setting: episode 1 "Seed"

Damnation

Chapter 8 - Worries

He was watching Murphy sleep in the filthy bed by the window. The wound looked horrible, and Connor wasn't even sure if his twin was going to make it. His dark-haired half wouldn't stop coughing, wouldn't stop moaning and throwing up blood. He was very feverish, his black hair even darker than it had already been. It stuck to his head, and when Connor stroke it he could feel the wetness, the heat.

"Don't worry, brother. 'm here. 'm here."

Stitching up the veins and the skin on his brother's neck had been the worst and single most bloody experience in his life, but right now he was just glad that Murphy had made it through.

Would make it through.

"What...what..fuck's wrong with us, Connor" the younger MacManus croaked and Connor chuckled, while trying to cool his twin's face with a wet cloth.

"I don't know, Murph. Looks like that shit can't kill us."

He watched how his twin grabbed his rosary and stroke it with his thumb, and after watching for a while he placed his tattooed hand on his brothers to hold the item with him.

"See, I told ye god's watching over us. Ye just gotta believe, brother" he muttered and patted his twins cheek with an affectionate smile, since he knew how much Murphy hated it when he started motherhenning him. But Connor did not care about it, because he still had his brother even after that nasty bite, because this whole thing could have turned into an absolute nightmare. Murphy could have died if it weren't for him stopping the bleeding. Just for a second he tried to imagine what it would have been like if he had lost Murphy to this blood loss, but here he was, his twin, moaning and breathing and moving and hot, not cold.

In his dream they were getting out of Boston together, making their way up north. In this dream world they were hiding in a tiny deserted hut up in the mountains, eating berries and whatever they shot. In this world they had their dog Hannibal with them, and Connor would get bit during a hunting trip two years after the outbreak. But it wouldn't matter, because they were twins, because they were immune, because even such a fucked up disease couldn't separate them. In this dream the walkers would never touch Murphy again, because the bite made him uninteresting for them. Both brothers would be living in that small hut, not having to fear any more walkers, not having to run, not having to kill. They would just be, live together and die as old gray-haired men, with the walkers long since gone and rotten by the time they reached that age. In his dream Murphy, that secret fucking romantic, would find the girl of his dreams and make him an uncle. In his dream they would die the same day, only minutes apart, with Connor going first, because he could not bear outliving his beloved twin brother. In his dreams everything was green and peaceful, not red and violent and...

The Irishman woke up with a start when he hit his head on the iron frame of the bunk bed he was sleeping in.

Way to wake up from a nice dream.

Connor groaned and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling, massaging his aching head with a sigh. He could feel the incredible pain in his chest again, like someone had ripped his heart and lungs out with their bare hands. He swallowed hard but would not cry. The times he had spent weeping because of his brother's death were over, now there was just the deep and bitter sadness that always accompanied dreams like the one he'd just had. The Irishman raised his head a bit to have a look outside, trying to make out what time it was. It was still dark outside, so he probably hadn't slept for more than a couple of hours.

He felt so terribly alone all of the sudden, not only because of the dream but also because of Daryl. He wasn't used to the sudden separation after everything they had been through this winter, but it looked like his friend was really going to pull this thing through. He didn't want them to be sleeping in the same room. Connor snorted and shook his head. Fucking Daryl, acting like a teenaged girl all of a sudden just because people were there. People who had eyes and could see them. The Irishman sat up and nearly hit his head again, freezing only seconds before he hit the upper bed. He watched his sleeping friend for just a minute longer, considering what he should do. But the pain in his chest told him that he needed distraction, and he knew exactly how he was going to get it.

Daryl startled awake when he felt how something moved behind him. He was still lying on the perch between the two stairs that led down to ground level. When his eyes snapped open he could see Rick, who was still sitting where he had positioned himself when they had all gone to sleep. It looked like their leader had fallen asleep as well. Daryl grabbed his knife when he could feel how the thing behind him moved again. He turned around abruptly, placing his blade right on its throat. He groaned and rolled his eyes when he saw that it was Connor. "Jesus..." he murmured and put the knife down. The Irishman grinned at him.

"Call me Connor."

The hunter frowned.

"Screw yah, what the fuck are yah doing?"

Connor smirked and lay down next to him.

"I can't fucking sleep in this cell. I didn't break out of te Hoag fer nothing" he murmured and grabbed the corner of Daryl's blanket.

His friend watched him with a raised eyebrow and sat up.

"What the fuck. Yah ain't sleeping here" he growled, but Connor wouldn't get up. He shifted and moved until he was in a comfortable position.

