#themurphy

(i still don't know how tumblr rlly works so i lost your ask otherwise i would have replied to it here!! sry love!! hope u enjoyyyy)

wc: 2.4k

⌞ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ... murphy is reunited with an old... friend? acquaintance? fling? neither of them really knows ⌝

--Kittery, Maine. Day One.

Portsmouth Naval Prison was no joke. Sure, it didn't house the worst of the worst within its barbed wire-tipped walls, but that didn't mean it wasn't any less ruthless.

It was petty criminals, mostly. Tax evasion, assault, breaking and entering, and smuggling. The truth? Most of their inmates thought they were scarier than they were. But one inmate in particular - Alvin Murphy - didn't think he was nearly as scary as he was.

At least, to her.

While she didn't show it, his deadly charm and even deadlier reputation as being a self-serving bastard - spiked her anxiety tenfold.

Whether he was winking at her as she led him from his cell to the recreation area for his outdoor time, or flashing her a grin whenever he deigned to use the workout facility, Alvin Murphy terrified her.

Or, rather, the idea of her attitude toward him terrified her.

(y/n) was not a gentle woman. The only woman at Portsmouth Naval, she had learned very on that gentleness would get you killed - or worse. Being a guard didn't help either. There was a constant target on her back, one that seemed a little more pronounced when he was around.

She'd caught his piercing blue eyes on her more times than she cared to admit, and each was received with a glare summoned from the very bottom of her heart.

She meant her glares. Each and every one of them. Or, at least, that's what she told herself.

Her heart raced as she stood guard over their recreation area, where the man sat playing cards with a few other inmates. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion as she watched him.

They were betting with something that she couldn't see from here, not as she was also trying to watch the other inmates as well. Her partner had went back inside to answer a distress call on the radio, and hadn't come out since.

The sun was slowly beginning to shift closer towards the horizon, signaling to the inmates it was almost time to head back in. She mentally prepared herself, resting a hand on her gun.

Serving for ten years leaves old habits that die hard, that's for sure.

The heavy metal door leading back into the prison slammed open against the brick exterior, startling the guard. She immediately spun to face the source of the noise, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

Her partner stumbled out, looking worse for wear.

"Hey, are you alright?" She knelt down where he'd fallen, noticing the blood staining his clothes. Behind him, multiple inmates and a few other guards came rushing out.

She watched with wide eyes as they came flooding out, most of them covered in blood. Her weapon was out in an instant, its safety out. This was a riot.

Her partner suddenly stirred with a guttural groan that didn't quite sound human and stood on his feet. The guard, frozen in fear, raised her weapon at the quickly-approached flood of bodies.

"Stop!" She shouted over the groans and howls of the people. No, something was wrong. "Everyone on your knees! Now!"

Her voice reached no ears, and she stood paralyzed as one inmate - bloody, like the others - latched himself onto another. Blood sprayed her uniform as he tore a chunk from their neck, sending gore flying.

(y/n) stumbled back, away from the creatures with a cry. More cries resounded in the courtyard from the other inmates.

What the hell was going on?

She risked a look towards the picnic table, seeing Murphy's eyes wide with fear.

"RUN!" She shouted over the noise, before firing her weapon at the violent crowd. Whatever they had become, they definitely weren't human.

And Murphy?

Murphy watched his favorite guard - who he knew hated him - defend these inmates, who would have let her die in a second. But she was fighting to protect them.

She fired her weapon into the mass of monsters and one fell dead at her feet. For a minute, he was frozen. He'd seen her in the same outfit - pressed guard's uniform and boots - for two years. Her hair was always pulled back without imperfections, and she was beautiful. An idiot could it. Way too pretty to be stuck in this place with them. But hey, he was just grateful for something pretty - besides himself - to look at.

But now, her face covered in blood and her eyes wide with fear as she shot at her former teammates?

Well, she was a damned goddess. Even as the zombies - as he later found out they were - killed her.

Or so he thought.

-- Altura. Voting Day.

