A Second Chance With The Chancellor

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy felt numb, still trying to process everything that happened. There had been casualties, but Bellamy had done whatever he could to minimize the deaths, knowing that the real enemy was ALIE and that these people were just servants doing her bidding. When all was said and done, he had thought they did well enough. The deaths would not be minimized but it could be so much worse. And then . . . Octavia had killed Pike. Just like that. The older male had been, well, a friend to Bellamy. Turning him in had been difficult; witnessing his death even more so. Knowing it was done at the hands of his sister. He knew in this moment, that he had lost her. Probably for good. But circumstance disallowed him from dwelling. Bellamy couldn't help but notice the way the Grounders were eying Murphy after the discovery of their now deceased Heda.

Everyone was recovering, but Bellamy doubted lingering here longer than necessary was a good idea. He had told them all that it was time to go, and with that, had wrapped Pike's body in a shroud and carried him down the tower. It had been a mission to get down, but not an impossible one. By the time everyone was there, Clarke, Abby and Kane managed to convince them to give them some horses. The rover would be reserved for those who were really injured or weakened. Bellamy was getting his horse ready, putting Pike's body on the back before he noticed the Grounders, inching closer . . . closer to where Murphy stood. Bellamy's gaze shifted between them and Murphy before he took a few steps towards the former delinquent. "You coming?" He asked, not assuming but there was a clear underlying tone in his voice that suggested he should. Bellamy had not failed to notice the woman that Murphy had quickly sought out when the kill switch was pulled . . . and it was all the more reason for him to avoid staying in a place where there was still ample distrust.

[John Murphy]

Relief. He felt relief. That it was over, or at least this part of this whole battle was over. It seemed Clarke had succeeded and those under A.L.I.E.'s control were back under their own, albeit disoriented. Emori was herself once more, and still clinging to Murphy as he assured her, holding her close. It was in this embrace he watched as Octavia ran a blade through Pike and headed out of there as if she were leaving alone. Her animosity towards Pike had been no secret since they'd all met up, clear it seemed to each of them. But the post-battle execution appeared to somewhat stun at least a few of those watching, however briefly. Regardless, it was done and they would soon be leaving. He and Emori, even if nobody else chose to go soon.

He'd had enough of this place and if the hostile attention he was getting from the de-chipped grounders was anything to go by, he was less than welcome anyway. Now away from the tower and outside, Murphy stood near the Arkers as they readied to leave and head back to their camp, while he discussed with Emori where they might go themselves. Would he even be welcome back in Arkadia? Or Emori. Possibly, after everything that had happened, yet it wasn't necessarily the right choice though perhaps a beneficial one for now. Their discussion was cut short once Bellamy approached, apparently pulling him towards a quick decision, which Murphy answered with a nod. He'd certainly be leaving Polis with them, just how far he'd go was still undecided. 

The glares from the surrounding grounders directed his way had not gone unnoticed, and now they were moving in closer still with an air of discontent. Time to leave. "Let's go." Definitely time to leave. Fragheda! The exclamation had Murphy's attention snapping to the crowd, though precisely where it had come from was unclear. 'Heda' he recognized but the rest was lost on him. Still, he needed no translation to know it was likely an accusation of some kind, and given the look on Emori's face, he was right.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy had a bad feeling about this. The way they were eying them . . . it was all too familiar. That rising tension in the air. Murphy confirmed that he was ready to go, but no sooner did one of the Grounders spout out the accusation. Bellamy's eyes locked onto him before looking at the crowd that was appearing to inch closer. Instinct kicked in. He stepped in front of Murphy, slightly pushing the younger male behind him, serving as some sort of barrier though obviously not an impossible one to overcome. It showed the clear division however, and Murphy was at least behind some sort of barrier, closer to their people ready to depart as oppose to the nearing crowd of the other men. While Bellamy had his gun at the ready, he didn't pull it out.

