Resurrection

Chapter 21 - Kindness

52 days ago...
May 6th 2008, 8:18am, Savannah, Georgia

"Are you hungry?"

Murphy startled awake, sitting up straight and back connecting with the wall. He'd had another dream of getting shot and running running running, which was why he was scared and his heart was pounding in his chest. The younger MacManus looked at the woman in front of him with wide eyes. She looked rather surprised by his reaction, and after withdrawing the foot plate for a moment she offered it again.

"You look pretty thin and I wasn't too hungry anyway, so we got some more for you" Joyce said, and Murphy rubbed his nose with a sniff. He relaxed a bit and let his gaze wander. He could see the rest of the group wandering about the morgue in the dim light of candles and the outside sun, which shone through the tiny windows just below the wall.

He'd had a pretty tough night, despite the fact that they had given him a mattress, pillow and blanket so he didn't have to sleep on the cold floor in his corner by the elevator. Joyce was still holding the plate in her shaky hands, and the dark-haired MacManus twin figured that it would be impolite to let the old woman stand there when she was nice enough to offer him food.

"Thanks" he murmured quietly and took it to get a better look at the food. It was the usual. Canned fruit, beef jerky, whatever was left. He took the fork so he could play around with one of the slices of peaches for a bit, and he wouldn't stop looking around instead of actually eating something. He noticed Brie on the other side of the room. She was talking to the other men but would look at him every now and then, looking angry and displeased by the fact that Joyce was interacting with him. He really hated the woman and decided to ignore her, so he fixed his eyes on Joyce yet again and sighed. He was very hungry, that was true, but the woman in front of him looked sick and, well, she was old after all.

"Don't ye need that, though? I don't wanna eat yer food. I don' wanna be rude or something, but you don't look too good" he mumbled and tried to give the plate back to the old woman, who just waved him off and leaned against the wall.

"It's okay. My belly's all..filled with cramps and tumors anyway" she said and chuckled with her sweet grandma laughter.

Murphy fixed his eyes on her belly for a moment and started chewing on his lips.
He still wouldn't start eating, because he considered it impolite to eat while talking.

"Is it terminal?"

Joyce sighed and looked at her group.

"We were all in remission when it started. Now we're just…waiting for it all to end."

Murphy let out a gentle sigh as well and put the plate down on the mattress.

"Aye, that we are" he muttered and Joyce cocked her head curiously.

"You really aren't from Crawford, are you, boy? The accent, we would've noticed that before. That's…." she observed and Murphy nodded.

"'m Irish. I think" he muttered and scratched his head, because even now he couldn't remember much about his past.

But all the others back at Boston had said this, Simmons had said this, so he guessed that he had been in Ireland at some point.

"Is it as bad over there as here?" the old woman asked sadly and Murphy shrugged helplessly.

"Dunno. I've told ye before. I'm from Boston, actually."

"Oh, immigrated?"

Murphy shrugged yet again and tried to change the topic, because he hated to be reminded of the fact that he couldn't remember much because of the headshot. He also didn't want to screw this up, considering that the group had stated that they wanted to get to know him before they allowed him to stay and leave on a regular basis.

"Listen. I wasn' lying before. I kinda…" he sighed and tried to come up with an explanation why it was so easy for him to enter walker-infested buildings without actually dropping the truth bomb about how he was immune to the infection after a bite.

"I got my ways ta enter buildings. I'm really good at tha. I saw that you were havin cramps and everything yesterday, so if ye need anything t'help ye get through the cancer…" he shrugged and tried to look her right in the eye, to show her that he was being honest. "I really just wanna help. And thank ye fer letting me stay."

Joyce smiled.

"Well, you could get me proper doctors and another chemo" she said and then shook her head. "Although I really don't want to endure that again.
So no, you can't really help me. It's okay though. Vernon and Boyd take good care of me."

"Joyce!" Brie called out and both Murphy and the old woman turned their heads to look at her.

The younger woman was waving Joyce down, a grim look on her face, like he was fed up with the fact that her friend was talking to a stranger.
The new member of their group narrowed his eyes at her for a second.

"And her" he mumbled and Joyce sighed.

"She's having a hard time. Crawford killed her best friend" she answered and Murphy frowned.

"Speaking of which. What te hell is this Crawford place. Sounds horrible" he muttered and Joyce nodded.

"It is. I'll let Vernon know that you want to talk to him. He can tell you everything about it" she said and started walking, but Murphy called after her.

"Joyce!" he said which made the old woman turn around and look at him.

"Thank you. Fer the food" he said and nodded at the plate.

"And…fer believing me that I'm not fram Crawford."

