Hello! New chapter! It's rather long, but I didn't want to cut it in half =)

setting: mixed episodes 12 "Clear" and 15 "This Sorrowful Life"

Damnation

Chapter 49 - Friends

Daryl wouldn't let his friend out of their cell until the end of the day. Rick had eventually returned after a couple of hours and was now helping the others outisde, which made the Irishman furious all over again. He didn't get how they kept him locked in this cell, but after complaining and shouting for several hours he still had to discover that it was useless. Connor had calmed down after a while and he had even taken a nap when the dizziness and pain in his shoulder had returned. He had used the rest of the day to work on his map and planned to kill the Governor on his own, now that it was obvious that people didn't seem to want to cooperate with him at all. The Irishman had made the decision to stop talking about it and kept it to himself now, because he didn't want to be locked up forever and because he didn't want Daryl to know that he was planning on going back there alone. He had thought this through for hours, and he came to the conclusion that it was just too dangerous to drag his friend with him anyway. He had already killed his brother with one of his stupid plans, and there was no way he was going to get Daryl killed now. It was probably a suicide mission, but he did not care. It wasn't like he wanted to die, he really wanted to live because despite all the crap that was going on he actually liked it here, liked all those people, but this was exactly the point.

He wanted them to be safe.

Connor looked up when he heard the rattling of keys and the creaking of the cell door.
Daryl was standing there and looked at him with a slight smirk on his face.

"Yah still alive?" he muttered as he entered their cell and put his crossbow down. Connor put the map down and snorted.

"Fuck you. 'm gonna lock yer ass in here next."

Daryl chuckled and then sighed. Connor sat up a bit more and looked at his friend.

"How's things outside?"

The hunter sat down on the small stool and got rid of his boots.

"Same as ever. Piles of walking rotten meat. Rick, Maggie, Glenn 'n I spent all afternoon trying to clear out the parking lot to close the hole back there. Drove the cars around and moved trash and furniture to put up extra cover in the yard. And then we dragged all the tables outta the cafeteria and used 'em as barricades up in the walkways."

Connor just watched his friend and chewed on the inner side of his cheek.

"Could've helped ye with that, ye know? Yer not my mother, no need ta lock me in all day."

"Screw you. It's for your best" Daryl answered and then looked at the Irishman.

"Now get your ass over here and finish this goddamn thing on my back."

Connor raised both his eyebrows and started chuckling.

"Hoho look at her, bossing me around like there's no tamorrow" the Irishman answered but did as he was told.

He got up and searched his bag for the pen whereas Daryl got rid of his shirt and folded both his arms on the table. He still felt awkward because of the whole thing, but he wanted to use the time Merle was still sleeping outside their cell block. Sooner or later the younger Dixon would have to leave this cell to be with his brother as soon as he was allowed in here, and he really wanted to get this done to cover up as many scars as possible.

He didn't want Merle to see them every day, because he hated feeling like a victim and because he didn't want his brother to feel guilty. He still couldn't stop thinking about the look on the older Dixon's face when he had first seen the scars. For years he had been able to hide them from his brother, and now this. He wanted his past to be gone, didn't want to be reminded of their father, didn't want Merle to be reminded of everything that had been done to him. Because he knew that the old man had been even more horrible to him. After a couple of minutes of waiting he finally felt the scratching of the bandaged hand on his left shoulder and the pricking of the needle on his right.

"Don't be screwing up the other one" the hunter reminded his friend for what felt like the millionth time.

He liked those demons on his shoulder, and he had made it very clear that he wanted them to stay like that. He trusted Connor and knew that the guy wouldn't screw it up, but he just needed to complain about something, because there was no way he was ever going to make it easy for the blonde.

"Nah, too late. Already made them fairies with magic wands and bikinis."

Daryl snorted and tried to hit his friend, and when the back of his hand connected with bare skin he let out a growl.

"Screw yah. And put a fuckin shirt on. That's fuckin gay."

Connor chuckled even more and ignored the command.

"Fuck ye, it's like 130 fucking degrees in here."

Daryl waited for several minutes until he finally spoke. He had not just come in here because they were done for today. The whole tattooing thing was not only for the mere getting it finished purpose, he also wanted to keep his friend busy and focused on something as he was about to tell him something which he knew Connor wouldn't like. Not at all. He counted the pricks of the needle and lost count at about 247, and when the tip moved over a particularly sensitive spot close to his spine he finally started talking.

