setting: episode 5 "Chupacabra"

Salvation

Chapter 9 - Wounds

Daryl decided to steal a horse. He had grown up on a farm so riding a horse was no big deal. He preferred it in fact. He spent quite sometime getting the animal ready. Once he'd saddled it he leaned against the horse for a moment to think about everything that had happened today. He didn't know why he was so angry with Connor, or why he was scared. Right now he didn't know how to feel about the whole thing in general. A man had tried to kill himself today. He had heard of many people taking their life these days, for obvious reasons, but he had never really cared about it before. With Connor it was strangely different.

Maybe it was because he knew him a bit more, maybe because the Irishman had been with him every second of the past four days. Part of him had gotten used to him. Although he was still annoying the crap out of him. Daryl felt that he had kind of accepted Connor by now. He wouldn't call him a friend though because he didn't do friends. He didn't need friends. Or anyone. It was just that he had gotten used to Connor's presence and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, the dumbass was just as good as him when it came down to hunting and killing walkers. He had to admit that they were a good team. They were both survivors, outsiders, killers, which just made them some sort of partners by default.

Maybe this was the reason why he was overreacting now. Daryl shook his head let out an angry sigh. It wasn't his job to worry about the dumbass, and he most certainly wasn't here to think about his stupid suicide attempt now. Yah came here t'get a horse and search for the kid, not to go all Oprah on that stupid leprechaun, jackass, he thought and got on the horse to start searching for Sophia.

Connor had fallen asleep pretty soon after Daryl had left. Truth was that he was incredibly tired. He hadn't slept much during the last couple of months. Maybe one or two hours every night. On the one hand because it had been too risky, on the other hand because he was always busy mourning his brother. The strangulation and near death experience had done the rest. Much to his surprise it was the first time he could sleep on without having a nightmare of living through Murphy's death over and over again. He dreamt of sleeping in their old and shitty apartment in Boston. It was a memory. He remembered that night clearly.

It had been their second night in Boston and he couldn't sleep so he turned his head and watched his brother. Murphy slept like a log so he couldn't complain about Connor staring him down. He had been so proud of Murph. For staying with him although he absolutely hated their new home. He had come to America because it had been Connor's wish and because he would never leave his brother. The older twin had always dreamt of the big American cities. He had always wanted to flee Ireland. Now he missed it. He remembered the night he had told Murph about his plans. That he wanted to go to America on his own. Simply because he didn't want to force his twin into anything he didn't want. He had been glad when Murphy told him that he wanted to come with him. He missed Ireland a bit but in the end Murphy was what he called 'home'. No matter where they were, whether it was a shit hole in Boston or their old house in Ireland, as long as it was him and Murph, he would always be home. He smiled tiredly and affectionately as he watched his brother sleep. He'd always felt so lucky and honored to have him as brother. He was his soul mate. They would manage their life in Boston. They would always manage anything they wanted.
As long as they were together.

Connor woke up about two hours later and blinked tiredly. For a moment he was confused and didn't know where he was, most importantly where his brother was, but when he turned on his side and saw a picture on the wall he remembered. The farm. The apocalypse. Walking dead people. Right.

The Irishman got up slowly and groaned when his head hurt and his vision blurred. He rubbed his forehead tiredly and cursed, only to croak once more. His throat was bone-dry and hurt like hell. Connor moved his hand further down to rub his aching neck. He could feel where the rope had strangled him and burned his flesh, and right now it felt like it was still wrapped around his neck. What a stupid fucking idea. Maybe Murph was right about the fuckin rope, he thought and shook his head.

