station72 | [closed] should've heard them knocked-out jailbirds sing

[ Bellamy hesitates for a long moment. He understands the out he's being given. But he still feels the urge to say something. They'd returned from the disastrous peace summit and Jaha, Murphy and a handful of others had been gone. There's a pulse of regret over that absence, too complicated for Bellamy to express.

He exhales a harsh laugh, most likely lost on Murphy. Exhaustion is creeping back in the wake of that mental struggle, though Bellamy's loathe to give in to it a second time. The connection strung between them settles him, and Bellamy focuses on that. ]

( Yeah, ) [ He manages finally, slouching as much as his restraints allow. ] ( I think my fever broke. )

[ That's progress. And it's easier to report than it would be to dwell on nightmares, or to ask what Murphy had experienced in Polis. Maybe Bellamy should have asked before. Finding Murphy with Pike and Indra had been a shock; realizing that Murphy might have been there for ages without them knowing is a worse one. ]

[There's more rolling off of Bellamy, but he doesn't say anything for any of it, and Murphy isn't going to break the unspoken pact he'd started. He focusses on what Bellamy does say.]

( Great. ) [It's not sarcastic. It's good news, that Bellamy is recovering.] ( Maybe they'll finally let you out of there. )

[That's how it had worked in the Skybox, if one of the kids got hurt or sick. Enough time in medical to recover, then back in with the rest of them. But Murphy realises that's an assumption. He doesn't know how things work here, and he takes a real look around at his cellmates, thinks maybe it's time to start talking to them. Maybe he should've been sooner, but Bellamy had taken up his attention.]

( Maybe, ) [ Bellamy agrees, because what more reason would they have to keep him if he wasn't burning up or vomiting. He can only hope that they put him in wherever Murphy is, but they can cross that road when the come to it.

The connection between them stays steady, as Bellamy dozes and Murphy talks. Fragments of conversation slip through the bond, but Bellamy isn't paying close attention. Murphy's not in trouble. The conversations are quiet and unremarkable. Bellamy's content to just stay at arm's length, suspended between the ghostly awareness of his brood and Murphy's magnetic draw on his attention.

But Murphy's right: it works like Skybox. Temperature back to normal, nausea abated, the nurse marks it all down and summons a guard to deposit Bellamy into his cell. He spends a long, wary moment just inside the gate, eyeing up the place, before a tug on the connection draws him in, and he crosses the room to Murphy without any further delay. ]

Alright?

[They're lucky Bellamy's put in the same cell. Murphy's starting to put a better picture of the jail together, various pieces put together from talking with his cellmates - those that are interested in talking. There's a couple of frequent visitors, another who's on their first time but knows enough people who've been through, had almost inevitably been waiting their turn. Murphy doesn't share much in return. A few cuts of the truth, embellished and stretched. They don't push for more.

His lack of apparent discomfort in the setting probably helps. It's not something Bellamy can boast, and Murphy sees it as soon as he enters. If he didn't know him, he'd be mentally marking it, the wariness in how Bellamy stops, looks the cell over, the stiffness in his shoulders as he walks. It was impossible not to see how physically capable he was, tall and well-built, but that didn't necessarily mean much if you didn't have the right attitude.

Murphy isn't the only one that notices it. He pulls on the connection between them before Bellamy can make it worse.]

Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much fun I've been having. [He says, dry, sitting up and forward on his cot.] You're just in time. Apparently we're due a meal soon.

[Murphy is hungry enough to be glad about it, though he wonders if Bellamy's stomach is settled enough. But that isn't what he reaches out to ask.]

( Can you reach anyone? )

[ Talking aloud and silently between minds still felt unnatural. Bellamy hadn't made up his mind whether or not that was a good thing. In this particular moment, it was inconvenient. He's under enough scrutiny that a slip up would be noticed. And he's still tired on top of all that, though he knows he can't indulge his exhaustion at the moment. ]

Lucky me, [ Bellamy responds without enthusiasm.] Maybe I'll even find my appetite by the time it gets here.

[ The nausea has passed, but Bellamy wants to lay down with his back against the wall and doze more than he wants food. But he tacks on a silent answer, reveling in the proximity as he latches on to Murphy. ]

( I talked with the Darkling. I can just make out Shiro, and Clint. But no one else. )

[ Bellamy doesn't describe it, but the impression of his attempt to catch Shiro and Clint's minds lurks behind his words. For the first time, the connection between them had felt insubstantial. It had been like trying to speak with his mouth gagged. The words hadn't quite been distinguishable. ]

[It's more than what Murphy can reach. His brood is silence, some dim impressions like lights, far off in the distance. The Darkling wouldn't be his first choice - hadn't been his first choice - but it was what they had.]

