SURPRISE BITCH. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ;)

Guess who's uploading another chapter after a record break of SIX MOTHER FUCKIN MONTHS.

Oops. GUILTYYYYYYY.

In all seriousness, I'd kind of like to start of with an apology of sorts. Usually it's just kinda 'fuCK U I'll updATE when i fukin feel like it ur not my real mUm!' But I kinda feel like I owe everybody an explanation of some sorts considering it's been, you know, over half a year.

Soooo I'll try to keep this brief and without going into too much detail since no one probably cares all that much; basically, I went through a period in my life a good few months back where I felt like everything was going wrong and I didn't have a good idea of where my life was heading and I guess that frightened and upset me a whole lot and as a result I ended up depressed for a little while. Things have since sorted themselves out, as they often do, and I'm perfectly ok now, but during that time I guess the last thing I wanted to do was write. I literally went through a good month or so without so much as picking up a pen. I just couldn't hack it u know? Which was pretty frustrating considering before all the things and stuff that happened I had already gotten a good three quarters or so through this chapter but once I hit that wall it took a while to get through it.

And then after all this time I DID kind of get in the mood to write again I was still kept busy with a lot of things so I didn't get all the time to write that I would have liked to.

Butt in any case. I've gotten through everything now and done what I thought would be impossible and FINALLLLLY managed to get my shit together and get out a new chapter.

Please excuse it if it's a lil bit shit. It's been a while and I kinda feel like I'm out of practise :P

enJOOOOOOyyyy

A look of disbelief mingled with confusion passed between the members of the group and Connor felt his heart sink a little.

"What did you just say? You're...his brother?" The man holding the gun repeated, incredulous.

Connor nodded.

"Daryl never said anything about having another brother." The Asian boy said.

"Think two Dixon's would've been enough..." The third man added.

"An' I don't know 'bout ya'll," Connor's gaze flickered to the skinhead on his brother's left who was holding him up and regarded him with suspicion, "but he sure don't look like Merle t'me..."

"Who t'fuck is Merle?" He demanded, feeling a flare of irritation.

"Uh..." The Asian boy shared a look of bewilderment with the others before gesturing to the comatose Murphy. "Merle's his brother."

"No he's not!" Connor protested. "I'm his brother."

"You sure 'bout that?" Skinhead said and Connor turned to face him, scowling. He couldn't understand the reason why, but he seemed to have developed an instant dislike to the man and he got an underlying impression the feeling was mutual.

"Listen, you fuc-"

He stopped just as suddenly as he had spoken when he heard an agonized groan from his twin, who was still being propped up by the other two and seemed alarmingly pale. Connor felt distraught at the sight of his brother's dirtied and bloodied face, and the fresh gunshot wound on his temple.

"Murph..." he said quietly.

The man with the gun seemed to take this as a sign to spring into action. Barely sparing a second glance at Connor, he turned to the others, his manner suddenly urgent.

"Whoever this man is, he's not important right now-" he paused, dismissing Connor's insulted look with a wave of his hand. "No offence. What matters is that we get Daryl to Herschel and he gets the attention he needs." He paused again, turning to the two other men in the group. "T-Dog, Glenn; you stay with him, we'll go on ahead." He glanced back at Connor, an unreadable expression on his face. "As for you, we'll talk later."

With that, he turned away and, with Skinhead's help, hauled Murphy across the field in the direction of the large white farmhouse over the crest of the hill. The apparent 'leader' of the group's declaration of 'We'll talk later' had left Connor feeling uneasy. He couldn't be sure why, but he wasn't exactly looking forward to the discussion. Especially if that Skinhead would be involved too. Which he guessed he might be. It seemed, to him at least, the two of them worked together as some kind of unit. There was a sound understanding there, similar to what he and Murphy had...

As his thoughts turned to his brother he found his gaze being drawn to his receding figure as he was led away by the other two. He yearned to follow after him but as he moved to take a step, his legs seemed to suddenly turn to water and he stumbled down on to one knee, hit with a wave of dizziness as the world spun dangerously around him. He swore to himself, struggling to stay conscious. He jumped when he abruptly felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to see the two remaining members of the group looking down at him, vaguely concerned.

"Uh...are...you, ok?" The Asian boy asked. Connor hesitated, pondering the question for a moment.

"Not really..." he admitted.

"You don't look so good." The other man informed him. "You ain't been bit have you?"

Connor managed a short laugh, despite himself. "You people...yer so accommodating." He joked. "I've barely even been here five minutes an' I've had a fuckin' gun pointed in my face and been told I look like shit. An' no-" he added, "M'not bitten. Just...been having a hard time."

"You gonna be ok to walk? I mean, I don't wanna rush you or anything, but we're kinda out in the open here. And I'd really rather be back with the others if any real walkers show up."