The old woman smiled at him, and for the first time in a long time Murphy felt okay.
Her presence was comforting somehow, because she was a fellow soul that was getting tormented by bodily pain, and because she felt like a grandmother.

"There's another reason why you cannot possibly be from this dreadful place. You keep thanking us. Crawford doesn't know the meaning of kind words like "thank you"."

She then turned around yet again to get back to her group, and Murphy finally grabbed the plate to start eating.

an hour later..

Murphy was resting both his arms on the former operating table, chin buried in the crook of his arm as he looked at the map in front of him.
Vernon, Boyd and Clive were there as well, all gathered around the table and map.

"This…is Crawford" Vernon started to explain whereas the other two men watched the newest member of their group cautiously. Murphy tried not to roll his eyes, because their intentions were obvious. They were trying to make out whether he was familiar with the place or not, if there was recognition showing in his eyes. Since he honestly didn't know the place anyway he didn't worry too much about that. Brie wasn't there with them, she was with Joyce again. The old woman was having one of her bad cramps again, and although Murphy hardly knew her he already felt sorry for her. She had been a nice lady this morning, and something in his guts told him that this was the kind of thing he liked to do. Help good people.

So that which is good may flourish, he suddenly remembered, which made him frown. It felt like a famous quote. Or an important one from his life prior the headshot and the apocalypse. He let out a gentle sigh and shook his head, trying not to ponder on that. He looked at the map instead. The younger MacManus could see a whole bunch of houses, grouped around one of Savannah's many former and old squares.

"When the apocalypse started it was the only place to hold up against the plague. Countless citizens of Savannah got attacked and eaten on the street by mobs of undead, but for some reason this place seemed to hold up just fine. It was like a myth. Everyone wanted to get in there, and it was a good enough place in the beginning. Better than the outside anyway. But then it became clear why they were able to survive like that. Their leader is an old, mean looking man named Oberson. When it got obvious that things weren't going to get better he set up clear rules to keep Crawford going" he said and Murphy listened to what the man had to say. He was rather curious, because the wall outside had pretty much shocked him. He had figured that the place could be bad, but now it was more than -obvious- that Crawford was bad. He got the vibe, especially when he looked at the other members of the group.

Boyd nodded and folded his arms with a sad sigh.

"Terrible rules" he agreed and Clive nodded as well.

Vernon turned his head to look at suffering Joyce with sad eyes.

"They decided not to tolerate any weak or disobedient people any longer. Strict rationing, death sentence for looting. They even set up a 'no children, no child bearing' rule. It turned into survival of the fittest. They went on a killing spree over night, like the nazis back in old Germany before the second world war. They would cast out the sick and the elderly, and whoever refused got shot on the spot. When panic broke out they closed the borders, tried not to let anyone out and kill everyone who didn't fit their ideas. "

Murphy pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling disgusted and sickened by the description of Crawford.
Now he could finally understand why these people had treated him like that yesterday.
If he had really been from Crawford then he could have been one mean son of a bitch.

"Tha's sick" he muttered and the men opposite him nodded.

"Our group was twice as big before that night. We lost good friends that day, and barely made it out of there ourselves."

Murphy started chewing on his fingernails and turned around to look at Brie for a moment.
He remembered what she'd said the day before.

They'll come down here and finish where they left of! Don't you remember what they did to Albert? Gracie?
She's having a hard time. Crawford killed her best friend.

He still couldn't stand her that much simply because she had been mean after all, but he still could understand her reaction a bit better.

"'m really sorry" he said and looked at the rest of the group.

"And 'm really not like 'em" he went on and then sighed. He got a bit moody again and buried his chin in the crook of his arm.

"Guess I'd be more like one of their liabilities over there" he muttered in regards to his 'disabilities' which had been caused by the headshot (he still had a hard time seeing clearly on his right eye, and he still couldn't read or write that much). Then there was the less obvious part about him. Immune or not, he still was infected with the mysterious disease. Smith had told him back in Augusta.

He grabbed the map and took a closer look at it. Once again he could hear Joyce's painfilled gasps and groans behind him. The pain came and went multiple times a day, and he really wanted to help. There were even more reasons to it, because even now the whole group was watching him wearily. Although it seemed like they believed him that he wasn't from Crawford that didn't mean that they trusted strangers. Which was a good thing, he supposed, but not from his point of view.

Murphy looked at the map for a while, fingers of his left hand drumming on the table while he kept chewing on his lower lip. He really felt the urge to smoke but couldn't because he'd run out of cigarettes days ago and because he considered it rude, smoking around cancer patients. He tried to get the map into his head, get familiar with this Crawford place when an idea suddenly struck him.

