setting: between episodes 6 " Secrets" and 7 "Pretty Much Dead Already"

Salvation

Chapter 13 - Night Watch

When they finally returned back to camp it was already getting dark outside. Connor returned to Daryl's tent to get changed and greet his friend after not seeing him for pretty much half the day, but was surprised to find the tent empty. The Irishman frowned and scratched his head. Daryl's crossbow was nowhere to be seen, and neither were his knife or any of his weapons. Had he really been so stupid to go out and search for Sophia on his own? With that kind of injury? Connor felt very uneasy about it and it made him nervous. He knew that Daryl wasn't Murphy, but at the same time he just couldn't really trick his instincts that were still telling him: Where is your brother. Your brother is not here. You've got to look after him. The Irishman got changed and searched for a new cigarette pack. He cursed when he realized that it wouldn't take long and he'd be running out. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. He got out of the tent to search for Daryl and it didn't take him long to find him. He saw the hunter sitting on top of the RV, with his crossbow in his hands. It looked like he was on watch. Connor got closer to the vehicle and frowned.

"Hey Murph, what are ye doing? Aren't yer sapposed ta rest?"

Daryl turned his head to look at him. He just shrugged and looked away again.

"Screw yah, I don't care" Connor heard him mutter.

He climbed up the RV and joined Daryl.

"Night watch?" he asked and put his hands in his pockets.

Daryl just nodded and eyed him for a moment. Connor frowned.

"What?"

"Still ain't dead yet? Christ, yer annoying."

The Irishman snorted and sat down next to the hunter. For a moment he just stared across the fields and scratched his aching neck.
Then he grabbed two smokes from his pocket. He flashed Daryl one and the other nodded after a moment, so Connor lit up both cigarettes and handed him one.

"How's te wound?" Connor asked after a while and Daryl growled.

He hated it when people asked him how he was. He wasn't used to it. No one had ever cared about him.

"Just a scratch."

"Right."

Connor looked at Daryl after a moment and smirked.

"When I got shot it fuckin hurt like hell."

Daryl cleaned his crossbow and inhaled a big cloud of smoke and when he blew it out he sighed.

"Yeah."

"Gets better after a week or two."

The two men remained quiet for a while and finished their smokes.
When Connor lit his second one Daryl felt comfortable enough and tried to keep the conversation up.

"When did yah get shot then? Today?"

Connor scratched his neck again and coughed.

"Very funny. Nah. Got shot a couple of times. First time back in te 90s when me and Murph got started. Funny thing was, 't was our father back then who shot us. He had no idea and we had no idea. And then last year. The day Murph and I got caught. There was a big firefight. Guns and shit..about 20 mobsters attackin us. We barely made it. They got our Da though. And our friend, Romeo. Got shot in te shoulder, leg and stomach. Me and Murph."

"I'm sorry..about your father" Daryl said.

"Comes with te job title" Connor just said and took another drag on his smoke.

"Broken bones, cuts and bullet wounds. All te time" he added after a while and sighed.

Daryl snorted when he remembered his similar past and injuries. Connor looked up and frowned.

"Ye think that's funny?"

"No..just...reminded me of something."

"And what's dat?"

"Doesn't matter."

"So yer talkin about yer scars then, aren't ye" Connor murmured and eyed Daryl curiously. The hunter ignored him and continued cleaning his crossbow.

"One af yer parents I assume" the Irishman went on and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Shut up."

"Father I'd say by te looks of it."

"I said shut the fuck up" Daryl spat and shoved Connor.

"Bullseye" the blonde responded and fell back with a gentle laugh.

"One more word and I'll kill yah" Daryl warned him and Connor sighed.

"Alright. Ye don't have ta tell me if you don't want ta."

"Yeah, exactly" the hunter answered and snorted.

"Talking about shit's good though. Helps most of te time" the Irishman murmured and threw his cigarette away.

This made Daryl look at him in disbelief.

"Yeah right, why don't yah fuckin start then, how come yer crying yah eyes out every night, huh? Yah wanna talk about that?"

Connor snorted and avoided his gaze.

"Don't know what yer talkin about."

"Every night, same time, I wake up and hear yah cryin next to me. Miserably. Don't deny it, it's been like that for five fuckin days."

"So?"

"Why won't yah ever stop?"