There was no need for hostility. Not yet. Besides, they still had a bargaining chip. While Bellamy's Trigedasleng wasn't perfect, he understood the gist of what they were saying. "Em din nou frag em op." He did not kill her. Bellamy paused for a moment, fully alert to his surroundings, making sure to be prepared should any of them try something. They had already lost too many of their people. They had lost Pike. He wasn't about lose Murphy. "The thing that was inside of you killed her." ALIE. It had been Jaha's vessel, according to Clarke, to struck the blow that rendered her brain dead. "Jus drein jus daun!" Son of a bitch. If Bellamy heard that phrase one more time . . . though it did cause a rumble of murmurs to erupt amidst the crowd. Bellamy slightly turned his head to speak to Murphy who was fortunately close enough to hear his voice despite its low volume.

"Get on a horse." Murphy and his partner needed to get ready to go. Bellamy turned his head back toward the crowd. This wasn't going to end well and Bellamy knew that their only chance now, was to play the card they had. A rather significant one. "We still have the flame." The crowd was moving slightly closer, or at least a few of the vocal Grounders, as if they were a predator nearing their prey. Though Bellamy's words gave them pause. "Bash op em en ai flosh kin em." Harm him, and I'll destroy it. Bellamy's words were spoken with a seriousness that the other seemed to detect. It was no sweat off his back destroying the flame. But to the Grounders . . . well, there was their lineage all in that damn thing.

[John Murphy]

Bellamy's step between him and the grounders took him by surprise, and had it not been for the urgency of the situation, he might have made a remark. But he kept quiet as Bellamy moved in front and pushed him further behind, with Murphy simultaneously nudging Emori behind himself. Even so, there were plenty more facing them and still nearing, the crowd or at least a fair portion of them still growing more angry as they continued to approach. 

When the words left Bellamy's mouth, Murphy found himself staring at the other a moment from where he stood, the language sounding odd from the other man's lips. Were all Arkers fluent in grounder speak now? Wherever Bellamy had picked it up, it would hopefully come in useful, the other seemingly speaking up in defense of some kind, evidenced by his following statement and one that Murphy could understand. An explanation. So they thought Murphy had murdered Ontari, it was no surprise. Remnants of her blood still stained his hand and shirt despite him wiping it off as best he could. And he was the one the grounders had seen at her side while she was alive, at her side once she was dead, and now leaving with the sky people and caught with her unmistakable blood.

Jus drein jus daun. Okay that one sounded familiar, though once again the exact translation escaped him, but it was again clearly a threat as Emori gripped his arm, stepping in closer with a quiet 'John'. His eyes were on Bellamy as the other glanced his way with an order, one which Murphy was more than ready to follow, backing up now until they reached a horse and urged Emori to climb up first while he remained standing reluctant to join her just yet, gaze shifting between Bellamy and the crowd. Whatever the other man had said after his mention of the flame had stopped them in their tracks, their expressions less sure than a moment ago, though still far from friendly. Murphy took it as an opportunity. "Bellamy, let's go. While we still can."

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy's gaze remained fixated on the ground, untrusting of the Grounders. Fearful of the second he looked away and they tried something. Grounders couldn't be trusted. It was always the way, nothing had changed. Not in Mount Weather. Not now when they have saved them. They would never be content; always thirsty for blood. Arker blood. Murphy's words cut through the tense silence with Bellamy's stare on the crowd. He slightly turned his head, noticing that the woman was on the horse, but Murphy was waiting. For him. The sentiment was not one ignored or dismissed by Bellamy . . . but nor was it one he would allow to continue for to long.

"Go. I'm right behind you," he assured them. Besides, Murphy now had someone else to look after, not just himself. When someone you loved or deeply cared about was involved . . . it changed things. Bellamy was privileged enough to know that for a limited time with Gena. He didn't want Murphy to suffer any loss similar to that. So he needed to be sure that the moment they inevitably turned their backs, they would not be met with arrows or daggers. "Go," Bellamy further ordered, walking backwards to where his own horse stood, reaching behind him for the reigns, eyes still on the Grounders that seemed to want their skewed version of justice. "Nou." Don't test him, were the unfinished words. Ones that the Grounders seemed to understand as they did not lunge forward, allowing Bellamy to swiftly mount his horse.