"How's te place looking now? How are they doing?"

Vernon exchanged a glance with Clive and then put both his hands on the table.

"Better than ever, by the looks of it. We saw a whole bunch of them scooping out their surroundings, like they were thinking about expanding."

Murphy put the map away and nodded.

"Let me guess, they're the ones who've been stripping the entire town clean except fer the overrun places" he said in regards to everything he had seen when he had arrived here. Empty shops, cars with missing parts, tires and engines, cleaned out gas stations and pharmacies. Boyd nodded.

"If it weren't for the supplies in the old bomb shelter then they would've starved us out by now. We've been trying to get some more medicine and supplies in the dark, but it was pretty much useless."

Vernon nodded.

"Brie and I were on one of those runs when we found you" he stated, but Murphy wouldn't look at him or Brie.
He kept his eyes fixed on the map, until he came to the conclusion that it was a good idea.

"What 'bout stealing things from Crawford?" he asked and the whole room went quiet. Then Clive snorted.

"We might be terminally ill, but we're not suicidal, boy."

Murphy nodded and played his fingers.

"Aye, I know. But maybe I could…do that. T'prove myself? Think about it, we'd kill two birds with one stone. Get the medicine yer people obviously need, and make this Crawford place pay fer everything they've done to you and yer friends."

Vernon chuckled and pointed at his hand.

"So this really isn't just a fancy tattoo, hm?" he asked and Murphy looked at the ink on his fingers, the letters that spelled out 'Aequitas'.

He quickly hid his hand and Vernon kept chuckling.

"I can see that you're trying to show that you're all about justice and honesty, but see it from our perspective, boy. You might not be from Crawford, but you could use this opportunity and run away from us, you could be from another group and tellthem after all."

"I told ye! 'm from Boston and 'm all by myself because my family and friends got killed. If I wanted ta betray you and steal yer shit, don't ye think I could've done that hours ago? Bunch a sick old people are not exactly a threat ta me" Murphy snapped, suddenly losing his temper and startling Boyd. He noticed his mistake about a second later and regretted his choice of words, because now he'd just spooked the others. He let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. Oh how he hated that, trying to reason with people, trying to earn their trust. It wasn't like he couldn't talk to people or gain new friends, but it were moments like this where he just knew that his brother had been better at the whole kind of thing. It obviously wasn't his cake, he just seemed to make it worse all the time with his temper. The dark-haired MacManus twin bit his lip and took a deep breath.

"If ye'd just give me a fuckin chance ta prove myself so we could stop all this mistrust" he said, more gently and quieter this time.

He noticed the angry glare Brie was giving him because of his outburst, and that didn't exactly surprise him.
The three men of the group exchanged glances once more, then Vernon started walking with a smile.
He kept looking at Murphy, to let him know that he was supposed to follow.

"Well, if you wanna prove yourself you can start by helping me take care of the toilets and showers."

Murphy looked at the man, disbelief and disappointment showing in his eyes.

Of course they would make them their bitch first.

He rolled his eyes and got up with a growl, having a hard time not yelling 'keep your shit to yourself' at the man. But he knew that this really was his only good chance to prove himself, because if he kept being stubborn about everything then they might end up killing him or kicking him out just to reduce the amount of annoyance. And he supposed to shoveling other people's shit was a luxury compared to the outside life. He followed Vernon with an angry frown. He knew that he was going to hate the job, but at least he could consider himself a 'part' of the group's life now.

52 days later
June 27th 2008, 10:37pm, Augusta, Georgia

"Dude, where'd you put my fuckin clothes?" Connor asked as he searched their backpack.

They had spent a couple of minutes searching the house for any soldiers, thugs or walkers, and after putting down two undead inside the bathroom and considering the house a relatively safe place the Irishman had decided to get rid of his old and wet clothes in the living room. Except there were hardly any clothes in Daryl's backpack.

"Why'd you forget my fuckin bag? Of course ye gotta drag all yer shit with you, but forget about my shit!" he complained and let go of the thing on the couch, only to give Daryl an angry glare. The hunter was standing inside the old kitchen, searching the drawers for supplies without finding any.

"Calm your ass. You're the one who just jumped out of a window and left me to do all the dirty work up there. I had to climb out of the window and make my way back on a goddamn rain gutter. I took what I could without falling down" Daryl answered and resumed his search.

Connor let out a frustrated sigh and did find his favourite t-shirt, but that was about it.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he muttered to himself as he got rid of his sticky wet shirt to replace it with the other one.

