Hello you people!

So first of all, I'm sorry that this chapter lacks the Connaryl, and I really tried to put their part in here, but the chapter would've been way too long, so I decided to make this a Murphy chapter only. I felt the need to explain this and his view on what happened, and I need to get him from A to B.

On the bright side: don't think that I've abandoned the Connaryl. Next chapter will be all about them, and it will contain the first hints of the shippy. Everything will built up to two locations and countdowns in this story, so stay with me here! Just like I said right from the beginning: this is a plotdriven fic, and the two main storylines are a) Connor and Daryl getting to Augusta, Connor's immunity and their unresolved tension, and storyline b) Murphy's survival, his immunity, his struggle after what happened to him back in Boston.

And to answer the frequent question: YES, Connor and Murphy will meet again when those two storylines intertwine, but I'm not going to tell you when and where.
And don't worry about Daryl there. Just like I said. It's shippy ;D.

Can I just say that I'm having so much fun with this fic? I'm really excited and there's so much plot that I gotta stick in here, and I'm all about conflicts and tension. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! But enough blablabla, have some Murphy now after reading two fics that were just about Connor (and Daryl)

And thank you so much for your follows, favs and reviews. I really love reviews, so keep them coming ;P

Resurrection

Chapter 6 - Memory

Murphy's Dream

Day Zero

335 Days ago...

July 26th, 2007 - Apartment building, Port Of Boston

He had been listening to the screaming, sobbing, begging and crying for hours now.

But no matter what he did, for some reason he couldn't do anything about it. His shoulder ached and he felt incredibly exhausted because of the blood loss, but it felt like the worst part was over. He was just lying there on the floor, his clothes sticky and stinking because of all the blood. And his brother wouldn't stop crying next to him. After what felt like hours or maybe even days of passing out and waking up again he could finally move his hand again, if only just a tiny bit. He knew it had been a while since he had ended up on this floor, because his blood was already crusty and smelt like rusted copper on his bitten shoulder. He just wanted his brother to stop crying because a) he hated to know that he was the cause for that and b) it annoyed the crap out of him, especially since he couldn't do anything about it.

He didn't know why he couldn't move, speak, blink or shift. He could hardly breathe and swallow, so he wasn't really surprised that his brother thought he was dead.

Except he wasn't. He didn't know why or how. He didn't even know who or what he was, all he knew was that he was still conscious. Was he one of them now? He couldn't really tell because he only felt his very swallow heartbeat. How was he supposed to know if he was a walker? Everything the walkers were applied to him as well. Barely breathing. Bloody. Stinking. Unable to speak and communicate. Unable to move freely. And he was hungry.

No matter what he was, he was still -here. Conscious, aware, listening! Why wouldn't the other man get that?

He couldn't really remember much because he was so confused and exhausted, but his guts told him that his brother was supposed to feel it.
Feel and see that there was no reason to cry, because he was still there. He wasn't dead. It didn't matter if he was alive or undead. He just wasn't dead.

He remembered the request and promise.

Shoot..me. 's...'s my dying wish.

I said no! No, yer my fuckin brother..no. I won't do that..

And there it was. His brother wasn't granting him his dying wish. He didn't know if this was supposed to make him feel relieved or angry. Of course he didn't want to be shot now that he was still conscious, but why the fuck had his brother decided not to shoot him as requested? Just because he wouldn't be there to judge him if he didn't? He didn't want to be shot, but what if Connor just left him here without shooting him and he would die a slow and painful death? Maybe of starvation, of dehydration because he could feel the thirst and hunger already?

For a moment he was actually surprised that he could remember his brother's name.

Connor.

Of course, how could he ever forget.

We know that you had a sibling. A brother. Dr Gregory told me not to tell you anything about your past because there could be a shock reaction, but we just can't wait any longer. You obviously have a hard time remembering things. Maybe you just need a little help there. Dr Gregory suggested that we should send an escort team out there as soon as you can tell us more details about your brother's last known location. It might not be too late yet. There is a high possibility that he could be immune to this infection as well.

He suddenly felt the presence of his brother who was sitting down right next to him, weird chuckling and sobbing noises exiting his mouth at the same time.

"I just remembered that you still owe me a fuckin cheeseburger" Connor said and started laughing, but it wasn't happy or normal laughter, it sounded miserable and creepy.

