Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7809106.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_100_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Bellamy_Blake/John_Murphy, John_Murphy_(The_100)/Original_Male_Character
      (s)
  Character:
      John_Murphy_(The_100), Bellamy_Blake, Original_Male_Character(s), Jackson
      (The_100), Raven_Reyes, Finn_Collins, Clarke_Griffin, Zoe_Monroe,
      Sterling_(The_100), Abby_Griffin, Marcus_Kane, Jacapo_Sinclair
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Canon-Typical_Violence, Past
      Sexual_Abuse, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares,
      Panic_Attacks, Eventual_Smut, There's_fluff_in_here_i_promise, it's_not
      all_angst, Bonfires, Berries, Nostalgia, canon_divergent_after_the
      beginning_of_s2e01, murphy_is_in_need_of_comfort_and_bellamy_is
      protective, It_Gets_Worse_Before_It_Gets_Better
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-19 Completed: 2016-12-12 Chapters: 13/13 Words: 30140
****** Hide Your Soul out of His Reach ******
by twinkjohnmurphy
Summary
     “John?” He swiveled his head to see who the fuckwas calling him by
     his first name but regretted it instantly when he caught sight of the
     tall, dark-haired man next to him.
     No. No, god, please no.
     Murphy suddenly felt sick and was once again struggling to catch his
     breath. There was no possible way, out of anyone to fucking survive
     the trip down to the ground that he was here. Here, next to Murphy in
     this hall that now seemed so goddamned small, way too small to
     breathe in, touching his arm for Christ’s sake. He was practically
     hyperventilating.

     ---

     Set at the beginning of season 2.
     When Murphy returned to Camp Jaha on a stretcher, he found himself
     face-to-face with someone from his past.
     Bellamy needed to help rescue the other delinquents, but he couldn't
     forget the terrified look in Murphy's eyes.
     Who was the man in the hall, and what did he want with Murphy?
Notes
     so this is my first multi-chapter fic, it's going to end up being
     around 20-25k words i think.
     please feel free to comment, question, and critique, i'd love to hear
     your opinions!
     title from Fleurie's "Soldier"
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As the rescue squad made their way to the edge of the forest and approached the
opening gates of the new camp, Murphy began to feel somewhat anxious. He hadn’t
imagined Camp Jaha would be so developed, at least not this soon. Hadn’t the
Ark crashed only a mere several days before? He whipped his head around,
quickly scanning their new home from his spot on the makeshift stretcher. For
the first time since he was banished by the other delinquents, he felt the
smallest bit of hope creep into him, excited at the prospect of a real second
chance.
Although Murphy would rather die than admit it, the camp was pretty impressive.
He turned on his side, straining to see as many of the Arkers milling about as
he could. There were definitely more people here than he had expected. After
seeing the space station fall from the sky and plummet to the ground he was
sure there would be few, if any, survivors. Where were the other delinquents,
though? He was almost certain they had avoided the Dropship’s fiery blast, but
no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot any of the kids’ familiar faces
among the crowd. Minus, of course, an injured Raven and an incredibly pissed
off Bellamy. Murphy listed a little too far to his left in his curiosity,
throwing the guards that carried him off balance and nearly rolling himself
onto the ground before someone placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, easing him
down onto his back.
“Easy there,” Jackson cautioned, voice even and endearing. Murphy knew the
nurse from his countless visits to the medical ward on the Ark. It seemed like
almost once a week Murphy would be sitting on a counter with Jackson bandaging
his bruised, scraped knuckles after whatever fight he’d managed to land himself
in and tut-tutting about learning to be the bigger person, but never in a
condescending way. He always assumed most patients appreciated Jackson’s
kindness and normally he wouldn’t care one way or another, but at the moment it
simply irritated him. He refrained from rolling his eyes, not eager to make
another enemy so soon, and allowed himself to be laid back on the stretcher for
now. He would have plenty of time to scope out his surroundings once his
goddamn leg wasn’t in so much pain. Stupid fucking Grounders. If there was one
thing Murphy couldn’t stand it was not being able to move around on his own; he
abhorred the thought of being immobilized. Whatever. He figured soon enough
he’d be given something to dull the ache and the thought of being numb for a
bit had him pleasantly distracted for the time being.
When they finally got to the section of the station that had been designated as
the new medical wing, he waited patiently while Abby tended to Raven. Normally
Murphy would be all cockiness and sass, petulantly demanding some attention for
his own wounds, but his guilt had him keeping his mouth shut for once. He never
meant to hurt Raven, honestly. Collateral damage and all that. He shifted his
uneasy gaze from her pale face to the floor and swallowed hard. Although
grateful, he still didn’t understand why she hadn’t just fessed up to him
shooting her when Kane burst into the Dropship. If things had worked out
differently, he supposed, maybe they could have been friends. She was one of
the few people he didn’t have to force himself to tolerate, after all. Jackson
appeared suddenly at Murphy’s side, interrupting his train of thought.
“Dr. Griffin might be a while, John. Why don’t you go rest for now and I’ll
come get you when she’s finished with Raven?” Murphy opened his mouth, snarky
comment on the tip of his tongue, but he faltered when he realized he no longer
had a tent to call his own. Jackson noticed the boy’s hesitation, concern
furrowing his brow. “Is something wrong?” Murphy suddenly became very
interested in the fraying edges on the hem of his tattered shirt.
“No. I mean…no. It-it’s just that I don’t really, uh…” he trailed off, avoiding
Jackson’s confused gaze at all costs. He could feel his face burning because of
how pathetic he sounded right now. God, he shouldn’t have said anything.
Sleeping in an abandoned closet somewhere in this metal monstrosity would have
been better than admitting he didn’t know anything about what to do or where to
go next. An apologetic look crossed Jackson’s face and Murphy bristled. He
didn’t need the nurse’s goddamn pity. Jackson began to voice a solution, but he
had barely started talking before Murphy huffed out a quick “never mind” and
hopped to his feet. Or, well, he attempted to. Instead, he let out a yelp and
stumbled forward into Jackson, who caught Murphy’s small frame easily and
steadied him, careful not to say anything to upset the boy further. Just as
Murphy was about to pry himself from Jackson’s grasp, Raven’s anguished screams
pierced the room.
Abby was ordering around the other two nurses, who looked panicked and appeared
to be lacking experience. “Jackson, I need you over here now.” Her intense
glare left no room for argument.
“Be right there, Abby,” he rushed. Jackson glanced at the boy in front of him,
who was clearly in need of help as well but, you know, priorities. Murphy
shifted uncomfortably, careful not to disturb his injury. Jackson scanned the
room and spotted someone standing near the door who seemed like he would be
strong enough to help Murphy to a bed. “Hey, you!” he hollered, gaining the
man’s attention, “I need you to get this boy to one of the empty rooms in the
West wing right away.” Murphy was too distracted by the burning in his leg to
pay much mind to whomever Jackson was delegating orders. He was pretty sure
that the gash on his upper thigh was bleeding again from his careless movement.
He really wanted to ask for some painkillers but he figured now might not be
the best time, so he kept quiet and tried to count to ten. Jackson promptly
sprinted to Abby’s side as the person approached Murphy and it wasn’t until he
felt a rough hand grab his upper arm that he bothered to see who had been
reluctantly assigned to Murphy Duty. He immediately regretted looking up when a
pair of familiar dark eyes met his own and he felt his heart rate spike.
Murphy blinked dumbly. It felt as if his mouth had gone completely dry and his
voice wavered as he spoke. “Uh, Bellamy…” was all he could manage before the
older boy was practically dragging him out of the medical wing.
It took about five minutes for them to finally reach the West wing and for
Murphy to calm down enough to breathe properly. He was pretty sure that instead
of taking him to a room like Jackson had requested, Bellamy would just save
everyone the trouble and kill him once there was no one around to see. Not that
anyone would fault Bellamy for an act like that anyway. They’d probably crown
him. Murphy noticed, however, that despite the anger that seemed to be
radiating off him in waves, Bellamy was still fully supporting his weight as
they walked, Murphy’s arm strung across the other’s broad shoulders. Bellamy
was silently searching for a vacant room when Murphy finally decided to speak.
“Hey, um…thanks,” he mumbled. Eloquence never was Murphy’s strong suit but,
hey, at least he said something.
“Shut up, Murphy,” grunted Bellamy, shooting a hard glare down at him. Murphy
thought about retaliating but honestly he probably deserved that, so he let it
slide.
They were coming up on the last few rooms in the hallway when a man stepped out
from a door on the right. Neither paid much attention to him until Murphy felt
a hand on his arm. “John?” He swiveled his head to see who the
fuck
 was calling him by his first name but regretted it instantly when he caught
sight of the tall, dark-haired man next to him.
No. No, god, please no.
Murphy suddenly felt sick and was once again struggling to catch his breath.
There was no possible way, out of anyone to fucking survive the trip down to
the ground that he was here. Here, next to Murphy in this hall that now seemed
so goddamned small, way too small to breathe in, touching his arm for Christ’s
sake. He was practically hyperventilating.
Bellamy was just about to tell this dude that the two of them could catch up
all they wanted as soon as he was able to dump Murphy off by himself when he
felt the boy next to him start to shake violently. All thoughts of actively
hating Murphy dissipating, Bellamy turned to him and tried to meet his gaze.
“Murph? Hey, what is it? Murphy? Hey!” Bellamy snapped his fingers in front of
Murphy’s face in an attempt to get him to answer, or at least focus, but it was
no use. Murphy’s breaths were short and rapid, his piercing blue eyes now red-
rimmed and close to spilling over with tears. Bellamy had never seen someone
become so uneasy so quickly, especially not Murphy of all people.
Just as Bellamy was about to place his hand on Murphy’s cheek and make the boy
look at him, Murphy collapsed, unconscious, apparently having been too
overwhelmed by the unexpected panic attack. “What the hell?” he whispered to
himself, and shot an accusatory look at the guy that had apparently caused
this. Bellamy had no idea how, or if his glare was even warranted (for all he
knew, this could just be some weird PTSD reaction or something), but he didn’t
manage to stop himself in time. In an instant Bellamy had Murphy cradled in his
arms and was heading back to the medical ward. The boy looked so small and
innocent like this, and Bellamy felt a pang of guilt when he recalled how young
Murphy actually was, and how much he’d been through in such a short while. He
swallowed hard and quickened his pace.
“W-wait! Is he alright?!” the man in the hallway called after Bellamy, distress
obvious in his voice. Maybe he knew Murphy from the Ark.
Bellamy didn’t bother to pause, merely shouting, “I don’t know!” over his
shoulder before glancing down at Murphy again and mumbling to himself, “I hope
so.”
Chapter End Notes
     sorry for the cliffhanger! i'll try to have the next chapter up
     within a couple days <3
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When Murphy dreamt, it wasn’t so much visual as it was in feelings, both
physical and emotional. It hadn’t been that long ago, but even now he was
unable to recall the faces of the Grounders that had tortured him for what felt
like ages. But it wasn’t the who in his dreams that haunted him, it was the
what. He could still feel the sharp sting of the blades they used to cut into
his pale skin. His flesh burned with the memory of knives heated over a fire,
then pressed firmly against his stomach, his back, his thighs. Even his throat
would end up raw from endless screams that carried over into the real world as
he relived the horrifying experience of having his fingernails ripped from
their nail beds. But by far the worst part was the feeling of debilitating fear
and utter hopelessness he was plagued with almost nightly. He would finally
jolt awake, gasping for air and covered in sweat. More often than not, he’d
find himself on the floor in the morning, having thrashed off the bed at some
point, hair plastered to his forehead and knuckles white from clenching his
fists for what seemed like hours. He knew that if his nails had actually grown
back yet, there would be little crescent moon imprints on his palms.
So when Murphy awoke slowly on an exam table in the medical wing, he was
surprised to see that there appeared to be no signs of restlessness in his
sleep this time. While he was trying to make his mind up about whether that was
a good sign or not, he finally noticed a head of dark curls resting on the
table next to his left hip. Confused, he shifted slightly away from Bellamy,
remembering that they were probably not on good terms and coming to the
conclusion that he must be here to yell at Murphy for…well, for something. He
tried to recount what had happened after leaving the medical wing earlier and-
wait, how long had he been asleep? Was it even the same day? What the fuck
happened and why was he back in the exam room? Bellamy stirred and Murphy’s
breath hitched, unsure of what would happen next.
“Murph?” Bellamy questioned, voice gruff from sleep and eyes bleary. He yawned
and stretched back over the chair he had placed next to Murphy’s table. His
shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of his caramel skin and a peek of hip
bone. Murphy swallowed and had to force himself to turn his head away when he
realized he had been staring and hoped Bellamy wasn’t aware. Murphy had stayed
silent and Bellamy, now awake enough to notice, tried getting him to finally
say something. “Murphy? How are you feeling?” There was no hint of malice in
his voice, and Murphy thought Bellamy even seemed anxious. Strange.
Murphy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Um, fine.
Hungry, I guess. How long was I asleep?” To prove his point, his stomach
growled and Bellamy had to try hard not to smile, relieved to find that Murphy
no longer appeared to be in his panic-stricken state.
“About twelve hours. Jackson told me that there’s nothing wrong with you but I
wanted to stay and make sure for myself. You had me worried there for a bit,
man.” Bellamy leaned forward to brush some hair out of Murphy’s eyes but he
recoiled, still perplexed as to why Bellamy was being so nice to him.
“What do you mean you were worried? Did they finally examine my leg or…?”
Murphy stared blankly at Bellamy and now it was his turn to be confused.
“Your leg? No, you…you don’t remember?” Concern was etched into Bellamy’s
features, but Murphy had no clue why.
“No, Bell, the last thing I remember was you grabbing me and leading me out of
the medical wing. What’s going on?” Murphy flushed faintly when he realized he
had called the older boy ‘Bell’ since he hadn’t used the nickname in front of
him before, but Bellamy seemed unfazed.
“Murphy, you had a panic attack and fainted.” Bellamy stood and took a step
closer to Murphy. “I don’t know what caused it. We were looking for a room for
you to sleep awhile and all of a sudden you were hyperventilating. I tried
asking you what was wrong but then you passed out. I carried you back here, so
they could figure out what happened. I thought you had just lost a lot of blood
or you were in shock maybe, I don’t know…” he finished with a shrug. Bellamy
looked like he was going to say something else and changed his mind, but Murphy
wasn’t about to let it go.
Embarrassed at having been so weak in front of someone who had wanted him dead
less than a month ago, Murphy decided he really needed to solve his fainting
problem. “And that’s all that happened?” he prompted. Bellamy hesitated, but
just shrugged again. Murphy scoffed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s what I thought too, but…” Bellamy frowned and licked his lips,
obviously contemplating saying more.
“Jesus, spit it out, Bell. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Well, when we were in the West wing trying to find a room, we ran into
someone,” Bellamy stated simply.
"Who?" Murphy was beginning to get annoyed with the vague responses Bellamy was
giving him.
Bellamy opened his mouth and closed it again, realizing that he didn’t have any
idea who the hell that guy was that they met in the hallway. But he had to have
known Murphy; he did refer to him by his first name after all. “I, uh…actually
I don’t really know,” he stammered and rubbed the back of his neck, quickly
coming to the conclusion that he was absolutely zero help at all right now. “A
man came out of his room and called you John, and that was literally the extent
of it. After that you just lost it.” Bellamy ran a hand through his tangled
curls.
Murphy stared at Bellamy in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. This was by far
the most ridiculous story he had heard. “No, no way,” he said as he shook his
head and began to lift himself from the exam table. Bellamy placed a deft hand
on Murphy’s shoulder to keep him from aggravating the fresh stitches on his
thigh. Murphy rolled his eyes, but placated him. “Seriously, Bellamy, there’s
gotta be another reason. People don’t just freak out like that. I don’t just
freak out like that.”
Bellamy had to admit that he had a point. Murphy had been known for his temper,
sure, and was quick to many emotions, but vulnerability was not one of them. In
the entire time he had known Murphy, Bellamy couldn’t think of a single
instance he had seen him so, well, disturbed. The closest he could recall was
when he came across the boy huddled in on himself in the Dropship, absolutely
covered in his own blood after he escaped from the Grounders for the first
time. But even then, it took days of nonstop torture to get him to that point,
and it wasn’t long before Murphy was his usual, belligerent self again.
“I don’t know, Murph. Look, we’ll figure it out soon, alright? But right now
you have to rest, ‘cause if you keep trying to move around your leg is never
gonna heal. Stay here and I’ll go get you some food and water. Jackson’ll
probably be by soon to change your bandages as well.” Bellamy noticed a brief
look of disappointment cross the boy’s face. “Hey,” he added, softening his
voice, tentatively reaching over again to move Murphy’s hair from his eyes,
“I’ll be back before you know it.” And with a wink that Murphy nearly missed,
Bellamy was out the door.
He made his way through the winding halls of the Ark, heading for the exit.
Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at having spent half a day
asleep by Murphy’s side when he should have been with Kane and the others, who
were currently out looking for Clarke and the rest of the delinquents. It’s not
like Kane would have allowed Bellamy to tag along, though; as of right now, he
was still under scrutiny from the acting Chancellor. He supposed that’s what
happens when you shoot an authority figure. Oh well.
Finn had already come to him to discuss a plan that involved stealing guns and
embarking on their own rescue mission, since the adults had yet to make any
progress. Bellamy was doing everything in his power to keep Finn from losing
his cool; he could tell the boy was incredibly distraught, but there was
something different about the way Finn was acting. Normally the teen was
logical, level-headed and always in control of his emotions, but ever since the
Dropship blast when they got separated from what remained of the hundred, Finn
had become restless, certain that the delinquents were being held captive by
Grounders. If he didn’t know any better, Bellamy would say Finn was obsessed
with the idea; it seemed as though he hadn’t talked about anything else since
they got to camp. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much either of them could do at
the moment. The guards had been given direct orders not to let anyone leave the
gates unless they were part of the search party. But with such little knowledge
of the terrain and Grounder tactics, the adults were bound to either wind up
dead or captured as well. Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe Finn had
a point. He knew that he needed to focus on finding their friends right now
instead of wandering helplessly around camp. After all, Murphy was safe enough
under Jackson’s supervision, right?
He stepped through the main entrance of the space station into the crisp air
and paused for a brief moment to enjoy the sweet, piney scent and refreshing
breeze that accompanied autumn. The Dropship may have felt more like home, but
at least in Camp Jaha there were fewer opportunities for the Grounders to
attack, and Bellamy was able to appreciate the beauty of Earth a little bit
more. He had to admit, it was rather liberating.
When Bellamy reached the part of the camp that housed their food, he ducked
through the door and was happy to find that it was currently vacant. Although
there was no strict regulating of rations down here like there had been on the
Ark, he still didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself as he
stuffed a few extra packets of wild berries in his pockets. He thought back to
when the delinquents had just arrived on Earth and how ridiculously hungry they
had been during the first several days. Few of the teens had any hunting
skills, so they had to rely mostly on nuts and the occasional rabbit or boar
for their sustenance. It had been Murphy who discovered a clearing not far from
the Dropship that was surrounded by trees with small, dark-colored fruit
growing in bunches. Monty later informed them that what they had found were
mulberry trees, and the fruit was not only safe to eat, but also unbelievably
delicious. Bellamy smiled fondly as he remembered lazing underneath the shade
of the trees with Murphy, Atom, Roma, and Mbege. The group of misfits would
make jokes and trade stories while they indulged on the sweet berries until
their fingers and mouths were stained purple. Looking back, he was amazed at
how simple things were then. Someone cleared their throat behind him, “Can I
help you, Bellamy?”
Lost in his nostalgia, Bellamy hadn’t noticed Sinclair enter the room. He spun
on his heel, ready to explain the completely logical reason his jacket pockets
were overflowing with fruits and nuts, but the playful look Sinclair gave
Bellamy put him at ease. He smiled wide. “Sinclair, hey. I was just getting
some food for Murphy, he hasn’t eaten since we got to camp and he’s already
skinny enough as it is; I don’t want him wasting away.”