The ex-military tapped her foot impatiently, her heavy black boot the only thing punctuating the silence. The vote was to be cast today, and they just got word of a new batch of survivors being brought in from outside.

On today, of all days? Shit, she'd have her work cut out for her.

Between being George's right-hand woman and leading her forces, settling with petty squabbles between talker and human, AND on top of keeping the peace during voting, she now had to deal with this.

They were currently getting checked out, but she'd caught wind from one of the nurses down at the gate that one of them was red - like the devil.

Weird.

Being such high-priority personnel, (y/n) was given the opportunity to cast her vote before polls officially opened, since she was going to be busy dealing with the chaos that would surely ensue.

She crossed her arms with a huff, waiting for the person to hurry up and pick yes or no already. It had been way longer than they needed. Finally, she slammed her fist against the door of the voting room.

"Do you mind? Some of us have places to be. Just pick already!"

Her tone was short, annoyance seeping into every syllable. This far into apocalypse, she didn't have the patience for this kind of bullshit. Her fucks had run out before the undead took over the world, and now she had none left to give.

Unfortunate for everyone around her, sure.

For her? Well, this was just reality.

The door finally opened to reveal a very angry-looking squad member from another team. From Pacifica, guessing from the emblem on her jacket.

"Impatient, much?"

"Indecisive, much?" (y/n) sneered back, before slamming the door.

Vote now cast, the team leader could head down to join her team at the polls in the main building. She took her usual shortcut, across the metal catwalk and down the "emergency exit" staircase.

Emergency exit, her ass.

She entered the rowdy haul silently. Years of apocalypse had taught her to be quiet. But there was no distracting from her commanding presence as she moved to stand by George.

Her friend cast her a small smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Glad you could make it!"

(y/n) suppressed a grin at her friend's welcome, settling for a nod instead as she observed the crowd carefully. Looking for danger or opposition.

"Yeah, me too."

"You voted?"

"Yep."

George's hope was contagious - that was how she'd roped (y/n) into starting Newmerica with her in the first place. Watching the crowd, her heart warmed with the prospect of a safe place, away from the horrors of the apocalypse.

It was about time she had the chance for a little bit of peace. Ever since that day at Portsmouth, her entire life had been a cortisol, fight-or-flight fever dream.

But today, maybe that was over.

A new crowd of people entered the hall, and (y/n) frowned as the back of her neck suddenly prickled. The room seemed smaller, somehow.

A familiar fear crept up the base of her spine, licking at her fingertips that clenched into anxious fists. She scanned the crowd more actively now, eyes darting from figure to figure.

"Oh, I totally forgot," George suddenly piped up. "An old friend of mine from Black Summer - right before I met you - showed up today. With some friends."

"That's nice, George," she replied distractedly, still searching the crowd. Her heart was pounding anxiously in her chest. But why?

"Yeah, they came in with that weird, red guy Janet was telling you about."

(y/n)'s gaze quickly darted to her friend once more. "Red guy?"

"Calls himself 'Murphy'. I guess they've been together a long time. There was... tension between them." Her dark eyebrows waggled a little before she raised a hand.

A dark-haired woman in the crowd, raised hers back in response, giving a wave. (y/n) looked at the figure behind her and-

No.

No. No. No. No.

Fuck.

"Please don't be him, please don't be him," (y/n) muttered under her breath, feeling a fresh wave of that icy-cold fear wash over her body.

"Warren! Murphy! Come join us."

(y/n) kept her gaze locked firmly on the woman, refusing to acknowledge the man beside her. She'd caught a glimpse when he wasn't paying attention, and that was enough for her.

He was red, that was for sure. But damn it, only Alvin Murphy could make red skin like the devil look good. And did it ever look good on him. His suit didn't help, either.

The prisoner she knew was gone, but then again, the guard he knew was gone too.

"Nice to meet you," Warren - the woman - gave her a salute, which she returned.

"You too."

"What, nothing for me?" Murphy appeared in her vision, leaning closer to force her to look at him. His mouth was curved up into a smirk, like he knew all too well what she was thinking.

What she was feeling.

