A/N: I was planning on making my comeback a few weeks ago, but my brother passed away in a car crash. So I was struggling with that but writing this depressing fic helped take my mind off of things. I will be resuming Eligere soon I just had to get back in the swing of things.
**A/N: So I posted this story a little while ago with the song lyrics in it. I'm kind of new to this site still and I didn't realize that was against the rules! I'm so sorry! So here it is without the lyrics! It might make more sense if you listen to the song while you read it. The song is All I need-Radiohead. If I brake any rules in the future (I sure hope I don't) I would really appreciate it if it was pointed out in a nicer manner. You can just simply tell me what I did wrong instead of being rude. Because saying "It doesn't matter if your brother passed away or not." isn't a very nice way to start a review. Okay! Thanks for reading my rant!
"Murphy!" Connor yelled, scrambling backwards away from the walker. Murphy turned away from the walker he had just killed and ran for Connor. Murphy reaches out trying to pull him away from the snarling monster. A walker, dragging itself on the ground snagged his pant leg, pulling him to the ground. He cried out as his shoulder came into contact with the hard, unforgiving ground. He turned to fight off the walker that was inching closer. Connor fumbles for his gun, which is just out of reach. He turns to me, eyes blazing with fear. "Daryl!" I sink the hatchet into the head of the walker in front of me and rush to his aid. Like always.
I pull Connor to his feet, supporting his weight. He groans loudly as his injured leg tries to support his weight. "I can't walk." Connor mutters, looking around at all of the death. I nod and start of towards to highway. He clings onto my side as we traverse the uneven ground. The frigid night air contrasting his heat. A heat that burns through me, muddling any sense of self-preservation that I used to have. It's funny how fast ones priorities can change for a person who doesn't even value your life the same way you value theirs. I can't blame him. Blood always come first, but some days it stings. Days like these when he calls for his brother first. This isn't a mutual thing where he would lay down his life for mine as well. No. I'm a trapped animal fighting for a master that has long since forgotten the loyal beast. I will continue to say nothing, as I always have, because it's the end of the world. I don't need any of this pathetic drama interfering with survival.
"Murphy!" Connor gasps and runs to his brother, killing every walker in his way. They both have their backs to the wall, narrowly avoiding bites. I fire a bolt at one going for his neck. Connor doesn't even spare me a glance. Of course. I look back to the walkers in front of me just in time to see one sink it's teeth into my shoulder. I nearly scream out in agony, but I keep it in and resume slaughtering the rest. I can die later. Now is not the time. Not when Connor is in danger. I kill the last walker near me and turn to finish the ones nipping at the brothers. A grin plays at Connors lips, butterflies flickering in my stomach in the oh-so-girly way. "That was fun!" He chuckles. "C'mon Murph." He saunters past me, clapping me on the shoulder. He misses the way I suck in my breath at the shock of pain. Ignored again. Still. But, there is no time to dwell on that. Time is ticking.
All my life I strived to make my pa and Merle proud. I fought, hunted, drank, smoked, killed, and sacrificed everything I believed in trying to do so. I almost died for them on multiple occasions. Sometimes by their own hands. I would do anything, give anything, for them. But not once did they make me feel like life was worth living. And then Connor saunters into my fucked up life in the middle of an even more fucked up world and gives me a reason. In the beginning I hated him. I still do. I didn't think I deserved to be happy, and he proved me right. He makes my life hell. More than the apocalypse already has. He confirmed everything I thought I knew. Having attachments is never a good thing. It'll be the death of me. It is the death of me. And yet, through all this hate and self-loathing, I can't bring myself to truly hate him.
Connor grins at Murphy, stupidly, armed with an old camera. The kind that prints the picture out immediately after. I slump at the bar of some abandoned pub we were staked out in. Various alcohols surrounding me, creating a nest. Connor holds the camera up to your face, a bright flash igniting the world for a brief moment. Connor waves the photo around, trying to speed up the development. He holds it close to his face for inspection and laughs. Murphy snatches it from his fingers and chuckles a bit too. He discards it on the bar in favor of a half full bottle of whiskey. He grins and pulls Connor to one of the booths, taking a long pull, handing it over to Connor. I slid the photo closer to myself and look at it. Murphy is grinning like an idiot, but that's not what catches my attention. In the mirror behind the bar I can see Connor, with the large camera held up to his face, smiling like he doesn't have a worry in the world. A small smile dances across my lips. The smile fades as quick as it had come. In the corner of the picture I can see myself. Hidden behind alcohol, looking haggard and beaten. Lifeless. I tear myself out of the picture and let the small corner fall to the ground. I shove the other part into a pocket and take a drink from the scotch. I could feel the bite festering on my shoulder. Only a few hours left until I have to off myself.
