— 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗬-𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡
( 𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘋 𝘚𝘞𝘈𝘠. )
MURPHY GRIPPED ONTO DARYL'S HAND like it was her lifeline... like it was her life source. Now that she had him back, it felt like the birds sang a little louder and the breeze felt a little fresher. How she managed to get through these past weeks was a miracle, as the energy she now had was overwhelming. As the group marched back into Hilltop's governing house, they had a newfound powerful air about them. They were confident— ready to take back their freedom and all that was stolen from them. They would avenge the lives that were lost.
To do that, however, they would unfortunately need to get through one man: Gregory.
"No! No way in hell. That was not the deal. You people swore you could take the Saviors out, and you failed. So any arrangement we had is now done. Null and void. We aren't trade partners, we aren't friends, and we never met. Hmm? We don't no each other," he lectured as he sat down at his ornate desk. "I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees at great personal risk."
Murphy rolled her eyes. Daryl noticed her frustration and put a strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side while his other hand tucked into his back pocket. His upper back rested against the mahogany bookshelves behind them.
Jesus stepped forward. "Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie, Sasha, and Murphy saved this place. Your courage was inspiring."
"Hey, don't you work for me? Aren't we friends?" Gregory asked condescendingly.
"Gregory, we already started this," Rick tried.
"You started it."
"We did! And we're gonna win."
"These are killers!"
"Is this how you wanna live? Under their thumb, killing your people?" Rick's voice became strained under the weight of his guilt.
"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like. Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have." Gregory's wide blue eyes, ignorant of the situation, pierced the Alexandrians' gazes.
"You always have a choice," Murphy voiced from the back of the room. "So how many people can you spare? How many people here can fight?"
Gregory narrowed his eyes and chuckled ruefully. "I don't even know how many people we have, darlin'."
A low rumbling growl sounded within Daryl's chest and he pushed himself off of the shelves behind him. Murphy set a hand on his torso without making eye contact— a silent gesture to keep him calm. His crystal eyes bored into Gregory, who shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
The leader of Hilltop cleared his throat under Daryl's look and waved them away. "Does it even matter? I mean... w-what are you gonna do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? 'Cause that's what we got. They grow things. They're not gonna want to fight."
"You're wrong!" Tara sounded from beside Murph and Daryl. Everyone in the room turned in the direction of her impassioned voice. "When people have the chance to do the right thing, they usually step up."
Murphy pressed her lips together in a small smile of pride. She knew of Tara's involvement with the so called "Governor" years ago, although the details were never discussed. But she had worked through some of the nagging guilt and regret that Tara faced as repercussions for the events at the prison, as well as the loss she had experienced. Tara's resiliency and introspection had brought about valuable growth, and Murphy commended her for this strength. It is never easy to recognize your mistakes and change for the better because of them.
"Let me stop you before you break into song, okay?" Gregory interrupted while raising a palm toward her.
Tara held her hands out and let them fall against her thighs once more in disbelief. Murphy shared an irritated look with her.
Gregory continued his useless monologuing. "Who would train all this cannon fodder?"
"I will," Sasha promised.
At the same time, Rosita announced, "Give me a week!"
"Rhetorical!" Gregory sang with a painfully obvious offending tone. "Okay? I don't want to know! I never want to hear another word about any of it, ever."
"You're ignoring the goddamn problem," Murphy insisted, doing her best to keep calm like she always aspired to. "Will it take Negan standing over you with a bat to realize what's going on here?"
"I didn't say we had a problem. You did! And what stays outside of my purview stays outside of my purview."
"What the hell, man?" Daryl grumbled, letting his hand slip from Murphy's shoulder to rest on her lower back. "You're either with us or you ain't. You're sittin' over there talkin' outta both sides of your mouth!"
Gregory stood from his seat and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt sleeves. "I-I think I've made my position very clear. And I want to thank all of you for not being here today and not having this meeting with me, or-or being seen on your way out. In other words, go out the back."