It took him a while to wake up, and when he tried to get up he noticed his rosaries and a glass of water on the night stand. He took it and drank it eagerly, then he grabbed his two rosaries and put them around his neck. Where they belonged. Connor hissed when they touched the bruises on his neck. He sighed and put his hand on his stomach, right where the two crosses were. It felt both good and slightly terrifying to have them around his neck. Good because he was used to wearing them and felt naked without them, and terrifying because anything around his neck would remind him of what he had done, how horrifying the whole strangling and hanging had really been. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about it, but it didn't really work. Every now and then it was coming back to him like a flashback. The shock and sudden incredible pain in his neck after he had jumped, his feet in the air, the fighting..He glared at his feet for a moment and tried to focus because it was so hard to forget these images. Connor sighed and shook his head. There was one image in particular. One image that wouldn't leave his mind. Right when he had almost passed out because of the lack of oxygen and he had seen this face. How relieved he had been. How happy. Right then he had known that it had been a foolish mistake to try and kill himself. No matter how many times his brother's doppelganger was telling him to fuck off and leave him be, even that couldn't stop him from believing in it now. First the angel wings, now his rescue. Daryl just had to be a sign.

Connor got up to leave the room and search for the man who had saved his life. As soon as he entered the dinning room he almost ran into Herschel and his daughter Maggie, who were arguing about something. Herschel's daughter was setting up plates and cutlery and especially the farmer didn't seem too fond of it. Neither of them noticed Connor, who was standing right behind the farmer and couldn't get through because of it.

"Well I didn't think it was that big a deal. They want to thank us for helping them" Maggie said and looked at her father, who leaned in to speak to her more privately.

"We need to be setting clear boundaries with these people. They're getting a little too comfortable. Taking our beds with all their injured people, invading our houses and stables without asking, spoiling our soil with blood and sins..." Connor raised an eyebrow because he knew that Herschel was talking about him. He decided to let them know that he was right behind them, so he cleared his throat and tried not to wince when it hurt. The farmer turned around in surprise and his daughter looked up.

"Sorry, I just wanted t'get out, fresh air and all that. Thanks fer...y'know, taking care af me and all dat..." he said and tried to make his way around Herschel.

Maggie let go of the plates and eyed him.

"You sure you should be walking around? Maybe you should rest for a bit."

Connor snorted and shook his head, which he regretted because it didn't do his neck any good.

"Nah, 'm fine" he said and gave her his most charming smile, but he could tell that she wasn't buying it.

He walked past the small family to get out of the farmhouse, simply because he hated how everyone was staring at him.
He was on his way out when he could hear how Maggie and Herschel resumed their discussion.

"It's just dinner!" Maggie exclaimed.

"What's going on with you and the Asian boy?" Herschel asked and Connor snorted.

He found it both amusing and annoying how much of a control freak the old farmer was.

He wasn't surprised when he couldn't find Daryl outside and figured that the hunter had left to search for Sophia on his own. Connor still felt a bit dizzy and weak on his feet because of his near-death experience, but there was no way he was going back in. He needed to do something, simply because he hated to lie low and think about everything that had happened to him during the past couple of months. He spotted Andrea on top of the RV with a rifle in her hands. When he saw how she was holding the gun he figured that maybe she needed someone to teach her. He searched his pockets for smokes and a lighter and cursed when he remembered that he had stored them in his bag in the tent.

"Looking for something?" he heard Andrea ask and looked up.

The former lawyer was standing on top of the RV and put the rifle down. Connor chuckled and grinned.

"You don't have any smokes on you, do ye?"

Andrea raised an eyebrow and turned around so she could face him.

"Shouldn't you give your lungs a break?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes and started to climb up the ladder of the RV.

"Jesus, you people aren't gonna leave me be with this shit now, are ye?"

When he reached the top of the vehicle he saw Andrea standing there and smirking at him. She offered him a hand.

"Don't worry, I won't bother you like the others. I've been there myself."

Connor got up and sorted his clothes.

"Aye, Carol said something about that. First day I met you people" he murmured and reached out.

"Mind giving me this thing so I can have a look meself?" he asked and pointed at the gun.

Andrea frowned and looked at the weapon as well. Connor snickered.

"Come on, 's not the first time yer giving me a gun. Didn't shoot ye last time, did I?"

Andrea shrugged and handed him the gun. The Irishman took it and inspected it.

"Nice. Yers?"

The blonde laughed and shook her head.

"No, it's Dale's. It's Glenn's turn to watch over the camp, but I wanted to help."

