Chapter Ten
"Wanna talk about it?"
Daryl hummed softly as he prepared the doe he'd caught that morning, trying to ignore the way Carol's eyes were boring into the side of his head.
He'd kept his word and returned from his hunt at dawn, a fat doe hefted over his shoulders and rabbits tied to his belt, yet his mind was no clearer than it had been when he left. If anything, his thoughts were whirling faster, the threat of the Governor and the turbulence caused by the reappearance of his family leaving his emotions in disarray.
He was happy, so happy that they were alive, so relieved that they weren't out among the millions of animated corpses outside the prison gates.
On the other hand, he was hurt. They'd lived on without him, unaware of the torture he'd suffered at the Mazurka's hands, or the skills he'd gained. They didn't know he'd mourned their losses, his faith being tried again and again until it vanished completely.
And that was his main problem.
As Murphy, he'd had faith. Of him and Connor, his faith had been the stronger of the two prevailing whenever his brother's waivered, when all the odds seemed stacked against them. As Daryl, he had lost his faith. God had forsaken him a long time ago, and had taken his love and faith with it.
All he had now…was hope.
Hope that his Lil Asskicker would grow up strong, surviving this hell-driven apocalypse and becoming strong and fierce, like he knew she would. Hope that he wouldn't lose anyone else to the plague sweeping the world.
Most of all, hope that he would survive long enough to see it all through.
Looking up at Carol, he gave her a tiny smile, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind.
"I'm fine."
She snorted, rolling her eyes at the lie.
"No, you aren't, but it's okay. I can wait." She squeezed his shoulder gently, then ran a hand through his hair. "I'm here when you're ready to talk."
"Thank you."
She smiled. "Of course."
*/*
Longing.
It ran rampant through his veins as he watched Grimes and Walsh interact with their group, no their family.
The familiarity between them spoke of bonds forged by hardship, by suffering and survival. It spoke of people that were willing to die for each other if need be, knowing that any of their fellow survivors would avenge them if they fell.
It was family and he yearned for it.
Before everything, the Saints and his consequent separation from his twin, he had always had his mother and his brother. With his father out of the picture in prison, their family had been closer than most, only strengthened by the telepathy he and Murphy had shared.
Then, suddenly, they were in America and it was just him and Murphy, their mother thousands of miles away counting on them to make something of themselves in the promising country. They made friends, their family growing before being stolen again.
Doc.
Dolly.
Duffy.
Greenly.
Romeo.
Rocco.
Da.
Their little family had doubled, tripled, only to be picked off one by one, by their mission, by the plague sweeping the world and suddenly instead of it being only him and Murphy against the world, it was him and Da, his twin forever lost to him.
Now, six years of grieving and his twin was alive, their bond bright in the back of his mind and full of a warmth he thought he'd never feel again. He could feel his brother's emotions, happinessconfusiongriefreliefloveloveLOVE, and it left him breathless.
He'd never forgotten about Murphy's capacity to feel, to love more intensely than anyone he'd ever met. It was something he and Ma had attributed to the younger man's empathy, however feeling it again and directed even partially at him was something else entirely.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jolted turning to the culprit to find Grimes watching him with worried, and amused blue eyes.
"If you miss breakfast because you wanted to brood, I will laugh and eat your share."
The man said with a friendly smile and Connor rolled his eyes.
"I don' brood."
The former cop snickered. "Uh-huh. C'mon, you may be able to catch Daryl at breakfast before he sneaks off to do Daryl things."
"Daryl things?" He repeated confused, following the man back inside. They'd all been outside in the yard, clearing as many walkers from the fence as they could. Well, everyone barring the blonde woman from the day before, the kids, and the mousy woman that had called Murphy "Pookie".
When they got inside they found Murphy already present, blushing vividly as the little blonde, Beth, teased him about one thing or another, Judy safely ensconced in his arms as she suckled from her bottle.
