EPISODE 31 – This Sorrowful Life – Part I

Connor and I are back on our feet at once.

"Ye've seen Murphy!" – "He's alive?" – "Is he okay?" – "Where is he?"

"Hold on, hold on. I ain't seen the guy in months." He turns back to Daryl with a mean smile. "See? Fuckin' crazy."

But it's Connor's turn, now, to shudder with the adrenaline. "Where the fuck is he? Where did he go?"

"Easy! Damn! I dunno. Ya Connor, huh? He told me ya were dead. He said he needed to go back to fuckin' Ireland for some broad and his brats or somethin'. I told him he'd never find a boat, but the fucker's more pig-headed than this wanker here!" He points at Daryl with the knife at the end of his stump.

"But when was that?" I press.

"Dunno. Before winter for sure. He's probably dead by now."

But the inflamed glance I exchange with Connor is adamant: Murphy is alive somewhere. He has to be.

Then Merle laughs: "Don't ya think he looked just like my lil' brother? Well, when he was a snotty little turd, he did! I swear, when I met Murphy, I thought I was seein' things. Of course I was pissin' blood and almost dead at the time, so…"

And, looking intensely at Connor, suddenly serious, he adds: "He saved my life that little fucker. Even if he never shut up! The opposite of my lil' brother in that. He's the one that brought me to Woodbury. I wouldn't've made it otherwise. But he thought somethin' was fucked-up there, and he wouldn't stay. Guess I shoulda left with him…"

"Did he say where he wanted to go?"

"Like I said, he wanted to go back to his godforsaken island! He went to the west coast, to find boats. So, if he ain't walkin' with the dead now, he's surely at the bottom of the fuckin' ocean."

Hershel interrupts then:

"I'm sorry, but we're going to need more antibiotics for Sive. With everything you used for me, there isn't enough left…"

"Of course, I'll go," Connor immediately answers.

I can almost watch the wheels turning in his mind. After a bombshell like this, he can't remain in place. Though I won't leave my daughter's side.

"We've already emptied the drugstores around here…" Glenn intervenes.

"I think we saw a vet, a few miles east," Daryl offers then. "It looked intact. Would it help?"

Hershel immediately nods: "That'll do. I'll make you a list."

Probably because I'm in a haze, it seems that I barely have time to understand what's happening before I register that Connor is leaving in a car with both the Dixon brothers.

When they return, at the end of the day, I haven't moved from my baby's side. She's in and out of consciousness, hurting like hell. But I don't feel a fever settling in, so there's hope.

Connor immediately joins us and kneels at her bedside, giving Hershel the medicine he asked for. He kisses me on the side of the head, caressing his daughter's hair softly. And it takes me a minute to realise he's wearing a new holster, in which are stored two Beretta pistols with silencers on. My eyes widen; they are exactly the same he and Murphy used to carry.

He grins and winks before whispering: "I think Murphy must have left them for me."

I frown in confusion, so he clarifies: "I just found them. I think Murphy came here, just like ye did the first time. He couldn't get in either, thought I was dead, so he left."

I swallow hard. And while they're taking care of Sive, I seize the opportunity to go and stretch my legs a little. I need some air.

As I step outside, I see the others fixing up the fence, so I go to assist as I can. And I innocuously find myself with Daryl, a bit removed from the rest. I've got some things to say; though, I can't figure the proper words right away, and he's not the kind to help with that. So, I mumble:

"Did the run go well?"

"We found the drugs, didn't we?" he answers sharply.

"No trouble?"

"Nah, t'was fine." But then he turns and asks: "Sive okay?"

"I think so…"

We work in silence for a moment before he finally breaks it: "Ya know Connor might be the luckiest motherfucker I've ever met."

I raise an eyebrow before he quickly continues: "I mean, he stepped into a random church in the town we crossed. And he found two guns in it, did he tell ya?"

I nod and let out a chuckle: "I guess the papers didn't call him a saint for no reason."

"I couldn't believe my fuckin' eyes... He's a good shot too."

There's some admiration in his voice. I can't imagine just one trip out of here sufficed to insinuate some trust between those two. But, maybe, just maybe, we could find a manner in which we could all get along.

As I'm lost in my thoughts, he starts making his way back to the others. However, there's one thing I haven't said yet:

"Hey, Daryl?" He turns back, even though his eyes still shift away from me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at ye. It wasn't yer f-"

"No, ya were right," he cuts me. "I shoulda been there."

"That's bullshit. There's no way to know if it would have happened any differently. And anyway, it wasn't right the way I reacted."

He shrugs. "Ya were upset." And it makes me sick to know he's used to being treated like shit. I swear to myself I'll never do that again, whatever the circumstances.

"Daryl?" I call once more as he's almost fled away. "I'm glad ye came back."

He grants me a tiny smile that's gone as soon as it came. But I'll take it. My body aches to hold him in my arms, to feel his body against mine once again. Though that's fucking greedy, isn't it? Hell, if I can have a smile, I'll take it.