setting: episode 2 "Sick"

Damnation

Chapter 13 - Resolution

Five weeks after the farm incident...

"Daryl!"

The yell down the corridor startled the hunter, who had been busy setting up their primary camp in one of the small offices of the fire station. Connor had gone off on his own to check out the rest of the building for a secondary sweep, and the sound of his voice told his friend that he had obviously found something. Daryl grabbed his knife and crossbow and got up on his feet, but not without having a look out of the window first. He could still see the small group of walkers that was staggering around the street in front of the station, as if they were aware of them being in here.

"Daryl! Get yer ass over here!" he heard Connor shout again and growled when he noticed that some of the walkers were turning in the direction of the doors of the station. Immunity and indifference aside, those undead bastards were still attracted by the noise Connor was making, and his friend happened to have quite the organ.

"Shut up! I'm coming, yah moron!" Daryl shouted back, but not as loud as the Irishman. He could still hear the banging downstairs, and sooner or later they would have to come up with a plan on how to get rid of the walkers if they really wanted to stay in here. The hunter walked out of the room and entered the small hallway. The station really wasn't that big, maybe there were about six small offices, a locker room, the restrooms and one shower room up here, but that was pretty much it. The latter was the exact room he found his friend in, and Connor greeted him with a big grin on his face. Daryl searched the shower room for any potential threat or the reason why Connor had called him, but he couldn't see anything.

"What?"

"We got fuckin hot water here, dude" Connor stated and turned one of the showers on.

The gurgling and growling of the drain and pipes could be heard for a while, then the spray of water rained down, making the Irishman jump so he wouldn't get wet.
He held a hand in the spray and kept waiting with a grin, and Daryl frowned even more.

"Bullshit."

"No, 'm telling ye, it's getting warm!"

The hunter approached the other man and reached out as well.

"I swear to fucking god, if that's another one of your shitty lies just to get me to do something stupid then..holy shit."

Connor giggled and moved his hand when both men noticed how the water was getting warmer and warmer.

"They had one of those old backup generators down there. There's some fuel innit, ain't much, but I got it ta work when ye were busy up here. Figured why not check te fucking showers?And look at that, gravity shower system. 's fucking brilliant that is. Can't even remember the last time I had a real proper shower" he said and let go to take a couple of steps back. Daryl enjoyed the warmth on his hands just a bit longer.

"Yeah, whatever. We still got a lotta work to do here and..hey, what are yah doing?"

The hunter stood there stunned when he saw how Connor started taking off his jacket, sweater and shirt.

"I'm having a shower right fucking now 's what I'm doing" the Irishman answered and started untying the laces of his boots.

Daryl turned the water off with an annoyed growl and frowned even more.

"T'hell you're doing, we ain't done here yet!"

"Fuck you! 'm sick of running around like a dirty fuckin hillbilly, I can almost peel the dirt crusts off my skin and 'm freezing my ass off. I got bit, I nearly died, I deserve a fuckin hot shower fer that and ain't no stupid fuckin dead prick stopping me from doing dat. Gimme a fucking break" Connor protested and stepped out of his boots so he could get rid of his jeans.

That was a bit too much naked skin for Daryl's liking now.
Although it wasn't the first time he saw his friend in nothing but his boxers he still headed for the door with an annoyed growl.

"Don't use all the fuckin hot water" he muttered as he made his way out because truth be told, he wouldn't mind having a hot shower either.

It was getting colder outside each day, and Connor had a point about all the blood, dirt and other filth. Both men didn't just need a shower, they also needed a shave and the general hygiene they were still used to from their old society, although the Irishman was a bit more out for that than him.

Daryl used the time his friend was busy in the shower to check the upper level for any potential threats or supplies once more, and he found another unopened can of food and two bottles of water in one of the lockers. Other than that the fire station looked pretty much clear, if you didn't count the pile of dead walkers downstairs by the fire trucks. Connor and Daryl had not been able to drag them out and burn them since there were still too many walkers outside, but they hoped to resolve the issue the next day.