Murphy and Connor are sitting side-by-side in the booth, using the only flashlight to read a children's book. Some story about a princess and a frog. I would tease them, if I thought they cared. I scoop up the bottle of scotch and shuffle to the booth. I slid in next to Connor and pull out the photo again. I secretly steal a glimpse at it, trying to use the light of the flashlight to see Connor better. Connor seems to notice my closeness and leans further into his brother's side. I sigh, as the picture is plunged into darkness. It'll all be over soon.
I finally found someone I want to live for and all he does is make me feel like dying would be a better choice. I wish I could back to the way it was before. Not caring. It's all much easier.
I can feel the bite beginning to burn and itch. An itch I won't be able to scratch. My blood has begun to boil. Burning me from the inside out. I want to cry out and scream in agony, but my throat has closed off. I just slump into his side, the material of the booth slippery on my now sweat sheened skin. Connor calls my name, I can hear him, but it sounds as if he is yelling at me down a long corridor. A groan escapes my lips. He jumps up, pushing the table out of the way. He places a hand on my cheek; ground me, clearing my senses. "Daryl! Are you bit?" I nod. He cusses, loudly. "You dumb bastard! Why didn't you say anything! I could've helped you!" Murphy grabs Connor and pulls him aside.
"Connor, the infection has spread by now, we can't save him." Murphy's face scrunches up in pain. "Just go be with him while he dies. He'll like that." A sob escaped my throat. No tears have fallen, but they will soon. "I was going to tell him, Murph. I had it all planned out. I was going to tell him tomorrow." I cover my face with my hands. "I know. There is no tomorrow for him. Go to him now." I nod and approach him again. I kneel by his head. "Hey Daryl." I start weakly. "I was going to take you hunting tomorrow. Drive out to the middle of nowhere and give you this quiver of bolts I found a while back. I love how excited you get when you go hunting. It's like all those years of pain never existed. You just were. I'm sorry I didn't notice. God, am I sorry. I'm sorry I can't save you. I'm so tired of people dying. Everyone I care about, besides Murph has died because of me. I'm afraid he'll be next. But that doesn't matter right now. I don't want you to die, but I kind of envy you. You're getting out of this. There's no other way. I hope it's all it's cracked up to be on the other side. I hope there's huge forests with lots of Bambi's and Thumper's for you to hunt." I smile sadly down at him.
His eyes are closed, but a teeny smile is dancing across his lips. "When did-" I take a deep breath. "When did you get bit?" I drop my hand to play with his hair. "Right after I killed a walker going for you." He whispers, leaning into my touch. A lump forms in my throat. He had died protecting me. "I like you Daryl." He nearly grins at that, if he had the strength, I'm sure he would've. "I like you a lot more than a religious, straight man should like a gay hick from the south." I run my fingers through his hair again, trying to ignore how much he was sweating and the dark, crimson stain on his shoulder that seemed to suck the color out of him. " He huffed. " 'm straight, faggot." He groaned in pain. I smiled through the tears now falling. "I'll miss you." He smiled a bit at that, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth. "Miss you too." He says it so faintly, I barely caught it. He cracked his eyes open and catches my hand in his. " 'm so cold, Connor." I draw in a breath at how weak he sounds.. "I know, Daryl. Just go to sleep, now. You've done so much for so long. Rest now, Daryl." His eyes drifted close one last time. His body stilled and the last breath ghosted out of his lungs. I press my lips to his cold temple, pulling out my gun. "Sleep well." I press the muzzle to his temple. I lean down and cover his cold lifeless lips with mine. I lean back and pull the trigger. A resounding shot rings through the air.