"I got no fuckin spare jeans!" he yelled about a minute later and Daryl slammed the one of the doors shut way louder than necessary.

"What the hell are yah, a girl? Stop wettin your pants over a wet pair of jeans. Ain't my fault you had to jump inside a freakin river."

"Oh fuck you" Connor grunted and then limped towards the stairs, which made Daryl turn around and look at him.

"Hey, where you going?" he asked, but Connor kept moving.

"Upstairs, see if those people have some fuckin clothes I can borrow until my fuckin jeans are dry" the Irishman said and Daryl watched him with a frown, noticing the limping and not really liking it.

"Wait up" he growled and went back for their bag until he found one of his old pants.

"Take this one" he said and threw it at his friend.

Connor barely managed to catch it.
The older of the two friends took a look at the clothes and then slowly walked back to the old couch in the middle of the room.

"Jaysus, are ye really this fat? Better than stealing other people's shit, though, I guess" he muttered and opened his belt. Daryl just stood there for a moment with folded arms because he didn't know what else to do, and he was unaware of the fact that he was staring, but Connor noticed it and smirked. He turned around so he was facing Daryl and kept undoing his belt, whilst mimicking and loudly humming the infamous striptease tune, which made the hunter snort and then turn around with a headshake.

"You're pathetic" he said and walked away, only noticing his staring just now.

Connor and his stupid jokes and pranks. Although they were quite annoying and stupid he kind of had to admit that they were funny. The Irishman was still laughing to himself, being the one to enjoy his jokes the most once again. Daryl was heading for the kitchen once more when Connor's belt suddenly hit his back, because his friend had obviously thrown it during his 'striptease'. The hunter knew that it was just a playful gesture and that his friend didn't mean him any harm, but he still flinched really hard and ducked his head down while covering it with both his hands. It was a subconscious reaction and his body tensed until his muscles ached, because his skin still associated pain with the touch of a belt. For a moment it was absolutely quiet inside the room, as Daryl quickly tried to stand up straight again like nothing had happened, but that didn't matter because his friend had already noticed his reaction.

"Fuck. Dude. I'm so sorry. I didn't…" he said, noticing his stupid and foolish mistake just now. The blonde wanted to facepalm himself so hard for this deed and tried to walk up to his friend, to make it right somehow, but Daryl kept walking away, stiffly and awkwardly like nothing had happened.

"Don't know what yah talkin 'bout" he muttered and searched the rest of the cupboards.

As soon as he touched the knobs he could see that his hands were shaking though. Connor instantly stopped laughing and talking, because his mean joke and Daryl's past had spoiled the mood again, from one second to the next. The hunter could only hear the ruffling of clothes as Connor got changed, and he waited a bit longer inside he kitchen to make sure that he wouldn't walk in on his friend standing there buck naked in front of him. Or something.

He did find one spare can of baked beans in the far corner of one of the bottom shelves, so that was a bonus. When he walked back inside the living room he could see his friend sitting there on the couch, crouched down as he was feeling his ankle with a frown. The hunter put the can on the table and then looked at his friend.

"You alright?" he asked and pointed at the naked ankle. Connor nodded and hissed when he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

"Aye. I think's not broken" he muttered and kept feeling it. Daryl just frowned and tried to make up is mind, only to come to the conclusion that it couldn't exactly hurt. Not him at least. He sat down on the table in front of Connor and then grabbed his friend's ankle, and maybe he took that one on purpose to annoy the Irishman.

"Ow, you motherfucker!" Connor promptly complained and tried to kick Daryl, but the hunter kept the foot in place and then started feeling it carefully and almost tenderly, which was a contrast to how he usually treated his friend. Years of taking care of himself, post abusive nights with his father, had taught him how to treat sprained and broken bones, so he considered himself an 'expert' there by now.

"Ain't broke" he confirmed a moment later and tried to make out if he could find something to support his friend's ankle.

Connor snorted gently and leaned back into the couch.

"Told ye" he muttered and watched how Daryl was trying to use an old remote control as a splint. The hunter was all caught up with it, and it actually surprised Connor a bit. It wasn't like he didn't know that his friend cared a lot about him, but Daryl hardly ever showed such kind gestures. It was a bit awkward for the both of them, even now after their 'talk', so the blonde tried to lighten the mood a bit.

"Aye, and I'd like a proper massage while yer at it" he said and wriggled his toes, despite the fact that it hurt.

Daryl looked up and gave him his infamous 'really?' frown.

"And a beer, chicks that are waving air at me with palm leaves, and a proper movie. Maybe a haircut, a shave, whirlpool and more beer..."

"You're makin this thing a spa holiday" Daryl asked sarcastically, not really getting his friend's mood swings once again.