The positive thing about the station was that they could actually lock the door to the stairwell which led back downstairs, and they had also made sure that there were another bunch of emergency exists should they have to bail out quick. They could reach the roof and they could get out of the windows just like Connor had entered the building, and for the first time Daryl was actually glad that they still had his friend's stupid rope. It was a ridiculous thing to carry around, but right now it was also pretty useful, especially for making up extra escape roots. He was just done with his patrol route when he met Connor in the hallway. His friend still had wet hair but wore all his clothes again, and it was obvious that he had enjoyed himself very much. The short beard was gone and replaced with only one small line of stubbles down his jaw line and around his mouth, just like on his old picture.

"Yer turn. Don't drop the soap, Darylena" the Irishman said and grinned at his friend, who thanked him with a lazy kick to his shinbone.

"Fuck you."

He was busy rolling out their sleeping bags when he heard the yelling. Daryl hadn't even been gone for ten minutes yet when all hell seemed to break loose in the shower room. Connor was back on his feet in a matter of seconds and started running, and he couldn't hold back the terrified scream that escaped his mouth.

"MURPH!" he yelled as he ran down the corridor and tried to get to his friend as fast as possible.

Once again panic rushed over him as it reminded him way too much of that day in Boston, when his brother had been violently taken away from him. When he reached the restroom he found his friend in just about the same situation. He was buck naked, water still pouring all over him. He was fighting and shoving a dirty old undead man who was trying to bite his bare and wet arms, making it impossible for the hunter to grab his knife which was lying on the pile of clothes by the sinks. Connor grabbed his own knife and ran to grab the walker. He got drenched with water within seconds, but that didn't matter to him. He stabbed the back of the walker's head and threw him to the ground, and then both men watched the thick and almost black blood run down the drains along with the water.

The tiles in the shower room were a complete mess by now, stained with dirt and mud and guts and blood. Both Connor and Daryl were panting because of the shock and fight, and on top of that the younger of the two was also shivering and freezing because of the sudden lack of warm water. Connor kicked the walker just to make sure he was dead, and once he had made sure that his friend didn't have a scratch he suddenly burst out laughing because of the sight of a dripping wet and naked Daryl, who was trying to shield his manhood but also seemed furious because of the sudden walker attack.

"Well, I told ye not ta drop the soap, brother" Connor giggled and tried to nudge his friend's shoulder.

Oh, how he wished to have a camera with him, because this moment was pure gold right here.
Not only did he want a camera, but also people he could tell about this story, but of course, they were alone and the situation was dead serious.

"What the hell was that about! I thought you checked everywhere!" Daryl yelled and shoved Connor back, only to make his way towards his clothes so he could put them on. He ignored the fact that the fabric stuck to his wet skin and just kept going, especially now that the whole situation was embarrassing enough. He hadn't meant to start screaming like that, the walker had just startled him when he had least expected it to happen. Of course Connor had to laugh at him now, that bastard. He wanted to bash his face on the sink.

"Aye, looks like I didn't see that one" the Irishman concluded and kicked the dead walker again.

He then made his way over to the shower to turn off the water, which was now freezing cold anyway.
The Irishman was still giggling to himself although his friend was genuinely mad at him now.

"Look, 'm sorry about that. But ye get kinda sloppy when ye don't have ta fear an attack. Fuckers don't exactly come running at me any longer, so it's kinda easy ta miss some of them."

He turned around and stopped giggling when the blonde noticed all the scars on the hunter's back and front. He had already seen them just a couple of months ago when Daryl had fallen off the horse, and even back then when they hadn't really known each other yet he had still been shocked by the sheer amount and length of some of the scars. Daryl looked absolutely shredded, like someone had thrown him in a bathtub full of knives. And once again Connor felt nothing but guilt. He knew that it wasn't his fault, and that it had not been his job to protect his friend from this sort of abuse. But just for a moment he saw Murphy's back, not Daryl's, and this back was accusing him of the most inhumane things. You didn't protect him from this. His back is supposed to be clean.
Connor shook his head with an angry frown and let out a frustrated sigh. They never talked about this, Daryl's past, the possible abuse. If they ever talked about the past, then it was Connor's, not his. But the Irishman still wanted to get it off the table, because he was getting sick of all this.