Sinclair cocked a curious eyebrow, but the grin never left his face. “For
Murphy? I thought you two weren’t exactly getting along.”
“Well, the punk sure doesn’t make getting along very easy, but I think I kind
of like that about him,” Bellamy offered sheepishly, ducking his head a bit. He
hadn’t known the engineer very well on the Ark, but Bellamy was aware of how
close Sinclair was with Raven, so he figured he must be a pretty decent person,
and Bellamy felt comfortable in his presence.
Sinclair nodded thoughtfully, giving Bellamy a knowing look, “Sometimes the
ones who are a little rough around the edges are the ones worth keeping close,
aren’t they?”
Bellamy smiled again. “I think you’re right, sir.” He nodded back, and turned
to leave the room.
“Bellamy.” Sinclair caught his arm, his expression more serious now. “You’ve
been in the medical wing recently, right? Raven…how is she doing?”
“She’s really strong, sir,” Bellamy reassured. He thought for a moment. “You
raised her well.” The grin quickly returned to Sinclair’s face and he clapped a
hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction. Bellamy
grabbed a canteen and began to fill it with water, deciding he would tell Raven
about their exchange on his way back to Murphy.
As he was rounding the corner on the space station that led to the medical wing
and desperately attempting to balance the pile of food in his arms, Bellamy
heard someone scream his name. The voice was unmistakable: Murphy was calling
for him, and he sounded like he was in trouble. Without a second thought,
Bellamy dropped the rations to the floor and took off down the corridor as fast
as his legs could manage. He came upon the exam room and threw the door open,
practically knocking it off its hinges. He skidded to a stop when he laid his
eyes on Murphy, who, for some reason, was no longer on the exam table. At the
moment, the boy was sprawled on the floor, eyes wide with fear. He was shaking,
and Bellamy could tell by the blood on his sweatpants that his stitches had
been torn open. Again. Jackson ran through the open door a few seconds later,
nearly colliding with Bellamy, and dropped to the floor to help Murphy. Bellamy
regained focus, mentally slapping himself for not moving sooner. He knelt on
the other side of Murphy, grabbing his hand, and it took all of Bellamy’s
willpower to not brush his lips against the boy’s knuckles. Instead, he settled
for running a hand through Murphy’s soft hair. Bellamy wanted so desperately to
comfort him, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds either. He reminded
himself that it wasn’t too long ago that he was ready to end Murphy’s life in
order to “keep the peace” with the rest of the delinquents. An intense wave of
guilt made it hard to swallow the lump that was forming in Bellamy’s throat. He
finally gained the ability to speak, although his voice came out sounding a lot
less certain than he wanted. “Murph?”
Chapter End Notes
     i don’t care what anyone tells me, the Original Misfits™ eating
     mulberries together is actually canon
     also i love Sinclair
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     the events of the last chapter, from murphy's POV
     Hallway Man finally gets a name
     warnings for some dubious content towards the beginning
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As soon as Bellamy left the exam room, Murphy simultaneously felt slightly
relieved and also somewhat uncomfortable. He may have seemed like a threat at
first, but now that Murphy was injured, it was clear to see that Bellamy wanted
him to be alright. The Rebel King, with his stupid hero complex. Wait, did that
make Murphy a damsel in distress? He scowled and quickly pushed that thought
from his mind. Either way, Bellamy’s concern over his well-being was making it
a little easier for Murphy to relax, but with that bit of security now gone to
find food, he felt rather vulnerable.
Murphy reclined on the cot with his arms crossed behind his head and let his
eyes flutter closed. He might as well take advantage of his time alone right
now and just enjoy the mental images of Bellamy taking care of him. Who knew
how long it would be before they were at each others’ throats again…no pun
intended. He thought of the way Bellamy had been at his bedside apparently all
night, and indulged himself in remembering the way Bellamy’s shirt exposed some
of his tanned skin when he stretched. Murphy decided he better not dwell too
much on that, what with Jackson bound to arrive soon. He smirked at the idea of
having to conceal a hard-on while the nurse checked the stitches on his leg and
allowed himself a quick chuckle.
A couple minutes passed and Murphy heard footsteps enter the exam room. “Here
to patch me up already, doc?” he questioned without bothering to open his eyes,
figuring Jackson had arrived sooner rather than later.
There was a short pause and Murphy wondered if maybe the nurse hadn’t heard
him, but then a deep and familiar voice sounded directly above him, sending
shivers down his spine, “Not exactly.”
Murphy’s eyes snapped open, and he was face to face with the guy from the
hallway, who, unbeknownst to Murphy, had apparently sidled right up next to his
table and was towering by his side, smiling so big he was practically baring
his teeth. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Murphy’s heart was already racing and he
made a vain attempt to scramble back from the man leaning over his body. In one
quick motion, the guy pinned both of Murphy’s slender wrists above his head
with a large hand. Murphy thrashed underneath his hold, trying to squirm free,
but the man’s grasp only tightened in response and he was sure it would leave
bruises. Murphy closed his eyes again, hoping that maybe this was actually just
a nightmare. Yeah, just a really vivid, awful fucking nightmare and any moment
now he would wake up and Bellamy would be here with him and he would have food
and-
“Come on, baby,” the man crooned. His other hand was cupping Murphy’s chin now,
and he couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that escaped him. “Let me see your
pretty eyes.” Murphy felt like he might vomit.
Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything. Maybe he’ll stop. He’ll get bored and
leave eventually, as long as you just don’t look. Murphy felt the hand being
removed from his face and for a brief second he thought maybe his tactic was
working. But when the hand encircled his throat instead, his eyes flew open,
tears already forming at the corners. The man hummed in approval. “Oh,
sweetheart, I missed those baby blues so much.” Murphy writhed against the grip
and choked as he tried to plea with him, unable to form words. Just as
blackness started to creep into Murphy’s vision, the hand lifted from his
throat. He coughed and gagged with the sudden intake of oxygen and as the hand
began to slide slowly up his torso, underneath his white t-shirt, Murphy
finally found his voice.
“HELP!” He yelled, despite the ache in his throat. “BELLAMY! JACKSON!” His
screams were so loud they hurt his own ears. “PLEASE, SOMEBODY H-” Murphy’s
wailing was cut short as the hand clamped down over his mouth.
The man looked around the room wildly. Murphy barely had time to register what
was happening before he was dragged roughly off the exam table. He fell to the
floor with a cry and pain started shooting through his leg. Furious, the guy
growled and Murphy thought he might be killed right then and there. Much to his
surprise, though, the man took a couple steps back and adopted a worried
expression just in time for Bellamy to come barreling through the door. He
immediately caught sight of the startled boy on the ground, bleeding again,
tears streaming down his face. Jackson followed directly after, kneeling by
Murphy’s side, and tried to assess the damage to his stitches. Jackson, making
his voice as gentle as possible, explained, “I need to check your thigh, okay,
John?” Murphy nodded absently and the nurse started his work. Bellamy was quick
to crouch down on Murphy’s other side, entwining their fingers together and
using his free hand to smooth the boy’s hair back. His face was beyond concern
now; he looked horrified.
“Murph?” Bellamy gasped, trying to catch his breath, eyes searching Murphy’s
for an answer.
It was as if everything finally hit Murphy all at once and he choked out a sob,
lunging forward to wrap his arms tightly around the older boy’s waist. He was
outright crying now, shaking, heaving breaths and trying to put his words
together. “B-Bell,” he sniffed, and Bellamy’s heart broke. He needed to know
right now what the hell had happened in the short time he was gone.

“Damian, what in the world is going on?” Jackson was on his feet now, asking
the only other person in the room to explain the situation before them. Bellamy
hadn’t even noticed the guy when he charged in, too distracted by the damaged
boy on the floor to pay attention to much else. Immediately he recognized the
man from the hallway the day before. Bellamy glared, knowing the asshole had
something to do with this.
The guy, Bellamy thought Jackson had called him Damian, appeared just as
alarmed as the other two had only moments ago. He frantically looked from
Jackson to Murphy and back, rushing his words together, “I-I-I don’t know! I
heard that John was here recovering from a Grounder attack and I wanted to stop
by and and see how he was doing. As I got to the door I heard him screaming and
crying, but when I came in, he was already on the floor. It sounded like he was
having a nightmare or something. I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I
should have tried to find you right away. I was just too scared to leave him
alone.” Damian’s voice wavered toward the end of his speech, and it seemed for
a moment like he might start crying himself. He dropped to his knees in front
of Murphy. “John, I was so worried about you.” Damian reached out a hand to
mimic Bellamy’s actions from before, causing Murphy to flinch violently. Damian
looked pained by the boy’s reaction, but Bellamy swatted his hand away and
pulled Murphy further into his embrace.
“He isn’t recovering from a Grounder attack, he’s recovering from the
Grounders’ torture,” Bellamy spat at the man. Who the hell did this guy think
he was, anyway?
Jackson nodded slowly, trying to piece things together. “Damian, you said that
it appeared as if John was having a nightmare? So you’re saying that he was
asleep when you arrived at the room, correct?” Damian nodded, eyes still locked
on Murphy. “Well, we do know that Mr. Murphy suffers from intense nightmares on
a regular basis, which is to be expected after what he went through in the
Grounder camp.” Jackson was silent for a minute, apparently considering his
next decision. He turned back to Murphy, lowering himself to meet his eyes, and
offered a soft smile. “John? I think it’s best if you stay here for a few days
rather than in your own room so we can keep a closer eye on you. I don’t want
you to end up hurting yourself again, all right?” Jackson’s eyes dropped
momentarily to the stitches, and suddenly Murphy felt too exposed even though
he was well covered in his t-shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants (which
were now soaked through with his blood. Oops).
Murphy blinked, feeling dizzy. What the fuck was going on? He wasn’t having a
goddamn nightmare, he was assaulted. When he realized he still hadn’t answered
Jackson’s question, Murphy opened his mouth to protest, but after being choked,
screaming at the top of his lungs, and crying uncontrollably, he found that he
couldn’t force any words out. He just coughed instead, and looked expectantly
at Bellamy, who sighed and nodded to Jackson, silently agreeing with the
suggestion.
Murphy’s heart started beating hard again. He couldn’t stay in this room; hell,
he couldn’t stay on this planet if Damian was here. He grabbed Bellamy’s shirt,
panicked. “It’ll be alright, Murph,” Bellamy assured him, scowling at Damian
before drawing the young boy to his body once more. “I’ll stay with you the
whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Murphy nodded against
Bellamy’s chest and quickly became aware of just how fucking exhausted he was.
His eyelids felt so heavy. With a nod from Jackson, Bellamy picked him up and
carefully placed him back on the table, stroking his hair and reassuring him
that he wouldn’t leave him alone. Murphy trusted Bellamy right now, and so he
allowed himself to give in to sleep, but the last thing he saw before his eyes
fell shut was Damian’s feral grin.
Chapter End Notes
     sorry this chapter is so short! i'll try to make up for it by posting
     the next one sooner
     Damian is an english name derived from latin Damianus, meaning "to
     tame, to subdue" and euphemistically "to kill"
     protective!Bellamy is my favorite Bellamy <3
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     can Murphy, like, finally stop sleeping i s2g
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Murphy sat up on the table after what felt like hours, rubbing the sleep from
his eyes. He glanced around the empty exam room, feeling the familiar burn of
betrayal in his throat when he realized Bellamy was nowhere to be found. He
rolled his eyes emphatically at the discovery (definitely not just to suppress
the tears that were threatening to form) and shifted his feet onto the cold
floor, ignoring the way his stitches stung with the movement. Whatever, it was
his own stupid fault for getting his hopes up; Bellamy had better things to do,
obviously.
It took Murphy a moment longer than it should have to notice the eerie
quietness around him; not to mention that it seemed to be far dimmer than a
medical room should be. He chalked it up to Jackson’s diligent efforts to help
him heal, knowing the nurse understood Murphy’s general distaste for people and
had perhaps requested the room be quarantined for the time being. He made a
mental note to thank Jackson later for the sentiment and headed for the exit,
but Murphy stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of something
dangling in the open doorway.
A wave of nausea washed over him as he examined the Dropship seatbelt, bright
red and ominous, that had been fashioned into a noose. Murphy took a step
closer, lifting a trembling hand to feel the fraying fabric, desperate to see
if it was a hallucination. His fingers brushed against the material and Murphy
doubled over, trying to stop himself from gagging. If this was someone’s sick
idea of a joke, they were going to be in for a world of hurt…once he could
breathe properly again. He shot one last glare at the offending object and
turned to find another exit, but instead came face to face with a smirking
Bellamy. Murphy’s stomach churned. Something about him seemed off. “Bell?”
Bellamy’s mouth split into a sharp smile, showing off two rows of teeth like
pointed fangs. “Not exactly,” the figure said without moving its mouth.
Terrified, Murphy stumbled backward into another body and spun his head to see
Jackson standing behind him. Except…it wasn’t quite Jackson, and he was bearing
the same barbed grin as Not-Bellamy. Before Murphy could even entertain the
idea of escaping, a set of hands was guiding him back to the doorway. “Come on,
baby,” Not-Bellamy coaxed as he and Not-Jackson forced the noose around
Murphy’s neck. He struggled and thrashed against their grip, but to no avail.
The red seatbelt bit harshly into his delicate skin as tears blurred his
vision.
Suddenly, he was elevated, perched precariously on a dilapidated crate amid an
endless sea of familiar faces, all with matching, hellish smiles. A few stood
out from the rest - Mbege, Charlotte, his parents - as they grinned up at him,
fangs glinting like knives in the low light. Murphy closed his eyes, praying to
any deity that might be listening to let him live, promising that he’ll be
better this time: warmer, kinder, not so hostile.
Not-Bellamy’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Let me see your pretty eyes.”
Murphy shivered, unprepared to face this fate again. He knew he wouldn’t
survive a second death sentence. There was a loud cracking sound as the crate
was kicked from underneath his feet and then all he could focus on was the
familiar, painful burn that accompanies a hanging. Murphy opened his eyes in
his last few moments, locking stares with Not-Bellamy, inches from his face.
The world in front of him began to twist and fade, but Murphy still heard his
cruel laughter, followed by, “Oh, sweetheart, I missed those baby blues so
much.”
Murphy gasped, sputtering into consciousness and immediately there were hands
on both of his arms, but he couldn’t stop fighting, consumed by panic and pain
and distorted smiles. He began to cough and gag uncontrollably, only managing
to twist out of the person’s grasp in time to vomit off the edge of his cot.
Tears and sickness mingled together as he realized he was crying again. God, he
hated crying. There was a soothing voice next to him, trying to calm him down.
“I got you, Murph. You’re alright. I’m right here with you, just like I
promised. Shhh…” Bellamy ran a comforting palm up and down Murphy’s spine,
hoping some light contact would help bring him back into their reality and away
from the monsters in his dreams.
Once Murphy’s body stopped shuddering and he was sure he wasn’t going to be
sick again, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and tentatively turned
to face Bellamy. Murphy regarded him with caution, but a soft smile from the
freckled boy had Murphy reminding himself that what he saw was just a
nightmare, nothing more, and that Bellamy had stayed like he said he would. He
swallowed thickly as he adapted to his surroundings.
Murphy’s throat was still sore, but he found speaking to be easier now that
he’d had some time to rest his vocal cords. “Do you have any water?” he choked
out, rubbing his eyes while he attempted to adjust to the bright light of the
exam room. Bellamy reached for a canteen and pressed it into Murphy’s hands,
and he gulped the liquid down greedily.
“Careful,” Bellamy cautioned, “don’t have too much too soon, you still haven’t
had anything to eat or drink in a few days.” A few days? Jesus, Murphy had no
way of knowing how long he had actually been at the camp since he’d spent most
of his time asleep, but he didn’t think it had been that long. When Murphy was
finished with the canteen, Bellamy grabbed a towel and began to clean him up a
bit, dabbing at the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and wiping any
remaining vomit from his mouth. Murphy felt so juvenile being cared for like
this, but he was grateful for Bellamy’s presence. He knew that he would be a
complete mess if he was on his own right now. It took Murphy a moment to
realize that Bellamy was holding his hand, running a thumb over his scarred
knuckles. Bellamy smiled a bit and cocked his head. “You hungry?” Murphy
nodded. “Good,” he continued, “it’s almost lunchtime. Roasted boar today, so
we’d better get there before it’s gone. I brought you some clean clothes to
wear. They, uh, might be a little big on you…” Bellamy trailed off as he handed
over a black shirt and some gray sweatpants, the faintest hint of a blush
spreading across his cheeks.
Murphy examined the articles and smirked. “They’re yours, aren’t they?” he
asked, voice still raspy.
“I hope that’s alright,” Bellamy said with a lopsided grin as Murphy quickly
tossed his old shirt to the side and replaced it with the fresh one.
The shirt swallowed him, but it was free from holes and smelled like Bellamy.
“It’s perfect,” he declared, and it was. Murphy loved it. Bellamy beamed at
him.
Murphy knew that changing his sweatpants would prove to be a more difficult
task. Slowly, he scooted to the edge of the table and lowered his legs off the
side, supporting most of his weight with his arms. Before his feet could touch
the ground, Bellamy’s hands were on his hips, holding him steady. Murphy hoped
that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He coughed to hide his embarrassment
and leaned back slightly, shifting the pressure onto his uninjured right leg.
Bellamy was studying him closely. “Do you need a hand?” He wanted to make sure
Murphy didn’t aggravate his stitches further, but he knew that offering to help
the boy change might come across as patronizing. Or maybe just weird.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Murphy stated coolly, praying his blush was gone by now.
Bellamy hesitated for a second before nodding and turning around to give Murphy
some much appreciated privacy. He struggled for a little longer than he should
have, suddenly very aware that he was in his underwear just a foot away from
the Bellamy Blake. When he finally had the oversized sweatpants on, he huffed
from the exertion and pulled the drawstring tight. “You can turn around now,”
he muttered, fumbling with the string. His fingertips were still raw, the
missing nails making it difficult to tie a decent knot.
Bellamy noticed his failed attempts and tried to hide a grin. “Here, let me.”
He moved his hands to Murphy’s waist and before the boy could protest, Bellamy
was expertly working the drawstring into a neat bow. His fingers brushed
against the exposed skin on Murphy’s abdomen, making them both jump and turn
their heads away from each other. Murphy cursed his overreaction. What was he,
twelve? “So!” His attention snapped back to Bellamy, whose voice sounded an
octave higher than normal. “Food time?” Murphy nodded again and smiled,
grateful for the distraction.
The two boys paced slowly down the hall toward the cafeteria. Murphy had
insisted that, no, he did not need to be carried, and after some debate,
Bellamy conceded (but not before making Murphy “pinky swear” that he would say
something if his wound began to hurt too much). His leg wasn’t nearly as sore
today, and Bellamy explained that after Jackson repaired the stitches, he
managed to wake Murphy enough to have him swallow some painkillers, and that he
shouldn’t need any more for a few hours. They finally strolled into the crowded
lunch area and scanned the room for a place to sit. Murphy thought it was
unusual that he still hadn’t seen any of the other delinquents besides Finn,
Monroe, and Sterling since they’d arrived at camp, so he decided to ask Bellamy
about it. “Hey, where’s Clarke and the rest? Weren’t they in the Dropship
during the explosion? And what about Octavia?”
Bellamy sighed. “O escaped during the fight with Lincoln. I miss her like
crazy, but at least I know she’ll be safe with him,” he said with a sad smile.
Murphy wondered briefly what it would be like to have a sibling, but then he
thought of Mbege’s notorious scowl and realized he already knew. Octavia was
still alive, though, and that was more than Murphy could say about his brother.
