They lost the farm a week after Shane got himself gunned down by Carl. A herd came down from the highway just like that first one that made them lose Sophia. Only it was bigger, more spread out. Like a bunch of smaller streams converging to make a river right where the farm was. A river of blood and tears that drowned the land and their spirits.
What drew the herd no one was ever sure of. Could have been the sound of the wind vane clattering away a little too loudly. Maybe one of the engines echoing just far enough out. Even the groaning of a smaller group drawing the attention of one too many others. With the world gone quiet, one sound was as likely as the next if it rung out too far. Hell, it could have been the smell of the cattle. Fifty head was a lot of cows, a lot of walking meals for the eternally hungry.
None of them had ever discussed what they'd do if the farm was overrun. If they had to give it up. Mostly because none of them thought they'd have to actually do that. Food and water had been put in the basement and plans were made to try and contain or deal with herds the size of the ones that took Sophia. But they hadn't thought they'd ever have to face more than that. They ended up being so very wrong.
Despite that oversight, they all ended up back at the highway. Where they'd left food for Sophia nearly a month before. So much had changed since then.
"Where's the rest of us?" Daryl had asked, looking around at the much smaller group when it seemed they'd all gathered and pulled in.
They were now 'us' to him. They were his. The way Connor had been. Da. Rocco and Romeo. Greenly. Merle. All his. A part of him.
…
The place they chose to camp for the night wasn't exactly the safest. But it was all they had. T took the long watch while Rick patrolled. Daryl took it upon himself to maintain the fire and occasionally search out firewood once every couple hours. It was quiet for the first part of the night, but there was tension and distrust in the air. Everyone on edge. Everyone riled up and worried. Their safety net broken.
Carol was the first to voice it. She looked over at him with those eyes of hers that made him think of his Ma and of Connor at the same time. Some weird mix of the two. She waited until Rick was far enough on his small patrol that he had a good chance of not hearing her murmur, "Why do you need him? He's just going to pull you down."
Daryl couldn't tell what she was looking for in saying that. Rick hadn't steered them wrong so far. Even if he'd gotten a bit on the unhinged side after Shane's first and final attempt to steal his family from him. The man had reason to be paranoid. To harden his heart against the world.
"Nah," he shook his head and fed another stick to the fire, "Rick's done alright by me."
"You're his henchman," Carol said, lips curling like it was a personal offense. Then she sighed, taking the blame for herself somehow, "And I'm a burden. You deserve better."
He deserved better? Yeah, maybe. But he wasn't complaining about what he had. The group was his and he was theirs. None of them were burdens and he sure as hell wasn't a 'henchman'. He did what Rick asked him to because the two of them had an understanding. A respect for each other.
Daryl pouted a little, lips twisting into a frown as he eyed her, confused. She'd been giving Rick the stink-eye every so often, but he had trouble wrapping his head around the way she was talking. "What is it you want? From him or me?"
"A man of honor," she said so quietly, like a wounded animal whimpering, no longer sure of itself.
Daryl shook his head and let out a sigh of his own, "Rick has honor. I wouldn't follow him if he didn't."
She took a deep breath and picked up one of the sticks he'd brought back, played with it for a moment while her eyes searched the darkness around the camp for outline of Rick's figure. He knew she was waiting for him to pass by again because she didn't speak until he had come and gone. She looked up at him, "He used to have honor. I'm not so sure about him anymore."
"Why?" It was Hershel that asked, looking at Carol from the other side of the fire.
Carol bit her lip for a moment, kept her voice low, "The way he's been... the way he's been controlling everything... it reminds me of Ed."
"He ain't Ed," Daryl answered immediately, tone hard. Hurt, even. It surprised Carol. He could see it in how she looked at him. He turned his head away and let his gaze linger on the stars. "Ed was the kind of man I would have given to the Lord. Before. Rick's not like that. He's... he's controlling, yeah. But he's not doing it for the sake of control. And he's not hurting us to keep us in line. He's trusting us to trust him. If we wanted to go, if we tried to go, he wouldn't stop us."
He looked back to Carol and she met his gaze, a hand on her mouth as she fought to hold in her tears. She wasn't really against Rick. He could see it in her. She was just scared, her safety net shattered. Same as the rest of them. Only she didn't have anyone specific to hold on to. Not the way the Greene's had each other or Glenn had Maggie. Lori and Carl had each other. Even T-Dog could find support in Rick and Lori and Glenn. Daryl had thrown his lot in with Rick pretty fast, too, so he had that to fall on.