"Andrea came back" he muttered and the pricking slowed down.

The voice of his friend gave it away that he was still busy, but there was still interest and even worry in there.

"Really? What'd she say? She stayin here?"

Daryl shook his head and shifted.

"Nope."

He didn't really want to say it, but he'd rather tell Connor about this now instead of causing all sorts of drama tomorrow morning.

He kept quiet for a bit and the Irishman's pricking got more unsteady and lost its rhythm, now that it was obvious that he was waiting for an explanation.

"Well?"

The hunter sighed and looked down at his arms.

"We're gonna go and meet 'em at an old abandoned farm tomorrow. T'discuss business."

The pricking stopped. Connor raised his head to look at the back of his friend's head.
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he contemplated the whole plan, then he started working on the tattoo again and nodded.

"Okay..." he muttered and Daryl shook his head.

"You ain't comin. It's gonna be me, Herschel and Rick."

The pricking stopped once more and Connor looked at his friend in disbelief.

"What?!"

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. Rick doesn't want you there. And I don't want yah there neither. You need to keep it down and.."

"If ye say I gotta rest one more time then I'm gonna poke yer fucking eye out with this pen, man" Connor growled and let go of his friend.

Daryl turned around to see what was going on.
The Irishman was standing right in front of him, healthy hand resting on his hip as he looked down at the hunter with an angry frown.

"Are you fucking serious? Yer gonna take a fucking cripple with you instead of me? My hand's just broken and my wounds are cared for, but Herschel, what's he gonna do? He's missing a fucking leg, man? Even if ye didn't take me with ye, why's it gotta be the old man instead? What about yer brother? Glenn? Maggie? And yer people telling me that my fucking plans are suicidal? Next thing yer gonna tell me is that yer meeting this filthy Governor bastard himself!"

Daryl just looked at him instead of giving him an answer, and the Irishman knew what it meant.
He moved his healthy hand across his face and shook his head.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Daryl. Do ye really think that those fucks are getting ye there ta talk? Are ye really this stupid?"

The hunter got up as well and put his shirt back on.

"Yeah, well we can try at least, you dumbass. What about your whole talk about how yer getting tired of burying so many people? Well, same over here.
We can try this at least. There ain't no need for people to die. Rick wants to do it this way, so we're gonna do it."

The Irishman exploded even more.

"Well when I was talking about all those graves I wasn't talking about those evil motherfuckers. Damn right they deserve ta die!
And damn right there need to be more graves fer people like him. Have some fucking balls fer once and stop being Rick's lapdog!
This is some serious shit here!"

And Daryl had enough as well.

"We ain't like you, alright? We don't just go anywhere and start blasting people's heads off. Which is exactly the reason why we ain't taking you with us. Same thing with Glenn and Merle. Y'all people are the stupid ones. Yer the ones that ain't thinking. Leave it to us three, we got it covered. We gotta talk this through first. Should he do anything weird I'm gonna shoot him dead before he even gets to pull the trigger" he growled and tried to get inside his bed.

Connor followed him and grabbed him by his shoulder.

"Then take me with ye fer this. You don't want me ta shoot him right away? Fine. But take me with ye as cover. There's no way 'm gonna let ye people go out there on yer own. They could be surrounding ye or plan god knows what kinda shit. I come with you and watch after you people, I promise I won't kill him as soon as I see him. Come on, brother, trust me."

Daryl stopped moving around the bed and looked at his friend, who was grabbing his shoulder so hard that it actually hurt. It was obvious that the whole plan scared the shit out of Connor, which had been the very reason why the hunter had been so reluctant to tell him about it at first. But Rick was right, Connor was a danger to their possible solution and peace. Although he knew that the whole thing was probably really pointless just like his friend said, there was a part of him that really wanted to believe in this sort of less bloody solution.

Even after all these months of killing walkers he still didn't want to be a killer himself, didn't want to kill living people. Although it had been necessary back at Woodbury he had not liked shooting all those people back there, and he certainly didn't want to do the whole war thing ever again. So Connor and Merle needed to stay back, and Rick, Andrea and maybe even Herschel needed to solve the whole thing the diplomatic way. Not with a bullet. No. It was dangerous, but it needed to be done.

