Helloo. New chapter. I'm happy to tell you that I didn't have that much trouble writing it this time. That's the bright side. The dark side is that it's slightly fucked up? I know, I know, I'm a bad bad writer and I keep torturing my characters too much, but it's the apocalypse and it can't be butterflies and rainbows all the time. Besides, I gotta stick to the Walking Dead canon material ;D Anyway, I hope you're not too mad at me after reading this chapter, all I can say is that I promise you that once we got through all the mid season finale material, I'm gonna give you some more lovely Connaryl.

Maybe.

Haha.

Hey, I wish I could tell you more about all the stuff I got planned, but I don't wanna spoil you, so sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Also, I know that I'm kinda repeating myself with certain topics but I already killed the Governor and I'm crappy at writing original characters so one more sorry.

Absolution

Chapter 26 - Turn

"No. No no no. Not fuckin again" Murphy said in shock as they looked straight ahead.

"This…."Wendy said but trailed off, simply because she was at loss of words for a moment.

Daryl just stared.

They had finally made it back to Woodbury. They had already looked forward to bringing their people medication and making them feel better again, Daryl even dared to say that he'd been hopeful for a moment.

But now this.

The herd was even bigger than the one they had seen when they had come back here, just about a week ago.
It was basically the exact same scenario, only much much worse.

"I only just got fuckin rid of 'em!" Murphy shouted angrily and pointed at the herd, completely beside himself once again because they just couldn't get home and back to Connor without any constant obstacles in their path. "I mean what te fuck is that, we…."

"Shh" Daryl said angrily and stared at the herd, the stinking, large crowd of walkers that was piling up on their walls, the gate there, the one which they wanted to get back in through. But it was impossible. Murphy was right, he'd been able to lead most of the walkers away about a week ago, but this was nothing like a week ago. The herd was much much bigger than that previous one. It didn't just pile up on their gate and raised wall, the countless walkers were also scratching away on the walls of the buildings to the wall's left and right, trying to get in, surrounding the entire South side of Woodbury like a big cloud of decaying meat. There had to be at least a hundred walkers.

"It's got to be the herd we met earlier. On our way to Fort Valley. They must've tried to follow us and kept walking straight" Wendy suggested from behind them, making Daryl bite his lip and Murphy curse and kick the dashboard. "FUCK!" Murphy shouted and stared at the scenario in front of them, making one or two walkers with better hearing look up and then turn around so they could start staggering in their direction. "They just keep fuckin comin!" the younger MacManus added and started chewing on his lips as well, his mind racing with questions, looking for possible solutions.

He knew that he could probably lead a couple of those away again, kill some, get as close to them to pick them off like no one else could, but they had wasted far too much time on their trip to Fort Valley by now and he knew that Connor needed his medicine as soon as possible.

"It's like they know we're here. Like fish in a tank, locked up, waitin t'get eaten" Daryl snarled and felt nothing but disgust for these creatures, but at the same time, for the first time, he was actually a bit scared. Not of getting eaten himself because they were inside the car and far enough away, but he was scared for their town. He could see how the walls were shaking, making it hard for the two people on watch to really walk. He believed to see Maggie and Beth on the wall there, continuously stabbing the walkers with long sticks from their position high above the undead.

But he knew that they couldn't keep doing that forever. They had never really managed to reinforce their walls. They had gathered the materials and they had made their first plans, but then the sickness had hit. And it was exactly that what made it so scary. Half their town was sick or dead, the other half was either out here looking for supplies like them, or they were in there looking after the sick and the walls. They didn't have enough forces to do all that. Fight and kill the walkers, get rid of them so the corpses won't pile up and cause even more disease and some sort of ramp for the other walkers to walk up on. They didn't have enough people to reinforce the walls at the same time.

Daryl turned his head slightly to the left and saw that more walkers were staggering in the direction of the wall, drawn in of the almost deafening moaning and growling sounds of their fellows. Like he had said: like they could sense the alive ones in there.

Murphy was right.

Fuck.

Daryl gripped the steering wheel tighter, considering what they should do. The walkers were covering the entire south wall of their town. It even looked like the herd was wrapping itself around the edges, the east and west walls. And if more of them kept coming and coming, it would only be a matter of days before they were getting surrounded. Locked inside a disease ridden town with people dying all around them, dying and turning, like a virus that was killing their cell from within and turning it into another killer itself. Possibly no real chance to get out here again, to get food.

He startled a bit when Murphy suddenly flinched and started moving like a madman, grabbing their bags and his weapons, reaching for the door.

"Use te car and try ta lure some of 'em away with noise. I'm gonna go in there, get Con and the others the medicine and then come back out here ta clear ye a path" he said and opened the door. Before he managed to get out though, Daryl suddenly grabbed his arm with a surprised "Leprechaun!" which accidentally escaped his mouth. He didn't want to call Murphy that because that nickname belonged to Connor, but for some reason it had just forced itself out because he was used to Connor making stupid self-sacrificial decisions like that, add the accent, and it was easy for Daryl to let that slip.

"What you gonna do, huh? Run at them and try to make it through that crowd? You suicidal?" he asked quickly, trying to avoid the topic.

"I got my fuckin ways, alright, why the fuck would you care, fuck off" Murphy snarled and tried to get out again, then Daryl suddenly remembered.

Last night. His trip with Connor, when they had circled to that bar.
The secret tunnel that led outside. Connor had told him about how it had been Murphy who had found it.

"Wait! What if they follow you, dumbass, that hole ain't exactly covered with steel!"

