Okaaaayyyyyy. Here we go. Big BIG chapter. I'm pretty certain that not only the friendshippers will hate me after this, the shippers are probably going to hate me just as much. I know that my writing is mean, but trust me, Daryl is going to crack soon (when he discovers the truth about Smith's plan), and there will be some less angry and 'easier' parts because of that later. It will get better.

Resurrection

Chapter 15 - Untold

"Holy shit, dude" Connor said as he opened the door with a loud slam, which startled Daryl and made him look up. Just for a moment panic rushed over the hunter, who was fearing that this was the part where his best friend had discovered that he was keeping some important information from him. It had taken the Irishman way too freaking long. It was getting dark outside, and he must have spent more than one hour with Smith, which Daryl hadn't liked at all. He'd been sitting here in their room, without a clue, fearing that the professor would spill their secret and tell Connor everything. For a second both friends looked at each other, Connor seemingly puzzled by the look on Daryl's face, but then the older of the two friends stepped inside the room and seemed all excited, not pissed. Which definitely calmed the hunter down a bit.

"They're hosting a fuckin movie night in a couple 'a minutes" the Irishman stated and went for his duffel bag.

Daryl watched him walk across the room, a nervous frown on his face.

It suddenly felt so different. Like there was an invisible and fragile wall between them, one that he'd build up and didn't want to destroy. Even now there was a part of him that just wanted to get up, stare Connor right in the eye and say it: Your brother is still alive. I think he's in Savannah. But he couldn't. Not after everything he'd told Smith.

He needed to pull this through.

"Movie night" he just repeated and let out a gentle sigh.

Connor searched a couple of his things and nodded.

"A to the fucking aye. And we're invited."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at that, because even after all the talk with the others he still didn't really trust the whole place. It sounded like the whole feed them til you eat them kind of thing. But he decided to play along, because he still wanted to stay here, keep Connor here, get some food, something to drink just so he could get some rest for once.

"What movie?"

"Ninja Turtles" Connor answered and turned around to face his friend with a massive grin.

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"What are you, five?"

"Oh come on, fuck whatever movie it is. It is what it is: a movie. I love movies" he muttered and turned around once more.

"Been too long since I last saw one" he went on an Daryl smirked privately.

"Yeah, I know. You won't ever shut up about that crap" he mumbled and Connor looked at him again.

The younger of the two friends frowned when he noticed the strange look on the Irishman's face.

"What?" he asked and Connor looked at him for a moment longer, only to shake his head with an amused smirk.

"Nothing, 's just...weird ta see ye all clean and with a real shirt fer once" he muttered and Daryl felt awkward.

But for Connor it was even more awkward, although he kept it to himself. He turned around and stopped looking at his friend like that.

He knew that the hunter still hated it very much, so he didn't bring his brother up again, although he now couldn't stop thinking about it. With all the dirt gone, Daryl's hair getting darker and darker and him wearing clean clothes with a shirt with sleeves Connor was once again reminded how -much- Daryl looked like Murphy. Now they were back to the whole thing, that his best friend was pretty much a perfect copy of his twin brother.

It was weird, really. He knew that Murphy would've been older than Daryl, but for some reason it was the hunter who looked and acted older. He also had a deeper and gruffer voice than his brother. If you didn't count all that and ignored the fact that his character was also different, then it really felt like Murphy was in the room with him. Even after all these months and all the letting go Connor still felt a big lump in his throat, which was the reason why he needed to turn away again so Daryl wouldn't see it.

Murphy. He still loved him and missed him so -much- that it was absolutely ridiculous, although he wasn't really surprised.

Maybe it was a good thing that they were watching Ninja Turtles now. It was a cartoon. It was funny, it made you laugh and feel good.
Although even there was a part to it: Murphy had also loved Ninja Turtles.

He tried not to dwell on it, and he certainly didn't want to think about it or feel upset.

Considering that this could be his last couple of nights.

This was another reason why he couldn't really look at Daryl, because the whole keeping things from his friend was making it rather hard. He hated to keep secrets, because they always felt like an unwanted wall between them. But he knew how his friend was going to react to the news, so he'd rather watch a fucking movie with him and pretend to be okay than have Daryl lose his shit yet again.

