Resurrection

Chapter 28 - On The Run

Daryl was running through the woods, breathing heavily and turning around every couple of seconds. No matter how fast he ran, for some reason the walkers were always right behind him, coming from all sides, trying to get him. But this wasn't even the worst part about the whole thing. Whenever he turned around he could see that Murphy was still right behind him, zigzagging his way around and trying to stab every walker he could reach. Just seeing the younger MacManus made the hunter grit his teeth, because he seriously didn't get why on earth the kid had decided to go with him instead of his own brother.

Judging by everything Connor had told him both twins had never stayed a day apart before the 'incident' had happened. They had always been together, like they were one person, so seeing Murphy do that just seemed so terribly out of character for the kid. He kind of had an idea why he was doing it though, because it still looked like Murphy didn't like being around Connor after the shot.

The hunter turned his head once more, looking back in the direction where their camp was. Where Connor was. The guy was all by him-freaking-self back there. Immunity or not, walker attacks or not, it wasn't a good idea to leave Connor to himself in the middle of some woods, surrounded by countless undead. He'd spent a year with the guy and knew that he was smart enough, but his smartness wasn't exactly going to help him in a territory like this. Connor had spent years in the more 'untouched' Irish landscapes as a farmer, but that didn't change anything about the fact that the guy wasn't a very good tracker or survivalist.

He knew that Connor was probably losing his shit right now, out of his mind because he had lost both his sibling and him, and he just knew that the Irishman was going to run off no matter what. Connor wasn't going to stay back at the camp and wait for them to return. He was going to leave and look for them, and there was a pretty high chance that he could get lost during the process. Or even worse - they could keep walking past each other and never find each other again.

After stabbing a walker right in front of him Daryl turned his head once more, glaring at fighting Murphy and clenching his fists. There was no way he was going to be with this MacManus instead of Connor. And even if he did find his friend again, it still meant that he had to look after Murphy until they got back, that he would have to explain every tiny little scratch on the kid later. He didn't want to be responsible for Murphy, although he knew that the other man was actually three years older than him. Connor had -made- his brother the younger sibling with all his talk, so it was just natural that Murphy felt like a little brother to him as well.

Out of all people. He had to be on the run with Murphy freaking MacManus.

Great.

"Go back t'yah freaking brother! I got it covered!" he yelled yet again, a useless attempt to lose the other man.

Murphy stabbed another walker and ran even faster.

"Aye sure, yer the only fuckin one who could get attacked by those filthy fuckin assholes!" Murphy yelled back and kept running until he was right beside Daryl.

"Do ye even know where ye fuckin goin?"

"I don't need no babysitter yah stupid paddy!" Daryl snapped back, suddenly being painfully reminded of his past with Connor.
It was exactly like back on the farm. Annoying Irishman who kept following him no matter where he went, asking stupid questions.

Jesus fucking Christ, Connor and Murphy really are twins, he thought and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"And I ain't gonna let people get fuckin eaten alive just cos they're too fuckin proud 'n retarded!" Murphy yelled as an answer, which made Daryl snort.

"If someone's gonna get eaten, it's gotta be you little shit! Out of the two of us, yah the one who already got chewed on cos he's too stupid to watch his own ass!"

"Oh fuck ye!" Murphy yelled and suddenly shoved Daryl hard, making him lose his balance, stumble and then fall. They had been running down a shallow hill until now, which only made the fall even worse. The hunter rolled down the hill, not being able to really control his fall at all. Murphy froze in the spot for a second, eyes opened wide and watching the other man crash.

He hadn't intended to make him fall like that, rolling down the hill and towards some of the walkers. For just a moment Murphy couldn't move, heart pounding and thoughts spinning in his head. He was beyond furious, angered by Daryl's words. It had triggered him, making his mind repeat every single one of the few memories he had from that day, getting bit and shot. It still hurt so much that he couldn't put words to it, triggering what felt like demons inside of him, demons who wanted out and punish everybody involved. That darker, new and strange part of him wanted to make Daryl suffer for these words, leave him here in the woods, on the ground, to the walkers. He could turn around and go back to the camp, back to Connor and leave. Tell him that although he had tried, the walkers had managed to get his friend. That he hadn't been pushed because he was a complete asshole.

