Murphy knows it's early when she wakes up, because there are no sounds coming from any of the cells around her, only the faint sound of snoring from down the hall reaches her. There's a slight pain in her palm, and she unclenches her hand to find the rosary; Connor's rosary that Daryl handed to her last night. She'd slept with it clenched tight in her fist, causing indentations across the soft skin. The dream lingers in her eyes, the redness of Daryl's skin; the despair in Connor's eyes as they stand face to face with uncertainty stretched out before them.

At first, nothing about the dream made any sense. She had been sitting in some sort of makeshift stadium, lots of other people sitting around her and cheering. A man had been stood in the middle, like a ringmaster at a circus, though she couldn't hear what he was saying over the loud thrum of voiced around her. Two men were brought out, their heads covered with muslin bags and the crowd cheered even louder. It was only when the bags were pulled of their heads that Murphy recognized who they were; Daryl and Connor And it was only then that she heard what the man was saying. Fight to the death,he had said smiling, making the crowd cheer like they were watching this on television. When Connor threw the first punch, she jolted awake.

It sickens her, that her mind would show her anything of the sort. She wonders that if Connor was alive, had he had the same dream. When they first had the same dream, at the age of twelve, Connor thought it was the best thing in the world. They'd woken up at the same time, down to the second, and told each other the same dream. It was apparently something that happened to twins every now and again, a rarity according to the doctor.

Murphy clears the awful dream from her head, praying to God like she did every morning that Connor was alive and well. She didn't have to pray for Daryl anymore, because he was alive. The feeling she'd got when his arms wrapped around her was indescribable, she'd longed to find him like she had her brother. She's just always thought she'd find them together. She glances down at the tattoos scribed on her hands, the word veritas being her only connection to her brother at the moment. Ma had been livid, apparently tattoos weren't for girls, but the three of them did everything together she couldn't not have one. She loved it anyway, the two words scribed over her trigger finger on each hand. Daryl had gotten aéquitas, Connor had gotten veritas and she herself had gotten both, tying her to both her brothers.

Quiet footsteps pull Murphy from her trance; she glances towards the opening to her cell to see Daryl leaning against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. She thinks back to the time she saw him in that way. They were celebrating their seventeenth birthday at McGinty's, and Doc had hired a new barmaid. Of course, with his good looks and charm, Daryl was able to chat her up and make it look effortless. That night Murphy tried not to think about Daryl's soft lips on her neck as she downed another beer.

"Nice sleep?" Daryl asks, his voice groggy from sleep. Murphy wants to tell him about the dream, but she's used to them, so she decides against it.

"Best in ages, sure it's ok for m t'stay?"

"Don't start that Murph, you know I ain't going to let you leave me, only jus' got you back" Murphy feels the warmth of his words seep into her cold bones, because it's what always happened to her when he said something like it. The Daryl affect, is what her Ma used to call it.

They go down to breakfast together and the others, more alert than last night, make an effort to talk to her. Beth sidles up to her and sits next to her while they're eating, bumping Judith on her knee. The two talk for only a few minutes, but it's in those few minutes that they both feel a sense of normality, they chat about hair and what school was like. Beth hadn't had a chance to finish school, and Murphy tells her she probably isn't losing out if her school was anything like hers.

The normality is shattered a few minutes later, when Rick stands up to talk about the days plans. The daily watch is issued in shifts, and Rick tells Murphy he will join her for today to get the feel of the prison before being properly put into the rota tomorrow. When Murphy looks at Daryl, there's a hesitant look on his face. He's going on a hunt, and she can tell he's worried that he'll get back and she won't be here. So when he goes outside to his bike, she wraps her arms around his waist.

"I'll be ere' when you get back, don' worry bout' tha'" Murphy whispers so Rick can't hear but Daryl can, and he squeezes her a little tighter.

+
"M' sorry for tryin' t' kill you" Murphy says to Rick in a quiet voice when they're up in the watch tower. Rick turns to her with a gentle smile on his face and he nudges her slightly with his elbow.

"That's ok; I'd have probably done that same if I was in your position"

"Was gon' shoot you if Daryl hadn't appeared"

"You were?"

"Aye. You coulda' been kickin' the shit outta me and I wouldnt'a shot until he said so" Murphy explains, because it's the truth mostly. Unless Daryl was the one being kicked in, she wouldn't shoot someone he loved. It's the reason why Merle never felt her wrath all those times back in Boston.

"He means a lot to you then"

"Course, grew up with im'. No one else like Daryl, sent me mad thinkin' he and Con were dead" Murphy goes quiet, thinking about Connor and her dream.

"Daryl's sure done a lot for us. Don't know how any of us would have stayed sane without him. But I'll admit, he's a hard nut to crack" Murphy looks at Rick, because yes, Daryl is. But only to strangers, those who don't know about his father and the lesions that stretch across his back as a constant reminder.

"Aye, but ya aven't had twenty years with im' like I av'. More to im' than meets the eye, as me Ma use t' say. On tha' outside, he's tough. Seems like nothin' can get im' bu' i'll tell ya', tha' man's seen more than ya'd think" Murphy remembers the first time she saw the scars that coated his skin like skid marks, she and Connor had gasped but they never spoke about it. It wasn't until their Ma noticed the large purple bruise on his arm that they realised what was going on.

"Daryl never mentioned you or Connor, at least I don't remember him doing so" Rick says quietly.

"Couldn'ta' bear bein' apart. He wouldn'ta anyway, not if he'd had a fight wi' Connor. Two of em' can't back down, s'there trouble"

"Yesterday, you seemed to know what they fought about right away. How's that?"

"Was about me" Murphy sighs, casting her mind back to when she and Daryl had their own argument, it was long coming and unavoidable.

"Daryl and I, we slept together when we was young, knew it was gon' appen' someday, just din't know when. Trouble bein', we kept it from Connor. We dain't wanna' hurt im', he'd av' found it weird, his sis and best mate sleepin' together so we dain't tell im'. It carried on for a few years, ended up fallin' for im'. Daryl wanted to tell Connor, I dain't. So I left, brought Ma to Atlanta for a trip, never made it back. Apparently, Daryl told Connor while I was away, s'what they fought about. Wouldn'ta been any different if I'da been there, but would'a made me feel better"

"I'm sorry you weren't with your brother when all this happened, you shoulda' been" Rick says, patting Murphy's arm gently.

Murphy stares at the walker, as Daryl and Rick called them, and watches as it shakes the fence trying to get in. She wonders what she'd have done if she'd have found Connor or Daryl as one of them, whether she'd have what it takes to kill them.