There had been a reason why he'd been with Smith for so long.

They'd had a long discussion about his 'condition', the results, the ideas, the further 'treatment' and research for a cure. The professor had told Connor that the whole surviving bites and fighting the fever and infection wasn't even the most important and unique part about his blood. Yes, it kept walkers from attacking him, yes, he had caused the same reaction inside Daryl (which had been by sheer luck), and yes, there was a high possibility that they could extract some of that and produce a vaccine to protect other people from bites.

But this was nothing compared to the other part. The 'best' part, as Smith had called it, although Connor really wasn't so sure if he could call it the 'best'.

The thing inside his brain had changed because of the bites, got 'switched off' and neutralized by his body. Or whatever was inside his body. He was smart, but even he couldn't really understand all the details. Just thinking about it freaked him out. He knew that everyone had something inside their brains, this was the thing that made dead people walk after all, but it still weirded him out, and whenever he though about it he couldn't help but scratch his head. Whatever was inside him, his body had been able to fight it. Which meant that should he ever die: he wouldn't get up again.

He wouldn't ever be a walking corpse, he would never kill anyone with his teeth and claws and eat their guts. It was supposed to be a good thing, but for some reason it didn't really make him feel good about it. Because this was the bad part, the one he wanted to keep from Daryl. To get to this part of the infection, the brain, to be able to use that new changed pathogen and really produce a cure that would keep the dead from getting up again, they would have to open him up. His head, to get to this part of the brain and get samples of the infected substance itself, and this was going to hurt, and there were -many- -many- things that could go wrong. Smith had told him that since the pathogen was inside a very important and very inaccessible part of the brain he was either going to die or be paraplegic. Which was practically a death sentence these days anyway. It was kind of logical, really. It was going to be messy, and they didn't have the doctors nor the equipment and electricity to do this sort of surgery anymore, so of course they were going to fuck him up, should he agree.

And he didn't even know if anything was going to work anyway, which was why Smith had given him some 'time to think about it'. Although Connor knew that there was no such thing. They were going to keep him here, do it no matter what, and he knew it. He also knew that it would be easy for him and Daryl to escape, but the truth was that he didn't really know if he wanted to. Because it really wasn't such a bad idea, if he was honest. He'd tried to commit suicide once. A useless death, really. And now he had this oportunity, to finally join Murphy again, and maybe by doing so, he could also help some people cure mankind with the stuff he had in his brain and blood. A heroic death, the death of a saint. Apart from the part where he didn't really want to die anymore. But still, better be safe than sorry. So he decided to treat this as his 'last nights on earth', no matter how cheesy that sounded. And no matter how much he hated to hide that from Daryl.

He got all his things together and then gave his friend a final look.

"You coming?" he asked, and the hunter just stared at his friend for a while.

Daryl knew it would be easier if he just said no. This way he wouldn't have to look Connor in the eyes or say anything to him. It would be way easier to hide the truth from his friend, because he really wasn't sure for how much longer he could keep the Murphy business to himself. But at the same time he knew that his time with Connor was running out, that sooner or later the Irishman was going to discover the truth, that he would run off without him to be reunited with his twin, so maybe he needed to get his guts together there. He wanted to spent some more time with his friend, because he didn't want to be grumpy all the time, because he didn't want to spoil Connor's mood every single time and act like a complete buzz kill.

Daryl chewed on his lower lip for a while and then nodded.

"Yeah. Right behind yah."

"I'm sorry, no alcohol allowed"

Although there were way too many things going through Daryl's head: he still couldn't help but smirk at that remark.

They were all inside a larger room that looked like it had used to be a conference room of some sort, or maybe even a flat lecture hall. The kids Emma, Tom and Ethan were there, all huddled together in front of the tiny television. The whole room was pretty much dark except for the light the tv produced, because they needed to save as much energy as possible.

"Are ye fuckin shitting me?" Connor asked, which made Daryl look at him yet again.

He was smirking even more because even he thought that the whole thing was pretty ridiculous.
Asking Connor not to drink, that was like saying that water was completely dry.