"1994. We made a bet that I could cut up more cow tongues than you. I fuckin won and we said you'd have to pay for cheeseburgers as soon as we get our next loan."

He couldn't remember, but it wasn't like he could say anything to that anyway. So he just kept lying there on the ground, unmoving, clothes bloody, eyes closed, his entire body cold and numb with pain as he listened to Connor's crazy talk. He felt so sorry and miserable because he had to listen to how his brother absolutely lost it because of everything that had happened to him.

"You never bought me one. And we both forgot it."

He felt how Connor gently nudged his shoulder but couldn't react to it either.

"So you still owe me one. And you can't just..."

Another violent sob suddenly escaped his mouth and it was silent until the next one could be heard.

"Oh fuck, Murph. Fuck fuck fuck this can't be hap..." but then he was back to weeping, and it nearly ripped his heart in two.

If he still could then he would have widened his eyes by now, because he suddenly didn't just remember his brother's name, he also remembered his own.

Connor was his brother. And he was Murphy. Murphy M...well, something, and he had been bitten by some blood thirsty monster. And it sounded like the undead hadn't just torn his shoulder apart, but also his brother's soul. He startled but didn't move when his brother suddenly got back on his feet and walked away with quick determined footsteps.

No, no don't walk away, Murphy just thought and tried to turn his head and look at his brother, but he was still paralyzed.
All he could do was move and flex his fingers a bit, but neither his mouth nor legs would move.

He tensed even more when he heard the clicking of the gun and Connor's breathing increased and got louder. Murphy didn't know what was going on, but he figured that his brother wasn't pointing the gun at his unmoving body, simply because it didn't feel like it and because he would come closer and press the muzzle right to his head.

So there was only the other option.

Although he couldn't remember shit right now he still knew one thing: he knew Connor and what he was willing to do when it was about him.

Connor screaming his name at the top of his lungs. The clicking of handcuffs on porcelain.
The fluttering bathrobe high in the air, falling down down down.
The unpleasant sound of a body hitting the asphalt after falling down five stories.

Don't..kill yerself..Promise.

We live together and we die together.

Connor was pointing the gun at himself.

Murphy tried even harder to move, although it seemed to be impossible.

No, no you can't do that! Connor! he kept yelling in his head, trying to build up the special thought connection they'd always had.
But nothing was happening. He could still hear Connor's excited breathing, like he was really about to pull the trigger in a moment.

Murphy struggled even more, until he could really flex his right hand, the one with the Aequitas tattoo.

He needed to stop his stupid, stupid brother from doing this. Even if he was a walker now, even if he was one of them, undead, forever staggering around and hungry for flesh and blood. Even if he was lost or whatever was going on with him after that fatal bite, he couldn't let his brother commit suicide because of that. Not after everything he'd asked him to do. Murphy kept struggling and flexed his hand again, and then he heard it.

"Murph?"

So they still had that connection. Murphy wanted to nod and respond but all he could was flex a few more muscles, and his aching body answered with a violent shiver that sent a wave of pain through his limbs and shoulder.

"Murph!" Connor said again, and now it was obvious that he could see him move.

Murphy wanted to cheer and cry because he was still there, because Connor was still there, because he had kept his twin from doing something stupid. Although he couldn't cheer or do anything like that his brother was doing it for him. Connor chuckled shakily and Murphy could hear footsteps, meaning that the blonde got closer.

"Jesus Christ Murph, I thought ye were dead" he heard him say and wanted to smile.

Me, too, Con. Me, too he answered in his head, hoping that Connor could still understand it.
Although the slightly younger of the two brothers couldn't speak he finally managed to turn his head and opened his eyes only to see...

Nothing.

Or more like: almost nothing. It felt like he was staring through dirty glasses, like they were covered with condensed water. Murphy blinked a couple of times and hoped that his blurred vision would clear, but nothing happened. He could only see his brother's blurry figure. All black clothes and messy hair. But he couldn't see his face, and he still couldn't talk. He was absolutely shocked and terrified.

I can't see...oh fuck, Connor, I can't see! he tried to yell but only dry croaks and groans would escape his mouth.

His throat was simply too dry because he hadn't been able to swallow and drink for more than two days.

"Murph?" Connor asked again but just got another croak as answer, because no matter what his brother did, he couldn't speak.