Grimes smirked at him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he leaned over the man to kiss his daughter's forehead, and Connor's eyebrow rose as Murphy's blush darkened even more.
Huh.
He knew that face.
It was the same one the other wore when he was crushing on Margret Isaacs in the sixth grade and Liam Fredricks shortly after they'd arrived in America.
Murphy was in love.
Well, now.
"Did you at least let Lori, have a chance with her before you kidnapped her?" The man teased and Murphy huffed.
"She made me wait two hours. Two! Tol' me she had ta change her diaper and bathe her. That don't take two hours, Rick." The gruff southern accent startled him slightly, still unused to the sound of it replacing his brother's soft lilting Irish one, it didn't match what he knew of the younger's gentle nature.
Still, he could tell the other was pouting, even if her didn't sound like it.
"Isn't Lori her mother?" He asked drawing his brother's attention and Grimes snickered.
"Yeah…mostly. Daryl is more her-"
"Rick, I will stomp yer ass if you finish that sentence."
Holding his hands up placatingly, the cop sat down, still smirking, especially as Walsh joined them.
"But you're such a pretty mama, Daryl." The darker haired man taunted, smiling when Murphy glared, blushing.
"Fuck you Walsh. Remember than next time we go huntin'."
Walsh paled, chuckling nervously.
"Hey now, be reasonable. No need to shoot me with your crossbow…again."
Connor blinked, taking a bite of the stew, he'd grabbed from the mousey lady, Carol, on his way in.
It was good…even if didn't recognize the meat in it.
"He shot you?"
Murphy smirked.
"He deserved it."
Walsh blushed. "I was drunk!"
Grimes snorted. "Uh-huh, and you decided to slip into Daryl's bed while he was sleeping, thinking he was Lori."
The blush darkened.
"It was an honest mistake!"
The other two stared at him and he huffed returning to his own food while Connor watched them bewildered.
"Alrighty then," He said changing the subject. "How about we go catch up, brot'er o' mine."
His twin froze, then swallowed looking away.
"Yeah." He responded softly, placing his spoon down with a shudder. "Guess we should do that."
He handed his little companion to Beth, who smiled at him sympathetically and kissed his cheek.
"Everything'll be alright, Pookie. You'll see." She whispered giggling when Murph glared at her.
"Tol' y'all not to call me that."
She snorted. "Like we'd really listen." She replied dancing away from the resulting swat and leaving the room.
Murphy stood, and he followed, sighing as his twin took off in what he assumed was the direction of his room, longs legs moving briskly as if he were trying to hurry and get this all over with.
"What about Da?"
The younger shrugged. "Knowin' him, he's probably already there."
"Where?"
He got no response, and he scowled, raising an eyebrow as his bother came to a cell with part of it caved in, a large slab of the ceiling leaned down like a ramp. Two other slabs were stacked against each other like stairs and he was stunned when he realized where they were going.
"You sleep on the roof?"
His twin hummed. "Easiest place to hear everything and see attackers before they see us." He paused. "An' I didn' wanna sleep in the cell, made me feel caged."
He stared then nodded, allowing the leaner, but more muscular male to help him onto the roof, smiling when he saw their Da was already present.
A nest of blanket and pillows rested under a slab of stone that had been propped up against the building forming a natural tent, a large tarp thrown over it to protect it from the elements and give an illusion of privacy. A machine gun turret was set up close to the edge, a sniper rifle and a large crossbow leaned beside it, as well as a black duffle bag zipped closed to hide its contents from the world.
Different animal pelts were laid out in different states of mending and treatment, a blanket made of deer skin in its last stages.
It was organized and practical like his twin, even if the some of the objects seemed to contrast what he knew of the other.
Murphy slipped into the tent, returning with three large pillows, and handed two to them to sit on. He sat on the other, leaning beside the machine gun with wary storm colored eyes.
"Guess it's time for us to catch up."
TBC…