Not Broken Just Bent

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Indra was gone, and it wasn't too long after until Bellamy was greeted by another couple of people. And it sure as hell wasn't any Arker. Grounders. Of course. What the hell did they think, leaving him chained up in here when there was a kill order. Bellamy didn't even know if his sister was alive, if Marcus, Lincoln, Sinclair . . . if any of them were alive. No. They had cast him out. Left him here. Perhaps he deserved it. But, the others also deserved the best chance they had to be saved. The uncertainty was driving him insane. No way of knowing if any of them were still breathing. And the Grounders, well, they didn't make this any easier.

One of them recognized Bellamyn from Mount Weather, as being a prisoner that the Arker had released from the cage. His anger of the sky person's actions against the army was greater than any gratitude he had for his freedom. They exchanged words with each other, and Bellamy's limited Trigedasleng allowed him to get the gist of it. They were taking him to the Commander. The new Commander, whoever the hell she was. He doubted it was a good thing that they were keeping him alive. Whether they wanted to torture him for information, or make an example out of him . . . one thing was certain: death would follow. It just depended on how much it was dragged out; how painful it would be. Once they broke open the chains, the hilt of their sword slammed against Bellamy's jaw, sending him to the Ground. It didn't stop there.

He could feel every hit, every kick, every punch. Refusing to beg them to stop. Grounders. His experiences with them were more plentiful in the negatives rather than positives. He was eventually pulled up to his feet, his hands bound with the rope they had as they pulled him along. Well, wasn't this damn familiar. Being dragged along by a Grounder -- just like he was Tristan. Big surprise. The journey to Polis was . . . hell. Bellamy hardly said a word, not bothering to ask any questions. He was more plagued with the fear of the others. His sister. She may hate him right now, but that didn't mean he suddenly stopped caring about her. She could be dead and . . . Bellamy would not survive that loss. Once they reached the gate, Bellamy was blindfolded, shoved inside and he could feel himself descending.

The air grew cooler and he soon felt metal clasped around his wrists. Once the bag was pulled off of his head, he blinked a few times, quickly adjusting to the darkly lit room -- only by the small window far up above the wall. A dungeon. Bellamy stared at the two men as they departed, locking the door behind him. So he went from chained in a cave to chained in a dungeon. Instinctively he attempted to pull at the chains, but it was to no avail. They were linked to the wall, the thick metal cuffs pressed against his unhealed wounds from earlier. The throbbing of his beating was numbed by the trepidation. Not for himself. But . . . for Octavia. For Kane. For Lincoln. For Sterling. For Harper. For Miller. For . . . his people.

[John Murphy]

He should have made a break for it alone. Waiting for Clarke had been a mistake and he should have known it. He did know it, yet still he'd lingered as she flitted from one part of Polis to another. They had even had assistance for their imminent escape, urged by Titus and Roan to leave. Instead they'd stayed in grounder central. He had stayed and for what? He should have fled alone and now the princess had left him.  

Left him in the hands of Titus. The same man who had tortured Murphy mere days ago, had tried to murder Clarke, incompetently, instead slaying his own commander. The same now inconveniently dead Titus. By his own hand, no less. Where did that leave Murphy? After being used as a distraction he was now passed off to someone evidently worse. With all that had happened following the previous commander's death, this new leader's dramatic entrance and claim to succession had made it clear she wasn't one to be crossed. That didn't stop Murphy from intending to if he only had the chance. For now he was stuck here. Still. Inexplicably kept alive for now and being ordered around by a new tyrant grounder as she planned to solidify her ascension and the sky people's demise. 

For now. That was all he had to go on regarding his own survival. It wasn't good enough. He would be out of here the next chance he had, a certainty if only given the opportunity to breakout. If not, he would have to make his own. His resolve was tainted with the distinct possibility that he would die here, either during an attempt to escape or whenever the new commander felt inclined. But not yet. Besides, he had been given more orders. A sky person had been captured and Ontari had decided Murphy should be the one to bring her information on Skaikru's current dealings, or perhaps just to test him in some way. As if he had any loyalty to either side. He spared a thought to who it might be. Clarke? Unlikely. Ontari would have taken her head already and paraded it, no doubt. Octavia? For all he knew she was a grounder herself now, she had been well on the way after all. It would be a guardsmen perhaps. Strayed too far. 