"You want me t'trust yah?" he asked and Connor looked at him with a confused frown, because he didn't know what the hunter was aiming at.

He still nodded and Daryl did the same.

"Fine. Then trust me first."

The Irishman snorted and let go of his friend.

"You cannot seriously th.."

"You told me 'bout Boston and how you managed to stay alive on yer own for months. Fine. I know yah can watch your ass. And I certainly didn't lock yah in here because of your stupid shoulder. And 'm telling yah now. Before I met you dumbass I was perfectly fine on my own as well. You survived Boston, I survived Atlanta. I know 'bout your skills and I trust yer instincts and everything, and if we really wanna stay the way we are, then I think it's 'bout time yah start trusting and believin in me for once."

Connor pressed his lips together and looked at his friend. He didn't like this, not at all.
Especially how Daryl was playing this card right now when he was about to go somewhere dangerous without him to protect his stupid redneck ass.

"So I'm gonna go with Rick'n Herschel. And yah gonna trust me this time" Daryl went on and then climbed up their bed to get some sleep.

The dream was pretty much the same, except that it was completely different. Once again Connor was all alone, and once again he knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He was at Herschel's farmhouse, it was night, there was fire, but when he looked down on his left arm there was no blood, no wound, no nothing. He was completely fine. Except that nothing was fine. Once again there were the terrible screams and he could hear how his name was being repeated over and over again, so he started running and yelling as well, but as soon as he reached the corner he had to realize that he was too late.

Again.

This time neither a walker nor his dead brother was waiting for him. No, this time it was Daryl who was standing there, all bloody, battered, and most of all: dead. Or more like, undead. He could see the Governor standing there right in front of him, and he was laughing and laughing about how stupid they all were, to really believe he was willing to talk. And this time he wasn't shoving some random walker but Daryl at him, to make him bite him, to see what was going to happen to him with his immunity. All Connor could see was the blood, the dead eyes, and this time it didn't remind him of Murphy, didn't hurt because he had to think about his brother's death. No. It hurt because it was Daryl.

He opened his eyes with a loud gasp and startled, both his hands clenched to a tight fist. A sharp pain shot through his broken hand as he realized that he was straining it too much. The Irishman stared at the bottom of the bed above him and tried to calm down. He knew that Daryl had asked him to trust him. Problem was that he couldn't fucking do it.

He just couldn't.

Connor took a deep breath and then got up. He rubbed his face with his healthy hand and then stood up to head for his bag so he could get a smoke. He lit it and then leaned against the wall, and for a while he just watched his friend sleep in the top bed. He knew he had promised, and he really wanted to let Daryl know that he trusted him. Of course he did. Their friendship meant really much to him, because he actually had to admit that he had never been that close to an other person before. Apart from Murphy, of course.

The blonde liked how their relationship had blossomed over the past couple of months, and he didn't want to risk that now. He really didn't want to stab Daryl in the back, and he just knew that this was their next step right here. If they pulled this through, if he let the hunter pass and do his thing without questioning it then there was even more trust going on between them, and it would make their friendship even tighter. But could he really do this? And risk Daryl's life over that?

He blew out some smoke and shook his head.

It wasn't like he didn't trust Rick and Hershel. He knew they were going to look after Daryl just like his friend was going to look after himself. But much in contrast to Merle Dixon his brother instincts were far more present, far more demanding, and they made him far more paranoid. Especially after what had happened to Murphy. Things were going to take a very bad turn if he wasn't there with him. He just knew it. He had bad dreams all the time, but he also remembered the other nightmares he'd had before. Weeks before Murphy had died. He'd dreamt about it and then it had happened. So what if it was going to happen now, too? How the fuck was he supposed to let Daryl go?

He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, he repeated in his head, over and over again. Just then Daryl opened his eyes and looked at him, poncho pulled up to his nose and longer black hair shielding his forehead. It was dark and only blue eyes were staring at him,, piercing right through him, watching him just like he was being watched himself.

Connor put the smoke back in his mouth and just stared back, and they didn't even need to say what they were thinking.

I can't do this, man.

I know what you're up to. And I won't let yah screw this up.