He quickly pushed the memory from his mind, not wanting to relive the
heartbreak he felt when he heard about Mbege’s death. Bellamy continued, “We’re
not exactly sure what happened with the others, but it’s likely that after they
reopened the Dropship door, some rogue Grounders captured them. Kane’s been
sending search parties out to explore the area every day; he’s even led a few
of them. But, no word on their whereabouts yet.”
“Well duh,” Murphy scoffed, “it’s not like they would know where to look. Why
haven’t you been in those search parties? Out of everyone in the camp, you’d
have the best chance at finding them.”
Bellamy shrugged. “Kane doesn’t trust me. I mean, now that he’s the Chancellor,
I suppose he has to be careful around people who, you know, shoot Chancellors.”
Murphy knew the statement wasn’t meant to be funny, but he couldn’t quell the
laughter that bubbled up inside him. Bellamy shot him a glare, but soon he was
grinning and cracking up as well. They giggled for a good few minutes,
receiving several strange looks. After catching their breath, the two
eventually found an empty table to claim and promptly sat down. Bellamy made
sure Murphy was comfortable, then went to fetch rations for both of them. When
he returned, Murphy was pleased to find an extra serving of mulberries on his
tray. He popped one in his mouth and closed his eyes, relishing the experience.
“They’re your favorite, right?” Bellamy asked with a smile.
Murphy blushed, surprised that Bellamy had remembered something so trivial.
“Yes. Whenever we had them during meals on the Ark my dad would give me his
share,” he admitted. He recalled the time Alex Murphy spent ten minutes
teaching his son how to toss the berries in the air and catch them in his
mouth. Murphy felt the melancholy of nostalgia begin to creep into his thoughts
and changed the subject. “They taste better down here, though. I think they’re
sweeter when you can pick them from the tree yourself, y’know?”
“Sounds like your father was a pretty great guy,” Bellamy offered, ignoring the
question. It caught Murphy off guard. He nodded, swallowing around the lump in
his throat.
They ate in comfortable silence after that, hastily shoveling food into their
mouths. Murphy tried to remember the last time he actually had a meal, but
failed. He had never been this grateful for food before in his life. Bellamy
finished first and was watching Murphy enjoy his berries (which he had saved
for last, of course) when a thought crossed his mind. “Who’s Damian?”
The bluntness of the question caused Murphy to choke on his food. He began to
cough and Bellamy apologized, handing over the canteen of water.
Murphy took a drink from the bottle and ran a hand through his hair,
distressed. He was amazed at how such a simple question could change his mood
so quickly, and decided this really wasn’t the place to discuss it. “Bell…” he
dropped his gaze to the floor and grew quiet.
Bellamy leaned over and gently lifted Murphy’s chin so that the boy was looking
at him again. “Murph, I know something isn’t right about that guy. Please, tell
me.”
Murphy studied Bellamy’s face for several moments, contemplating whether or not
he could really trust him. But honestly, what choice did he have? No one else
in this camp gave a damn about him, and even Bellamy’s false concern was better
than nothing. After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed, “Alright. I’ll
tell you. Just…not here.”
Chapter End Notes
     i love Mbege and thinking about Murphy remembering him and being sad
     breaks my heart into a million pieces
     but! more fun with berries!!
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     this chapter is a long one (yay) but also not very happy (i'm sorry)
     trigger warning for descriptions of past rape
     if you want to skip that section, stop reading at the 5th paragraph
     ("I woke up...) and pick up at the 7th paragraph ("He was gonna...)
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
They didn’t speak on the way back to the medical wing, the sound of their boots
echoing through the corridor the only accompaniment on their trip. Murphy was
an anxious mess already. What if Bellamy didn’t understand? Maybe he would be
disgusted and leave. Murphy wouldn’t blame him, but he had no idea what he
would do if that happened. Even just the thought of being alone without
Bellamy’s protection was starting to make him feel lightheaded. Murphy lifted a
trembling hand again, about to run it through his hair for the fifth time since
they left the cafeteria (a nervous habit he had never learned to break), but
Bellamy captured it and laced their fingers together. He allowed himself to
relax the tiniest bit.
When they reached the exam room, Bellamy picked Murphy up without a word and
placed him back on the exam table. Murphy felt a little bad when he noticed
that someone had apparently been by to clean up his mess from earlier, but that
thought quickly vanished when Bellamy took a seat next to him on the table,
close enough for their legs to touch. His heart skipped a beat. “Just take your
time, okay?” Bellamy soothed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Murphy
took a shaky breath and collected his thoughts.
“When I was young,” he started quietly, and Bellamy practically had to lean in
to hear him, “really young, like eleven or so, before I went to the SkyBox, I
used to spend time in Damian’s quarters a lot. Since my parents were Factory
Station, they usually ended up getting stuck with extra shifts, and most nights
they wouldn’t get back until midnight or later. My dad and Damian were pretty
close friends growing up, and he was a guard, so they figured it would be best
to have someone like him keep an eye on me when classes were out. I’ve always
been a bit of a troublemaker, I guess,” he laughed bitterly, but Bellamy
remained silent. Murphy continued, “Well, it was great at first. Damian would
give me snacks, and we would play games or he would read to me. Sometimes we’d
get to watch a movie if we were lucky. I always looked forward to going over
there for the evening.
“But one night my dad called and said there had been a problem at the station,
that he and my mom wouldn’t make it home until morning. He wanted to know if it
would be alright if I slept there for the night. Damian said it was perfectly
fine, that I was more than welcome. He would even let me sleep in the bed and
he would take the couch. I was so excited because I had never spent the night
in anyone else’s quarters before. My only friend at the time was Mbege, and my
mom thought he was a bad influence, so she never allowed me to stay at his
place. I figured it would be a fun evening, like always.
“I woke up in the middle of the night when I felt the bed move. I was confused,
so I turned on the lamp and saw Damian was next to me. I was gonna ask if
everything was okay, but before I could, he put his hand over my mouth and
shushed. He said, ‘You’re so pretty, Johnny, you know that? Soft hair, soft
skin, soft lips. And those big blue eyes. So, so pretty.’ I didn’t know what he
was doing. I mean, they don’t talk about that kind of stuff in school. How the
fuck could I have known? I tried to scream, tried to fight back, tried to get
out from underneath him, but it didn’t matter. He was so much stronger than
me…” Murphy shook his head and felt wetness on his cheeks. He scrubbed at the
tears. “When he finished, he got mad. Said I shouldn’t have tempted him. That I
was asking for it. He threatened to float my parents if I told anyone. So I
kept my mouth shut.
“The problem in Factory Station only got worse after that. I had to spend more
nights at Damian’s, and every time, I would wake up with him next to me, hand
on my mouth or around my throat. I knew he wasn’t lying, though, when he said
he could have my parents floated. I didn’t tell anyone, not my parents, not
Mbege. I was too scared. But then the nightmares started and I couldn’t sleep,
stopped being able to keep any food down. My dad thought I was sick, but when
Jackson checked me over he said they didn’t find anything. Not that they would,
of course. But I wasn’t getting any better and my dad got worried. He made an
excuse to leave work early one night so he could come check on me. Damian must
have forgotten to lock the door that day. My dad walked in, saw me on the bed,
crying, with Damian on top of me. I had never seen my dad so livid.
“He was gonna go straight to Jaha and demand that Damian be floated, but the
next morning the guards showed up to arrest my dad instead; turns out, Damian
had stolen medicine and pinned it on him. Everyone knew I had been sick for a
while and Damian was a respected member of the guard, so no one doubted the
story. They killed my father for nothing. It didn’t take long for my mom to
drink herself to death after that. I was eavesdropping on the council while
they tried to decide what to do with ‘the orphan boy.’ They didn’t want to deal
with finding a family to take in a problematic child with dead parents. That’s
when someone suggested I just continue to live with Damian. When I heard that,
I almost lost it. I couldn’t let that happen. So, before the decision was
finalized, I snuck back while he was asleep and set his quarters on fire. I’d
be arrested, and go to the SkyBox for a few years. I knew I would be floated
for it once I turned eighteen; they probably wouldn’t even bother with the
review, but being dead sounded better than having to spend another night with
him.” Murphy wrapped his arms around his midsection, sniffling. “I didn’t find
out what happened to Damian after that, but I never saw him the whole time I
was in the SkyBox so I assumed he died in the fire. Wishful thinking, I
suppose.”
Murphy had told the whole story facing forward, unable to bring himself to look
at Bellamy. He didn’t want to see the pity on his face. But when he finally
turned to Bellamy, Murphy saw that he was breathing hard, his jaw clenched and
knuckles turning white. Was he angry? Murphy hadn’t expected a reaction like
this. “Bell?” he asked. Before he knew it, Bellamy was up and out the door.
Murphy scrambled to his feet and tried to chase after him, limping as fast as
his leg would allow. When he caught sight of Bellamy again, he called out,
“Bellamy, wait!”
The panic in Murphy’s voice stopped him. He snapped his head to the left,
growling over his shoulder, “That bastard has to pay for what he did to you,
Murphy.” There was a fire in Bellamy’s eyes, and when Murphy reached him, he
could see the muscles in his arms tensing.
“Bellamy. No,” Murphy pleaded. He put a hand on his stitches. The painkillers
must have been wearing off because Murphy could feel his leg throbbing again.
Bellamy noticed his discomfort. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, but Murphy made
no attempt to move.
“I won’t let you go, Bell. You can’t tell anyone. Kane and Damian have known
each other their whole lives. Besides, who do you think people will believe?
Two murdering delinquents or Chief Guard of the Ark? Try to do something about
it, and you’re gonna get both of us killed.”
Bellamy stared angrily at him for a minute, nostrils flaring. He knew Murphy
was right. Bellamy already wasn’t on good terms with the Chancellor, and
accusing an esteemed authority figure of something like this without any kind
of proof was dangerous. But he couldn’t ignore it either, especially not after
the scene he witnessed with Damian yesterday. Bellamy rubbed his thumb and
forefinger over his eyes, grimacing. When he finally spoke, his tone was gruff
with unspent anger. “Murph. You’ve gotta tell someone. Someone who can actually
do something about the situation.”
“Yeah, okay, Bellamy. Let me just locate one of the many adults around here who
gives a shit about me and explain that the golden boy of space is secretly a
rapist. I’m sure that will go over real well.” Murphy’s words dripped with
sarcasm.
Frustrated, Bellamy threw out his arms and raised his voice slightly. “So
what’ll happen when I’m not around, Murphy? What if a time comes that I’m not
there to protect you? Because I can guarantee the second that happens, Damian
won’t hesitate to hurt you again.”
Murphy was desperate to stop talking about this, and Bellamy was almost yelling
now. What if somebody heard them? He tried to keep from trembling as he flicked
his eyes down the hall and whispered, “Bellamy, please.”
Bellamy realized how loud he was being, and scolded himself for letting his
emotions get the better of him. He took a step closer to Murphy and touched his
arm lightly to ease some of his anxiousness. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.
It’s just- I can’t stand around and do nothing. Murph, I…I would never be able
to forgive myself if anything like that happened to you again.” Murphy’s eyes
started watering, so Bellamy pulled him into a tight hug. After a few moments
spent listening to each others’ breathing, Bellamy had an idea. He mumbled into
Murphy’s hair, “What if you told Jackson?”
Murphy thought for a moment. Out of everyone in Camp Jaha, Jackson was probably
the only person besides Bellamy that he felt comfortable around. It wasn’t a
bad suggestion. But Murphy hesitated still. “I don’t know, Bell.”
“Jackson’ll understand. And I can’t be the only one that knows about this. If
something happened to me and I wasn’t able to protect you…” Bellamy trailed
off, the implications of his statement clear.
After a while, Murphy gave in. “Okay. But will you please be there with me when
I tell him? I’m not sure I can do it alone.”
Relieved, Bellamy nodded. “Of course,” he said, taking Murphy’s hand, and the
two boys headed back to the medical wing again.
Jackson smiled when he saw Bellamy and Murphy enter the exam room. He had
arrived a couple minutes ago to change Murphy’s bandages and was waiting
patiently for the boy to return, scribbling notes on a clipboard. Murphy
wondered if his handwriting was as bad as Abby’s. “John,” Jackson began, but
Bellamy cut him off with a wave of his hand. He knew that if Murphy was gonna
do this, it was now or never.
The nurse raised his eyebrows, appearing slightly taken aback, and Murphy
wanted to apologize for Bellamy’s behavior, but he was already explaining,
“Jackson, Murphy needs to tell you something.”
Jackson looked between the boys and cocked his head. “Well, Mr. Blake, I’m sure
Mr. Murphy can speak for himself,” he declared, and Bellamy dropped his gaze to
the ground. Jackson’s expression softened as he turned to face the younger of
the two. “Is something the matter, John?”
“Yeah, but uh…could we do this somewhere more private, maybe?” He glanced
around the room. There were only a few people in the area at the moment, but
Murphy didn’t want to risk having anyone overhear the conversation that was
about to take place.
“Certainly,” Jackson said, smiling, “we can talk in Dr. Griffin’s office. She
will be busy with patients for another hour or two.” He turned, gesturing for
Murphy to follow.
When they reached the office, Jackson ushered Murphy through the door but
regarded Bellamy with some apprehension. The older boy puffed his chest a bit,
ready to defend himself, but Murphy interjected, “It’s fine, Jackson. I asked
him to come.” Jackson nodded and Bellamy brushed past him, joining Murphy as he
eased himself onto a small couch, ignoring the discomfort of his stitches.
The nurse took a seat at a desk across from the boys, folding his hands. “Now,
what did you want to tell me, John?” he inquired.
Murphy’s stomach was in knots. He looked uneasily over at Bellamy, who placed a
comforting hand on his back. Murphy took a deep breath and, for the second time
in an hour, recounted the details of his past with Damian. When he finished, he
was sniffling again.
Jackson stood and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of Murphy and
offering him a handkerchief. He let the boy take a second to collect himself
before resting a hand on his knee and saying, “First of all, John, I need you
to understand that what happened to you is awful, and absolutely in no way your
fault.” He paused to let that sink in. “I am deeply sorry you had to go through
that. Thank you for deciding to come to Bellamy and me for support. No one in
your situation should have to suffer alone.” Bellamy nodded in agreement.
Murphy silently picked at the fraying edges of the handkerchief. When it was
clear he wasn’t going to say anything, Bellamy asked Jackson, “So what do we
do?”
The nurse sighed, “Well, that’s for John to decide. Of course, I would
recommend you two take this matter to Kane so that Damian can be handled
properly, but this is a very sensitive subject that John might not feel
comfortable talking to the Chancellor about yet. Whatever you choose to do,
John, Bellamy and I will support you completely.”
The idea of telling Kane and the rest of the council about Damian was
overwhelming. Murphy felt nauseous again. “No,” he settled, “I don’t want to go
to Kane.”
Bellamy was shocked. “Murphy, Damian needs to be locked up at the very least.
He’s already tried to get to you once, who knows what will happen if-”
“I said no,” Murphy interrupted him with a shaky voice, wrapping his arms
around himself. Jackson stood, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and
motioning with his head for the other to follow. Bellamy obeyed and joined
Jackson just outside the office, closing the door behind them.
Bellamy was sure he was about to receive a lecture, but Jackson’s voice was
gentle. “I know that you care about John and want justice for what happened to
him. And honestly, Bellamy, if it were up to me I would find the man myself
right now and show him exactly how I feel about his actions.” There was a
hardness to his features that Bellamy had never seen there before. Jackson
closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath to regain his composure before
continuing, “But what John needs right now is someone to be there for him, no
matter what. I’ll meet with him a few times a week for some counseling and
hopefully he will eventually feel ready to take action against Damian. Until
then, though, he requires your loyalty and compassion.”
Bellamy nodded begrudgingly. ‘Any means necessary’ had always been his
automatic form of defense when it came to keeping the people he cared about
safe, but he hadn’t really stopped to think about what Murphy might be feeling
in regards to the situation. “I understand.”
Jackson relaxed visibly. “Good. Now, go comfort him.” He gestured toward the
door, giving Bellamy a small smile. He re-entered the office to find Murphy
sprawled lazily on the couch, playing with some sort of medical tool that he
probably shouldn’t have in his possession. Bellamy smiled fondly to himself as
he observed the boy’s curious hands fumble with the object before Murphy
realized he was being watched.
“You girls done gossiping?” he teased. Bellamy ignored the taunt, choosing
instead to crouch down next to him and place a hand on his leg. Murphy noticed
Jackson’s convenient absence.
“You okay?”
Murphy rolled his eyes, but Bellamy could tell they were still watery and
bloodshot. “I’m fine. Let’s just…not talk about it right now.” He paused and
set the tool down, turning to face Bellamy. “I wanna do something to distract
myself for a bit. Take my mind off all of this shit.”
Bellamy’s lip curled up in a devilish smile. “You like fire, right?”
Chapter End Notes
     i'm sorry, i hate seeing Murphy suffer too
     i wanted to write more about Mbege but this chapter was already
     getting really long, so i figured i'd tell you here: when Mbege found
     out that Murphy was put in the SkyBox, he purposefully got himself
     arrested so they could be together because he's that kind of friend
     <3
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     bonfire bonding! Murph and Bell finally interact with other people
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Bellamy approached the bonfire with Murphy at his heels. The pit where it sat
was surrounded by a few logs that were arranged to be used as seats. It had
become a sort of unspoken, designated hangout for the few delinquents in camp
and they would gather there every night after sunset; without any adults
around, they were free to enjoy the sense of familiarity of being around their
own people again, if only for a little while. At the moment, Raven and Finn
were sharing a log, heads propped in their hands, appearing less than
interested in whatever story Sterling was telling from his spot on the ground
next to Monroe. When Finn caught sight of them, he happily diverted his
attention to the pair. “Hey, guys, haven’t seen you around much! What’s up with
that?”
“Oh, you know. Very important business; top secret, of course,” Bellamy offered
with a smirk. Murphy smoothed back his hair, attempting to emit his typical,
indifferent vibe.
“Right,” Finn chuckled. Since Clarke had returned to camp, the boy was back to
his normal, pleasant self. Bellamy was grateful for that, at least. It was one
less thing he had to worry about.
“Seems like the two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together
lately,” Raven said, eyeing Murphy.
“Yeah, I guess,” Bellamy admitted, gesturing toward the younger boy. “He kinda
grows on ya.”
“Like a fungus, maybe,” she scoffed, emphasizing an eye roll. Murphy shifted
uncomfortably.
Bellamy grit his teeth to keep from retaliating. He wanted there to be as
little discord as possible within their misfit family, especially considering
how small it was for the time being. Thankfully, they were interrupted by
someone calling from a few feet away, “Well, look what we have here!” But when
the figure got close enough to the light of the fire for Bellamy to realize who
it was, he felt anything but thankful. Damian sidled up to the circle, claiming
a seat next to Raven on the log. Bellamy placed a steadying hand on Murphy’s
shoulder, noticing that the boy looked about five shades paler than normal.
“You all enjoying the warmth?” Damian asked, and the four teens hummed their
approval. He gave Raven a slight nudge and a fond smile. “How’s my favorite
mechanic?”
The corner of her mouth quirked up as she nudged him back. “Not bad. How’s my
least favorite Chief Guard?” Damian feigned hurt, clutching his heart.
“Pretty sure he’s the only one, Rae. Guess that makes him your favorite and
least favorite,” Sterling teased with a grin.
“Check it out! Logic of steel, that one. I’m glad at least someone around here
has my back,” Damian laughed.
Bellamy was speechless. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why the
others were being so damn friendly with this guy. Bellamy knew they didn’t have
the insight he did, but the delinquents hadn’t warmed up to any of the adults
like this. Why was it different with Damian?
Murphy’s shoulder was impossibly tense under Bellamy’s palm. It was clear that
he was trying to keep cool, but Bellamy couldn’t even imagine the dread he must
have been experiencing. He turned to Murphy and took a step closer to him so
that they wouldn’t be heard by the others and whispered, “Murphy, come on.
Let’s go somewhere else.”