"Aye, message received." Connor said a little huffily. "Jus' gimme a second."

It took a vast amount of effort and what little strength he had left but Connor was able to successfully get back on his feet, with a little support from the other two. He groaned inwardly when he saw the distance from the house they were and for a moment genuinely doubted that he'd manage to walk that far.

"So how'd you get all the way out here?" The Asian boy asked, bringing him abruptly out of his thoughts. He blinked at him, puzzled.

"Huh?"

"Well, you don't exactly...sound local, if y'know what I mean?"

Connor stopped at that. "Y'tryna say somethin' about m'accent?"

"No. I- course not." He stammered, alarmed at his change of tone. "I just meant that...well, all our people are from Georgia. We haven't really came across someone from further out and I was wondering...y'know, if the situation you came from was any better than us."

"We're just curious." The other man pitched in. "We don't come across a lot of people nowadays." He paused. "Livin' people, anyway."

"Aye. Well, y'were right about one thing. M'not from down here."

"Then where are you from?"

Connor hesitated, knowing he'd have to be careful about how much he told them, considering his situation before the world had went to hell. He was pretty certain that sharing his story about his exploits with his brother as violent vigilantes wouldn't sit very well with his new 'friends.'

"I...lived in Boston, for the past couple years."

"No way? Boston?" The Asian boy said, aghast. "That far north?"

"Aye."

"What did you come all the way down here for?"

"Heard stories on the radio. 'Bout some kinda safe zone or something?"

"Oh, yeah. Back in the early days. Heard a lot about that stuff too." The boy said. "Probably better you didn't go. Atlanta went to hell pretty damn quickly..."

"So I heard." Connor agreed.

"I'm guessing ya'll weren't doin' too good up there, either?" The other man said. "F'you left?"

Connor vaguely remembered flashes of gunfire in the streets, a sobbing woman clutching her dying child in her arms and an exodus of frightened strangers trapped in a line of cars a mile lone, waiting for rescue that never came.

"No. Boston wasn't too good." Connor said quietly. "Though, t'be honest, I don't think anywhere's doin' too well-"

"Oh my God!" He trailed off at the sound of shrill voice crying out. As he glanced ahead, he noticed they'd almost drawn level with Murphy and the other two men. He was surprised to see others had joined them; a pretty blonde woman who had an anxious expression on her face and an elderly man wearing a fisherman's hat and a beard that took up about a third of his face. The woman seemed close to tears as she caught sight of Murphy's face.

"Is...Is he dead?"

"No, not dead." The leader reassured her. "Unconscious. You just grazed him."

"Oh God..." she said again, covering her mouth with her hand. The elderly man hadn't spoken yet, instead he observed the group with silent concern; first Murphy and the two holding him up, then the two accompanying Connor, before his gaze finally fell on the McManus himself and he stopped, his concern quickly turning to suspicion.

"Now, hold on just a second." He gestured to Connor, "Who's this?"

"He followed Daryl back." Skinhead informed him brashly. "Ain't got no idea who he is or where he came from; just popped up outta nowhere-"

"Never mind that now." His friend cut him off, craning his neck as if looking for something. They were much closer now to the house now and Connor was able to make out some more details of the property. Further off to the right of the white house, a large wooden barn loomed in the distance; something he hadn't noticed before that confirmed his first assumption that this was a farm of some kind. To the left, in the dirt track that surrounded the house a campsite of sorts had been set up with seven or eight tents amongst the sparsely planted trees lining the driveway. A large RV was also parked a little ways down the road, strangely with an umbrella and what appeared to be a lawn chair up on it's roof.

"What an earth is going on out here?!" A new voice caught the attention of the McManus twin. The group of around five or six that were heading down the dirt track towards them were apparently led by another more elderly man who appeared rather fractious. It all seemed rather strange to Connor; he'd spent so many days completely on his own without even his twin for company and even before then he'd been beginning to wonder whether there would be any living people left alive at all now. And now in the space of less than a full day he'd come across a larger number of survivors than he had seen since this whole nightmare had begun. It was almost overwhelming.

"Herschel!" The group leader called out. "We need help, now!" He turned to his skinhead friend, urging him on with a gruff "C'mon!" And then the two of them were off again, practically having to drag Murphy's dead weight across the remainder of the field. Connor turned to go after them, not wanting to lose sight of his twin, after he had just found him again, but he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a firm hand on his arm. He jumped, startled, and glanced round to see the elderly man from before staring at him. The blonde woman stood beside him, just at his elbow.

"You ok, son?" he asked him, the concern in his voice evident. "You don't look so good..."

Connor shrugged his hand off. "M'fine." He said dismissively. "Really. I've just...had a rough couple 'f days..."

"Not to be rude or anything, but...who are you, exactly?" The blonde woman asked. At Connor's look of apprehension she added hastily, "It's just...you kinda look familiar. Have we met before?"