"I said you ain't sleeping here!" the hunter repeated and shoved his friend, who nearly fell down the stairs to his left.

"Fuck you! And I said I ain't sleeping in a cell."

"Then go downstairs and sleep on the floor, or, I don't know, move yer crap over there!"

"So what, like we didn't sleep right next ta each other fer the past couple of months? Now shut up, the others are trying t'sleep" Connor murmured and rested his head on both his arms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Daryl glared at his friend a little while longer, but when he noticed that the Irishman didn't seem to react or move at all the hunter sighed and lay back down as well.

"If yer ass ain't back in yer cell by tomorrow morning when everybody gets up then I swear 'm gonna shove yah down these stairs so you break your neck" he growled and turned his back on his friend. For a while he just eyed Rick downstairs, praying to god that he wouldn't wake up now and see them like that. Connor chuckled and moved extra close on purpose, wrapping an arm and a leg around his friend.

"Why, are ye scared they're gonna find out 'bout our secret romance?"

Daryl started kicking and struggling.

"Get yer fucking mits off me!" he spat and turned around so he could kick and punch his friend properly. Connor started laughing and fought back.

"Oh see, she's all over me, want a piece of me Darylena, well, ye have ta bite it off!"

"I'm gonna break yer neck!" the hunter grunted and his friend laughed even more. Daryl knew that he didn't really stand a chance against Connor anymore, especially now that the Irishman had recovered from his bite and depression. The blonde was life itself again, which was why he would always win. Pretty soon Daryl found himself in a headlock, and for a second he really considered stabbing his friend. Because this reminded him way too much of how Merle had always treated him, and the fact that Connor had started calling him Darylena as well didn't exactly help either.

"Let me go! Seriously! I swear, 'm gonna kill yah!" he grunted and kneed Connor's stomach hard.

The Irishman couldn't breathe for a second and finally let go.

"Jesus fucking christ, stop being so goddamn touchy all te time. Isn't exactly the first time 'm lying next t'you asshole" he murmured and rubbed his aching belly.

"Yeah, yah wanna be any more obvious? How bout you wake everyone up and let 'em know while yer at it."

Connor turned on his back and snorted.

"Fuck you. You fucking know why 'm doin it" he growled and Daryl snorted as well.

"Yeah, well, and you know that I ain't him. It's been a year and yer still not getting it."

"Screw ye."

They were quiet for a while until Daryl finally turned on his back to somewhat eye his friend.
Connor was lying next to him, covering his eyes with one arm as he tried to sleep on.

"This ain't 'bout those cells, is it?"

The Irishman sighed.

"Obviously."

Daryl growled and turned his head to look at him.

"Don't tell me yer getting started on yer crying crap again."

Connor snorted and stopped covering his eyes. He stared at the ceiling and shook his head.

"Nah" he murmured and the hunter raised an eyebrow. The whole thing was starting to annoy him, what made it even worse was the fact that he just knew that the others could hear them. He didn't exactly have a problem with this kind of conversation anymore, simply because they had gotten really close when they had been away from the group. He knew his friend all too well by now, and he could just tell that something was bugging Connor, that it was about his brother again. Because whenever the Irishman decided to go all girl on him it was always about his twin.

"Well then, what is it, asshole. Shoot and get back t'yer fucking cell. I need some sleep."

"Fuck you, I don't need t'tell ye shit."

Daryl rolled his eyes and growled, but wouldn't say anything to that. He knew how Connor worked, and he also knew that he was going to tell him anyway. He closed his eyes and breathed out tiredly, waiting for his friend to talk. He could feel the Irishman shift and after a couple of minutes of silence the other man started talking.

"I just had a weird dream. And now I can't stop thinking about everything that happened t'day."

The hunter opened an eye and looked at his friend.

"Yah mean yer suicide run? Damn right that shit's giving yah nightmares. It should. Hope that yer dreaming about it for a whole longer."

Connor snorted.

"Screw ye. I wasn't dreaming about that."

Silence.

"I had to do it. I really wanted t'make sure. How much that shit's changed me. And that was my only chance. Being so close t'walkers. To so many walkers.
I needed ta see their reaction t'be sure. Fer te past couple of months I had a hard time believing that shit."

"What shit?"

"That I'm immune. Or whatever it is that it is."

Daryl snorted.

"You ain't normal, that's for sure."

Connor snickered.

"Fuck you."

His face fell after a moment.

"I still don't get it."