No one said anything, they were just there, glaring at each other, lost in thoughts.

This was the second time in a row that the rattling of keys woke Connor up. Once again he found himself locked in their cell and glared at Daryl, who was standing on the other side of the door. The hunter was wearing his leather jacket and held on to his new crossbow, ready to leave. Connor stared back at his friend and didn't even waste another second on actually getting up and trying to fight. He was just staring his friend down and shook his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Ye can't keep me locked in here ferever, man" he muttered and Daryl pressed his lips together.

He didn't like the whole thing either. He didn't want to leave on his own, but this was the only way to keep everyone safe for now. Especially the Irishman.

"It's for your best" he said for what felt like the millionth time.

Connor finally got up and headed for the bars as Daryl grabbed his crossbow and was about to leave.

"Hey" the Irishman called after him and the hunter rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I told yah, yer just gonna screw this all up and make..."

"Nah. Just. Watch yer ass, alright?" the blonde demanded and Daryl just looked at him.

Both men looked at each other for a while, then Connor pointed his tattooed finger at his friend.

"Be careful. I'm gonna fucking kill ye if you get yer ass killed out there."

Daryl was actually surprised by the fact that his friend wasn't putting up a fight this time. He looked in his piercing eyes and tried to make out what the guy was really thinking, but he really couldn't read him. Maybe Connor was honest about the whole thing.

Fine. Then trust me first.

Maybe he really meant it. Maybe this really was Connor listening to him, trusting him after all these months of being together. And maybe this was his friend finally seeing him as Daryl, as a person of his own, a person he didn't need to motherhen as much as his brother, a person he would rather trust than look after. Maybe this really was the part where the Irishman was actually acting like an adult about the whole thing. The hunter smirked and nudged the bars, as if to nudge his friend's shoulder.

"Carol and the others got the keys 'n case of emergencies" he informed the blonde and then turned around to leave, because he also needed to talk to Merle before leaving.

"See yah later" he muttered and soon disappeared.

As soon as Daryl had left the cell block Connor completely lost his cool. He had faked everything. Of course he had. He knew that there was no point in arguing with Daryl over this, because no matter what he said and did, Rick and his friend didn't want him to come. No matter what. And this was probably a good thing, considering that he had plans of his own now. He knew where the Governor was going to be in a couple of hours. He had his guns with him, his knife...

He had a plan.

The Irishman grabbed the cell door and started shaking it, trying to see if it was locked tight. And of course it was. Daryl really meant it. Connor sighed and let go. He then put both his hands on his hips and inspected the bars a little closer. He had a plan, now he just needed to get out of this godforsaken cell...

He had been searching the nearby corridors and other passageways when he finally found his brother. Merle had run off on his own again, because even now he didn't really seemed to be interested in becoming a part of the group. Daryl had already told his brother about their plan earlier this morning, and he supposed that the older Dixon was still brooding just as much as Connor over the whole decision. He heard the rattling of something in the laundry room close by, and it didn't really sound like a walker. Maybe it really was his brother, so he finally decided to call out for him.

"Merle! You down here?" he asked and entered the room, hands still holding his new crossbow up high.

The rattling eventually stopped, and when the younger Dixon entered the laundry room he saw that it really was his brother making noise in there.

"Hey little brother!" Merle greeted him and leaned against one of the large washing machines, and it was obvious that he was up to something.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and looked at his brother with a frown.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he came closer, trying to make out what the fuck Merle had screwed up this time.

He couldn't really see anything, but the older Dixon was way too fidgety and strange not to be doing something. Not to speak about how he was all alone down here.

"I was just 'bout to holler back atcha" Merle answered him and rubbed his mouth, making it even more obvious that something was wrong.

Daryl knew exactly what was going on, but he decided to play dumb for a bit more. Because he didn't even want to hear the truth.

"Where's your girlfriend?" the older Dixon went on, but his sibling ignored him.

"What you doin down here?" the hunter asked instead, and kept walking.

Merle finally spoke out the truth the younger Dixon had dreaded and didn't really want to hear.
His brother chuckled and tried to wrap an arm around his shoulder, but Daryl moved out of his reach.

"Just lookin for a little crystal meth, baby bro."