"Well aye, I got someone fondlin my dirty feet right now, 'f course it's gotta be a fuckin spa holiday. I mean I got ta dive in a beautiful body of water today, I'm down in the South, everyone wants a piece of me, I'm eating local delicacies like squirrels, there's sunshine sunshine sunshine and crazy wrinkly people who stagger around like old drunks. Perfect holiday. Georgia's finest tour. Next stop - Savannah" he said but then stopped smirking, because then he remembered why he was heading there. Daryl slowed down with his caring and tensed, and this time Connor could feel it.

They were quiet for while until the hunter was almost finished. Connor got lost in thoughts for a while, and the truth was that he didn't even know what he was supposed to feel like. He was beyond excited and his heart kept beating in his chest every single time he remembered that it was true, that it wasn't a dream. His baby brother was alive. Down here, in the same state, maybe three hours away from him. One year of being separated from each other. One year of pain, depression and heartbreak. And now this. It could be over soon.

He got ripped out of his train of thoughts when Daryl let go of his ankle and sighed.

"That's it" he said and got back up.

"You wanna eat something? I found this can of beans back in the kitchen" he went on and headed for the food, but Connor just shook his head.

"Nah. 'm good. My guts are filled with 'too much information at once' right now" he said and Daryl looked at his friend with a frown. Although the Irishman had gained muscles and weight he still looked rather skinny, so he didn't really like the fact that his friend was practically running on alcohol and cigarettes all the time. But he wasn't in the mood for fighting or talking about that, because he knew that his friend's lack of appetite had something to do with his brother, and he didn't want to talk about him.

The hunter sat down on an old chair close to the sofa and put his feet on the table.

"Suit yourself" he muttered and started opening the can to eat some of it himself, because he was hungry after all the running around. Connor was just sitting there, moving his fingers through his messy blonde hair, eyes fixed on his twisted ankle but not really looking at it anyway. There it was again, his mind was slipping, his body was drained, and despite all his previous jokes he just didn't look too good.

"Well go on then" Daryl growled and Connor looked at him.

"What?"

The hunter leaned back and shrugged.

"Go crash for the night. I got it covered. I'll do the first shift. Kick your ass outta bed in a couple 'a hours."

Connor shook his head and folded his arms over his belly while leaning his head back on the backrest of the couch so he could give his neck a break.

"Nah. Told ye. 'm good. Ain't even tired" he answered. Maybe he was lying there, because he -was- tired, but he was too excited and the thoughts kept spinning in his head, so he was actually quite sure that he wasn't going to fall asleep anyway.

"Connor" Daryl said, sounding displeased and angry.

The Irishman turned his head to look at his friend, wanting to snap back that the man was supposed to shut it because he didn't get shit anyway, but the hunter kept going.

"Your bro's alive. And he probably ain't going nowhere. And even if he did or does, we're gonna find him and he's gonna be fine. Alright. "

Connor just looked at his friend, and he was actually surprised how much he had needed those words right now. Without even knowing it. He was usually a tough fucker, he could jump out of windows, face soldiers and thugs, shoot his way through countless walkers and run around dirty sewers, but when it was about his brother then he was an emotionally unstable wreck, someone who needed support. No matter how much he hated to admit that.

This was another reason why he had been absolutely heartbroken the day his father had died. Murphy had been heartbroken himself, and they had wept together as their father was dying in their arms, but as soon as they had been exiting the building to face the police force Murphy had handled it a whole lot better than him. His brother had been stronger in this very moment, he had stopped crying to face the men who were going to arrest them like man.

He, on the other hand, had still been crying even in front of the police. Not the pathetic sobbing kind of crying, but the tears had kept coming and running down his cheeks because his father had died. The one person he had considered 'above' him. He and Murphy were twins, but he had always taken on the role of the big brother. Which meant caring about and for Murphy 24/7. Doing him good, giving him strength and support. And with their father back in their life he'd had a person like that of his own. Someone to give him strength, someone to make proud and not be proud of, someone who was older and wiser than him, someone who could emotionally support him for once in a way that Murphy couldn't.

And now he had Daryl, and although his friend was younger than him he was the one who kept him grounded in situations like that, who was able to step up and be the leader, someone who took care of him right then and there. The hunter ate another bunch of beans and then chewed and swallowed carefully, only to keep talking once his mouth was empty again.

"Now go get your ass up there and sleep before I change my mind and you can look for your stupid brother on your own. Good lord" he muttered, his usual grumpy self showing once again, just to mask the fact that he cared a lot. Connor smirked tiredly, and although he still didn't feel like sleeping he supposed that he probably should try. He needed to be fit the next day, so he wouldn't fall asleep or pass out during their possible reunion.

