Okay, I lied. There's not one last chapter but three last chapters. I thought I could fit all that stuff in one chapter, but I was wrong. Lol. Sorry.
I'm terrible at the whole estimating thing. Anyway. Uploading the last three chapters in one go today!

setting: between seasons 3 and 4

Damnation

Chapter 68 - Woodbury

Connor ended up riding Daryl's motorcycle, no matter how much his friend really hated it. The hunter was in no condition to drive around like that, so he was forced to sit in the backseat of the Hyundai. The groups were driving back to Woodbury with the help of several cars, and even now there was no such thing as trust going on between them. People were being watched in rear view mirrors the entire time, as if they were just waiting for someone to pull a gun or a grenade launcher or god knows what kind of weapons they still had with them. They were quite lucky if they were honest. Now that the prison group had shot so many men back at the prison the majority of the Woodbury group were women, which were more reasonable by default. It had taken what felt like ages to get them to take the prison group with them, and once again they thanked god that they had people like Andrea and Hershel with them, who were quite good at the whole reasoning part.

Connor had tried to be the voice of reason as well, but no one would really believe him anymore because he had been the one to shoot most of their former enemies, and because he had been the one who had thrown the grenade at the car. It looked like the people of Woodbury liked him least because of that, but truth was that he didn't even really care anymore. All that mattered to him right now was Daryl's wellbeing. He didn't really like the idea of bringing his friend back to the very man who had practically forced him to break his own hand, the man who had strapped him to a bed and who had taken his blood without his permission, but he would do anything to get Daryl through this whole getting shot and having his blood in his veins thing.

He honestly couldn't wait to learn more about the immunity thing, and he really hoped that this doctor, or whatever the hell that guy was, could tell them more about it. If walkers really didn't attack Daryl as well now that he had his blood inside him, then maybe there really was some sort of cure, then maybe they could really end all this with his blood.

He certainly wanted everything to end. This war, all the deaths, the end of the world. They deserved it after all.

Whenn they finally reached Woodbury they were suprised by the sheer seize of the walls once again. Even though the Governor had been some seriously fucked up psycho they had to acknowledge his work on this town. It didn't take them too long to get inside, although they had some explaining to do. There were two people keeping watch on top of the walls, and for some weird reason Rick and the others already knew them. There was some yelling, there was some discussion, there was some blaming and insulting going on, but after spending way too much time on it the prison group was finally allowed to enter. As they were guided over to the area where they kept their cars Connor couldn't help but stare at the surrounding houses. Last time he had been inside here it had been dark, and he had been trapped inside some of the less pretty houses.

But now there was broad daylight, there were some kids and older people outside, and the town was so clean and tidy that it actually looked ridiculous. They were used to filthy houses, prisons and storage units by now. They couldn't even really remember the last time they had come across clean houses. Proper electricity. Proper running water.

And here they were.

Woodbury.

Once they reached the parking lot everyone got outside their vehicles, and even now there was nothing but tension going on. Rick, Andrea and the others were discussing something regarding their new alliance. Connor was interested in it. Of course he was. He was the man with the plans, he was the one who was used to bossing people around. But he was too tired, and he didn't even really want to be part of anything right now. Yes, he had guided this group through this war and it had been his plan for the most part that had gotten them together, but now he needed a break from all that. He was good at killing, he was good at planning murders, he was good at guiding small groups, but he was also far too chaotic to be able to guide such a large group like that. A whole town. No thank you, there would be no discussion. Rick would have to handle that shit first. And if he didn't like something then he would get noisy enough about it soon enough.

Daryl was Connor's number one priority, so he got off his friend's motorbike and then walked over to the car, where the hunter was currently trying to get out. He rushed to his help but once again Daryl wouldn't let him, and the hunter was especially grumpy right now because Connor had used the motorbike despite their previous discussion about it.

The Irishman noticed that his friend was in really bad shape again, because the drive over here had done him no good. They had passed the scene of their previous car crash and after that the old abandoned farm where they had lost Merle, and one could tell that Daryl was tired, upset and even a bit traumatized by everything. It really looked like the hunter needed to sleep for a couple of hours, maybe even days, and if Connor was honest then he had to admit he could use a nap, too. He hadn't really slept in days because of everything that had happened ever since they had come here to Woodbury for the first time.