Rick stood before the group with his hands perched on his hips. He stared at Gregory for a moment through his slanted brows, but finally turned to the others and sent them a singular nod of consent. They slowly filed out of the office. One after the other, they shot Hilltop's leader glares before relieving themselves of his draining presence.
Daryl's hand slipped out of Murphy's as they entered the foyer of Barrington House, and he muttered, "Well, we don' need him anyway."
"Yeah, that's right. 'Cause we got Maggie, Sasha, Murph, and Jesus here."
Murphy stepped forward, her green eyes flickering between her friends. "Actually, uh... I was thinking that I should be in Alexandria. I'm the only doctor there and Carson is here. So I think I should head back as soon as things are settled and we have some plans in place for... everything."
She glanced over at Daryl, who had already been looking at her. Rick nodded in understanding. Maggie led the way and outside of the house stood a small gathering of people waiting expectantly. Maggie made her way down the steps and squinted in the bright Virginian sun, pulling down her cap a little more to shade her eyes.
"What's goin' on?" she asked.
"Hey," a kind woman stepped forward and made herself known. "If you don't remember, I'm Bertie. And I owe my life to you all, twice over. A bunch of us do. Enid says that you want Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?"
"Yes," Maggie replied confidently.
"Do you think we could win, that we really could beat them? Us?"
"I do."
The woman let out a soft breath of air, nervous... but strong. "Enid says you could show us the way. I'm ready."
The rest of Hilltop's people who had congregated in the clearing made noises of agreement. Murphy could not help the smile that stretched across her lips. Despite the crimes she had witnessed in the recent weeks, there were still good people out there. There were still people ready to fight for their future... for a better world, not only for themselves, but for those around them. That mindset was hard to come by, but could be found in the most unexpected times and places. Murphy let her fingers tangle with Daryl's at her side. His eyes stayed trained on the ground before him. The doctor furrowed her brows, a slight pang in her chest at his reluctance.
After a short conversation between those from Alexandria and from Hilltop, Rick and the others pledged to help train the farmers and prepare them for the upcoming war. They were thanked profusely and then were on their way to continue preparing.
"It's a start," Michonne shrugged, sharing a content look with Murph and Rick.
Sasha shook her head, insistent. "We'll get more. It still won't be enough."
"No, it won't," Rosita agreed.
"It has to be," Murphy interjected, a slight feeling of hope beginning to return. "We'll make do."
"If we find the right stuff, maybe we don' need the numbers," Daryl mumbled, his eyes locking with Murphy's forest green ones before flicking elsewhere. "Blow 'em up, burn 'em to the ground."
Murphy stumbled a bit while walking down the mulch pathway, not watching where she was going as she stared at him with uncertainty. "Wait, you said there weren't just soldiers with the Saviors... that there were workers there. People who didn't have a choice."
Daryl stared straight ahead as they walked onward. "We gotta win."
Murphy's lips separated and she thought to herself for a moment, crossing her arms as an indescribable feeling spread throughout her chest. Maintaining a balance between peace and war was something she always struggled to discover within herself. She felt an unbearable anger toward Negan and the Saviors. She saw the dark world differently after the lineup. But she couldn't help but remember what her own people did at the outpost— how inhumane and desensitized it felt despite her saying so. She couldn't let this streak of senseless death continue.
"We need more hands. Another group. Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they come lookin' for Daryl, we need to be there," Rick announced.
"You don't have to get back. Not yet," Jesus caught up with them just as they reached the gate and pulled out a radio from his back pocket. "It's one of theirs, long range. We can listen in, keep track of them."
"So if we're not going back, what are we doing, then?" Michonne asked slowly.
Jesus sighed with a soft smile playing on his lips. "I think it's time we introduced you to Ezekiel. King Ezekiel."
They all shared looks with one another. Rick placed his hands on his hips, and he let his southern accent drawl.
"King?"
___
The group piled into one of Hilltop's vans and set out on this new adventure, to the distant lands of the eponymous Kingdom. Murphy was the first to admit that she was a little skeptical of this whole charade. What kind of community would play dress up in a world like this? Who would follow a man who proclaimed himself king? To her, it seemed no different than what Negan did to his followers. But as always, she strived to keep an open mind and experience.
