setting: episode 5 "Say the Word" and episode 6 "Hounded"

Damnation

Chapter 26 - Grave

The sun was still rising. Both Connor and Daryl enjoyed the fact that it wasn't so freaking hot yet, how quiet and peaceful it really was. No one else was awake yet, and if it weren't for his nightmares that woke him up every morning then Connor would've been asleep as well. But here he was now, walking down the small hill next to their prison yard with Daryl. Neither of them would say anything, simply because the Irishman was still too tired and the hunter didn't feel like talking in general. They were heading for the three wooden crosses on the other side of the small meadow. It was a beautiful morning and there were hardly any walkers by the fences. Daryl was the first the reach the three graves, and it looked like he wanted to be on his own for a bit. Connor headed for the grave that was further left whereas his friend stopped in front of the grave to their right. Both men just looked at the wooden crosses.

The older of the two wasn't sure which grave belonged to Lori, so he just picked one and looked at it. Although Carl had made him feel a bit better yesterday night with the information on how Lori had died he still couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew that both Daryl and her son were right, that even if he had been there he wouldn't have been able to help her, but that still wouldn't change a thing. The Irishman hated how he had just tried to help her and it still hadn't been enough. Lori had been the first person to take care of him when the group had found him. She had given him food and information, and although he had looked horrible back then she still had been kind. He knew that Rick's wife had made some terrible mistakes, especially regarding her husband and Shane, but it had never really been his problem. She had always trusted him, asked him for help, allowed him to help her with her son. Sometimes it had felt like Lori had been a mother to them all, no matter if she was younger or just a bit older than them. Now she was gone, and everyone could feel her absence. The Irishman sighed and swallowed hard. 'm sorry I couldn't save you. 'm sorry I couldn't protect you. But I promise I'm gonna look after yer family. Yer little girl, Carl. I'm gonna make sure they're safe. He closed his eyes and grabbed his rosaries to start praying for her, for T-Dog, for Carol, for everyone they had lost.

Daryl just stood there and looked at the cross that he thought belonged to Carol. He eyed his friend carefully and waited until he closed his eyes to start praying for the dead, and once he had made sure that Connor could not see him he reached inside his vest to get out the fragile flower he had found. For a second he just looked at its white petals and stroke them with his thumb. The hunter had been upset this morning. Upset and angry. Because Carol had always mattered to him, ever since she had lost Sophia. He had always known that her husband had abused her, that her life had always been hard just like his own. This had been the very reason why he had always felt a connection between them, because this was the part Connor would never be able to understand. What it felt like to get abused and be hated by your own family.

No matter how much the Irishman really meant to him, sometimes he was getting tired of all his family stories, how strong his bond with his twin had been, how caring and funny their mother had been, their family prayer, the gifts, the reunion with their father. How close and funny and loving his entire family had been back in Ireland. Daryl couldn't help but feel jealous and angry then, and he had enjoyed being with Carol instead. Because she would never talk about family in that regard, because he had always felt like they understood each other better than Connor would ever understand him. But now she was gone, and this had made him so angry. He had been just about to explode again when Connor wouldn't leave him alone when he needed space, and just when they had almost gotten into yet another fight he had seen the flower. The Cherokee rose. A flower to give them hope, to signalize that everything was going to be okay. And ever since he had found it he couldn't help but feel hopeful. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe Carol wasn't dead? They had never found her body after all. Maybe she just got lost in this maze of corridors and cells.

Daryl knelt down to place the rose on the empty grave, careful not to crush its fragile petals.
Once he had made sure the flower was in place he put a hand on the wooden cross, imagining it was Carol's shoulder.

I'm gonna find you. Dead or alive. I promise I will find you. I promise I will bring someone home this time.

He got back up and looked at the flower and cross a little bit longer, then Connor shifted and looked at him.

"What's it with the flower? I never got t'ask ye" he murmured and approached his friend with both his hands in his pockets.

He looked at the cross and the white flower, and so did Daryl.

"It's a Cherokee rose. There's a legend 'bout it. Short version: it's a sign of hope. Gives people strength."

Connor nodded.

"That's nice."

The hunter just looked at the graves. The man next to him sighed and let his gaze wander for a moment.

"Speaking of nice. That's a nice spot t'bury the dead. 's beautiful here."