"Have you ever thought about covering them up with a tattoo?" he muttered and pointed at his friend's back.

Daryl looked at him through the large mirror and narrowed his eyes at him, but wouldn't say anything to that yet.

"'m just saying. I bet it would look neat. Certainly a whole lot better than this. And maybe it gives ye some peace?"

He wasn't very good at the whole delicately approaching a sensitive issue like this one. He knew that his friend hated to talk about this, that he did not like being touched or looked at there. And that was just being emphasized by how quickly he was trying to put on his layers of shirts.

"So what, that I can run arround with a massive psycho cross like you freak? Dream on. I already told yah, you ain't turning me into yer brother.
Ain't no way 'm gonna run around with something like that on my back."

Connor folded his arms and just watched his friend through the mirror.

"I ain't talking about a Jesus Christ tattoo. I was just offering myself. I ain't so bad at that shit. 't was just an idea" he growled and then made his way to the dead walker to grab him by his legs and pull him out of the shower room.

As he bent over to get his feet Daryl turned around and stared at his friend's back. Although Connor was wearing a sweater and shirt it was like he could still see the tattoo on his back, he had seen it more than once after all. Although he didn't believe in any of Connor's god crap even he had to admit that it looked pretty badass, and he had secretly been thinking about something like that anyway. His friend had nailed it. He was getting sick of the scars on his back, hated how everyone was staring at him as soon as they saw them. He wanted them to disappear. The hunter bit his lower lip and then started buttoning up his shirt. Connor was just passing him with the corpse when he spoke up, but without actually looking at his friend. He still pretended to be extremely busy with the buttons of his shirt.

"Watcha thinking about then?"

now...

The corridors were an endless maze. Connor tried to run after Rick and the prisoner, relying on nothing but his hearing. He couldn't see a thing, all he could hear was the footsteps that were echoing through the halls. "Rick!" the Irishman shouted and searched the empty cells to his left and right, but the leader of their group was nowhere to be found. "Rick!" he yelled once more and almost wanted to give up when he heard the creaking of a door to his left. He could hear excited talking not too far away from him, so he started running again. He finally reached the dining hall of cell block D and saw Rick standing there by the exit.

"Rick! Are ye fucking stupid, no fuckin one man jobs, ye said so yerself! It's dangerous out here. What about Lori 'n Carl?!" he shouted and approached the former policeman.

"Let me back in, man! Let me back in!" he could hear Andrew yell and widened his eyes.

He could see that Rick had actually closed the grille, and how the prisoner was desperate to get back inside. He could see walkers behind the man.

"You better run" he heard Rick say, then their leader closed the door shut behind him.

They could hear how Andrew started screaming and the walkers were growling on the other side. Connor just stood there in the middle of the hall and looked at Rick, completely in shock about what he had just witnessed. Rick was panting shakily and made his way back down the stairs when he finally noticed the Irishman. The policeman froze and looked at him.

"Connor."

The other man just looked at him.

"I said you're supposed to hold formation" he said and started walking again. The screams outside had stopped.

"What te fuck, Rick?" Connor said and pointed at the door the other man had just locked. Rick kept walking.

"Come on, we need to sort the rest out."

The Irishman turned around when Rick walked past him.

"Did you just lock that kid up with walkers?"

The policeman stopped walking and looked at him.

"It needed to be done."

Connor frowned angrily.

"Aye, I get that they were dangerous, I just killed one of 'em myself, but that is not how we fucking handle things."

Rick came closer and glared at him.