But he did manage to get on his feet. Murphy was shaking and wavering a lot because he was so weak on his feet and his body still hadn't been able to reproduce all the blood he had lost. As he lifted his body up from the ground he felt the immense pain in his bitten neck and shoulder, and the movement opened the wound once more.

Maybe that's the reason why I can't speak, he thought because the wound happened to be very close to his throat. He thanked god that it wasn't too deep, because otherwise he would be dead and unable to walk in general. So maybe he couldn't speak. That wasn't the worst part.

He just wanted to get back on his feet so he could get to Connor, his brother. Just like always. He followed where Connor went, and Connor was the one to solve all the problems, Connor was the one to make everything alright. And right now he didn't even care that he -was- the little brother. He just wanted Connor to fucking hold him, to let him know that they were still alive and that they would both make it.

"Murph, Brother, it's me. Connor" he heard his brother say, but once again only a painfilled groan and croak would escape his mouth.

I know! And it's me, Murph, don't you fuckin see that I'm trying to get to you? I need your help! he kept yelling in his mind, because this was the only way of communication he had left. He felt so confused because he didn't get why Connor wouldn't help him. Okay, he got that his brother was devastated and exhausted from all his crying, but that had never kept him from helping him when he really needed him, had it?

Murphy kept staggering in Connor's direction, almost blinded, in pain and desperate for a connection. He reached out for his twin when he thought he was close but missed, and his breathing got louder and raspier with every step he took. The injury was still almost killing him and hurt more than anything the younger of the brothers had ever experienced in his entire life, but he kept going, stumbling closer and closer to Connor to get to him. No matter what.

Just twenty more steps, just nineteen...and because Connor still wouldn't help him he just got angry.

Help me ye fuckin bastard! he was yelling in his mind, but his twin wouldn't move an inch.

And then he heard the click again. Murphy tried to widen his eyes.

"And shepherds we shall be..." he heard Connor say, and Murphy tried to call out again.

No! Connor, it's me yah idiot! He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and tried to walk faster. Only raspy breaths and croaks escaped his mouth as he tried to answer, and he tried to get the gun in panic. But he couldn't see or talk, so he just waved his arms around, trying to knock the weapon out of his brother's hands in time.

He just needed to get there!

Thirteen steps, twelve...

"For the my lord for the..Power hath descended forth from thy hand. That our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands..."

He couldn't believe that he was the one hearing the prayer now. That he seriously was about to get executed by his own brother. Murphy tried to walk faster but stumbled. He nearly fell to the ground and his head started spinning because he was so panicked, so shocked, so exhausted and so traumatized.

No no no no. Connor couldn't just...he just needed to get there in time.

"Fuckin stop walking like that, Murph...please" Connor sobbed and hesitated, and maybe that was all his brother needed.

The younger of the two of them got even more aggressive. He was so close.

"So we shall flow a river forth to thee.."

His heart was pounding faster and faster. Why the hell was he still so far away from Connor? Why was his twin stumbling away from him when only a couple of footsteps separated them?! He cocked his head and tried begging his brother with a simple begging look on his face as he tried to form words but there were still just incoherent croaks.

"Do you remember that prayer?" Connor asked, still sobbing but a tiny bit of hope showing in his voice.

Murphy got more confident and tried to nod, but he didn't even know where up and down was anymore.

"Yes!" he thought he was answering, but actually, it was just a loud incoherent squeak because his abused vocal cords wouldn't listen to his brain's commands.

"Please tell me ye remember it..please tell me ye remember me...fuckin don' be like them..." Connor sobbed and still sounded unsure, but now he was having another crying fit, and Murphy wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Only four more steps separated them, and when Connor wouldn't do or say anything the younger of the two finally thought that he had made it.
Now he just needed to get to Connor, and wrap his arms around him.

Maybe the nightmare was finally over.

Yes, it's me Con, it's me he thought and wanted to cry with his sibling, no matter how pathetic it was. The whole thing was way too traumatic and fucked up to be manly about it. He had been bit and just for a moment Connor had been about to shoot him. But he was close now, too close to be shot by his own brother, and Connor just HAD to see that he was still in here, in this walking body, that he wasn't going to attack him like all the other walkers. He just wanted to be with him again.

"And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patris et Filii..."

Murphy was so close, but this phrase made him stop walking in pure horror.

Connor didn't recognize him. Didn't recognize his own living and begging brother.

And now he was pointing the gun right at his head.

"I love ye Murph" he heard Connor sob in the most pathetic and inhuman way, but he couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything, and he didn't even feel the same thing.