"Why te fuck do ye think I just told ye ta start a fuckin distraction maneuver, fuck, ye rednecks really are fuckin schtupid! Get going! The sooner we get tha shit done, the better!" Murphy shouted and finally managed to get out, because he just couldn't sit still any longer. He needed to do something, he had handled herds of walkers before, he had managed to get out of Boston after all.

When Daryl called after him for a third time he nearly lost his shit and yelled an angry "WHAT?" at the hunter, which made even more walkers turn around and stagger in the direction of their car. Daryl stared at the younger MacManus for a moment, teeth gritted, mouth a hard, thin line. The hunter then reached for the back of his pants and sat up a little, so he could reach for the red rag there. He then threw it at Murphy, still looking at him.

"Use it'n cover your face. Some of those lamebrains could have it as well. Might be invincible to lamebrain-sitis, sure ain't immune to this shit that knocked your bro out."

Murphy took the rag and looked at it for a moment, feeling the material with his thumb, surprised by the action. He hadn't thought about this one, he usually wasn't that good about tiny details to keep himself protected, he was all about moving and getting it done with after all.

"Hurry up, dumbass. 'm tired of seein your goddamn ugly face. Put it on, good lord" Daryl said angrily and then turned the engine back on, to make Murphy understand that the game was on. The younger MacManus did as he was told and wrapped the rag around his mouth.

"What, wait, you're really just gonna stay out here?! We could use the car to run them over, don't.. that's not..!" Wendy tried to protest from behind Daryl, staring at Murphy with wide eyes. "'ve already done it before!" Murphy shouted and then threw the two bags with medication over his shoulder, looking in the general direction of Woodbury. More and more walkers were already staggering in their direction, snarling and growling, reaching out for them, only dark silhouettes against the flood lights of their town.

"This is crazy!" Wendy shouted but then Murphy just looked at Daryl, who stared back at him with a strange look on his face, until he just gave him a slight nod. Murphy pressed his lips together a little bit, understanding the message of that nod.

Watch your ass and bring Connor the stuff he needs. You better hurry.

Murphy nodded right back and then turned around to start running.

A moment later, Daryl started honking the horn of their car like a madman, even driving right at the herd of walkers to get closer, to get their attention.

Murphy started running in the direction of the east wall, staring at the main entrance of their town from time to time. Maggie and Beth had noticed them by now, alerted by their never ending honking. Daryl steered the car towards the herd of walkers and then turned it around pretty close to the wall, using the time he was waiting for the walkers to catch up to also shout explanations at Maggie and Beth.

Murphy was getting closer and closer to their town as well, always running. He could also hear the terrifying sounds more and more, and to make it worse: actually see how bad it already was. The walls were shaking. Some of the metal planks had already been ripped off the school busses they used for their walls, the metal stripped away, piece by piece, ripped off by greedy, dead hands.

Beth and Maggie were good enough at keeping their balance up there, but Murphy knew it was just a matter of time until at least one of the busses would gain enough momentum from the constant shaking, which would ultimately cause it to really topple over. He had seen it before with less walkers, he could see the cracks in the metal shielding they had nailed directly to the walls of the adjacent houses.

it wasn't going to hold forever.

The moment Murphy managed to run around the buildings to get to the east side of the town he was surprised to see that even more walkers were piling up. All around them, it seemed. There were fewer here since most of them had gathered on the main entrance, but they seemed to be coming from everywhere, stumbling out of the woods, coming from between houses of the abandoned areas of their town, like the large herd had partially split up some miles before their town and was only getting back together again, awaiting to be fed whatever was inside the steel and brick constructions.

It had to be because of all that chaos from earlier today.

The outbreak, the gunshots, people trying to get outside with their never ending yelling at each other and the honking of car horns like Daryl was still doing it right now. They were a town filled with people. They were too noisy. In the end, it would always come to that. He had seen it in Boston, in Augusta, in Savannah. No matter how safe something seemed to be, a military base, a hospital, or this group's former prison which he had seen earlier..no matter how safe a place seemed to be, sooner or later the dead were always going to catch up on them.

The younger MacManus spent quite some time picking walkers off the east wall, anything that was close enough to his secret way in and out. Daryl was right and he knew it. It had been so easy for him to find it and sneak out because it wasn't locked up like Fort Knox. If he wasn't careful he was going to lead all those walkers right in there with him. If they could make busses shake and topple over, busses that weighed tons, then it sure as hell wasn't going to be a problem for them to sneak inside this one as well.

Murphy tried his best to kill as many walkers as possible, and it didn't take too long and he was covered in blood and guts once again. He would just keep going and tried to cleanse the entire East wall if he could, but the truth was that he was exhausted and his crippled shoulder was so clogged up that he could hardly move anyway. Besides, he really needed to get the back inside Woodbury now, not just because it was getting heavier by the second, but also because he was worried sick about Connor by now.

He had encountered four other walkers with bleeding eyes in just a short amount of time. Out here. They all had obviously been killed by the same disease. He had seen way too many people die from this already, and a part of the younger MacManus twin was actually terrified to really enter their town at the same time. What if he was too late? What if Connor had died simply because it had almost taken them an entire day to get here? If he looked closely, he could see that it was getting lighter by now. It had to be early morning, after their odyssey to Fort Valley and back, with the broken car, the thing with Terry, and now the ongoing struggle over here, too many hours had passed already.

What if Connor was dead when he got in there? Bleeding eyes and everything? About twenty hours must've passed since the initial outbreak, Murphy wondered. He had seen people die in less than four hours after showing first symptoms.

No, no, no.