On the drive there, Daryl kept a palm upon Murphy's knee, rubbing soft abstract designs in the fabric of her jeans. Although she deeply missed this physical touch, something felt off in Daryl's eyes. She couldn't place it. This wasn't just a product of the abuse he faced at the sanctuary— which she did not know the details of, and would never pry. No, this was a profound shift in his character and the way he carried himself. He looked at her differently.
She tried her best to brush it off and save it for a later time when they could really talk, but the concern continued to flare within.
Breaking her out of her endless cycle of self-deprecating thoughts, the breaks on the van squeaked as Jesus slowed to a stop. Murphy peered out of the window and found themselves in an abandoned parking lot between warehouses. While it was a bit sketchy, she trusted Jesus enough to remain comfortable in this isolation. The engine shut off, and they were enveloped in silence. Murphy set a soft hand atop Daryl's and slid it off her thigh as she opened the car door to exit. She made sure to swipe her thumb across his skin as an expression of notice.
"It's called 'the Kingdom?'" Rick asked as he stepped outside, still confused.
"Yeah," Jesus replied. "I didn't name it."
Rick looked around. "How much farther?"
"Well, technically we're already here. I mean, we're always here," Jesus spoke, making a small smile form on Murphy's lips. "But, here we are— at the Kingdom. Well, it's the outer edge."
Murphy squinted in the bright sunlight as she made her way over to the two. She raised one hand to shield her eyes while the other rested upon the knife at her side, just in case. From behind her, she heard the truck door open. Daryl leaned outside of the car and stared at those who stood.
"Hey, what th' hell we waitin' on?" he asked, gesturing with his hands to show his impatience.
Murphy frowned, but Jesus remained light. He raised a finger to point past Murphy. "We're waiting for them."
The doctor and the others turned at Jesus' gesture along with the distant sounds of clattering hoofbeats. Two men atop beautiful mares rode toward them, armor-clad and defensive. One man, the younger, galloped forward with a raised sword of sorts.
"Who dares to trespass on the sovereign land of the—" the man announced in hostility before pausing at what he saw before him. "Oh, shit. Jesus, is that you?"
Jesus smiled kindly with a small wave. The two horsemen rode closer before halting their horses at a safe distance with a "woah." The older man's eyes traveled from each of the group members outside of the car to those who still remained in the van. He shifted atop his horse.
"Who are all these people, Paul?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Hi, Richard. Nice to see you," Jesus greeted with a step forward.
"It's good to see you too. Your friends, who are they?" Richard focused. Murphy didn't like the look of this guy.
Jesus pointed to Rick. "This is Rick Grimes. He's the leader of a like-minded community. These are some of his people. We would like to request an audience with King Ezekiel."
The older man, Richard, was stoic for a second before sliding off his horse. It was only then that the group caught sight of the handgun in his right palm. Murphy stepped back cautiously, and she bumped into Daryl's chest, not realizing that he had already made his way over to her from the van. Richard paced forward and peered into the van.
"Get out of the car," he commanded. The others did as they were told, and he turned back to Jesus. "You say they're a like-minded community. Like-minded, how?"
"We live, we trade, we fight the dead. Sometimes others."
Richard nodded and gestured before him. "Line up."
"Okay, this is a waste of time," Daryl grumbled beside Murphy, setting a gentle hand on her bicep. "C'mon, let's go."
Daryl's fingers slid from Murphy's flannel, but she stayed put.
"Maybe you're right," Richard continued. "The King is a busy man, and it's a dangerous world. We don't usually allow a pack of strangers to waltz through our door."
"We wanna make the world less dangerous, and we are all here to show the King..." Michonne hesitated for a moment. "... how serious we are about that."
A beat of silence passed before Richard nodded in understanding. "The car stays outside. You gotta hand over your guns."
"We only have two," Rick replied, unsheathing his pistol from its holster with ease while encouraging Carl to do the same.
