Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning light filtered through the dense canopy, but all Murphy could focus on was the dull, persistent ache in his gut—a reminder that survival on Earth had just gotten a whole lot harder.

He glanced around the camp, careful to keep his expression neutral as the other delinquents stirred awake, none of them any wiser to the battle he was fighting beneath his worn-out clothes.

Every move felt like a calculated risk—stand up too quickly, and he might draw attention; stay seated too long, and someone would start asking questions. The last thing he needed was Bellamy breathing down his neck, noticing the slightest hint of weakness.

Murphy forced himself to his feet, biting back a grimace as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He could feel the sticky warmth pooling where it shouldn't, a constant reminder that his makeshift solution wasn’t going to hold much longer. He needed to find a secluded spot—somewhere out of sight, where he could deal with this before anyone noticed. But out here, privacy was a luxury he didn’t have. One wrong step, one slip-up, and they’d know. They’d all know.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping it would make him look more relaxed than he felt. Octavia walked past him, shooting a quick nod in his direction as she headed toward the edge of the camp. Murphy gave a stiff nod back, praying she wouldn’t stop to talk. He could handle Octavia, maybe even joke his way out of an awkward conversation. But if Bellamy showed up, asking questions with that look that said he knew more than he let on, Murphy wasn’t sure he could bluff his way through it.

He scanned the camp, searching for a spot that offered at least a little cover. The drop ship was too exposed, and the trees near the river were usually swarming with others collecting water. His eyes landed on a cluster of thick bushes near the outskirts of the camp. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He could make it work. He had to.

Moving as casually as possible, Murphy slipped away from the camp, making his way toward the bushes. His heart pounded in his chest, each step feeling like it was echoing too loudly in the quiet morning air. Just a few more feet, he told himself, ignoring the way his legs trembled with each step. Once he was there, he could finally breathe. Finally take care of the mess that was becoming impossible to ignore.

He reached the bushes and crouched down behind them, his breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. The tension in his body made everything worse, every cramp sharper, every movement more agonizing. He was on borrowed time, and he knew it. But at least here, behind the foliage, he was hidden—at least for the moment.

Murphy barely had time to pull his shirt up and check the damage when he heard footsteps approaching. Panic shot through him, and he froze, not daring to move a muscle. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped just on the other side of the bushes. He held his breath, praying that whoever it was would just keep walking, that they wouldn’t look down and find him crouched there, trying to hold himself together.

The silence stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity. Murphy could hear the person shifting their weight, the faint rustle of leaves as they paused, maybe scanning the area. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to stay still, to not make a sound. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, mixing with the tension that gripped his entire body.

“Murphy?” a voice called out. His stomach lurched. It was Bellamy. Of course it was. Who else would be lurking around, looking for stragglers this early in the morning?

Murphy swallowed hard, his mind racing for an excuse—any excuse—to explain why he was hiding behind a bush like a damn idiot. He couldn’t think of anything. Not when the reality of what was happening pressed in on him, making it harder to breathe. Maybe if he stayed silent, Bellamy would just walk away.

But Bellamy wasn’t the type to give up easily. “Murphy, I know you’re out here,” he called again, his voice firmer this time.“Quit messing around and get back to camp. We’ve got work to do.”

Murphy clenched his jaw, every nerve on edge. He couldn’t go back now, not like this. The makeshift solution he’d rigged up was barely holding, and if Bellamy kept pressing him, everything would unravel right in front of his eyes. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this one. But staying here wasn’t an option either. Bellamy was persistent, and Murphy knew he wouldn’t leave until he had answers.

“I’m coming,” Murphy finally called back, forcing his voice to stay steady. He hastily adjusted his clothes, wiping his hands on his pants to hide any trace of the mess he was desperately trying to keep under control. His heart raced as he stood up from the bushes, straightening himself out as much as possible before stepping into Bellamy’s line of sight.

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed the moment Murphy appeared, his gaze sharp and calculating. “What the hell were you doing back there?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His tone wasn’t accusatory yet, but it was close enough to make Murphy’s pulse quicken.

“Nothing,” Murphy shot back too quickly, regretting it the second the word left his mouth. He forced a casual shrug. “Just…needed a minute, alright? It’s not a crime to take a break every now and then.”

Bellamy’s frown deepened, his eyes flicking over Murphy’s face, his posture, like he was trying to read between the lines. Murphy could feel the scrutiny, the weight of Bellamy’s suspicion. He held his ground, even as his stomach twisted into tighter knots. He couldn’t afford to crack now. Not with Bellamy staring him down like a hawk.

“You don’t look too good,” Bellamy said after a moment, his voice dropping to something less authoritative, more concerned. “You sick or something?”