But Carol was still trying to find her place among them. He felt bad for not realizing that. For not seeing it. She'd seemed to be handling everything so well. Comparatively. But inside she was breaking apart. He'd forgotten how hard it was for someone who came from where she had to get a semblance of a life back. Even Merle, tough son of a bitch he was, had turned to drugs to help him get through his traumas. And Carol was just...
Murphy planted his butt on the ground and put his crossbow to the side. He held his arms open, invited her to join him silently. She did so, crawling the few inches that separated them to curl up against his chest.
"Go on and cry now if you need it, darlin'," he murmured, resting his cheek on the top of her head. He rubbed her back gently. But she didn't cry. She held it in. That was fine, too. If all she needed was the reassurance, the support, then that's what he'd give her.
That's what Murphy would give all of them. Whatever they needed him to. They were his.
…
"Herd's three day's walk behind us, assuming nothin' calls 'em off our ass," Daryl said as he climbed off his bike and pulled the gas can out of his saddlebag. "We don't got a lot of time to stay here, but we can use the break to do some huntin' in the woods and a couple runs to that shoppin' center a mile west of here."
"You think it'll be safe for two people?" Rick asked as he pulled the map onto the hood of the car and made a quick note in pencil.
"Safe enough," Daryl shrugged. "Glenn and me, we could hit it easy. He's good with that knife you know."
Rick snorted, the side of his mouth twisting up. He brought a hand up to rub at his lip, "Yeah. I know. Probably better with it than anyone else here. 'Cept maybe you."
Daryl grinned back and handed the gas can off to T-Dog, who took it over to Carol. She and Lori had the best handle on how and when to distribute the important supplies. The truck was running close to fumes and the car wasn't much better. But deciding which one got how much of the five gallon can Daryl had brought back was something the group collectively left to them. Even Rick, in charge as he was, knew he had to delegate that. They both had better heads for those kinds of numbers.
"I've had more time to practice," he laughed. "Maybe I should teach him how to throw."
Rick tilted his head, giving him one of those 'got an idea' looks, "Maybe you should. Everyone else, too. If they show a talent for it."
Daryl shrugged, not opposed to the suggestion, "Maybe. If we can find a place to stay for longer than a couple days."
"We're working on it," Rick assured him and waved him closer to take a look at the map with him. He pointed to a place east of them, "Maggie found an old phone book while you were out. There's a public storage listed. Supposed to be around here. Not exactly accommodating, but they have tall fences and the containers are usually decently sized with heavy doors that are easy to secure. We could make a home of it for a month or two, over the new year."
"Just a month or two?"
Rick raised his hands, keeping them open, "Not sure if it's sustainable. It's possible shelter, but that still leaves food and water and heat. Don't know anything about the town it's in."
Daryl leaned over, tracing his finger from where Rick had marked the last herd to the public storage, "Twenty miles. We ain't got the gas for that if there's anything blocking the roads."
He wasn't questioning the move, of course. They didn't question Rick's decisions anymore. That was the rule. But bringing up issues that could effect the outcomes, that was okay. It was expected, even. Each of them had their own strengths, things they knew more about than the others. Rick expected them to voice problems they could see. He might still decide to go for it sometimes, take risks, but they were informed decisions. As informed as they could be.
"You said the herd's three days out by foot. You can take a look, find us a way through as far as you can with what daylight's left," Rick said, rolling the map up and holding it out to him. "We'll get the cars inside the garage over there, make it our camp."
Daryl took the map, nodding, "Can I take someone with me? I ain't never been out that way."
"Might as well take Glenn with you," Rick agreed.
"Was thinkin' Maggie, actually." Rick raised an eyebrow, mouth open in slight surprise and Daryl shrugged, "She's better with a rifle."
Rick gave that some thought before nodding and turning around. He gave a sharp whistle and the whole group turned to look, waiting for orders, "Maggie. Grab a rifle and a box of rounds. You and Daryl are scouting as far as you can to that public storage. Find us a path through."
She hurried over to the back of the truck where Carol was already getting the ammo ready for her. The rest of the group returned to their tasks. Daryl to his bike. Two months since the farm fell and even with all the danger, they were still doing okay. Hungry more often than not. But they got by. They were together. Alive. Wasn't much more any of them could really ask for.