Richard took the two guns in his grasp and held them close to his side as he backed away. "Okay. Follow me."
___
The walk to the Kingdom was lengthy enough that conversation ensued. Richard and Jesus spoke at the head of the migration, while Murph and Daryl kept to the back. She adjusted the bag on her shoulders and blew out a long nervous breath of air. Her gaze traveled from the back of Michonne's head to Daryl, beside her. She finally decided to speak up.
"Hey," she said softly, catching her lover's attention. "You doing okay?"
Daryl rubbed his hands on his back pockets and chewed on his bottom lip, sending her a quick glance. "Yeah. You?"
"I'm fine," she replied quickly. "I just— I'm ready to go home, you know?"
Daryl nodded and his head lowered. "Me, too."
But what was home? This thought infested their minds... it spread much like the virus that destroyed their world. Their little house with the green door no longer belonged to them, did it? And even if it did, nothing would go back to the way it was before. That regression terrified Murphy and Daryl to no end, because it was so good before. Everything was perfect. They had the white picket fence and a family to come home to. Would it ever be the same?
"I'm really glad you're back," Murphy whispered beneath her breath, eyes glossing over and cheeks reddening. "I wasn't myself after..."
Daryl couldn't help the smile of affection that crossed his face at her expression. His busted lip and bruised cheeks hurt as he did so, but he fought through the pain. He let his arm softly rest across her shoulders, pulling her close. "Me neither. I promised ya I'd come back. And I promise ya we're gonna win this. Whatever it takes."
Murphy nodded, gliding a hand up and down his back. She felt the lack of his wings and paused for a moment at their absence. She had rarely seen him without his vest. It was practically glued to his back. The Saviors had taken parts of him away from her, and for that, she would never forgive them. So she pressed a kiss to his shoulder— one so feather-light that he barely felt it— and continued their hopeful trek to this new community.
When they finally arrived at the Kingdom, it truly looked like something from a fairytale. The gates opened and welcomed them to a lush and plentiful society. Groups of soldiers jogged across the cement sidewalks. People picked vegetables in the flourishing gardens and hung laundry out to dry. Red brick buildings surrounded the town square; there were countless families scurrying about to get to their day-to-day activities.
Murphy turned to Rick, Michonne, and Daryl with a wide grin, muttering, "They have the numbers."
"But can they fight?" Rosita asked at her side.
Jesus smirked to himself. "Oh, they can fight."
"Maybe," Daryl replied adversely.
Murphy's gaze fell for a moment before noting the detached look on Rick's face. She followed his line of sight to see the police-looking group of men and women who ran together. She nudged his shoulder with hers.
"Familiar?"
The corners of Rick's mouth pulled upward. "A little."
Memories of the before times always came with mixed emotions. In the midst of Rick's remembering, another totem of his long journey made itself known. For someone who had been through so much, the past seemed to rear its head more often than not for the officer.
"Morgan?" Tara asked incredulously from behind them.
Everyone turned to see Rick's old friend... the only one who ended up agreeing with Murphy back before the war began. Murphy felt thankful that he was there, as the two of them agreed on many things. Tara walked forward to embrace Morgan and he succumbed to her, thankful for a friend's touch. Sasha was next to greet him with a hug and soft smile. When they pulled away, Morgan looked around at those who had come. Murphy sent him a smile of understanding and he replied with a kind nod.
"How do you know each other?" Richard asked.
Rick stared at Morgan with an indecipherable expression. "We go back to the start."
"Well, the King is ready to see you," Richard announced, leading them away to meet the man of the hour.
As soon as they entered the King's abode, Murphy stopped in her tracks. She had to blink a few times just to ensure she wasn't dreaming. In the theater room (ironic due to the blatant display of acting), there sat a man on a throne, center stage. But that was the most realistic part of it all. Chained, sitting beside him, was a tiger. An actual, grown tiger— something you would see in a zoo. Murphy didn't usually fear animals, but to see such a regal and powerful animal with no protection did give her pause. She and Daryl shared an utter look of confusion.
