Kadge Rose-Feather
2015
Fuck This.
Connor walked out of the shop, placing a fresh cigarette firmly between his teeth, trying to stop his hands from shaking. They were a scarce twenty minutes from their destination and it was an understatement to say he was merely worried. He was fuckin' terrified.
As he approached the car, he tried his best to put on a brave face, smiling despite his fears. But that changed drastically as soon as he saw that the vehicle was bloody empty.
Dropping his cig onto the floor along with the plastic bag filled with items he'd bought as a clever way to delay their trip, he tried his best not to assume the worse.
"Connor?" He called out, and then again, a little louder. But there was no response.
"Shit, shit, fuckin' shit!" He looked around, but the only sign of his delusional younger brother was a pair of boot tracks leading into the woods.
Daryl had been out for quite a good couple of hours, but Merle wasn't bothered. They were Dixon men, they'd had worse and they'd have worse still. But they were tough, and it wasn't a problem.
As usual, the fridge was pretty damn bare food-wise, but it was worse than a bad idea for him to be seen in public at the moment, so he decided he'd better do a little bit of hunting. See if he could turn anything up before he got too drunk and could barely see straight.
It wasn't long outside before he could hear the sound of someone approaching, and he aimed his gun at them as steadily as he could.
He lowered it upon realizing that it was Daryl, suddenly up and around.
Wait, hang on a second, he'd come from the opposite direction, which was impossible considering Merle hadn't even seen him leave the house, not to mention upon closer inspection there was some sort of tattoo on the side of his neck, and his hand. Merle knew for a fact that hadn't been there before because he'd patched him up himself and he'd seen his flesh displayed, bare as all hell.
No way would his baby brother ever be able to stand the pain of a tattoo, anyway. So who was this intruder with a similar face?
He cocked the gun again, but the other didn't raise his hands, or even slow his pace. He was barely 6 metres away at this point and Merle wasn't comfortable with that even one bit.
"You better slow right tha fuck down there, buddy. I don't know what's going on, but I sure as hell know I don't want you anywhere closer till you start explainin' it, ya hear?"
The other grumbled something incoherent under his breathe before he did stop, albeit begrudgingly, and calling out to Merle.
"What te fuck 're you doin', Merle?"
Despite the absolute insanity of the situation, he couldn't help but laugh at the man's accent. Definitely wasn't Daryl. Some strange bloody lookalike? What were the odds? And to think, he hadn't even used anything today.
What had he been calling himself again? Daryl what?
Connor was sure he'd heard his brother use the name but in his agitated state his brain refused to let him remember the details of the conversation.
He did some desperate asking around in town and quickly found out the Dixons residence was what he was looking for, and from there locating it was a breeze. Though no one living close by seemed to be too fond of the residents, nor of his own accent. He didn't care though, as long as he found Murphy. His brother might have currently thought he could survive trampling out through the forest – but truthfully he'd never been out in one by himself in his life, and Connor was very afraid of what or who could get to him if he didn't hurry up.
He always felt so on edge every time he didn't have his twin within sight.
Pulling up, the situation didn't look good. There was a large, bulky looking redneck pointing a gun straight at Murphy, who didn't look phased in the slightest. He could hear the loud shouting before he got out of the car, and then all the attention was shifted to him.
He could hear his brother moaning very vocally before turning to him, looking the angriest Connor had ever seen him in his life.
"Oh, would ya just fuckin' leave me alone already, ya stupid mick!"
Connor tried to calm his racing heart, tried to remind himself that his brother was nowhere near being in his right mind at the moment, but it was hard.
The almost military looking guy was looking at Connor as well, but he was laughing. Somehow this didn't help to cut the tension at all.
"And who the fuck're you?"
It was the first time Connor had spoken, but he found it hard to keep his eyes off of Murphy as he did.
"'M his brother."
The guy opened his mouth to respond, but then a figure appeared, rubbing his eyes as he stepped out of the derelict building the Dixons called a home. His eyes widened dramatically when he looked over the Irishman's way.
"Connor?" He mumbled, before his eyes landed on Murph and he started swearing like a madman with his heavy Georgian accent.
They'd been talking for hours, seated inside the property now rather than just standing arranged outside. Once they had all gotten used to the situation as much as was humanly possible, Merle thought it only right to finally voice his opinion on the matter.
"Well, I ain't got any clue how this coulda happened any more than any of you, but I think it's pretty clear what should be done here." He gestured to Connor with a tilt of his head. "You take lil leprechaun here back on to Boston, and Murph gets to stay in good old Georgia with me."
Murphy disagreed, but didn't have any chance to voice his concerns over Daryl's outrage, leaning up slightly from where he was sat, resting against the couch. "Aw hell no! I'm not going back t' that fuck-truck of a city, 'm staying right here!"
Merle shrugged as if he wasn't bothered, though his brows held a tight frown. "You think I'm having a leprechaun as a brother then you're dead fuckin' wrong."
Daryl's eyes narrowed aggressively, and his voice dropped down low. "Wouldn't make much of a difference; not like you're even around anyway."
Connor held his hands up to try and soothe the rising tension. "Alright boys, t'ats quite enough of that. We'll figure this all out and no one is going anywhere until we do."
But Daryl was nowhere near done, his hands coming up to wildly demonstrate his feelings.
"You come back after three years and then you want to kick me out of my own fucking home?"
Merle wasn't looking at him.
"Listen to the mick, ya idiot. Ain't no one goin' nowhere so there's no need for you to be gettin' your panties in a big old bunch."
"Oh yeah, 'cause now yer on board with the Irish, sure."
"I ain't the one fuckin' talking like one!"
"He said, enough! You fucking redneck idiots, just calm down. This isn't the time for any of your brotherly fighting bullshit, okay?" Surprisingly, everyone listened to Murphy and the arguments quickly ceased.
But Daryl wasn't content.
"Whatever. Fuck y'all." He mumbled, and out the door he went, crossbow slung over his shoulder moodily as he left.
"You really think that's the best idea with your-" Merle called out after him, but he stopped short as he looked over at Murphy, currently in his brothers body. "-head." He finished with a grumble, standing up to make his way to the fridge for more grog.
Murphy just rolled his eyes at the brothers' stupidity, giving his brother a relieved smile. It was the first chance they'd had to talk since being, however strangely, re-united.
"I was so fuckin' scared, Murphy, I thought you'd lost yer damn mind for sure. Well, I mean it wasn't you, but-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, Connor. Truthfully I'd been out for most of it, but for the main part I had no fuckin' clue what was goin' on."
Connor gave him a tight smile, full of relief, but also pain.
"It's still so fuckin' strange, hearin' ya talk in that accent, brother."
"Aye, don't I know it. I can barely believe it myself!"
Thoughts?