Reunion. With Murphy.

Just thinking about that made his hands shake and his heart beat faster.
He needed to move before he lost his mind due to the anticipation, so he got up with a tired sigh and stretched.

"Sappose yer right" he yawned and limped towards the stairs to the bedrooms while scratching his head.

He was halfway up the stairs when he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Daryl.

"And hey" he said and the hunter looked up at him, spoon still in his mouth.

"Thanks fer getting me outta the water and saving my ass every time" he said and Daryl awkwardly moved the spoon out of his mouth.

"Yer a good friend" the Irishman went on and nodded.

"Murph's gonna like ye" he said and Daryl wanted to roll his eyes but wouldn't.

Of course. Such a nice statement and compliment had to turn into a fucking soap opera over Murphy fucking MacManus all over again.
Oh how he wanted to rip the skin off that kid's bones because he was so goddamn annoying without even being here in person.

"Ain't so sure about that" he just growled and looked at his beans again.

"Just wait and see. Tomorrow" Connor said and sounded so hopeful, so excited, almost childish, which made Daryl clench his fingers around the spoon. His friend soon left the room by going further up the stairs and then entering one of the bedrooms. The younger of the two friends looked up at the stairs once again and kept chewing, slowly and hard because he was so frustrated.

Lonely.

That was the right word, actually. He was lonely and getting lonelier still. It wasn't like he didn't want his friend to be happy. Quite the opposite. He really did. After seeing everything that Connor had been through and done to himself the guy really deserved that. Happiness. His old life, this kid that seemed to matter so so much to him. But the happier Connor got the lonelier he became, and that actually hurt in his chest, far more than his broken rip or healing shot wound.

He moved the spoon around the can and looked at the beans, his mind now replaying countless missed opportunities. Their relationship had been a train wreck. Fucked up, out of control, always wrong, violent and far too intense. He'd done so many things wrong, said so many wrong things, and everything seemed to pay off now. Murphy was far more valuable than him because of all that. He was just a 'good friend' to Connor, and he was sure that even the whole kissing bullshit had been fake and 'last minute'. The one time his friend had done it all by himself had been the night before he was supposed to die, so he was sure that it had just been a 'fuck it, now or never' moment.

This was probably their last night together. As just the two of them. And even now Connor couldn't stop talking about Murphy, couldn't await their reunion and so much that he didn't want to sleep or eat. Daryl wanted to be that person. Just once in his life he wanted to be more than 'a good friend', 'redneck trash' or an 'excellent hunter'. He wasn't the precious little 'baby brother' anymore, because Merle was dead. Rick had Judith and Carl now, and he was pretty sure that Carol had hooked up with that one Woodbury guy by now.

And here he was, all by himself, lonely, and eating fucking baked beans.

He really was worthless trash.

He looked at the food and wanted to throw it, but knew that it was a waste of supplies and that Connor needed to eat later.
So he put it on the table, grabbed Connor's gun and then headed for the french window, to sit down outside and brood for a while.

He didn't know what time it was, but he was so tired that he just couldn't keep watch any longer. He'd been walking around the neighbourhood for a while, all around the house without straying too far, so he could keep his mind and eyes busy, and so that maybe he could find a bunch of cigarettes. He didn't find any but did encounter quite an amount of walkers.

They made the hunter feel a bit uneasy because some of them were getting more and more interested in him, far too interested for his liking after spending so many weeks of walkers not giving him a second glance. But even with all the weirdness going on he considered them their lucky charm, a natural alarm system. They still wouldn't attack him or Connor, but they certainly were going to attack soldiers or thugs, which would end up with shots getting fired. Shots were loud, and they would know when to get the hell out of here. So he didn't mind the small herd too much. The evening was quiet and almost peaceful, and he only needed to head back inside the abandoned house when it started raining. And when he was getting way too tired.

Daryl entered the house through the French door and headed inside just before the rain really started coming down. He took a deep breath because he was quite exhausted from the shift and then turned around to head up the stairs, because it was about damn time that Connor took over. He had still tried to delay the shift changeover for as long as possible, because even now he still feared that the Irishman could take off without him. But his body told him that he was too tired, and he knew Connor too well by now. His friend wouldn't just do that. Probably.