Except that he wasn't like that. Murphy gritted his teeth hard and clenched his fists, forcing himself to control his inner demons, thoughts, memories and anger. No. He wasn't like that. And he certainly wasn't like Connor. He wouldn't leave people anywhere, especially when they were probably hurt and most importantly - surrounded by flesh eating monsters.

"Shit" he gasped and grabbed his gun, running down the hill and almost falling himself because he was so eager to get to Daryl in time to save him from the coming small group of walkers. The hunter was already trying to fight the first undead that tried to attack him while he was still lying on the ground. Just when he was about to stab the undead a shot rang through the woods, sending the walker flying off Daryl. The hunter raised his head and looked at Murphy with wide eyes.

"Are yah insane?!" he shouted, because he couldn't believe that the younger MacManus would risk a loud gunshot when they were trying to get away from walkers. But Murphy wouldn't answer, because then he kept pulling the trigger, killing one walker after another until the entire small group of undead dropped to the ground, leaving them alone at last.

Murphy sprinted down the hill and then came to a halt right in front of Daryl, having a quick look around and then putting his gun away.

"We gotta go" the Irishman said, and tried to offer Daryl a hand to get him back up, but the hunter just gave him an angry and hate-filled glare.

"No shit! Didn't nobody tell yah that it's beyond stupid t'fire a gun anywhere near those lamebrains, yah emo freak? You probably made it worse!"

"Shut it! Why do ye think I wanna get te fuck away fram here ye fuckin hillbilly?!" Murphy shouted back and now regretted having saved Daryl from the walkers.

Good god, how much he heated the freaking guy!

"Come on!" he roared and then kicked Daryl hard, trying to animate him to take his hand and get back up.

But the hunter just huffed and got up by himself.

"Don't freakin touch me, yah plague" he growled and sorted his clothes while having a quick look around.

"Go fuck yerself" Murphy answered and then started running, because he knew that despite his urge to get into a fight with Daryl they really needed to get away from this place, away from the walkers. The younger of the two men considered running in the other direction to finally get away from Murphy, make a detour and head back to the camp on his own. But he knew that Connor would kill him for this, knew that they only stood chance of surviving this if they worked together. The hunter crouched down to get his knife back and then followed the younger MacManus with a pissed look on his face.

"MURPH!" Connor roared for what felt like the millionth time, vocal chords vibrating and aching from the constant volume. He wandered about the woods aimlessly, not straying too far away from the still burning campfire because he knew that there was still a possibility that Murphy and Daryl would return there soon. But he was still more than panicked. It took a lot to phase him, to truly scare him, but this was his worst case scenario right now. After getting his twin back for only couple of hours he had already lost him again. Just like last year, to a large herd of walkers. And just to make it worse he had lost Daryl on top of that, with Murphy. Which made his worst nightmare terrible reality.

He was all alone.

Like back then.

No Murphy. No Daryl.

"MURPH!" he tried yet again, voice filled with anger, panic, but also desperation. There were still walkers all around him. Trying to leave, but only coming back whenever they heard his voice echo through the surrounding woods. The undead would stagger all around him, searching for the source that made the noise. Noise, that was promising them their prey. But to them it looked and felt like no one alive was with them, no one worth eating, because they still thought the immune older MacManus as one of them. If their brains were still working then the undead certainly would be confused by what was happening around them, how they could clearly hear a human prey scream but not find anyone. It still freaked Connor out himself, but the fear of getting bitten or eaten alive was nothing compared to the other fear he felt right now, the fear of being alone and losing both his brother and best friend.

"MURPH! DARYL! ANSWER ME!" he roared, slowly getting more and more angry.

He couldn't deal with this shit right now. Not after everything that had happened during the past couple days. Not when his relationship Murphy was -slowly- getting better again, not when his relationship with Daryl had changed so much. He had gone from having absolutely everything - a best friend and the miraculous return of his brother- to having absolutely nothing yet again, and this was too much for him to handle.

He tried to calm himself down, tried to remember that he was the one always staying calm and rational. Murphy was supposed to be the one with the temper. He was the one having explanations and plans all the time. The Irishman tried to turn off his emotional side and take a rational approach. He knew that screaming around wouldn't change anything. He would just lure all the walkers back to this place, and should Daryl and Murphy return then he might end up putting them in danger because of this. And he certainly didn't want to do that. Connor had a look around the surrounding areas of the camp and tried to come up with all the facts.