"My blood type's practically 100% alcohol anyway" the Irishman stated and then took a sip of beer right in front of Smith, just to annoy him. About a second later there was a soldier, ready to grab the bottle from Connor's grip. The Irishman held on to it with a giggle but then let go, knowing that they better not strain their luck right now, because he seriously wanted to watch the freaking movie. The solider seemed extremely pissed off by Connor, which amused Daryl even more when he realized that it was the same soldier he'd pissed off earlier. The Irishman sighed and then walked over to the kids.

"Relax fellas, I was just trying ta lighten the mood a bit. My own included" he said and then sat down on one of the chairs, right between Elizabeth and an other nurse. Daryl automatically tensed when he saw that, his friend between two women, and now he saw how he was even getting engaged in a conversation with them. It was kind of ridiculous, really. How easy it was for the blonde to connect with other people. Wherever they went, as soon as there were friendlies and not enemies - Connor would be there, ready to talk to people, to make friends, have a good time and laugh. It had always been like that, even back on the farm. It had been way too easy for him to win the whole group's hearts with all his stupid talk, his jokes and stories. Even now no one could really explain it, there was just something about this freak, his charm, the way he acted. Daryl gritted his teeth even more when he remembered that this was how his friend had won him over after all.

And now he wasn't just jealous of the women, he was also jealous of Connor himself, because he knew that he could never be like that, that there were too many things broken inside him because of his past, and maybe he hated that. He turned his head to look at Smith, who was talking to one of the soldiers.

"Hey Frankenstein" he called out, but not too loud so neither Connor nor the kids would hear it.

Smith turned his head to look at Daryl.

"You mind if I drink some of that stuff, instead?" he asked and just got a shrug as an answer, since the professor was obviously busy.

The hunter took it as a yes and then walked over to the table with the bit of food and drink from one of their supply runs. He gave in to a little stare down with an other soldier who obviously didn't like the fact that he wanted something, and when the man placed a shot glass on the table Daryl just let out a snort and grabbed the whole bottle of hard alcohol.

"Hey, smartass..." the soldier started, but the hunter just walked away from the table.

"Miracle cure here, remember" he just said and went back to the chair, to sit down and start getting drunk.

He really needed that right now, for so many reasons. Because of the whole lying thing, the Connor with women thing, and because he hated fucking Ninja Turtles and needed to drink them better. He just sat there for a while, listened to the soldiers and the doctors, to the cartoon and the little children as he kept drinking and felt how the alcohol was beginning to make him feel numb and tingly.

Pretty soon Connor stopped talking to the nurses and was all eyes and ears on the cartoon, and it was quite a good thing to watch, really. And Daryl didn't think about the movie that way. No, it was more like he was happy to see his friend like that, happy, laughing and enjoying a simple movie. He'd been there all the time, he'd watched pretty much Connor's entire journey of getting over his twins death, and now it really looked like the blonde had reached a point in his life where he was 'happy' and content. As happy as you could ever be in a world like this, he guessed, but that didn't matter.

Daryl let out a gentle sigh and took another sip on the bottle.

Add another reason to the list why he didn't want to tell his friend about the fact that his brother was still alive. He just knew the impact it would have. Yes, Connor would be relieved to know that he had never killed his twin. But there were going to be days, maybe even months of searching, and he just knew that it would have a negative impact on his friend. The uncertainty, the unsatisfied longing for a reunion, and as soon as they found Murphy: the blame. He was sure that the guy was going to be hurt, maybe even broken after everything that had happened to him. The bite wound scar on his shoulder, then there had to be a ugly scar of the headshot wound Connor had caused, and he just knew that his friend was going to blame himself for all that.

Maybe Connor would go back to the self-loathing. And all the shit with Murphy was going to make it worse again. Maybe the little fucker had much more problems because of the after effects of the shot. It had to be like that. Then there was the part Smith had told him about: what had gone wrong in Boston with the military. Too many fuck ups that surrounded this Murphy guy. He needed to keep his friend from that. He looked up and smirked miserably when Connor started laughing because of a particularly funny scene in Ninja Turtles.