"Jesus!" the King announced, throwing his hands up in a grandiose manner. "It pleases me to see you, old friend."
"It pleases him indeed!" one of the men who stood beside the throne repeated, holding an axe in one hand while his free arm was out.
"Jerry," the King muttered to cease any outbursts from the man. He then turned back to his guests. "Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you've brought me?"
"Indeed, they are, Your Majesty," Jesus replied. "This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people."
Ezekiel nodded with a wide grin. "I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers. Now, what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the King?"
The group dispersed amongst the theater seats. Murphy set both hands on the velvety back of the chair before her as she observed the scene.
"Ezekiel," Rick began. "King Ezekiel... Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom— all three of our communities have somethin' in common. We all serve the Saviors. Alexandria already fought them once, and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them, that you know them. Then you know they rule through violence and fear."
Ezekiel's face darkened.
Jesus stepped forward and assured him. "Your Majesty, I only told them of the—"
"Our deal with the Saviors is not known among my people," Ezekiel interrupted, sternly. "For good cause. We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltop's own travails, but we did not expect you to share—"
"We can help each other!" Jesus announced.
"We brought you into our confidence," the King continued. "Why did you break it?"
Jesus let out a low breath of air before continuing positively. "Because I want you to hear Rick's plans."
The King shifted in his throne, preparing to listen intently. "And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?"
"We came to ask the Kingdom, to ask you, to join us in fighting the Saviors, fighting for freedom for all of us."
"What you are asking is very serious."
Michonne stepped forward, letting her voice be heard. "Several of our people— good people— were killed by the Saviors, brutally."
Murphy lowered her head. She couldn't help but relive the moment that changed all of their lives.
"Who?" Morgan asked from the side of the room.
The silence that flooded the space was deafening. Rick and Michonne couldn't find it within themselves to say the names, so Rosita took it upon herself.
"Abraham," she announced with hollow eyes and a venomous tone. "Glenn. Spencer. Olivia. Eugene was taken. They took Daryl. He escaped. Every second he's out here, he's a target. You gonna say you were right?"
Morgan nodded. His expression was blank, but his eyes flitted over to Murphy. They shared an unspoken look of mutual assuredness... that what they had stood for before all this was not wrong. But they were not all right. There had to be a balance, and they would work to find that balance before more blood was needlessly spent.
"No," Morgan replied gently. "I'm... I'm just real sorry they're gone."
The group had no reaction to his apologies. Daryl's eyes fell from Morgan to land on Murphy, staring at her intently while debating where she stood on everything after the lineup— after they'd seen their friends murdered before their eyes. She couldn't possibly still believe in passiveness... could she?
"Negan murdered Glenn and Abraham, beat 'em to death," Rick further explained, blinking to dispel the tears that immediately formed in his electric blue eyes.
"Terrorized the Hilltop," Sasha continued. "Set loose walkers just to make a point."
Jesus nodded in agreement. "I used to think the deal was something we could live with. A lot of us did. But that's changing. So let's change the world, your majesty."
"I wanna be honest about what we're asking," Rick prepared an explanation. "My people are strong, but there's not enough of us. We don't have guns— not enough, at least. Not a lot of weapons, period."
Richard looked between the group and his King, shifting in his spot in a way that made Murphy nervous. "We have people. And weapons. If we strike first, together, we can beat them. Your majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse beyond what we can handle. We set things right. The time is now."
The King, as well as everyone else in the room, pondered the words that had been spoken carefully. Ezekiel's eyes fell upon the lonely man in the corner, trapped by the severity of the situation and the brink of destructive war.
"Morgan," the King commanded his attention. "What say you?"
Morgan stared as a response in confusion. "Me?"
The King sent him a singular nod. "Speak."
Morgan crossed his arms and thought deeply for a moment. Murphy watched carefully.
"People will die," the pacifist began. "A lot of people, and not just the Saviors. It... If we can find another way, we have to. Maybe it's just about Negan. Just capturing him, holding him. Maybe— I..."