Daryl and Murphy were probably together. They had to be. Daryl had left the tent, walked past Murphy, they both had been outside together, not too far away from the camp at all times. They were both smart enough to know that they stood a better chance of surviving if they stuck together. And both Daryl and Murphy had their own respective advantages.

His friend was an expert hunter and tracker. He knew his way around the Georgian woods, knew how to survive and get back to the camp. Preventing Murphy from getting lost in the woods. But Daryl was no longer immune, meaning that he was vulnerable with walkers around. But this was Murphy's advantage, because just like him his brother was also immune to the walkers' attacks. His younger sibling could protect Daryl from the undead. He knew that both his friend and brother couldn't stand each other, but he also knew that both were capable of looking past their hatred to survive.

So far, so good.

But that still didn't keep the bad thoughts at bay. What if Daryl and Murphy weren't together? What if Murphy couldn't find his way back to the camp? What if Daryl got bit because there were too many walkers? What if he could never find them again? So many what ifs were torturing him, which was why he was having a hard time trying to stay calm. He grabbed Daryl's crossbow and walked a bit faster. He had taken their bags and his friends weapon with him, just in case someone else came across their camp while they were trying to get through this chaos. If he weren't so freaking terrified and nervous he would have enjoyed having his friend's crossbow to play around with, but right now he was far from enjoying anything. Whenever a walker got too close to him he would stab them, to start cleaning out the camp on his own in case the two other men came back.

But once again his mind was telling him something different.

What if they didn't?

"MURPH!" he shouted once more, louder than ever.

a couple of hours later….

The sun was slowly rising above them, illuminating the surrounding trees and casting shadows across the forest floor. Murphy and Daryl were still trying to make their way back, but it was going to be a long walk, considering that they had spent far too much time running from and killing walkers. After hours of doing just that they had finally managed to lose the herd, but also their sense of direction to some extend. Daryl thought that they were on the right track, judging by all the countless footprints around this area, but if he was honest he wasn't -too- sure about it. The fact that he was pissed and in pain wasn't exactly helping, because after all the running around his broken rip was making itself known once more.

But he kept walking, trying not to be to obvious about it because he could feel that Murphy was watching him. The younger MacManus was a bit behind him, keeping an eye out on any other walkers and minding his own business. Daryl hated that the guy was still with him. Even worse - that Murphy had helped him a lot during their run. Killing walkers, watching his back and keeping all the countless attacks at bay. Daryl hated that he had to admit that he wouldn't have made it on his own, no matter how tough and experienced he really was.

He didn't get why Connor's brother would possibly do that, considering that they absolutely hated each other. And here they were, working together, trying to get back to the one man who pretty much mattered the most to the both of them. And since there was nothing else to do Daryl decided to break the ice first. Because now that Connor wasn't around, he finally got the chance to talk to the kid on his own.

"Can't believe yah made it this far on yah own. Been fightin like a girl" he muttered, his way of starting a conversation and secretly acknowledging the fact that Murphy had been doing a pretty good job this night.

"Fuck you" Murphy just answered, no longer reacting to Daryl's teasing.
Just like the hunter he was also exhausted from the running, and too lazy to get into a fight now.

There was silence for a pretty long while, as Daryl tried to come up with something to say whereas Murphy brooded. Daryl chewed on his lower lip and kept walking, eyes fixed on the countless footprints on the forest floor. They were walking in the opposite direction, basing their route on the knowledge that the herd had come from their camp. It just had to be the right route, leading them back to camp and hopefully - back to Connor.

The hunter raised his head and looked at the sky, wondering how his friend was doing and whether he was looking for them. He really hoped that Connor wouldn't stray too far away from their camp, so it wouldn't be too hard to find each other again. He seriously just wanted to get out of this shithole, find a car and get back to Woodbury, so he could mind his own business and gain some distance from the twins.

The two of them obviously had a lot to talk about, judging by how Murphy had refused to stay with Connor and go with him instead, the one man he seemed to despise the most right now. Or maybe the brothers had already talked about everything and there was nothing to be prepared for? Oh, how much he wanted that to be true, no matter how much it was going to hurt Connor. He wanted to stay the most important person in the Irishman's life, he wanted everything to go back to normal.