"Not even a 'i missed you'?"

(y/n) glared at him, having to look up a little to meet his eyes, which were alight with amusement. This bastard was enjoying this! Of course he was, she thought wryly.

"I'm not a liar," she replied with false sweetness, crossing her arms. "So I won't tell you I missed you, Murphy." His grin widened.

"You two know each other?" George looked between them, observing (y/n)'s glare levelled in the newcomer's direction.

"No," The woman said quickly, eyes darting to her friend.

"We're old friends," Murphy amended, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Will you excuse us?"

Ignoring her protests, the man led her outside into an abandoned hall, where it was quiet. She grit her teeth, letting him think he had control.

The second they weren't around any witnesses, (y/n) pushed her forearm against his throat and forced him against the wall. Rough enough that he gasped, but didn't look afraid.

No, if anything - he looked excited.

"What the fuck was that?" She hissed, anger contorting her features. "You think we're friends? We were never friends, Murphy." He chuckled, a red hand raised to brush a stray lock of her from her face.

"We weren't? Still playing hard to get, I see."

She increased the pressure on his windpipe, which shut him up pretty quick. He tapped her shoulder a few times, and she reluctantly released him. Just a little.

"How are you alive?" She asked incredulously, suspicion evident in the pull of her brows. "Portsmouth was overrun, they told me everybody died."

He brushed invisible lint from his shoulder with a flourish. "Not everybody, sweetheart."

"Don't. Call. Me. That." She grit her teeth, ignoring the rush of warmth that was definitely not fear.

"Or what?" His mouth twitched with barely-contained amusement. "You'll hit me, Miss Guard?"

She flashed him a sweet smile before stepping back, needing some distance between them. "You really don't want to find out. Now, stay away from me, or you will be finding out."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that she knew would be stuck in her head all day long. And maybe all night, too. It had been so long since she'd heard it, it was sure to be stuck in her head for longer than she would ever admit to anyone.

"Maybe I want to find out," he replied coolly, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. She turned on her heel to stride away from him, needing some fresh air while he mind reeled.

A rough tug on her wrist forced her to turn back to look at him. She groaned in frustration. "What do you want, Murphy?"

He paused, seeming unsure for the first time during their reunion. Like he wasn't sure what he wanted, only that she was involved. "I..."

"Come on, spit it out," she quipped.

He cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her wrist, enough to still have an excuse to touch her - proof that she was really here. Alive.

"I wanted to thank you," he began slowly, watching confusion take over her features. The apocalypse had done wonders for her, and his eyes trailed over the scar marring her face as he wondering who did it to her.

And, more importantly, where he could find them to make them pay for harming her.

"For saving me. That day, in Portsmouth. You saved me."

She scoffed, brushing it off. "I didn't do that just to save you. But... it looks like you're the only one that made it out alive."

He nodded grimly. "Long story short: everyone croaked and turned Z, which left yours truly to graciously sacrifice himself for the good of humanity."

She gave him a flat look, unimpressed. "So, to translate: they tied you down and forced you? That sounds a little more accurate." He paused, letting out a brief, indignant laugh.

"No, no, I'm telling you-"

The man halted in his tracks. (y/n) had finally cracked a smile, the first one he'd seen her sport in years. And the first one he'd seen that he was the cause of.

Pride stirred in his chest.

"Uh-huh. Sure." She shook her head and pulled from his grasp, still smiling a little as she left him standing in the hall. She paused at the door and turned to look at him.

"Hey, Murphy?"

He raised his head immediately at her voice, hopefulness evident. "Yes, (y/n)?"

She winked at him. "It's good to see you."

The door slammed behind her, leaving the man to mull over what just happened. His heart, which the vaccine had always made to feel more like a lump in his chest, was racing.

He felt alive - for the first time in a long time. He might have been halfway to being a zombie, but he sure as hell didn't feel like it.

He felt human.

--

NOTE;

i did not mean for it to be that long but i got carried away LOL i actually love Murphy(when he isn't hurting my man 10k) hehe

should i make a part 2?

-vg.