Connor patted his friend's back and refrained from asking him how he was. He still wanted to help Daryl get to his bike, though. Of course the hunter needed to check everything now, needed to make sure that his well preserved last memory of his brother was kept in good shape. Connor looked up in the mean time, to see where Andrea was, maybe even that weirdo Doctor they really needed to see. He noticed that their friend was standing there right next to Rick, Hershel and a few survivors from Woodbury, and after telling Daryl that he would be right back and hearing a grumpy and tired "Whatever" he made his way over to the rest of the group.

There seemed to be another discussion going on. This time it was about where the prison group was supposed to stay, and although Connor was interested in that as well he still wanted to make sure that Daryl was taken care of first. After listening to some of the arguments for a moment he finally tapped Andrea on the shoulder to get her attention.

"You seen yer Miller guy anywhere?" he asked and Andrea had a look around, only to shake her head.

"No. I haven't seen Milton yet. Maybe he's in his office?"

Connor automatically tensed at the mention of this place, because it reminded him of the dreadful experiences he'd had there just a couple of days ago.
He rubbed his forehead gently and then nodded at Daryl.

"I just think he's the guy t'go to to have someone take a look at Daryl. He's not doing so well" he muttered and considered that it would be best not to tell everyone about his assumption that Daryl was probably infected with the same strange thing he carried inside of him ever since he had been bitten the first time. Andrea moved her hair out of her eyes and let out a gentle sigh.

"Why don't you just let Hershel help for now? Dr. Stevens and the others are a bit busy right now. A lot of people have been hurt and need help as well. Why don't you just take him inside that house over there. Top floor. It's empty now. It used to belong to Martinez and Shumpert."

Connor turned his head to take a look at the house she was pointing at. The houses were really nice, far nicer than anything he had ever lived in his entire life, and he still couldn't really believe that they were supposed to really stay here. He supposed that it was a good idea to move in and let everything calm down for a bit, but he still wanted someone to take a look at his friend before that. He watched Daryl again and how his friend awkwardly tried to fix something on his motorbike, but the hunter kept scratching and feeling his chest and it was obvious that the pain from the bullet wound was getting worse and worse with every more hour he was awake. They didn't have any pain pills or medication yet, so he couldn't wait to give something to his friend now. He nodded and looked at Andrea again.

"Alright. 'm gonna help him get up there. But still, where's that Milton guy's office again? It was dark last time I got here, and I wasn't exactly in good shape when I left. He really should take a..."

They didn't even get to speak on, because right then three men emerged from an back alley.
Two men were carrying a severely beat up other man between them, and before Connor got to ask what was going on Andrea already reacted.

"Milton!" she exclaimed and started running to help her friend.

There was even more chaos, because as soon as people saw how bloody Milton was they automatically assumed that it was their fault. Guns were being drawn and pointed at each other, and since Milton needed a lot more time to answer their questions because of his swollen face things were already about to escalate again. But then their were answers to their questions, and after Milton revealed that the Governor had been the one to beat him up after he had tried to help Andrea escape there was nothing but angry grumbling going on.

It was obvious that Woodbury didn't like the fact that the prison group was right about everything. Right about that their former leader had been a psychopath, right about the fact that there had been torture and murder going on behind their backs. Maybe it was a good thing that Woodbury seemed to be ashamed, but Connor still thought very little of them. He was pretty sure that at least one third knew about everything but had decided to keep quiet about it instead of protesting against this mindless war. And once again he was reminded of the things their monsignor had said back in Boston, the one thing that got even more obvious now that the apocalypse had happened.

But there is one thing that we should fear the most, and that is the indifference of good men.

He offered his help to Milton and the others, but it didn't really look like anyone needed or wanted him anywhere now anyway, so he walked back to Daryl to get him away from the crazy mob for now. His friend was still fiddling about with his motorbike and didn't seem to be too interested in what was happening around him.

Connor approached his friend with a gentle headshake, while still keeping an eye on Andrea and the others. Just looking at Milton sent a shiver down his spine. Last time he had seen this man he had been in terrible pain, and just seeing his face seemed to bring back all the ugly memories at once. He kind of knew now that the guy wasn't really that bad, judging by the fact that he had never really hurt him, that he had taken care of his wounds and how he had helped Andrea and managed to get himself beat up like that. He also knew that he was supposed to feel sorry for that unlucky bastard, but even now he couldn't really feel sorry. Even now he thought that the guy kind of deserved it just for the fact that he had trapped him like that back then. He tried to think about something else, because he didn't want these old memories about Woodbury to dominate him now. This was supposed to be a fresh start for him. For everyone. He needed to make this work for the group, himself and Daryl. He took a deep breath and nudged his friend's back gently.