"Uh..." Connor hesitated, momentarily thrown by her statement. What could she have meant by that? He had a sudden sinking feeling that perhaps the reason she recognised him might be related to his past occupation...

"My-M'name's Connor." He threw over his shoulder as he hurriedly backed away, intending to follow after his twin. "I'm Murphy's brother." He added as he turned away, eager to catch up to the others. He wasn't quite fast enough to get out of earshot of the pair; just managing to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"...I'm sorry, am I missing something? Who the hell's Murphy?" He heard the blonde woman ask.

The remark almost made him stop in his tracks. He wondered briefly about turning back and trying to get some kind of an explanation out of them but decided against it. His main priority right now was Murphy; he had to make sure he was alright. He hurried after the receding figures heading towards the farmhouse but he had barely taken ten steps when he abruptly hit a wall. There was a sudden shrill ringing in his ears and he stumbled to a stop, as everything started spinning nauseatingly. He shook his head, trying to dispel the black dots that danced in front of his eyes. The ringing grew steadily shriller and louder until he could barely hear anything over it, aside from the frantic thumping of his own heartbeat.

Obviously the last few days of running around through the woods with no food and such little sleep had taken their toll on him. After the abrupt adrenaline rush he was now running on empty and he knew it. He tottered unsteadily on his feet for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to regain his balance. Then, without any warning, his legs suddenly buckled, he pitched forward and in the next instant the ground seemed to open up and swallow him whole.

When Connor next came to, he was surprised to see he was no longer outside in the wide open field he remembered. Glancing around, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. Instead of the dull grey sky above his head, there was a white painted ceiling. He hauled himself up into a sitting position and immediately regretted doing so when the room began to spin around him again. He groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"I'd take it easy, 'f I were you."

He jumped at the sound of a new voice from somewhere behind him and twisted round to see a young woman watching him from the doorway. She couldn't have been any older than twenty five or so, at his guess. She had short, chin length brown hair that framed a pretty face and wide dark eyes that were narrowed slightly in scrutiny. He glanced around the unfamiliar room, giving it the once-over.

"How long have I been out for?" He asked hesitantly. The woman shrugged.

"Not that long. Maybe ten minutes at most. Caused a bit of a stir out there. I saw it from the window; you just keeled over out of nowhere. Gave the others a real fright."

He managed a slight smile. "Aye, well...not surprised. Haven't slept in 'bout four days or so. I've been running on empty."

She nodded. "Sure looks like it. Dad said you looked like you might be suffering from dehydration. Which reminds me-" She disappeared from view for a moment and he heard the sound of running water from the next room. Then she reappeared again, holding a glass of water carefully as she crossed over to him. "-Here. You're gonna want to drink something; might help to clear your head a little."

With a grateful look and a mutter of thanks he grabbed the glass from her eagerly and he began gulping it down in a hurry. Her eyes widened in alarm and she reached over to stop him.

"Whoa! Take it easy there! You take too much too fast, you're gonna end up throwing it up again."

"I'll risk it." Connor replied, between swigs. She raised an eyebrow.

"Not in my damn front room, you won't!"

He paused, suddenly looking guilty. "Sorry."

The girl shook her head at him. "It's fine. I'd just prefer you didn't start upchuckin' all over the furniture. That's my Dad's favourite couch your sittin' on after all." She eyed him for a moment. "You act like you've been starved or somethin'."

"S'pose I have..." Connor said, after finishing off his glass and setting it down carefully on the table with a slightly shaking hand. "Haven't had anythin' t'eat in about four days."

She seemed alarmed, to say in the least. "Four days?"

"Aye."

"Well in that case," she picked up his empty glass, "You want me t'get you somethin' to eat with your next top up?"

He grinned at her. "Yes please!"

Connor sat at the spacious kitchen table, chomping his way through his second ham sandwich. The meat wasn't exactly fresh and the bread was more than a little bit stale but he couldn't have cared less. He'd been told off by the girl (who'd introduced herself as Maggie) for polishing off his first sandwich in little under a minute; an impressive feat, he'd thought. Maggie herself wasn't as impressed and had again scorned him for eating too fast. She'd even gone as far as to threaten him with cleaning the entire kitchen floor with a toothbrush if he dared to throw his food back up again. Luckily, Connor wasn't feeling the least bit sick. Quite the opposite. He was pretty sure he'd never felt better. He would have relayed this information to Maggie to ease her worries about him vomiting all over her kitchen, but she'd been called to another room.