Connor nodded and lifted the gun up to point it somewhere and peek through the sight.

"Can you forgive Daryl for what he's done?" Andrea asked after a while of just watching him and the Irishman looked up.

"What?"

"That he took that opportunity away from you. Can you forgive him?"

Connor put the gun down and frowned.

"Why are ye asking?"

Andrea folded her arms and turned her head. They both could see how Dale was approaching the RV.

"I don't know. I just thought that we're kind of in the same boat. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too hard on Dale."

Connor put both his hands on his hips and nodded.

"Right. Carol told me that Dale saved yer life when you were done."

Andrea nodded and looked at the old man for a while.

"What about you?"

Connor turned around to point the gun at the trees and looked through the sight again.

"I don't know" he murmured and shrugged.

"I sappose"

"What's with the Annie Oakley routine?" they heard Dale ask and looked at him again.

"I don't want to wash clothes anymore, Dale. I want to help keep the camp safe. Is that alright with you?"

Connor put the gun down and nodded.

"Aye, and I wanna make sure she doesn't shoot any of us while doing so."

Dale just looked at them and frowned.

"Shouldn't you be in bed and rest for a bit? After what I've heard.."

The Irishman growled and rolled his eyes.

"Already said 'm fuckin fine. Jesus, 'm gonna live."

The old man eyed Andrea for a little bit longer and then walked on without answering. Andrea snorted and shook her head, then she grabbed the gun to get it back.
Connor raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"After you" he murmured and Andrea sighed.

"Yeah. Like I said. I'm having a hard time with Dale."

She looked through the sight and gasped.

"Walker!"

Connor widened his eyes and leaned down to take the field glasses. He could see a small figure emerging from the woods but it was hard to tell if it really was a walker because the sun was blinding him. Andrea took aim and squeezed one eye shut.

"Just the one?" Rick asked and came running which made Connor turn around and look at him.

"I can't fuckin tell, but looks like it."

"It's just the one" Andrea confirmed and took aim again.

"I bet I can nail it from here" she added and Connor frowned.

"No fucking way?"

"No Andrea. Put the gun down. You'd best let us handle this" Shane said and joined them with T-Dog.

Both men were carrying hatchets and baseball bats. Rick shook his head.

"Shane, hold up. Herschel wants to deal with walkers."

"What for man? We got it covered"

T-Dog, Shane, Glenn and Rick started running to get the walker with their blunt weapons. Connor was unsure at first.

He knew it would be easier for him to just shoot the walker from where he was standing, but he knew that Shane was right. They couldn't risk the gun shot.
He eyed Andrea because it looked like she didn't seem too fond of it.

"Don't you fucking dare shooting that gun now" he warned her and turned around again to look where Dale was.

When the old man climbed up the leader he decided that it wasn't his job to have an eye on her anymore, so he growled and got down.

"Where are you going?" Dale asked and Connor walked right past him to get his knife out of his tent.

"'m gonna help 'em" he murmured and made sure that it was sharp enough and ready to use.

"You've just survived a suicide attempt, you could pass out" Dale tried to reason with the Irishman but Connor just snorted.

"Te fuck 'm gonna do" he answered and started running after the policemen and T-Dog.

Half way across the field he had to realize that maybe everyone had been right after all. He tried his hardest to keep his pace, but it was impossible to run because he could hardly breathe. Connor ended up jogging towards the walker and Rick, and when he was almost there he saw that the other men were already there. What was the most confusing thing about it all was that they were just standing there. Standing and talking.

"Is that Daryl?" he heard Shane ask and widened his eyes in shock when he heard that name.

Daryl? A walker? Murphy?

He cursed and started running again.

Don't let him be a walker. I'm begging you.

"It's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head. You gonna pull the trigger or what?"

Connor let out a relieved sigh when he heard that voice. He had finally caught up with them and came to a halt right next to Shane,
who turned and looked at him in surprise. The Irishman was completely out of breath and leaned down to gather himself.

"Jesus fucking Christ. You scared the living daylights outta me" he panted and Shane frowned.