( This place is like a halfway point. We're still in the city, but we're only here until they move us to prison. )

[There was some stuff in between, things about charges and court dates, but Murphy didn't see the point in including that. They were guilty of what they'd been put in here for. Prison was where the guilty ended up, so that's where they were going.]

Take a seat. [There's an empty cot across the cell from Murphy's, but he doesn't point it out, just tips his head towards the space next to him. Then, voice dropping somewhat lower,] You still look like hell.

[Better than he had done, when they'd taken him away, but still not one-hundred-percent. He probably needed more sleep, but Murphy wasn't going to encourage that yet. After they'd eaten, maybe, when the novelty of Bellamy as a newly introduced addition had worn off.]

[ Bellamy had thought as much. There's no defense they can use to slip the charges, and Bellamy's wary of drawing too much attention to the pair of them with a trail. He sits down next to Murphy, slowly, in concession to the bone deep ache that lingers after illness. His thoughts skip to the dropship briefly, vomiting blood, Octavia's face tight with worry as she leaned over him. But Bellamy's revealed more than enough, and he wrenches his focus back to the moment, meeting Murphy's gaze. ]

I slept for a long time after it first happened, [ though admittedly, Bellamy's definition of a long time is skewed; comparing to how little he'd been sleeping regularly, anything approaching a normal amount of time is luxurious. ] That's not really an option right now.

[ Partly because he doesn't trust his own dreams not to drag them both distractingly sideways, and partly because he's just too wary of where they are. He looks away from Murphy, taking in their cellmates. Or sizing them up. Bit of both, really. ]

( The Darkling is coming to get us. )

[ Even Bellamy isn't sure whether or not this is a good thing, or what the odds of success could possibly be. ]

( Tell him to speed it up. )

[It comes across as the usual irritated complaint, but there's a genuine thread of fear coiling behind it. What happens if the Nest moves on, leaves them here? They're in a system now, no place to hide, and sooner or later someone's going to realise they aren't who they say they are. They aren't from here. And that the things in their heads aren't either.

Thankfully, or not, he's interrupted from those considerations by movement from the corner of the cell he'd been specifically hoping there wouldn't be any. But Bellamy's glance around had been the last straw on holding the tenuous space they'd had. Internally, Murphy groans.]

( In the meantime you're going to need to remember that asshole I met when we first hit the ground. )

[There's a flash of memory, Bellamy back at the dropship camp before everything had truly started going to hell. Confident, arrogant, violent, all the other negative personality traits necessary to bring 100 criminal kids into line. But Bellamy didn't need to lead this cell. He just needed to survive it, and Murphy pulls himself to his feet just in time to nearly collide with their incoming company, forcing the man to stop and take a step back, away from him and Bellamy.]

Sorry, Yan. [There's nothing apologetic in his tone, drawling, cruel amusement curling at the edges. He looks the man up and down, making special emphasis for how he can see over his head.] Guess I didn't see you there.

[ The fear's not misplaced. Bellamy recognizes it, because he's harboring the same worry. What happens if they're left behind? What happens if the Nest goes and the last frail threads of connection snap? They'll be alone. Trapped. And remembering Nirad's fear at being captured, Bellamy suspects that will come to nothing good.

Though there's not time to dwell on that possible outcome, because a more pressing trouble makes itself known. The man he'd been when the dropship had fallen had been ground to practically nothing, but Bellamy immediately recognizes the necessity of Murphy's advice. ]

( Murphy. )

[ It spins out unbidden, cautionary, as Bellamy rises to his feet. ]

You need something? [ Bellamy asks, derisive. They're in a difficult position; this can't escalate into an altercation, but they can't afford to back down. ]

[The cautionary call of his name is nearly familiar, for all that it's in their heads and not quite the tone Bellamy might have used before. It still prompts a thread of amusement in Murphy's head, all the response he gives as he keeps his attention on their cellmate.

Yan is not a small man. He's stocky, over-muscled, and walks like he's carrying a stack of rocks across his shoulders. But he's short, and Murphy's already seen that he prefers to block people in while they're sitting or laying down on their cots. Both of them standing has already put him on the back foot, a flicker of it in his face, but he recovers quickly enough.]