“It’s okay, Bell,” Murphy responded with a shake of his head, but Bellamy
didn't miss the way his voice wavered. “If we don’t stay, they’ll know
something is wrong and I really don’t want anyone asking me about it. And I
definitely don’t want them asking him about it.” Bellamy was about to argue
that it didn’t matter if it looked weird, that they should just leave, but
Murphy was already pulling him to a log on the opposite side of the bonfire. In
the lambent glow of the flames, Bellamy finally noticed patches of mottled skin
snaking out from beneath Damian's sleeves and over the backs of his hands. He
wondered how he missed the scars before.
“So, Raven,” Damian started again, rubbing his palms together for warmth,
“how’s the beacon coming along? Sinclair was telling me about your idea to use
helium for it; I’m pretty sure the word he used was ‘genius.’”
Raven’s face lit up. “It’s going great, actually! Once Wick can get off his ass
and actually get me the parts I need, our radio frequencies will be flawless.”
“I had no doubt that you would think of something. ‘Spose that’s why they say
you’re the best mechanic around,” Damian declared. Raven shrugged, smiling at
the ground, never one to take the credit she deserved. He shifted his gaze to
the pair sitting criss-crossed on the dirt. “You two excited for training
tomorrow?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, we are stoked!” Sterling affirmed, Monroe nodding eagerly beside
him.
Finn cocked his head in question. “Training for what?”
“Combat! Damian’s gonna teach us more about shooting, the proper way to hold a
knife, and where you should target someone if you only want to injure them
versus if you want to kill them. We’ll finally get some practice with a real
guard!” Sterling exclaimed. Bellamy stiffened, feeling insulted despite
himself. When Sterling noticed, he ducked his head sheepishly. “Not that your
lessons weren’t great, Bellamy. It’s just that Damian’s had a lot more
experience.” Bellamy only grunted in response.
Damian turned his attention to Finn. “Hey, how’s Clarke doing? I’m sure she was
relieved to find you alive after what went down at the Dropship.” An easy smile
found its way to Finn’s face. Ugh, not him too. Why were his friends being so
sociable with the man? Bellamy was growing more irritable by the second.
“She’s recovering. Escaping the Mountain Men was rough for her, but she hasn’t
stopped planning a way to get everyone else out of that place. You know how she
is,” Finn responded, pushing some of his too-long hair behind his ear.
Damian nodded. “Speaking of Mount Weather,” he continued, “don’t you think you
should be helping Clarke with that task, Bellamy?”
Too busy stewing in his anger, Bellamy was taken by surprise when he heard his
name. “Excuse me?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“I just thought since you two were sort of like leaders to those kids before
the Ark came down that maybe Clarke shouldn’t have to be dealing with the
burden of rescuing them by herself,” Damian accused. Well, Bellamy couldn’t be
completely sure it was an accusation per say, but it sure felt like one.
“Well, Damian, I’ve been a little busy, actually,” Bellamy fired back. His
statement sounded more aggressive than he originally intended it to, but he
didn’t regret it.
“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’ve been helping Johnny recuperate. My
apologies,” Damian replied, holding up his hands in mock defense.
“Johnny?” Raven jeered.
Bellamy opened his mouth to tell Damian exactly where he could shove his
apologies, but Murphy’s icy glare and callous voice had the smiles slipping
from everyone’s faces as he interjected, “It’s ‘Murphy’ now.”
“Well I think we’re a little closer than that, don’t you?” Damian displayed a
sharp grin, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He didn’t miss the
hint of a shudder that passed through Murphy. But neither did Bellamy.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, sir?” Bellamy quipped, exaggerating the
title as he inched closer to Murphy, which didn’t go unnoticed by a curious
Raven.
Finn was casting confused glances between the two men. “Bellamy…”
“No, no, he’s right. Keeping this camp safe from the savages is a never-ending
job, after all, but an important one as well. You kids don’t stay up too late,
alright?” Damian stood, and walked by Murphy on his way to the gate, ruffling
the boy’s hair as he passed. Murphy flinched from the unexpected contact,
earning him some perplexed looks from the other teens.
“Okay, mind telling the rest of us what that was all about, Bellamy?” Raven was
on her feet now with her hands on her hips, demanding an explanation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy sighed, eyes glued to the
fire. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation from Raven about his
unusual behavior.
“Like hell you don’t! What’s your damage? You may not like authority, but at
least Damian gives a shit about us. That’s more than can be said for the other
adults here.” She turned, directing her anger at Murphy. “And what about you,
‘Johnny?’ You couldn’t have been a bigger asshole if you tried.”
“Screw you, Reyes,” Murphy countered, but his words were quiet and lacking
their usual snark.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she argued, narrowing her eyes, “is that Damian’s special pet
name for you? Or does Bellamy get to call you that, too?”
Murphy immediately felt sick from her implication. He tried to form an insult,
something that would effectively validate her hatred toward him for good, but
Bellamy was quicker to react.
“Go to hell, Raven,” he spat, voice hostile. He hoisted Murphy to his feet and
guided him away from the circle.
After a moment of stunned silence, they heard a frustrated Raven yell, “Are you
kidding me? Ugh!” Soft sounds of Finn attempting to calm her down drifted
around the crackling fire.
Once they were a good few yards away from the others, Bellamy consoled, “I’m
sorry, Murph. Raven wouldn’t have said those things if she knew what Damian is
actually like. You know that, right?”
“I’m not upset with her. Honestly, she’s got a good reason to hate me. I hoped
maybe we could reconcile someday but I think I just added a lot more fuel to
the fire instead,” Murphy said with a melancholic shrug.
“Raven’s just hotheaded. She’ll come around,” Bellamy reasoned. He hoped he was
right. “But more importantly, are you okay?”
“I’m a little shaken up is all. Thanks for defending me, Bellamy.”
“It was noth-” Murphy silenced Bellamy with a hand on his chest.
“I mean it. Protecting me from Damian is one thing, but standing up to Raven on
my behalf is something entirely different, since you guys are actually friends.
That couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Bellamy stared back at the boy. He had never allowed himself to pay much
attention to Murphy’s physical features before, deciding early on that
developing feelings for any of the hundred would cause too many problems. But
now, it was like Bellamy was seeing him for the first time. Murphy’s milky
white skin practically glowed under the moonlight. The sharp angles of his
nose, jaw, and cheekbones were unusually stunning, and he had the bluest eyes
Bellamy had ever seen.
His gaze lingered for a second too long on Murphy’s mouth and the way the boy’s
lower lip was caught between his teeth; it was almost painful to look away. For
once in his life, Bellamy was at a loss for words. He snapped back to reality
when he heard Murphy’s anxiousness. “Bell?”
He cleared his throat but his voice was husky when he spoke, “Well, I care
about you.”
After a moment of silence, Murphy surged forward, pressing his lips against
Bellamy’s in a chaste kiss. Bellamy was shocked, but remained still,
transfixed. The connection was gone as quickly as it came when Murphy pulled
back, an apology already spilling out of his mouth. “I-I’m so sorry. I don’t
know what came over me. I just…please don’t be mad, Bellamy, it won’t happen
again. I’m so-” he was cut off as Bellamy put a hand on the back of his neck,
drawing him in for another, deeper kiss. When he finally felt Murphy’s body
relax, Bellamy sucked on his lower lip, which was now swollen and red. Murphy
pushed his tongue into the other’s mouth and Bellamy heard a moan, but he
blushed as he realized that the sound had come from him. He broke the kiss
first, placing their foreheads together, a smile creeping onto his face. “Wow,”
Murphy breathed, the two of them lightly panting.
Bellamy turned to head back toward the Ark, chuckling, “Come on, let’s get you
to bed. It’s been a long day.” Murphy hesitated. He hadn’t told Bellamy yet
that Jackson had finally cleared him from medical. “What’s wrong?”
Murphy kicked at the dirt idly while he explained, “Well, Jackson decided since
I’m not a danger to myself anymore that I don’t have to continue sleeping in
the exam room. But I don’t really have my own place or anything, I mean
I…what?” Bellamy was grinning from ear to ear, and unless Murphy missed
something, he was pretty sure having to sleep outside wasn’t a reason to be
happy.
“Murph, Jackson already talked to me. He suggested that the two of us just
share a room. It makes the most sense, I’ve already been sleeping by your table
every night and this way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you without waking up
stiff as hell,” Bellamy joked.
“Oh,” Murphy blanched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Well, um. Are you sure
you’re okay with that? What about-”
“We just had our tongues down each other’s throats. Do you really think I’m
gonna mind sharing a room with you?” Bellamy was still smiling, and Murphy
couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Okay. Thanks, Bell.”
“Of course. Now come on, I’m freezing my ass off,” Bellamy laughed, and
gestured for Murphy to follow him.
They reached the room a couple minutes later, but both boys were shivering by
the time they got there. This particular room was just big enough for two twin
beds with a decently-sized nightstand situated between them against the wall
opposite from the door. Each bed had a fur blanket and lumpy pillow, but it was
better than anything they’d slept on back at the Dropship. Still not used to
the coldness of Earth, Murphy trembled and rubbed his hands together as he
kicked off his boots. Bellamy guided him to the bed on the right side of the
room, pulling the blanket down and motioning for the boy to get in. Normally
Murphy would have felt silly, but he happily slid underneath the fur and hid a
smile when Bellamy laid it over him and smoothed his hair back. Bellamy was
used to doing the same for Octavia.
Despite the warmth from the covers, Murphy’s teeth continued to chatter.
Bellamy frowned and felt the boy’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Jesus,
Murph. Your skin is like ice!”
Murphy turned to face the wall and suppressed another shiver. “Nah, ‘m fine.
Jus’ needa warm up a bit s’all,” he mumbled, eyes already closed. He heard
Bellamy rustling around and assumed he was changing. Murphy suddenly felt a
weight next to him on the small mattress and the familiar sensation made his
stomach churn for a second, but when he looked over his shoulder to see Bellamy
with the other fur and pillow gathered in his arms, he settled. “What’re you
doing?”
“Do you want me to sleep next to you for the night? We’ll have two blankets
that way, and you can absorb my warmth. I have plenty to spare.” Bellamy
flashed a dorky grin at him. How could anyone say no to that face?
“That’d be nice,” Murphy replied, scooting over to give Bellamy enough room to
crawl in behind him. Once they were finally situated, Bellamy wrapped a
tentative arm around Murphy’s waist.
“Is this okay?” he asked gently, and Murphy nodded his approval, drifting off
to sleep shortly thereafter.
Chapter End Notes
     a little bit of fluff to go with all this angst
     i’m sorry Raven is kind of bitchy in this chapter. don’t worry, there
     are better interactions on the horizon
     i also apologize for giving Monroe zero speaking lines, but she
     doesn't strike me as the talkative type
     sidenote: i did extensive research on grit vs. gritted but it was
     pretty much inconclusive so
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     and now, for the smut we've all been waiting for
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Murphy awoke the next morning with a gasp. He bolted upright in bed, breathing
heavily from whatever nightmare he’d been suffering through this time,
startling a groggy Bellamy, who was sprawled half on top of him. Bellamy’s
voice was rough from sleep as he groaned, “Hmmm?” Not fully aware of his
surroundings yet, Murphy flinched from the noise, which caused Bellamy to snap
to his senses. He sat up quickly and carded his fingers through Murphy’s hair,
speaking calmly, “Hey, it’s just me, Bellamy. You’re in bed in our new room,
okay? I got you.”
Murphy’s heartbeat returned to normal as memories of the conversation about
their new sleeping arrangement resurfaced. He took a couple deep breaths and
nodded, letting Bellamy know he was alright. When he had calmed down
sufficiently, he reclined and curled toward Bellamy (who had apparently taken
his shirt off at some point during the night, not that Murphy was complaining),
nuzzling into his side. Bellamy placed a strong arm around his shoulders and
gave the lightest squeeze. Suddenly, images of last night’s kiss appeared in
Murphy’s mind and he felt his face get hot. Did he really kiss Bellamy Blake?
And had Bellamy actually kissed him back?? Murphy snuck a peek at his face, and
found that Bellamy was watching him fondly. He blushed harder. “Uhm. Good
morning,” he said quietly.
“Mornin’,” Bellamy mumbled, smiling. Fuck, his sleepy voice was sexy.
Apparently there wasn’t a single thing about Bellamy that wasn’t perfect.
Murphy huffed.
“Nice bedhead,” he teased, reaching a hand up to play with Bellamy’s dark,
unruly curls.
“Don’t make fun of me, it’s too early!” Bellamy whined. “I’m vulnerable when
I’m tired.” He stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. Murphy felt an
overwhelming urge to bite that lip, but he restrained himself. Maybe last night
was a fluke. Bellamy had probably forgotten about it already.
They spent the next several minutes with Murphy snuggled against Bellamy’s
warmth and Bellamy drawing patterns with his finger on Murphy’s arm. Then
Murphy stretched and yawned, making a high-pitched noise in the process, and
suddenly Bellamy was…he was giggling. “What’s so funny?!” Murphy snapped.
“It’s just…that was so cute!” Bellamy managed between laughs. Embarrassed,
Murphy decided he had to get even. Without a second thought he dug his fingers
into Bellamy’s ribs, tickling them across his torso.
The older boy roared loudly, gasping for air, and pleading for mercy. “No,
stop! Murphy! Please, that’s not fair!” he howled, thrashing around but still
careful not to hurt the other. Bellamy grabbed Murphy around the waist and
rolled both of them so that the boy was sitting atop him now, legs straddling
his midsection. Murphy felt his heart race as he looked down at Bellamy’s half-
lidded gaze. Slowly, Bellamy ran a hand up Murphy’s back, behind his neck, and
gently pulled him forward to capture his lips with his own. Murphy shuddered,
and Bellamy smiled into the kiss. Without thinking, Murphy began to glide his
palms over Bellamy’s defined arms and chest, mapping his body, trying to commit
to memory exactly how every rise and fall of muscle or bone felt under his
fingertips. Murphy wanted to live in this moment forever.
The kiss, which started off simple and sweet, gradually became sloppier as
their desire increased, teeth and tongues clashing in a battle for dominance.
Soon, Bellamy was rolling his hips up while Murphy trailed kisses along his
jaw, across his clavicle, down his chest. He flicked his tongue over each of
Bellamy’s nipples, and the older boy groaned, putting a hand on Murphy’s lower
back to hold him in place and grinding up once more, particularly hard. A loud
moan escaped Murphy’s lips, and that was all Bellamy could stand. In an instant
he wrapped his arms around the boy and flipped them over so that Murphy was
lying supine beneath him, and Bellamy was between his legs. “Is this fine?” He
asked, breathlessly. Murphy nodded eagerly, unable to form words. “Good.” He
smiled, and pressed their mouths together again.
He nibbled at Murphy’s lower lip while expertly removing the younger boy’s
shirt. Murphy dragged his fingers down Bellamy’s exposed back, leaving long,
red marks in his wake. Bellamy growled and latched his mouth onto Murphy’s
right collarbone, sucking and biting just hard enough to make Murphy squirm.
When he released, Bellamy sat back on his haunches and examined the blooming
hickey, which stood out in stark contrast against the boy’s translucent skin.
He traced his eyes over Murphy, admiring his dilated pupils and swollen lips.
Murphy propped himself up on his elbows, questioning, “Why’d you stop?”
Bellamy reached out and stroked his thumb across Murphy’s bottom lip. “Just
enjoying the view,” he drawled. Murphy blushed at the compliment. Grinning,
Bellamy dropped his head to Murphy’s stomach and began peppering his abdomen
with delicate kisses.
Murphy wiggled beneath him. “That tickles, Bell!” he laughed, writhing around
on the mattress. Murphy went silent when Bellamy planted a single, long kiss
low on his pelvic bone and locked eyes with him.
The corner of Bellamy’s mouth quirked up. His deep voice was rich and velvety
when he hinted, “Tell me what you want.”
Murphy’s stomach flipped. What did he want? He had been too focused on feeling
and experiencing and savoring, not thinking. He swallowed and whispered, barely
loud enough for Bellamy to hear, “I want you.”
That was all Bellamy needed. He smirked, and dove down to mouth at Murphy’s
growing erection through his sweatpants. The boy closed his eyes and allowed
his head to loll back, another moan escaping him. Bellamy adjusted his position
so that he could remove Murphy’s pants, careful to avoid his stitches, and toss
them to the floor. He noted that Murphy’s arousal matched his own: cock stiff,
precum already glistening at the slit. But Bellamy was only focused on Murphy’s
pleasure right now. He wanted to make the boy feel good for a change.
Murphy sank back on the bed. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything
seemed hazy and surreal, almost like he was dreaming. But Murphy never dreamt
of anything good nowadays, so he happily accepted this as reality. Lost in
sensation, he hardly registered Bellamy’s words. “Let me know at any point if
you want to stop, okay?” Murphy hummed absently to let Bellamy know he
understood, but it wouldn’t be an issue; he never wanted Bellamy to stop
touching him.
The older boy licked a long stripe from the base of Murphy’s length to the tip,
flicking his tongue across the head to lap at the sticky, salty precum gathered
there. Murphy gasped, balling his fists in the blanket underneath him. Bellamy
repeated this action several times until Murphy was whining. He then wrapped
his hand around Murphy’s cock and started stroking slowly while he kissed and
sucked at the boy’s hips. “Bellamy,” Murphy groaned, desperate for more.
Hearing Murphy say his own name with such need sent a jolt of arousal straight
to Bellamy’s groin. He picked up speed, pumping quickly and enjoying the
lustful whimpers he got in return.
When Murphy began to arch his hips, Bellamy placed a hand on his stomach to
still him and took the thick cock in his mouth, sucking hard and bobbing his
head impossibly fast. “Oh god,” Murphy choked, tangling a hand in Bellamy’s
curls. His motions were exactly the right amount of rough: lips curled tight
around Murphy’s length, teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin, tongue
swirling around the head every time he lifted up, just the way Bellamy liked it
himself. After only a few minutes of this, Murphy’s legs were quivering, and he
knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Murphy stuttered, “Bell, I’m…I’m gonna…”
Bellamy pushed his head down further so that Murphy’s cock was hitting the back
of his throat. Murphy made a strangled noise as he climaxed, cum filling the
other’s mouth. Bellamy swallowed around him, Adam’s apple bobbing, and pulled
off slowly, allowing the boy to adjust.
Murphy felt calm, but also something more than that. Euphoric, maybe. He smiled
lazily at Bellamy as he moved to lay on his side next to Murphy, pulling the
fur back up over their bodies. Murphy rolled over and cupped Bellamy’s face,
kissing him without finesse, enjoying the fact that he could taste himself on
the other’s tongue. Bellamy chuckled against his lips, and wrapped an arm
around Murphy’s waist, drawing him to his chest. Murphy peered up at him
through his bangs. “What about you?” he asked. He could feel Bellamy’s erection
against his leg. “I can-”
Bellamy shushed him, “Shh. I’m fine. I just wanna focus on you right now.”
Murphy shrugged. “You deserve something too, though.”
“You know what’ll make me happy?” Murphy cocked his head in question. “Just lay
here and cuddle with me awhile. That’s what I want,” he explained, placing a
kiss on top of Murphy’s head. The boy grinned and snuggled further into
Bellamy’s embrace, succumbing to post-orgasm bliss. They remained that way for
some time, listening to each other breathing, when a knock at the door startled
them both and nearly caused Bellamy to tumble off the bed. They looked at the
clock, which read 4:54 AM, and shared a confused glance, wondering who would be
at the door this early. Bellamy stood, hollering, “Just a sec!” while Murphy
pulled the covers up over his head and pretended to be asleep.
The older boy yanked a shirt on and ran a hand through his tousled hair in an
attempt to make it appear like he hadn’t just been doing something that he
definitely shouldn't have been doing. He opened the door and was surprised to
find Jackson on the other side, smiling, and far too chipper for 5am. “Good
morning, Mr. Blake,” he greeted. “Sorry if I woke you. I’m here to change
John’s bandages and give him his medicine.”