"Who says that this is not how we handle things?"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"I am, obviously. I get that killing him was necessary, but it is absolutely fucking inhuman to let people get eaten alive. Evil bastard or not."

"It was the easiest way. Get over it. If you want to stay you better get used to it and start following our rules" Rick answered and looked the other man deep in the eyes. Then he turned around and headed back to the rest of the group, leaving Connor alone in the hall.

When they finally got back to the rest of the group they could see that T-Dog and Daryl were still pointing their weapons at the two remaining prisoners. Rick went straight for Oscar and gave the hunter a slight nod. Daryl retreated, and after making his way over the pile of bodies Connor walked over to his friend as well.

"What happened?" the hunter asked and looked at his friend, who was still glaring at Rick with an angry frown.

"I don't even know" the Irishman growled and kept an eye on their leader, who was pressing his gun to Oscar's forehead.

"We didn't have nothing to do with that" the prisoner said and kept his hands in the air.

Rick got closer and seemed extremely aggressive and blood-thirsty now.

"You didn't know? You knew! Daryl, let's end this now!" he yelled and turned around to point his gun at Oscar.

The hunter grabbed his knife and was on his way to Oscar when Connor shoved him back.

"Don't" he hissed and looked his friend straight in the eye.

Oscar was without any cover now, but he stayed where he was anyway.

"Sir, please! Please, listen to me! It was them that was bad. It wasn't us!" Axel sobbed and looked at Rick in panic, obviously completely terrified of the gun that was being pointed at his head. Connor and Daryl turned their heads to see what was going on.

"Oh, that's convenient" Rick growled and shook the gun to make it clear that he was about to pull the trigger.

"Connor, what the fuck" Daryl murmured when he tried to get to the other prisoner but his friend still wouldn't let him.

He hated that he wasn't able to obey Rick's orders, he wasn't such an insubordinate troublemaker like his friend after all.
Connor kept shoving him away but wouldn't stop looking at Rick for a while, then he turned his head and looked his friend straight in the eye.

"I gotta cover that bastard" Daryl said and pointed his knife at the prisoner. Connor gave him an angry frown.

"Oh come on now, don't go all obedient lap dog on Rick, fucking open yer eyes fer once. You really wanna listen ta someone who's doing shit like this?" he hissed and pointed at Rick, who was still threatening crying Axel.

Daryl snorted.

"What'd you do just a moment ago? Ain't any different now. You wanted them dead."

"But not like this!"

"You saw what he did to Tiny. He was my friend. Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer. Oscar here, he's a B and E and he ain't very good at it neither. We ain't the violent kind, they were! Please, I swear to God! I wanna live!" Axel sobbed and Connor had enough.

Daryl wouldn't stop frowning.

"Yah just took out one of them and now you want to protect their asses? Let me through" the hunter demanded but the Irishman shoved him back once more.

"Aye. I killed that other fucker because he was dangerous, but look at them, they're small fish and I think we killed enough people today. I believe him" he muttered and eyed Axel, who was really losing it by now.

The Irishman had always kind of suspected that Axel and Oscar weren't really dangerous, simply because he knew a real dangerous criminal when he saw one. About an hour ago he had almost forgot about his former good intentions, had seen nothing but red when he had first met the prisoners. He now remembered that not every criminal needed to die. He and Murphy had always looked for people who hurt others, and he knew that killing everyone that committed the slightest crime was just hypocritical. He and Murphy had stolen some cars in their life as well to get their mission to work. Especially nowadays it would be stupid to kill everyone and everything that has done something immoral, simply because there weren't many living people left anymore. Just for a second he had forgotten that not every criminal was out to kill people or hurt them. Back at the Hoag he had experienced that first hand. Maybe Oscar and Axel were just like the people who had saved Murphy. Weak mislead souls who had done shit and the real evil bastards had used them for their purposes. And now that he heard the prisoner begging for his life in tears his former values and beliefs were coming back to life, and the sheer hatred was completely forgotten. He knew what was wrong and right again, and watching Rick threatening a man who was obviously begging for mercy was completely wrong. He stopped shoving Daryl and approached Rick.

