Ella's Oneshots

[Ella]

Fandom: The 100
Summary: John Murphy/Emori, Bellamy Blake/John Murphy if you squint; Murphy has a choice to make. Character study around Murphy's decision to leave Polis with Emori in 4x01; Ontari is her own warning
Words: 666

I Will Run until My Feet No Longer Run No More

Murphy felt perplexed at the new weight in his hands. He studied the older man’s back as he walked away from him – his friend? He didn’t know what Bellamy was anymore, but he had just given him a gun. He had trusted him so easily, ever after all he had done.
Not that Bellamy was blameless, he tried to remind himself, but really, his former venom wasn’t in it anymore. They didn’t have any clue where he’d been these past months, and yet… This was more than just owing him. He could still feel Kane’s eyes burning on him, and he found his place against the wall, leaning against it as he let out a shallow breath.
They were still fighting a war they couldn’t win. They were up against the Ice Nation. His people never did anything halfway.
He felt a wave of nausea hit him, and Murphy had to fight the urge to drop the gun and run. He couldn’t do this. Bellamy trusted him now, but he still didn’t trust himself. He knew he wasn’t to be trusted, and he didn’t belong. In the end he would always choose himself, he would always choose Emori. Emori was the only one he really trusted, the only one he cared about enough to show that there was [i]something [/i]inside of him, something that years of pain and bitterness had almost flushed out of his system, but that was still there, hiding under the surface, waiting for the right person and the right time. He cared about Bellamy, maybe. There was something in the pit of his stomach as he thought about what he inevitably would do. He would fail him, he would fail all of them. He knew he couldn’t bear their hate again.
There was shouting in the distance, words in a strange tongue he had heard before but had never been able to decipher. Words Ontari had whispered in his ear when he––
Don’t go there.
Don’t think about her hands on your broken skin. Don’t think about her threats. Don’t think about her eyes, burning through you at every touch. Don’t think about the chain around your neck.
Don’t think about the noose.
Murphy closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this. They would still reminded him of what happened, both the Ice Nation and his own people. His nails dug into his skin and he didn’t care that he was drawing blood, he felt so terribly weak for still feeling this way, for still being scared––
He knew he had nothing to fear, not anymore, but it was too much. John Murphy didn’t do responsibility and John Murphy didn’t do forgiveness.
“I’m sorry, Bellamy,” he said to thin air as he turned around and walked away from the battle lines, away from the ones he realised he had called his people, probably for the first time since they landed. For the first time, too, he found himself longing that they were really his people. That he could belong, that he could feel safe with them.
A smile played around his lips. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not about any of them, and certainly not about Bellamy. It wasn’t a survivor’s move. They’d drop him as soon as he’d outrun his use, as people had always done, as he had done before.
If you want to help…
John Murphy doesn’t help others, he only helps himself.
Keep telling yourself that and you might just believe it.
He remembered his hand in Ontari’s chest. He didn’t do that for himself.
Emori…
“What is it?”
“Do you remember what I said about being safe with my people?” He looked over his shoulder, where they were risking their lives for the so-called greater good, a good which he had yet to see. A good which had never been good to him, and which he had never helped achieve. A good which he was not sure he could ever discover. “Your plan was better.”