Daryl nodded and looked up as well.

"Yeah" he muttered and turned his head when he heard his friend chuckle.

Although there was a smile on Connor's face the Irishman looked a bit sad.

"Reminds me of that one place back 'n Ireland. Minus the fences."

"What kinda place?" Daryl asked and frowned.

Connor shook his head and chuckled once more.

"Back when we were hiding from te police me 'n my brother worked on a sheep farm. Already told ye that story. Anyway, one day we were watching over 'em and stood on a hill. Just like this one. Maybe 'bit higher. And we had a fucking fantastic view fram up there. Fucking beautiful that was."

Daryl didn't say anything and just looked at his friend, who closed his eyes for a while. Connor tried to imagine the view again, the smell, the feeling of having his other half next to him.

"Murph spent months complaining about how fucking quiet Ireland was compared t'Boston.
Why we had to quit our job, why I dragged him away and back t'this quiet country life bullshit."

He opened his eyes again and looked at the fences opposite them with a faint smile.

"But then we were standing on a hill like this one. And he fucking loved it.
Said if we were ever going to die he would love t'be buried on a hill like the one we were standing on, maybe even the same one."

He looked at the crosses in front of them.

"So it's nice t'see that Lori, Carol and T get t'rest on a hill like that."

The hunter eyed his friend for a while.

"Why don't you just bury him next to them?" he suggested and Connor frowned and looked at him.

"What?"

Daryl put his hands in his pockets and shrugged awkwardly.

"Just sayin. It sure is a nice spot. And it's about time you let him go. This is your chance."

Connor pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I already said goodbye ta him on the farm."

Daryl shook his head as he still remembered that day all too clearly.

"You put your gun on the ground. Ain't the same."

Connor wouldn't say anything to that, so his friend went on.

"Just listen to yourself, man. You won't stop talking about him. And you carry his guns, his necklace, his knife, his picture.
Wouldn't surprise me if some of your clothes are his. You gotta stop that shit."

"It's all I got left of him" the Irishman muttered and gave his friend an angry glare, and it was obvious that he didn't want to let go.

Connor shook his head and then looked away again. Daryl used this opportunity to head for the shovel which was still stuck in the ground right next to one of the graves. Once he got it he made his way back to Connor and offered it to him. It took the Irishman a while, and he just stared at the tool and wouldn't take it just yet. He knew that Daryl was right, that this whole thing needed to stop, but it was incredibly hard for him. He eventually took the shovel and Daryl nudged his chest.

"I'll go get another bunch of panels."

And as Daryl walked away Connor just felt the weight of the shovel in his hands and stared at the ground. He knew that he didn't need to dig too deep. No body would have to be put in there, considering that his brother's body had long since disappeared. He could no longer hide the tears that had tried to flow ever since Daryl had mentioned the fact that he needed to let go of Murphy's things, and even after all these months it still hurt so much that he could hardly breathe. He didn't want to let go, he still didn't want to believe that his twin was gone. Dead. Nothing but a memory and dust.

If we ever die, I want 'em to bury us right fuckin here. Side by side. Not in some shithole in Boston. No. Right fuckin here on this hill.

He still remembered that conversation on their hill as if it had just happened yesterday.

Daryl was right, this was a good spot to let go, it was just like Murphy had wanted. Only that it wasn't like this at all. Because Murphy had died in some shithole in Boston. Because his brother's corpse was still lying there, in this building, in this apartment, this room. Because they would never be side by side. It wasn't fair, and how this was supposed to make him feel better was beyond him. Connor still started digging, and with every inch he buried the shovel deeper in the ground he had to think about everything. He remembered his twin's screams. The running running running. The cursing, the crying, the begging, the blood, the bullet. He had thought that he had gotten better ever since the farm, but truth was that he was far from okay. The bite had made it worse. The immunity had made his survivor's guilt even stronger. He still thought it was unfair how he could survive a bite whereas his brother had died, he still didn't get the logic behind that. He dug and dug and with every movement he thought the same thing.

I don't want to let go. I don't want to let go. I don't want to let go.
He's still with me.
I can't be on my own.
I need him with me.
Dead or alive.
I don't care.

He kept digging and digging and let go of his anger until Daryl came back with another self-made cross, and the closer he came the angrier Connor got.