Bellamy thought about the hickeys he’d given Murphy a little bit ago.
“Actually, Jackson, he finally just fell asleep. Nightmares, y’know. Why don’t
you leave the supplies and when he wakes up I can take care of it,” Bellamy
offered, hoping the nurse would agree.
Jackson looked at the Murphy-shaped lump on the mattress for a moment, then
back at Bellamy. “I suppose that’s fine. Make sure you clean it thoroughly
though, an infection is the last thing he needs. And see that he has something
to eat, along with a full eight ounces of water when he takes the painkillers.”
Bellamy nodded as Jackson handed everything over. “I’ll be back in a few hours
to check on him again.” Jackson turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and one more
thing.”
“Sir?” Bellamy asked, facing the nurse.
Jackson glanced back at the young boy on the bed, then locked eyes with
Bellamy, an empathetic look on his face. “Be careful.”
“Of course.” Bellamy understood exactly what he meant. Jackson may have been
unassuming, but he wasn’t naive. The nurse departed, and Bellamy closed the
door. From his spot under the blanket, Murphy grumbled something that Bellamy
couldn’t quite make out. “Come again?”
Murphy shifted, poking his head out from the fur. “I said you’re a shit liar,”
he repeated with a smirk.
“Am not!” Bellamy defended.
“You so are,” Murphy snorted. “How much you wanna bet I’ll be getting a ‘safe
sex’ talk from Jackson later? Thanks a lot.”
“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy joked. He grabbed the bottle of painkillers,
twisting off the cap and handing two to Murphy along with his canteen. “Here,
take these, but be sure to drink all of that. We can go get some breakfast
after I change your bandage. They’re serving fresh berries and nuts again
today!” Bellamy’s face lit up, and Murphy couldn’t help but smile back at him.
He seemed so innocent right now with his huge grin and messy hair. It was hard
to imagine this was the same person who’d had Murphy’s dick down his throat not
even twenty minutes ago.
“Sounds good,” Murphy sighed. He thought for a moment, and then added, “Thanks,
Bellamy.”
Bellamy furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what?”
Murphy shrugged one shoulder. “For everything, I guess.” Bellamy smiled again
and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead before starting on his stitches.
Murphy decided he could get used to this.
Chapter End Notes
     why does Bellamy always know what’s on the menu, you ask? because
     he’s fuckin obsessed with food
     also the safe sex talk with Jackson was about as awkward as everyone
     was expecting it to be, just so y’all know
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     sorry it took me a little longer to post this chapter, for some
     reason i couldn't get it quite right. but this is as good as it's
     going to get so here you go.
     trigger warning for attempted sexual assault
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
After breakfast, Bellamy ushered Murphy back to their room to rest longer.
Murphy may have been cleared from medical, but Jackson had been adamant about
not letting him be assigned to work detail yet; his wounds weren’t healed
enough for any strenuous activity. Murphy pouted the whole way back. It wasn’t
that he wanted to work, necessarily, but he also wasn’t looking forward to
lying awake in bed all day waiting for Bellamy to return. The older boy was
feeling more and more guilty about his inaction concerning the other
delinquents, so he decided he’d spend the day with Clarke to construct a game
plan for retrieving their friends from Mount Weather. Murphy knew Bellamy was
needed elsewhere, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
“I don’t see why Kane can’t help the princess instead. Isn’t that his job as
Chancellor?” Murphy whined. His pace was unbearably slow as he tried to prolong
his last few minutes with Bellamy.
“Normally, yes, but he’s apparently trying to be an ambassador of sorts right
now,” Bellamy explained. “I heard he took a Grounder prisoner with him to speak
to the Trikru Commander about a peace treaty or something. The whole situation
sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, if you ask me.” Murphy nodded along
as they arrived at their room, only half paying attention. Politics had always
bored him. Bellamy recognized Murphy’s silence for what it was, though, and
shoved the boy lightly, grinning. “Are you even listening?”
“Yeah, yeah. Self-Sacrificing Kane, Angry Grounder Leader, Imminent Death.
What’s new?” Murphy smirked.
A playful look crossed Bellamy’s face and Murphy didn’t have time to react
before the other had him pinned against the door with his own body. Bellamy
leaned down, kissing the side of Murphy’s neck. He mumbled something that
included the word ‘punk,’ but his voice was full of affection. Murphy spun his
head to the left and right, scanning the hall for anyone that might witness
their compromising position. “Bell, what if someone sees?”
Bellamy pulled back, looking more than a little confused. “Would it bother
you?”
“No,” Murphy corrected, diverting his eyes to the floor, “I figured it would
bother you.”
Bellamy lifted his chin and pressed their lips together pointedly. Murphy
melted into the kiss. After a few seconds, Bellamy broke away, placing his
forehead on Murphy’s and holding his gaze. “Do I seem bothered?” he asked.
Murphy simply smiled and kissed him back in response.
They finally parted and Murphy entered their room, slumping back against the
door as he tried to quell the butterflies in his stomach. He knew that this was
all temporary; with Octavia gone, Bellamy needed someone to take care of, and
since Murphy was currently in physical danger and emotional pain, he supposed
he was an obvious choice. Once the other teens were rescued and things returned
to pseudo-normal, Bellamy would come to his senses. He wondered briefly if
maybe a part of Bellamy secretly wanted this from the beginning too, but Murphy
had learned a long time ago that hope was impractical and you’d always end up
disappointed. Oh well. When it came to Bellamy Blake, he would take what he
could get.
Murphy started to change, but only got as far as removing his shirt before a
knock at the door had him jumping in surprise. Bellamy must have left something
behind. Murphy smirked and opened the door, a teasing insult about Bellamy’s
forgetfulness on the tip of his tongue, but he was greeted instead by a hand on
his chest forcing him backwards into the room. Murphy’s stomach dropped as
Damian stepped into the space, closing and locking the door behind him.
“Hey there, Johnny. Nice little room you got yourself, here,” Damian noted,
scanning the surroundings. Murphy edged away from him until his back was flush
against the dresser. “Now how does a delinquent like you land a place like
this, hmm?”
“W-what are you doing here, Damian?” Murphy stammered, ignoring his question.
Damian dramatically put a hand on his own chest, pretending to be insulted.
“Can’t a guy just spend some quality time with an old friend?” he asked.
“A guy? Yes. You?” Murphy scoffed, “I don’t think so.”
Damian opened his mouth to retaliate, but he caught sight of the dark bruise of
a hickey on Murphy’s collarbone. Anger flashed across the man’s face and Murphy
swallowed, knowing that whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t going to be
good. “What the fuck is that?” When Murphy didn’t respond, Damian roughly
grabbed his forearm, causing him to yelp. “That Blake kid has been fooling
around with you, hasn’t he?” he growled. Tears stung Murphy’s eyes as he tried
to free himself from the man’s hold.
“P-please, Damian, stop!”
“Did you let him fuck you? Huh? Or did you suck his dick and let him cum in
that pretty mouth of yours?”
“No! It’s just a bruise, I-I swear I didn’t do anything! Please!” Murphy
begged, and the tears began to flow freely down his cheeks.
Damian tightened his grip, sneering, “Don’t lie to me, Johnny. We both know
you’d drop to your knees for any guy that gave you the time of day. Isn’t that
right, you little whore?”
Murphy let out a sob, unable to form words anymore. Damian released his arm,
only to shove him to his knees a moment later. He didn’t have a chance to react
before the man grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and tugged,
forcing Murphy to look up at him. “Now, you’re gonna demonstrate for me exactly
what you did for that boy.”
Damian began to unbuckle his belt as Murphy whimpered useless pleas, choking
back the bile rising in his throat. Suddenly he was eleven again, paralyzed and
helpless, being forced to submit to the predator that plagued his nightmares
for years. Across the room, the doorknob rattled and Jackson’s concerned voice
could be heard from outside. “John? Is everything all right?”
Before Murphy was able to speak, Damian clapped a hand over his mouth and bent
down to whisper in his ear, “Say anything and you’ll fucking regret it.” Murphy
didn’t respond, but the look of panic in his eyes must have been answer enough
for Damian because the man was already fixing his belt and striding toward the
door. He opened it only slightly, blocking Jackson’s view, and greeted the
nurse. “Hello, Jackson. What brings you by here?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing, Damian.”
“Johnny and I are just catching up, we haven’t had a chance to talk much since
he got to camp.” Damian offered a friendly smile completely unlike the
animalistic ones that only Murphy witnessed.
“Well, I’m here to change John’s bandages and give him his medication, so I
will need you to step aside, please.”
Damian tensed almost imperceptibly. “Oh, you can go ahead and just leave the
stuff with me, I’ll be sure to take care of it. You’re probably pretty busy
down in the medical ward.”
“That won’t be necessary. Dr. Griffin has everything under control at the
moment. Now, excuse me,” Jackson said, brushing past Damian. Murphy was still
on the floor, and when Jackson caught sight of him he dropped to his side
without hesitation. “John, what happened?” Damian began to fake a reason, but
Jackson interrupted, holding up a hand, “I’m not asking you, Damian.” He turned
his head back to Murphy, waiting for an answer.
From behind Jackson, Damian shook his head slowly, causing a chill to run down
Murphy’s spine. He lowered his gaze, mumbling an excuse. “It’s fine, I just
fell.”
Jackson furrowed his brow, helping the boy to his feet and onto the bed. Damian
chuckled, “You know our Johnny, he never was one for grace.”
The nurse spun to face him. “Damian, I think it would be best for you to
leave,” he warned.
The sternness in Jackson’s voice took the other man by surprise, and he blinked
dumbly for a second before arguing, “I don’t see any reason for me to go.” He
crossed his arms.
“Well, I’m sure Chancellor Kane will be thrilled to hear that his Chief Guard
has been spending time away from his post while on-duty,” Jackson countered,
taking a step toward Damian.
The two men held each other’s stare, the air thick with tension. After what
seemed like ages with Murphy glancing between them, Damian finally sneered a
half-smile at Jackson, relenting, “Fine, I’m going. See you around, Johnny.” He
exited the room, and Murphy breathed a sigh of relief.
Jackson turned back to Murphy. “Are you all right, John?” Murphy only nodded.
He didn’t trust himself not to start crying if he tried to talk just yet.
Jackson made sure Murphy’s stitches were intact and replaced the bandage with a
fresh one. He motioned to the bruise on Murphy’s collarbone. “Did Damian do
that?”

Murphy shook his head. “No, he didn’t have a chance to hurt me. Thanks to you,
that is,” he added, offering Jackson a hint of a smile. Murphy wasn’t good at
showing gratitude, but at least he was making an effort.

Jackson returned the smile and placed a comforting hand on Murphy’s knee. “I
wanted to talk to you about that, actually. It was simply by chance that I
passed your room on my way to the medical wing and heard you yell. I may have
been able to intervene this time, but it isn’t safe for you to be alone right
now, John. Especially since Damian is still in a position of power, it’s easy
for him to get away with things that he shouldn’t, such as leaving his post in
favor of roaming the camp and ‘socializing’ with the public. If it’s all right
with you, I would like to talk to Kane about having a guard assigned to be with
you when Bellamy is unavailable.”
“Wouldn’t that be suspicious? I don’t want Kane asking too many questions about
why I need to be protected.”
“Well,” Jackson hummed, pursing his lips, “I could tell the Chancellor that
it’s for the safety of everyone else, instead of you.”
A mischievous grin spread across Murphy’s face. “You mean like I’ll be the
dangerous one?”
“If that will make you feel more comfortable.”
“Oh yeah,” Murphy nodded emphatically. “Sign me the fuck up.”
Chapter End Notes
     Jackson is the hero we need and deserve
     i'll try to have the next chapter up within a couple days, and it's
     definitely going to be longer :)
     thanks again to everyone who has been reading this fic, i love you
     all!!! <3
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     this chapter ended up having to be shorter because the next one is
     going to be quite a bit longer, but at least this one is happy!
     enjoy <3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Seriously? A danger to the public?”
Bellamy placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the new arrangement, and
although he tried to come across as disapproving, Murphy could see the smile
playing at at his lips.
“What can I say?” Murphy said with a smirk, “It’s not my fault you have a thing
for bad boys.”
“You? A bad boy?” Bellamy snorted loudly, earning him an elbow to the ribs. The
guard that had been appointed to keep a watchful eye on Murphy stepped forward
in warning, but Bellamy waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, I’ve got it from
here.” With a curt nod, the guard spun on his heel and headed for his post at
the main gate. Bellamy plopped down at the lunch table next to Murphy and shook
his head, black curls bobbing back and forth. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably handsome.”
“You’ve got me there,” Bellamy agreed with a smile.
Murphy bit his lower lip to keep from grinning like a teenage boy with a crush.
And, well, he technically was, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. He
decided to change the subject. “So, how’s the Mount Weather plan coming along?”
As soon as the question left his mouth, Bellamy let his head drop to the table
with a loud thunk, groaning dramatically. Murphy stifled a laugh. “That bad,
huh?”
“Even with help from the Grounders, until that acid fog is disabled, we’re
basically sitting ducks. What good is an army if we can’t use it?” Bellamy
grumbled as he grabbed his canteen.
Murphy noticed that the older boy looked like he hadn’t slept for days. Which,
in all honesty, he probably hadn’t. Murphy offered his best sympathetic face
and propped his chin on Bellamy’s shoulder, softening his tone as he asked,
“Will it make you feel better if I suck your dick?”
Bellamy choked on his water and attempted to catch his breath between coughs
and fits of loud laughter, causing more than a few heads in the cafeteria to
turn their way. Although he hadn’t meant it to be funny, Murphy smiled anyway,
glad that he could at least make Bellamy happy for the moment. “You’re so
charming,” he chuckled as he wiped tears from his eyes.
“I’m serious, Bell. You’ve made me feel good.” Murphy scooted closer to Bellamy
and lowered his voice. “It’s my turn to please you.”
A smile slowly spread across Bellamy’s face. He reached a hand over to tuck
some of Murphy’s hair behind his ear and pulled him in for a kiss. When they
parted, Murphy noticed groups of Arkers and Grounders alike staring at them
from around the lunchroom with varying levels of curiosity, but Bellamy didn’t
seem to mind. “I would love that,” he sighed, adding, “but only if you’re sure
you want to.”
Murphy’s face suddenly became very serious, and Bellamy was worried that
perhaps he had said something offensive, but Murphy clarified, “Bellamy Blake.
If you couldn’t tell that I’ve wanted to suck your dick since we first landed
on this godforsaken planet, then you’re dumber than I thought you were.” He
smirked cockily when Bellamy’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You did? Really?”
“The fact that I just called you dumb didn’t even register in that thick head
of yours, did it?”
Bellamy rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush slightly, and grinned. “Shut
up, Murphy.”
Murphy leaned close to Bellamy’s ear, hot breath ghosting over his freckled
skin making Bellamy shudder, and whispered, “Make me.”
Bellamy never knew he could get so hard so fast.
The trip back to their quarters took twice as long as it should have, but
Bellamy couldn’t resist stopping every other minute to pin Murphy up against
any available surface and cover him in kisses, too eager to wait until they
reached the room. Murphy was vaguely reminded of the cheesy romantic comedies
they used to watch for movie night on the Ark, but he smiled into the kisses
anyway.
During one particularly heated moment where Bellamy almost abandoned his sense
of decency, wanting to strip Murphy of his clothing right there in the hallway,
Clarke rounded the corner and caught sight of Bellamy before she noticed
anything else. Startled, he whipped his head around when he heard her voice.
“Bellamy, I’m glad I found you. Kane and I were going to- oh!” She stopped
short as she looked up from the map she was holding and saw that Murphy was
trapped between a surprised Bellamy and a closet door, eyes wide and face
flushed. Clarke brought a hand up to her mouth, clearly flustered, but her eyes
were twinkling with barely-contained laughter. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to
interrupt.” A giggle slipped from between her lips as her skin turned bright
pink. She gestured to the map. “This can wait, I’ll just…leave you to it.”
Clarke offered the pair an understanding nod and retreated around the corner as
Murphy thumped his head back against the door in exasperation.
“Great, we’re never gonna live that one down,” he whined.
“Oh come one, Murph. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
Murphy opened his mouth to argue but they could already hear Clarke’s faint
giggling and hushed whispers from a few yards away as she undoubtedly relayed
the story to some poor, unsuspecting soul. He cocked an eyebrow. “You were
saying?” Instead of responding, Bellamy smiled sheepishly and pecked Murphy’s
lips once more before lacing their fingers together and pulling him down the
hallway.
When they finally got to their door, Bellamy backed Murphy into the room,
tugging impatiently at his shirt as he nibbled on the boy’s earlobe. The back
of Murphy’s knees hit the bed and he sat on the mattress, looking up at Bellamy
with an anxious grin. Bellamy swiftly removed his shirt and was about to join
him on the bed, but Murphy stopped him, placing his hands on Bellamy’s hips. He
stilled immediately, afraid he’d gone too far, and caressed the side of
Murphy’s face, concern evident in his voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No! No, of course not, I just want to…um…” Murphy blushed as he shifted to the
floor, propping himself on his knees at Bellamy’s feet. “Like this,” he
finished shyly, biting his lip. Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat as he looked
down at Murphy’s flushed cheeks, enjoying the beautiful image before him. It
was like a dream come true.
“God, you’re incredible.”
Murphy hid an embarrassed smile as he made quick work of removing Bellamy’s
belt and unzipping his pants. His hands shook with anticipation as he freed
Bellamy’s impressive length from his boxers. Bellamy ran his fingers through
Murphy’s soft hair, inhaling sharply when he felt him place a delicate kiss on
the tip of his cock. Soon, the wet heat of Murphy’s mouth enveloped him, and
Bellamy was pleasantly surprised at how much Murphy was able to take in.
Bellamy groaned as Murphy began to bob his head, relishing the adorable choked
noises the boy made while Bellamy’s cock hit the back of his throat. Murphy
hummed in satisfaction and Bellamy shivered, feeling the vibration throughout
his shaft. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, using all of his energy to
focus on not thrusting further into Murphy’s mouth. When he reopened his eyes,
his breath hitched as he realized Murphy was peering up at him through his
lashes, expression full of lust. Murphy reached tentatively for Bellamy’s hand,
guiding it to the back of his head, and intertwined Bellamy’s fingers in his
hair. He tugged experimentally, eliciting a lewd moan from Murphy, which caused
his cock to twitch in excitement. Murphy nodded as he sucked, insinuating that
he wanted Bellamy to continue. He pulled a little harder and growled.
Murphy slipped a hand down his sweatpants and started stroking himself,
desperate to relieve the aching throb of his own erection. Bellamy began moving
his hips, keeping a firm hold on Murphy’s hair as he thrust gently. A blush
started to creep out from beneath the collar of Murphy’s t-shirt, spreading up
his neck as he pumped faster. When his moans became more frequent and noisier,
Bellamy felt his own orgasm building, tingling through his body. He groaned,
and huffed out a breathy “Murph,” before the younger boy gripped Bellamy’s
thigh hard with his other hand, pushing himself forward so that Bellamy’s cock
was as far down Murphy’s throat as it could go. Murphy simultaneously worked
his throat and sucked as he jerked himself a few more times, finally coming in
his pants, but it was his muffled whimper that pushed Bellamy over the edge.
“Murphy, fuck,” he grunted, as he shot his load into the other’s mouth. The boy
swallowed and pulled off with an obscene pop as Bellamy remembered to untangle
his hand from Murphy’s hair.
Bellamy pulled Murphy unceremoniously to his feet, capturing his lips in a
clumsy kiss before collapsing with him onto the mattress, panting. Murphy
observed Bellamy out of the corner of his eye, all tousled hair and glistening
skin and utter perfection. Bellamy crossed his arms behind his head and turned
to face him with a huge grin plastered on his face. “Wow,” he breathed.
A small smile graced Murphy’s lips as he curled against the older boy’s side.