Murphy swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier. “I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to keep his voice even. But the cracks were starting to show. He could feel it in the way Bellamy looked at him—like he knew something was off, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it yet. Murphy’s skin prickled with unease, the pressure of keeping it all together building with every second that Bellamy didn’t look away.

Bellamy took a step closer, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure about that?” he asked, softer this time, as if he was trying to coax the truth out of him. “You don’t have to tough it out, Murphy. If something’s wrong, just say it.”

Murphy’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, to brush off Bellamy’s concern with a snarky comment, but the words got stuck in his throat. The urge to lie, to deflect, to keep this buried—it was instinctual. But standing here, under Bellamy’s piercing gaze, that instinct felt more like a noose tightening around his neck. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Murphy’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, to brush off Bellamy’s concern with a snarky comment, but the words got stuck in his throat. The urge to lie, to deflect, to keep this buried—it was instinctual. But standing here, under Bellamy’s piercing gaze, that instinct felt more like a noose tightening around his neck. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

The seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Murphy’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but Bellamy’s presence was an impenetrable wall. The tension between them was palpable, and Murphy felt the walls closing in. Bellamy’s gaze was sharp, but there was no warmth—just the scrutiny of someone who didn’t want to deal with any more problems.

“Look, Murphy,” Bellamy said, his tone carrying the usual edge of annoyance. “If you’re having issues, just say so. We’ve got enough problems without you adding to them.” His voice was blunt, clearly frustrated, but it was more about getting through the day than showing genuine concern.

Murphy felt a mix of relief and irritation. Bellamy’s approach wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for, but at least it wasn’t prying too deeply. He forced a tight smile and shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m fine. Just had a rough night, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Bellamy’s frown didn’t ease, and his eyes remained sharp. “Well, if you say so,” he said, though his tone carried a clear edge. “Just don’t screw up today. We don’t need any more problems.”

Murphy felt a mix of relief and irritation. Bellamy’s approach was blunt and unsympathetic, which was exactly what he had come to expect. He forced a tight smile, masking his frustration. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Bellamy’s gaze didn’t waver, and there was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Look, Murphy, we’ve all got our issues. Just try not to let yours get in the way of what needs to be done. We’re in a tough spot, and your personal problems aren’t exactly a priority.”

Murphy’s smile faltered slightly, but he managed to keep his tone even. “Got it. I’m on it.” He turned away from Bellamy, heading back into the camp with a renewed determination to blend in and keep his struggles under wraps.

Re-entering the camp, the constant activity and noise were a stark reminder of the challenges he faced. Murphy threw himself into his tasks with almost frantic energy, trying to ignore the persistent discomfort and the looming threat of exposure. Every glance from his fellow delinquents, every casual conversation, felt like a potential trigger for his anxiety.

He walked briskly to a more secluded part of the camp, where some makeshift shelters were set up. Murphy scanned the area for anything he could use to address his situation. Spotted some spare cloths and scraps of fabric—potential solutions if he could retrieve them discreetly.

Quickly grabbing a few cloths, Murphy ducked into an unoccupied tent. Inside, he took a deep breath to steady himself. The tent offered some privacy but was only a temporary refuge.

Murphy set to work, trying to fix his makeshift solution with the scraps he’d gathered. The process was awkward and uncomfortable, and the pressure was mounting. Each movement was careful, but the ticking clock heightened his anxiety. He had to get this right before someone came looking or he was forced to confront the issue in a more exposed setting.

As he worked, he heard footsteps approaching the tent. Murphy’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly gathered the remaining scraps, shoving them into a corner before emerging. He forced a casual look, masking the urgency of his predicament.

The footsteps belonged to Octavia, who gave him a curious look as he stepped out. “Everything alright, Murphy?” she asked, her tone tinged with concern but not intrusive.

“Yeah, just needed a quick break,” Murphy replied, his voice tight but steady. “Nothing to worry about.”

Octavia nodded and walked away, leaving Murphy to exhale in relief. He took a moment to compose himself before returning to his tasks, his mind still buzzing with the need to stay vigilant. The immediate crisis was averted, but the underlying tension and discomfort remained, reminding him to keep his guard up.

Chapter Text

Murphy took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The makeshift fix he’d managed to put together would have to hold for now, but the discomfort remained—a constant reminder of how precarious his situation was. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not with so many eyes around.

He stepped out of the tent, scanning the camp for any signs of Bellamy. The last thing he needed was to draw attention, especially from someone who already didn’t trust him. But luck wasn’t on his side. Bellamy was nearby, overseeing the morning activities with his usual stern expression. Murphy’s gut twisted. He knew Bellamy would be watching him, waiting for any excuse to call him out.