In his head he was screaming and fighting for his life as he kept yelling for his brother to stop, but his body just froze right then and there, too shocked and paralyzed because of what was about to happen.

And although Connor had said that he loved him he didn't feel love, he only felt one thing:

Heartbreak and utter betrayal.

Connor never meant betrayal. Connor never meant heartbreak. Connor meant home and safe haven.

Protector, not murderer.

But their connection, their life, their unity, it was gone. Connor no longer connected with him because of that bite, and Connor was going to kill him.

"Et Spiritius Sancti" he heard the man in front of him whisper, then there was a loud bang, his ears were ringing, his head was thrown back and he felt an incredibly intense pain on the left side of his forehead. Just for a split second he felt something hot and burning enter his brain and sending shockwaves right through it.

The last thing he remembered was the feeling of betrayal and pain.

Then everything went violently black.

Right after Murphy's dream,

316 Days Ago...

August 14th, 2007, 5:12 am - Hanscom Air Force Base, Boston

Murphy sat up with a loud scream and looked around the room in sheer terror. He let out another groan when he noticed how his left wrist burned with pain and turned his head to see what was up with that. It was still chained to the metal bed frame, and when he turned his head once more he noticed all the medical utensils, the furniture and the chair next to his bed.

Gregory's surgery.

Right.

He let out another gentle moan and then placed his free hand to his burning forehead, the side where he could feel the ugly dent and scar.
He felt how sudden tears shot to his eyes because he remembered that day, what had happened to him and who had caused that wound on his head.

Connor.

Connor had shot him in the head although he had been begging for his life.

He buried the heel of his right hand in his eye and started rubbing it tiredly and miserably. His heart was still pounding in his chest like it was about to jump out of there. It wasn't like he'd never had this dream before. He'd been dreaming about getting shot and bit pretty much every night ever since he'd managed to get to this base, but this happened to be the very first time that he actually remembered the person involved. The first time he remembered dialogue, actions, and feelings.

And the feelings hurt.

He understood why Dr Gregory had been so keen on keeping everything from him, to stop all the soldiers who knew him and his past from talking. But they didn't need to talk anymore, because he remembered. He remembered his name. He remembered his brother's name. He remembered his brother's deed.

Murphy looked at his free shaky hand and stared at the tattoo on his finger. Aequitas. He still couldn't remember its meaning. There were a lot of things that seemed to be lost forever. His childhood. His past prior the outbreak. Names and faces of friends and locations. His favorite food and drinks, his favorite color and hobbies. So many things were lost, all the good things, and yet he remembered the worst day of his life now. Like it had happened less than 24 hours ago. And although he knew that his brother probably had not meant to shoot him if he'd known that he was still alive, he just couldn't fight the feelings that were coming back now.

I love you, Murph, those words were ringing in his ears, but he felt nothing but disgust. It felt like the very last emotion and they very last thought he'd had before he had been shot had imprinted itself on every cell of his abused brain, burned itself into it with every inch the bullet had entered his head. Fired in there, and stuck forever.

He felt nothing but hatred, disappointment and betrayal when he recalled Connor's voice.

He tried not to feel that way because Connor was his brother, but he just couldn't bring himself to change his feelings. No matter what he did, it wouldn't go away.
The bullet hadn't just destroyed his ability to hold a pen and write. It had destroyed any sort of trust he had ever felt.

Murphy lay back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling while moving his cuffed hand up and down to hear the clacking of metal. Truth was that he didn't want to remember anything now. And he regretted his prior desire to learn what had happened to him. It just made him feel sick and quite frankly, even worse than before he had remembered.

About one thing he was absolutely certain. Although there was a part of him that wanted to see Connor one more time, there was no way he would tell Simmons about the location where he had been shot. He didn't want to get back there, he didn't want to see Connor after that, and he didn't want anyone to know that he remembered. This topic was done now. Getting shot in the head by thugs was tragic and people had pitied him enough because of that, but getting shot by your own brother was way worse. He certainly didn't want to hear anything about it.

Ever.

Murphy turned his head again to look at his cuffed arm with a frown.

One way to keep people from asking questions and pitying him was to get the hell out of this place, just like he had been planning to do before his violent nightmare. He turned his head in the other direction to let his gaze wander. Maybe he could find something to get rid of these handcuffs?