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned around so he could face his friend. He folded his arms and watched Connor's profile. The Irishman was lost in thoughts again, and he was staring straight at the ceiling. He could see the silly tattoo on his neck, his blood pumping underneath it.

"What's there not t'get? Some geek bit yah, infected yah with their muck, but for some reason it didn't kill yah. It didn't turn yah.
Or it turned yah, but in a way that yer stupid brain is still working. Not that it ever worked."

"Why me, though. Out of all those fucking people who got bit. Why me."

Daryl eyed the tattoo on his neck again and let his gaze wander down on his friend where he could see the cross on his arm. The arm where he had been bitten.
The hunter snorted.

"Maybe it was yer stupid god's will."

Connor snorted as well.

"Yeah, I bet."

"Why not? I thought you were believing in that shit."

The Irishman coughed and shook his head.

"If it were god's will then I wouldn't be the only one who survived that."

Daryl wanted to say something, but remained silent. He had known that it was about Connor's brother.

"This is the part I don't get, man. Belief aside, just taking the facts. Me and Murph, we were fucking twins. Our Ma had us at te same time.
We were more alike than normal brothers. So why did he die? We both got bit. He died. I did not. He shouldn't have died. He should've been immune as well."

"Yah told me yah didn't look alike."

"Aye, but what's that gotta do with it?" Connor asked and turned his head to look at the man next to him.

"Well, yah were fraternal, not real proper twins. Maybe then it would've been different. Hell, I don't know. I ain't no doctor. And neither are you, dumbass."

The Irishman sighed and chewed on his lips. Daryl turned on his back again.

"Besides. Didn't yah say that he got bit in the neck? That he died from blood loss?"

Connor swallowed hard and nodded. He didn't want to remember, but now that his friend had talked about it he couldn't get the images out of his head again.
There he was. Murphy. Lying in his arms. Blood. Everywhere. His hands started shaking.

"Aye" he whispered and Daryl sighed.

"Well. Maybe he was immune. Maybe he just died because of the wound."

The Irishman took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to keep calm. He still hated to talk about it. Didn't want to think about it, but it needed to be said.
Because the uncertainty was driving him crazy.

"He turned" he said quietly and took another deep breath.

"Who knows. You might still turn. Someone's just gotta stab yah or something, you die, you turn. Rick said so. We all carry the thing that turns you."

"I was dead, Daryl."

The hunter closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew that his friend wanted answers, that he was never going to let it go. He didn't have any answers, and he was getting tired of it. Talking about death all the time, about Murphy, about that night. It was like he could still feel it. How his friend's heartbeat had sped up and slowed down in a matter of seconds, until it had stopped completely. For a couple of seconds his heart had stopped. Connor was right. He had been dead for a moment. But then he had come back to life.

"Maybe not long enough" the hunter growled and tried to sleep.

"He shouldn't have died, man" Connor murmured and turned on his side as well.

"Shut up and sleep."

They startled awake when they heard the creaking of the doors. Daryl moved his head abruptly and shifted, only to see that most of the group were already awake downstairs. He hated that he wasn't the first to wake up, because most of the time he was, and what made it even worse was the fact that he could feel an arm around his waist. Jesus. He growled and turned around. He could see that Connor was still lying next to him, and at some point during the night he had wrapped his arm around him again. And everyone could see it.Daryl cursed and sat up, then he gave the Irishman a slap across his face. Connor startled awake and widened his eyes in surprise. "What the fuck.." he groaned and shifted, trying to sit up. Daryl stood up and took his blanket with him, so his friend lay there with no cover at all. The hunter kicked his thigh.

"I told yah t'move yer ass back in yer cell!" he hissed and kicked him once more.

"Ow! Jesus fucking christ, stop kicking me, you asshole" Connor complained and sat up so he could box his friend's thigh in return.

Daryl shook his head angrily and made his way downstairs. The whole thing was embarrassing enough.

Connor groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. He could see Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog and Rick walking around downstairs and it looked like they had been awake for a while now. It took him a while to wake up properly and the mornings were still the worst for him. He always woke up with a splitting headache, ever since the bite. He sighed and got up to make his way back to his cell, to get something to drink and maybe a cigarette. He entered the room and searched his bag for a while, only to remember that he still had no cigarettes. He cursed and shook his head. Christ. How much he needed a cigarette. Especially when he had headaches like that. This was a prison after all. Someone had to have stored any cigarettes somewhere. Year old or not. He really needed to look out for some today.