Murphy killed some walkers far more brutal than necessary simply because he was scared and angry, and when he nearly lost grip of his knife and couldn't move his arm anymore at all he finally decided to face his fear and go inside. He tried his best to cover the exit as good as he could, coming to the conclusion that they should probably lock it up for good as soon as they had managed to give their people their medicine and ease the walker situation.

As soon as he was back inside their town Murphy immediately started running again, completely out of breath by now with his injured head already pounding with pain. But he kept going, for Connor, even muttering his name like a sacred mantra over and over again as he jogged towards the building, praying to god that he wasn't too late.

It was then when he heard the gunshots. Coming from inside the building.

"Fuck..fuck..fuck. CONNOR!" Murphy yelled as good, getting back into sprinting, across main street, until he nearly ran right into the door.

Everything was repeating itself. Over and over again. It was a nightmare. In this situation right here, he really regretted his decision to flee Augusta about a month or two ago.

Murphy managed to get inside the building and started shouting for Connor once more, searching the dark hallways with wide eyes. The gunshot had come from somewhere upstairs so he ran for that, heart pounding, chest heaving.

He knew that it was some wishful thinking. Even if he had stayed in Augusta and let those doctors kill him for the sake of getting into his brain to find the cause of his immunity, even then there never would've been a cure for mankind and he knew it. But right now, he wished for nothing more than that. He was getting sick and tired of all this, people getting sick all the time, people dying and turning and killing other people and infecting them, causing even bigger herds of undead like the one that was piling up on their walls right now. He was sick and tired of the never ending cycle, sick and tired of seeing all the alive ones get decimated while the dead ones grew in numbers each day.

"CON!" Murphy yelped once again, helplessly searching the halls and rattling on a few doors since he didn't have a clue which room his sick brother was in, he had never been able to visit him, he had never been able to see him after the whole Terry mess and his breaking down.

He saw one walker down one of the corridors, or more the body of one which had been shot. He instantly rand down this corridor when he saw another pair of feet in the shadows but couldn't quite make out who they belonged to. Please don't be Connor, please don't be Connor, please don't be Connor lying there, he thought as he ran for that pair of feet, and the run felt like the longest in his life. His heart seemed to momentarily stopped beating just like his breathing.

There were so many things he wanted to tell Connor, so many things he hated himself for right now. The fact that he had been such a fucking dick to his own brother for the past bunch of days, the fact that he had blocked any of Connor's efforts to apologize for something he wasn't even really guilty for. He was his fucking twin brother, and he was only just starting to understand that bond again. He wanted Connor to know that although he was still mad at him he still utterly adored him already, that he loved him to bits because he was his brother, he wanted him to know that he wanted to remember everything about them again, that he really wanted to get to know him again, that it wasn't fair if he just left him like that when they had only just found each other. Connor was his family. His everything in this fucked up world that was falling to pieces. He couldn't take another sudden and violent death like it had happened with Keith.

Murphy reached the body after what felt like hours of running down the corridor when actually, only a couple of seconds had passed.

"Conn, no no no…" he breathed and fell to his knees, only to open his eyes wide in shock.

He was staring at Glenn.

It was Glenn. Not Connor.

The Korean's was covered in blood, and Murphy only just now really realized that Sasha was there, too, coughing her lungs out, clutching to Glenn's chest as she tried to pump it.

"You….you gotta get….you gotta get help" she breathed under heavy coughs, and Murphy looked at the both of them in shock. It was looking really bad. It seemed like Glenn had passed out or was dead already, he didn't know what was going on. Murphy shakily and rapidly grabbed one of the bags and ripped it open, helplessly searching all the medical equipment they had brought from Fort Valley. He knew some stuff about the whole medicine thing, enough to keep himself alive and treat wounds, but he didn't know shit about any of this.

The younger MacManus immediately looked up again, his eyes scanning the dark floor, lingering on shot corpse of the walker that was lying there.
It looked like either Sasha or Glenn had shot the man before he had managed to seriously injure them, but the whole scenario still confused the hell out of Murphy.

"I..I don' know what 'm…where te fuck's me brother? Where's Hershel, the Doctor? Where's…."

"GLENN!" Maggie suddenly interrupted him and made both him and coughing Sasha look up.

Hershel's daughter came running at them as well, eyes wide with terror and fear. She fell to her knees right next to Murphy and reached for her fiance's head, trying to hold him steady.

"We heard gunshots, what happened?" she asked in utter shock and Sahsa tried to explain everything, but then Maggie suddenly widened her eyes even more.

"Oh my god, he's turning blue!" Maggie yelled in shock and then looked at Murphy and Sasha with wide eyes.

"We gotta help him now, hold him down! What did you find?! Please tell me you found something!"

"I…I don' fuckin know, I got this bag and I just…" Murphy yelled back, just as terrified and scared of everything. Before he could explain himself any further Maggie suddenly almost ripped the bags from Murphy's arms and shoulder and started searching it, until she found a strange tube and bag valve mask.

The younger MacManus really wanted to ask her were his brother and her father was, why no one else was here to help them, but the whole scenario was simply to hectic and chaotic, which rendered him speechless. His heart was pounding heavily and he feared he could have a heart attack from all the sudden stress, but he forced himself to concentrate because he could see and feel that Glenn was going to die in their arms if they didn't help him.

Maggie suddenly approached her fiance's mouth with the tube and Murphy widened his eyes a bit, scared of what could happen.

"Do ye even know what yer doing? D'ye think it's a good…"

But Maggie had already shoved the tube inside Glenn's throat which made him gag and cough violently, making him sound like he was suffocating.

