathing, he carried on, trying to ignore the plenty of people who were staring before Rick brought them over to cell block C.
"Hershel!" Rick called out.
A man on crutches came through, very old, with a growing beard and shoulder length hair tied back. A woman was with him, with graying hair herself, pretty enough, slim, and maybe Connor's age, or a little older.
"This is Hershel and Carol." Rick relieved Connor of Murphy and laid him in one of the beds in the cells. "They're both doctors. They'll take care of your brother."
"Jesus," Carol grabbed her heart, looking at Murphy. "Brother? Daryl has another brother?" Rick was shaking his head, both hands out in front of him as he tried to find some words to explain.
Connor looked at them all confused. "Who the fuck is Daryl?"
"I am." a gruff southern voice came.
Connor whipped his head around and saw a man, who most definitely looked like Murphy. Except...he also didn't, but there were definitely more similarities than differences. Murphy was clean cut or at least compared to this guy he was. Daryl, was tanner, longer hair, blue eyes that narrowed themselves rather than being as open and excited as Murphy's. Daryl was a lot dirtier too, like bathing and personal hygiene was not high on his list of priorities (but he didn't smell bad either). He was slightly older than himself and his brother, and hairier, more scruff than Murphy had.
More than that though, it was the look in his eyes that made him different than Murphy. This man was hard, like he had seen shit go down and had been through war. Murphy and Connor had too, of course, but Murphy and Connor were never ones to let themselves live in a state of negativity.
The man, Daryl, ignored Connor and looked to Rick. "Just got back with Michonne, couldn't find him anywhere." he sounded apologetic.
Rick didn't seem to mind so much about that particular detail. "Are you both alright?" Rick asked, holding his friend's shoulder.
"Yeah." Daryl tapped Rick's side. "Who's this?" he pointed at Connor.
"Connor." Rick said, and then led Daryl over to Murphy. Connor was still in shock himself, not only because his brother had some long lost twin, but Jesus Christ, now it was all starting to come together. That guy with the eye patch was looking for some guy named Dixon, well what if that person and Daryl were the same guy? Hell, Murphy looked a little younger than him maybe, but Daryl and Murphy could pass as twins rather than he and Murphy!
"What the hell?" Daryl said, looking down at Murphy. Hershel had already started cleaning his wounds. "This for real?"
"It's the Irish version of you." Rick said seriously. "I thought it was you."
Carol had her arms crossed, looking a little worried. "You have a long lost brother we don't know about?"
"Who's Irish?" Daryl turned around. "Nah, don't think so." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, they say there's seven people in the world who look like you." he waved his hand over at Murphy.
Connor frowned. "That's a shitty explanation."
"Well either that or we're related."
"Like hell." he snapped. His mother would never have cheated on his father, nor the other way around.
Daryl, who was not too happy with the tone of voice Connor had chosen with him, walked up to him, leaving barely any space between the two. Carol stared at them, while Hershel ignored them. Rick had eyes only for Daryl, only once did Connor notice that they shifted lightly to Connor, but it was a glare, like if Connor made any move against Daryl, that Rick would not need a gun to kill him.
"Watch your mouth, asshole." he said. "You're in my home now."
Connor was not a man who often apologised. But his brother needed assistance, and these people were going to give it to him, so he sucked up his pride and blew out a sorry, under his breath, but enough for Daryl to hear.
"Hey," Connor said as Daryl took a few steps back. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Dixon, would it now?" he sat on the chair in the corner of the cell, letting out a sigh. Jesus, he was tired. He really wanted to sleep, much more than anything right now.
"Yeah," Daryl frowned, exchanging a look with Rick. "How'd you know that?"
Connor nodded in his brother's direction. "My brother took one hell of a beatin' for you." he said darkly. "Some asshole with a patch over his eye thought it was you, and beat the hell out of him." He didn't add that they had just finished healing before the other group had found them. It wasn't related, so Connor didn't think it needed to be said.
"What?" Rick walked forward, past Daryl now. "What man? What was his name?"
"Didn't say." Connor frowned. "Had a Mexican guy with him..." he saw Rick and Daryl exchange angry looks with each other. "You guys got beef with him?" then he realised that was a stupid question, otherwise his brother would not have taken the fall for Daryl.
Daryl ignored his question. "Where'd you see him last?"
"Christ, was a week ago, wasn't it?" he breathed.
Rick seemed very relieved by the answer that Connor had given them. He put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Stay here. You just got back, alright. I need you around for now."
Daryl chewed the inside of his lip and then nodded lightly, accepting Rick's words. Connor almost grinned again, Jesus Christ, Daryl was one open book. The way he was looking at Rick, hell, Connor could see the love from here. Connor never had a 'best friend' look at him like that before.
Carol offered pathetically, "There could be a load of people with eye patches."
Rick smiled softly at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nice try." He ran a hand through his hair. "Come on Connor, we'll get you something to eat."
"If it's alright with you, I'll stay here." he looked at his brother. "Don't wanna leave him alone."
"Sure." Rick nodded, putting a hand on Carl's back and leading him out of the room. Carol sat by Hershel, helping him with whatever it was he was doing to Murphy. Oddly, Connor trusted them even though they had just met. How harmful could an old man be, anyway? Besides, from the looks of it, all the medicine they were using looked fairly legitimate, which was good enough for Connor.
Daryl stood awkwardly in the room, holding onto the strap of his crossbow. "Right," he tapped Carol's shoulder. "Holler if you need me."
"Will do." she told him.
He looked at Connor for a moment, who looked back, waiting for something to happen. Daryl walked up to him, almost shyly, avoiding his gaze. He went in the pocket of his vest and took out a bar, something covered in chocolate, half wrapped. "Here," he offered.
"It's yours."
"You look like you need it." he looked over Connor's body; and it was true that he had lost some weight since the apocalypse had started. "S'all good." he shrugged awkwardly.
Connor took it and smiled lightly. "Thanks."
Daryl nodded again and left the cell block, Connor noticing that on the back of his vest were angel wings. He smiled and touched his cross that was under his shirt, unnoticeable. He unwrapped the bar, and took a bite from it, his thoughts having left with Daryl Dixon.
hey peeps! I hoped you enjoyed chapter one. I know it obviously didn't have too much interaction between the otp at play here, but it was more to give an intro of what point I decided to put this story at, introduce the characters to each other and so on. If you liked it, let me know, review and follow so I know this story is worth continuing! :D (also, p.s: there will not be a love triangle, with daryl/connor/rick (or carol or beth) but it was necessary to put Connor's assumptions in there for future reference !