"T'hell are you doing here?"

Connor got back up and looked at the policeman.

"Helpin you folks? Te fuck you think 'm doing here?"

"Shouldn't you.." Glenn began but Connor interrupted him mid sentence.

"If I hear that sentence one more fuckin time 'm gonna.."

A loud gunshot startled them all and made them duck down. A second later Daryl fell to the ground.

"NO!" Rick shouted and turned around to look back at the camp, trying to make out whoever had fired the shoot.

Connor widened his eyes in shock and darted forward, yelling incoherent things himself. All he could see was the man with his brother's face on the ground, covered in blood. It was like it was happening all over again. "NO!" Rick shouted once more and it was like he was voicing everything that was going through the Irishman's head. In a matter of seconds he was right next to Daryl and placed both his hands on his chest to feel his heartbeat. The hunter was still breathing, but there was so much blood everywhere that he didn't really know for how much longer it was gonna be this way.

"Murph! Murph! Come on Murphy, can ye fuckin hear me!" Connor yelled and tried not to hyperventilate, which was harder than he thought.

For one because his injuries from his suicide attempt were making it very hard to breath, and also because it was reminding him too much of that night when he had lost his brother. He turned around in panic and looked at the other men. "We need ta fucking do something! He's fuckin hurt!" Connor yelled and looked at Rick in horror. Then it really hit him. The blood on his hands, the injuries and that face..it was like a flashback. He felt his heart beginning to race. He was in Boston again. Murphy. Pain. Blood. The walker, biting his neck. The sound of tearing flesh. Murphy's eyes, dead and milky. His groans and moans. The shot. He didn't really know what was going on for a couple of minutes because the panic and shock wouldn't allow him to think clearly. He barely noticed when Rick and Shane knelt down next to Daryl to grab him by his hands and lift him up. Murphy. In his mind he was screaming that name over and over again. Murphy. For a second Connor just sat there, unmoving and staring. Daryl breathed in sharply and moved all of the sudden. The two policemen managed to get him back up on his feet and the hunter panted heavily, still bleeding and groaning in pain.

"I was kidding!" he murmured and that seemed to snap Connor out of it.

No, it wasn't happening again. Daryl was alive, his eyes were blue and not milky and he wasn't bit.

The Irishman got back up and went after the other members of the group so he could place himself between Daryl and Shane, who was quite surprised when he was being pushed away. "'s alright, I've got 'im" Connor murmured and the policeman just looked at him, then he snorted and followed them.

"'s okay Murph, we're gonna stitch ye back together, just hold on, aye?"

Daryl growled and rested his head against Rick's chest.

"It's Daryl, yah freak" the hunter murmured and nearly passed out again because of the blood loss. Connor chuckled.

"Well, ye can still complain and insult me, see? Looks like we don't have ta worry after all. Just, come on, just another couple of steps, you can do it brother!"

"Shut up" Daryl responded weakly, then his eyes rolled back.

As they made their way back to the farmhouse the rest of the group came running towards them with Andrea having the lead.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Is he dead?!" she shouted and Connor looked up to glare at her.

"Unconscious" Rick responded and Andrea stared at bloody unmoving Daryl in horror.

She wanted to place a hand on him, but Connor grabbed her hand and shoved her away.

"Back off. I fuckin told ye not t'shoot! You nearly killed 'im!" he spat and Andrea looked at him in surprise.

"You just grazed him" Rick calmed her down and eyed Connor, who didn't seem calm at all.

"But look at him...what the hell happened, he...he's wearing ears!" Glenn exclaimed and pointed at Daryl's chest.

"What?" Connor asked and frowned. When he looked down he saw the bloody ears, which Daryl had wrapped around his neck with something that looked like shoelaces.

The Irishman cringed and shook his head.

"Ew. Jesus, Murph."

Rick grabbed the necklace and pulled it off.

"Let's keep this to ourselves."

"Guys!" they heard T-Dog shout and turned around.

He was holding a doll up in the air and looked at them with wide eyes.

"Isn't that Sophia's?"