Left on his own to sit for a while, Connor's thoughts turned, as they often did, to his twin. He hadn't seen him since he'd passed out, although he admittedly wasn't as worried as before, since he knew someone was looking out for him at least. He would've still preferred to be able to see him though; just to reassure himself that he really was ok. He had heard faint murmurings from around other areas of the house but didn't think it was his place to go poking around in a stranger's home. He wondered about what this group of people he'd run into would be like, and why Murphy was with them and why everything was so fucking confusing. He was brought abruptly out of his thoughts by the sound of a door slamming and loud voices from somewhere down the hallway and in the next moment the door to the kitchen suddenly flew open and a small group of women wandered into the room; so caught up in their discussion that for a moment they didn't even notice Connor sitting at the table. He probably would have preferred it that way since when they did notice him there was a significant lull in their conversation and an awkward hush fell over the room as they all fell silent, almost simultaneously. Feeling uncomfortable at the attention he was receiving, he finished the mouthful of food he was eating and gave them a meagre attempt of a smile.

"Uh...hello." he said politely.

The women exchanged a brief glance amongst themselves before one of them stepped forward, returning his smile with her own. She looked to be around her early thirties with long brown hair and dark eyes which seemed to brighten with curiosity as she looked at him.

"Hi!" she replied pleasantly. "Um," she turned to her friends for a moment, as if consulting them silently before facing him again, "Pardon me, if I'm being a bit rude, but who are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all. M'name's Connor." He said. The older McManus had noticed that although the women didn't seem to be as mistrustful of him as the others, there was still a noticeable sense of tension in the air. To be fair, he couldn't exactly blame them. Since the end of the world, things had changed a hell of a lot. He himself would've been sceptical of a stranger appearing in his own home even before the end of the world. With the state of the world as it was now, it understandably made it a hell of a lot harder to trust people.

The brunette watched him for a moment longer then turned to the woman on her left; a curly headed blonde. "Am I wrong in assuming he's one of your group? He's not some relation of you or Herschel's by any chance?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not likely. I ain't seen this one before." She had a noticeable southern twang to her voice, much like the other girl Maggie also had. "Although," the woman took a step closer to him, scrutinising. "You do look kinda familiar. We ain't met before, have we?"

Connor shook his head quickly. He had an uneasy feeling that the reason he might be recognised was from days as a vigilante. But then he was all too aware that announcing himself as a serial killer wasn't exactly a great way to make a good first impression so he just kept quiet, feigning ignorance. Seemingly taking his silence as a sign of discomfort, the third woman cleared her throat, speaking up for the first time.

"Well, I think it's nice to see a new face around here." She said. Connor leaned over slightly in his seat to get a better look at her. She seemed somewhat more reserved than the others; more quiet. She had short, greying hair cropped close to her head and bright blue eyes.

"I suppose it is. Some change might do us some good." The brunette agreed, adding "I'm Lori, by the way. This is Carol." She gestured to the short-haired who smiled politely, "And this is-"

"Patricia." The blonde woman said, nodding at him.

"Nice t'meet you." Connor said.

"Hope you don't mind me askin' but where exactly is it your from? You don't exactly sound like your from around these parts." Patricia asked.

"M'not. I'm from Ireland." He explained.

"Ireland?" She sounded shocked. "How in God's name did you end up in Georgia?"

"Oh, no. S'not like that. I didn't come here all the way from Ireland. I live in Boston." He paused. "Lived." He corrected himself. "I haven't been to Ireland for a long time now..." He abruptly trailed off, noticing for the first time a large imposing figure that had appeared in the doorway, hovering behind the group of women. Seemingly noticing Connor's sudden discomfort, Lori glanced over her shoulder, jumping in fright when she spotted the other man.

"Jesus, Shane!" she exclaimed, a hint of indignation in her voice. "You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry 'bout that, Lori." He took a step into the light from the kitchen window and Connor quickly recognised him as the skinhead from before. His gaze flickered over each of the women in turn.

"Afternoon, ladies. What're ya'll doin' in here?" As he spoke his gaze seemed to shift over to Connor and he couldn't help but feel like the question was somehow directed at him.

"We're just making preparations for dinner." Carol said. "We thought it'd be a nice thank you to Herschel and his family for helping us out these past few days."

At the mention of more food, Connor perked up considerably.

"Dinner?" he said with a grin. "Sign me up for that shit!"

"No way; I don't think so! You've already eaten more than your share!" He glanced over his shoulder to see Maggie, the girl from before, shuffling into the room from another doorway, clutching a number of pots and pans to her chest. Connor made to get up and offer her help, but she waved him off, reaching the countertops on the opposite side of the room in a few strides and dropping the kitchen implements in the sink with an almighty clatter. She turned to Patricia, shaking out her arms.

"You know that one-" se gestured to Connor, "Just ate his way through our last loaf of bread. In record time too!"

"What?" The blonde looked appalled. "Our last loaf?"

"In my defence," Connor piped up, "I haven't eaten anything in about four days."

"Really? Four days?" Lori sounded shocked. "My God, how're you still standing?"

