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I don't know.

[Bellamy might be doing a better job at hiding it, but there's an unsteadiness to his voice. Most people wouldn't pick up on it, but Murphy certainly will.]

Some kind of alternate reality.

[That's the consensus he's seen, anyway, but he's still reeling. It's hard to wrap his mind around it, and so he doesn't even bother. He pulls himself up onto the bed beside Murphy and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Murphy's shoulder. He doesn't have any comforting words to offer, or any explanations that will make it better. He just wants to take a second, ground himself in the fact that Murphy is here.]

[ The tension coiled in every muscle of Murphy's body finally begins to unwind as he sags against Bellamy. With that relief comes a fresh wave of tears, but at least he doesn't feel any more screams building in his chest. With Bellamy's arms around him, he's close to convinced the nightmare really is over. He's back home. They both are. Does the explanation matter? ]

It wasn't real.

[ Behind the immediate memory of his brutal death, a whole other life stretches out across more than a century. Something got into his head and told a lie about a world where he had everything except this.

Bellamy missed him, too. He can't take that for granted. This could have easily been an entirely different reunion. If this life mattered to him a little less. If the other one seemed a little truer. Murphy holds him carefully, afraid to see anything deeper. If there's any part of Bellamy that wishes he hadn't come back, he's not ready to confront it. ]

[Bellamy is quiet for a long moment, just holding him. If it's easier for Murphy to tell himself it wasn't real, he doesn't want to snatch that away from him. But...]

I've still got the tattoo.

[ That's just about the last thing he wanted to hear, but Murphy's glad Bellamy isn't trying to hide it. ]

It doesn't make sense. We can't be two people at the same time.

I don't know. We were gone here. Maybe time got screwed with.

[He's at a loss. Monty and Raven are the ones who would come up with a genius explanation, not him.]

[ Murphy slowly draws back. This isn't a good way to go, trying to rearrange space in their minds to make room for a life they don't want.

...They don't want it, right?

He exhales a short, mirthless laugh and scrubs at this eyes. ]

Do you think I did that stuff?

No.

[He says it softly, brushing his fingers through Murphy's hair, empathy bond be damned.]

I think whatever happened fucked with us, and we weren't ourselves.

[ Doubt radiates from Murphy, and he nearly jerks away to keep Bellamy from feeling it, too. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he eases up and lets himself lean into the touch. He wishes that could be enough to soothe him, let bygones be bygones. But he barely had a place here to begin with and it's hard to shake the feeling that he doesn't have it any longer. ]

You hated me.

[ Which isn't an accusation, but a solemn observation. What he doesn't say is that there's nothing out of character about that. In fact, if he really thinks about it, there's nothing about that life that would feel wrong for either of them. They both did exactly what they would do, given the chance. ]

[It's a relief when Murphy doesn't pull away. Bellamy needs the contact, too, and it eases something in him, even as he struggles with how to respond.]

I hated myself, too.

[Maybe that isn't so different from how things are normally, though.]

You know how much I care about you, Murphy.

Yeah.

[ And he does. Truly. In spite of everything. Abandoning all hope of avoiding their connection, Murphy rests his forehead against Bellamy's. ]

But the rest of them don't care about me.

[ If everyone's going to come back with the sense that it was real, then there's bound to be a few of them out for blood. ]

[Bellamy lets his hand slip down to cup Murphy's cheek instead. After the chaos of the Aerie and the misery of waking up alone, just this contact is enough to make him feel more settled, more grounded than he has in... who knows how long. Maybe that's what puts the insistent tone in his voice.]

I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You weren't the only one who hurt people.

[ Murphy's so afraid. And it's not the sharp terror of his first waking moments, but the kind of dread that seeps straight into his bones. If everyone else could just play along and pretend none of it happened, everything would be alright. But they won't. And because they won't, the promise of Murphy's life in this world is crumbling before his eyes. No more safety in anonymity. No hiding behind Clarke's carefully constructed reputation. Now they all know what kind of person he is. ]

I'm sure they've got room for more than one noose.

Then they'd need one for me, too.

[There's no way Bellamy would let them get to Murphy without taking him out first. But—]

I don't think anyone is going to be interesting in putting each other on trial.

Really? Because in my experience, nothing boosts morale more than a good old-fashioned execution.

[ Murphy's not particularly comforted by the idea of Bellamy swinging from the gallows along with him, but it's not going to be an issue. Clarke would never let Bellamy do something so stupid. ]

Things don't work here the way they did back home.

You're right. The Arena was so much flashier than anything we put on back home. Really added a spicy kick to the jus drein jus daun.

Murphy.

[It comes out soft and insistent, his thumb tracing Murphy's jawline.]

Listen to me. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. Right now, we don't even know how people will react to you.

[ Murphy shakes his head, pulling away from that touch. ]

Why would anyone forgive me?

[Bellamy exhales, disappointed, but lets him move away.]

Nothing was normal for any of us there. We all know how this place screws with our heads.

[It's happened time and time again. The Aerie was just the most all-encompassing example of it. But—]

Is this about you thinking you don't deserve it?

[ Murphy shuts his eyes and takes a breath, caught somewhere between the honest truth and what Bellamy wants to hear. When he looks at Bellamy again, a light has gone out in him. Who is he kidding? ]

You know, for a long time I thought people couldn't see me. That that was the reason they hated me, because they just didn't know the real me.

It's the other way around, isn't it? You knew what kind of person I was the first time you looked at me. Telling myself I was better than that... I'm the one who never wanted to see what was really there.

[He prefers the honesty, even if it twists his heart up. But this, at least, is something he can understand intimately. How many times has he been afraid that his choices aren't mistakes, but who he really is?]

We screwed up, there and back home. But we're trying, Murphy. We aren't the same people we were when we got to the ground. That has to count for something.

You're not the same person, maybe.

[ Murphy, on the other hand, is terminally consistent. Dependably undependable. A perpetual pariah. ]

No, I don't deserve forgiveness. I'm not asking for it. I'd have to pretend I'll be better or do better, and we both know I won't, so what's the point?

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