Once again the certain possibility got very interesting. He turned his head a bit and tried to look at Murphy without the other noticing it. They were all alone, deep inside the woods. He had a knife, Murphy had a gun. And he didn't know the kid, and certainly didn't count him as part of their group, their family. Accidents happened all the time. He could just turn around, murder the kid and leave him here. Tell Connor that he hadn't even seen him, that he had been all on his own. It could be kind of ironic. He knew that he had told his friend multiple times that he didn't blame him for Merle's death. But even after so many weeks had passed he secretly did.

Connor had been the one leaving the prison with his brother. He had been the one returning his bloody injured body.

To this day he really didn't know what had happened. Connor had told him that the Governor had shot Merle. Not him. He had sworn that he was innocent, despite his numerous talk about how he was going to kill Merle prior the 'accident'. Deep deep down Daryl knew that his friend was telling the truth. That despite his religious fanatic beliefs and jealousy he never would've killed Merle.

But still. The grief made him think about doing stupid fucked up things. Like killing Murphy over it and making Connor feel the same pain he had felt when he had lost Merle. An eye for an eye and all that. Just for a moment he placed his hand on his knife, playing with the thought, imagining the bloody murder and actually liking it. And it was a bit shocking to know that the only thing that held him back right now was the fact that he didn't want to hurt Connor. He couldn't care less about Murphy, but he knew what the kid's death would do to his friend. Had already done to him.

So no murder.

Daryl sighed and let go of the knife, relaxing his muscles and leading Connor's brother through the forest.
He decided to stop it with the mocking and tried to get to know the younger MacManus instead.
To maybe fight his inner constant urge to kill the guy.

"So how'd you get outta Boston?" he asked, curious, because he didn't know about that part of the story. Connor had told him everything about the outbreak in Boston, their struggle to get out of there, Murphy's injuries and the apartment, but everything that had happened after that was new territory to both him and Connor, who probably didn't have the guts to ask about that.

"On foot" came the short answer, which made Daryl snort, and maybe even smirk a tiny bit.

Murphy was obviously less chatty than Connor, and a whole lot more spirited. It was weird knowing all that and getting that kind of vibe. Whenever he turned around it got even more clear. The face they kind of shared, the attitude, the temper. For some reason it felt like Murphy was his twin, not Connor's. Like he was the little/big brother he'd never wanted.

"Yah real chatty, aren'tcha" he said, not even getting why the hell he was talking to the kid anyway. Maybe he just wanted to understand the hype, get why Connor would never stop talking about the guy, praising him to the heavens. But so far he really couldn't see the reason, which was why he kept asking questions.

Murphy snorted and glared at Daryl for a moment.

"'s cos I don't fuckin talk ta face stealers" he growled, which made Daryl freeze right on the spot, slowly turning around and looking at Murphy.

"You stole my face, emo kid."

Both men glared at each other, and although the tension was slowly building up between them yet again neither of them would launch themselves into a fight.

"Yeah? Ye fuckin wish. If this was yer face and I had ta wear it, I'd rather fuckin shoot myself than being as godamn fuckin ugly as some dirty redneck!" Murphy snapped and then narrowed his eyes even more.

"Oh wait, yer fuckin boyfriend already did that fer me" he added, not so angry and loud anymore but far more bitter.
Daryl knew that this wasn't directed at him anymore, but at Connor, and this was enough to make his blood boil.

Murphy walked past him, ready to keep walking, but Daryl wouldn't follow. Or let him leave. Because he had been right just a minute ago. He was all alone with the younger MacManus, Connor wasn't there to fuss over him or hear and see what was going on between them, so he could do and say whatever he wanted, whatever Connor would never do and say.

"He ain't my boyfriend" he snapped, but Murphy kept walking.

"He's your goddamn freakin twin brother you ungrateful little shit" he went on and followed the younger MacManus so he could grab his arm and stop him from walking.

"So yah got shot in yah head. Boo-fuckin-hoo. How old are, yah? 12? We all lost people, got hurt, or nearly killed since this shit started.
Stop whining about shit that happened a freaking year ago and face it. Yah the lucky one outta yah two!"

Murphy finally stopped walking and turned around to look at Daryl, teeth gritted, lips a harsh pale line and eyes burning with anger.

"Tha fuck did you just say?"

Daryl shifted a bit and glared back at the younger MacManus. And no matter how much he really wanted to punch Murphy in the face, the conversation was actually more important right now. He needed to say it, needed to make the other man understand and tell him all the shit Connor was probably going to keep from him forever otherwise. And not just Murphy made him angry in this very moment, but also his friend, because he couldn't understand why Connor would rather keep suffering and blaming himself instead of confronting his twin with the ugly truth about what he'd been through because of the incident.

