Chapter Eight

"You told me they were dead."

Merle frowned in confusion at his little brother's words, at the hurt in them.

"What?"

"You told me that they were dead, Merle. The day you save me."

His eyes widened, hurt striking him as he finally realized what his brother said. Connor flasher in his mind's eye as did the lilting Irish accent his brother had once spoken with. How could he be so stupid?

"I wouldn't lie to you, ya know that. All of Mazurka's papers said they were dead."

Daryl nodded, relaxing slightly, but the hurt was still there, lingering in eyes. He looked more vulnerable than Merle had seen him since the night he saved him.

"You left me." He rumbled. "You left me behind."

The elder Dixon scowled, covering the guilt he felt for hurting the younger.

"They hand cuffed me to a roof and left me to die!"

"We went back!" Daryl yelled and he froze. "We went back for you and found nothing, nothing but cauterized flesh and a disembodied hand. I thought you were dead."

"Daryl, Kid, I-"

"Then the van was gone and we were stranded and you never came back. You abandoned me."

The pain in the other man's voice was raw, as was the hurt in his stormy gaze and he felt shame overtake him.

He hadn't been thinking when he'd found the van. His only intention was to get out of dodge and find Daryl. He'd planned to take his brother and run but the blood loss and the drugs had skewed his sense of direction taking him far off course. Then he'd passed out and the Governor had found him and "saved" him. He'd never even had a chance to look for Daryl before the bastard had roped him into working for him, citing that Merle owed him for saving his life.

He'd given up hope ever finding his brother, until Friendly and co. had stormed Woodbury, until he'd seen Daryl in the Pit.

"I'm sorry." He replied, knowing the other would hear everything he couldn't bring himself to say.

True enough, the hunter stared at him then nodded, emotions locking down.

"You'll all be going in front of the council after lunch. They're gonna decide if you can stay or not."

"Council?"

Daryl nodded but didn't elaborate.

"Lunch will be sent up in a few minutes."

Just as the words left his mouth, soft footsteps sounded and a slim blond girl entered. She was petite with a soft Disney princess kind of beauty that would've left anyone else breathless. Luckily, Merle wasn't just anyone. He stared at her, trying to intimidate her into leaving but she snorted and passed Daryl a tray with some sort of stew and bread on it.

"Pleasant friend you got there, Daryl."

The archer snorted, relaxing at her mere presence.

"Quiet, brat. Fer I tell yer daddy ya snuck up here."

She pouted.

"It's not like he'll hurt me. He's related to you, so he can't be all bad."

Both Dixons smiled at the statement but didn't comment on the girl's naivety.

"Lunch." Daryl said instead, passing his brother the tray.

One whiff and Merle frowned.

"Rabbit? I hate rabbit."

A mischievous smirk crossed his brother's lips and he turned to leave with Blondie.

"I know."


"He's alive, Conn."

A soft groan left Conner's lips as he awakened, before his eyes shot open, final registering his father's words.

The events of the night before flashed in his mind's eye and he wanted to fall to his knees and thank the Father.

Murphy was alive.

He was alive!

Their bond flared in his mind, strengthening with every passing moment and he looked up at his father with a brittle smile on his lips.

The man smiled back, running a gentle hand through his hair but before he could speak there was a knock on the door and the cop from before entered followed by another man, who smiled warmly at them.

"Good afternoon gentlemen. My name is Hershel Greene and the young man in front of me is Rick. I'm gonna look you over while you eat lunch then we'll bring you before the council so that you can hear the decision."

Noah frowned. "Where is my son?"

Rick sighed, but Hershel didn't falter.

"Ah yes. Rick did tell me that you're Daryl's family. I imagine he's having lunch with the others."

Conner frowned. "Who the hell is Murphy? My brother's name is Murphy."

His father placed a calming hand on his arm. "Murphy changed his name."

His frown deepened and he stared at the men in front of him. Hershel ignored it and continued to check them over for injuries but Rick stared back calmly.

After a moment, the doctor moved away.

"You're good to go. Just a few bumps and bruises here and there."

They nodded and Rick sighed.

"I don't want to cuff you, but I will if you get out of hand. Follow me, we're going to the next block over."

Sharing a look, the former saints followed the duo out of the room and into the halls, keen eyes scanning their surroundings and something warm unfurled in their gut.

This place…it could become home.

They were led into a library where four others waited patiently. Three were unfamiliar but they only had eyes for the fourth one.

Murphy.

In the harsh lighting of the library, the changes between the man they'd known and the man before them were starkly visible.

Scars marred tanned skin, hidden under a thin layer of dirt and ink, messy dark hair fell into nearly feral storm blue eyes brushing the top of broad shoulders, and there wasn't a trace of humor in eyes that were normally never without it. Had it not been for the well-known tattoos and the hum of their bond, Conner would have never suspected this man was his brother.

"Murph…" He breathed and the younger male stared at him impassively.

"The council had made a decision." One of the others, the man the Governor had captured days previous, stated, fear lurking in his gaze as they met his father's.

"And what is that?" He snarked and his brother's lips twitched.

"All three of you will be able to stay as long as you pull your own weight."

Rick responded, sending Murphy a loaded glance. The youngest saint nodded, and he smirked satisfied. Conner's eyes narrowed.

There was something going on there.

No matter…his brother still hadn't spoken to him.

That was a problem.

"No words fer yer long lost twin?" He snarked at his twin who gave a small smile, impassive expression melting.

"Twin?" Rick commented slyly and a faint blush crossed his brother's cheeks.

Oh yeah, definitely something going on there.

Ignoring it, for the moment he reached out and pulled the younger man into a fierce hug.

Murphy stiffened and he went to pull away but he tightened his grip.

"We thought you were dead, Murph."

"I thought y'all were dead too. Merle found me." His twin responded his voice deeper and rougher with a sultry southern tang…nothing like the light Irish he was used to.

Still didn't matter.

Relief rushed through him and he thanked Dixon fervently in his mind.

They still had a lot of shit to talk about and Murphy still had no clue Ma was dead, but at the moment as he held his twin nothing seemed to matter.

Everything seemed fine…

Then an infant's cry pierced the silence and before he could comprehend what was happening, Murphy was gone.

TBC…