"Found us an apartment. I told Andrea that we wanna see this Milton guy later. So he can tell us what te fuck's wrong with you with all te blood.
You should probably rest now."

Daryl snorted and finally looked up from his bike to eye the other Woodbury survivors.

"What, with all those crazies right on our doorstep? Nah. Ain't no way 'm gettin anywhere close to no bed in here for a while" he growled and pointed at his motorbike.

"Besides, yah dumbass fucked my bike up. Gotta fix it."

Connor looked at the vehicle with a frown. He didn't know too much about motorbikes and cars and all that shit, considering that he had never really owned anything like that himself, but he did know enough about it to see that there was nothing wrong with Daryl's motorcycle. Even when he had driven it over here he hadn't noticed anything weird at all.

"Yeah, sure."

Daryl just turned around again and pretended that he was working on his bike, although it was very obvious now that he didn't need to do it. Connor put his healthy hand in his jeans pocket and watched his friend for a while, while listening to everything that was being talked about all around him. He could still hear how many mistrusted them and kept whispering and mumbling all sorts of things about them when they thought no one of the prison group was listening. He heard about how this Dr. Stevens person was full on busy taking care of all the cuts, scratches and bullet wounds from the shootings and war earlier, and how Milton had been beaten to a bloody pulp. No one would stop talking about the Governor either.

He was seriously getting sick of all this. No matter how much he appreciated all the walls and clean houses around them: the prison had been better in one regard. Silence. Privacy. Some sort of safety. Not that much distrust and hate. He knew that he wasn't going to get Daryl away from here like that, to ask him to rest, so he did the only other thing he knew that would work on his friend. Not treat him like a sissy and ask him to work instead. Because this was the one thing the hunter always wanted to do. Work. Help. Be useful.

"Anyway, 'm gonna move some of our stuff inside. Andrea said we should be fine in there. No one's in there, and we need ta pick eventually.
Better take our chances, don't want any of these fucks ta take the best houses before us."

Daryl started working on a screw and nodded without really looking at him.

"Yeah, you do that" he muttered and Connor had to grid his teeth to keep his cool.

He understood that his friend was injured, in pain and currently grieving his brother's death, but he was getting sick of this already. He knew this kind of behaviour all too well by now. Especially from back at the farm. This was the card Daryl always played when he didn't want to be weak. Play the grumpy, quiet and indifferent asshole. One second he was extremely clingy and bitched at him about every little thing he did wrong because he obviously didn't want to lose him and see him in pain, but as soon as he tried to do the same with Daryl, his friend had to be stubborn like that. Connor gritted his teeth even more and looked at their stuff.

"Got a broken hand and fucked up shoulder in case you didn't notice" he muttered and used the only bait he had left, although he hated to admit that he had a weakness right now as well.

Daryl turned around and eyed him head to toe, and Connor tried to look extra miserable on purpose. It wasn't really hard to do something like that, because he really was in pain himself and because his shoulder really was nasty anyway with all the angry flesh and split stitches from the day before. Daryl pressed his lips together and seemed to be contemplating the silent plea for a bit, but then stood up and grabbed some bags they didn't even know if it really belonged to them.

"Fine" he growled and headed for the door, which made the Irishman smirk a moment later.

Connor grabbed another couple of things and followed his friend inside, grin growing bigger because he had won for once.

The room wasn't really that big and didn't really have much in it, but it sure as hell looked like a five star hotel room compared to what Connor was used to from the prison and his life back in Boston and Ireland. He took a look around the room and noticed all the little pointless things that were still inside, mostly clothes from the two men that had used to live here. The men they had killed. Connor didn't really feel anything about that except for the slight annoyance about the fact that they had to get rid of all that stuff now.

Daryl threw the bag on the bed and had a look around as well.

"So what, we gotta share rooms again?" he said and his voice still lacked the strength, and right now he even seemed too tired to really attempt to fire the usual strings of insults and mockings at Connor.

The Irishman shrugged and had a look outside the window.
He could see the rest of their group downstairs, and it looked like some of them were heading for the house right across the street.