"Hold him steady!" she commanded and the quickly applied the BVM to the tube, her hands shaking violently with fear. The younger MacManus did as he was told, eager to help but in the end, all he could do was watch in horror. Then Glenn suddenly stilled and relaxed when his fiancé started pumping the bag in a steady rhythm. From one moment to the next the whole situation suddenly calmed down, and although Maggie was still shaking and even crying a bit she kept pumping in a steady rhythm and leaned down a bit, to look her obviously terrified fiancé in the eyes.

"You're going to be okay" she breathed, trying to soothe him and calm him down.

A moment later other people suddenly came running for them, Carol, the new guy Bob, who quickly ran for still coughing Sasha's aid.

"We heard gunshots, what happened?" Carol asked as she looked at Maggie, who was still whispering calming words to Glenn.

"Jim turned…while we..were trying to look for…for the others. He managed to…he managed to get out. Glenn shot him and collapsed" Sasha forced out under heavy coughs, then Bob tried to stop her from talking so he could take care of her. Now that everything had calmed down Murphy finally knew how to move and talk again as well. He immediately got back on his feet and turned around in horror, to look at Sasha. He even tried to grab her by her arm.

"Where's Connor? Why…why wasn' Hershel her ta help ye?!" he asked, terror written all over his face because he was getting very bad vibes from all this.

"She needs to rest now. Here take this" Bob told Sasha to stop her from talking because it only made her coughing worse, but the former firefighter refused and tried to sit up a bit so she could talk to Murphy. She didn't get to speak because then they suddenly heard an incredible amount of gunshots coming from outside this time, like at least two people were firing machine guns.

Everyone widened their eyes in shock and then it was Murphy who was first to get back up on his feet. He ran inside the apartment Glenn and Sasha had collapsed in front of and had a terrified look out of the window to see what was going on.

He almost wished he hadn't done it.

He could see the chaos unfold downstairs, not in slow motion like it was happening in the movies, no, this was happening rapidly. He could see Rick and Carl down there along with Beth and another two people from Woodbury as they frantically tried to press all their weight against one of the school busses that was now standing at a dangerous angle. It looked like it was only moments from toppling over, and the younger MacManus could even hear Rick shout "IT'S GONNA GIVE IN!"

And then it happened. Rick, Carl, Beth and one of the two guys barely managed to get away when the bus finally gave in and did topple over, burying the other guy right underneath it. There was an incredibly loud sound of creaking and moaning metal as half the metal planks they had used to cover the busses with broke under the sheer force and weight, ripping parts of the wall open and sticking out like sharp knives.

The walkers on the other side immediatly started climbing all over each other, trying hard to get across the bus that was now lying on its side, making the wall only half as high as it had been before. Rick and Carl started shooting with their machine guns yet again but were forced to back off more and more, as the first bunch of walkers managed to climb over the bus and fell inside their area that had once been secure.

"Shit..shit..SHIT!" Murphy yelled and immediately started running.

"What's going on?!" Maggie asked in shock as Bob, Sasha and Carol looked at the younger Irishman in horror.

"The wall just gave in!" Murphy yelled back and started sprinting, past the doors where more turned former sick patients were already banging on, trying to break out as well. On his way down the stairs Murphy suddenly ran right into Daryl, causing the both of them to fall down with a surprised huff.

"There you are!" the hunter yelled. He and Wendy had managed to get into their town through the roof route, the one they had used before and after their trip to the big spot. They had seen the chaos unfold from up there, and he had known that there was no other choice but to get the younger MacManus with his immunity on it as well.

"The wall just fuckin gave in, we gotta hurry!" Murphy yelled, untangling their limbs and then clumsily trying to get back on his feet.

"I know dumbass,, where are the others, where's Connor?!" Daryl shouted back, in just about the same frantic panic mode as all the others.
Bob and Carol ran past them while they still tried to get back up from their crash.

"I don' know, let's just lock te place up and get fuckin goin!" Murphy simply answered and started running all over again, leaving Daryl all alone in the hallway. The hunter stared up the stairs for a moment, considering what the fuck he should do now.

He was out of breath, his heart was pounding and he was more than scared. He didn't have a clue if Murphy had brought Connor the medicine and he really wanted to make sure his friend was alright, but at the same time the noises outside told him that everything was escalating pretty quickly. More and more walkers seemed to pour into their streets, the sound of screaming and rapid gunfire getting more and more frequent.

Daryl stared up the stairs and almost ran up them because Connor mattered the most to him, but in the end, he decided not to do it. He cursed himself for doing this to his friend, cursed himself for not checking in on him and making sure he was still alive first, but the truth was that if Connor was dead by now, he didn't want to know in this very moment because he didn't know what he was going to do otherwise.

So he finally grabbed all the weapons he had and ran for the door to face the chaos outside, slamming the door shut behind himself to keep the walkers away from the sick, from his friend. And when he finally turned around to look down the street he was absolutely petrified by what he saw. More and more walkers were climbing over the bus. More and more walkers were stumbling up their formerly so clean main street.

Woodbury was getting overrun.

Most of the time he was half out of it, the sweat running down his face as he repeatedly blinked and tried to stop it from running into his eyes. The fever seemed to burn him up, but for some reason, after surviving the fever after two walker bites, he was almost used to the feel of it.

Connor let his head hang most time, staring at his own dirty, bloody jeans, wondering what the fuck was up with this constantly getting tied to a chair thing. The good part that he was actually quite used to that as well because of that. His uncle and family had taught him a lot about fighting torture back in Ireland. He knew how to handle it, and he had been through it a couple of times simply because of his and Murphy's work as the saints.