Bellamy toyed absently with Murphy’s tangled locks for a few minutes,
contemplating if there was any possible way he could convince Murphy to let him
braid his hair, but suddenly Murphy pushed away from him and sat up, locking
eyes with Bellamy. He was about to ask what was wrong, when Murphy blurted,
“Are we friends?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like he wanted
to take them back, dropping his gaze to where his fingers were distractedly
fiddling with the edge of the blanket. Bellamy furrowed his brow.
“Yeah? Aren’t we?” There was a confused smirk tugging at the corner of his
mouth. “We share a room, eat lunch together every day, hang out when I’m not
working…we’ve sucked each other’s dicks. I think that kinda qualifies, don’t
you?”
Murphy wanted to kiss that stupid, smug smile off his face. He settled for
rolling his eyes instead. “What I meant was, what’s gonna happen when everyone
else gets back? When the Rebel King and the Princess inevitably save the day
and rescue the helpless and such.”
Bellamy sat up, growing more serious. “What are you talking about, Murph?”
“I mean, I know this is like…” Murphy trailed off and waved a hand between
their two bodies ambiguously. “Convenient. Or whatever.” He shrugged,
disregarding the vaguely hurt expression on Bellamy’s face. “But what about
when the others return? Are we still going to be friends? Or does everything go
back to the way it was before?” He could see Bellamy’s jaw clenching and
unclenching.

“Is that what this is to you? Convenient?”
Murphy blinked for a moment, surprised at the hard edge to Bellamy’s voice.
“What? No, I just…I thought that-” Murphy cut himself off with a frustrated
huff as he closed his eyes. He swallowed around the lump in his throat before
continuing, “I figured once things are normal again, there won’t be any reason
for you to waste your time with an outcast like me.” He looked back down at his
hands, uncomfortable with the raw candor of vulnerability.
Bellamy gently lifted his chin, forcing Murphy to meet his eyes. The distress
had vanished from his features, replaced with an easy fondness. “You’re not an
outcast. Besides, what makes you think I don’t want this just as much as you
do?”
“Because you’re smart and charming and brave and gorgeous and I’m…” Worthless.
Destructive. Cruel. Broken. “You know. Murphy.”
Bellamy was well acquainted with the self-deprecating expression the younger
boy wore. Empathy bubbled up in his chest, causing him to lean forward and kiss
Murphy softly. Bellamy pulled back just barely and whispered against his lips,
“You’re so much more than that, John.”
Rolling off of Bellamy’s tongue like a secret, like a promise, his name had
never sounded more perfect.
Chapter End Notes
     i started a second job so i haven't had as much time to focus on
     writing, but i promise i will update as soon as possible! i'll try to
     have the next chapter done by the end of the month. thanks again for
     reading!!
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     whoo! an update!
     just a heads up, parts of this chapter might be upsetting to read. if
     you're sensitive to any kind of sexual assault/non-con/rape/etc, i'd
     recommend maybe skipping this one. it gets worse before it gets
     better.
     alternatively, you could stop reading at "None of your business..."
     and pick up at "Just as Murphy had finally..."
     on the plus side, this chapter also has some (probably grammatically
     incorrect) Trigedasleng! translations will be in the end notes <3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Murphy sauntered over to the nearly-deserted bonfire with a cup of moonshine, a
scowling guard, and a guarantee from Bellamy that as soon as he could, he would
ditch the meeting with the Mount Weather Rescue Squad in favor of snuggling up
to his boyfriend.
Boyfriend. They had made it official the night before, when Bellamy asked
Murphy if he would ‘go steady’ with him. Murphy had promptly laughed and called
him a nerd ("What, are you from the 1950’s or something?"), which Bellamy
happily accepted as an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ Murphy was still giddy about the
title, but he would take that particular confession to his grave.
He claimed an empty seat and began idly poking at the firewood with a charred
stick, enjoying the way the sparks launched into the air before fizzling out
against the dark canvas of the night sky. The guard, who was noticeably younger
than the others Murphy had dealt with so far, sat awkwardly on the opposite end
of the log from him, caught between trying to do his job and trying to avoid
hovering behind the delinquent all night. He balanced his rifle in his lap
without taking it off, thumb resting on the safety. Murphy spared a glance at
the man- well, boy, really. He appeared unnecessarily uncomfortable in Murphy’s
presence: too restless, too austere. Anxiousness and guns was a combination
that almost never ended well. Murphy rolled his eyes with a noisy sigh. He
couldn’t believe he was about to make small talk with this dude, but, “How long
have you been on the guard?” he asked, aiming for curious.
The boy looked at Murphy with wide eyes, then over his shoulder like there must
have been someone else for Murphy to address, then back at the other’s bored
stare. His brow furrowed in confusion as he pointed to his own chest. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. See anyone else around in a uniform?”
“Should I be talking to you?” he questioned warily. When Murphy only cocked an
eyebrow in response, the guard continued, “Aren’t you, like, dangerous or
something?”
Murphy bit back the desire to play into that idea with some degree of regret.
Goddamn right, he was dangerous. But, he supposed the boy was already
intimidated enough, no use in alarming him further. After all, he was the one
with a gun, and possibly an itchy trigger finger. Instead, Murphy snorted,
“Some people seem to think so. Don’t know how much damage I could really do
right now, though, with my leg all fucked up.” He patted his stitches for
effect. “Why, you scared of me?” He smirked when the guard instinctively
straightened his shoulders.
“No! I just…don’t want to be distracted is all.”
“Sure.”
They sat in silence for a couple minutes, Murphy stoking the fire, before the
boy spoke up again, quieter. “Is it true that you killed someone?”
He stilled momentarily, surprised by the straightforwardness of the question.
Murphy didn’t necessarily feel guilty about Connor and Myles, even now, but
with everything that had happened since their first week on the ground, it
almost seemed like a different lifetime. He shrugged, mumbling, “They tried to
kill me first.”
The boy’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Why?”
Murphy half-smiled, deciding to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you at least
tell me your name before I reveal my tragic backstory?”
The guard ducked his head sheepishly and wiped his palm on his trousers before
thrusting it in Murphy’s direction, leaning over a bit to accommodate the
distance between them. “Sorry. I’m Bevyn.”
Murphy shook his hand, wondering when that stupid formality would finally die
out, and replied, “Murphy.”
“I know.”
“Right, my reputation precedes me,” Murphy said dryly. “Great.”
Bevyn gave a faint smile, removing his rifle and placing it on the ground at
his feet. “If it makes you feel any better, you don’t seem too bad to me.”
“Thanks, I think,” Murphy chuckled incredulously, shaking his head as he turned
back to stare at the flames, Bevyn following suit with a lopsided grin. If
anyone had told Murphy he would make a friend while discussing his criminal
past, he’d have laughed in their face. But, here he was.
The tranquility of the moment was cut short when Murphy heard Raven’s accusing
tone. “Been dating Bellamy less than twenty-four hours and you’re already
flirting with someone else?” He clenched his jaw as she stepped into his line
of view, arms crossed. Murphy saw Bevyn flush at Raven’s comment, even in the
amber glow of the bonfire. Striding up angrily like any delinquent looking for
a fight, the mechanic stared down at him accusatorially. “You don’t deserve
him.”
Murphy was more than aware of that fact, but he stopped himself from agreeing;
he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. He pushed himself to his feet so
that he was eye-level with Raven, feeling anger pulsing hot through his veins.
“Listen, Reyes. You don’t get to talk shit about everyone else’s relationships
just because Spacewalker cheated on your sorry ass with Clarke.” Murphy noticed
his cheek was stinging before he even realized that Raven had slapped him. He
swallowed hard as he trained his cutting glare on her.
Bevyn scrambled to stand up, grabbing for his rifle on the way, so far out of
his element. He shouldered the gun and took a step closer to the pair with his
hands splayed out in a placating manner. Murphy noted that his voice was a
little more unsure than before. “Hey guys, let’s just take a second to calm
down. None of us wants any trouble, right?”
“Wrong,” snapped Raven as she held Murphy’s gaze. She was obviously waiting for
him to make his move, to retaliate. After a long, tense moment, he closed his
eyes and huffed, stomping off in the other direction towards the tree line
instead. Bevyn tried to stop him, gripping his forearm.
“Murphy, wait-”
He wrenched his arm away violently, practically seething, “Unless you wanna
hold my hand while I take a piss, I suggest you let me fuck off for a minute.”
Bevyn looked apologetically down at the ground where he was toeing his boot in
the dirt. Murphy felt a little bad about lashing out at him, but, in his
defense, that was probably the nicest reaction he could have had, given his
temper.
Murphy found himself in a small, secluded clearing just beyond the fence of
Camp Jaha. He scrubbed at his face with an irritated sigh, attempting to get
his rage back under control. It wasn’t his fault that Raven’s boyfriend was an
asshole. And, okay, maybe he shouldn’t have brought up such a sensitive
subject, but he’d already been on the receiving end of too many jealous glares
and muttered insults since word got out that he and Bellamy were an item; Raven
was just the first person to actually confront him about it, and he couldn’t
help taking out his frustration on her. He pushed his hair back from his face,
resolving to find Raven and apologize once they’d both had a chance to cool
off.
Murphy was just about to relieve himself when he was suddenly struck by the
uncomfortable sensation that he was being watched. He swiveled his head around
just in time to see a few figures emerging from the shadowy concealment of the
tree line. His stomach churned when he realized that they were Grounders, and
they were looking at him like he was their last meal.
The group approached Murphy, mumbling words in Trigedasleng that he assumed
were probably insults. He turned to head back to the bonfire, figuring he could
find somewhere else to take a piss, but stumbled forward when a hand shoved him
from behind. “Hei, skai-twicha! Ai mema yu in. Yu don ste honon kom ai stegeda.
Chit ste bilaik natrona gon yu kru?”
Murphy grit his teeth, temper flaring once again. As badly as he wanted to
throw the first punch, three to one weren’t the kind of odds he preferred. Not
to mention that Jackson would have a fit if he tore any of his stitches during
a fight. Instead, Murphy smirked and shook his head. “Sorry man, I don’t speak
Grounder.”
The guy on the left narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at Murphy. “Ai don sin
dison in kom gona Belomi. Emo don smuch choda op,” he laughed. Murphy felt his
face heat up. He may not know the language, but it wasn’t hard to tell that
they were talking about him and Bellamy. The other two traded perverse smiles.
Mr. Shove-y took another step forward. He was close enough for Murphy to smell
the bitter panther meat they’d had for dinner on his breath. “Ah, em laik op-
spuna?” The Grounder pushed Murphy’s shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling
backwards onto the dirt. He tried to scramble to his feet, but before he could,
he felt the unmistakable sensation of ribs cracking as the third Grounder
kicked him, and he collapsed back on the earth.
“Fuck off!” Murphy screamed. He knew he wasn’t well-liked, but he didn’t think
people would be trying to hurt him all the fucking time.
“Em no ste yuj thau em shila,” sneered the Grounder who had said Bellamy’s
name. How the hell was Murphy supposed to know what he did to piss these guys
off if he couldn’t even understand them? “Gon raun, skat!”
Murphy ducked his head beneath his arms as more blows landed across his body,
trying desperately to hold back tears. He pleaded in what little Trigedasleng
he had figured out from his time in captivity. “Hod op! B-beja!” A foot hit
Murphy’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. “Stop it, please!” he coughed,
gasping for air.
There was a sound like the zap of electricity, and then the beatings ended.
Murphy flinched away from the noise, hands still covering his face. He remained
on the ground for a few moments before tentatively raising his head to see what
caused the reprieve. Through the darkness, he could barely make out the bodies
of the three Grounders lying unconscious nearby. Confused, Murphy scanned the
area until he noticed the all-too-familiar spark of a shock baton approaching
him, but he was unable to tell who was wielding it. Murphy reared back, too
broken to stand properly, and started begging again, “No, please, I-I don’t
know anything, I swear. Beja, beja!”
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the figure soothed. “You’re safe now.”
Murphy tried to adjust to his surroundings as flashbacks from his torture
mingled with the scene in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and knotted
his fingers in his hair, tugging at the follicles, reminding himself for what
felt like the thousandth time that he was in Camp Jaha, he wasn’t being held
captive anymore. As his heartbeat slowed, Murphy lowered his shaking hands and
opened his eyes to see who had subdued the Grounders. Damian towered over
Murphy, extending a hand to help him up. Murphy accepted hesitantly and only
whimpered a little when he was abruptly yanked to his feet. He pressed
delicately against his ribs, trying to figure out exactly how many were broken,
wincing with every touch. He counted at least two. “Jackson’s gonna be pissed,”
he muttered.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, Johnny. Thanks to those friends of
yours and their peace treaty, the camp and these woods are crawling with
savages now. It’s a good thing I found you in time, you could have been
killed.” Damian put his hand on Murphy’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off
immediately. “What were you doing out here anyway?”
“None of your business,” Murphy snapped. He wasn’t about to take advice from a
psychopath.
He moved past Damian toward the path that led out of the clearing, making a
mental note to not wander off like a fucking idiot in the future, but Damian’s
grip on the back of his collar stopped him. He pulled the boy gruffly toward
his body and growled in his ear, “Sweetheart, you are my business,” then shoved
him up against the closest tree. Murphy squirmed as the bark scraped his
already bruised and battered chest. Damian leaned into Murphy’s back, allowing
his hands to wander underneath the boy’s shirt and skim the exposed flesh above
his waistband as he continued, “And now, you’re gonna thank me for saving your
life.” Murphy could feel Damian getting hard against his ass.
“Let me fucking go, you creep!” Murphy thrashed and reached a hand behind
himself in an attempt to claw at Damian, but the man caught his arm easily and
pinned him again.
“Tsk, tsk. You sure have gotten mouthy over the years,” Damian scolded as he
spun Murphy to face him, grabbing his other arm. Murphy felt something cold on
his wrists, and then heard the metallic clink of handcuffs as Damian secured
his hands together in front of him. His heart dropped. The guard smoothed his
thumb across Murphy’s lower lip and hummed, “I wonder what else that mouth
does.”
“It bites,” growled Murphy, jerking his head away. “If you don’t let me go,
I’ll tell Kane that you’re a rapist.”
“Oh? And how’s that?” Damian grinned wide, all sharp teeth and self-
assuredness. “I’ve already got you cuffed, all I would have to do is make
something up about you stealing my shock baton and fighting those Grounders. In
fact, I happen to recall that you’re now a ‘danger to the public,’ according to
Kane. Besides,” he added, leaning closer, “if you were going to turn me in, you
would have done it by now.”
Murphy felt dizzy. This really was it; Damian finally had him alone and Bellamy
wasn’t here to protect him and it was his own stupid fault for wandering off in
the first place and for refusing to go to Kane sooner. He had no one to blame
this time but himself. Damian pressed his lips to Murphy’s hungrily as he
ground his erection against the boy’s hip. Murphy gagged, swallowing back bile,
and tried to reason with the man one last time. “Damian, please, I’m begging
you. Please don’t do this.” His voice was just above a whisper and tears had
begun to blur his vision.
Damian chuckled, “Baby, you’ll know what real begging is by the time I’m done
with you.” The guard slipped his hand down the front of Murphy’s sweatpants and
his breath hitched as Damian palmed his dick. The man stroked slowly while
keeping Murphy pinned to the tree with his other arm and after several seconds,
much to his horror, Murphy felt his dick start to harden. Adrenaline from fear
and guilt and pleasure conflicted inside Murphy, making him nauseous and
sensitive all at once. He began to feel a sickening heat pooling low in his
abdomen as Damian quickened his movements, sucking at the skin on his neck.
“You like that, don’t you?” he mumbled.
Murphy ground his teeth together. “No, you fucking asshole.”
Damian cupped Murphy’s chin roughly. “Your body begs to differ,” he laughed,
then closed the distance between their mouths, biting at Murphy’s lower lip and
forcing his tongue down his throat.
Murphy whimpered against Damian's mouth as he tightened his grip and soon
Murphy was gasping while he climaxed, despite his efforts not to. “Fuck,” he
breathed as his body slumped, exhausted from struggling and from the orgasm.
“Please, stop,” Murphy pleaded weakly, dropping his head in defeat, feeling
betrayed by his own body. Tears of shame and self-loathing stained his cheeks.
“Looks like you made a mess.” Damian lifted his hand, which was covered in cum,
to Murphy’s face. “Clean it up.” Murphy shook his head violently, clamping his
mouth shut. He was already humiliated enough, he wasn’t going to do…that.
Damian sighed loudly, “It either goes in your mouth or on your face. Up to
you.” Murphy glared, extending his tongue begrudgingly to lick at Damian’s
hand, but before he could, the guard thrusted three fingers into Murphy’s
mouth. “Suck,” he demanded. Murphy obeyed, crying softly. After a moment,
Damian removed his fingers and dragged the back of his hand across Murphy’s
face, wiping off the rest. He laughed at Murphy’s expression, which was a
mixture of shock and disgust. Murphy felt himself being flipped around again
and Damian pressed his chest against the tree with one hand as he fumbled at
his belt with the other. Murphy writhed underneath his hold as a last,
desperate attempt to escape, but it didn’t matter. Damian had always been
bigger and stronger and meaner than Murphy; he had no advantage against the
predator.
Just as Murphy had finally given up the little bit of remaining hope he had, he
heard a familiar voice behind them. “What the hell?”
He whipped his head around and caught sight of Raven standing a few feet away,
straining to see what was happening in the dark. Murphy’s heart leapt into his
throat. “Raven! Oh my god, please-” Damian suppressed Murphy’s cries with his
palm and turned halfway towards Raven, smiling casually despite the situation.
“Hey there, Rae. How’s my favorite mechanic?”
She ignored his question and motioned to Murphy instead, furrowing her brow as
she stepped closer. “What are you doing to him?”
“Johnny? Oh, I caught him fighting with those Grounders over there.” Damian
gestured toward the bodies with his head. “I was trying to take him back to the
Ark so we could keep him in solitary for the night, but this one doesn’t go
easy, huh?” he chuckled. Murphy frantically shook his head, fresh tears
stinging at his eyes, and struggled to speak through Damian’s hand. He hoped
Raven could hear his muffled pleas. Damian shrugged a shoulder and said, “I’ve
got it under control now, though, you can head back.”
Raven crossed her arms and cocked her head. “I don’t think so,” she spat.
Murphy felt a wave a relief wash over him.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Damian urged, pressing Murphy further into the
tree. He let out a pained yelp, feeling his broken ribs shifting from the added
weight. “I suggest you leave.”
“He’s coming with me.” Raven reached for Murphy’s arm, but Damian swatted her
away effortlessly with his other hand. She grabbed for him again with more
force, only to be knocked to the ground with a grunt. Scowling, Raven withdrew
the dagger she kept hidden in her brace, then circled behind Damian and pressed
the blade to his throat. “Let him go,” she hissed.
Damian raised his hands in supplication and took a step back, allowing Murphy
to slip from his grasp. “Now Raven,” he chided, “we don’t want anyone to get
hurt.” Before she could react, Damian gripped his shock baton and touched it to
Raven’s leg, causing her to crumble to the dirt. He kicked her knife away and
straddled her frame. Murphy used the distraction to his advantage and took off
towards the Ark, sprinting as fast as his wounded body would allow.
Murphy stumbled into the metal structure and raced through the halls to the
Recon Room, where the Rescue Squad had been planning their attack on Mount
Weather, knowing that’s where Bellamy would be. He flung himself through the
door and nearly collided with Kane. Bellamy’s eyes widened almost comically.
“Murphy?”
Chapter End Notes
     Hei, skai-twicha! Ai mema yu in. Yu don ste honon kom ai stegeda.
     Chit ste bilaik natrona gon yu kru?
     Hey, skyrat! I remember you. You were a prisoner in my village.
     What’s it like being a traitor to your people?
     Ai don sin dison in kom gona Belomi. Emo don smuch choda op.
     I’ve seen this one with the warrior Bellamy. They kissed each other.
