EPISODE 25 – When the Dead Come Knocking – Part I

He comes in and out of consciousness the rest of the day and the whole night. We carried him back in the cell block with us. I installed him on a bed and try to feed him, little by little, each time he opens his eyes. I dragged a mattress on the floor by his side for myself. Sive agreed to get on the top bunk, and still watches him like a curious creature. The others are giving us space, and I'm glad I don't need to fight with Rick about him yet. I guess my saint isn't considered a threat in this state.

The next afternoon, when he has finally regained some strength, I boil some water in a big pot, and bring a basin in the cell.

"Time for a bath, mister."

He chuckles faintly. "I guess it's more than due time." And insists on getting in there by himself.

It takes him forever to get naked and shakily inside. He's never been shy, though I let a cloth rest on his nether regions. We're alone here, but the cell door is open. Even if we closed it, it's only bars. Hershel is still resting a few stalls away, watched by his daughters. The others are cleaning up the area.

Connor sits back in the basin and shuts his eyes for a second, catching his shorten breath. So, I lather the sponge with soap and warm water, then let it rest on his shoulder. His eyes shoot open and fixate on me. Though I avoid them. I just start washing him thoroughly, examining his weakened body.

He's going to be alright. If he eats properly, he's still in good shape. The huge Jesus tattoo on his back, the one he got not long before leaving Ireland again, is giving me chills. After they'd gone, the thought of that new tattoo had haunted me, like a bad premonition. As if Murphy and him were going to die for our sins as well.

Though he's here. And there, on his chest, the small triskele tattoo that all three of us share. I let my thumb graze over it wistfully. One of us is missing. I still have trouble swallowing the lump in my throat; I can't take my eyes off it.

Thus, I feel his fingers tenderly brushing over mine before squeezing my hand, showing me the word 'Veritas' there, over his heart. When our eyes meet, we both know exactly what the other is thinking. Who we're thinking about.

"Maybe-"

"Ye don't know how it is out there," I interrupt before he can say anything too hopeful.

"I know, but…" he trails off by himself.

"I know, Connor." We both know. If God is still protecting them, then Murphy is somewhere out there. And eventually… But if God has abandoned them, if Connor's survival is only mere luck. Well then, there isn't much hope, is there? The problem is: how are we to know?

"Have faith," is his answer. But he hasn't seen what the world has become. He doesn't know it has been forsaken by Our Lord.

He straightens up to softly caress my cheek, and I close my eyes. He lets his fingers run through a strand of my hair.

"Remember when we used to give each other sponge baths every day, love?" he changes the subject.

When we had just moved in that barn in the country, on our little hill. There wasn't any running water before we managed to install the pipes. We never even got electricity there.

The tattooed hand on mine trails up my arm, barely grazing my skin. And I get a glimpse of his smile and the spark in his eyes. At the time, we couldn't go through one of those baths without ending up, well, paying extra care to some more sensitive areas. I grin back. Just the memory of it is enough to awaken every nerve in my body.

Someone clears their throat behind me.

I jump and spring on my feet, promptly turning to find, of-—fucking—course, Daryl already looking away.

"Um. Sorry. Rick wanna clear a path to the guards room. We kinda need ya to-"

"Of course." I cut in. Then I turn briefly back to Connor with my most neutral voice: "Think ye can finish up by yerself here?"

"Aye. No problem."

So, I exit swiftly, thinking I might be able to smother my awkwardness by fleeing.

Sive is sitting with Beth in Hershel's room. Glenn is staying with them in case the worse happens. For everyone else, it's all hands on deck. Lori, Maggie and Carl are outside watching the fences. So it leaves Rick, T-Dog, Carol, the two inmates, Daryl and me to clear out a whole sector.

Though, once again, following Rick's plan, we advance little by little, as safe as can be. And we also end up finding the room where are stored all the prisoners' personal stuff.

"Alright," Rick sighs, satisfied. "It's all sealed off on this side."

"Go ahead then," I tell them, then add under their questioning looks: "I'll just look around here, see if I can find something useful."

"There's usually just clothes and money in there."

"Ye never know…" And they leave me alone. I go through the compartments, dismayed to find they're not filed by names but by inmate numbers.

"Here." I jump in surprise at Daryl's voice. He never left, and he's pointing at a bag. "Same number as on his uniform."

I blush in shame that he figured what I was doing. He's more perceptive than me; I've never paid any attention to that number. I guess he's observed Connor more carefully than I thought.

"I-" I start. But he's never been easy to talk to, and I'm a coward: "How are ye doing?"

He shrugs. As if it didn't matter.

"Daryl, we should talk."

"What is there to talk about?" he mumbles without missing a beat.

Well, we should definitely talk; although I have no idea what to say. I certainly wouldn't want to lose him. After all we've been through, after that winter and those moments we shared a few days ago. He feels like my rock. The one I can turn to. For safety, for comfort. But also, I wanted him to be able to turn to me as well. I hoped he could come to trust me as I trust him. And when I look at him now, I know that I've come to care for him, way more than I'd planned to. Not to mention that fucking undeniable attraction.

However. Well, Fuck. How can that be compatible with Connor? Am I supposed to choose? But that's preposterous. I've loved Connor since I was a child. He and Murphy have been everything to me for as long as I can remember. And that's not going to change. Hell, if I had even thought there was the slightest chance they were still alive then, even despite caring for Daryl, despite the attraction, I would have never acted on it. And I would have never made him think that… That what exactly? The truth is I have no idea what he thinks.

I just know that people like him, like me, don't open that often. So, when that happens, it's precious and fragile. And I'm going to ruin it.

Now I've been staring at him in silence for too long, and he just turns away to start up the corridor. Seeing him leave like that, I suddenly feel like this is it. That he has made the choice for me. And I've already lost him.

"Daryl, please-"

Though I'm cut off by the deafening sound of an alarm.

"What the f-"

And walkers start pouring down the corridor, blocking our only way out.