"Alright that's it. Rick, give 'em a fucking break" he said and placed himself in front of Axel, who was completely breaking down and crying now.

The Irishman glared at the former policeman who looked back at him just as furiously.

"We killed three of 'em already, don't ye think that's enough? Just look at that fella. I know dangerous people when I see 'em.
He might be a complete pathetic little nutjob, but he ain't no real threat ta us."

The Irishman turned his head and looked at T-Dog.

"Come on T, lower yer fuckin gun. We don't even really know why they're here."

The other man looked like he really wanted to, but he looked at Rick and waited for his instructions instead. Rick wouldn't say anything. Axel looked at Connor.

"Thank you" he sobbed.

Rick just looked at Connor for a second, then he turned around and pointed his gun at Oscar instead.

"What about you?"

"I ain't never pleaded for my life. And I ain't about to start now. So you do what you gotta do" Oscar said and looked Rick straight in the eye, obviously less scared than Axel. The leader of the Atlanta group didn't move for a very long while. He was still pointing his gun at the prisoner's head, thinking about what to do. No one would say anything and held their breath until Rick finally lowered the gun. Axel was still sobbing in the background. Rick turned around again and walked past Connor. He grabbed the crying prisoner by his clothes to pull him back on his feet.

"Cell Block D it is" he growled and started walking.

Once Daryl had opened the door Rick shoved Axel inside cell block D. The prisoner looked at all the bodies on the ground, all the former prisoners that had turned into walkers and had been shot in the head, with their hands still cuffed. All the dead were lying on the ground, in a perfect row in front of their cells.
"Oh, man" Oscar said as he entered the cell block as well. Axel seemed completely shocked.

"I knew these guys" he said with shaky voice and looked at the dead bodies.

"They were good men" he went on and Connor snorted tiredly.

He looked up at the ceiling just so he didn't have to look at the prisoners.
Yes he had practically saved their lives, but that didn't mean that he thought that they were good men. Good men didn't steal. Good men didn't get locked up in prison for nothing. But at the same time he just shook his head, because once again he was being a hypocrite. Good men also didn't kill, and he had killed tons of people. Right now the Irishman was just tired of this whole thing, because his whole ideology still didn't really fit in this world anymore.

"Let's go" Rick said and started walking. Oscar looked at him and frowned.

"So you're just gonna leave us in here? Man, this is sick."

"We're locking down this cell block. From now on, this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it. That was the deal" Rick answered and left the room.

Connor and Daryl looked at each other, then the Irishman started walking as well.
The hunter was on his way out when he stopped walking and looked at Axel and Oscar.

"You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside."

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones" Rick said from the other side of the door. Connor snorted.

"Yeah, yer lucky we didn't blast yer head off yet" he murmured and stopped walking to see why Daryl wasn't coming yet.

"Sorry about your friends, man" the hunter said and finally left the block as well.

Daryl found Connor outside. The Irishman was sitting on one of the prison yard benches with his back turned on him.
The hunter let his gaze wander to make sure that no walkers were around and once he knew for sure that everything was clear he made his way to his friend.

"There you are. No one saw yah anywhere, people already thought you left" he said and heard Connor snort.

When he got closer he could see all the blood on his friend's left upper arm, and the Irishman was obviously taking a closer look at the wound just now.
Daryl walked around the bench so he could stand in front of his friend. He snorted when he saw that the Irishman had a cigarette in his mouth.

"If yah keep smoking like that the pack'll be gone in a couple of hours. You should hoard that shit."

"Shut up" Connor murmured and grabbed an old whiskey bottle. Daryl didn't even want to know where he had gotten it from.

"Where the hell were yah? Herschel woke up. Everyone was there except for you dumbass."

Connor grabbed his cigarette and blew out some smoke. He gave Daryl one and sighed.