Just saying hello. Your friend didn't introduce himself.

[He's talking to Murphy, even as he's answering Bellamy's question, but Murphy can't help thinking that's probably for the best right now. Bellamy's not back to himself yet, and Murphy has no idea if he can get back to where he'll need to be to deal with guys like Yan.]

So you throw this little welcome parade for everyone. [Because he'd had the same, when he'd first got here. Yan hadn't seemed to like his reaction then, and he doesn't look like he appreciates it now.] You know, you're going to need to find better ways to pass the time, if you're in for as long as they're saying you are. Again.

[ None of this is unfamiliar. Bellamy recognizes the posturing for what it is. Yen isn't without support and he isn't easily dismissed. Bellamy's jaw tightens as he squares his shoulders, attempting to shake off the lingering clutch of exhaustion. ]

If you're so interested in getting to know me, you can introduce yourself.

[ It's just as antagonistic as Murphy, and likely as ill-advised. But Bellamy wants to cut this short as quickly as possible. Or failing that, divert attention away from Murphy. ]

And then head back to your cot.

[Yan seems as happy with Bellamy's attitude as he was with Murphy's, judging by the thunder that breaks through the false amicability he'd had plastered over his face. Murphy can't help a curl of smug pleasure at it, and there's something comfortably familiar in this: standing shoulder to shoulder with Bellamy, facing down a foe, derisive and arrogant, the potential of violence pulsing just under the surface.

Maybe Yan senses it. Or maybe he's even more of a coward than Murphy had taken him for.]

Smart mouths. You'll want to watch those. Just a little friendly advice.

[Then he's backing off, turning back to his cot. Murphy doesn't fully take his attention off him, but he does shift to sit down again.]

( He's not done. )

[And he won't be the only one. It's a temporary victory.]

[ Bellamy stays stupidly standing until Yan's back in the embrace of his people. All the bravado in the world doesn't change how exhausted Bellamy is, but it might be a deterrent. He still remembers Finn talking deterrents in the half-dark, and Raven's cutting assessment of the strategy being proposed. The appearance of strength, she'd call it. Bellamy suspects she'd repeat herself if she saw him posturing now.

He levers himself down beside Murphy with a low groan of complaint. It's always too much to expect any given situation to be easy. Mount Weather is still lurking treacherously in the back of his head. It's too close for comfort. He focuses on Murphy's face instead; trading resigned looks of irritation is at least familiar territory. ]

( I know. Whatever they're going to try, we'll have to make sure we're ready. )

[ That being said, Bellamy's not above playing dirty. And landing himself immediately back in the medical ward. ]

[Murphy could almost roll his eyes. He's been ready. Bellamy's the one who's had to put a face on, push for an affectation that no longer seems to come too easily for him.]

( Yeah, well, we can't build any walls in here. )

[It's a lazy pointer on how different the territory they're in and the territory Bellamy's used to is. But it isn't as sharp as it could be. Murphy doesn't expect him to be useless. Just off step.

Sleep would probably help, and Murphy's close to suggesting he lay down, try to catch some more now while lights were on and Murphy could keep watch. But he's stopped by a siren breaking the air, guards coming to the door and yelling for them to line up for meal time.]

( Think you can eat? )

[Food wasn't sleep, but it was a step in the same direction. If Bellamy's stomach had settled enough to keep anything down.]

[ Jail is entirely new. Bellamy hadn't ever experienced it, even on the Ark. The idea that he'd have done better if he could claw his way back to the person he was when the dropship landed makes him uneasy. It's harder to affect that kind of swagger when all Bellamy associates it with is loss and death. He carries so much guilt; shucking it off and putting it aside is a daunting task.

The siren is unwelcome, as is the prospect of food. Bellamy sighs, but gets to his feet anyway. Right now, he doesn't have much of a choice. And who knew when they'd eat again? ]

( The sickness passed. I should be fine. )

[ It's just convincing himself to put something back into his body that's going to need work. ]

( Stay in front of me. )

[ All the better to keep himself between any incoming trouble and Murphy. The guards are opening the doors, and Bellamy doesn't have any faith in them being able to intervene quickly enough if something were to happen. ]

[It's almost an immediate thing, to tell Bellamy he doesn't need the protective act. He doesn't, really, especially if it's going to get any worse than this. But he'd be flying in the face of their history to say he doesn't need Bellamy's protection. Solo wasn't how people survived, and they worked best together.]