He did as he was told, no use in rejecting and no other choice with two grounder guards marching him to a dungeon. They'd have no doubt dragged him should he have stalled. Murphy had half expected to be taken to the same room in which he'd been held, but when he was led elsewhere, he figured Titus had kept him in secret. Nobody else had come by, no grounder guardsmen or other prisoners. It made sense, he hadn't wanted anyone else to know. A shove sent Murphy into the dungeon, catching himself with a hand to the wall at his side to save a fall. He muted a response as the door slammed shut anyway. Now he turned to seek out the captive, peering to the farthest wall as he took a few tentative steps. Once he focused on the man he knew him instantly. Cut and bloody, tied up. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen him that way before. But it was the ex-leader's eyes, seeming to Murphy to be lit up with desperation and despair in the dim light, that he recognized him. "... Bellamy..."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

The nearing footsteps echoing in the hall forced Bellamy to his feet, as best as he could with the restraints. He felt his heart beat with fear, though he showed no outward indication of this. He took a few deep calming breaths, staring at the door intently until it opened. He heard no words, no voices . . . nothing. Just, a man who was shoved inside before the door slammed shut. They hadn't come to take him then? They weren't going to torture him for information? This made Bellamy all the more unsettled.

Just when he thought he could predict their ruthless and violent actions. Bellamy's eyes fixated on the dark shadowed figure, until it eventually came into view. The sight before the male, caused Bellamy's eyes to slightly widen from the sheer shock of who stood before him. How . . . when . . . why . . . no. There were too many questions and none that could be coherently formed. All he could do was just stare. "Murphy?" He returned the acknowledgment. Hell, Murphy look just as surprised to see him.

 "What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice not a demand but rather . . . one laced with concern. The older male took in the sight of Murphy's attire. It was hardly the garb of an Arker. Was he a prisoner here too then? The thought worried him, and instinctively, Bellamy took a step toward him, only to be abruptly halted by the shackles. This time, there no rage that made him want to charge at the former delinquent. There was a strong concern for one of his own. "Are you ok?" Another instinctive question. Because his people's safety and well being, were always his concern. Even one who Bellamy had such a tense past with.

[John Murphy]

The first question went unanswered while Murphy continued to simply stare at the other man. What was he doing here? What was Bellamy doing here?! If the grounders had caught Bellamy, what did that mean for the others? It was unlikely anybody would come for Murphy... but for Bellamy? Surely they wouldn't let him rot in here without an attempt to break him out. The thought prompted equal parts hope and dread. Hope there would be a rescue and Murphy would slip out in the midst of it. Dread he would be left behind anyway. Dread they would screw it up. He brushed away the notion of either, his attention snapping to the chains as they rattled when Bellamy stepped forward, the second question soon drawing his gaze back up again. 

"... Are you?" The only response he could think to offer to such a question directed his way, the repeated inquiry sounding just as odd thrown back to Bellamy. Stranger still was the sense Murphy cared at all, yet his gaze fell once again to the chains as if he were considering how to loose them. Without anything to use as a tool he had no idea, the same shackled predicament revisiting Murphy whenever the 'commander' felt like imposing it. At least he wasn't being kept down here, for the moment. Though maybe it would have ultimately proved to be the better scenario if he had been. 

Having halted his approach he moved again to close the last few steps, bringing him to stand in front of Bellamy. So many questions but Murphy found himself caring more than expected about the answer to the one he'd bounced back. Though he already knew it. Still, he let it hang between them waiting for Bellamy to speak again, and finding some remote and pitiful relief that he wasn't alone in Polis.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy didn't fail to notice Murphy's lack of an answer. Though his concern was temporarily stilled from expressing itself through a repeated verbal means . . . when Murphy reciprocated the question, asking if he was ok. Ironically, the last person who had asked Bellamy that question was Pike. He was unused to being asked if he was ok. And . . . he didn't know how to respond to it now. Was he ok. The mere question itself, meant more to Bellamy than he could ever express. The people he cared for most hadn't expressed that concerning inquiry. Murphy had. It immediately made Bellamy kick start into the protectiveness he felt toward any of his people.

Murphy was his people. Yet he was in Polis. Undoubtedly in danger. No Skaikru was safe within the capitol. He was relieved for Murphy to move closer, as Bellamy's own steps any more forward were impossible due to the restraints. "Same as you I guess." The words almost a joke, but not really. Murphy's own refusal to answer the question was telling in itself. The two males had not left on the worst of terms. Murphy had saved Bellamy's life.

A debt that could never be truly repayed by the older male. "What happened?" Two simple words, one inquiry that summed up majority of the questions Bellamy had flooding through his mind right now. How was Murphy here? Judging by the wounds on his face, it wasn't willingly. Had he been in Polis this entire time since departing what had been Camp Jaha at the time? Why wasn't he a prisoner as well? Bellamy wasn't sure if it was something to be relieved about . . . or more concerned by.

[John Murphy]

The same as him? It looked that way. They were both clearly sporting numerous injuries evidently inflicted by grounders, both stuck in the grounder capitol and each certainly surprised to see the other. Neither wanted to be there but here they were. Both captured. Both prisoners. Though Murphy wasn't currently chained to a wall he was by no means free. Same as you...