He was actually glad that Murphy wasn't here this time, though, that he was actually alone in here, with no shot Rocco or no fear of seeing someone else get shot in front of him. It felt like they were trying to use the whole isolation in complete darkness and inside in incredibly hot room as another form of 'torture' to try and get more information out of him.

He knew the deal. No food, no water, no idea where he was, what was going on or what was going to happen.
It was supposed to scare him shitless. Psychological warfare.

The truth was though, that it was anything but torture. It was actually quite calming. If it wasn't for the fever and constant coughing of course. It had gotten pretty hard for him to breathe by now, not just because of the flu but also because they had beat him up fairly well, the first method anyone always tried to get some words out of someone.

Connor had been laughing through it.

It wasn't like it hadn't hurt. Of course it had been painful as fuck. He was sure that some bones must've been broken during the procedure, the exact thing that one guy had tried to achieve anyway. They didn't just want to get more information on Woodbury from him, didn't just want to know the exact location. They had also expressed their desire to take some sort of revenge on him, because apparently, he had accidentally killed this guy Aaron during their ambush, when he had continuously slammed his face into the car door.

He'd been told that this member of the group had suffocated on his own blood because of that.

One of the reasons why Connor had been laughing. It was kind of funny in many ways. First of all, the fucker had deserved to die after what he and Daryl had witnessed. Justice served right, he had told them under his amused laughter, because he was proud of himself for taking out evil scumbags even now. Then it had also been funny because it kinda felt like the same thing was happening to him now as well, although it was a sad kind of funny.

The flu was making it harder and harder for him to breathe. His mouth wasn't just bloody from the beating but also from his inflamed lungs. He was terrified of ending up like Patrick, drowning in his own blood, and maybe this was the reason why he was laughing, to try and calm himself down, but in the end it was still really funny because he was sure of one thing:

He was going to take out these fuckers with him. He had told them that multiple times during their first attempts to get answers from him through the induction of pain, but at some point, it felt more like Connor had turned the tables on them instead, turning it into some mindfuck of his own. He told them about the flu, what it did to people and that he had it, he told them to go right ahead and keep beating, cutting and strangling him or whatever, to get covered with his blood as much as possible so they could all get a piece of the flu cake.

They had kept going for a while, trying to be tough, the kind of thing Connor was already used to. But then he managed to hit a real nerve, something that just made him laugh at the absurdity of it all even more.

What had really freaked them out and made them kind of flee under loud cursing and screaming had been when they had seen his own bite scars, right after he had managed to bite one of them. They had seen the one on his shoulder after trying to strangle answers out of him, or the scar on his arm from the first bite when they threatened to cut his artery's and bleed him out if he didn't answer.

He gave them unwanted answers instead, told them about how he had been bitten by walkers and was infected, a carrier, a ticking, biological weapon and time bomb and that it had been a foolish mistake to take him here.

Connor was all alone in here right now and it still made him chuckle, but it was a dry and slightly upset kind of sound, now that he was alone after all. It was one thing keeping up an act and being all strong to withstand torture and pain. He was actually really good at that. Getting his mind somewhere else, believing in god's protection, laughing at amateurish deeds.

But it was a completely different thing when there was no one to watch his act. The one he had to put up because of one reason after all:

He was scared.

A lot. By the minute.
The harder it got to breathe, the dizzier he got.

He was really tired for one thing. He didn't know how many hours had passed, he didn't know if it was night or day out, he didn't know much, except for one thing. He wasn't allowed to sleep in. He was doing pretty bad, no matter how much he fought it. If he slept in now he was probably going to die.

It wasn't just the beatings and constant fighting that had weakened him. The flu was still getting worse. Daryl and Murphy had gone out there looking for medicine for him. Connor smirked tiredly, no matter how scared he was. Maybe that was the reason why he was getting weaker. Not the fever, not the beatings and all that stuff. Maybe Terry had managed to do something to Murphy out there. Maybe something terrible had happened to Murphy, and the same was happening to him now because of their twin connection.

He also smiled at the thought of Daryl, because he could picture his reaction to all this. People had to know about his and Hershel's disappearance by now. Daryl had to know by now. He could see his reaction, he could almost hear him shout all sorts of things at him, like he always did when he was worried about him. Daryl would never admit that he cared a lot about him, but they both knew he did.

Maybe it was a good thing that Daryl wasn't here right now to see all this, although a part of Connor really wished for his friend to be here. He started chuckling to himself again until he ended up coughing, leaning his head back and staring at the dark ceiling as he tried to concentrate on battling the flu.

Why?! Why the fuck now?! Why you?!

He wondered the same thing. Why him? Always fucking him. But the truth was that he didn't want anyone else to take his place. Of course he wanted to go home. Of course he just wanted to tell these sick fucks right here where Woodbury was, so they could take him with them there, maybe as hostage, as leverage, although he knew about the truth.

He was dead no matter what.

He didn't want to take anyone else down with him. Not their town, not Daryl, not Murphy, not any of Rick's people.

He wasn't going to trade places. He wasn't going to tell them shit.

Connor once again clenched his fists and tried getting his tied wrists free, he even considered breaking his still fragile left hand all over again for the sake of breaking free, but this was different. This time there were no handcuffs, just some tight rope. Rope that had the ability to adjust to the pressure, to extend and ajdust itself, unlike metal cuffs. One of the many reasons why he usually liked rope after all. Now it was just a curse, and it felt like it was cutting off the blood flow in his hands which were sweaty and shaking, but at the same time felt incredibly cold. If he closed his eyes and concentrated long enough he cold focus on that cold and imagined it flowing all the way up to his feverish, burning head and throat.

Connor even swallowed hard and then coughed again but it was useless, he still felt like shit.