( Yeah, yeah. )

[The muttered response, getting into line in front of Bellamy. Yan ends up somewhere behind them. He doesn't keep too close a check. It's unlikely, he thinks, that he'll try anything with this many guards around.

He's right. They're marched out of the cell and into the central area without incident, ready prepared trays of food dumped into their hands before they take seats at the rows of tables. Murphy doesn't waste time trying to figure out what it is; he starts eating immediately, doesn't slow down for appearance or to match Bellamy's reluctant pace.

It turns out meal time is for meals only, though, according to the guard who comes over to get him moving as soon as it looks like he might just sit there with an empty tray in front of him. He gets up with a very similar acknowledgement as he'd given Bellamy earlier, turns to head back to their cell, and walks straight into the hardened plastic of one of the food trays.

It's over before it's really started. The first blow stuns him for a second, but when Yan follows it by tackling him to the floor, he gets his knees up, drives the point of his elbow into the back of Yan's neck until he lets go. Another second, a few solid punches to both his face and Yan's, and then there's the painful full-body jolt of a taser shock, Yan's weight being dragged off him and arms hauling him roughly to his feet.

Murphy catches sight of Bellamy's face briefly as the guards cart him away from the cells, and he has to smile, sharp with the blood in his mouth.]

( So much for staying in front of you. )

[ The fight happens too fast. Bellamy's reaction time is slow to start, and before he can take more than two steps to intervene a guard has him by the arm. The staff is attentive. Bellamy notes that grimly even as they haul Murphy and Yan out of the room. The quick action by the guards won't bode well for any future attempts at escape, but right now, Bellamy's more concerned about where they're taking Murphy.

The answer comes in an aside from another prisoner filing past. Solitary, probably.

Without Murphy, Bellamy's alone on their bed. He doesn't want to sleep, so he sits up, back against the wall, and watches the room resentfully. He's tugging fretfully on the connection before he can really stop himself, relieved that at least Murphy's conscious. ]

( Are you hurt? )

[ Assuming that Murphy would volunteer information about where he was along with whatever answer he provided. ]

[There's some bitter irony in Bellamy being concerned he's hurt, and Murphy, somewhat pettily, doesn't curb that from bleeding through.]

( I've had worse. )

[There's the sting of split skin on his knuckles, cheekbone, lip; the ache of a still-swelling black eye and bruised ribs. All of it's so low on Murphy's pain scale as to be non-existent, but he knows his perception might be skewed. Really, he's counting himself lucky the guards hadn't done more before they'd left.]

( Looks like fighting gets you dropped in solitary. )

[Same old, same old, and way more reminiscent of the Skybox than the previous cell had been. There's no clear glass walls and doors here. Just a tiny dark space, a cot and a toilet.]

[ Murphy's injuries bounce back to him through the bond. This isn't new. Bellamy remembers trying to spar with Kylo Ren and with Bruce; each punch he'd landed had doubled back between them. He can't ease Murphy's pain, but at least he can hold on to some of it. It'll make for a nice change from the obvious thud of guilt in the back of Bellamy's head. ]

( They wouldn't tell me for how long. )

[ Just like how they'd likely not told Murphy how long Bellamy would be in solitary. It makes sense. There's no reason for them to tell anything to Bellamy. ]

( I didn't see them. )

[ Bellamy doesn't need to say I'm sorry. The apology is so strongly implied, even in the face of Murphy's irritation. ]

[In his tiny new cell, Murphy feels the pulse of apology and guilt in Bellamy's head and rolls his eyes heaven(ground)ward, then yanks his pain out of Bellamy's hold. He doesn't need any help with it, just like he doesn't need any apologies for Bellamy being over the other side of the room when Murphy was getting a surprise meal tray to the face.]

( A day, if this place is anything like the Skybox. )

[He drops onto the cot, tucking his hands behind his head, examining the smooth black surface of the ceiling.]

( Hey, at least they dragged Yan in here too. Now we can both get some sleep. )

[ The mental equivalent of a sigh vibrates down the bond before Bellamy can stop himself. He feels helpless. There's nothing he can do but wait out Murphy's punishment as best he can while offering what little support Murphy would tolerate. It doesn't seem like enough.