Daryl rolled his eyes at him and then turned away. He still hated the whole topic. Merle seemed to get this immediately, but wouldn't let go.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Shit mess my life up when everything's going so sweet, right? Yeah, well screw yah. If it weren't for yah girlfriend and you then I wouldn't even be searchin this stinking shithole."

Daryl knew exactly that Merle was aiming at the bag and the fact that it was locked with Connor, but there was no way he was giving in.

"Well, there's yah reason why we're keepin it locked away from yah."

Merle chuckled.

"Wouldn't be surprisin me if that mick took that shit himself after everything 've heard 'bout him. Boy's really lost it, ain't he?"

Once again the younger Dixon decided to just ignore all of his brother's tries to get into a fight over Connor.
He leaned against a wall and folded his arms instead.

"We're gonna leave in 'bout 20 minutes. I need yah to take it easy, alright?"

Merle frowned and kept rubbing his face and arms, withdrawal symptoms showing.

"What, yah taking that leprechaun with you but I ain't allowed to join the party? Ridiculous, look at y'all, mice running right at the trap all blinded by cheesy promises that sugar tits made."

Daryl just stared at Merle, discomfort growing inside him with every word his brother spoke. He knew what was coming next because he absolutely dreaded it ever since he had talked to Connor about the whole thing. Once again he didn't want to hear the ugly truth and wanted to believe just like yesterday evening, but that wouldn't keep Merle from talking.

"Yah know the Governor's just bluffing, right? Soon as he sees you people he's gonna start shootin. Make your officer friendly die real slow. And then his people are gonna come over here, throw your heads 'cross the fence and start killin us next. Me, your friends, that mick...But you know that, don't you?"

Daryl just kept staring at his brother and pressed his lips together. But even he couldn't fight the slight nod that broke through.
Yes, he knew that Merle and Connor were probably right, but he still wanted to help Rick. He owed this group after everything they had done for him.

"Whatever Rick says goes" he tried to counter, but all his efforts were useless. Merle handled the whole situation a whole lot different than Connor. He would not be mad at him or yell at him and shove him and ask him to wake up. The older Dixon forced him to wake up and listen by just laughing at his younger Dixon.

"Man" he muttered and shook his head.

"Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother? Are they even attached? I mean even if they are, they belong to you?"

Are ye really this stupid? Have some fucking balls fer once and stop being Rick's lapdog!

Daryl turned around with a snort because he did no longer want to look at his brother. His and Connor's whole talk was ridiculous and awkward. And that not just because of their choice of words, but also because it embarrassed Daryl. Because he knew they were both right. This was ridiculous and stupid, but this was the way he worked now, this was how he liked to live now. He didn't want to have to look after people for once. He didn't want to be the voice of reason for once. He wanted to be stupid and naive.

He didn't want to make decisions and tell people what to do. Whether it was him telling Merle to stop taking drugs and live his life or whether it was him telling Connor not to try to kill himself and destroy everything he had left of his brother. No, just for once he wanted to be the person being told to do something, just for once he just wanted to carry out something, a plan, an order, just for once he wanted to be the little kid who was told what to do by a big brother or father figure like Rick. But of course, once again Connor and Merle had to screw that up for him, had to make him feel bad about everything he was doing.

"You used t'call people like that sheep. What happened t'you?" Merle went on and Daryl looked back at him, trying to stand his man for once.

Because for the first time in his life he actually didn't fear his big brother anymore. Merle was his brother, that was true, and he loved him, but Merle wasn't his big brother anymore, and he didn't have any sort of authority. It was just Merle, his flesh and blood, who had screwed up his entire life and did not deserve to be talking to him like that now.

"I made friends" he defended himself.

Merle snorted loudly and shook his head, but Daryl kept going.

"People who don't make me feel like crap. People who like me. And appreciate me. People who need me."

The older Dixon would not listen to him.

"Friends."

He huffed and shook his head.

"You need t'grow up. Things are different now. There ain't no such things as friends, little D."

Daryl looked down but his brother kept watching him.

"Remember how things were back at Atlanta, hm? The looks they were givin yah, how they kept laughin behind your back, called yah some redneck trash?
They just used your huntin skills, didn't keep yah around for company."

The younger Dixon snorted and shook his head. Thinking about that still hurt, but he tried to pretend that it had not been like that back then.