"Because my fuckin twin brother's dead, okay?! He was the most important person in my whole fuckin life, so af course I mourn his death every fuckin night when I wake up from another nightmare af seeing him dying. Every. fuckin. Night!" Connor yelled with eyes burning with anger and hatred. He got up and headed for the ladder.

"Yer a fuckin cold bastard, that's what yer. So you can't sleep, you should get a little perspective here.
You don't know shit about what it feels like ta lose yer brother. You egoistic fucker" he murmured and lit another cigarette on his way back.

"I didn't fuckin ask yah because I can't sleep. Yeah of course I can't sleep because of yah stupid cryin every night but that's not the point. I lost my brother, too!
And I ain't cryin every fucking night. 's too much t'ask for when I say that I want yah to stop that shit?"

"Fine, I'll fuckin sleep somewhere else so Mr Asshole can enjoy his sleep" Connor spat.

"I don't want yah t'stop because of me not sleepin but because of you yah, stupid freak!"

Connor stopped and turned around. He was laughing angrily.

"What?"

"It's pissing me off that yah so fuckin sad, alright? Jesus, there, I said it, so calm the fuck down with yah stupid Irish hothead."

Daryl turned his back on Connor and concentrated on his crossbow. After a while the Irishman came back to him and sat back down again.
For a very long while they were quiet and especially Connor needed some time to process everything.

"Are ye actually sayin ye care about me?"he asked after a while and Daryl just snorted.

Then, when Connor didn't expect an answer any more, Daryl answered.

"I cut yah stupid rope, didn't I."

At the mention of the rope Connor started laughing. He remembered Murphy's hatred for his rope plans. He had always called his ropes stupid.

"What the hell's wrong with yah" Daryl muttered and Connor took a deep breath.

"Oh it's just..Murphy always hated my ideas. Especially when they involved a rope."

"Well, he would've loved yer latest rope idea" Daryl muttered and Connor sighed.

"He would've cut me loose and then he'd kicked the shit outta me and then he'd have killed me fer it."

"I would've helped him."

Connor rubbed his neck and nodded.

"Yeah. I bet."

He finished another smoke and they kept on watching the farm. They were on top of the RV for over an hour now.

"So what happened ta yer brother?" the Irishman asked quietly and Daryl sighed.

"I dunno. Rick cuffed him to a rooftop and left him there. When we went back for him he wasn't there any more. Cut off his own hand that tough fucker."

"So he's still alive?"

"Maybe" the hunter murmured and looked up to check for walkers.

"D'ye miss him?" the Irishman asked and Daryl looked at him.

He raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"He's my brother."

"Right. So, you practically lost yer brother, too?"

The hunter nodded and looked away again.

"Practically."

"Well then, I could..."

"Don't even think 'bout it. How many times do I have t'tell yah" Daryl interrupted him and Connor growled.

"Alright. Jesus."

They didn't speak for a while and Connor took his cigarette pack to count his remaining smokes. Three. Just three. And he had no idea where to get any new ones.
This was the down side of living far away from big cities. Less walkers, but also less cigarettes. Christ. But he needed them.

"So how did yah lose yer brother then?" Daryl asked and the Irishman looked up.

Connor just stared at him for a while, then he turned his head and looked away again.

"Aren't that many walkers out here, don't ye think? Real fuckin quiet" he murmured and Daryl snorted.

"So what, yah can ask questions and I can't? And yer calling me an egoistic fucker."

"I just don't wanna fuckin talk about it, okay? What do ye think, how I fuckin lost 'im. I already told you. I'm from fucking Boston. Big city that is.
Big city with a shit ton of walkers. So you kinda get te picture"

"So he got bit then?"

Connor glared at the man next to him.

"What part of "I don't wanna talk about it" don't ye fuckin understand? Are yer really such a fuckin hillbilly?"

Daryl growled and got up.

"Fuck you, yah mick. Keep yer shit t'yerself then, don't care anyway."

"Then stop fuckin bringing it up."

"Why, gonna hang yerself otherwise? Better keep doing it then, asshole, cos yer annoying the crap.."

He received a punch right in the face for that and bit his tongue because he hadn't been finished talking yet.
Before Daryl could throw a punch back at him Connor was already back on his feet and headed for the ladder.

"Fuck you" he murmured and left.