Out in the forest. Rick was sitting in Daryl's favorite spot, a clearing about 200 yards from Alexandria's front gate. A small brook was rushing past noisily, and Rick, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, let his mind wander back.
Back to that late afternoon, soon after they'd arrived at the safe zone, when he'd gone out to look for Daryl who'd not been seen since morning. Rick had known his lover wouldn't wander too far without telling someone where he'd gone, so he'd followed the path to the white house where he, Carol and Daryl had met a few times, right at the beginning, to talk tactics. Sasha had told Rick she'd seen Daryl walk that way right after daybreak. When Rick hadn't seen Daryl anywhere near the ruined house he'd walked on a little further.
First he'd heard the rushing water, then, a second later, had spotted Daryl sitting on the very same tree trunk he was sitting on now. Rick hadn't approached his man. Daryl had needed alone time like other people needed air to breathe. Rick had just stood and watched for a while, content just knowing where Daryl was. Ever since then he had wondered if Daryl hadn't known that Rick had been there, and whether it had been Daryl's gift to him to let himself be observed for a while.
That day Daryl hadn't done anything, just sat motionless, staring at the brook and the rushing water. Now Rick was doing the same, his head full of memories of Daryl. But there was more to occupy his mind now. After the talk with Connor the other day Rick had agreed to let the brothers and their group stay. He still felt some unease. Rick didn't like not knowing what had happened to Murphy, it kept niggling at the back of his mind. The unresolved issue with the mute twin felt like a bomb just waiting to go off. But Rick knew that sending the brothers away would likely result in fatalities. Connor was right, Murphy was in no state to be out in the open, amid walking corpses.
On Rick's request everyone had given the brothers their space, and Rick himself had kept his distance. But he'd had an eye on things from afar. Carol had told Rick there had been little to glean from Connor about Murphy's condition, and even less from her examination of him after the seizure.
"Connor says his brother has never had a seizure before. He has no idea what happened, or so he says. But Rick, Murphy is seriously malnourished." Carol had looked very concerned. "Connor wouldn't tell me much, but I kept insisting and he finally admitted that Murphy has hardly eaten anything in weeks. He wouldn't tell me why, but I'm sure he knows."
Rick hadn't said anything to Carol about his talk with Connor. Not that there was much to say. Rick had interviewed the rest of the twins' group together with Deanna. They seemed decent, but none of them had had anything illuminating to say about the brothers. Their leader, a man called Ben, had looked uncomfortable when Rick had asked about Connor and Murphy.
"They're awfully close, those two. Even for twins."
Rick hadn't pressed Ben. He had an inkling he knew what that might mean, but he didn't think that particular secret was any of his business.
Rick hadn't been back to the house where the newcomers were staying. Carol had gone a couple of times to check on Murphy, even though they all knew she couldn't really do anything for him at this stage. Rick had stayed away, but not so much to give the brothers time to get used Alexandria. He would need some time to adjust to having the man with Daryl's face around.
He had just arrived at that thought when he became aware that someone was watching him, just as he had watched Daryl, all those months ago. Rick didn't have to guess who was watching, he could feel a feather light touch gently probing his mind. He sighed. It didn't look like he'd have the luxury of getting used to Murphy gradually.
"You can come and join me, Murphy. I don't mind…"
Rick didn't know why he said it out loud, he was almost certain now Murphy could read his mind. There was a quiet rustle of leaves, footsteps, then a body sinking down onto the tree next to Rick. He didn't look up. For the moment he didn't want to see the unsettlingly familiar face.
"You shouldn't be out here. It's not safe, and you're not well…"
Rick was surprised at the concern and gentleness he felt for this stranger. And suddenly, a longing so strong surged up in Rick that it was all he could do not to bury his head in his hands, letting the sadness overwhelm him. He missed Daryl, oh how he missed him…
And there was the feeling again, impossibly soft, pushing, gently, like a caress. Rick almost knew this wasn't just his imagination, it was Murphy, connecting. Murphy's mind, seeking, feeling. Rick had never felt anything like it before, but he let it happen, gave himself up.
Show me Daryl.
It wasn't so much words Rick heard, or felt, in his mind, as feelings and images. But as Rick was a man of words, so that was what he would later remember. A conversation. It made total sense at the time, even if afterwards Rick was never quite sure that he hadn't imagined it all.