"Looks like it. Town's not exactly that big. And I ain't really interested in having anyone sleep alone here any time soon. Not with all these shady fucks out there. Two groups who used ta shoot each other living under the same roof all of a sudden? Gotta count on some attempted violence and murder shit. Better safe than sorry."

Daryl shrugged and searched his bag for his gun.

"Then why not move in one house altogether? Or even better, why move here in the first place?" he muttered and Connor watched him with another angry and worried frown.

"Remember what te fuckin prison looked like when we left? Overrun with walkers that was. And damaged."

"Didn't look any different when we got there the first time before y'all people fucked everything up while I was gone."

Connor let out an angry snort.

"Aye, and that was when he had more people with us and when half our people didn't get fuckin slaughtered, tortured and shredded. Looked in the mirror lately?"

Daryl just shrugged and didn't say anything to that.
Once he was done checking his bag he looked up and then pointed at the small couch opposite the old double bed.

"Yah gonna get your ass on that."

Connor looked at the couch and let out a gentle snort. The couch didn't exactly look that comfortable and it was way too small for him.

"The fuck 'm gonna do. You get your ass on there."

"Well I got shot yesterday" Daryl answered and played the sick card all of a sudden, which made Connor snort in protest.

"Fuck you, and I got bit and broke my own hand!"

Daryl raised an eyebrow.

" Yeah, so? Yah gonna be a sissy about it? Man up. Yah gonna take the couch. End of discussion. Princess."

Connor tried to hit his friend's shoulder, but Daryl dodged the attack just in time.

"Who's the sissy that wants ta sleep in a fucking double bed on their own just cos they got fuckin hurt by one tiny bullet? Princess yourself, princess" the Irishman growled but frowned when he noticed how his friend walked away.

"Hey, where you goin?"

Daryl opened the other door which seemed to lead to a tiny bathroom.

"I'm gonna take a piss, and after that 'm gonna go outside'n help Rick and the others" came the answer and the door swung closed before Connor got to say something.

For a moment the Irishman just stood there and stared at the door, ready to complain and tell Daryl to keep his ass in here. He turned his head for a moment when he heard some noise in the hallway, and just when he was about to finally say something he suddenly noticed the doorknob, and even more importantly: the keys there.

Connor looked back at the bathroom door where Daryl was still busy peeing or whatever he did in there, and then a mischievous grin broke through.

Oh he had a better idea.

The blonde MacManus made sure that he had everything he needed and then walked over to the door, took the key and walked outside. Daryl chose to exit the bathroom then but it was already too late. Connor grinned at him and slammed the door to their apartment shut, just in time to keep his friend from getting out. He used the key to lock the door and then the hammering and knocking started, which made Connor grin even more.

"What the hell? Open the door yah moron!" Daryl yelled from inside and his friend chuckled.

"Don't worry, brother. 'M gonna help the others fer you. Why don't you test te couch in the mean time. Looked pretty comfy."

"Connor, open the fuckin door!"

The older of the two friends was chuckling even more. He knew that he had done what he wanted: keep Daryl inside and force him to sleep and stay safe, but this very moment was too precious for him to let it go by like that.

"'m warning yah!" Daryl yelled and the door shook even more violently.

Connor grinned and patted the door as if he was patting his friend's shoulder through it.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. Listen t'Ma. You should lay low and rest fer a bit. Maybe draw some flowers on the wall" he went on as kind of payback for when Daryl had locked him in a cell just two days ago.

"Son of a bitch! 'm gonna kill yah if you don't let me outta here right fuckin now!" the hunter on the other side roared, to which his friend only replied with laughter.

"Sweet dreams, princess" Connor muttered but the raging on the other side of the door would not stop.

It worried Connor now because he knew that abrupt moving and excitement like that wasn't really good for a man who had almost died less than 24 hours ago.
He let out a tired sigh and stopped laughing then.

"'m serious, alright? You gotta fuckin rest, Daryl. 'm gonna go outside, help the others, and get someone up here so they can take a proper look at yer stitches and te blood thing."

"Screw you" came the answer with one final violent shake of the door, like Daryl had kicked it and given up.

Connor smirked and patted the door once more.

"Alright. Don't fuck yerself up even more you whiny baby. Gotta go now" he said and then finally left to get outside, to help the others and figure out how everything was supposed to work here in Woodbury.