Connor froze when he could hear gentle sobs coming from somewhere down the corridor. He could hear people talking downstairs, but there was also some gentle crying. He knew that Lori and Carol had their cell on this floor as well, so he made his way over to them to see what was going on. He found Rick's wife sitting there all alone in her cell. When the Irishman turned around he saw that Carol was running around downstairs with the others. He looked back at Lori and bit his lip, unsure what to do or say. "Lori?" he asked quietly and she looked up in surprise. When he saw her tear-stained face he entered her cell and looked at her.

"What's te matter?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose.

"It's nothing"

The Irishman frowned and folded his arms.

"But...well, yer crying. So there's obviously something."

Lori didn't say anything for a while and tried to calm down. She kept rubbing her thighs and stared down at her belly the whole time. Connor turned his head once more to see what was going on downstairs. None of the group seemed to notice what was going on with Lori. Especially not Carol, Herschel or Rick, the very persons who had been looking after her most of the time. The Irishman shifted and came closer, now that he realized that it was up to him to do something. He knelt down in front of her and sighed.

"Look, 'm not very good at this. Truth be told, I've never really talked t'many ladies in me life, being busy and in prison and all that.. I know, me?
Not talking much t'ladies? Real shocker."

Lori looked up and smiled a little. Connor smirked.

"But...yer obviously upset. And I know what that feels like" he went on and Lori looked down again.

"And I also know how much talking's helped me. Made me feel better. So.."

"My son can't stand me. And my husband, after what I put him through..."

Connor snorted.

"Carl? Of course he can stand ye. He's yer kid! Kids could never really hate their Ma."

Lori sniffed and wiped her cheek. The Irishman smiled.

"Besides. Maybe I just gotta talk some sense into the kid."

Rick's wife laughed and took a deep breath.

"I know you will. You always do. And I thank you for that. It's just that..he adores Rick. He'd do anything for his father.
And he wants to be like him..but now that Rick... I tried to talk to him...he...he hates me."

The Irishman bit his lip again and just looked at her.

"Yeah, I already noticed that. Is it..well, it's not really any of my business but...is it about Shane?"

Lori nodded.

"I put them at odds. I put that knife in his hand. It wasn't his fault.." she said quietly and started sobbing again.
Connor didn't say anything for a while and waited for Lori to calm down.

"Listen. I had the chance t'talk t'yer husband two nights ago. I know it's some pretty tough shit, but I think he did te right thing. Shane...he was dangerous. Ta you, ta Rick, ta everyone. He put everyone in danger, and that more than once. But still. I noticed that Rick..."

The Irishman sighed and rubbed his face.

"Well. Me'n Daryl didn't see ye people fer more than six months. And we noticed the change right from the off. Rick's different. He's changed. A lot actually. There's a few things that are bugging me about yer husband. I mean I get it. Yer relationship's changed and I can understand that yer upset. But how things turned out now, that surely isn't all yer fault. And sure, you've done a few things that I'm not too fond of either. But I think ye shouldn't be too hard on yerself. Rick sure has done some things wrong as well."

Lori sighed and combed her hair with her fingers.

"He's just trying to protect the group. Keeps us together. I can understand that, he's trying to do the right thing..he's a good man and..."

"Aye, but this isn't about his good intentions" Connor interrupted her and looked at her.

"This is about you. Yer upset. And worried. And ye got every right t'be. And you should be. But you shouldn't let it eat you up. Leave that kinda worrying t'the rest of us. T'me. Cos ye know who doesn't give a fuck about any of that shit?"

Lori shook her head and Connor pointed at her belly.

"This little fella in there. And we want it t'stay that way, aye?"

She chuckled and nodded.

"We don't want him t'be stressed, okay? So calm down. Let the others worry 'bout it. Besides. My best hope's that Rick'll get off his high dictatorship horse as soon as he sees te little fella."

Lori smiled and chuckled.

"Her."

Connor frowned.

"What?"

"You mean as soon as he sees her."

The Irishman chuckled.

"Oh come on, we all know that it's a he. Just look at that. Anyone who can weigh that much's gotta be a boy. Strong little fella. With loads af muscles" he said and pointed at Lori's swollen belly. Rick's wife smiled even more and rubbed it. Connor watched her for a moment, then he felt awkward because of the whole situation.

"Anyway, gotta go. People want me t'clear the rest af the prison with 'em" he said and got up.

He was on his way out of Lori's cell when she called out. The Irishman turned around again to look at her.

"Thank you."

He smiled back at her.

"Yer very welcome."