As Morgan trailed off, looking at Murphy expectantly, she didn't know what to say. Any words that formulated in her mind fell short of the emotions that she felt within her heart. She didn't trust herself. But her silence felt more like betrayal than caution in a time like this.
"The hour grows late," the King announced as he stood from his throne with a growl from the tiger. "Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the King much to ponder."
A panic emanated from within Rick. He stepped forward in a final effort to convince the royal to side with them.
"Well, when I was a kid, my mother told me a story. There was a road to a kingdom, and there was a rock in the road. And people would just avoid it, but horses would break their legs on it and die, wagon wheels would come off. People would lose the goods they'd be coming to sell. That's what happened to a little girl. The cask of beer her family brewed fell right off. It broke. Dirt soaked it all up, and it was gone. That was her family's last chance. They were hungry. They didn't have any money. She just... sat there and cried, but... she wondered why it was still there... for it to hurt someone else. So she dug at that rock in the road with her hands till they bled, used everything she had to pull it out. It took hours. And then... when she was gonna fill it up, she saw somethin' in it. It was a bag of gold. The king had put that rock in the road because he knew the person who dug it out, who did somethin', they deserved a reward. They deserved to have their life changed for the good... forever."
The King thought deeply about Rick's speech, searching around the room as if the looks on his guests' faces would give him answers to these riddles. "I invite you all to sup with us and stay 'till the morrow. I shall deliver my decree in the morn."
And with two bangs of his staff on the broad wooden stage, the plea for help had ended.
___
"That King's full o' shit," Daryl grumbled.
The people of the Kingdom had more than enough rooms to spare for their new guests. Of course, Murphy and Daryl opted to stick together, as they had a lot to discuss and found comfort in each others' presence. The room was warm and dimly lit with candles as night fell upon the community. Cicadas buzzed in the thick forest outside their window, and it felt safe. For the first time in a long time, Murphy felt as though she could breathe for a moment.
"Yeah," Murphy replied softly as she rid herself of her bag and knife. "But, I think people look to figures like him. Even if it's a fantasy, he gives them something to unite under... you know?"
Daryl scoffed, pacing about the room and looking through the sheer curtains, as if fearful of some hidden threat. "Ain't got time for goddamn fairytales. Rick's wastin' his breath. I say we drive right up to the sanctuary gates with what we got and destroy 'em. No questions asked. They had their chance."
"Daryl..." Murphy sighed as she peeled the sweaty flannel from her shoulders.
"Nah," Daryl shook his head, anger flaring up in his eyes once more. "You saw what they did to Glenn. You fuckin' saw. So don' you tell me they deserve any respect."
"I'm not saying—"
"You agree with Morgan. I saw it in your eyes, Murph."
Murphy stared at him with an indecipherable expression. She raised her hands to run across her face and glide through her stringy hair in exhaustion. Daryl sat on the edge of the bed with his head resting in his palms. He hissed at the feeling of pressure against his bruised skin, and Murphy instinctually lifted her gaze at his noise of pain. She walked over and gently took his hand, encouraging him to follow her into the bathroom. Murphy pushed him to sit upon the closed toilet as she rummaged through her pack. She carried an emergency first-aid kit— a habit that Daryl had always found adorable.
"Ya still carry that thing with you?" he whispered through a soft smile, already guilty for raising his voice at her moments ago.
Murphy nodded with a somber grin. "Everywhere. Never know when you're gonna need it."
"Hmm," Daryl hummed, staring at his fiddling fingers as he picked at his dirty nails.
Murphy wet a cotton pad with alcohol and moved to stand before him. Her fingers found their way under his scruffy chin, forcing him to look up at her. His eyes fell everywhere but her.
"Look at me," she spoke, running the pad across the cuts that littered his skin.
