Chapter Text
When Rick stepped into the common room for cell block C, he expected it to be crawling with walkers like everyplace else has been.
But it was empty.
He signaled Daryl to stay on his six as he walked quietly to the door to the cells and slipped the stolen key into the lock, opening it with a loud click.
“Hey!” hissed a voice, hidden from view. “I know you’re human. It’s clear in here. Don’t shoot.” As he spoke, Rick was able to make out a distinct Irish accent.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
The voice came again, this time traceable to a cell on the far end of the room. “If you want to shoot unarmed men who know where to find everything here, than no reason at all. Morality, maybe?”
Rick stopped in front of the occupied cell. Inside were two men. A blond was standing at the bars while a smaller man was curled up against the wall. Both looked like they had been in the ring for a few too many rounds.
“I doubt you’ve been locked in there for ten months,” Rick said, “which mean ya have a group. Where are they?”
“Dead, hopefully,” the smaller one said.
“Shut up,” the first one snapped, followed by something in a language Rick didn’t recognize. “He is right. Just shouldn’t’a said it. Disrespectin’ the probably dead and all that. But since they locked us in here three days ago and haven’t come back...gotta assume.”
Rick studied them. “And why exactly did they lock ya up?” he asked suspiciously.
The first man hesitated, then spoke to the other before switching back to English. “Michel tried to...let’s say ‘get handsy’ with Murphy here. We fought back, but then Will jumped in and even together we can’t take him.”
“We ain’t pussies!” Murphy said sharply.
“Guy is the size ‘o tha two of us combined. We lost, got thrown in here, and they left, saying they’d be back that night.” The man shrugged.
Rick stared for a moment before asking “So there was four of you?”
“Four left,” Murphy corrected.
“Started with eight. One guard, three inmates, our FBI agent, and a priest.” With that both made the sign of the cross. “Listen, we’ve been in here awhile without food or water. So, can you just hand us a bottle before you do whatever you plan ta do? It’s in the cell to tha right.”
“And aspirin,” Murphy added.
Rick nodded at Daryl who grabbed the items and threw them through the bars.
“So,” the still unnamed man said once he drank half the bottle, passing the rest to Murphy. “You got two unarmed men, injured, who may or may not be inmates. What do you plan ta do?”
Daryl lifted his crossbow, making his current opinion clear. RIck motioned for him to stand down. “We have women and children. We can’t just keep you here. So we’ll either kill you, or leave you outside the gates.”
Murphy jumped to his feet, falling against the wall, but snapping nonetheless. “You really that much of a bastard?”
“Murphy!”
Murphy glared. “No, Connor. We worked hard ta clear this place out and they just wanna kick us out after talking to us for five minutes! That’s bullshit!”
“My brother is right,” Connor said, much calmer. “Stealin’ from those in need is a serious sin.”
“We’re doing what we need to to survive,” Rick replied.
“Aye, as are we. I suppose our difference is we would rather share what little we have than leave others in need.” Connor sat heavily on the bunk. “We would be more than happy to share our space and food with your group, but killing us…” he shook his head, “that would be a heavy sin to carry.”
“I need to protect my family,” Rick growled.
“You’d have two more people to do that.”
“What’d’ya do?” All of them turned to Daryl, surprised at his sudden input. .
Connor turned to his brother and the two had a short but emotional conversation neither Rick nor Daryl had any chance of understanding.
“Alright,” Connor finally said. “We’ve agreed, all cards on tha table.” He took a deep breath. “Muph and I here killed a buncha mafia guys back in Boston. Only dangerous people. Never killed an innocent person in our lives.”
“We would shoot each other if we ever did…” Murphy said, surprisingly soft as he sat back down.
“Aye. And we mean that literally. Evil men only.”
Everything was silent as the new information was digested.
Daryl was the first two speak. “The Saints a’ Boston,” he muttered.
Both caged men smiled at him, but Rick only looked confused.
“I ‘member hearin’ ‘bout it. No one could agree if they was heroes or criminals.”
“Heroes don’t kill,” Rick said firmly.
Connor laughed dryly. “Tell that to all the innocent people who were shot by cops.” Rick winced. “Lots’a Boston cops were helpin’ keep us off the radar. And that priest and FBI agent were here to discuss gettin’ out.”
“We never said we were heroes,” Murphy told him. “We didn’t do it for for tha fame or anythin’. We were just doin’ what was right.”
Rick gave a frustrated huff. He turned to Daryl for advice.
After a few seconds, Daryl answered. “If ther really tha Saints, it’d’ be real good to have ‘em on our side.”
“...I need more time to think about it. But I also need to get my people inside.”
“We’ve been locked up in here for three days. What’s another?” Connor said, though he didn’t look at all happy. “Long as you pass over some food.
Neither Rick nor Daryl answered before leaving.
*
“Are you sure that was the right move” Murphy asked in French.
Connor leaned his head on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s the only move. They can kick us out without a sweat. We can’t let that happen.”