Connor shrugged, nonchalantly. "What can I say? I'm a machine." He winked.

She laughed lightly at that and Connor almost felt more relaxed at having broken the ice a little. His good feeling instantly evaporated as the skinhead-Shane- suddenly stepped forward further into the room, his expression growing sterner as his gaze fell on Connor.

"If ya'll don't mind, I'd like to have a word with you. In the other room."

Connor suddenly felt chilled, although he wasn't entirely sure why. He tried to keep his gaze level as he stared back. Something about the other man set him on edge; though he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why. Lori's gaze flickered from him to Shane and back and she frowned.

"Why can't you just talk in here?" she asked. "We wouldn't mind, would we girls?"

The other women nodded their approval but Shane shook his head. "Nah, nah. We wouldn't want to distract ya'll while your busy with dinner. We'll just get outta your hair." He turned to Connor and jerked his head to the side in an impatient gesture. "C'mon. We'll talk through in the dining room."

With a growing sense of uneasy Connor got up from the table, scowling at the man. He was irritated by the way that he spoke to him, almost as if he was beneath him or some misbehaving child rather than another grown man. He got some inkling that, before the whole thing happening with the world ending, he might have been something of an authority figure. He sighed inwardly, nodding a goodbye to the women before he followed the other man out of the kitchen and into the adjoining dining room. The man who had held a gun to his head only minutes before was standing before the arched windows facing the front yard of the house. Next to him was an elderly man with the weathered face and worn expression of a farmer. The two were deep in conversation about something but fell quiet when they noticed Connor.

"Who's this?" The older man asked. "One of your group, I presume?"

"No, we don't know him. He was with Daryl when we found him." The other man replied.

The older man glanced fleetingly at Connor, sighing. "You're not looking very well. Don't suppose you have any injuries you want me to look at? Aside from the one on your head." He frowned. "How did that happen?"

"My head...?" Connor tentatively felt his forehead, wincing at the dull flicker of pain when he brushed the still-healing gash on the side of his head. He vaguely remembered hitting it off a rock. "Uh, yeah. I fell..."

"You ain't been bit though, right?" Shane asked, rather forcefully.

"No." Connor said, exasperated at being asked the same question time and time again. He glanced up to see the older man was watching him cautiously but he quickly looked away again.

"Well, since you seem alright I don't believe I'm needed here." He announced. "If you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with my daughter." He turned and made his way to the kitchen, laughter from the women flooding through into the room as he opened the door. In the next instant the noise was cut off as the door was slammed shut behind him. Connor stood still for a moment then jumped, turning as one of the men cleared his throat.

"You wanna take a seat?" Skinhead's friend asked, gesturing to the table. Connor glowered at him, remaining standing out of pure stubbornness.

"I wanna see m'brother." He said simply.

"Not right now."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"He's...resting."

"Is he..." Connor hesitated. "I mean, is he alright?"

"He's just fine. You can see him afterwards, if you want. But...thing is-"

"We wanna talk first." Skinhead interrupted, folding his arms as he regarded the McManus brother with poorly guarded disdain. Connor scowled back at him.

"Talk? 'Bout what?"

He shrugged. "M'sure you're aware of how much the situation's changed since the world's gone t'shit. Dangerous times we're livin' in now. Ain't like it was before; you can't trust just anyone." He paused, stealing a glance at Connor again, gauging his reaction carefully. Connor tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

"An' you can't trust me." Connor stated.

"Well we don't know you, do we? You could be just about anyone."

"So what? Yer just gonna send me away?" Connor began to get irate. "M'not going anywhere without m'brother."

The other man spoke up at that, raising his hand in a placating manner. "No one is sending you off anywhere." He said reassuringly, sending a discreet but meaningful look in his friend's direction. "Believe me, it's a relief more than anything to see another living person. Doesn't hurt to show a little caution. I mean, we don't even know your name, for one thing."

Connor scoffed. "Don't know yours either. How do I know I can trust any of you?"

The man smiled faintly at that. "S'pose you have reason for your own doubts." He paused. "Name's Rick. Rick Grimes." He gestured to the skinhead. "This here's Shane."

Connor nodded. "M'Connor."

"Just Connor?"

"Aye."

'Shane' frowned suspiciously. "No second name?"

"D'you need one?" Connor shot back.

"Alright that 's enough." Rick interjected. "We don't need a second name; you've made your introduction, that's fine. I need to know where exactly it is you're coming from."

"Sure don't sound like you're from Atlanta." Shane commented.

"S'cause m'not. I'm from Boston."

"Boston?" Rick seemed more than a little taken aback.

"S'pretty far north." Shane said.

"What made you come all the way down here?"

Connor shrugged. "Heard there was a place for us. Refugee camp or...somethin' about some kinda safe zone? Turned out to be a dead end..."