It was so stupid. The guy didn't have a clue.

And what made the whole thing even more fucked up was the fact that even now he couldn't really see Connor happy. Not when he wasn't happy.
And all this knowledge he had right now meant also power.

He took another long sip on his whiskey and winced when it burned his throat.
Man, he was getting dizzy, actually. He wasn't used to the booze anymore.

Connor laughed yet again and for some reason that made Daryl happy, but the happier it made him, the angrier he got. There was this tiny sick part of him, that damaged and broken typical 'Dixon' part that wanted to crush this happiness, tell Connor about Murphy just to watch him suffer yet again. Because watching his friend suffer would make him feel good, no matter how sick it really was. Because he was suffering, and if Connor suffered with him then this would mean that he wasn't alone, that they were in this together, suffering, pain, just like they'd gotten to know each other and spent most of their time together.

It was so right that Connor was happy, but it was so wrong at the same time because he couldn't be happy with him.

Another joke, another funny scene. Connor and the kids were laughing, and then the Irishman got engaged in a silly conversation with Smith's son. It was so ridiculous that the guy didn't have any kids of his own, that's what Daryl had to think about right then. He'd always been good with Carl, hell, even with little asskicker, and now this. The fucker had to be better than him at freaking -everything-. Well, if you didn't count hunting and surviving outside. But still, Daryl was getting sick of this, the fact that he enjoyed watching Ninja Turtles and enjoyed watching Connor watch Ninja Turtles, so he headed for the door to go outside and have a smoke.

Just like before soldiers blocked his way, but he just made a grumpy remark on if the guy wanted to join him on the crapper. All he needed was another angry glare at Smith, and then he was free to go to one of the small balconies. There were still some guards around (just in case, as everyone liked to call it), but at least he had some privacy out there while they waited inside.

And it wasn't like he could jump. He didn't have a bungee cord with him, he told another bunch of soldiers, before he could finally sit down, have a smoke, and most importantly: drink. He looked up at the sky and could even see the stars. It was a mild summer night, and since the alcohol was cooling his skin anyway he actually really enjoyed the temperatures out here. It was a nice contrast to the freakishly hot days, the running, the tick bites and everything.

He automatically scratched his left arm and wrinkled his nose in disgust when he remembered that he was all clean and vulnerable. Daryl lit up one of their few smokes and then leaned over the balcony a bit, to check if he could see someone down there. All he could see was the river and darkness. The whole city was dark, although he believed to see a faint campfire on the other side of the river. Even after almost a year of watching the world go to shit he still wasn't used to the look of a dead, abandoned city.

"Don't do it!" he heard Connor say and startled.

Daryl turned his head to look at his friend, who was standing by the door with a smirk on his face.

"You jump, I jump, Rose" the Irishman said and stared at the hunter a second longer, only to snort and then chuckle.

"Very funny" Daryl muttered and turned his head again so he could look at the river and take another drag on his cigarette.

Connor walked over to his friend and looked down as well.

"Why'd you leave? Ye missed the epic finale.. All fighting and shit, and those turtles saving te day. What a surprise, really" the Irishman muttered and then stole the cigarette from Daryl's hand before the hunter got another chance to smoke it himself. Connor took a long drag and then groaned.

"Fuck, been too long since I last had one."

Daryl wouldn't say anything to that, he just sat there and enjoyed being outside. Connor seemed to notice his mood soon.

"What's up with you again, they poke ye the wrong way?"

The hunter looked at his friend for a moment, but as soon as their eyes met he felt the guilt rise again.
And now that he was a -bit- drunk he feared speaking out the truth even more.

"Nah, just tired, I guess" he answered and then offered Connor the hard alcohol as well, knowing that his friend really wanted it.

The Irishman grinned and took the bottle.

"Sweet" he said and took a large sip, only to clear his throat.

"Tastes like piss, but I don't fuckin care" he muttered and nearly let it slip, the 'this could be my last day, so fuck it, I need alcohol'.

There was silence for a while, and both men just kept each other company, as they shared the cigarette and bottle until Daryl finally knew how to talk again.

