#xkeepxonxsurvivingx

((OOC: @xkeepxonxsurvivingx))

The Doctor was crashing, nothing new to him of course, it seemed to happen to him a lot.  But this time was different.  "The walls are breaking,“ he thought as he looked at the TARDIS console screen, “I’m traveling between universes.  This can’t be.”

Eventually, it all stopped.  The lights when out and the TARDIS was quiet.  "The TARDIS is out of energy,“ he thought, “I need to restore it, but I need to figure out where I’m at first.”  The Doctor looked outside.  The outside of the TARDIS was a bit burned up.  “It probably caught fire upon atmosphere entry,” he thought, “The shields did go down fairly early.”  He went back inside.  He fiddled with the console, but nothing would turn on.  “Well, perhaps I should get on that whole figuring out where I am thing,” he thought and went outside once more.

The air smelled different.  It still smelled like he was on Earth, but there was an extra scent to it, one he didn’t recognize.  “It smells, weird.  Something is off.”  It looked fairly normal until he noticed something approaching.  "That can’t be right,“ he thought as what looked like a man approached.  He could tell it was different.  "No life signs,” the Doctor thought as he looked at the sonic.  The zombie came closer and closer and the Doctor could tell it wouldn’t end well.  He ran in another direction as another walker approached.  He finally saw a little cave and crawled into it and waited.  He waited for about 20-30 minutes, although he had lost track of time.  He finally walked out and hadn’t even left the cave when he noticed a woman pointing a gun at him.

Two hesitated between drawing his gun and raising his hands in submission. He didn’t speak, despite the fact that doing so could be his saving grace. Charisma was just as important as perfect aim in this world, and Two had yet to perfect either. Two opted to raise his arms, showing that he didn’t intend to hurt the woman that stood in front of him, looking at her through locks of dark hair that fell in front of his eyes (one of which was clouded, a clear indication that he had lost sight in it long ago). She didn’t look like the shoot on sight kind of person.

“Who did this to you?” Sleipnir asked bluntly. 

The silence seemed to be much more painful now that Glenn was gone. Much more POIGNANT. It was like a knife cutting through their entire group, but Rick had to imagine it cut the deepest on Maggie.

How could it not?

“I’m asking you - reconsider. You know life would be better without the Saviors.”

     — Waves of pain crashed over Murphy's senses, causing his stomach to roil with nausea and his vision to blur as the threat of fainting became all too real. The torture had gone on for three days before his capturers had given up and let him go. Obviously, in the shape he was in they hadn't expected that he'd get very far before succumbing to his injuries or becoming a meal for the undead— which was still a VERY real possibility if he didn't find shelter soon, and so he continued on, too stubborn to give up on the will to live.

Darkness was beginning to settle in the sky like a velvety blanket filled with glittering stars when he saw the low fire crackling a little distance away in a clearing. John had two options: press on and likely die by walker or his injuries, or risk everything and see how friendly the lone survivor was that he could see sitting near the fire. Better to be shot dead than eaten alive any day. And so he FORCED himself into movement again— just as a growling gurgle announced the presence of the undead. Murphy had no time to react before the THING was on him, knocking him to the ground. His skull connected with something with an audible THWACK!— a rock? Fallen tree trunk? It was too dark to tell. Ears ringing and defensive motions clumsy at best, he struggled to stay conscious AND fight off the animated corpse, vision blurring and strength already waning. It was then that he caught a glimpse of her. Watching with his good eye— the other nearly swollen shut— as the blade from Becca's knife plunged into the walker's skull with a satisfying yet sickening sound. Sweet relief flooded his senses in that moment, even as he held a hand up as if telling her to keep her distance, fear, exhaustion and gratitude warring in his bloodied features. "Please— don’t— " Murphy managed to get out, voice hoarse from overuse and stormy blues begging. He didn't get to finish his sentence however before the adrenaline keeping him awake ran out and he simply collapsed backward in the leaves and dirt with a faint exhale of breath, unconscious.