He winced at the stinging pain, but finally forced himself to lock eyes with the woman he loved. Oh, he would never grow tired of that look. Her green eyes, endless and everlasting, made her wise beyond her years but as youthful as the spring gardens. She stared at him with such concern that he felt that familiar spread of warmth across his chest, pooling in his stomach. And even though he was pushing fifty, she never failed to make him feel like a giddy schoolboy again. But those carefree memories soon passed as he remembered why they were there. The soft smile that played upon his lips soon fell as she continued to mend his countless wounds.
"Negan deserves to be punished. So do the people who did this to you. I wanna see them pay," Murphy promised as one hand ran through his brown locks, her eyes still focused on her work. "But there are people there who... they may not have been given a second chance, like you and me. Maybe they need us. We can't let them pay for our mistakes, or- or for being so afraid they settled for Negan's shitty way of life. Not everyone's as lucky as us."
"Lucky?" Daryl asked quietly, yet with such despair that Murphy stopped what she was doing to look deep into his eyes, swirling with hurt. "The things we lost, Murph... the things we been through, that ain't luck. We worked for this life. We survived 'cause we fought for it. Those people, they got it all 'cause they cheat and steal. You work your way to the top 'cause you treat others like shit. They locked me in a cell... fed me dog food."
Murphy swallowed the cries that caught in her throat and worked to force down the tears that welled along her lashes. "I just— I don't want us to lose anyone else."
Daryl nodded wordlessly. Murphy sniffed. She set down the cotton pad and pushed his hair away from his shoulders, noting that it had grown rather long. Bruises lined the space between his neck and shoulders. She pulled his black shirt away from his neckline and noticed the darkening colors— hues of purple, green, and black— that littered his skin.
"Oh, my god," she whispered in horror as she slowly unbuttoned the shirt he wore.
Murphy crouched before Daryl, working her way down the shirt until it had been entirely undone. She aided him to slide the shirt off of his arms. He groaned in pain at the action. That was when Murphy saw the true extent of his injuries. The marks on his torso were evidently from blunt force trauma; from repetitive beatings that colored him blue. There were gashes and cuts not yet scabbed over. These wounds, atop the scars he already bore from his past, sent her over the edge. Tears spilled freely down Murphy's freckled cheeks and the hand that covered her lips could not silence the sobs.
"Murph," Daryl tried, but his voice broke. His hands lifted from his lap to rest upon her hips. "Darlin', it's okay. I'm home."
"This isn't home," Murphy frantically wiped away the tears. "And you're hurt."
"'Course it is. I'm with ya," Daryl promised, letting his hands affectionately run over the swell of her hips. "Coulda been worse."
"Shut up," Murphy sputtered. She stepped forward to pull Daryl's head closer to her, embracing him against her torso. One of her hands rested upon the back of his head, running fingers through his hair, while the other drew circles on his bare shoulder. Her soft palm ran over the gnarled scars and bumps between his shoulder blades, and Daryl melted against her. His arms enveloped her hips and his cheek pressed against her stomach. And in this moment— in warmth and love in its most primal form— he broke.
After all the pain and guilt that he had experienced, he made it back. Murphy felt his tears wet her shirt, but she only pulled him closer against her. His shoulder's shook with repressed cries. And although they disagreed and did not know what the future might hold for them, one thing was certain: nothing felt more right than being in the arms of the one you love. Nothing.
And they would both fight like hell in their own ways to ensure this moment was theirs forever.
AUTHOR'S NOTE — AHHHHHHHH I'M SORRY I'M SO BAD AT UPDATING AND THAT THIS CHAPTER WAS SO LONG AND BORING ABIHDIJAKDNSA I'M SORRY 😭 there was so much grueling and tedious plot advancement i had to get through in this chapter and i was just not having it, lmao. but hopefully that final scene kind of made up for it? but omg... next chapter is going to be a GREAT one. tons and tons of murph's character nuances along with tons and tons of murph x daryl ;) hopefully that will come out sooner rather than later because it's now summer. thank you guys so, so much for sticking with me despite everything. i hope that this story is continuing to do you good. don't forget to comment feedback... it means the world and it's so motivating to see your thoughts. love you all to the moon and back <3