He frowned even more when he finally noticed that it was pretty dark in the room he was being kept in. Only a faint shimmer of light was shining through the windows that faced the hangar, and when he lifted his head a bit he saw that the sun was rising already. He'd fallen asleep a couple of hours ago and Simmons still wasn't back yet, and for some reason there was no light in here. Which was weird, because Gregory always kept the generators running and there was always light.

No matter what was going on out there, he was more worried about himself in here. Murphy shifted closer to the edge of the bed when he noticed a bunch of paper clips on the table close to his bed. He had no idea if this really worked or how it worked, but he remembered seeing it in the movies and maybe this was his only way to get rid of the cuffs. The younger MacManus brother shifted further towards the edge and tried to get one of the clips, but of course. Once again he was reminded that this wasn't a movie. He couldn't reach it, and even if he did, he wasn't even sure if he could actually grasp it. But he still kept trying and leaned out of the bed more and more, until his cuffed wrist started aching as the metal buried itself in his delicate flesh.

"Ah jesus, fuck, come on!" he growled and kept reaching out for it.

Just for a second his finger brushed it.

"Yes!" Murphy grunted, only to let out a frustrated groan when he lost grip of the pin and it landed on the floor.

"Oh, fuck you!" he exclaimed and started kicking like a madman, because he couldn't believe how unlucky he was these days.

Footsteps made him freeze right where he was. He could hear them coming closer and closer, and judging by the sound - those were proper army boots. And the constant clicking of metal hitting metal told him everything he needed to know.

There was someone from the army coming. With army boots and a rifle.

Maybe this was Simmons?

Murphy sat back up and waited for the lights to be turned on, but nothing happened.
The footsteps were coming closer and closer, until he could finally see the man. The younger MacManus gritted his teeth and tensed.

"The fuck yer doing here?" he growled and locked at Zach, who was now standing by the door and folded his arms with a strange smirk on his face.

"My turn to watch over you, paddy. What'd you think?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes at the other man and moved a bit further away from the door, hands clenched to tight fists. His eyes shot back and forth between Zach and the window, hoping to see Dr Gregory or Simmons come here as well. But nothing would happen. He was all alone with Zach, and the lights were still out. It wasn't like he was afraid of the dark. It just crept him out because it was never a good sign. Zach suddenly started chuckling and moved closer to Murphy, much to the latter's discomfort.

"What's wrong? I thought we had 'a connection', Dave?" Zach said and then sat down on the chair that Simmons had abandoned just a couple of hours ago.

Murphy was properly sitting now, back pressed against the wall, fists ready to start boxing as soon as Zach decided to get too close.

"Fuck off" the younger MacManus growled and glared at the man who was way too close for his taste now.

Zach obviously seemed to enjoy the discomfort he was causing, because he wouldn't stop grinning at Murphy. He placed a hand on his helmet and lifted it off his head, and this was when the dark-haired MacManus twin finally noticed the blood on the man's clothes.

"The fuck's going on out there?" he asked but wouldn't keep his eyes off Zach.

The man leaned forward which made Murphy tense even more. The soldier moved a hand through his messy hair and sighed.

"There's...a bit of a change of plans out there" he said, then they heard a loud explosion and gunshots as well as screams outside.

"What the fuck?" Murphy exclaimed and turned his head to look out of the window.

Zach used this moment to get even closer. He got up and approached Murphy, who startled and automatically tried to punch him.

"Fuck off!" he yelled once more and just when his fist was about to connect with the other man's jaw Zach suddenly grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

He grinned again and shook his head.

"Relax, jerk off. I got orders. Get you outta this mess"

Another explosion, more screams. The Murphy remembered the talk about the gate earlier.
He tried to keep fighting Zach as the man started fumbling with his cuffs.

"Don't think I see right through yer shit, yah retard. Fuck off" he growled once more but Zach wouldn't give in.

"Don't think I didn't hear yah talk about me with yer buddy Jimmy."

Zach froze right then and there and stared at Murphy, who glared back at him.

"Simmons and the girls. I know fuckin everything. And I ain't fuckin afraid'a you, asshole" the younger MacManus went on, and the two men gave in to an intense staredown.

For just a moment Murphy felt really pleased with himself because he had finally told Zach that he had him right by his balls. Although he knew that it had been foolish to reveal it so soon. Especially when he was still cuffed to a fucking bed with the enemy right next to him. Zach suddenly smirked at him again.