He shifts, shoulders against the wall, legs drawn up. ]

( Yan had friends. )

[ Not that any of them had tried anything, but that doesn't keep Bellamy from being wary of possibilities. Or reluctant to sleep with Murphy in solitary. ]

( I'm not tired. )

[ Aka he just wants to keep Murphy company. ]

( That guy isn't going to try anything without him around. )

[Murphy's confident of it. The fact they don't know Yan's friend's name is enough to indicate how he stayed in the man's shadow, and Yan's particular manner wasn't the type to appreciate a win he wasn't around to have a hand in. Murphy can make a guess the guy's just going to stay in his corner and sleep.

But if Bellamy wants to be over-cautious, that's his choice.]

( Whatever, man. Your loss. )

[He shifts, settling his head more comfortably on the pillow of his arm. He's going to take as much advantage of his safe privacy as he can.]

[ Bellamy, unknowingly, mirrors the action. He settles on the bed with a huff. The cot isn't soft, but Bellamy's exhausted enough that he barely notices. Murphy's assessment is most likely right, but there's no way Murphy would gracefully accept the idea that Bellamy was sitting up to be sure that Murphy was alright. Nothing about this jail or the guards telegraphs sinister intention, and there's little Bellamy could do in his position, but he didn't think he could stand to wake up and find Murphy gone with the rest of the Hive nearly out of reach. ]

( I'll be here when you wake up. )

[ The "here" being connected and alert in this instance. ]

( I want to keep trying to get in touch with the others anyway. )

[ So uselessly straining. That'll be fun. ]

( Just don't give me the headache you get from it. )

[But he doesn't tell him not to bother at all. It wasn't like it was a pointless thing to be attempting, and Bellamy would have more luck with it than him. That's a reminder, though, of how disconnected he is now. Head empty except for Bellamy. The plan to have the symbiote removed had failed, but here was a small glimpse at the privacy he would have regained from it. What was the likelihood he'd ever get this again?

He doesn't cut the connection. He just pulls back, slowly putting space and walls between him and Bellamy, spinning the hold between them out. By the time he's done, the broad red of the belt has thinned to a single thread, caught tight around one finger. It's enough for contact. Continued knowledge of existence. But the inside of his head is his, entirely, nothing but his own thoughts, feelings and memories.

Falling asleep is probably easier than it should be.

He wakes up alone. The grip of it cinched down on him some unknown time before, in dream or nightmare, and it doesn't relent. It gnaws in the pit of his belly, crushes silent and cold over his chest. He pulls himself up to sit, swings his legs over the side of the cot, but the act of movement doesn't shake it loose. Just reminds him how small the room is, how empty it is, only the sound of his own breathing echoing off the smooth walls.

There are people outside. Other prisoners. Guards. There's Bellamy, the connection still strung between them, thin but steady. But that knowledge doesn't stop the swell of memory, the fear rising black in his chest that he's stuck here, that the door won't open, that the days will tick by and tick by and nothing will change, no one will come for him, no one will even look, and--

He fights, desperately, the urge to reach for Bellamy. Chokes it down. He gets to his feet, starts pacing the room, fingers dragging along the walls. It doesn't make it better. It makes it smaller, and closer, and still just as empty, his mind shaking with the effort of trying to pull up, away from the pit of fear and memory widening under each step.]

[ The request for space doesn't need to be vocalized. Murphy pulls away and the connection between them spins out, winnowing down to just a single thread. It's difficult not to start pulling on that thread and tug until he provokes a reaction. The only deterrent is the obvious fact that Murphy's alone and he's safe. There's nothing lost if Bellamy lets him alone.

He can feel it when Murphy falls asleep. In the absence of his brood and the rest of the Hive, the bond between them is the beneficiary of Bellamy's focus. He hadn't realized how much of his awareness had been instinctively devoted to monitoring the low buzz of other minds connected to his own. Even if they'd managed to cut their symbiotes out, would they ever have been able to shake that habit? Bellamy feels incomplete. There's no way to deny that.

Murphy had been right: without Yan, the others left behind are quiet. Bellamy doesn't intend to sleep, but he's able to relax slightly as attention shifts fully away from him. Alone on his cot, Bellamy stretches to try to reach Bruce, or to reconnect with Shiro, to find Clint again now that he's felt Clint's mind stirring. He comes up frustratingly empty. He circles back, opens his eyes to the jail and then sighs before closing them again.

The tug on the thread between them is customary. Bellamy expects irritation in return, but when the response doesn't come, he tugs at it a second time, insistent. ]

( Murphy? )

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