"Searched te infirmary fer needles and so on. I gotta stitch it up. Fucking wound won't stop bleeding" he murmured and looked at the cut on his arm.

Daryl looked at it as well and raised an eyebrow.

"T'hell happened?" he asked and put the cigarette in his mouth. Connor offered him the lighter.

"Fucking prison scumbag, that's what happened" he friend answered and then started stitching the cut together with an awkward hiss.

Daryl could see how much trouble his friend had with the injury, since he could hardly reach it with his other arm. The hunter took a drag on his cigarette and just watched him for a moment. He came to the conclusion that Connor needed help, so he sat down next to his friend. He grabbed the needle and took a look at the wound.

"What te fuck?" Connor said and looked at him with a frown. Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Come on, don't be such a princess" he murmured and cleaned the wound once more. Connor raised an eyebrow and watched him.

"What, first yer giving Carol a massage, now ye go all touchy touchy on me, what's te matter Darylena? Ye like t'cuddle now?"

Daryl put the cigarette in his mouth and pricked his friend harder than necessary. Connor twitched and hissed.

"Ow, I got bones there, ye know?" he complained and Daryl smirked.

"Looks like yah got an infection going on there" he murmured when he saw that the veins around the wound were darker.

Connor took a drag on his cigarette and looked at the walkers on the other side of the fence.

"Aye, fucker hit me with his axe right after he killed a walker. There's still blood on it" he murmured and Daryl froze.

"What?"

Connor turned his head and smirked at him.

"So just so ye know, in case I start puking all over ye tonight, it's not only because yer so ugly."

Daryl glared at him.

"This ain't funny."

"Nah come on. It's a little bit funny."

The hunter looked at the wound again, swallowing hard.

"Yah sure that there was walker blood on it?"

Connor nodded and exhaled.

"Aye. Dude did that on purpose. Right before he shoved the walker at you. Why do ye think I killed 'im."

Daryl poured another dose of whiskey over the wound and started stitching it back together. He wouldn't stop eyeing Connor nervously every once in a while.

"What are we gonna do 'bout it?"

The Irishman shrugged.

"Nothing. 's not like 's gonna kill me."

Daryl slowed down and chewed on his lower lip.

"Hope so" he murmured and his friend chuckled.

"How adorable, she's worried 'bout me" he said and grinned at his friend.

"Don't worry Darylena. 'm gonna be fine."

Daryl growled and hit his shoulder.

"Shut up. I already told yah, that ain't funny, man."

Connor sighed and looked at the wound.

"It's definitively different this time. I mean af course it's different, I didn't get bit this time, but..I mean I can feel it, but it feels more..controlled."

"Does it hurt?" Daryl murmured and wiped some blood away. Connor laughed.

"Believe me, ever since that night I'm practically immune ta pain as well. Really. Nothing can ever live up to that sorta pain I went through that night.
Course it hurts, but I've been through worse."

Daryl finished up the stitches and put the needle away.

"There. Yah gonna live" he said and Connor took a look at it. He smirked and pulled the sleeve of his shirt back down.

"Lousy job" he said and flexed his arm experimentally.

Daryl turned around so he could look at the walkers on the other side of the fence.

"Fuck you" he answered and took the whiskey bottle to drink.

He gave it to his friend and shook his head. Damn, he wasn't used to it anymore.
When he turned his head he saw that Connor drank it like water. He snorted and shook his head.

"What happened between you'n Rick?" he asked after a while and Connor stopped drinking. He shook his head and scratched his nose.

"Nothing" he answered and his friend raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure looked like nothing."

Connor snorted and looked at the bottle in his hands.

"Did he get mad atcha for doing yer Saints crap instead of him handling things? Did you kill Andrew as well?"

Connor frowned and looked at his friend.

"No. And I didn't do my saints crap. And that's not te point"

"Didn't you guys shoot them in the head?"

"Aye, but I didn't put pennies in his eyes after that. Didn't even wanna" Connor murmured and looked away.