"Hold on a second," Shane suddenly straightened up, looking a little more attentive. "You sayin' you were heading for Atlanta?"

"Aye..."

Shane paused for a moment, thinking something over. "I'm sure...I remember something," he turned suddenly, addressing Rick. "Before you came back from Atlanta, we got in contact with someone over the radio. Pretty sure he said his name was Connor too." He looked at Connor again. "Don't suppose you remember that?"

Connor cast his mind back, remembering the police car he and his twin had found by the side of the road while lost in the Georgian countryside; the first signs of life they had come across since leaving Boston had bee the cryptic voices on the other side of the car's radio.

"The cop on the radio..." he said slowly. "That was you?"

Shane grinned. "Well, well...it's nice t'be able to put a name to the face."

The other man, Rick, looked perplexed. "What d'you mean? You contacted him on the radio? When was this?"

"I told you; right before you came back."

"And you never thought to tell me?"

Shane struggled to maintain his composure. "Well, I mean...Guess I meant to, s'just...with everything that happened afterwards..." He trailed off and something seemed to pass between the two men before he hurried on rashly. "Just kinda...slipped my mind, s'pose. It happens." He turned to Connor, seemingly eager to change the subject. "'F I can be frank for a second, I'd like to hear more about this whole situation with your brother. Mean, I just find it kinda weird that you keep on insisting that Daryl's your brother, yet he doesn't seem to know who you are."

"Who t'fuck's Daryl?" Connor blurted out. "M'brother's Murphy."

Rick paused. "Right. And...you're sure the man you were following, the one who got shot, that he's your brother?"

"Aye. That's right."

"But...his name's not Murphy. He's Daryl. Daryl Dixon. We haven't even heard of anyone called Murphy."

Connor stared at him for a long moment, before he began shaking his head. "You're wrong. M'not gonna mistake my own brother. I know it's him."

"Well, regardless if you know him or not, he ain't ever mentioned you." Shane said bluntly.

Connor fell silent, his head spinning. How could Murphy not have told them about his own brother?

Unless of course he wasn't actually Murphy.

But that couldn't be right either. What they were saying couldn't be true. The man he'd seen had to be his twin. He couldn't possibly be anyone else. Definitely not this Daryl Dixon the others kept talking about.

Could it?

It was totally impossible and he knew it. It could never have been anyone else. But despite that, he couldn't ignore the feeling of doubt in the back of his mind.

In any case he had to make sure.

"Let me see him." He said forcefully. "I wanna see m'brother."

The two men shared a meaningful look.

"I don't know about that..." Shane started to say, but Connor cut him off.

"Please." He pleaded. "I need t'see him. Just t'make sure he's alright."

After a moment, Rick sighed heavily. "I really don't think he is who you seem to think he is." He said tentatively. "But maybe you'll realise that on your own if you get to talk to him. I'll have a word with Herschel, see how he's doing."

He nodded to Shane then turned and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him and leaving Connor alone. He sighed and took a seat at the table again, ignoring the look Shane gave him. He couldn't understand what all the secrecy was about; all the underlying hostility directed towards him. He hadn't done anything wrong.

A little over a minute of awkward silence later, Connor heard the sound of hushed voices and Rick reappeared with the older man from before.

"He's lucky the hit wasn't any closer. Could have possibly fractured his skull, maybe even caused brain damage-" The grey-haired man. He stopped short, pausing in the doorway with Rick by his side. He glanced at Connor and then Shane, his expression unreadable.

"Oh. Hello again." He nodded at Shane, then turned to regard Connor. "Rick said you're..." he paused. "a friend of Daryl's? Somethin' like that?"

Connor frowned. "No, he's m'brother. And his name's Murphy. Is he alright?"

The older man glanced sidelong at him, his expression puzzled. He turned to Rick and Shane.

"Who on earth's Murphy?"

But Connor barely even heard him. He was already out the door and along the corridor before anyone could stop him. It took him a few tries before he could find the right door and he abruptly stumbled into a large, though sparsely furnished bedroom. Lying on his side on the double bed, holding a sodden rag to his still bleeding head, was Murphy. He flinched, startled by Connor abruptly stumbling into the room.

"Murph!" Connor crowed, overjoyed and relieved to see his brother was alright. Unfortunately his twin didn't seem as happy to see him judging by the scowl on his face.

"Not you again?" he sneered. "Surprised they ain't thrown you out on your ass yet."

Connor was again taken aback by his hostility towards him but bit back on his retort, deciding against causing more trouble than he already had. He tried to feign nonchalance; acting like he hadn't heard him.

"Are y'alright Murph? They said you'd been shot or something." He choked out a laugh. "For a second I-I thought you'd..." He hesitated trailing off; not wanting to speak aloud what he'd been so afraid off. He suddenly became aware that there were other people in the room and half-turned to see Shane and Rick standing just in the doorway, watching him curiously. Murphy, turned his head in the direction of the pair, focusing his attention solely on them.