"Yeah, you heard me! All I ever hear ever since we found yah is yap yap yap I was shot yap yap yap I'm such a poor victim. I'm callin bullshit!
You got any idea what your bro's been through during the past year?"

"Well he ain't the one who got shot by his own brother and had ta find out that he just got fuckin replaced by some illiterate fuckin hillbilly!" Murphy suddenly yelled really loud, channeling his anger and letting out what actually bugged him about the whole thing.

Yeah, he knew that he should stop whining about the headshot, and truth was that he wasn't whining about that at all. The whole being with Daryl for a couple of hours and seeing his face all the time had made him so angry again, because the guy really looked a lot like him and seemed to be getting along with Connor very well, whereas he was too fucked up because he couldn't remember anything. He hated the guy, hated to know that Connor had been with him the whole year whereas he had been all alone most of the time, with groups, but never with real friends or family. He hated to know that he had been replaced just like that. With a freaking lookalike.

Daryl suddenly moved and shoved the younger MacManus with an angry frown.

"So maybe he shot yah, that's on him. Actually no, even that shit ain't on him. You told 'im t'do it! Yah asked him t'blow your head off. He told me yah forced him into this shit by making him promise. And since the guy's too pussy to break the news for yah, guess I'll have t'do it. You fucked him up that day. Yah the reason the guy constantly tried t'get himself killed. The shit your bro's been through is about ten times worse then your silly little shot. He got shot, too, he fucked himself up in a car crash. He got bit. Twice, in case he didn't tell yah about this as well. And on top of that I had t'cut him from some freaking rope in a stinkin stable t'keep him from offing himself and all that shit's on you! If someone's got the right t'whine about getting hurt, it's gotta be him!"

During his entire speech Daryl got louder and louder, the anger suddenly taking over his body and making him lash out. Just like Connor he had kept that shit in all the time, and he was actually beyond relieved that he could finally let go of that. Tell the person responsible for everything what really bugged him and make him understand how incredibly frustrated he really was. By the fact that Connor wouldn't talk about it, and by the fact how he had been the one having to endure all of this with him for the past year, without really being able to do anything about it. But he could do something about it now, which was exactly what he did.

He shoved Murphy hard so the younger MacManus landed on his ass.

"And if I hear yah whine 'bout that day one more time when your bro's around then I'm gonna stomp yah ass! You should be the one begging on your knees t'be forgiven for all the shit you put him through!"

There was silence after that, and Daryl was actually surprised how heavily he was breathing all of a sudden. His chest was heaving and his heart pumping, so he tried to calm himself down before he might end up actually killing Murphy in his fit of rage. He sorted his clothes instead and then started walking, past the younger MacManus who was still sitting on the ground and staring at him with wide eyes. Murphy did no longer look angry but shocked, but Daryl just ignored him and kept walking.

The Irishman was just sitting there as Daryl's words echoed in his head, repeating themselves over and over again and shocking him even more. He had not known about all this, because Connor hadn't told him yet. Up until now it had been all about him, his injuries, his past year, and he had believed himself to be the most hurt out of the two of them. But Daryl had told him something different. All the words kept ringing in his head, reminding him of the several dreams he'd had, reminding him of that one particular dream he'd had about a year ago.

Hanging.

He'd been dreaming about that before. How he'd been trying to hang himself.

Back then he'd thought it to be some weird dream, some fucked up way his abused brain used to handle the trauma, but now he had to realize that it had been something else entirely. Connor. That had been Connor in his dream. Connor's reality.

He dug his fingers in the dirt, fighting both the incredible anger but also emotional turmoil.
He swallowed hard and tried to form words, but the shock kept him from that for a moment.

"He… he tried t'kill 'imself?" he finally managed to ask, voice thick with emotion because he was fighting really hard not to start crying or screaming. He was so utterly shocked. Despite all his anger and hurt he'd never wanted anything like this. Punish Connor with silence? Yes. Punish Connor with lack of loving words and deeds? Yes. Maybe even go back to Savannah and part ways? Yes. But never -ever- would he wish for Connor to die as punishment for what he had done a year ago. And yet it sounded like his sibling had tried to do just that to himself.

