New chap! So I'm up to 2.12 now. Better Angels. Dear god.

setting: episode 12 "Better Angels"

Salvation

Chapter 32 - Farewell

Connor woke up the next morning because he had a terrible headache.
He groaned and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. For a moment he wondered if everything that had happened yesterday night had been a dream, but his throbbing temple and the bruise on his forehead told him something else. So it had really happened. Dale was dead. Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl who was sleeping next to him. The Irishman sighed and got up. They hadn't talked after Dale's death. Not only because they were shocked, but also because Connor had been mad at Daryl for knocking him out like that. The Irishman got out of the tent and checked their surroundings for walkers. It was strangely quiet this morning. Quiet and cold. Connor went back inside the tent to grab his pea coat.

He was just getting dressed when Daryl woke up and shifted. They looked at each other, but neither of them would speak. Connor growled and left the tent without saying a word. Daryl sighed and shook his head. He felt sorry for what he'd done yesterday, but that Connor was so resentful this time really pissed him off. He got changed inside their tent and when he got out he saw Connor leaning against the old chimney by the ruin. The Irishman had a smoke in his hand and stared into nothingness. Daryl just watched his friend for a moment and then came to join him. He placed himself right next to the Irishman and looked the way Connor looked.

"What's up with yah, bitchy?"

His friend snorted.

"You really need t'ask me that?"

Daryl growled.

"Oh come on yah retard, 's not the first time I punched yah in the face."

Connor turned his head and narrowed his eyes.

"It's nat that. You fucking know why. I mean af course, you knocked me out with a fuckin plank, that ain't no picnic. But I'm nat talking about that."

"Then what is it?" the hunter asked and Connor got even more pissed.

"You were bout ta kill that kid. Although I asked you not to do it. Although Rick told us ta wait. You would've betrayed the whole group like that."

"He's still alive. Get over it" Daryl answered and looked away.

Connor growled and placed a hand on his forehead. The headache was killing him. He took a long drag on his cigarette and turned his head.

"Besides. Maybe yer right. Maybe it's yer stupid god's will" Daryl said.

When his friend wouldn't answer he went on.

"I mean that's the second time something happened when we're just about t'ditch that fucker. Maybe yer right."

Connor snorted.

"I don't' even know any more."

Daryl frowned.

"What?"

The Irishman didn't say anything for a very long while.

He was scared of speaking it out. Because it was ridiculous.

"I'm starting to lose faith" he said quietly and Daryl snorted.

"Are yah kiddin me? You? Mr massive cross on my arm, Mr Jesus Christ on my back?"

Connor didn't say anything and kept smoking so Daryl stared at him.

"Why?"

The Irishman sighed.

"Loads af reasons. Loads af shit."

"Then start talking."

Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl for a while, somewhat hoping that the hunter was just kidding him. Making fun of him. But Daryl didn't look like it.
He was honestly waiting for him to talk.

"I've seen a shitload af people dying in Boston. All my friends, good people. We were looking after a kid, and she got eaten right in front of our eyes. Then Murph got bit. I had to fuckin shoot him,man. Then you guys lost yer girl and she died as well. Now Dale's dead, I've almost killed a fuckin teenager, and yer going dark side."

He turned his head and looked at the farmhouse.

"Just like a said. Loads af shit."

"I ain't going dark side" Daryl murmured which made Connor snort.

"You've tortured the kid. You wanted to fuckin guthim in that shed."

"Yeah but not because it's my sick pleasure or some crap like that."

"Yeah af course, you looked like it."

Daryl shoved him hard and turned around to leave.

"Y'know what? Screw yah. I don't need this bullshit."

They buried Dale right next to Sophia and all the other bodies from the barn. The group gathered around their graves later that morning and Rick said their final goodbyes. Daryl stood a bit away from others again and just looked at the graves. Lost in thoughts. When he saw Sophia's grave he felt guilty all over again.

"Dale could get under your skin" Rick said after a while and Daryl looked up.

"He sure got under mine. Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought."

The hunter tried not to snort. It was so true. Most of the time the old man had annoyed the crap out of him with all his epic long speeches.

"How he felt. That kind of honesty is rare...and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had.
We've all seen it one time or another."