“I think the guy with the gun wanted to kill us soon as he heard the mafia thing,” Murphy said. “Don’t think he’ll be on our side, and he seems important.”
Connor sighed. “We’ll just have to be nice. We can do that, yeah?”
Murphy leaned his own head against the wall. “Yeah, I guess. If that’s what it’ll take.”
The twins could hear more people enter the block, but as hard as they tried they couldn’t make out any words said. At one point Murphy muttered how it was worse than waiting for a verdict, but other than that, their cell was silent.
It was a very long while before the man with the gun returned. Connor stood up, half blocking Murphy incase things went south.
“Yer lucky,” the man said. “You got’a few fans in our group.” Connor’s shoulders relaxed. “Gonna be conditions.”
“If one of ‘em is separatin’ us, you might as well kill us now,” Murphy said, staring him right in the eyes.
“Well, it wasn’t. But that’s good information to have.” The man paused, looking from one man to the other. “No weapons. Gotta hand over everything. Guns and knives.” Connor nodded reluctantly. “Second, yer locked in this cell every night ‘til I say otherwise.”
Murphy groaned, hitting his head against the wall again. Connor was the one who spoke. “Ignore him. We’re just sick ‘o cages. But if that’s what it takes, then aye, we’ll agree.”
The man watched them carefully for another half minutes or so before nodding and unlocking the cell. “Rick Grimes,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Connor MacManus. That there is me brother, Murphy.”
“Not gettin’ up ta shake your hand,” Murphy muttered. “Deal’s not that good.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “He’s bein’ a bitch ‘cause his ribs were bruised. He’ll be in a better mood in a few days.”
“He better be,” Rick warned, backing up slightly as Connor moved out of the cell.
“Since it’s not night yet, I really need ta walk around a bit.” He looked back at his brother and exchanged a few words in Gaelic before nodding.
“Hey,” Rick said, stopping him before he could get far. “Don’t talk to my kid,” he warned. “Another condition.”
Connor turned back to look him in the eye. “I promise I won’t start anythin’, but I’m not gonna ignore him if he comes ta me. You got a problem with that, talk ta him.” Connor turned back and walked out to try and meet his new blockmates.
*
Daryl had called the Perch the second he could, but it still took time before he could actually get his stuff up there and get settled. He had seen one of the Irish brothers talking to a few of his friends, but since there was no trouble, he didn’t bother paying attention.
As he was putting his sleeping bag down, he heard two people walk clumsily up the stairs and stop at the walkway looking over the block. If he hadn’t already identified them, the conversation in the strange language would have given them away. He was able to pick out some names, but that was all.
He let them talk for a few minutes before deciding to make himself known. “Prob’ly shouldn’t keep talkin’ in whatever that is.”
Both brothers startled. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Murphy said, trying to catch his breath.
“It’s Gaelic,” Connor said, turning and really taking in Daryl’s redneck look. “So what, English only in America now?”
“No,” Daryl said, trying to stay calm. “You sound suspicious, like yer hiding stuff.”
“We just want to keep our private shit ours,” Murphy snapped.
Daryl shrugged. “Just tryin’ to help.”
Connor spoke after a small stretch of silence. “You’re right. Should probably keep the other languages to a minimum for now.”
Murphy huffed but didn’t argue.
“Yer doin’ scouting, ain’t ya?” Daryl asked.
Both brothers nodded. “Need to know who not to piss off,” Murphy said.
“Lori ‘n Rick,” Daryl told them. “Rick is in charge, ‘n Lori has a high horse thing goin’ on.”
“Seems overly protective of the kid,” Connor pointed out.
“They shouldn’t worry. Kid’s a good judge ‘a character. He wouldn’t talk to ya if he thought you were dangerous.”
“His parents would still kill us. Literally.”
Daryl shrugged. “Prob’ly.”
“Who else should we look out for?” Murphy asked.
Daryl scanned the area, then pointed. “Maggie an’ Beth. They ain’t convinced yer not a danger. Just try an’ be real nice to everyone ‘n they’ll trust ya at some point.”
“Is that how they got ya?”
“I wasn’t nice. But I tried real hard to be useful.”
Connor gave him a smile. “Useful we can do.”
Daryl took a step to lean on the railing next to them. “Still will be harder for ya. With the baby ‘n all.”
“Rick values your opinion. That’s obvious,” Connor said after a few minutes. “If we stay in line, you’ll keep a good word in there for us?”
Daryl nodded without hesitation. “Some people should ‘lest get a chance. You seem like those kind.”
Connor lightly bumped his shoulder against Daryl’s. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Should prob’ly get back to yer cell,” Daryl said, nodding to the dark window.
Murphy made an exaggerated groan, but let his brother move to support him. He turned to Daryl when they reached the stairs and said something short and quick in Gaelic.
“He said ‘I’m a fucking bastard who is trying to get us killed’,” Connor said, sounding amused. “He also says ‘Thanks’.”