Author's Note: Another prompt given to me by TwilightBrightStar, that I accepted because it meant she would write too. I'm a little unsure about it, it wasn't easy writing.

Disclaimer: Neither Boondock Saints or Walking Dead belong to me.

Prompt: Connor and Murphy in the Walking Dead world and they meet Daryl.

Saints, Walkers, and Doppelgangers

"We're way down here in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and I'm still looking for your stupid fucking rope," Murphy MacManus muttered, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"It happened to be very useful," Connor snapped. "So don't fucking start with me!"

"You do know this isn't a movie, right?" Murphy demanded.

"Just fucking keep your eyes open," Connor ordered, lightly shoving his brother toward the shelves in the hardware store that they were searching.

Murphy turned sharply and shoved his twin back with all his might. "Watch it!" Connor yelled angrily as he and a shelf of tools fell to the ground in an explosion of clattering sound.

He was just beginning to scramble out from under the shelf when a shuffling sound from the back of the store caused both brothers to freeze.

"Was that-?" Connor whispered but Murphy was already creeping toward the direction of the sound. "Murph!" Connor called in an anxious whisper, still struggling to get out from under the shelf.

"Ssssh!" Murphy called back, putting a finger up to his lips and then disappearing out of Connor's sight.

"Murph!" Connor called again and from the back of the store Murphy yelled and opened fire, the sound of the bullets deafening in the mostly empty store. "Murph!" Connor screamed, yanking himself free and stumbling forward, his ears ringing, telling himself the sudden silence meant nothing. It had only been seconds. Nothing could have happened to Murphy in the seconds since Connor had lost sight of him.

The back of the store had what at one point must have been a storeroom and Connor, gun drawn, inched toward it. He had to be careful, he couldn't just barge in, he had to think, he had to -

The room was empty. Only the remains of several rotters but no Murphy.

Connor tried to tell himself the absence of Murphy was a good thing. He tried to tell himself it meant Murphy was alive.

"Murph?" he whisper-yelled.

The door at the end of the storeroom was hanging open. It led outside.

No one was in sight.

Blood was splattered on the pavement though and Connor only just restrained himself from screaming his brother's name. Yelling would attract rotters and that was never a good idea.

Quickly Connor followed the blood. He didn't have to follow it far.

"Son-of-a-bitch!"

At the sudden voice Connor jerked his gun up and quickly turned the corner toward it. "Murph?" he asked in disbelief. His brother was considerably filthier than the last time he had seen him only a few moments before and he was holding a -

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Connor demanded, gaping at the crossbow.

Murphy yanked an arrow from a rotter's head and spun to face him, looking wary. "Who the hell are you?" he asked in a rough strangely accented voice.

Connor froze.

Everything about the man's appearance said he was Murphy but his voice and the expression on his face were completely unfamiliar.

Still.

"Stop fucking around, Murph. That's not funny."

"Who's Murph?" the other asked, raising his crossbow and leveling it at Connor and Connor's blood ran cold.

Murphy would never hurt him, he knew, but...

"Just take it easy now," Connor said, putting his hands up. He wouldn't point his gun, not at... whoever this was. And now that he was looking more closely he could see the man was wearing different clothes than Murphy too.

"Who're you?" Not-Murphy asked, eyeing Connor through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"Let's just calm the fuck down," Connor said, eyeing the crossbow still pointed at his chest.

"What the fuck is going on here?" a third voice demanded and Connor all but sagged in relief. Murph. "Who the fuck is this?" Murphy said, taking in the crossbow and lifting up his gun.

Not-Murphy turned to face Murphy then and Connor, watching, could see the exact moment his brother and Not-Murphy took in each other's appearance. It was surreal. Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped in identical expressions of disbelief and they spoke at the same time.

"The fuck-"

"The hell-"

"We're not looking for any trouble here, friend," Connor said, hands still lifted. "I was just looking for my brother," he said, motioning to the gaping Murphy. "We'll be on our way now. Come on, Murph," he said, slowly backing away.

Not moving his eyes away from his doppelganger Murphy obediently followed, never lowering his gun.

Not-Murphy didn't lower his crossbow either but he made no effort to stop them from leaving and that was good enough for Connor.

"Where the fuck did you go?" he demanded of Murphy a few minutes later once they were safely out of sight of the crossbow wielding Not-Murphy.

"I had to lead the rotters away from you, didn't I?" Murphy said. "You were fucking pinned under the shelf!"

"Whose fucking fault was that?" Connor snapped, hitting his brother.

"Yeah, well I was only gone for five minutes and you went and found a replacement!" Murphy said, hitting Connor back.

"Yeah, what the fuck was that about? Fucking eerie is what that was," Connor exclaimed, clapping his brother on the back as Murphy nodded in agreement.

"You okay, Daryl?" Rick asked, eyeing his right hand man.

Daryl tore his gaze from the alley the two brothers, the one that had called him 'Murph' and the one that had looked freakishly like Daryl had disappeared into. "Yeah," he grunted. "Fine. Find anything good?" he asked, falling into step with Rick.

There were more important things to think about and the men, while strange, hadn't seemed to be a threat.

Daryl put them from his mind.

-End.

A/N: Hope it was enjoyable! Review, please!