"So what took that weirdo so long with you?" he asked, which made Connor look at him. Daryl kept going.

"What'd he say?"

There was a long pause, as Connor tried to sort his thoughts and come up with a clever lie. He hated lying, and whenever he did it it felt like his left index finger was burning, the tattoo, reminding him of what he'd sworn: tell the truth. He swallowed hard and looked away, down at the black mirror that was the river.

"Didn't really understand shit. Loadsa medical stuff. But nothin really new. Many of the things that Milty already told us about."

Another pause.

"They took some more blood. He says they wanna try t'find something like a vaccine. Something that works just like it did with you, something that keeps walkers from attacking people or something like tha" he said, and although he was lying through his teeth he was actually surprised how convincing he sounded. When he looked at Daryl it really looked like his friend didn't have a clue about the whole missing part, the fact that he was half-lying his way through this, the whole 'oh and by the way, it could kill me, but fuck that, nice weather'.

"What about ye`What'd you two talk about?" he asked to change the topic.

Another pause. Both men staring each other right in the eye.

Now it was Daryl who swallowed, ever so slightly, and covering up with a drag on their smoke. He shook his head and then looked down at where he dropped the cigarette butt.

"Same. Less. Talked about you a bit, and that my stuff ain't really special. I told 'em they should focus on you, which they did, by the looks of it" the hunter answered and tried to sound relaxed and engaged in an everyday small talk. Another lie, and just like minutes before: it didn't look like the other had a clue what was behind all that.

Although both men kind of suspected that the other was keeping something from them. They knew each other well in that regard, just not well enough to read each other's minds. And then there was the other part to it: the fact that they were both too proud and too stubborn to actually call the other out and ask for the truth.

"Right. Aye. They did."

And yet another pause. It was getting awkward between them, and both men could sense that there was something different, that neither was relaxed, that everything was tense and felt forced. Daryl yawned just to mask his own awkwardness. Connor just seemed disappointed by the lack of their usual closeness and warmness. The blonde took another long sip on the bottle and then wipped his mouth.

"Alright. Better get back inside. I got another episode t'watch" he muttered and patted Daryl's chest as he gave him the bottle back.

The hunter nodded and patted the Irishman's hand back.

"Yeah, you do that. 'm gonna go and crash. Kinda tired" he said and lied yet again.

He just wanted to get back to their room so he could do some more drinking and brood.

Connor chuckled.

"Make that wasted" he said and opened the door. He was on his way back inside when he suddenly kept talking.

"And about yesterday" he said and Daryl listened up.

Connor turned around and smirked at him.

"Don't have ta be sorry fer nothing. I know you were just pissed because of te whole me provoking you thing. Still, apology accepted" he said as he turned around and pulled the door closed behind him.

Daryl looked at the door for a whole minute, mind buzzing from the alcohol, until he finally understood what Connor meant with the whole thing.

He didn't even need to listen up. He knew who was coming closer and closer to the room he was 'sleeping' in. But when he did listen up he let out a gentle chuckle, because the footsteps told him that the person he was hearing was actually drunk. Or he was undead, he couldn't really tell. The door opened about half a minute later, shining some light inside his room and blinding him. Daryl still wouldn't shield his eyes, he was just lying there, head resting on both his arms, staring at the ceiling.

"What te fuck" he heard Connor mutter right from where he was standing, and he knew what his friend was referring to. The hunter had made his way to their room after his smoke break on the balcony, and he'd spent the time Connor was busy watching movies with getting their room ready together with one of the nurses. Which basically meant that he'd snapped at her every time she asked too many questions or did something wrong. He had set their room up like this, couch ready with pillows and a blanket, just waiting for his friend while he slept on the floor a bit further away from the couch.

He was used to the whole thing, sleeping on floors, making room for others, because he didn't need much and wanted others to get the whole good stuff.

He pretended to be asleep, simply because he didn't want to get into an argument over who was sleeping on the couch, because he was pretty sure that Connor was going to put up a fight. He dared not to make a sound or even shift as he listened to how his friend stumbled across the room, towards the couch that had been prepared for him. And much to Daryl's confusion the walking wouldn't stop. Only a few moments later there was a thud right next to him, and the hunter believed that it had been a pillow. A moment later there was another gentle thud (the blanket), followed by a much heavier thud. There was a moan right after that, and Daryl finally shifted.