     Ah, em laik op-spuna?
     Ah, he’s a ‘little spoon?’ (the phrase in this sense is a derogatory
     term for 'gay' just fyi)
     Em no ste yuj thau em shila.
     He’s not so strong without his protector.
     Gon raun, skat!
     Fight back, boy!
     Hod op! B-beja!
     Stop! P-please!
      
     like i said, the Trigedasleng might not be completely accurate, but i
     did spend a lot of time researching the grammar structure and
     whatnot, so i feel like it's pretty close! i even asked David
     Peterson himself on tumblr (@dedalvs) what the word for "rat" would
     be :)
     side note: Bevyn is a celtic/irish name that means 'young soldier'
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     here's some comfort to balance out all the hurt <3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Everyone in the room stared slack-jawed at Murphy as he burst into their
meeting. He looked an absolute mess, covered in more grime and dirt than usual,
his matted hair plastered against his forehead. Bevyn arrived out-of-breath at
the door a moment later and doubled over, panting. He had begun searching for
Murphy at the same time Raven did and when he caught sight of the delinquent
running full-tilt out of the woods, Bevyn had assumed the worst. But now, as he
took in Murphy’s disheveled appearance, he realized how misplaced his concern
had been.
Murphy looked pleadingly at Bellamy as he tried desperately to put his words
together, stuttering, “Bellamy, i-it’s Damian! H-he’s got Raven!”
Kane placed a hand on his back and spoke calmly, “Slow down, son. What are you
talking about?” He paused, glancing between Murphy and Bevyn. “Why are you in
handcuffs?”
Bellamy was already slinging his gun over his shoulder as he explained, “Sir,
your Chief Guard Damian is incredibly dangerous.” He turned to his boyfriend
with a pained expression, brushing some of the sweat-slicked hair out of the
boy’s eyes. “Murph, where are they?”
Murphy hiccuped as he wiped away the lingering tears. “Th-they’re in the far
east c-corner past the bonfire. Hurry, Bell.”
Bellamy nodded, then started shouting orders to the others. “Somebody get him
cleaned up! Let’s move!” Several guards followed his lead, brandishing their
guns as they made their way out of the room.
At Bellamy’s undirected behest, Clarke went to Murphy’s side in an instant. She
reached to take his hands in her own, adopting her softest healer’s voice as
she asked, “Murphy? What happened?” He recoiled before she could graze his
skin. “Are you okay?” Murphy shuddered. He was so far from okay. His shaking
breaths were harsh as he dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids, sparks
igniting in the darkness.
Clarke raised an eyebrow at Bevyn in silent question, but he shrugged, just as
confused. Murphy began to scrub compulsively at his cheek, disregarding their
presence. Only when his skin began to turn red did Clarke intervene, putting a
hand on his face and forcing him to look at her. “Come on, let’s go see
Jackson,” she soothed, ushering him gently toward the medical wing.
When they entered the infirmary, Jackson noticed Murphy’s despondent state
immediately and delegated another nurse to tend to the patient he had been
with. He looked to Clarke and Bevyn first, almost accusingly. “Why is he in
handcuffs?”
She shrugged as they helped Murphy onto an exam table. “We found him that way.
Or rather, he found us. We were in the Recon Room when he staggered in looking
like this. He said something to Bellamy about Raven, but we haven’t been able
to get him to speak to us.”
Clarke fetched a damp towel while Jackson trained his attention on Murphy,
shining a flashlight in his eyes before attempting conversation. “John? It’s
Jackson. Can you hear me?” Clarke returned and offered the cloth to the nurse,
who pressed it gingerly to Murphy’s face, dabbing away the sweat and, well,
whatever else. Jackson couldn’t bring himself to think about that right now.
“John, I need you to talk to me. You have to tell me what hurts.”
Murphy finally spoke quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. “If anything
happens to her, it’ll be my fault.” Murphy thought he would cry again if there
was anything left in him.
“Are you talking about Raven? Why would anything happen to her, John?” prompted
Jackson.
“Damian,” Murphy mumbled distractedly. “He’s got her. Because of me.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched as he gestured toward the handcuffs. “Is that who did
this to you?”
Murphy nodded numbly, never making eye contact. Jackson turned around, covering
his eyes with his hand. If he had done something sooner, insisted on turning
Damian in or at least pushed a little more for Murphy to talk to Kane, perhaps
they could have avoided this situation. Bevyn interjected, “Wait. Damian? Are
you talking about Chief Guard Damian?”
The nurse sighed, “Yes. He’s…” Jackson paused, choosing his words carefully.
“He’s dangerous.” Murphy brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his
still-cuffed arms around them, curling in on himself despite his aching,
protesting ribs.
Bevyn looked puzzled. “But what does he want with Raven? I don’t understand why
he’d do anything to hurt her.”
“He’s a rapist,” Murphy deadpanned. His vacant stare sent chills down Jackson’s
spine.
He shifted his concern back to the boy. “John…” he started, but Murphy buried
his head in his tangle of limbs and began muttering frantically, repeating the
phrase over and over like a mantra.
“He’s a rapist, he’s a rapist, he’s a rapist.” And then, “It’s my fault, my
fault, my fault, my fault.” Fear took root and flourished in Murphy's chest,
constricting his lungs and clawing at his insides. He swallowed persistently in
an attempt to assuage his unslaked throat. Why wasn’t Bellamy back yet? It had
already been twenty minutes; finding Damian and Raven shouldn’t have taken
nearly that long. What if she was seriously injured? Or- god, what if Bellamy
was too late and she was already dead?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Murphy heard Abby’s distressed voice at
the entrance of the infirmary. “Raven, sit down. I need to check your vitals
and take a look at your leg.”
Raven shrugged out of Abby’s hold. “I told you, I’m fine. Where’s Murph-” When
her eyes landed on him, Murphy let out a strangled sob, relieved that she
appeared to be unharmed. She approached him so quickly that Murphy thought she
might hit him again. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he flinched anyway, and
Raven furrowed her brow at his reaction. “Murphy? Are you alright?” He stared
at her with wide eyes, too shocked to respond. Why wasn’t she pissed? Jackson
motioned for Clarke and Bevyn to follow him, leaving Raven and Murphy alone as
she dropped down next to the boy on the exam table. “Hey, why didn’t you say
something about Damian?”
“What?”
“You could have told Clarke or Finn or me. We wouldn’t have let that asshole
near you.” She placed a tentative hand on his knee, speaking softly, “I’m
sorry. We just…didn’t know.”
Murphy blinked back the tears that were threatening to form again. God, he
thought he was finally done crying for the night. “What are you talking about?
You guys don’t give a shit about me.”
Raven glanced down at her dangling feet, and if Murphy didn’t know any better
he would have thought she almost looked guilty. She muttered, “Well, you may be
a complete asshole sometimes, but…” She turned her gaze to him and offered a
small, apologetic smile. “You’re still one of the hundred. One of us.”
Murphy made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh. After everything
he’d put her through, directly and indirectly, Raven was still willing to
defend him. To forgive him. He didn’t even try to stop the tears that were now
flowing freely down his cheeks. “Raven, I’m s-so sorry.”
“I know.” She wrapped an arm around Murphy’s shaking shoulders, squeezing
lightly. If Bellamy could see them right now, Murphy bet his smile would light
up all of Camp Jaha.
“Wait.” Murphy pulled slightly away from Raven, frowning. “Where’s Bellamy?”
Her face dropped, and Murphy’s heart leapt into his throat. He stumbled
desperately to his feet, dread settling in his stomach. Raven flicked her eyes
to the nearby guards, who were straightening, gearing up to subdue the agitated
delinquent, if need be. She lowered her voice. “Murphy-”
“Where is he, Raven?!” Without waiting for a response, Murphy bolted through
the door, ducking to avoid the guards’ attempts at grabbing him, and smacked
directly into someone running the opposite direction. They both tumbled to the
floor with the momentum. Ignoring the sharp pains cascading throughout his
body, Murphy looked up to see an equally shocked Bellamy sprawled on the
ground. “Bell!” he cried, launching himself into his boyfriend’s lap as the
rest of the guards watched with confusion.
Bellamy didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Murphy’s frame. “Murph? What’s
wrong?” Try as he might, Bellamy couldn’t conceal the fear in his tone, already
anticipating another crisis.
“I th-thought you were dead!” Murphy sputtered through the sobs that wracked
his chest. “Raven was fine b-but you weren’t here a-a-and I just…” he hiccuped,
burying his face in Bellamy’s guard jacket. “I can’t lose you too.”
“Hey, I’m right here, it’s okay,” Bellamy soothed, stroking Murphy’s hair and
rubbing comforting circles on his back. He silently jerked his head at the
spectating guards with a scowl, willing them to disperse so he could console
his boyfriend in peace. He kissed the top of Murphy’s head. “I’m sorry it took
me so long. I wanted to come see you right away, but Major Byrne insisted on
having a talk with me first.”
Murphy sniffled. “About what?”
Bellamy worked his jaw in frustration and sighed, “About self-restraint. After
I saw the state you were in earlier, I couldn’t stop myself when we finally
apprehended Damian. I just…kept hitting him, over and over.” He dropped his
gaze to his bruised, bloodied knuckles.
“Is he…” Murphy trailed off, swallowing.
“Alive. Unconscious, and his face is pretty messed up, but he’s alive. The
bastard is being kept in holding until the council decides what to do with
him.”
Murphy nodded slowly as Bellamy helped him to his feet. “So, the council knows?
I mean, about what he did to me?” He winced at how uneasy his voice sounded.
Bellamy gave him a sympathetic look, caressing his cheek. Murphy leaned into
his touch with a quiet hum, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed as his
boyfriend spoke. “If they don’t already, they’ll have to. That way he can be
punished properly.” Murphy rubbed at his eyes, utterly exhausted. Bellamy felt
his heart swell with affection at the sight and he dipped down to cup Murphy’s
face, pressing their lips together. “Come on, let’s get these handcuffs off you
and go to bed.”
Chapter End Notes
     finally someone is going to get the handcuffs off Murphy
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     shout-out to nanowrimo for finally kicking my ass in gear so i could
     get this chapter uploaded!
     #protectmurphy2kForever
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Raven, Bevyn, Bellamy, and Murphy sat cross-legged on the two mattresses that
Bellamy had pushed together in their room, each holding a fan of playing cards
in front of their faces. They passed around a bottle of moonshine that Murphy
had stolen from the newly-developed bar, happy to distract themselves from the
outside world for a while.
“This game is fucking rigged!” Murphy pouted as he added four more cards into
his hand from the center pile, Bevyn laughing beside him. “Plus, what kind of a
stupid name is ‘Uno’? It’s bullshit.”
“It’s Spanish, you idiot. It means one.” Raven smirked at the crude gesture
Murphy sent her way and continued, “Stop bitching and play, it’s your turn.”
He opened his mouth to retaliate, but a knock on the door interrupted their
fun. “Come in,” Bellamy hollered.
Murphy knew it was only a matter of time before one of the Council members
would be by his room. If he’d been allowed to place bets with his water tokens,
he would have been happier to see Kane standing at the threshold than he
currently was. Murphy relaxed when he noticed Jackson by his side, though.
“What’s up, Chancellor?”
Kane offered a weary smile, and Murphy suddenly realized how fatigued he
looked. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering that Kane and Damian had been
close for a long time. Between handling this situation and Mount Weather, the
man probably hadn’t slept in days. “Raven, Bevyn, can you give us a minute? I
need to speak with these two,” he said.
Raven pocketed the remaining moonshine, despite Murphy’s annoyed glare, and
ruffled his hair before exiting the room. Bevyn stood and began gathering the
cards. “See you later, Murph. You can finish kicking our asses at Uno
tomorrow,” he joked, smiling at Murphy on his way out. Jackson closed the door
behind them.
Kane propped himself on the edge of the bed. “Mr. Murphy, I hope you’re doing
well.” Murphy sat, blinking slowly, and when it became apparent he wasn’t about
to say anything, the Chancellor continued, “After several hours of
deliberation, the council has come to a decision regarding Damian.”
“Okay,” Murphy said hesitantly.
“We believe that his punishment should be left to your discretion.”
Murphy felt his blood turn cold as Bellamy’s body went rigid next to him.
Jackson furrowed his brow in apprehension, clearly hearing this verdict for the
first time as well. “What?” Bellamy asked incredulously, mirroring Murphy’s
feelings.
“Since he was the wronged party, the council has concluded that Mr. Murphy has
the right to choose how Damian will be prosecuted,” Kane explained.
Before Murphy had a chance to describe just how much he did not want that
responsibility, Jackson intervened. “Sir, with all due respect, this is a huge
burden to place on John, especially with all that he has already endured.”
Kane pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes with a heavy sigh,
exasperated. “This is the only decision that the council could agree on that
doesn’t involve disclosing Damian’s crimes to the general public, as per Mr.
Murphy’s wishes,” he asserted.
Jackson turned to Kane, steeling his gaze. “John’s mental health needs to be
taken into consideration; frankly, what you’re asking of him is insensitive and
unreasonable, and I know that Abby would feel the same way.” Murphy stirred
restlessly on the bed, not enjoying the way he was being discussed like he
wasn’t even there.
Bellamy noticed his discomfort and, as Kane opened his mouth to dispute
further, interjected, “What about a public trial?”
“In order to hold a public trial, the people would have to know the crimes
Damian committed,” Kane reiterated hotly.
“Not necessarily. At least, not all of his crimes.”
Jackson cocked his head. “What do you mean, Bellamy?”
“He attacked Murphy, Raven, and three Grounders with a shock baton. Charge him
for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and treason for threatening the
alliance with Trikru,” Bellamy reasoned, shrugging. “Tell the people only what
they need to know, and put him on trial for that.”
Kane sighed again, “Bellamy, I understand that you have strong feelings about
this situation, but lying to the public like that is simply unethical.”
Bellamy slammed his fist down on the nightstand angrily, making everyone jump.
“So is rape, dammit!” Silence filled the room as he tried to regain control of
his breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued, “On the Ark, we would
have floated him. Honestly, that monster doesn’t even deserve the mercy of a
public trial, but I know the laws are different down here.”
“He has a point, Chancellor,” Jackson admitted. “I agree that this is probably
the best solution.”
Bellamy turned to face Murphy, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “What
do you think, Murph?”
“I don’t care,” Murphy sighed after a while. “As long as I don’t have to
choose.”
Kane smoothed a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Okay,” he said, standing.
“If that’s what you want, Mr. Murphy, then so be it.” With a resolved nod, the
Chancellor made his way out the door, Jackson following close behind. As the
door closed, Murphy slumped against Bellamy’s side, suddenly drained of energy.
Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. I’m just…” He shrugged, emitting a noncommittal huff. “Just so
done.” Bellamy’s chest ached with sympathy for everything that Murphy had gone
through in the past few weeks. He knew that his boyfriend was undoubtedly
resilient, but that strength could just as easily be a hindrance as well.
“At least this will all be over soon. After the ruling, you won’t have to worry
about Damian anymore.”
Murphy pulled back, a look of uncertainty making its way onto his features.
“How can you be so sure?”
Bellamy frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re leaving the decision to the public,” Murphy stated, like that explained
his doubt. When Bellamy didn’t respond, he clarified, “You do realize that most
of the people in this camp don’t actually like me, right? Especially with the
rest of the delinquents missing. I mean, Damian probably has more friends on
the ground than I do. What do you think they’re gonna do when they find out
that I’m the reason he’s on trial?”
A knot of anxiety began to tighten in Bellamy’s stomach. Oh, god, what did he
just do? “You don’t really think they’ll want to let him go, do you? That would
be ridiculous.”
“I guess I wouldn’t be surprised, is all.” Murphy gave a melancholic smile and
smoothed his thumb over the concerned crease between Bellamy’s eyebrows. “It’s
alright, Bell. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll banish him.”
“What if they don’t? What if the people decide he should be pardoned?”
Murphy buried his face in the crook of Bellamy’s neck, wanting to just drop the
subject and go back to having fun with his friends. “Then I guess I’ll just
have to get better at avoiding him,” he mumbled against his skin.
“No way,” Bellamy argued, pulling Murphy back to look him in the eyes. “If he’s
released without punishment, we’re leaving.” Murphy blinked up at him,
confused.
“What? We can’t leave, where would we go?”
“Remember that place Lincoln talked about? The peaceful village just off the
east shore? That’s where he was taking Octavia,” Bellamy described excitedly,
determination seeping into his voice. “We could go there. Think about it,
Murph: no more war, no more running from danger, no more fighting for our
lives.”
Murphy felt a flicker of hope igniting inside him, but he quickly smothered it,
reminding himself of all the reasons Bellamy had to stay in camp. The promising
guard position, the budding relationship with Kane, the inherent duty to
protect his people, the loyalty to his friends and the rest of the hundred. He
shook his head. “You can’t leave, Bell. Everyone needs you.”
“Well, I need you, John, because I-” Bellamy stopped himself to blink back
tears, swallowed, drew in a shaky breath, and choked out, “Because I love you.”
Murphy was, for probably the first time in his life, speechless. He’d imagined
Bellamy saying those words to him, of course he had, in thousands of different
ways and settings and circumstances, but never like this. Never so perfect. He
kind of wanted to puke.
Bellamy’s eyes widened in response to Murphy’s silence. He should have kept his
mouth shut, it was too soon to be saying stuff like that. God, what was he
thinking? He attempted to backtrack, stammering nervously, “I-I mean, you know,
you’re important to me a-and I just-” Murphy cut him off by crashing his lips
against Bellamy’s, who smiled into the kiss, relieved.
Murphy drew back long enough to whisper, “I love you too,” before resuming the
kiss passionately. He threaded his fingers into Bellamy’s curls, anchoring
himself to this moment, certain that he would float away otherwise. Just as
Bellamy pulled Murphy onto his lap, the door to their room swung open, slamming
into the metal wall and startling them from their reverie. Murphy barely
stopped himself from growling over his shoulder at Monroe, who was panting in
the doorway. “What do you want?” he hissed.
“Sorry,” she managed between breaths. “But they’re getting ready to put Damian
on trial.”
“Jesus, right now?” Bellamy exclaimed, stumbling to his feet. He slipped his
jacket on, tossing Murphy’s boots at him. “I thought they would at least wait
until tomorrow.”
Monroe shook her head wildly. “No, they just announced it. We have to hurry,
it’ll be starting any minute.” She took off down the hallway, Bellamy and
Murphy following suit.
When they made it outside, they heard the tail-end of the broadcast over the
fabricated PA system ringing through the camp and quickly caught sight of the
audience that was already forming around the area designated for shock-lashing
punishments. Kane stood before a handcuffed Damian with Bevyn and Sterling on
either side of him, firmly gripping the man’s arms. The three delinquents
sprinted to the back of the crowd where Raven, Clarke, and Finn were waving
them over frantically. “What’s happened so far?” Bellamy asked under his
breath.
“Nothing, really,” Finn explained. “Kane only declared that there would be a
public trial a couple minutes ago. Pretty sure they’re waiting until everyone
is out here.”
Murphy swallowed anxiously. It would be so easy for everyone to turn on him,
depending on the outcome. He already noticed a few of the other guard members
scowling at him throughout the throng of people. Bellamy laced his fingers with
Murphy’s, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Don’t worry, Murph. It’s gonna
be fine.” He offered a shaky smile to his boyfriend, then snapped his head to
the right when he felt someone grab his other hand.
“No matter what happens, we got you, okay?” Raven assured, giving his hand a
gentle squeeze. Murphy swallowed once more, overwhelmed with gratitude.
“Thank you.”
The air surrounding the gathered group was stifling and thick with tension.
Several minutes dragged by excruciatingly slowly as the rest of the Arkers
emerged from their work spaces or living quarters, anxious and uncertain. Even
some of the Grounders were loitering curiously around the outskirts of the
commotion.