Murphy tried to slip back into the flow of the camp, keeping his head down and his movements casual. But he hadn’t gone more than a few steps before Bellamy’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the camp. “Murphy! Get over here!”

Murphy froze for a split second before forcing himself to move. There was no use in pretending he hadn’t heard. As he approached Bellamy, he could feel the weight of the other boy’s gaze on him, sharp and unyielding.

“What took you so long?” Bellamy demanded, his tone leaving no room for excuses. His eyes narrowed as he looked Murphy up and down, clearly searching for something—anything—that might explain his absence.

“I was dealing with something,” Murphy replied, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Bellamy didn’t look convinced. “Dealing with what, exactly?” His tone was edged with suspicion, the kind that made Murphy’s skin crawl. “You’ve been slacking off a lot lately. I don’t have time to babysit you, Murphy. We’ve all got work to do.”

Murphy bristled at the accusation, but he knew better than to snap back. Bellamy wouldn’t hesitate to make an example out of him in front of everyone. “I’m not slacking,” he shot back, trying to sound calm. “Just had to take care of something personal. It’s done now.”

Bellamy stared at him for a moment longer, as if weighing whether to push the issue. But finally, he just shook his head, his expression hardening. “Just stay out of trouble,” he muttered, turning away.

Murphy felt a wave of relief, but it was short-lived. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Bellamy might have let it go for now, but he’d be watching, waiting for Murphy to slip up.

Murphy spent the rest of the day trying to blend in, keeping his head down as he moved through the camp. He was constantly on edge, his mind running through a list of tasks that needed to be done while also staying hyper-aware of the potential for exposure. Each interaction was a balancing act—he couldn’t afford to seem too distant or too involved. He had to be just present enough to avoid suspicion.

At the water station, he encountered Monty, who was busy filtering water with a focused expression. Monty barely glanced up when Murphy approached, muttering a quick “Hey,” before returning to his work. Murphy nodded in response, trying to act normal as he helped transfer the clean water to makeshift containers. The task was simple, but Murphy’s mind was elsewhere, thinking about how to get through the day without any slip-ups.

Later, while gathering firewood near the outskirts of the camp, Murphy ran into Jasper. Jasper, who was in slightly better spirits than usual, cracked a joke about the Grounders that managed to draw a forced chuckle from Murphy. But even as he laughed, Murphy’s thoughts were on the time—he needed to keep track of when he’d need to check his makeshift solution again. Jasper didn’t seem to notice anything off, but his carefree demeanor made Murphy envious of how easy everything seemed for everyone else.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Murphy found himself at the communal fire, where most of the delinquents gathered for their evening meal. Clarke was discussing plans for the next day with Bellamy, her tone serious as she outlined what needed to be done. Murphy made sure to keep his distance, though he could feel Bellamy’s eyes on him more than once. Bellamy didn’t say anything, but Murphy knew he was watching, waiting for any sign that something was wrong.

Octavia joined the group late, carrying a bundle of herbs she’d gathered. She handed them off to Clarke and sat down next to Murphy, giving him a quick once-over. “You look like you’ve been through hell today,” she commented, her voice low so only he could hear. Murphy shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Just tired,” he muttered, hoping she’d let it drop. Octavia didn’t push, but there was a hint of worry in her eyes that Murphy didn’t like. He couldn’t afford for anyone to start asking questions, especially not her.

Murphy sighed in relief as Octavia walked away, leaving him a moment of peace. He turned back to his tasks, feeling the weight of his discomfort easing just slightly. The camp was alive with the usual buzz of activity—people were huddled around fires cooking meals, others were organizing supplies or working on repairs. The din of conversations, arguments, and laughter created a backdrop that felt oddly comforting amidst his stress.

He spotted Bellamy and Finn near the river, their voices carrying over the camp. “You know, Finn, Murphy’s been acting strange lately,” Bellamy was saying, his tone sharp. “He’s been dodging work and seems like he’s always in some kind of hurry.”

Finn looked up from the task at hand, his expression thoughtful. “You think something’s wrong? Maybe he’s just got a lot on his mind. We all do.”

Bellamy shook his head. “Maybe. But we can’t afford to have anyone slacking off, not with everything we’re dealing with. We need to keep an eye on him.”

Murphy tensed at the mention of his name, instinctively trying to blend into the background. He couldn’t hear Finn’s response clearly, but he saw him shrug and go back to work. Murphy knew he had to keep his interactions low-key to avoid drawing any unwanted attention.

As he made his way to the communal area, he encountered Jasper and Monty again. Jasper was grumbling about the failed traps. “I swear, if one more trap doesn’t work, I’m going to lose it. I’m supposed to be a survivalist, not a joke.”