Daryl remembered the last time he'd been given that special look. Just yesterday. When the poor bastard had asked him to side with him.

"I couldn't always read him but he could read us. He saw people for who they were."

Torturing people? That isn't you! You're a decent man!

Daryl took a deep breath. Just thinking about these words gave him goosebumps. It had scared the shit out of him when Dale had told him that. Looked right through him. A while ago Connor had been the one doing that. Stripping his asshole attitude away like it was nothing. The stupid Irishman had been able to read him just like Dale. But now it felt like Connor was losing that ability. Losing his faith. Losing everything.

"He knew things about us-the truth."

He saw how the Irishman moved at the mention of this word, if only ever so slightly.
Somehow, because of his stupid tattoo, Daryl always associated this word with his friend.
Connor - the truth.

"Who we really are. In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken."

Daryl felt more and more uncomfortable because of this whole speech. Why did he feel like Rick was addressing him with those words?

I know I'm losin it, but aren't we all? I don' need yah, or Dale, or Connor t'tell me that 24/7, he thought and growled.

Connor was standing between Carol and T-Dog and stared at Dale's grave. He was still confused and doubted everything all over again. He was quite surprised how affected he was by Dale's death. Maybe because every death reminds me af him, he thought and sighed. He knew that Daryl was standing a ouple of meters behind him and for a moment he was glad that he didn't have to face him. The Irishman didn't want anyone to see how he struggled. Especially not Daryl.

"The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives."

Connor looked up when he heard this. It was like Rick was addressing him.

Stop bein such a whiny pussy and pull yerself tagether. You ain't like that. That's not you. Yer not yerself any more. So stop bitching about with Daryl an stop moping.
This is survival. This is living here and now. You've got t'survive. You promised. Fer Murphy. Fer Daryl. Time to move on.

"Our safety. Our future. We're not broken."

Connor nodded and took a deep breath.

"We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on we're gonna do it his way."

Rick looked at him then and Connor nodded once more. Somehow Rick's words really did something to him. Made him feel more determined. Stronger. Better.
In the end he had just been waiting for words like that. For months.

"That is how we honor Dale" Rick finished and Connor looked at Dale's grave.

As he stared at the flowers on the pile of dirt he became aware of something else.

This is goodbye, he thought and kept staring.

Everyone moved on until it was just Connor by Dale's grave. He knew that this was it.

It's time, he thought and took a deep breath. He felt tears coming.

Time to say goodbye.

He heard footsteps behind him. The blonde didn't pay any attention to that. He couldn't. Because he realized that this was not only Dale's burial but also his brother's.

Time to move on.

He got his hands out of the pockets of his pea coat and grabbed his gun. The one he'd shot his brother with.

"You know I've loved you more than anything in this stupid world Murphy" he said and looked at his gun.

"Yer death broke me. It ripped my heart out" he went on and took a flower from Dale's grave to lie in on the ground next to it.

"But Rick's right. You were right. It's time ta stop and live on."

He felt how a single tear ran down his cheek.

"I'll never ever forget you. I will love you ferever and ever. You fuckin know that."

Connor looked up and snickered sadly.

"I know you'd probably laugh at me fer being so fuckin sentimental right now, but fuck you. It needs to be said. We never really said it, cos we both always knew."

He sighed and looked at the flower.

"These last couple af weeks I allowed myself ta mourn yer death..."

He sniffed and took a deep breath. Christ, this was painful.

"But that's it. It's time ta stop. Time to move on."

Connor wiped his nose and swallowed hard.

"I know I promised ye that I'd come back t'Boston. That I would take ye back t'Ireland with me and bury you on our hill, but I can't. It's impossible.
So this is goodbye, my dear brother."

He knelt down next to the flower and closed his eyes to start praying.

"And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand...that our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands.
So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

When he opened his eyes again he lay the gun down next to the flower and sighed.

"Love you, Murph" he muttered and got up.

When he turned around he saw Daryl standing there, with arms folded. He took a deep breath and swallowed.
After a moment he wiped the tears off his face and approached Daryl. They didn't speak as they made their way back to the farmhouse.
Not because they didn't want to, but because they didn't need to.