I promise 'm gonna come back. When all this is sorted out then 'm gonna come back. 'm gonna take ye back t'Ireland, back t'Ma, and we're gonna give ye a proper grave on our hill. With a cross and flowers and all that shit. 'm gonna dig it and build it m'self, I promise.

He was such a fucking liar. He knew that he would never get back to Boston. He knew that he would never get back to Ireland. Back to their mother. Because everyone he once knew and loved was dead. His entire family was dead. And the miserable hole he had just dug wouldn't make it any better. Daryl was about to put the cross in the ground, but Connor stopped him because he wanted to do it himself. He pushed the cross into the ground and then adjusted it, and as soon as he was done with it both men took a step back to look at the now empty grave. Connor grabbed all the things he had. The guns, the knife, the picture, the rosary. And just like that he felt incredibly naked, and terribly, terribly alone. He felt a big lump in his throat and swallowed hard.

"Want me to go?" Daryl asked but the Irishman shook his head. He wouldn't look at his friend, he was just staring at the hole.

"Don't ye get tired of digging so many graves all the time?" he muttered after a while and Daryl shifted.

"I'm just glad I ain't standing in front of yours now" the hunter murmured and Connor turned his head to look at him.

"Gave me a heart attack when those dead pricks were all over yah in that corridor."

Connor just nodded and looked at the grave again. He clung to the things in his hands as if his life depended on it, and he even had to admit that he was shaking a bit.
Both men just stood there for a while until the Irishman spoke out what he had thought right from the beginning.

"I can't fucking do it, man" he muttered and already wanted to walk away, but Daryl stepped in his way to stop him.

"Do it."

"I can't. Seriously" Connor said and shook his head.

"I said do it" Daryl repeated and placed a hand on his friend's chest to shove him towards the grave, and that was enough to make the blonde snap.

"I told ye that I cannot fucking do it, alright? You can't fucking force me!"

"Just bury something, man" the hunter demanded and tried not to get into a fight, although it was quite hard to do so.

He knew that this was very difficult for his friend, but he also knew that it needed to be done because he was sick of the Irishman's endless talk and mourning.
Connor kept shaking his head and stared at the things in his hands, and that was enough to make Daryl snap.

"Bury something!" he yelled and finally lost his patience.

"You dug the hole, didn't you? Now put something in there and end it! I'm sick of this bullshit all the time! You told me he wanted to be buried on a hill, now stop being so selfish about it and do it!"

Connor just stared at his friend as if he wanted to punch him for that, hands clutching to his things and lips nothing but a pale thin line. He looked like a stubborn child and murderous lunatic at the same time, but Daryl wouldn't give in. He knew that if they didn't do this now Connor would never get out of this hole he was in ever since his brother had died, so this was their only way.

The Irishman finally turned around and headed for the grave, and after staring at the things in his arms for a good five minutes he grabbed the Murphy's bowie-knife and dropped it. The weapon flew inside the hole and Connor stared at it, then he dropped the next thing, the picture. He put the guns in his holsters again and looked at Daryl.

"Can't put those away. We need 'em."

The hunter nodded reluctantly. He knew that the Irishman was right, but he still didn't like it.

Connor went for the cross next and took his brother's rosary, and after staring at it and stroking the beads he wrapped it around the cross Daryl had brought with him.
He knelt down next to it and wouldn't let go of the rosary just yet, and now that Daryl had calmed down a bit he stepped closer.

"He got the knife right before our first hit. I always called him a fuckin Rambo wannabe because of that" Connor suddenly started talking and chuckled sadly.

"He always thought that knives were useful, I thought that ropes were useful. He was Rambo, I was Bronson. We spent fucking years bickering over that one" he went on as he looked down the hole he had dug. He then looked back at the rosary and stroke the wooden cross.

"And this one..our Da made those fer us. Just before he left us. Our Ma kept them in a box on te top shelf in the kitchen. She officially gave them to us on our 16th birthday, but Murph and I found it years before that. I think we were six or seven. Snooping around in the kitchen, looking fer something to eat when this box fell in my hands. We saw the initials and knew they were fer us."

Daryl just stood there and listened, and it took his friend a moment to keep going.

"Our Da left us when we were three. Didn't get ta meet him til we were 27."

He suddenly chuckled and shook his head.