"What the hell'd you let him in here for?" he demanded. "This freak's bad news; m'telling you."

Connor involuntarily flinched at his harsh tone; unable to help himself.

"You know this guy's been pretty insistent that your his brother." Shane announced. "S'that true?"

Murphy snorted. "You bein' fuckin' serious? C'mon man. I ain't never seen this guy before in my life."

"That right?" Shane turned his sceptical gaze on Connor, who ground his teeth in anger, suddenly infuriated by the cynical look the other man was giving him. From behind him he heard Murphy talking again.

"What'd I tell you?" he said snidely. "Crazy."

"M'not crazy." Connor snarled through gritted teeth, silencing him. The other two seemed to freeze in place and the older McManus could've sworn he saw the skinhead's hand twitch towards the pistol holstered at his side. After a moment of silence, Rick took a careful step forward.

"Look," he began cautiously, "We're not trying to cause an argument here. The last thing we want...any of us want, is to start a fight with you. I can understand you've had a tough time; being out on your own; I get that. We would be prepared to offer you a place here, with all of us-" Connor distinctly heard Murphy snort derisively in the background, but if Rick heard he chose to ignore it, "But if you want to stay you're gonna have to behave yourself. This ain't our house and we're guests here ourselves so we can't afford to have you causing trouble, you understand?"

Connor stared back at him for a long moment before he dropped his gaze to the floor. His hands were clenched into trembling fists; the Veritas tattoo standing out more prominently against his papery skin. Just seeing the mark on his hand was enough to bring him a vague sense of comfort. He took a deep breath to steady himself and glanced up, looking past Rick and Shane to Murphy who was no longer paying attention to the conversation going on between the others and was instead staring at the opposite wall, scratching his neck absentmindedly.

And that's when he saw it.

The hand that rested on his brother's shoulder was completely bare. There was no sign of the Aequitas tattoo and Connor could feel his heart sink as his gaze shifted to his twin's neck which was also devoid of any tattoo.

That wasn't right. That couldn't be right. They'd gotten the tattoos together and even though it had been a good few years ago now, he could still remember it almost as if it was just yesterday. The tattoo's were permanent marks; they couldn't have been wiped off just like that. Yet the more he looked, the apparent it was that the tattoo's just weren't there anymore. But that didn't make any sense.

Unless...

Unless everything he'd been told was actually true. Unless this man who looked so much like Murphy, practically identical to his twin, in fact, wasn't actually his brother at all. But that was even more impossible to comprehend.

Connor stared, horror-struck, at the stranger with his brother's face glowering at him from across the room. He hadn't even realized he'd stumbled and started to fall until he felt a steadying hand on his shoulder holding him up and he flinched; glancing up to see Rick looking at him, all concerned.

"You should sit down." He said. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"M'fine..." Connor said, his voice faint as the edges of his vision started to go black and the ringing in his ears returned, shriller than ever.

"Sit your ass down, 'fore you fall down." Shane told him, forcefully shoving him in the direction of the seat next to him. Connor half collapsed into it, not even having enough energy to argue anymore. He fell on to his side, screwing his eyes shut as the room started to spin around him; having to fight back the sudden urge to throw up. The roaring in his ears had suddenly gotten so loud he could scarcely hear the conversation going on just a few feet from him.

"...We've already had to deal with a lot today; there's no reason to drag this out anymore than we have to. We can just leave him for now, talk about this morning." Rick was saying.

"You really sure that's a good idea?" Shane asked sceptically, frowning. "We don't even know who this guy is. Mean, I ain't one to judge to harshly but...something 'bout him just don't sit right with me."

Rick shrugged, scratching at his head absentmindedly as he glanced sidelong at Connor who had remained auspiciously quiet despite their discussion of him. It was immediately clear why. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy; it had probably taken him little under a minute to fall asleep and now he was completely dead to the world.

"Doubt he's going to do much now anyway," Rick said. "He's out cold."

Shane glanced over his shoulder at the comatose Connor. "That was fast." He commented.

The two men fell into an uneasy silence, each lost in their thoughts; the quiet only broken by the sudden clatter of dishes and a short burst of subdued laughter from the direction of the kitchen. Rick glanced in the direction of the doorway, distractedly.

"Sounds like dinner might be ready soon." He said. Shane grunted in response and turned to Daryl who had seemingly lost interest in the conversation and was examining the stitches in his side. Rick cleared his throat to get his attention and he glanced up, startled.

"We'll leave you to get some rest. After the day you've had, you deserve it."

Daryl's gaze flickered over to Connor. "What 'bout him?"

"What about him?"

"You're just gonna leave him there?"