"What the.." he growled and turned his head to look at his friend, who was lying right next to him, on his belly, face buried in his pillow.

"Shut it" came the muffled answer from Connor.

Daryl moved yet again and shifted his weight on his elbows.

"No. You get your ass back on your couch" he said and shoved his friend, who turned his head and looked back at him with drunken eyes and messy hair.

"Fuck you, I ain't sleepin on a fuckin couch and have ye sleep on te ground like some fucking dog" Connor answered and moved out of his friend's reach, so Daryl would stop shoving him. His brogue was worse when he was drunk, and it took Daryl a moment to get used to it.

"Ever thought about how I probably moved your shit up there so I could sleep in peace for once?" the hunter growled with an angry frown and still tried shoving his friend away.

But this time it was Connor who suddenly turned around and started shoving him back.

"You know what, fuck you" the Irishman suddenly said and the two of them got into yet another one of their brawls, only that this time it was a little bit rougher and way more clumsy because they both were a tiny bit drunk.

"Every single fuckin time we get into this shit" the Irishman growled and moved and shoved and kicked, while Daryl fought back just as hard, trying everything to get his friend off him, while Connor tried to stay where he was.

"Ever since I fuckin met you ass, and every single fuckin time you do that shit and kick my guts and fight me" and a sudden wave of drunkenness rushed over him and caught him off guard. Daryl used the time to shove and kick him away.

"Just fuck off and get back on the damn couch, you drunk asshole" he roared, getting sick of the whole thing just like pretty much every night.

But Connor was too drunk, because he had spent pretty much the rest of the evening giving himself Dutch courage for tomorrow, trying to make up his goddamn mind about everything, and maybe the whole clean Daryl looking so much like Murphy had given him the rest for today. And this was enough to make him desperate, although this sounded pretty pathetic.

And yet he didn't care. Just like all the other stuff he'd done today after his talk with Smith he treated this right here with the same 'fuck it' attitude. So he kept fighting, because he wanted to hold on to something, to someone, and since his only one, Murphy, was gone, Daryl would have to do and maybe he could treat some things differently compared to how they'd treated each other before, as long as he still had the time.

"No I fuckin won't" he answered and got a knee in his guts for that which made him groan in pain, and that was just about to send him over the edge and make him even more angry.

"I'm getting sick of this fighting and punching bullshit" he said and finally managed to overwhelm Daryl, who got that furious and yet freaked out look on his face again.

"I said fuck off" the hunter spat, voice now alarmingly dangerous and pissed off as he stared up at his friend with wide mad eyes.

" And I fucking hate you" Connor answered, and there was some truth to that, because his friend really could see some sort of hatred in his eyes, and he was quite surprised when he realized that it hurt him. It was true, what the Irishman said, because just like him he was getting sick and tired of all their fighting, their brawls and the insults and harsh words. But this was how they'd always worked. It was the sheer annoyance that kept their friendship going, like it was some sick drug. Because just like all sorts of shitty drugs it worked the same way: you know that shit destroys you, your mind, your body, and yet you can't stop consuming it.

But he hated the hatred between them, because it hurt, because it was harsh and brutal to keep hearing these words. Especially since he knew that those were the words he was going to hear as soon as Connor discovered the truth about Murphy, that these were the last words he was going to hear as soon as they parted. And what made it even more fucked up was how he was the one who kept digging his own grave with all his lies, all the punches and words and all the shoving Connor away.

What he didn't expect next though, was that the Irishman suddenly used his dominating position and dropped his head down to crash their mouths together. There was nothing romantic about it, nothing tender. It was too rough and angry to be anything like that. And it certainly wasn't filled with anything you could call something silly like 'love'. Because this was stupid, and certainly not a word the two of them would ever use to describe whatever was going on between them anyway. Right now it was actually really filled with hatred, and this was a new form of violence and taking without asking. On top of that it was actually quite disgusting, because they were both terribly bad at it, because their mouths tasted like putrid alcohol, stale cigarettes and men who barely got to use a toothbrush these days.

