setting: episode 11 "I Ain't A Judas"

Damnation

Chapter 40 - Nightmare

The bed was shaking and creaking, and that woke Daryl up. It took him a while to come back to life, but it wasn't exactly hard since Connor wouldn't stop tossing and turning in the bed underneath him. It was still dark, and the hunter supposed that he hadn't slept for more than maybe two or three hours. He sighed and folded his arms, waiting for the Irishman to stop moving, but somehow no such thing would happen.

"Stop movin, will yah?" he growled and waited a bit more, but Connor wouldn't stop.

"Leprechaun!" Daryl said, this time a bit louder.

Still no answer.

The hunter let out an annoyed growl and grabbed his pillow to throw it, but when his friend would not react he finally had enough. He sat up and got out of bed, jumping down and landing on the ground with a silent huff. He hated to get woken up in the middle of the night and his friend deserved a decent payback for that, so he turned around to look at the blonde. Connor had his back turned on him but would move every couple of seconds, legs and arms twitching as if he was running or fighting in his dreams. The hunter supposed that it was another one of his friend's nightmares, but he didn't exactly care. He approached his friend and grabbed his shoulder to wake him up.

Connor was in Boston again. In their apartment. Just like the night before. He was lying in his bed, smelled his pillow that smelled of cigarettes and booze, but most of all: it smelled like home. It made him smile. The Irishman shifted a bit and noticed what had woken him up. Someone had placed a hand on his shoulder and was holding on to it. Connor sighed and placed a hand on it, since he knew who it was.

"Eh Murph, how come yer the first ta wake up?"

He frowned when he felt how the hand squeezed tighter to a point where it actually hurt.
And what made it even weirder was the fact that he could feel how cold the hand was.

"Jesus Murph, you can make yer coffee by yerself fer once, can ye? 'm trying ta sleep here you spoiled brat."

A low growl was all he needed to be wide awake. The Irishman grabbed the arm which was holding on to his shoulder in a matter of split seconds, and when he faced his attacker he let out a surprised gasp. He had been right, Murphy had been the one to wake him up in their apartment, but his eyes didn't meet equally blue ones but gray and bloody eyes that had once belonged to his twin brother. Except this was no longer Murphy, it was the drooling and snarling and biting monster that had taken over his younger half's body. Connor grabbed both his attackers arms and tried to shove him away, but his brother was too strong. The younger of the two Macmanus' tried to bite his throat, tried to bite anything he could reach as the blonde wrestled with him and tried to reason with him.

"Murph! Murph! It's me! Get..Get off!" he yelled and managed to get them both off the bed.

As soon as his back connected with the ground the scenery suddenly changed, he was staring at a dark ceiling and recognized the room. Their cell. They were inside the prison. His younger half was now lying on top of him again, trying to bite him with terrifying screams and snarls and Connor didn't have a choice but grab his twin by his messy black hair to yank his head back up.

"Don't! Brother, 's me! Look at me!"

But his twin just kept biting and fighting him. And once again he could see his wounds. The one on his shoulder, the bullet wound. It was impossible.
He couldn't be attacking him. He was dead.

"Look at me!" he yelled and pulled his head even further back, but then lost his grip and yelped when his younger half buried his teeth in his left forearm.

The the scenery changed once more. He was rolling in the dirt, it was dark and cold, and when he turned his head he saw it.
The dark silhouette of Herschel's farmhouse. The burning barn. And he felt how a walker was biting and chewing on his left arm.

"Get off me!" he yelled and managed to break free, spinning them around until he landed on top of the walker.

He pressed his bleeding forearm against its throat to stop it from biting him, but when he looked at the undead's face again he could see that it was..Murphy. Staring back at him with wide blue eyes. Connor let go of his brother in shock. Then, without a warning, his twin lunged out and punched his jaw hard, which made the Irishman fall to the ground with a loud gasp. He landed face down on a very cold concrete floor.

"What t'hell is wrong with yah?!" he heard a voice say and let out a groan, because Jesus, his jaw hurt.

Connor turned on his back and grabbed his aching jaw, and after blinking a couple of times he finally woke up properly.
When he turned his head he did not see Murphy but Daryl, who was glaring back at him with an angry frown.

"You nearly choked me, you asshole!" the hunter yelled and kicked the Irishman's thigh hard.

They could hear the crying of a baby downstairs. Right. They had managed to wake little ass-kicker up with all their yelling and fighting.

"Jesus" the blonde gasped and let go of his jaw to place his hand on his heaving chest.

He was still completely out of breath and his heart was racing, but he was slowly calming down. It had just been a dream. Just a dream.
He placed his left forearm on his eyes to shield them for a second as he tried to calm down.

"One of yer shitty dreams again?" Daryl asked after a moment and Connor shifted his arm so he could look at his friend, who was perfectly healthy.

No bite wounds, no flesh wounds. No bullet wounds.