[John Murphy]

How long would this altercation go on? Though others were looking from a distance, it seemed Bellamy alone was staring down the grounder mob. They had stopped their approach at least, for now, but they showed no sign of backing down enough to be sure they wouldn't charge them at any moment. They needed to get out of there. All of them.

Another order came from Bellamy in response to his urging for the older man to leave with them, but Murphy hesitated a few moments more. Though there was a chance his presence or at least him remaining in the grounders' view was merely infuriating them, making the already tense situation far worse. Perhaps he should go, but that in itself might be the deciding factor for the crowd to act. The next order came and Murphy responded as he watched Bellamy back away from the grounders, climbing up onto the horse behind Emori. He had never sat on a horse prior to this never mind ridden one, so Emori took the reins, seeming to know what she was doing. Once Bellamy was up on his, Emori was already leading their horse away at a trot. A little too quickly as Murphy attempted to keep an eye behind. Ready to ask her to slow down if Bellamy didn't join them soon.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy released the breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding once he saw Murphy head off, and he followed. They managed to get out alive, the threat of the flame being enough to sway them. But Bellamy knew it wouldn't be over. Not yet. They would need to figure out how to properly explain things . . . once everyone recovered. Or was at least in a better state of mind. The actual recovery would take far longer. They managed to make it home without any hitches, and as soon as they did . . . Bellamy buried Pike. The next day they would have a memorial service for him, and the others they had lost due to being chipped. Hannah was among them. Those they had left in Arkadia were safe, another bonus. Things were finally settled, at least for now. But such moments were never taken for granted.

Bellamy helped the others settle into their quarters, giving Murphy and Emori a room as well. He was unsure if they planned on staying, but it was safe for at least now. At least until they figured the rest of it out. There was a rush election, a quick needed for a Chancellor and still wanting to stay true to the process . . . they had the people vote. It was the result that left Bellamy in a state of shock. One that brought him to where he was now. It had been announced earlier that Bellamy Blake had been elected the new Chancellor. He hadn't even realized that people would want him as a leader. That they still saw him as one.

He's the enemy.

Those words constantly rung into his mind, resonating with him, eating at him. Words said by a man whom he'd seen as a father for months. The man that he had expected to be Chancellor. But the responsibility fell onto Bellamy's shoulders, and he wasn't even sure he wanted it. So many people were dead because of him. What if he just further condemned everyone?

He'd managed to avoid most people as the news spread. He didn't want to talk to anyone about it, and he knew that with how small Arkadia was . . . everyone would know by tomororw morning, if they didn't already now.  At this later hour, there wasn't really anyone around. Most had retired for the night, others were keeping watch. Bellamy, made his way to the Hangar. Now abandoned. He paused in the threshold, his mind wandering back to all those times he had frequented this place . . . when there had been a certain someone he had always longed to see.

He made his way to the bar, quite familiar with it, as he used his access to get to the alochol. While he wasn't a heavy drinker . . . tonight, he wanted a drink. Pouring himself a glass, he moved to the stool and sat on it, able to picture Gena on the other side. He knew what she would tell him. That he would be a good leader; that the people needed him. That he would excel in this because it was who he was; that they had faith in him. She had faith in him. Bellamy sniffed, forcing back any sign of emotion of how much his heart ached for the first person he had ever loved in such a way. It only prompted him to quickly take back the drink he had poured himself, knowing he couldn't fully drink away his problems . . . but at least it was a temporary distraction. For now.

[John Murphy]

Despite his reluctance, Murphy had continued on the journey back to Arkadia with the others, with mixed feelings as he passed through the gate. On the one hand, this was perhaps necessary familiarity after the events of the last few months. On the other, maybe it was a familiarity he could no longer return to, and to stick around would be a bad decision. Regardless, he could hopefully always leave after a few days with Emori, if the need arose. 