Maybe he was getting a bit desperate by now. Not just because he was getting worse by the minute, but also because he didn't know what they were doing to Hershel. Or what they were going to do to his people, should they somehow manage to find out where Woodbury was. He tried to blend everything out.

The pain, the fever, the worry, he tried hard to concentrate on possibilities and ideas, his always working mind trying hard to come up with a plan.

How was he going to get out of here because either the flu or those people killed him?
How was he going to flee the place, get back to his people and get himself some treatment for the flu without those people following him right back home?
Were the others looking for him and Hershel? Daryl and Murphy had to be looking for him. What if they got caught? What if they…?

No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his mind just started drifting. he'd been taught this kind of coping mechanism as well. Think of something nice. Think of something strong. He pictured all sorts of things, thought about his brother and best friend storming in here like whirlwinds, like when he, Rick and Daryl had saved Glenn and Maggie from the Governor a couple of months ago.

His mind drifted to better times, he tried to imagine what could happen if only he got out of here, if only they managed to get through all this. The possibilities, all three of them being together, maybe his feverish, slightly crazed mind even told him to just get the fuck on with it and tell Daryl how he truly fucking felt.

His otherwise strong defenses gave in for just a moment and he was well aware that he was fucking being girly about the whole thing right now, but fuck it. He was desperate. He was scared. He was tired. He wanted to be weak. He wanted to go home and just get some sleep, get some rest, forget about everything. He wanted to be with his brother, enjoy his presence because it was way too fucking early for him to die now, after he had found his brother only about a week ago. He wanted to get out of here and be with Daryl, enjoy how their relationship was developing because it was way too fucking early for him to die now, after he and Daryl had only just got started with this new thing, when they were only just getting used to the true essence of their relationship.

Connor immediately forced himself not to cough and gritted his teeth so hard he feared they were going to crack under the pressure and then pulled on the ties as hard as he could, felt the fabric of the rope cut into his wrists. His entire body was burning with pain anyway, the fever and flu almost making it feel numb, indifferent to the pain.

He just wanted to get fucking out of here, but no matter how hard he pulled…

He was too weak already. All that was left was darkness, pain, the memories, his faith.

Connor didn't know what was going on for a moment as his head snapped back up, eyes fluttering because the light in front of him was blinding him. He blinked a couple of times but it was rather slow because he was sleepy, and it took him a moment to understand that he had passed out at some point. He awkwardly tried to sit upright and raised his head, even forcing himself to smile at his hostage-takers, so he could immediately put up the act again, showing no weakness although he was weak beyond proportions now.

His defenses grumbled a bit the moment he saw what was going on this time.

The group of three men and one woman were forcing a stumbling Hershel to enter the room they kept the Irishman in, and it was the sight of the old man that made Connor unable to keep up his act for just a moment.

Although it looked like they hadn't been as hard on the old man as they had been on Connor, Hershel still didn't look good at all. He was bloody as well and had a few bruises, but even now some sort of pride and wisdom seemed to radiate from him. Hershel looked a bit shocked by the state Connor was in as well, and they quickly exchanged knowing looks, trying to communicate somehow and see if the other was right.

Connor feared that he already knew what this was going to be about and it scared him shitless, but he still tried to come across as tough and level-headed as possible. He wanted to ask them what was going on but refused to satisfy their sick need for dominance and power over others, he especially didn't want to give the woman another reason to be even more fucked up. She was really the weirdest of them all and seemed to find immense pleasure in the most fucked up things, constantly incredibly giggly, constantly moving about like a former twisted drug addict, maybe she was even a bit insane, he didn't know, all he knew was that she crept him the fuck out.

She and her boyfriend, who seemed to be the leader of the group. Even now the guy seemed to utterly adore this whacko woman who was holding Hershel in place with her large knife to his throat, they were grinning at each other for a moment, flirting with each other, obviously turned on by this sick mess they had caused, the blood they had forced out of their captives.

The leader, who was apparently named Derek, eventually stopped looking at his girlfriend and Hershel and then approached Connor, a thoughtful look on his face as he carefully knelt down in front of the Irishman and looked at nothing particular for a moment.

"Look, I don't wanna do this buddy, but you're kinda not leaving me any other choice here" he began, even placing a hand on Connor's knee to pat it as if they were good friends. Connor pulled a face in angry disgust and tried to move away.

"Fuck you" he snarled and then started moving again, trying to free himself and then just looking at the rest of the group.

"Just let te bloke go, alright? The old man's got nothin ta do with this. If ye gotta take revenge fer ye buddy then go right fuckin ahead, bring it on, but leave 'im te fuck outta this" Connor said angrily, voice hoarse from all his coughing and although it kept breaking he still sounded rather determined and dangerous. The Irishman kept fighting the rope, trying to break free even now, which just made the woman called Jessica start laughing all over again while one of the other two men, the guy who had obviously been a friend of dead Aaron, started walking, obviously ready to beat the Irishman up again for being so cheeky.

But Derek raised his hand and made the other member of his group stop in his tracks, while the leader continued to look at Connor, examining him with a curious look on his face. He and Connor had only met once before and that briefly at the very beginning of all this being captured mess, the beating and trying to get answers thing had been mostly done by other guys instead. But now Derek was right here, calmly examining Connor, still looking rather dangerous. The guy seemed to be calm, collected, maybe even smart. The more dangerous type compared to his violent and loud allies who were usually pretty easy to get. A comparison, which the Irishman certainly didn't like at all.

"You see, this isn't just about Aaron anymore,….what's your name again?"