"Damn right you heard that. Good to know" he said and Murphy frowned, because the reaction caught him off guard. He had expected him to be angry, surprised, that he was going to deny it. But they just stared at each other for a good minute longer. Another hail of bullets caught them off guard, and Murphy turned his head just for a second more, and this was all Zach needed. Without a warning he suddenly grabbed the pillow from the bed, wrestled the cuffed MacManus twin back into the mattress and pressed the pillow to his face before the other man got a chance to fight back.

"I ain't gonna let no fucking cure destroy what I can have now!" he suddenly yelled with sheer anger vibrating in his voice.

Murphy kept yelling just as much, but the pillow muffled his protests. He kept fighting as hard as he could, but it was useless with just one hand and the other still being cuffed to the bed frame. The clacking of metal was echoing through the room because the younger MacManus was struggling so violently. He kept fighting the hands and pillow that was suffocating him.

"I was a fuckin nobody before shit went down!" Zach went on.

"I had soldiers spit on me, laugh at me and call me chick names because they were fucking bored of this goddamn same shit every day! And now I got civilians look up to me, chicks are running into my arms and they think I'm the fuckin hero for once! And you ain't gonna take that away from me!"

Murphy managed to grab one of his arms and started scratching, hitting and pinching him as hard as he could, but Zach wouldn't give in. He was pressing the pillow to his face so hard that the younger MacManus feared that he could break his nose, and he only managed to catch breath for a second before the fight went on.

"They ain't even gonna know it was me! 'm just gonna make it look like your headshot finally killed yah, like it should've! Weeks ago!"

"Let me go!" Murphy roared through the pillow, panic getting more and more present.

Once again he felt his heart pounding in his chest as he feared for his life, his face covered in sweat because of the intense heat underneath the pillow.

And he couldn't breathe.

Oh fuck, he couldn't just suffocate after surviving a bite and a fucking headshot wound, could he? He started buckling, kicking and fighting like a madman to get Zach off, but he could already feel how his energy got drained because of the lack of oxygen.

If only he could just get rid of these fucking handcuffs!

He pulled as hard as he could but felt nothing but pain. Neither the cuffs nor his wrist would give in. And fuck, it was so hard to breathe!

"Me, Jimmy and the guys we're gonna take care of this place a whole lot better than Simmons or any of you fuckheads ever did. With you it'd just be a matter of time until you got any of us killed. You already murdered Ashley you sick fuck! You just need to be..fucking GONE! Oh fuck, why don't you just die already?!" Zach was properly yelling by now and kept pressing the pillow even more to his face. Murphy smelled and tasted nothing but dirty, hot and wet cotton now, and it was only a matter of seconds until he would lose his consciousness.

Just like any other time in his life his mind automatically started screaming for the only person he had ever trusted with his life.

Connor! he was begging in his mind, and just for a moment he wasn't fighting a pillow but a gun. Why was everyone trying to fucking kill him? And although he was struggling and fighting with all the strength he could gather he suddenly couldn't hold back the angry tears anymore.

In his mind it kept stabbing him like a sharp knife in his kidneys.

Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal!

Connor, 'm right fuckin here! Help me!

He finally couldn't do it anymore and heard Zach's manic yelling and insults. He already welcomed the darkness. At least he could finally go.

A loud BANG! suddenly startled him, and a second later he could feel the heavy weight of a man right on top of him. He smelled burned iron, flesh and blood, and when there was no more pressure to the pillow he fought it off with a violent gasp. His black hair was wet from all the sweat and stuck to his forehead, and when the pillow was finally gone he started coughing. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest that was heaving, and for a moment he actually thought...What if Connor had finally heard him? What if he was back? What if he had finally saved him?

He turned his head only to be utterly disappointed. Of course it wasn't Connor.

And although he didn't want it to be that way, his heart just broke all over again.

He was staring at Simmons with wide eyes. The Major was standing there, gun still smoking and high in the air. His clothes were blood spattered and his eyes were wide open, and there was an ugly laceration on his left temple. Murphy let out a terrified gasp and then started coughing again, and when he looked down on himself he saw that Zach was lying across him, with a large and bloody hole in the back of his head.

Simmons finally approached him and lifted the dead weight off of him.
For a second both men stared at each other in pure shock, then Simmons reached for the keys to Murphy's cuffs.

"We need to get you out of here."