They had stayed mostly out of the way since arriving, keeping to the room allocated to them for much of the time while the Arkers sought some kind of routine, settling back into the camp. While some of them still appeared to have difficulty accepting their recent slavery, others were throwing themselves into rebuilding normality, whatever that might mean. Grasping for a focus, and it was no doubt better than wallowing. Either way, Murphy still saw it as their camp, while he was merely passing through. He just didn't know for how long. 

There was an election. With the former chancellor dead by Octavia's hand, Murphy had expected Kane or perhaps even Jaha to step in, though he may have left the camp immediately had the latter even been considered. The process had instead turned to a vote with Bellamy Blake claiming victory. Murphy had been amused upon hearing the result; the 'king' once again taking the throne, albeit in a more official manner. Still, whatever his view of the other man he had considered if there was anybody else in Arkadia that he would have trusted in Bellamy's place, accepting that there was, in fact, nobody. 

He hadn't voted anyway, seeing no point, whether or not he was staying. In his experience, leadership was taken, not given or earned, but the fair election had seemingly proved him wrong. Though Murphy remained an outsider to the camp, even from within. Along with passing on the election, he had only attended the memorial for a short time and from far enough away to not truly be present. Though now he ventured to wander the Ark, life in the camp finally in some vague order after a few days, if not exactly settled.

His walk led him to the entrance of the Hangar, wandering in a little way before he halted. Nobody around at this hour, he figured, until his gaze fell on Bellamy at the end of the bar, sat alone as he knocked back his drink. A moment's pause and Murphy headed across at a stroll, slowing as he reached the other. "... Chancellor." There was a light mocking in the word, although it lacked any of the bitterness with which he'd previously used it to address Jaha. Another chancellor, another shared history.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy had been so lost in his own thoughts, that he hadn't heard the other enter. He hadn't heard the approaching footsteps. He was only pulled from his mess of a mind, when he heard the familiar voice. Bellamy didn't even need to look up from his drink to know who it was. The familiarity of it, despite the lengthy period of time that had passed in which they did not share each other's company. Bellamy clenched his jaw, the word . . . the title sounding so, unfamiliar.

He would never be used to being addressed in this voice. Unsure he ever wanted to. Power corrupted a person. This kind of title was not without it. From the past few Chancellors, most all of them were corrupt. Or their rule resulted in mutiny. Bellamy knew he couldn't make everyone happy, and feared what would occur as a result. What he didn't expect from the former delinquent's tone, was the lack of condescension. It wasn't overly mocking, though still held that typical Murphy tone.

For that, Bellamy had to be appreciative of the fact. He pulled another cup toward him, filling it up and pushing it to the side, more aligned to where Murphy stood -- or where he could approach if he so desired it. Taking another large swig of the beverage, Bellamy finally turned to look at Murphy. "How are you and Emori holding up?" He asked. He knew he couldn't say 'settling in', since he wasn't certain of Murphy's plans. All he could ask was how they were coping. With Emori having been chipped and Murphy having been tortured.

[John Murphy]

Murphy stayed put at first where he'd halted, watching Bellamy from a few steps away waiting for some indication that the other man wanted to be left alone. He was, after all, drinking late in the deserted Hangar. Drowning his sorrows or creating more. Or both... who knew? Whatever it was, there was a chance Murphy would linger if Bellamy tried to dismiss him, even if only for a short while.

When the silent gesture to join him came instead, Murphy accepted after a moment or two, glancing to the offered cup before he stepped up to the bar beside Bellamy, arms resting atop. How were they holding up? Emori had seemed somewhat uneasy in the Arker camp, or in the least, alert. It made sense, especially considering she had learned her brother had died at the camp's gates. Still, death was everywhere; if they all made an effort to avoid scenes of past crimes nobody could settle anywhere down here. Murphy offered a simple reply, if not one that truly answered the question, along with a faint shrug as he spoke. "Life goes on, right?"