"Fuck yerself with a rusty pole's my fuckin name, now let 'im go and handle that shit like a man, you piece of shit" Connor snarled, now simply incredibly angered by the whole situation. He couldn't even think straight anymore because he was so tired, weak and simply sick, and although he knew it was a stupid move to keep mocking them, he simply had to keep it up to show that he wasn't going to tell them shit.

Derek just continued to stare at Connor until he calmly said "Jess", which immediately made Connor widen his eyes a bit more. A second later he heard Hershel whimper and then even yelp a bit, as Jess proceeded to start cutting at the right side of his neck, causing it to bleed, getting closer and closer to his throat.

For a moment Connor forced himself not to say anything, although he watched the scenario in horror, which he couldn't hide. He knew if he was going to give in now he was just going to make it worse, the only way to keep both him and Hershel alive was not to say anything at all. Because if they did, they were both dead and they knew it.

He felt incredibly sorry for the old man and really wanted to call out, develop some crazy supernatural powers like he had somehow managed to do it with the toilet back in the nineties when Murphy had been kidnapped, to break free and rescue Hershel from this torture.

But the truth was that this wasn't about Murphy, that he wasn't strong like that anymore, and that he wouldn't stand a chance against them anyway. He managed to keep his mouth shut for about three seconds, trembling under the sheer pressure of trying to stay strong through this mess, but in the end the noises Hershel made kind of broke his will. He knew it was fucked up and unfair towards Hershel but he had been trying to test them, see if they would really pull it through or if they were just being amateurs, but now it honestly looked like they were going to cut the old man's throat.

And it were the noises Hershel made that forced the saner part of Connor's brain to try and think what he'd do if this was Murphy and not Hershel. He was split seconds away from finally calling out to stop them, thinking that they obviously weren't bluffing anymore, when Derek suddenly called out and simply and calmly told Jessica to stop, which she immediately did, although she kinda looked like she didn't want to. The woman was giggling again, like she was once again turned on by the whole, fucked up thing.

Derek eventually smiled as well and then started chuckling, which made Connor look at him in sheer disgust.

"I'm gonna kill you" the Irishman snarled, matter of factly, looking right in the other man's eyes. He was different than both his friend and brother in that regard. Murphy and Daryl would've lost their shit by now, probably start kicking and yelling at their attackers, quick-tempered and violent the both of them were. But Connor was very different in that regard, he knew that the kind of stuff like this was useless and hollow, the reaction twisted fuckers like those right here usually wanted. Wild, aggressive threats weren't going to scare them, quite the opposite, they seemed to get them off.

No, he needed to serve them the right kind of fear once again. Just like he'd been taught back in Ireland, just like he'd been taught by his own father.
Quiet and calm was dangerous. Serious was scary. Serious meant the truth.

"As soon as 'm getting outta here, and 'm tellin ye, 'm gonna get outta here, I'm gonna blow yer brains out with yer own fuckin gun" Connor said, never stopping his staring at Derek, who continued to look right back at Connor.

For a split second the Irishman believed to see a flash of actual fear in the other man's eyes. But it was happening way too fast and subtle. They were kind of made from the same cloth and they both knew it, turning the whole procedure into a whole new psychological battle of their own, something which excluded all the other people in the room.

But then Derek suddenly started chuckling again and pointed at Connor.

"They're right. I like you."

Connor blinked, momentarily surprised by the statement. Derek just continued to smirk at him and then pointed at Hershel and Jessica.

"Two inches away from your friend's carotid artery, and you don't bat an eyelash. You know, most of the time when we do stuff like that, people would have reached their ugly crying limit by now and start bargaining, pleading for their mommies….all sorts of crap.."

"Remember that one cutiepie who shat his pants?" Jessica asked and started laughing, just like the other man who snorted. "Shame, I thought he was a keeper, he was cute" the woman added, still giggling to herself and pressing her knife tighter to Hershel's throat who was gasping for breath but staring at Connor with wide eyes, shaking his head whenever they made eye contact.

It was obvious that the old man didn't want to give the location away just as much as Connor didn't want to do it. His daughters were back in Woodbury after all, and they sure as hell seemed to matter to him a whole lot more than the Irishman, just like Murphy and Daryl mattered more to Connor than Hershel did. No matter how much they hated to admit it. They cared about each other because they were part of the same group, but in the end, family always came first.

"They all break, but you didn't yet" Derek observed, eyeing Connor like he was some cow at an auction, not an actual person. Then the leader of the group suddenly got up and started walking a bit, still right in front of Connor, whose eyes flicked back and forth between him and Hershel, mind racing with possible escape plans although he couldn't come up with one. He still tried to get rid of the ties behind his back, not moving that much anymore to keep them from seeing him.

Right now he didn't even care anymore if he broke bones or tore a hand off, all he knew was that he needed to get out of here. Now. Free Hershel, stop this madness. He tried to fake interest in the conversation in the meantime, keeping a steady eye out on the others, trying to check if they could see what he was doing behind his back.

"I was gonna beat it out of the old man, but he didn't break either, you know" Derek muttered and then looked at Hershel, who stared back at him, not backing off either. "You're one tough son of a bitch. I need more people like you."

Derek walked around some more until he came to a halt in front of a wall, facing it, obviously thinking about it.

"Trouble is, we don't have any space for old people in our fair little town of Woodbury."

"Just listen to me, our town is sick, you don't want to go in there, we can.." Hershel immediately spoke up, alarmed by the fact that their hostage takers already knew the name of their town, thinking that maybe Connor had sold them out. He didn't want these people to go to their town, didn't want them to find Maggie and Beth or little Judith and all the others.

Connor immediately wanted to speak up as well as the true meaning of those words finally hit him as well, but he never got to speak anything out, because then a sudden loud and abrupt gurgling sound interrupted him.