Although he couldn't remember much his guts told him that this was so terribly terribly wrong, so terribly out of character.
So maybe Connor had looked a little tired, a little upset and worn out, but he really hadn't looked -that- bad, had he?

Murphy turned his head to look at Daryl, who had stopped walking and looked back down at him. The hunter still didn't look too friendly, but at least he didn't look so angry and full of hatred anymore. He actually looked a bit understanding. The other man folded his arms and nodded, just giving a quiet "Hmhm" as answer. He didn't look as devastated as Murphy, but he also seemed a bit upset by the whole topic.

Fuck.

He'd been so childish about everything. Murphy suddenly wondered if he had made it worse for his sibling with all his talk and pushing away. He'd thought that Connor had been fine, considering that he had found himself a friend in Daryl. But if the hunter really was telling the truth then everything had been different. He was the lucky one. He had survived a headshot and a bite. And suddenly the not remembering much about it or his past felt like a blessing. Until Simmons told him about Connor he'd been living with nothing but the knowledge of getting shot and surviving it, but his brother had lived with the guilt and knowledge that he had killed his own twin all along.

And Jesus. He suddenly remembered the look on Connor's face when they'd first seen each other again. After the initial shock he had looked so…happy.
And he had pushed him away all the time. Yelled at him. He rememberedConnor's countless attempts to talk to him, be close to him. Can I hold ye, Murph? he remembered him ask, and he had let him but not really returned it. Daryl was really right. He was the one who had caused the most trouble, the most pain. And he remembered what Connor had told him about the promise he'd laid on him. The words he must've said a year ago.

Shoot me, Connor. I'm gonna turn, you gotta do it.

We've both seen it before. How it works. We lost Eunice like tha. And the little girl. You'n I both -knew- that as soon as you get bit you die and turn into those fuckin…things. How was I supposed ta know that yer immune, Murph? How? I was sitting next ta you fer hours after that bite. Waiting, praying my lungs out but there was no fuckin answer, no miracle, no solution. Ye wouldn't look at me, answer me, or come back. I was all on my own, in this godfersaken room, with a promise I had ta fuckin keep. So I did it.

Connor truly didn't deserve to be blamed. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure what he would've done in a situation like that. If he'd done anything different. And yet he'd kept blaming his sibling all day, accusing him of being a heartless monster, when the truth was different. His own brother had tried to take his own life because of this. Because of him. He was the heartless, selfish, fucked up monster here.

"Fuck" he said and shielded his eyes, trying really hard not to burst into tears but losing the fight. He had always been far too emotional and cursed himself for that, but right now he didn't even fucking care anymore. Everything was crashing down on him. His own pain, the memories, but the new painful information that made his soul scream. So maybe Connor had almost killed him. But he had done the same. He had almost killed his own brother, forced him into this. He sobbed hard and tried to fight even more, because it was so embarrassing to cry when Daryl was around, his enemy, although he didn't even know why they were enemies. But there they were again, the redneck's words. Repeating themselves over and over again.

Shot. Car accident. Bitten two times. Trying to get himself killed.

Just because he had asked him to take his life after the bite he had thought to be fatal.

Daryl stood there in front of Murphy, actually surprised by the younger MacManus' sudden reaction. He had expected some sort of angry outburst, maybe a couple of punches or some more yelling, but nothing like this. Murphy was sitting there in front of him, sobbing into his hands, with Daryl's words obviously having hit home. The hunter had meant to hurt the Irishman and snap him out of his state, but if he was honest - he hadn't aimed for -such- a reaction.

Oh perfect. Connor was going to give him shit for that later. He gritted his teeth and moved closer to the younger MacManus, unsure what to do, what to say or how to react. He just watched for a moment and it was obvious that Murphy was trying really hard to hide and stop his tears, but he was still way too emotional about the fact that his brother had tried to harm himself. Daryl bit his lip when Murphy wouldn't say or do anything, and then decided that it was on him to clean up this mess and get the guy to move if they wanted to get the hell away from here, because even now there was still the constant fear that the walkers could come back.

"Come on. Stop the cryin crap" he said gently and nudged Murphy's shoulder, now no longer sounding angry, he was just a bit annoyed. He was annoyed by the fact that it was so terribly obvious that Connor and Murphy were brothers, because despite their dissimilarity and different temper they were still very much alike.