"And all those fucking years Murph kept asking Ma, kept asking me. 'Where is Da, Connor? Where is he?'. As if I knew te fucking answer. And sometimes I think, as soon as he stepped out tha door and left us, 't was almost like he made me the new man in the house, like Murph picked up on tha. I remember te first time we put those rosaries around our necks. It's like we was so close ta him, y'know?"

Connor raised his head and looked at Daryl for a while.

"I remember te look on his face when we first wore it. He was so fucking happy. He never wanted ta take it off. He always wanted to be close to our Da.
We both wanted that."

He sighed and turned his head to look at the rosary again.

"'s why we came ta America. We knew he was here."

There was silence for a while and the blonde let go of it.

"Murph loved this rosary."

He stared at it a little longer and swallowed hard.

"Y'know. I take that offer now. Can ye please leave me alone fer a bit? I wanna pray fer them. Both of them" he pleaded but wouldn't look at Daryl.

The hunter didn't like the idea of his friend being alone out here, but he supposed it was his right to mourn and say goodbye in private.
He nodded and turned around to head for the prison.

"I'm inside if yah need me."

"Aye. Thanks."

And as the younger of the two walked away he could hear the prayer again.

"And shepherds we shall be..."

They were all having breakfast before their big search for Carol and the remaining free walkers. No one would say anything and everyone seemed upset, especially Connor and Carl. The Irishman was sitting by the table next to Rick's son, who was staring at his food but wouldn't eat. The boy was still very upset because of his mother's death, and although Connor was upset himself after the thing with the grave he still tried to cheer the boy up with stories and silly voices. Maggie, Glenn, Herschel and Beth, who was holding the baby, were sitting around the table as well and listened to the Irishman, but no matter how hard the blonde tried, no one was really truly happy and they all could hardly smile, no matter how funny some of Connor's story's really were. Daryl sat on the stairs on the other side of the room and just watched them. He was worried about the group and Rick as well, and right now his friend's talk wasn't exactly helping, it just annoyed him. He knew that Carl didn't need this sort of talk right now, because he was familiar with the feeling of losing your mother from one second to the next.

"Everybody okay?" they heard Rick ask and turned their heads in surprise.

Their leader was standing by the door and looked at them. He wore different clothes and his face was cleaner than when he had left them yesterday.

"Yeah, we are" Beth answered and the whole group just watched how Rick entered the hall. The policeman nodded and looked at all of them, until he fixed his eyes on Connor. Both men just looked at each other for a while. The Irishman felt like he was being judged although he knew that Rick probably didn't blame him but Maggie, but he still felt guilty because of the whole thing. He chewed slowly and swallowed the food after a second, and when he was just about to say something, apologize, Herschel spoke up.

"What about you?" he asked and Rick stopped looking at Connor.

"I cleared out the boiler block" he answered and then turned his head to look at his son.

Daryl watched the whole scenario with a worried look on his face, and when he saw how his friend tried to talk he spoke up instead.

"How many were there?" he asked and Connor turned his head to look at him with an angry frown.

Daryl ignored his friend and just looked at Rick.

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen... I have to get back. Just wanted to check on Carl" the policeman answered and patted his son's shoulder without really looking at him. Connor looked at the boy with a frown, saw how upset he was, and it just made him angry how Rick could call this sort of back patting "checking on his son". The Irishman sighed and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You okay?" he muttered and Carl nodded. He still wouldn't look at his father.

Rick turned around and headed for the exit again, but Glenn got up and called after him.

"Rick, we can handle taking out the bodies. You don't have to" he offered, but Rick shook his head.

"No, I do" he growled and approached Daryl.

"Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

The hunter nodded.

"Yeah. We're running low on ammo, though."

"Maggie and me were planning on making a run this afternoon" Glenn joined in and Daryl nodded once more.

"Yeah. Me 'n Connor, too. As soon as we're done looking for Carol. We already cleared out the generator room. Axel's there trying to fix it.
In case of emergencies. We're gonna sweep the lower levels next."

"And we found a phone book with some places we can hit, look for bullets and formula" Glenn went on.

Rick nodded absently.

"Good. Good" he murmured and headed for the exit again.

"Rick!" Herschel called after him, but their leader kept going. It was silent for a while, and Connor just watched how Carl wouldn't eat and kept staring at nothing.