The Irishman turned his head in Hershel's direction in horror, only to catch the last glimpses of Jessica's knife slitting his throat wide open, causing a gush of blood to spray out of the wound. Hershel and Connor stared at each other in utter shock, eyes wide open, as the Irishman saw the life force die in the old man's eyes. He could still hear the disgusting dripping and spraying of blood and the couple of gurgling sounds that escaped the severed windpipe and throat, then Hershel Greene was silenced for ever.

But Connor wasn't. He started screaming like a madman.

"NO! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" he screamed at the top of his aching inflamed lungs, completely forgetting about his cold, the never-ending urge to cough. From one second to the next he turned into a complete animal, which only got worse when Jessica just wouldn't stop but instead, went all the way through, hacking and cutting at the old man's neck until a final blow beheaded the Irishman's old friend.

Connor wouldn't stop screaming and kicking, almost making the chair he was tied to topple over. For about a minute the entire group ignored him though as the two men grabbed Hershel's headless body to drag it out while Jessica just stood there, bloody head still in her hand, holding it by Hershel's grey hair. She looked at it for a moment like it was some beautiful piece of jewelry, then she proceeded to look at raging Connor and started laughing and giggling like a madwoman, obviously amused by the whole thing. She even tried to get closer to Connor, holding the severed head out in front of her as she approached the Irishman, but then Derek suddenly stopped her.

"Let him turn and store the head. We're gonna use it later" he just said matter of factly and Jessica immediately looked disappointed, because she had obviously wanted to torture the blonde Irishman some more with the sheer look of it. Derek noticed her little pout and immediately smiled, because fuck did he love this twisted woman to bits. He approached her and gave her a loving kiss to soothe her.

"You did well babe. We're gonna have some more fun later" he assured her and then sent her off with a slap to her ass, obviously taking his time and letting Connor yell his burning lungs out some more. He was used to this sort of reaction and he couldn't blame the guy right here. No one was able to get through this, no matter how tough. He let him have his sweet screamer time, the kind of thing they loved to hear anyway.

Once Jessica had disappeared with Hershel's head as well Derek finally approached Connor, carefully avoiding any areas the Irishman could try to use and kick, scratch or bite him. He was actually quite impressed by the man's strength and liveliness. Here the Irishman was, obviously not in a good shape, sick, beat up, tortured some, but the light, the fire had never gone out inside of him.

Derek grabbed the chair and cautiously and calmly positioned it again, ignoring Connor's countless death threats, insults and violent attempts to break free and kill him. The leader of the group eventually walked around the man and then bent down a little bit, using the piece of cloth his friends had previously used to strangle the guy with to actually gag and silence him because his screaming was becoming slightly annoying by now. He then carefully bent down so they could look each other in the eye and placed a hand on the Irishman's shoulder, enjoying how he tried to flinch away from the touch and headbutt him.

"Relax…relax, man" Derek said and finally gave in to a little sick chuckle. He patted Connor's shoulder once more and smiled. "Did you really think this was about the name of your town? This is Cowetta County, buddy. We spent a year here, we know pretty much all about the area. When my guys found you around that little fire of yours, did you really think we weren't going to check out your immediate surroundings? We got maps, we got locals, we got scouts and cars, I can't believe you fell for that interrogation crap."

"Fffng ygung" Connor shouted against the gag that silenced him, mumbling other words and threats along with it that Derek could still understand but which only made him smirk even more.

"It's okay, it's okay. You passed our little test. You see, this whole location question and keeping you here was just to check you out. I was gonna drop you along with old guy the moment we found your little town, but Jess wanted to keep you so I just had to give it a go… I mean have you seen her? Damn, there's nothin I wouldn' do for this chick right there" Derek explained himself and then pointed a finger at Connor with a proud grin, patting his shoulder once more.

"Didn't believe in it at first, but you really did sell me when you wouldn't just ask us to stop hurting your old friend. You got some balls of steel. I like it. I'm sure we can make use of you."

Connor wouldn't stop yelling against the gag, wouldn't stop kicking and struggling, which only got worse when Derek placed his other hand on his other shoulder as well and made it just worse, when he started massaging his shoulders and tried to make it look even more like they were best buddies, trying to get him to relax.

The Irishman had never been this disgusted in his entire life, and his tough guy act and trying to withstand the psychological torture and be on top of it was completely forgotten. He could still see the blood on the floor, still saw the images of Hershel getting beheaded right in front of his eyes, an imagery that had completely broken him and turned him into nothing but a violent, furious animal. His wrists were bleeding from his struggle and trying to break free, his muscles were tense with sheer aggression but Derek, the gag and his sudden intense coughing fit kept him in place, almost seemed to suffocate him.

"What I need you to do now, is play along with us, pay your little town a visit and play your part. And hey, I promise you, if you play nice and all goes well, no one's gonna get hurt. You and your town in exchange for your people's lives. I'm sorry about the old man, but hey, you need to get the message, and so do they. We want them all to be nice and surrender. We gotta save the ammo. Going in there guns blazing all the time's just not worth it. And judging from the looks of it, your town's pretty big. Maybe we can keep some more people while we're at it, the women for example. Someone's gotta keep them protected after all, hm" Derek said and then winked at Connor, only to finally let go of him.

He then gave him an almost playful and not too hard slap to his check as some sort of fucked up goodbye message and then turned around to head for the door, leaving the Irishman alone in the room all over again, leaving him to a constant repetition of the images of Hershel dying right in front of him, the blood on the door and floor, the spot he was forced to keep looking at now.