Again, Murphy's gaze shifted to the restraints, following the trail of them from Bellamy's wrists to where they were tethered and back again. They were sturdy, solid. No easy way to break free of them and he knew it. Instead he was playing for time if only a few moments, deciding how he would answer Bellamy's question. What happened? So much. The two hadn't seen each other for a good while, and the events that had led to this flooded his thoughts as if in mental offering to aid an explanation. But Murphy wasn't going to offer up the stories, certainly not right now at least. Instead, he summed up. 

"I got caught." It sounded so lacking but it was the reason for his current circumstance. He got caught. He was still caught. Even after freedom was in sight, offered even, and now looking to be distant once again. He wasn't going anywhere for a while, so he offered a little more. "Our grounder 'friends' grabbed me and brought me back here to Titus. Great guy, real people person." A faint sneer showed as he mentioned the now ex-Flamekeeper. "Clarke was here... did you know that? He tried to kill her but her girlfriend got in the way."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Murphy got caught. It wasn't a huge surprise to Bellamy, considering Grounders tended to spread like a virus, hunting down their people any and every chance they got. If Bellamy didn't know Murphy . . . he would say that the surprise lay in the fact that the younger male was still alive. But then, he knew Murphy. At least enough to know that he was a survivor; resourceful as hell. How else could someone survive alone in the woods with practically nothing after they had banished him. And then returned . . . and then was still alive after that. While Murphy's explanation didn't answer the details, it gave enough of one. Though Bellamy was grateful for the elaboration, as he silently listened. Titus.

Bellamy hadn't directly met the man, but the name was familiar enough. It was the other name mentioned that caused Bellamy to pause. Clarke. She . . . was here. Meaning she wasn't anymore. She had left. Titus had apparently tried to kill her but . . . her girlfriend? Who the hell was -- and then it all made sense. The Commander was dead. Clarke had chosen Lexa time and time again. Now . . . it all made sense as to why. Bellamy turned his head to the side, clenching his jaw to fight back the emotion. Clarke had left them again, because she was with Lexa. It by no way justified her decision in his mind. If anything, it fueled his resentment toward her. For all the times her people needed her . . . she had always chosen Lexa.

It also explained why she had not come with Octavia. She had preferred to remain here, with her. Silence followed before Bellamy forced his emotions back. Who knew that there was any bit of him capable of feeling anything at this point. He'd thought he'd reached his breaking point. That he couldn't be hurt by anymore truths, actions, or words. How wrong he was. "What do you mean, was?" He asked, deciding to focus on that. "How did she get out? Why are you still here?" Clarke hadn't been here as a prisoner last Bellamy saw her. He had told her that it wasn't safe in Polis . . . but she didn't listen. And alas, he had been right. Yet now apparently, Murphy was in more danger than her. Because, she managed to get out and he was still here. How the hell did that happen?

[John Murphy]

The steady realization in Bellamy's eyes didn't go unnoticed, though Murphy couldn't be certain just exactly what it was the other had figured out, nor how much he knew of Clarke and the former commander. Still, he watched Bellamy as the other man appeared to be processing the news and perhaps details linked to events beyond Murphy's knowledge. He did know that the Arkers had been busy in his absence, even if he had only fragments of stories. And since Bellamy and Clarke, last he knew, were both alive, they had no doubt both been in the midst of these events. 

Murphy was still studying Bellamy when he finally spoke up again, but the other's questions now had him averting his gaze, if only momentarily. Despite the temptation to launch into complaint about Clarke, her ill-advised meandering and how she had left him behind, to do so seemed like giving in somehow. Besides, what good would it do? Along with the distinct possibility Bellamy would jump to her defense anyway. 

His answer came somewhat nonchalantly regardless of his feelings on the matter. "I'm still here because she got out." A shrug to go along with the reply as if he were speaking on something he didn't care about, as if there wasn't blame in his remark no matter how carefree he had said it. Just as his expression gave a little away to the contrary he turned his head to glance toward the door, refocusing on Bellamy soon enough, adding to his comment now with a hint of bitterness. "Now I'm the guest of honor." 

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Murphy answered his question, yet it only raised more. With each passing remark, Bellamy grew increasingly confused. He was there because she had gotten out? Had risked himself to save her? Had he offered himself as bait so that she could leave? That . . . didn't sound right. Yet a lot of time had passed between them, and he wasn't sure how much Murphy had changed. Despite Bellamy's anger toward Clarke, he too had risked himself to save her. More than once. So really, anything was possible.

"What do you mean?" He questioned, knowing that the general inquiry could just prompt another non descriptive answer. "Murphy, start from the beginning. How did you end up here with Clarke, and how the hell did she get out and you didn't?" There. Explicit questions. Ones that Bellamy sincerely hoped Murphy answered. Despite the fact that it was the older male who was currently chained up, seemed that they were both prisoners. And both needed to help each other. But in order to do that, Bellamy needed to know the details of what happened so that he could get a better idea of the situation.