Daryl had managed to get back on his feet and was now staring at him, and after a moment of gathering himself the Irishman nodded and wiped his face with a sigh.

"Aye. Aye..." he mumbled and finally sat up as well.

The world was spinning for a second and his shirt was glued to his back, and his shoulder was still aching like hell.
He still wasn't able to really speak although his friend was waiting for an explanation, and instead of explaining things the blonde got up with a grunt and headed for his bag.

"I need a cig" he muttered and heard Daryl snort.

They could hear how someone was talking downstairs, so they and the baby had woken up even more people. Connor searched his bag with shaky hands until he found the little package. He grabbed another slim white stick to put it in his mouth. Neither Daryl nor Connor would talk, and the Irishman took his time to light the cigarette and blew out some smoke after inhaling deeply. The taste and feeling of it calmed his nerves and pounding heart down, and he finally had the guts to turn around and face his friend. Daryl was just standing there, arms folded, looking both pissed and worried at the same time.

"Sorry man. I was just dreaming that there was a walker attacking me" Connor muttered and sat down on the ground in front of his bed.

He rubbed his forehead and took another shaky drag on his cigarette. Truth was that he was absolutely terrified. Not only because of this never-ending nightmare where he saw his dead twin brother, no, but also because this was the second time in less than 24 hours that he had actually attacked someone in this crazy state of mind, and that this time it had been Daryl. His friend wouldn't go back to bed again, he was just staring at him and the Irishman could no longer keep it in. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh.

"'s not the first time something like that happened" he muttered and Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, I know yer freak nightmare spasms too well by now" he growled and Connor chuckled miserably.

"I'm not talking about that" he said and looked up to face his friend properly.

"I...I think I killed someone yesterday. Just..ah fuck. Just like that."

The younger of the two men frowned, but wouldn't move an inch. He was just staring right at him.

"What?"

Connor nodded and moved his fingers through his messy hair. He then took another drag on his cigarette and looked at the floor.

"Aye. That's the reason why I tried ta get away from the prison and all you people. I was.."

He looked at Daryl again.

"I lied ta you. I remember almost everything about yesterday."

Daryl just looked at him for a while, then he moved a bit closer.

"Fuck, I think 'm really losing it" the Irishman went on and tried not to think about it, but the images were coming back now.

Just like Daryl the man in the hut had been struggling underneath him as he had choked him and choked him and choked him and..

"What happened?" the hunter asked and Connor narrowed his eyes at him.

"What do ye fucking think happened?! Jesus fucking Christ.." he answered with an angry headshake and took a drag on his cigarette.

Daryl got angry because of this sudden outburst from Connor and headed for his bed again.

"Nah, screw yah" he growled and was just about to climb up the bunk bed when his friend spoke up.

"I woke up in this strange room" he said and the hunter froze.

"There were two guards there. And the freak with the glasses" the Irishman went on and Daryl let go of the bed to look down at his friend, who avoided eye contact.

"They'd tied me to that bed. Stuck needles in my arms and god knows where. I don't know. They'd taken blood samples. Stitched me back together.
Poked the old bite and the new one with all sortsa wacky shit" the blonde explained and rubbed his forehead again.

"Then shit went ta hell when Rick and the others came ta get ye outta there. They left me alone in tha room, and I broke my hand ta get outta there.
Then...nothing. Fer a while. I remember stumbling through the woods, and there were all sortsa walkers around me. And..ah fuck. 's fucking ridiculous.."

"What?"

The blonde looked at the hunter with an angry frown.

"I heard them...talk ta me. Asking me fer help. Begging me."

Daryl raised an eyebrow but decided not to say anything to that just yet. Connor snorted and took another drag on his cigarette to calm himself down.
The crying downstairs was getting quieter as well.

"I know, sounds fucking insane. Just like I said. 'm probably losing it cos of this bite bullshit" he muttered and Daryl frowned.

"So yah killed them because they wouldn't shut up?"

The Irishman shook his head.

"No. It got worse. I reached a hut in the middle of the woods and there was someone in there. Some one alive. With a shotgun. He was trying ta protect his home. But I was so fucking crazy and confused that I attacked him. Just like ye a minute ago" he muttered and swallowed hard. "Only that I managed ta strangle him ta death."

There was silence for a very long while until Daryl let out a gentle snort.

"Shotgun? So it was self-defense. Don't be such a pussy bout it. People die. Happens all the time now."

"Yeah except that he was trying ta reason with me and he was begging fer his life, man. Fuck, I killed a poor innocent bastard" Connor answered and buried his face in his healthy hand. "I thought it was that guy who once tried ta kill Murph and I was so fucking angry and I strangled him and I bit him, I mean what the fuck? And 'm seeing Murph all the time. Dead 'n bloody. Not just in my dreams like I just did, no. Really freaking here in the prison. Outside. The corridors, fucking everywhere. He comes ta me, asks me ta come with 'im. Join them. This bullshit inside me, it's fuckin..."