He let his hand curl around the cup, drawing it closer to lazily inspect the contents. The scene felt odd though somehow calming after so much mayhem. The volatility of the ground and their own two paths, twisting and surging and now once again merging together, however briefly. There were no illusions that this outward peace would last, and none that personal peace was even an option. Even so, he offered a question to which he already suspected the answer, whether Bellamy would give it or not. "This you celebrating your win?"

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Murphy's laconic answer made it clear that he didn't want to talk about it. And Bellamy couldn't push him. He had learned that some time ago. People would say whatever they needed to in the moment. And the more he tried to be there for someone, the more it backfired. He dind't know how this mentality was going to fit into his newly appointed position as Chancellor. He didn't know who to ask for help. Who would be there to support him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly alone. And it terrified him. So focusing on others was all he had. And in the midst of a response lacking detail . . . Bellamy didn't know how to reply. The older male didn't turn his head when Murphy accepted the drink. Instead, just emptied the contents of his own into his mouth, swallowing it back.

"It's hardly a win," he stated bluntly, the weight of his newly appointed titled evident in his words. He found nothing appealing about this. Perhaps under different circumtances, he would have embraced it more willingly. Right now, it felt more like a curse than a win. "You planning on staying?" He asked him, wondering what his plans were and whether he intended to stay or leave.

[John Murphy]

Right, not quite a win. A responsibility, perhaps? Either way it appeared to be one Bellamy wasn't keen on, or maybe he was just recovering from the most recent events along with everyone else. Though Murphy suspected there was more to it. In his absence there had clearly been a lot going on he was still unaware of, regardless of what he'd learned since returning here. Circumstances exclusive to Bellamy's experience, just as Murphy had those of his own of which Bellamy was unaware. And perhaps it would always remain that way. A lot had changed. 

Bellamy's question still coaxed a brief flash of distrust as Murphy cast a sidelong glance, with a moment's thought the other would follow up by telling him he should get going as soon as possible. But the thought faded just as quickly. He knew it not to be the case, at least not right now. With no intent to put any confidence in the current welcome or tolerance of his presence at camp, he was still fairly sure Bellamy had no inclination to kick him out just yet. Particularly following what had happened since their paths had crossed once more. 

Not only during the battle against A.L.I.E, but the confrontation at Polis before they'd left had also been significant. At least to Murphy. The irony of the situation had not been lost on him. An angry crowd apparently accusing him of a murder he hadn't committed and once again, Bellamy Blake stood between him and them. Only this time it had been in his defense. And he'd been thankful, if only silently. Now he offered an answer of sorts, realizing he still wasn't sure where he would end up. "I don't know if Emori wants to stay here... " He drew his cup closer before picking it up to sip, setting it down as he looked to Bellamy as if to gauge his response. "... but I'm here for now." He lifted his cup again with a slight tilt of it as he spoke, implying he would stick around not only at the camp but the Hangar for a while longer. Another sip and he went on. "So what happens now?"

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy didn't know anything about Emori. Only that she was a Grounder, she had been chipped, and she was someone that Murphy cared deeply about. Bellamy was happy for him. Happy for them both. That neither had to suffer antoher loss; the loss of a loved one. So many had, Bellamy included, and he hoped that never was the case for Murphy and his partner.

"Well if she does, she's welcome to," Bellamy assured him. He would not reject her of course. His words not holding authority of a Chancellor, but a promise of one. That he would not outcast their own people. Not unless they posed a direct threat he supposed and while he'd once thought that of Murphy . . . they were well beyond that now. "Both of you are." He wanted the younger male to know that.

That there was an invitation here, for them both. That it was an open door should they choose to stay, and not one to be closed by anyone. Bellamy also took another sip of his drink, mulling over the posed question. What happens next. Such a damn good question too. Bellamy hadn't the faintest idea. He didn't know where to start. How could he fix everything else when he couldn't even fix himself?