"I ain't fuckin cryin" Murphy muttered but his voice was shaky, thick and kind of gave it away.

The younger MacManus got up on his own and wiped his eyes with his right forearm, only to stumble past Daryl and start walking on his own.

"Just take me back t'him. Yah know where ta fuckin go, I don'" he added and sniffed, wiping his eyes once more and eager to get away.

Daryl stayed where he was and watched Murphy a second longer. The whole thing had been pretty nasty, mean and pathetic, but he could still feel that maybe he had changed something between the twins. Simply by letting Murphy know the whole, ugly truth. He knew perfectly well that Connor was going to give him shit for this later, and he also knew that he was going to make shit worse between them because of that. There was no way he and Connor could stay close but at the same time let Connor and Murphy get close again, but just for a moment he didn't care at all. Somebody had to be the man out of the three of them, and since the MacManus twins were always busy moping about he was the only one left to do it.

He let out a gentle sigh and then followed Murphy, slowly catching up and then walking past him so he could have the lead.

They wouldn't talk after that. Wouldn't fight, shove or yell at each other. Murphy was even moodier than before. No longer crying, no longer looking upset or angry, he just ended up being in this strange stage where he wouldn't speak or do anything but walk, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at his feet. He was obviously lost in thoughts, not really in this world at all. Daryl had noticed that before, the ability of the kid to really be all introverted, quiet and keeping everything to himself. The hunter knew that Connor would be way different in a situation like this. Constantly talking, playing his act of the ever so cheery, funny and easygoing leprechaun. Trying to fool everyone that he was alright when he really wasn't. But Murphy wasn't like that at all.

His whole emotional range was obvious at all times, and he didn't seem to bother hiding it from anyone. He excluded people in his own way by simply not saying anything, just showing it with gestures and looks. And Daryl finally understood the whole vibe, understood why Connor had always been so protective of Murphy and acted as his big brother.

He seemed innocent.

In a weird kind of way. The hunter knew that the kid could put up one hell of a fight. He knew that he punched more eagerly and harder than his brother and shone with pure fury sometimes. He also knew that Murphy was tough because he had survived injuries that would kill other people, he seemed tough because he seemed to have survived a whole year on his own. Despite those injuries, despite the trauma. Murphy was a survivor, more than Connor. But despite all that he really felt like the younger, more innocent member of the three of them.

And now that the barrier had fallen, now that everything had been said and done between them Daryl felt a bit different about the kid. Back in the old days he would have kept doing his thing, the fighting, the snarling at Murphy and playing all tough, but he had changed a lot since then. Not only because of being with Rick's group, but also a lot because of Connor. He was calmer now, more understanding, more mature, and less angry. Things had been said, the topic was done for now. Which was why he wouldn't bring it up again, and which was why he wouldn't put up another fight.

He didn't know for how long they just walked back to the camp without saying a word to each other, but it didn't take long until Daryl felt the need to speak up. He raised his hand to animate Murphy to stop walking and then crouched down, examining something hidden in the underbush.

"Careful, someone's been puttin up foothold traps" he informed the younger MacManus and examined the trap closer, carefully grabbing a branch and using it to set it off.

"See?" he said as soon as the trap snapped shut, right in front of them, just inches away from their feet.

Murphy scratched his nose and shrugged.

"Yeah, so? We don't step on 'em we don't got a problem" he muttered and kept walking, this time paying more attention where he put his feet.

"We really are in redneck fuckin territory, aren't we" he kept talking and Daryl got back up, scanning their surroundings with a worried frown. Traps weren't a good sign. Stepping on them were the least of their problems. No. Traps meant people, the worst monsters of the all. He didn't care if they were just friendlies trying to catch something to eat or if they were some fucked up twisted bastards like the countless groups he and Connor had met so far.

"We sure as hell could have a problem" he muttered and then sighed, only to start walking.

He certainly didn't want to wait and find out.

"Come on, move up, watch yah step. Ain't gonna stick around and find out what kinda sick bastard put 'em up" he said and then followed Murphy, walking past him yet again so he could have the lead and look out for any more traps.

Connor had been searching for them all night, running around, yelling his lungs out and killing countless walkers. And now the sun had risen, but neither Daryl nor Murphy had returned. He was worried sick. Beyond sick. He felt like he could lose his mind any second. It couldn't take them so long to get back here, could it? It didn't take much to outrun a stupid herd of walkers. The undead were slow. The undead were dumb. Daryl and Murphy were both smart and fast, so why the hell weren't they back yet?

