A/N- This was actually a RP post that I turned into a one shot. I roleplay Murphy in The Walking Dead, verse and this was a dream he had about his brother. Find my RPG on Twitter at SaintAequitas if ya like.

Warning: Character Deaths.

He had been separated from his brother. They had made it all the way to Atlanta, barricaded themselves in a church. They had both been scared, praying to the Lord for safety, guidance and strength. They had been over run, walkers forced them apart, Murphy screamed, Connor yelled. Before they were broken apart, Murphy yelled for Connor to meet him three blocks away, "AYE!" a panic filled scream came from Connor. That was the last time Murphy saw Connor, the last time he had heard his voice.

Murphy had made it back into the city a week later; Connor never showed up to the meeting place. Murphy had been relentless in his search for his brother; he wasn't fucking leaving without him. Murphy had made his way back to the church, he would turn Atlanta upside down to find Connor.

He approached the doors to the church, desert eagle in one hand. Quietly he pushed open the door, pointing his eagle back and forth, calling out to Connor softly. He ignored the pain in his chest, the voice that told him his brother was dead. That wasn't possible, Murphy would be dead to. No, Connor was alive.

Quietly Murphy made his way into the church. Walking the main aisle, he stopped, there on the steps of the alter was figure kneeling. Murphy's eyes had hope, as he approached, the moonlight in the window shinning on the figures tattooed neck. The desert eagles lying next to him and the pea coat, it was Connor.

He rushes up the aisle of the church, eyes hazy with tears. There he was, alive. He hits his knees next to Connor, looking at his brother. Connor's head turns towards him, eyes cloudy, bloody face, the flesh that was once Connor's throat was gone, in its place, raw rotting flesh. Connor growled, lunged for him.

Murphy was knocked to the floor, screaming Connor's name a she struggled. Connor growled, snapping at Murphy. Murphy tried to push him off. The faded "Veritas" tattoo pressed into Murphy before he kicked Connor off him.

Connor tried to bite him, he reached for his gun, not taking his eyes off Connor. Why? Why did God take him from Murphy? Was this his punishment? He killed in the name of God, now was this was his punishment. God taking the other half of his soul, the other piece of his heart. Connor lunges at Murphy, Murphy throws Connor off him, rolling over to put the gun to Connor's head as he growled and snapped. He knew what he had to do, had no choice. He never thought he would have to shoot his own brother, spill the same blood that ran through his veins. He cried as he put the gun to Connor's head.

"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord for Thee Power hath descended forth from Thy hand"

He choked through tears.

"That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be."

He stared at the shell of his brother, tears running down his face as he whispered.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

He pulled the trigger, silencing Connor forever. He cried out, falling to his hands and knees.

"NO! NO!"

He screamed as he pulled Connor's lifeless body into his arms, cradling it as his body shook with the force of the tears spilling, dripping down his cheeks to Connor's head, like the night of their "baptism".

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me brother. Forgive me, forgive me." He mumbled.

He rocked back and forth, hands and face covered by Connor's blood spatter. He wiped the blood from Connor's face with the sleeve of his coat.

"I love you. Please, forgive me.

His please, turning incoherent.

"Wasn' pose ta be dis way. Yer not pose ta leave me." He cried harder. "We're supposed ta go together.

Gripping Connor tighter, burying his face in Connor's neck.

"Ye can't leave me all alone. How am I supposed ta live without me other half? NOT THIS WAY!

He growled in anger, his cries echoing through the empty church. He lifts his head, he hears a noise. Through his tears, he lifts his eagle looking around. He still cradled Connor as if he needed to protect him. Tears stream down Murphy's face as he holstered his eagle. He stands, holding Connor in his arms. He walks towards the alter, slowly climbing the stairs. Under the feet of the large Jesus statue, he laid his brothers body.