When it appeared that everyone was in attendance, Kane addressed them with firm
authority. “As some of you may know, Damian Bishop has been accused and found
guilty of treason and five accounts of assault with a deadly weapon. Under the
laws set forth in the Exodus Charter of the Ark, and since all crimes are no
longer capital crimes, he’s been sentenced to a prosecution by public trial.”
Gasps and hushed murmurs echoed through the wind as people traded confused
looks.
A voice Murphy didn’t recognize sounded above the rest. “Who did he assault?”
“That information will not be disclosed at this time, as the victims wish to
remain anonymous,” Kane informed. Murphy bit down on his lip, desperately
trying to keep his composure, but he was starting to be able to pick out his
name in the quiet, discontented rumble around him. “All in favor of pardoning
Mr. Bishop of his crimes and releasing him back into the public, say aye.”
A handful of determined ‘ayes’ ascended into the desolate air, primarily from
obdurate guards. Bellamy shared a hopeful half-smile with Clarke at the lack of
response to that decree, and Murphy could feel Raven’s grasp on his hand
tighten.
“All those in favor of incarcerating Mr. Bishop until further notice, say aye.”
Murphy’s heart sank when a considerable number of voices affirmed. Imprisonment
was better than nothing, but who knows how long it would be until Damian was
discharged; perhaps only a few months. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that
if he tried hard enough, maybe he could just block the entire world out.
Suddenly, before Kane could continue listing fates, Raven dropped Murphy’s hand
and took a step forward, boldly yelling, “I say we float him!” Murphy gaped at
her, awestruck.
“I second that!” Monroe hollered, balling her fists. Bevyn and Sterling
exchanged knowing glances, attempting to remain stoic as more shouts of
agreement and demands for justice reverberated off the metal walls of the Ark.
Soon, over half of the assemblage was pushing forward, chanting for Damian to
be floated, as Bellamy pulled Murphy protectively against his body, guarding
him from the scene that hit a little too close to home.
Kane raised a hand to silence the mass of people and took a deep breath. “Very
well. All those in favor of floating Mr. Bishop, say aye.” An almost unified
‘aye’ resonated through the camp. Reluctantly, the Chancellor faced Damian and
stated, “Damian Bishop, as determined by the citizens of the Ark, for your
crimes, you are hereby sentenced to death.” A chilling silence fell over the
crowd as the gravity of Kane’s words began to sink in. Damian swallowed,
directing a final, haunting glare at Murphy before he was ushered back to his
cell. Murphy raised a trembling hand to his mouth. Was any of this real?
Bellamy wordlessly swept his boyfriend into a tight hug, and they were quickly
joined by more bodies as the other delinquents threw their arms around the pair
in comfort and camaraderie. Some time after most of the mob had dispersed,
while the misfit group still lingered, the sound of gravel crunching under
heavy footfall caught their attention.
A disheveled Kane approached them, shoulders weighed down by melancholy.
“Bellamy, I’m here to inform you that Damian’s execution is set for noon, the
day after tomorrow.”
Bellamy looked from the Chancellor to Murphy, then back. “I’m sorry, sir, I
don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”
Kane placed a hand on his shoulder. “The public trial was your idea,” he
explained solemnly. “Now you must follow through with the outcome.” Bellamy
felt dizzy when the meaning of what Kane said hit him with unexpected force: he
was going to have to kill Damian.
Chapter End Notes
     i know it seems like Kane really doesn't wanna do this but think
     about it: this "upstanding" guy who he's known and respected his
     whole entire life suddenly turns out to be an awful, awful person.
     not only does he partially blame himself for not, like, being a
     psychic and realizing it before anyone got hurt, but now he also has
     to organize a trial and execution on top of trying to save the kids
     in mount weather. poor Kane. all he wants is peace, he is so
     exhausted
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Summary
     at long last, the final chapter!!!
     thank you so much to everyone who has read this far; you all mean the
     world to me <3
     enjoy!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Murphy shifted his shoulders against cold metal, gazing out at the treetops
surrounding camp from his perch on top of one of the wings of the fallen space
station that jutted out into open air. Once he had discovered he could shimmy
out through an air duct, the secluded nook had become Murphy’s favorite spot to
hide away. He let his head fall back against the outer wall with a dull thud as
a sigh escaped his lips, morphing into a visible puff of air: a spectacle that
never failed to intrigue Murphy. He could spend hours watching his own breath
swirl and dance in the chilled autumn sky.
And he’d done exactly that. After Bellamy found out that he’d been appointed as
Damian’s executioner, he could hardly look anyone in the eye for the rest of
the day. Murphy snuck out of their bed, unable to sleep, and sequestered
himself in the cool night, taking company with the owls and hazy stars. But
dawn was rapidly approaching now, if the chirping birds or the faint light
illuminating the leaves were anything to go by. Pretty soon the guard rotation
would change over for the morning shift, and Bellamy would have to take his
place at the gate. Murphy knew he should go back inside before his boyfriend
woke up, as not to worry him, but his limbs felt numb and useless. Which, he
supposed, was pretty much like the rest of him.
“Murph?” Bellamy’s gruff morning voice startled Murphy from his peaceful,
albeit depressing, reverie. He whipped his head towards the opening of the air
duct, where Bellamy was in the process of attempting to squeeze his massive
shoulders through. Murphy would have laughed at the sight if he didn’t feel so
apathetic. Instead, he extended his hand to help pull Bellamy out onto the
metallic appendage next to him. Once he was settled, Bellamy wrapped an arm
around his boyfriend’s shivering frame and frowned. “Murphy, you’re freezing.”
“Hadn’t noticed,” Murphy responded with a shrug, suppressing another chill. It
wasn’t exactly true, but like, he also didn’t deserve to be warm. That didn’t
stop him from nuzzling further into his boyfriend’s embrace, though, and
stealing his heat like a bandit.
Bellamy placed a kiss on top of Murphy’s head. “Why are you out here?” he
asked, trying to disguise the concern in his voice as curiosity.
Murphy averted his gaze to the tree line, where the sun was just beginning to
peek out. “I figured you might not want to be around me right now. I thought it
would just be a reminder of what you have to do.”
He felt Bellamy’s arm subtly tighten across his shoulders. “None of this is
your fault, Murphy,” Bellamy assured, reading right through him. Murphy
swallowed around the lump that was quickly forming in his throat.
“That’s not what they think,” Murphy said, gesturing with his chin to the early
risers that were already milling about, preparing for the day’s work. The numb,
useless feeling returned, but this time it rooted in his chest. The
technicalities of the situation didn’t matter; even if he wasn’t to blame, and
even if the crimes weren’t just about him, Murphy knew that the rest of the
camp’s residents would never see him as anything but the person who condemned
Damian to death. That thought alone was enough to make Murphy feel like he was
being crushed, and he was just so tired of not being able to breathe. “Can we
still go to Luna’s village together?” Murphy found himself asking, before his
brain had even registered he was speaking. He scrambled to catch up with the
words. “Like, after the kids in Mount Weather are rescued. After everything is
finally over with. Could we leave?” The question sounded weak and pathetic to
his own ears, like an excuse to run away from his problems. But Bellamy turned
to him with something akin to wonder in his expression, and it made the knot of
anxiety that had twisted in Murphy’s stomach loosen ever so slightly.
“Do you want to?”
Murphy took a moment to assess his thoughts, and found that he really did. It
wasn’t just a chance to escape the hostile environment he’d wound up in once
again. The idea of creating a home with Bellamy, living for something other
than war and hunger and uncertainty and death, was exhilarating. “More than
anything,” he admitted, happily noting how relieved Bellamy looked.
“Murphy, I-” Bellamy’s response was cut short when a commotion at the front
gate tore their attention away from each other. Several guards were shouting
orders, demanding that the gate be opened. Sharing a quick, nervous glance, the
boys quickly ducked back inside so that they could join the calamity on the
ground. When they got to the camp’s entrance, Bellamy let out an audible gasp
as he realized what the excitement was about. Murphy followed his gaze, and he
felt all the air leave his lungs when he caught sight of a few recognizable
faces that he hadn’t seen since the battle at the Dropship.
Jasper was at the front of the group, half-supporting, half-carrying a thin,
pale Monty with his left arm. Fox and Harper followed close behind, the latter
appearing a little worse for the wear. Miller came through the gate next, and
was immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug from his father. After a moment
of taking in all of their tired but determined expressions, and feeling Bellamy
practically radiating with warmth and enthusiasm next to him, Murphy curiously
noted that he, too, was glad to see all of them alive. Things may have been
tense between them, but the last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by more
death. And he couldn’t help but laugh at that particular realization. Look how
far they’d come.
“Hope you’re ready for that beach vacation,” Bellamy mumbled low in Murphy’s
ear. His deep, husky voice sent shivers up and down Murphy’s spine and by the
time he’d recovered from the effect, Bellamy was already making his way over to
the group with a wide grin.
Later that night, despite how exhausted everyone was from the trek back to Camp
Jaha and the necessary medical examinations thereafter, an impromptu ‘welcome
home’ party was in full swing for the delinquents. Murphy wasn’t quite sure
where the abundance of moonshine came from, but he wasn’t complaining either.
The teens drank, laughed, danced to music from the tiny white box that Jasper
had borrowed from his new girlfriend, whose name Murphy couldn’t recall at the
moment, traded stories of what the other party had missed in their time apart,
and, finally, listened with quiet awe when Clarke recounted the tense
negotiation that she, Commander Lexa, and President Dante Wallace had the day
before.
Apparently it was agreed upon that, between the Sky People and the Grounders,
there would be more than enough volunteers to supply the Mountain Men with the
bone marrow needed in order for them to “return to the ground.” At first,
Murphy didn’t get why they so desperately wanted to be outside, where things
were bright and harsh and significantly lacking in chocolate cake, but then he
thought about how dull life had been on the Ark. He supposed he understood.
As the night grew older and the hype began to die down, Murphy watched intently
while Bellamy drifted around the bonfire, pulling each and every one of the
remaining hundred into unabashed hugs in a very un-Bellamy manner, which was
probably more than a little confusing for most, since Murphy and Bellamy had
agreed not to disclose their plans to depart Camp Jaha until the day of. Murphy
wasn’t sure if the sudden affection was because it had been so long since he’d
seen them, or if it was because he didn’t know whether or not he’d see them
again after they left for Luna’s village. Perhaps both. When Bellamy reached
Harper and Monroe and Miller, Monty and Jasper, Finn and Raven, and then
finally Clarke, Murphy downed his third cup of moonshine in a single burning
swallow and quietly removed himself from the circle. It didn’t take long for
the alcohol to hit him, and he had to prop himself against a tree in the
shadows once his head started spinning.
He wasn’t quite drunk - not yet, anyway - but he could certainly feel the
telltale signs of inebriation creeping into his body. Unfortunately, he noted,
his pleasant buzz was rapidly morphing into a shaky, anxious sort of liquor-
fueled self-loathing. Who the fuck was he to force Bellamy to leave his friends
behind and waste his time with someone like him? Murphy knew he didn’t deserve
a lot of things, but, by far, the thing he deserved least in the world was
Bellamy. The man who never stopped risking his life for others, tethered to the
boy who destroyed everything he touched? That just wasn’t fair.
Murphy slid down to the ground, collapsing in a defeated heap of limbs, wracked
with guilt. His sloshing gut filled with dread as he finally came to the
depressing conclusion that he was going to have to let Bellamy go. If he was
being truly honest, it’s what he should have done weeks ago, before things got
too serious. Before he admitted he was in love.
As if on cue, Murphy opened his eyes to find himself at eye-level with his
boyfriend’s dirty combat boots. He glanced up, seeing Bellamy’s fond look of
amusement, and promptly buried his head beneath his arm with a grunt. “Have a
little too much to drink there, Casanova?” he teased, but when Murphy met his
gaze again with glistening eyes, all thoughts of cheer and banter were
overshadowed immediately by his concern. He kneeled down beside Murphy’s frame
and placed a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, hey, hey. Murph, what’s wrong?”
Murphy wasn’t sure when, between standing and sitting, the moonshine had
completely taken over, but as he pushed himself into an upright position, his
whole world tilted dizzyingly on its axis. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran
his fingers through his matted locks with an irritated huff, trying to make
himself come across as bitter or indignant. Anything but heartbroken.
“Y’know, you’re great and, like, thanks for sticking around this long,” he
managed between hiccups and an uncooperative tongue, “but I’m, um…I’m, like,
setting you free. Or whatever. ‘Kay?” When Bellamy only stared dumbly back at
him, Murphy tried to shoo him away with one arm, but instead it kind of flopped
in his lap noncommittally. “Go on. Spread your wings an’ fly away orrrr…some
shit,” he slurred.
“You say that like I know what you’re talking about and I have no idea what
you’re talking about,” Bellamy said dryly as he helped Murphy back onto his
feet, but some of the amusement had returned to his eyes. Murphy opened his
mouth to explain as best as his alcohol-riddled brain could manage, but his
vision began shifting and blurring from the sudden verticalness and he noticed
with some degree of regret that his mouth and throat were abnormally slick. He
must have looked as shitty as he felt, because Bellamy grimaced, placed his
cool hand on the back of Murphy’s clammy neck, and asked, “Are you gonna be
sick?”
Murphy barely had time to nod before he doubled over, bracing himself against
the tree, and managed, thankfully, to vomit into the dead leaves rather than on
their shoes. Bellamy held his hair back out of his face while he retched and
heaved until he was sure there was nothing left inside him, and he quickly
remembered how Bellamy was far too good for him, and how that was the exact
reason he’d gotten drunk in the first place. He wiped the back of his hand
across his mouth and tried to will away the tears that were threatening to
form. “I’m sorry,” he croaked pitifully, dropping back down to the dirty ground
where he belonged.
“Come on. Up, up,” Bellamy coaxed, and before Murphy could protest, he was
easily lifted into his boyfriend’s arms, bridal style, and they were heading
back toward the Ark. “Let’s get you to bed.” Murphy groaned despairingly, and
the last thought that crossed his mind before slipping into unconsciousness was
that he could add ‘a fun night of celebration for Bellamy’ to the list of
things he’d successfully ruined.
The next morning, Murphy woke slowly, with a dull throb pulsing in his head. He
had barely cracked one eye open before Bellamy started peppering his face with
light kisses. “Mornin', sunshine,” he drawled, earning a tired glare from his
boyfriend.
“How the fuck long were you watching me sleep, you weirdo?” Murphy grunted,
feeling his cheeks flush.
“Few minutes, probably,” Bellamy shrugged. He hesitated for a moment, then
added, “I wanted to talk about last night.”
With those words, Murphy’s mind flashed back to the bonfire, and to his stupid,
drunk ass trying to have a serious conversation with Bellamy and then puking up
his guts. He groaned at the memory, and at his shitty self-control, and braced
himself for what he knew was coming: Bellamy had finally come to his senses and
was going to explain that this had all been a crazy mistake and that, well,
maybe they could still be friends. On the bright side, at least Murphy wouldn’t
have to be the one to end it.
“Just try and make it quick and painless,” he sighed, wanting to get the
process over with as soon as possible so he could curl up and die in a hole in
peace.
“What even are you talking about?” Bellamy asked, exasperated.
Murphy frowned. “I mean if you’re gonna dump me, just do it fast.”
“What?” Bellamy broke into a grin, despite himself. “Murph, I’m not dumping
you. Where on earth did you get that idea?”
Oh.
“I just…I thought that maybe you changed your mind and also I ruined your
evening and almost threw up on you,” Murphy muttered.
“You just had too much to drink. It was a party, Murph, sometimes that happens.
No, I just wanted to ask what exactly were you babbling about last night?
Something about ‘setting me free,’ if I remember correctly.” Murphy felt heat
rising to his cheeks again, recalling his ridiculous behavior with more clarity
than he would have hoped for.
He thought about avoiding the subject for now and just playing it off as
drunken nonsense, but ultimately he decided that prolonging the inevitable
wouldn’t do him any good. So, after drawing in a shaky breath to steady his
nerves, he blurted, “You don’t have to go to Luna’s village with me.” As soon
as the words left his mouth, Murphy dropped his gaze to where his hands were
fumbling with the blanket, not wanting to witness Bellamy’s reaction.
A thick, tense silence filled the air while Bellamy tried to process what
Murphy had said. “So, what, you don’t want to leave anymore?” Murphy swallowed,
refusing to look at his boyfriend. This was so much harder than he thought it
would be.
“No, I mean…you know that old saying that goes like, ‘if you love something,
let it go’? That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Bellamy gently lifted Murphy’s chin so that he could meet his gaze, and
softened his voice. “What’s this all about, Murph?”
If Bellamy had been indifferent or angry or even upset, it would have been
simpler. Those were emotions Murphy understood and knew how to handle. But the
warm, tender compassion Bellamy gave him was too much; without warning, hot
tears began to roll down his cheeks.
“You’re so selfless and wonderful and good, Bell,” he explained. “And I don’t
deserve any of that. I don’t deserve you.”
Without hesitation, Bellamy pulled Murphy’s face to his own, pressing their
lips together for a long time until the tears began to subside. When Murphy had
finally stopped sniffling, Bellamy broke the kiss and touched their foreheads
together. “You know,” he started, “there’s another part to that saying.”
“W-what?”
Bellamy smiled softly. “If you love something, let it go; if it comes back to
you, it’s yours forever.” He paused briefly to let the meaning of his words
sink in and then whispered, “My world is so much better with you in it, John.”
Murphy watched Bellamy for a moment with wide eyes, and with a wavering voice
he finally said, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Bellamy chuckled before wrapping Murphy in his arms. After a
few minutes, he asked quietly, “Still wanna grow old together by the ocean?”
Murphy let out something between a sob and a laugh, burying his head against
Bellamy’s chest. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I really do.”
Bellamy and Murphy spent several luxurious hours curled up in bed, delaying
what had to be done for as long as possible, but once they stepped outside the
Ark, reality was waiting for them.
They made their way, slowly but deliberately, across camp, trying their best to
ignore the pitiful glances and angry glares. Damian may have been a criminal,
but that would never change the fact that the Arkers still saw Murphy as the
one to blame for his death. Bellamy desperately wanted to point out just how
hypocritical that was, seeing as the trial had been anything but one-sided, but
he knew it wouldn’t do any good now. None of it mattered because they were so
close to a real sanctuary. When Murphy closed his eyes, he could almost picture
it. He had never seen the ocean, but Murphy fondly remembered the poems that
Mbege used to read to him about pastel pink and burnt orange sunsets bleeding
across the horizon and soft, bubbling waves that never stopped lapping at the
sandy shore until the end of time. Murphy could practically taste the salt of
the sea spray on his tongue already.
“Damian Bishop,” Bellamy declared, as the man kneeled before him with his hands
bound and his jaw set firmly. “You have been sentenced to death in accordance
with the Exodus Charter.” He took a deep breath, positioned his gun, and
continued, “Any last words?”
He had told Murphy that it wasn’t necessary for him to attend the execution,
but Bellamy had stuck by his side through everything, so he decided the least
he could do was be there for moral support. But, when Damian swept his gaze
over Murphy one last time, part of him regretted the choice.
“May we meet again, Johnny.”
Bellamy thought he might feel remorseful or conflicted or maybe just a little
hesitant when it came time for him to execute one of his own people. Murphy
thought he would feel exultant or vindicated or at least relieved once his
rapist was finally dead. But, after the deafening gunshot rang out through the
camp, startling crows out of the surrounding trees, and Damian’s lifeless body
slumped to the ground, they simply observed with parted lips and vacant stares.
Murphy and Bellamy fell asleep in each other’s arms that night and didn’t feel
a goddamn thing.
Chapter End Notes
     it's called an ipod, Murph
     so, here we are. everyone's a little broken and a little jaded, but
     they're alive despite it all. once again, infinite thanks to each and
     every one of you! your comments and kudos are certainly what kept me
     going.
     if you liked this, feel free to check out my other works <3
     find me on tumblr @modestmouse-colouredpeople
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