So he showed Murphy his lover. Showed him the man he had hoped to spend his life with. And in showing this stranger, and Murphy helping with that strange mind of his, Rick saw and remembered things he thought would never come back to him.
Their first kiss. That night on the farm, after Sophia. Daryl devastated, hurting so much. Lashing out at them all, angry, and so sad. How he had cried in Rick's arms after he'd run out of energy. That feeling of their strong hunter in his arms, shaking, clinging on. Rick, crying himself, holding Daryl gently, there, in the middle of that field.
Their first time. Not until that first desperate winter. Rick and Daryl out on a forage, alone for the first time in weeks. They'd both been hesitant, nervous. Neither of them had been with anyone in a long time. Rick would learn later that all of Daryl's previous experiences had consisted of quick gropes and hand jobs in insalubrious saloon bathrooms, and blowjobs in beat up truck cabins. Once he knew Rick had made sure that all their love making was pleasurable and gentle. He'd delighted in the enjoyment Daryl had gotten from their times together. He'd felt honored and a little proud how the hunter trusted him increasingly throughout that first winter.
Then Murphy's seeking mind alighted on the memories of what had happened early on at the prison. Rick felt ashamed of those memories, and he tried to pull away from whatever it was Murphy was doing. But the touch was gentle on his mind.
Don't be ashamed. He loved you, I can tell… Let me see…
Murphy's hand alighted on Rick's hand where it lay against the tree trunk.
So Rick relented. Let Murphy see the madness. Daryl slamming into the wall, Rick snarling. Fear. So lost, both of them. Daryl shrinking away, Rick too far gone to notice. And then he came back. Tears, screaming, Rick sobbing in Daryl's arms.
Sadness after that. Daryl going with Merle. The separation when the prison fell, the pain. Joe's gang hurting them all, hurting Daryl. Rick's madness, again. Carol gone, then Beth. Beth's death, and how it changed Daryl. The renewed withdrawal, Daryl's loneliness, his desperation at losing more and more of their group. His withdrawal back into that lonely place they'd both thought he'd left behind.
Rick could feel Murphy's sadness. It felt like a cloud had drawn over his thoughts, a dark cloud threatening rain. Oddly, finally sharing this sadness with someone was helping, despite it also bringing pain. Sharing his memories with a stranger was like letting Daryl know just how much he was still being missed, day after day.
Then the last bit of their story. Alexandria. As much as they'd tried, the safe zone had never truly become Daryl's home. All the others had been relieved to find shelter, food and civilization. Daryl felt mostly trapped. But he had tried, for all their sakes. For Judith, for his family. For Rick. And he had died defending the safety they had found behind walls, even if he didn't feel safe there himself.
Rick's memories here were difficult to understand. Not because he didn't want to remember, but a lot of it just wasn't there, or jumbled. He wondered what Murphy was seeing now. One moment Rick was running through burning streets, the next he was weeping next to an open grave. He could feel the blood coating his hands, feel the body of his lover heavy in his arms. Hear the screaming, the shouting, the running footsteps. Walkers everywhere, and Wolves.
Their leader, stepping forward through the wood smoke, leading a handcuffed figure. Daryl, beat up, bleeding, but alive. Rick had felt fury and relief then, and a dark foreboding. Then nothing, for a long time. Blanked out, or near as. He could still hear the laughter, but not see anything.
If Murphy had asked him to actually say out loud what had happened then Rick could have recalled what the others had told him since. How the leader of this band of outlaws had stabbed his lover in the back and side a dozen times, laughing hysterically. Why, they never really knew. How Rick had pulled his gun, shot the brute between the eyes. That it was a wonder the other Wolves hadn't killed Morgan on the spot. What a miracle it was that Rick's group and the Alexandrians had managed to defeat the outlaws and fight off the walkers successfully.
Rick knew it all as a narrative, but Murphy didn't, couldn't ask. He didn't have to. He was there with Rick, holding Daryl, looking into impossibly blue eyes as they slowly lost focus, heard the last words his hunter had ever said to Rick. "Y're safe, 's all that matters…"
Tears were falling again, thick and fast. Rick hadn't opened his eyes once, hadn't looked at Murphy. He didn't have to. Murphy was there in his mind, soothing, holding on. He was close by, to one side. Right in front of Rick was Daryl, looking on as Rick cried, face creased in a frown at the sadness, but a smile lighting up his eyes.
You are all safe.