The Irishman was searching the entire area around their camp for what felt like the millionth time, shouting their names every now and then, trying to look for clues. Daryl had taught him some tracking and navigating through the woods, but all this knowledge was beyond useless because there were so many footprints. The herd of the undead had destroyed any possible track, any possible lead that could make it easier for him. Every footprint looked the same, he didn't have a clue which one belonged to a walking rotting corpse or which one could belong to Daryl or Murphy.

He was trying really hard to stay calm and be rational about it, wait for them to return, but he was far too hopeless already. He had so many options, so many ideas and plans but didn't know which one he should pick. He could go back to the highway. See if they had made it over there. But what if they got back to the camp in the mean time? What if they thought he had abandoned it and left again? No. He couldn't do that. He needed to stay put. Wait here, the only real meeting point they had left right now.

He cursed this new fucked up world for not providing any means of communication, no mobile phones, no internet, no freaking nothing. There was no way he could communicate with Daryl or Murphy, set up an alternative meeting point, and most importantly -ask if they were alright. Because this was the one thing that bugged him the most about staying back at the camp. What if they were out there? Trapped? Or injured? Waiting for him to come and help them? And endless mindgame, leave, stay, leave, stay. He didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing that was somewhat of a compromise. Walk around the camp, stay close enough and keep a constant eye on the smoke. This way he would still be there, but also had the chance to walk around and look for them.

He knew it was dangerous and stupid to be so obvious with the fire. The dark smoke could be seen from miles away, from the highway, making his position known to -everyone- around them. Not just Daryl and Murphy. But he saw no other option, saw it as only way to somewhat communicate with the other two men. Let them know where he was, where they needed to go. He had used some of the corpses to make that smoke, and even from here the stench was almost unbearable. It smelled of rotten, burning flesh, but at least there was one good thing about it - it would mask them from further walker attacks or animals for now.

He also hated the fact that he didn't have a clock with him. He had no idea how long it had been since he had lost his friend and brother. Whether it had been a whole couple of hours or just one or two. The not knowing anything was driving him insane, making him turn around yet again and walk the route once more.

Maybe they were back now?

He started jogging, despite the fact that he was beyond tired and exhausted from all the fighting and worrying so much. The stench got worse and worse the closer he got to the fire, the burning corpses, which caused him to shield his mouth and nose in disgust. But there was some that kept him moving, some thing that animated him to come closer.

Two figures by the tent.

Connor let out a relieved chuckle and stopped shielding his mouth, wanting to call out and cheer. But when he got closer his heart missed a beat.
There were people, not walkers, but those people weren't Daryl and Murphy. Those were strangers.

"Fuck" he whispered and ducked down, hiding behind a bush, trying to make out who those people were. There weren't just two but three people. One was kneeling by the fire, the other two were checking out the abandoned tent. They were talking to each other but Connor couldn't really understand what they were saying. They didn't exactly look evil or fucked up like the cannibals he and Daryl had encountered earlier this year, but they didn't exactly look too friendly either.

Well, shit. Just like he had thought. The smoke had certainly drawn them in, attracted their attention. And since neither Daryl nor Murphy were back yet he was completely outnumbered, unable to get back to his camp and wait for the other members of his tiny group. What if Murph and Daryl walked right into them? He certainly couldn't risk that. There could be fights going on, shots could be fired. Those people could be out for their weapons, their supplies. They -could- be bad, and he certainly didn't trust anyone these days. Connor reached for Daryl's crossbow that he still wore around his back, and just for a moment he actually considered simply shooting them. It would save him some time, it would make it a whole lot easier and less dangerous for him.

Except that he didn't work like that. As long as he didn't know whether they were good or evil he couldn't just shoot them.
Because despite the fact that the world was fucked, his morality and beliefs were still very important to him.

We do not want your poor, or your hungry. It is your corrupt we claim. It is your evil that will be sought by us.

That's what he and Murphy had once preached, and he needed to stick to that. Those people could just be hungry. Maybe he should just wait back here, keep and eye on them and wait for them to leave their camp alone. He was already preparing himself for a cautious watch shift when his day took a downturn.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands up in the air. Where I can see 'em" a man said right behind him, pressing the muzzle of a gun right against the back of Connor's head.