It wasn't too hard to find the blonde up here, because only one door to his left was closed. The hunter had a small private smile on his face because he planned on scaring the shit out of his friend to wake him up. What he didn't expect though when he opened the door, was to find the bed empty. For a moment his heart stopped beating and his eyes widened in shock because this couldn't be true. Connor couldn't have left without him. He opened the door even more, panic rushing over him until he nearly had a heart attack when he heard a gentle sniff somewhere to his left. He opened the door even further and then saw his friend sitting there in the corner, on a chair that was facing the window.

He was sitting there face down, healthy hand shielding his face as gentle rhythmic sniffs could be heard, and Daryl knew what was going on right away. He was even more surprised by that than seeing the room empty. Connor leaving to find his brother had been a plausible scenario. But seeing the guy sitting there and falling back into his old patterns even after finding out that his brother was still alive was something absolutely unexpected. The hunter walked over to his friend, not really sure how to react or what to do, but he really wanted to know what was going on.

"Hey" he said gently and Connor startled a bit.

The Irishman sat up straight and wiped his face on the old jacket he was wearing after having found it somewhere up here.
He sniffed loudly and then looked at Daryl, blinking rapidly and cracking a smile.

"Oh, hey. Didn't hear ye. My time t'watch over the house?" he asked and sorted his clothes with another awkward sniff.

Daryl just stood there and watched his friend with a worried frown.
There was awkward silence for a moment, and it was still far too obvious that Connor had been very upset just a minute earlier.

"Why you crying?" Daryl asked quietly and carefully, walking around the room a bit because he didn't like the situation at all. It wasn't like he -couldn't- handle it. They had been there. Many times before. Back on the farm. And this was exactly the point. Connor had been 'fine' after the farm. Better at least. Better than he'd ever seen him. He wasn't supposed to be like that now, and it even scared the hunter a bit. Connor snorted and wiped his cheeks once more.

"Crying? You stupid? 'm not crying. Cryin's fer pussies. Just don't have any Kleenex on me" he said and then looked at Daryl, cracking a smile which the hunter destroyed by cocking an eyebrow, making it clear that he saw right through the act. Connor sniffed once again and then turned his head to look out of the window with a headshake.

"Jesus" he muttered and it was quiet yet again.

"Guess those are just…tears of joy. I mean, m'twin's alive. I'm just happy. Cryin, cos I'm so happy I am" he said and nodded to himself, as if he was trying to reassure himself. He remembered Romeo's choice of words. Good old Romeo. Gay guns and crying. He wasn't like that. Nope. Not at all. Hard men doing hard shit and all.

"Yeah. You look real happy" Daryl said sarcastically and folded his arms, just standing there and waiting for an explanation because he was really curious and worried.
He didn't get the Irishman, even after all these months he couldn't really read him.

"Fuck" Connor said and leaned forward on the chair to rub his eyes.

Silence yet again. Rain drumming on the window pane and sill.

"We're gonna find 'im. Don't worry" Daryl muttered, because this was all he could come up with, awkwardly trying to make his friend feel better somehow.

Connor snorted and shook his head.

"It ain't fuckin that" he muttered and watched the rain to gather strength for a while.
He finally turned his head and looked at Daryl, no longer faking a smile and actually showing emotions.

"I can't fuckin stop thinking about that day. The last time I saw him, the last time he saw me, I…I fuckinshot him, man" he said, his voice quivering a bit because he was close to tears because of the terrible memories.

"Right in the head. M'own twin brother. I nearly killed 'im. How.." he let out a frustrated sigh and then seemed to get angry.

"How on earth is he sapposed t'forgive me this?" he said and moved in the chair a bit, to contain his anger.

"I mean I saw all those fucking documentaries and shit about that. Headshots like tha, those made people cripples. Drooling illiterate cripples with…with memory loss or..or paralysis and people with half their skulls missing and..Jesus fuckin Christ, my headshots usually blew brains and eyes out and killed people!"

He scratched his bandaged hand nervously and almost manically, gradually riling himself up.

"Even if we're going ta find him in Savannah, he ain't gonna fergive me that shit. God knows if he even remembers me. God…god knows what he looks like now, half his skull could be missing cos of me and I ain't fuckin sure if I can live with that. Seeing it every day, seeing all tha fuckin pain and hurt in his eyes and fuck.."

His eyes were really watery by now, and he was close to absolutely losing it.
Daryl just stood there, paralyzed by everything he was hearing, unable to do anything about it just now.

"I destroyed fuckin -everything- between us with that shot. I just know it, because I cannot feel a fucking thing. I can't feel 'im anymore. I know it sounds cheesy and cliché, but wedid have a connection and what I had with me brother was fucking special and even if we do find him all of that is fuckin gone and it is all my fucking fault. He can be standing right in front of me but he's gonna be changed because of me. The Murph I knew and fuckin loved is dead no matter what, cos I killed 'im, man."