Daryl frowned and grabbed the whiskey bottle so he could take another sip.

"Yah got any pennies here, dumbass? What are they worth now anyway?"

The Irishman rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Wasn't even te worst. I couldn't say te prayer. That was our Saints crap."

Daryl looked at him and wiped his mouth.

"Yeah, I remember that thing. Dominus omnibus or whatever.."

Although Connor felt slightly worried and disappointed in himself he couldn't hold back a laugh at this. He looked at Daryl and started laughing again.
The hunter frowned angrily.

"T'hell yah laughing at, dumbass" he murmured and Connor shook his head. He covered his eyes and chuckled.

"Dominus omnibus" he repeated and laughed even more.

Although Daryl didn't know what he had done wrong, he couldn't fight the smirk that broke through.

"What? Yah were prattling about that all the time."

Connor hit the back of his head and chuckled once more.

"It's in Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti ye idiot. Not fucking omnibus."

"Sounds the same t'me. Who cares" Daryl murmured and drank some whiskey.

Connor shook his head with a smirk on his face and took the bottle back.

"So what happened with Rick?" the hunter asked again and his friend sighed.

"I saw how he locked that kid up with walkers. Kinda looked like he enjoyed himself there. And ye saw how crazy he got with the other two.
Like he literally just wanted t'kill someone. Guilty or not."

Daryl shrugged.

"He locked 'im up, so? That asshole tried t'kill us."

Connor frowned and looked at his friend.

"Just cos someone does shit it doesn't mean ye have t'let them go through some fucked up slow and painful death."

The hunter snorted.

"Says the guy who executed loads of criminals with his guns and some freaky prayer."

"Exactly. I always shot 'em. Because I knew I wouldn't be any better than them if I started torturing them or some sick shit like that.
And I didn't put pennies in their eyes fer nothing" Connor growled and threw his cigarette away.

" He told me that he's the boss and that if I want ta stay I should get used to the way he handles things" he went on and Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. You're part of this group now, and we ain't alone any longer. Rick knows what's best for the group. He's right, better start working together."

Connor snorted and looked at him.

"Like you? Go Daryl, fetch this fer me Daryl, kill these people fer me Daryl, feed my wife fer me Daryl... And you jump and fetch, no matter what he says."

The hunter narrowed his eyes at him.

"It ain't like that" he growled and grabbed the bottle from Connor to drink.

"Aye, sure."

The Irishman muttered and started cleaning the rest of his arm. It was quiet for a while and the two men just shared a drink until Connor spoke again.

"I found some old ink pen in one of the cells. We could do some more work on yer tat. 's gonna be dark soon, so there's nothing much to do anyway" he suggested and his friend frowned.

"What, out here? No way."

Connor chuckled.

"What? Why not? 's better light out here than in this shithole" he answered and pointed at the cell block. He tried to get his friend to take off his shirt, but Daryl fought him off with an angry growl and got up.

"They don't need to see it, dumbass."

The Irishman watched his friend with a frown.

"Jesus, aren't yer a fucking pussy these days" he muttered and took another sip on his whiskey. Daryl stared back at him with the same angry frown on his face.

"I ain't. It just ain't any of their business."

Connor snorted.

"So what, now that there are people around I ain't fucking allowed ta be closer than six feet just cos yer afraid up people's assumptions? Gimme a fucking break. It's not like they can't see yer other tattoos all te time."

The Irishman got up and grabbed his things so he could leave.

"I just don't want them to see my fucking scars, alright?" Daryl said and Connor stopped walking.

He turned around to look at his friend, who was standing there with a stubborn and almost childish pout.

"Aye, why do ye think I wanna fucking do this?"

Daryl growled and shifted from one foot to the next. He kept staring up the bridge that connected cell blocks D and C, where he could see Lori and Rick.
Connor was right, he wanted to keep going himself, just not out here in the open.

"Let's go inside at least" he muttered and headed for the door.