He kneels down, slipping Connor's rosary from his neck, replacing it with his own as he slipped Connor's rosary around his neck. He closed his brother's eyes, kissing his forehead as he did. Murphy mumbles, it was in Irish Gaelic. Translating into, "I love you brother, forgive me. Be with you soon."

He wouldn't kill himself, suicide was a sin, Connor wouldn't want that. But he was dead inside, his body numb, heart, broken. He had nothing now; he was dead inside, his body numb, heart, broken. He had nothing now. Murphy stood towering over his brother, eyes locked on the statue of Jesus as he spoke, clutching Connor's rosary.

"Please, take care of me brother. Tell 'em I love him, I miss him. Tell 'em he was older, I always knew. He protected me, took care o' me. Always put me b'fore himself, even when we were little, t'was always me causin' trouble. Connor would come, grab me hand an pull me from under whatever tidal wave I was under. He'd always mumble "Fuckin' Murphy." He says crossing himself for cursing in church. "I never told 'em that. Never admitted, he was older. Tell Ma an Da I'm sorry, sorry I couldn' protect me brother like I should of. I'm sorry…" He whispered. "Tell 'em I love 'em all." He added.

Tears streamed down Murphy's face, his heart hurt, felt like it was going to burst through his chest at any moment. It was like he was fighting against some invisible force, drawing him back to Connor as he tried to back down from the alter. He was racked with sobs, his whole body trembled. He was all alone, for the first time in his thirty five years, he was alone.

That's when he heard it, the growl echo through the church. Through his tears he un-holstered his guns, raising them as he looked around. He slowly backed down the aisle of the church, trying to pin point where the noise had come from. He barely had time to move when a sharp pain shot through his neck. "FUCK" he yelled, turning his body to knock the walker behind him in the head. His senses were dulled, he hadn't been on the top of his game, if he had ben he wouldn't have gotten bitten.

Maybe in a way this is what he wanted; on some level maybe he wanted this to give him a reason to join his family. Murphy shot the walker as it lunged for him as he held his neck. He growled, still gripping his neck, blood pouring between his fingers. He was getting weaker by the second, pain coursed through his body. This was pain he had never felt before.

His he stumbled, dropping his guns as he did. He didn't want to die here; no he had to get to Connor's side. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards the alter. He breathed heavy, slowly crawling towards Connor. Part of him didn't want to die this way. Not him. He was supposed to live for Connor. His body gave out and he fell down on his back, next to Connor.

Darkness was starting to consume him; he knew he didn't have much time. Knew he would soon he'd meet his brother again. He laced his fingers with Connor's. "Veritas & Aequitas" intertwined, together once more. He used his free hand to grab Connor's gun from its holster. He lays his head back, the darkness had already taken his vision, things were blurry, he could barely make out the face of the Jesus statue.

That's when he saw it, the bright light, the warm sensation against his cooling cheek. He forced his eyes to focus as he gasped for air. The light got closer, it was Connor's face he saw over him, Connor's hand on his cheek.

"Come home, brother. Come home ta me. Tis time, tis ok, let go. We've done our work, now tis time ta be at peace, safe in tha kingdom of tha Lord, sitting among his Saints." Connor's voice whispered.

"For-For-Forgive…m-m-me…" Murphy choked out.

"Shhh, nothin' ta forgive. I love ya brother, I'll be waitin'." Connor's voice whispered.

Murphy nodded, his breath was labored. He placed the gun to his head with the last bit of strength he had, could of sworn he could feel Connor's lips on his forehead, eyes boring into his, praying with him for God's forgiveness. Prayer he understood Murphy didn't want to be a monster. Murphy's lips formed a smile that matched the vision of Connor's as he pulled the trigger.

Darkness, silence and the eerie vision of the Saints, hands intertwined, faces turned towards each other laying under the feet of Jesus. Truth and Justice reunited for all eternity.

A/N- Sorry! In the roleplay verse, Connor isn't dead, neither is Murphy if it makes you feel better. J