"Connor" Daryl managed to say, trying to stop his friend from talking about all that.
But the Irishman wouldn't stop, he was only getting started. He suddenly got up and started pacing around the room.

"And I know that it's a fucked up thing ta say and I'm so -happy- and glad that he's still alive, but part of me wishes that tha shot had been fatal. Because fer real, just look at this fuckin world, man" he said and pointed out of the window, at the shuffling corpses on the street that were only being illuminated by lighting every couple of minutes.

"You were right back at that office when we got there. Itis a fucked world and I blew it because I was selfish. Because of me there's no fuckin cure in this world, no hope, it's all walking dead people and cannibalism and rape and wars and fucking running running running and I don't want him in a world like that. He doesn't deserve ta live in a world like this. He's sapposed ta be up there in the fields of the lord and rest in peace without suffering. Even before all this shit started I always worried too much about 'im and I just can't fuckin take it. Losing him a second time sooner or later and I just fuckin…"

A hard slap suddenly snapped him out of his manic state, and he finally realized that Daryl was standing right in front of him, staring at him.

"Just shut up" the hunter said matter of factly and looked him right in the eye.

"He's your brother. You say you're his big bro, then fucking act like it" he said and Connor tried to walk away from him, not wanting to hear it, but Daryl grabbed him by his shirt and kept him where he was.

"You listen to me. You do what big bros do. You find the kid, and you look after him. Sure, yah nearly killed him, but the little shit grew up with you. And if your connection really was so damn special, then he's gonna fuckin understand why yah had t'do it. Else I'm gonna make him understand. And he asked yah t'shoot him, remember? He's gonna forgive you, because that shit's forgivable. But let me tell you, if there's one thing family don't ever forgive, then it's when yah decide to abandon 'em on purpose cos you're a selfish coward."

Connor just looked at his friend, wanting to say something and defend himself, but Daryl kept going.

"All that shit on my back, all the shit with my father that Merle didn't protect me from cos he was locked up somewhere. I could forgive 'im all that because I knew he'd have done anything t'help me, because he didn't have no other choice. But if there's one thing I can't ever forgive that bastard, then it's how he abandoned my ass on purpose, drove over there knowing he was gonna die and left me all alone. So you don't ever fuckin abandon your family, yah hear me? Not cos of some whiny feelings or feelings or 'heroic' bullshit. You stick together no matter what. You face all the bullshit yah gotta face as long as you're there and watch his ass."

He grabbed Connor's healthy shoulder and then squeezed hard.

"Now get your shit together and fuckin rest. Listen to me. We're gonna get going in a couple of hours, we're gonna get t'Savannah and we're gonna find him and yah two are gonna be justfine."

Connor nodded and sniffed awkwardly.

"Aye..aye" he repeated and then looked around the room, whereas Daryl urged him towards the bed.

"Good lord" he muttered, trying to lighten the mood a bit and make the situation less tense.

"I should get me a goddamn headshrinker award or something" he growled because he was getting fed up with the whole thing but at the same time really wanted his friend to get better. Connor did let out a surprised laugh, one that he hadn't intended and then finally did as he was told. He fell down on the bed, on his belly and buried his hands underneath the pillow that he used to rest his head on.

"Aye, ye really should" he answered, while getting in a comfortable position and fixing one eye on Daryl.
He then gave him a little grateful smile.

Daryl nodded awkwardly and supposed that he could pretty much screw his turn to sleep. His goddamned friend was too unstable, too stirred up to keep proper watch anyway. He let out a gentle sigh.Fucking great. All the shit this stupid leprechaun made him do. He supposed that maybe he could get some sleep inside the car as soon as they found one, so he wanted to get back downstairs and wait until sunrise. He was halfway through the room when Connor suddenly called out from the bed.

"Wait" he said and Daryl stopped walking to turn around and look at his friend with tired eyes.

"Stay" the blonde muttered after a moment and both friends looked at each other for a while. Daryl frowned and shifted a bit.

"No. I gotta keep watch and…"

"Jesus, Daryl. Fuck the walkers. I think we're both past the 'they won't attack us' schtick now. Should any of those soldier fucks or thugs come then we're gonna hear them half a mile away cos they gotta shoot their way through all those lamebrains out there."

Daryl wouldn't move an inch, but Connor moved over on the bed to give his friend some space.

"Come on. We're both tired as fuck. And I'd rather not be fuckin alone right now. Ye see how that went."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah" he said and let out a gentle sigh after looking at his resting friend just a while longer.

"Alright. Just let me…get our shit up here and walk the perimeter once more."