"Well we ain't gonna move him." Shane said.

Daryl frowned. "Why not?"

"It'd be better if you just left him." Rick suggested. "He clearly needs his rest. For that matter, so do you. You've been through a hell 'f a lot today." He crossed the room to the door, pausing only for a moment. "I'll get someone to bring you something to eat in a while, once you've rested up."

"Hol' on-" Daryl started to say but before he had time to protest the pair had already left the room. He huffed, stealing another glance at Connor who was still passed out sprawling on the sofa across the room. He still had no idea who the guy was or why he kept insisting that he was his brother, but one thing was for sure: the guy was bad news. He was willing to bet on it.

He scowled at the thought and rolled over, stubbornly turning his back on the stranger and allowed his mind to drift.

He had been so preoccupied with thinking over what had happened during the day, Daryl thought sleeping would have been impossible. His exhaustion had undoubtedly caught up to him at some point and caused him to drift off unaware as the next thing he knew he was woken up by the sound of the door opening behind him. He opened his eyes, blinking in the soft light from the lamp on the table behind him. Some time must have passed by as the sky outside the window had now gone completely dark. He turned himself over, careful not to disturb his stitches, to see Carol standing in the doorway clutching a tray of food in front of her. He hurried to cover himself with the blanket.

"How're you feeling?" she asked kindly.

He scoffed. "'Bout as good as I look."

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then set the tray down on the side table with a small sigh.

"Brought you some dinner. You must be starvin'" She glanced over her shoulder at Connor who hadn't stirred since she came in. "Got somethin' laid aside for him too, but I guess he ain't up to much right now."

Daryl stole another glance over his shoulder at the stranger sprawled out on the sofa. He didn't understand the point of giving the freak food. There wasn't any point in giving him the false impression he would be staying for very long. Which he wouldn't be. Not if he had anything to do with it. If it was up to him he wouldn't have even given him a place to sleep for the night. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they got shot of him, the better.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked, and when he turned to look at her she was watching him apprehensively. His disdain for the stranger must have shown.

"S'nothin'." He replied gruffly. "Jus' don't think it's a good idea to be taking people in we don't know."

"Herschel took us in." She pointed out. "He didn't know any of us."

"Yeah, but then his guy shot Carl. He kinda owed it to us." Connor suddenly shifted and mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep. The two froze, waiting, but he didn't stir again. Daryl hesitated a few seconds before continuing, lowering his voice.

"Somethin' with 'im don't sit right with me. He ain't right in the head. Keeps thinkin'..." He paused.

Carol waited. "What?" she prompted.

He shrugged, wincing at the pain in his side. "Dunno. He thinks...I'm 'is brother or some dumb shit like that."

"He's been having a hard time." Carol said gently. "We don't know what he's been through. They said he was on his own, or at least that's what the others think. Maybe he just followed you because he didn't want to be on his own anymore? It can't be easy...being out there all alone..." Something caught in her voice, just for a moment, and Daryl felt a pang in his chest, knowing she was probably thinking of her little girl again.

There was a pause and she cleared her throat, continuing on. "'Maybe he'll be useful. He might end up being a good addition to our lil group. He might turn out to be helpful, who knows?" She said hopefully.

Daryl just grunted in answer. It was pretty clear to him what she meant. And though he wouldn't want to say it out loud, he was pretty adamant that Connor wasn't going to be any help in finding Sophia. He doubted he'd even care about the missing little girl.

The room descended into an perturbed silence. For a moment he even thought Carol might have just left the room without saying anything, she was so quiet. But then she'd taken a deep breath as if steeling herself for something.

"You need to know somethin'." She said quietly. "You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life."

Daryl said nothing for a moment, stricken by what she'd told him. "I didn't do anything Rick or Shane wouldn't have done." He said hurriedly.

"I know." She agreed, smiling slightly. "You're every bit as good as them. Every bit." There was a sudden catch in her voice as she finished, as if she was about to start crying. Daryl was stricken by the show of emotion towards him. He felt as though he should say something, anything to her but words seemed to evade him. Too unsure of how to respond, he simply chose to remain silent. She didn't seem to expect a response though. She simply shot him a small, sad smile and left the room and he turned around again to face the wall, left alone with his thoughts.

BooMMM bitches. That's yer lot m'afraid. Again sorry it took me half a fucking year, but at least it was a relatively long chapter (over 7,000 words I believe) so I'm hoping that'll make up for it at least somewhat. I'd also like to just say thanks to everyone who's still following this pile of clusterfuck and I thought it was just really cool that even though I haven't updated in forever you guys were still reviewing and following and everything. The feedback I've been getting has been immense and it makes my day to see that you guys are enjoying reading this

So thanks for over 200 reviews. Thanks for reading and being totally rad people :) u guys rock my socks off xxxx

Till next time 3