He couldn't speak on because Daryl suddenly grabbed his chin and glared at him.

"What the.." Connor mumbled, but his friend ignored him.

He looked him right in the eye, then he placed his other hand on his forehead.

"No wonder. Yer brain's getting fried in there, dumbass" the hunter growled and shoved his friend's head back.

"Ow, asshole!" the Irishman complained when the back of his head hit the bed frame hard.

Daryl ignored him and headed for his bag to search it. When he turned around again he searched a small plastic bag which was filled with meds.
He threw a small bottle at Connor who caught it with a frown.

"Ain't no miracle cure or something, but should help yer stupid melon with the fever and the infection."

He then threw a small bottle of water at the blonde. Since Connor was using his healthy hand to hold the meds he could not catch it in time.
The bottle hit his face and Daryl couldn't hold back a satisfied snort.

"Ow! Jesus!" the blonde growled angrily and Daryl gave him an evil smirk.

"Serves yah right, wacko."

"Oh fuck you sideways" Connor muttered and opened the bottle to take a couple of pills.

"Could've given me that shit last time I got bit, ye know" he mumbled and his friend snorted as he put the plastic bag away.

"Yeah, I ain't throwing that shit around like M&Ms. Besides, I wasn't gonna waste 'em on some dumbass that was pretty much dead already."

"Fuck you" his friend answered and took a sip on the water.

Daryl turned around and pointed his finger at him.

"And don't tell Merle 'bout it. In fact, don't tell Merle about the bag at all."

Connor snorted and got back up.

"Why, you no longer his drug whore?"

Daryl glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"Shut up" he growled and concentrated on his bag again.

Connor threw his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then he tried to moved it under his bed.
He put the bottle on the ground and sat on the thin mattress whilst looking at his friend's back for a while.

"Hey" he muttered and his friend turned around.

"Thanks. Fer y'know. Asking. And giving me some of yer pills."

Daryl just looked at his friend, then nodded awkwardly. He turned around again to pretend that he was still busy with his bag just to hide the embarrassment.

"Well, we don't want yer worthless ass dying on us so soon" he muttered and heard Connor chuckle and shift behind him.

For a second the hunter actually thought that his friend had gotten out of bed again to do god knows what kind of faggy shit with him, hug him or god knows what he always did whenever he was actually nice to him, and part of him was actually surprised when he realized that he wanted that kind of thing to happen. But of course it wouldn't happen. When he carefully turned his head he could see that his friend was lying in his bed again, with his back turned on him. Daryl bit his lower lip awkwardly and then turned his head to have a look outside, just to make sure that his brother was nowhere in sight. Or anyone else.

He knew that this would probably be his last chance to be like that, because sooner or later Merle would move inside the cell block and make their kind of bonding and friendship impossible. Because his brother hated this sort of behavior, hated real sympathy and caring and honesty, anything that wasn't masculine enough. He was pretty sure that his brother would beat the crap out of him and call him all sorts of women's names or call him a fag as soon as he saw this sort of thing, so he took it as his last chance to be honest with his friend.

"Hey, leprechaun" he muttered and Connor answered with a tired "huh", that kind of lazy answer he was used to by now.

"Just wanted t'say thanks, too" he muttered and shifted awkwardly, whilst still looking at the door every once in a while.

Connor turned around to look at him.

"Fer what?"

Daryl scratched his nose.

"For...y'know..."

The Irishman raised an eyebrow and the hunter sighed.

"For stoppin Merle and beatin some sense and respect int'him."

When Connor smirked the hunter felt even more awkward and got angry. He pointed at his friend with a frown.

"But it still ain't any of your business. Don't do that shit again. He got it. I got it. 's not like I need yer help there. All the time. Just..." he let out a frustrated growl and Connor chuckled.

"'s alright. Don't be thinking too hard, ye might hurt yerself."

The hunter narrowed his eyes.

"Fuck you."

The blonde chuckled once more and lay down again.

"Yer welcome, brother."

Silence.

Daryl was still looking at his friend, and although he didn't want to speak it out he still did it.

"And Connor?"

"Aye?" the blonde asked tiredly but wouldn't look at him.

"'m really glad you got your ass back here" the hunter muttered and then finally headed for his bed because this whole thing was getting pretty ridiculous.

Oh god, part of him really wanted Merle to come in now and call him a sissy and a fag. Just so he could punch someone's face and get angry because he was no fucking emotional princess. He was Daryl Dixon, for Christ's sakes! He was one tough fucker! He hated how much this stupid whiny leprechaun had changed him. It was about time that Merle was back to kick his ass. Connor was still chuckling to himself.

"Love ye, too, Darylena."

Daryl tried to climb up their bed and used the position he was currently in to kick his friend's behind as hard as he could because of that remark.

"Fuck you."