"Ain't true" he muttered, his voice lacking confidence and strength already.

Merle chuckled because he saw that he got his younger sibling now.

"Yeah, reckon it was just like that back on your farm, hm? They make yah do their dirty work, I saw yah here. You go and fetch their things like a dog. Pathetic.
And the thing with blondie? Your friend? He's just using yah. He told me."

Daryl looked up, his lips nothing but a pale thin line.

"Blondie ain't your friend outta the goodness of his heart. Ever notice the fact that yah look just like his own little bro? Hell, I saw the picture. He ain't keepin yah around for no chitchat. Blondie's just chasing a ghost. Keeps yah around or else that guy's just gonna put a bullet t'his own head the way he's already lost his brains. Those people don't keep yah for no friendship bracelets and sleepover parties. They're using yah. We're here t'do their dirty work. Nothing more, Darylena. People do what they gotta do or they die. 's all it's about. Ain't no such thing as 'friends'" the older Dixon rambled and kept stressing and repeating the word friend as if it were the most hilarious thing ever.

It really hurt Daryl now because those were all the things he couldn't stop thinking about himself. Every single day whenever he watched Rick and the others from afar, every single day he had been watching them for over a year. Not to mention how he couldn't stop thinking about everything his brother had just said whenever he was with Connor. When the Irishman wouldn't shut up about Murphy, whenever it felt like his friend was looking right through him. For just a second he lost his cool and swallowed hard when he felt a lump in his throat. Even after all these months of being without his brother and changing so much it still felt like Merle could read him and get under his skin.

The hunter took a deep breath and then shook his head stubbornly. He tried to think about the past winter, everything good that had happened to him ever since he had been with the group and ever since he had found Connor. No. Merle might be right about one thing: things were different now. But not like he had said. He did have friends and he did feel better because of them, and he wouldn't let his brother pull him down anymore. His past was done, covered up and healing just like the tattoo on his back was covering the scars and made him heal. He stepped closer to his brother and kept shaking his head, confidence growing with every step he took.

"Can't do things without people anymore, man" he said and Merle just snorted.

His big brother still didn't want to hear anything he had to say, still didn't want to change himself. Once again it was obvious that the older Dixon was very jealous of the group and especially Connor, and it looked like he was trying anything to destroy that bond, to keep the old Daryl with him, because the new stronger and more confident Daryl was a stranger to him.

The hunter was a bit hesitant because he knew his brother and how much he would hate this. But at the same time Merle was just like a year ago, and he knew exactly what to do to make it better for his brother. He didn't want Merle to be jealous and upset by the fact that he wasn't such a big part of his life anymore, so he moved closer and closer with a couple of shaky steps. His older sibling seemed to be confused but Daryl kept going, and after coming closer and closer the younger Dixon actually reached out for him with a shaky and reluctant hand and then placed it on his brother's shoulder. Connor had always been like this, so physical, so full of brotherly love and caring, and after months of being brainwashed by the Irishman Daryl was actually ready and willing to do the same thing now. Because he knew how much it had helped and changed him for the better. So he carefully placed a hand on Merle's shoulder and looked him directly in the eye, making it clear that this was important to him.

"I just want my brother back" he said, and it felt like his words were echoing through the room over and over again.

He let go of the older Dixon when he noticed how surprised and even shocked he was.

"Get out of here, man" Merle gasped, and for a minute he actually couldn't hide the emotion that crossed his face and voice.

The older Dixon turned around with an angry headshake, and Daryl was a bit disappointed by his brother's reaction.

"They really turn you into a sissy in here, didn't they? Disgusting" Merle growled and resumed his search for drugs, and this time he moved things even louder and more violently than before. Daryl watched him for a second longer, then he looked down with a gentle and disappointed sigh.

"'ll be back in a couple 'a hours" he murmured, hoping to get another reaction from his brother.

Maybe another insult, maybe another endless rant about how ridiculous the whole thing was, but Merle wouldn't react at all.

So Daryl really was free to go, and he was surprised that it actually disappointed and hurt him. Neither Merle or Connor would really fight for him to stay with them, no matter what he said and did now. The younger Dixon grabbed his crossbow and finally headed outside, where the other two men were already waiting for him by the car.