"We move forward." He paused, his head racing with so many thoughts, trying to calm the storm in his mind. "Just like we always do." He would need to speak to the Grounders, unsure of who was their leader now. He didn't want another war. They couldn't stand to fight another war. And yet, this also begged the question . . . was the war actually over? "The people need time to recover. And I'm hoping I can give that to them." Find a way to buy them time, or hell . . . something more than that.

[John Murphy]

The welcome now officially extended by Bellamy was met with a subtle relief Murphy hadn't expected to feel. Perhaps it was just that it represented an extra 'safety' after so much danger, however fragile it might really be. Or maybe it was in fact surprise, or a mix of the two, but Murphy lifted his gaze once more to Bellamy searching for the same sincerity in the other's expression that he'd sensed in his tone. He found it. And against his still raging doubts he felt a touch more at ease. 

With his gaze lingering a few moments more on the other, Murphy let his attention fall again to his cup, offering a faint nod that the other man may or may not have noticed. Even in his silence, Murphy figured Bellamy would know his thoughts on the matter at least to some extent, considering he hadn't right away rejected the invitation to stay. If Emori did so and Murphy eventually decided to do the same, it wouldn't take away from the fact Bellamy had given it. 

As Bellamy went on with statements that sounded befitting of what a chancellor should be, and in all honestly, statements that held a familiar quality to those the older man had spoken in the past. The same that had once even inspired Murphy on some level, at some point. But there was more to Bellamy's words, and whether it was in his voice or his eyes or was actually somehow emanating from the other, Murphy couldn't put his finger on what it was, only that it was there. "Well, I'm guessing they chose you for a reason, they must think you're up to the job." Another longer sip from his cup and his next words came lower, quieter. "Do you?"

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Silence sometimes spoke volumes; louder than words ever could. Especially in Murphy's case. Where the formerly banished Arker often used his sarcastic and sass ridden comments to provoke a situation or diffuse it . . . right now, there was silence instead. And that, surely meant that he had registered Bellamy's words. That there was something felt in them, whether it was reassurance or relief. Surely not disinterest if Bellamy knew Murphy at all; even if his knowledge of the man might be quite limited. Something that Bellamy only had himself to blame. The younger male's question prompted another pause from the newly appointed Chancellor. He took a drink, trying to stall his response. They chose him for a reason . . . that much was true. But what that reason was, Bellamy hadn't the faintest idea. He debated just dismissing Murphy's inquiry. Saying that he would be fine.

That the whole situation would be fine. Shrugging it off with a simple, non halant yes. "No." But affirmation was not what had come out. Instead, came out the truth. A deeper revelation than Bellamy had intended to disclose to, well anyone. Had he been on better terms with Octavia, Clarke, or even Kane . . . Bellamy would have known who to go to for support. Either one of those three. Yet that wasn't an option. Though it wasn't defaulted onto Murphy either. There was just something about the male, and something that placed value in Bellamy and his tumultuous past . . . that led to this almost, insinctive willingness to open up. Ironic. Considering all they had been through. But perhaps, that was what strengthened what they were now. "I mean, would you?" He asked, only somewhat rhetorically.

He had wronged Murphy at the drop ship, choosing the voice of the crowd in a way that he shouldn't have. While Bellamy liked to think that he had grown from that, he had still committed so many wrong doings. He didn't think there was enough time to ever redeem himself for that. "After everything I've done . . . " He gave a slight shake of his head, another swig of the drink to stall; to regain his composure. "I don't know why the hell they voted for me." When he knew that some of those he was closest to, had given up on him. Hated him. "Convenient I guess." More than anything else, he was a convenient choice. As always; required when needed. Disregarded when not. He turned his head to look at the younger male. "So no. I may not be up for it, but, I'll do what I have to do." Just as he always did for his people. And that, would never change.