And because the movement had happened too fast, too abruptly it didn't end up as the kiss Connor had intended, it was the clacking of teeth and the smashing of split lips that was awkward and nothing but strange.

Daryl was completely freaked out by the whole thing, paralyzed and terrorized because his best friend was freaking kissing him. Countless 'no's' kept repeating themselves in his head like a broken record. Because he wasn't into guys at all, hardly any women, hell, practically no one, because this was Connor, because this was so fucking wrong, because Merle and his father were screaming at him in his mind. The 'no' kept repeating itself, but even with all that chaos in his brain that felt so tiny all of a sudden, he still couldn't do anything about it, and then there it was: the other part of his brain that suddenly 'crashed the party'. The lonely, more embarrassing part of his brain that cheered because he was the one Connor had 'chosen' instead of any of the women they had encountered. The part of his brain that screamed 'Finally!' because after years upon years of being lonely, abused, ignored and bullied he was getting some 'action'.

It was stupid and pathetic, but no matter how hard he had tried and kept telling himself that he didn't need anyone, that he couldn't do it: whenever he'd seen his group, Glenn and Maggie, Rick and Lori, Andrea and Shane, Shane and Lori...he'd always felt jealous. Always envied their abilities to be 'intimate' with someone. And every single time he'd loathed himself, wondered what the fuck was wrong with him, why he couldn't get it and now this.

It shouldn't surprise him, really, he thought. There had been -many- 'almost' situations in his and Connor's relationship, but the whole thing still caught him completely off guard.

His mind had been spinning with all these thoughts and it had felt like eternity, whereas in reality, the whole thing happened in less than a minute. Especially during the envious and 'finally' part he suddenly clung to his friend's shirt and responded for a split second, moved his lips and maybe kissed back, but right then his instincts kicked right in. Daryl suddenly knew how to react again, knew how to move his body and how to breathe, so he instantly did the only natural thing he could do to react to this sudden attack.

He snapped his eyes open in horror, lunged out with his arm and hit his friend's left kidney as hard as he possibly could.

Connor instantly broke the kiss and moved his head up to catch breath and groan in pain, and the younger of the two friends used this opportunity to send his fist flying again, but this time it connected with the Irishman's left temple. Connor fell off of him because of the sheer force of the punch, and Daryl moved away from under him, sitting up straight, hair a complete mess, eyes wide in shock and terror because he couldn't believe that this shit had really happened.

So much had been destroyed between them because of that simple gesture. Just like that. It scared the living daylights out of him because he'd never experienced anything like that, because it was foreign, because it had caught him off guard like a knife attack from his father. It was so horrible and confusing that it just couldn't be fucking true and he wanted it to be over and forgotten.

Connor held his head with a reproachful moan, and when their eyes met again Daryl was quite surprised to see that the Irishman was honestly -hurt- by his behavior, looking instantly sober. And although the younger of the two friends felt sorry for his reaction he still couldn't keep the defensive and yet aggressive words in.

"I'm going to kill you if you do that again" he snarled instinctively, just like always, and for the moment he really meant it.

He didn't wait for an answer, he just grabbed his stuff and moved to the other side of the room, far away from his friend, back turned on him, facing the cold wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, head still buzzing with countless emotions, and it took a pretty long while until he finally heard how Connor moved as well, back to the couch, shuffling ever so quietly, not making another sound at all, which made Daryl's guts clench and twist. Now that he'd had a couple of minutes to calm down he really regretted his lashing out, hated having to hurt his friend like that, and even though the manly part of himself had him in a headlock he just wanted to walk over and apologize like yesterday. But he was too proud to do it, too confused, and still way too scared.

And he just wanted to grab his pillow and scream in it, rip it apart, grab his crossbow and shoot someone, because he had fucked it up yet again, because he kept making the wrong calls, because their time was running out and because this was reason number one why he should tell his friend about Murphy: he knew that this ghost fucker would never do anything like that, because he would never hurt him, and because the Irish freak deserved someone better than fucked up him.