…
"Think it's New Years yet?" Beth asked, leaning into her father as they all huddled around the fire. By their best guess it was either New Years Eve or the day before. They didn't have a calendar anymore and tracking the days had gotten confusing at times.
"It will be in the morning," Carol smiled at her. "Or close enough we can start counting the days properly again. I'm more worried about what happens in February. I can't remember if it's supposed to be a leap year or not."
The group laughed collectively at that. It was such a mundane worry. One they didn't get to have very often anymore.
"Sure. It's New Years," Rick said in the comfortable silence that followed. "Anyone know Auld Lang Syne?"
Beth smiled and pushed herself up, brushing her hair away from her face, "I know the first verse. That's it."
"Only verse worth knowin'," Daryl murmured from the corner where he sat with his knees tucked up to his chest. He was rubbing his fingers along the tattoo on his right hand. Tracing the letters. "It's a drinking song."
Maggie grinned at him and elbowed Glenn mischievously, "It sounds like you know the words, then."
Murphy's eyes lifted to find the group watching him. Waiting on him. He let out a soft sigh and shook his head to a chorus of 'come on' and 'sing it'.
"I'll start it," Beth offered.
Murphy shook his head, "Nah. I ain't got a voice for it."
"Daryl," Rick's voice carried, quieted everyone. Made them look at him. He was smiling. "Most of us don't have a voice for it."
He raised an eyebrow, "Is that an order, Officer?"
"It will be if it has to be," Rick answered into the laughter that filled the small storage container.
Murphy couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips or the embarrassed blush that came with them all looking to him. Including him. Wanting to include him. He missed that camaraderie. He missed spending New Years with an arm wrapped around Connor's shoulder while they drunkenly sung the song in every language they knew. Switching out at every chorus or verse.
He brought ahis thumb to his mouth and chewed on it for a second, the atmosphere infectious. When he pulled his hand away, he let his legs fall to the side and he lifted his chin, almost as if challenging the room, "Alright. What language you want to hear it in?"
A round of surprised gasps met him. He figured it was a new year, with new starts. Why not let them know he spoke more than just English? Why not let who he was slip out a little more? He was still Daryl, but he was also Murphy. And if they could accept Daryl, well hell, they could accept Murphy, too.
"What do you know?" Maggie asked for them, leaning into Glenn, who settled his chin on her shoulder.
Murphy shrugged, "English. Latin."
"No surprise there," Hershel murmured and Murphy supposed that was true. He hadn't exactly hidden how often he prayed and most of the time his prayers were in mixed Latin and Irish. The latter of which was harder to pinpoint, but he expected Hershel could recognize the former well enough.
"Spanish. French. Italian," he continued, holding up a finger for each one. "Russian. German. Irish..." He let himself linger off as if thinking hard. Then he looked up to meet Glenn's eyes and smirked. "Korean."
"No way," Glenn's denial was instant, like he knew it would be. "No way you know Korean. After all that shit you used to give me about being Chinese?"
Murphy dropped his hands, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged apologetically, "Geugeuo-e daehae geulae mian. Geulaedo nan manh-eun yeonsueb-i eobs-seubnida."
The jaw drop from the kid was worth it. As was the wide eyes of everyone else looking between the two of them. Maggie hissed at her boyfriend, "Was that real? What he say?"
"He..." Glenn put a hand to his temple, as if his whole world had just been turned upside down. "He said sorry about the Chinese shit and that he doesn't have much practice." His jaw worked a little more, somewhere between amazed and offended and maybe even a little proud. "This whole time? Do you know how long it's been since I got to hear that?"
Murphy ducked his head, "I wasn't sure if you knew any. Lots of folks don't know the language of their ancestors. Maggie don't know Irish."
Maggie nodded, looking back at Glenn, "Daddy don't either. Or grandma or grandpa, when they were still alive."
"Korean," Glenn pointed a finger at him. "The whole thing. You're singing it in Korean."
"And then German," Carol said, smirking at him. "And then Italian."
"Irish after that," Hershel murmured, his old eyes soft, nostolgic. Like he'd heard the song that way once before, but it had been so long ago he could only remember how it'd made him feel.
Murphy groaned, pulling his head into his hands, "Ya'll are gonna ask me to sing it in all of them, ain't ya?"
Rick laughed, "I'll make it an order if I have to."