Monty snickered. “At least your traps don’t have a personal vendetta against you. Mine just seem to malfunction at the worst possible moments.”

Murphy grinned at their banter. “Hey, don’t worry. At least your traps are inventive. I’d call that a win in my book.”

Jasper shot him a mock glare. “Yeah, thanks for the support, Murphy. Next time, I’ll make sure to add ‘Murphy-approved’ to the list of features.”

Murphy laughed, though he had to quickly suppress a grimace from the sharp pain in his abdomen. “Hey, as long as you keep trying, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Besides, the entertainment value alone is worth it.”

With a final wave, Murphy moved on, heading towards a corner of the camp where a few people were sitting around, sharing food and stories. He saw Octavia chatting with Raven, the latter looking particularly stressed as she tried to fix a piece of equipment.

Octavia noticed Murphy approaching and gave him a warm smile. “Hey, Murphy. Want to join us? Raven could use a break, and I’m sure she’d appreciate some help.”

Murphy nodded, his mind still preoccupied with his discomfort. “Sure, Octavia. I could use a break too.”

As he sat down, Raven glanced up, her expression softening slightly. “Oh, great. Another pair of hands. I could use some help here. This thing’s been giving me trouble all morning.”

Murphy took a seat beside her and started examining the equipment. “Let’s see what’s going on. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

As they worked side by side, Murphy tried to keep the conversation light, sharing a few stories and jokes to ease the tension. Raven appreciated the distraction, and her frustration seemed to dissipate as they made progress on the repairs.

Meanwhile, Bellamy was still keeping a close eye on Murphy from a distance. Every now and then, his gaze would shift towards Murphy, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. It was clear that Bellamy wasn’t convinced by Murphy’s attempts to blend in, and Murphy could feel the weight of his scrutiny even when he wasn’t looking directly at him.

Chapter Text

HIII to everyone who read my work. I am so grateful that yall have enjoyed it so far, and I am sorry for being MIA for so long. School recently restarted and I've being trying to get accustomed to my new schedule and I have a lot of work to get done. I can't find the right time where I'm not busy or tired, so this is just to update yall that no I am not abandoning this work, just will be taking a break for a bit to get readjusted at school and life in general and I will continue the work.❤️❤️❤️

Chapter Text

The camp was restless as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a dim orange glow through the trees. Fires sputtered to life in scattered rings, their crackling voices filling the air as delinquents huddled in groups, sharing scraps of food and laughter. It all seemed normal on the surface, but Murphy knew better. Normal didn’t exist here—not really.
For two days, he’d been keeping his secret, gritting his teeth through the pain and the exhaustion. The makeshift solution he’d rigged wasn’t cutting it anymore, but there was no chance of asking for help. Not when the idea of anyone knowing made his stomach churn worse than the cramps already tearing through him.
He sat on an overturned crate near the edge of camp, fiddling with the frayed hem of his shirt to keep his hands busy. His face was drawn, pale, and faintly damp with sweat, though he was trying his hardest to hide it.

“Murphy!”

The sharp bark of his name made him flinch, nearly knocking the crate over. Bellamy’s voice cut through the air like a whip. Murphy stiffened and glanced toward the sound. Bellamy was standing near the center of camp, his arms crossed, scanning the groups of delinquents like a wolf picking out its next meal.
His gaze swept over Murphy, lingering a moment too long before narrowing.
Murphy cursed under his breath. He didn’t have the energy for this, not tonight.
Bellamy moved toward him with his signature deliberate stride, every step heavy with the weight of authority he wielded like a weapon. Murphy felt his stomach twist with equal parts irritation and dread.

“Murphy,” Bellamy said again, his tone low and clipped.

“Bellamy,” Murphy replied, not bothering to mask the sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t look up. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Don’t tell me—there’s a new ‘emergency’ you need me to fix.”

“Cut the crap,” Bellamy snapped, stopping a few feet away. His arms stayed crossed, his eyes sharp. “What’s going on with you?”
Murphy’s jaw tightened. “Wow, didn’t know you cared,” he shot back, the edge in his voice a little too raw.

“I don’t,” Bellamy said flatly. “But I’m not an idiot. You’ve been acting weird for days, sneaking off, skipping work, and looking like you’re about to keel over. I don’t have time for this, Murphy. Spill it.”
Murphy forced a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Newsflash, Bellamy: not everything’s about you. Maybe I’m just tired of your overbearing, self-righteous ass breathing down my neck every second.”
Bellamy’s expression hardened. He took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “If you think you can just walk around here and screw up without consequences, think again. Whatever you’re hiding—”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Murphy snapped, standing up so fast he swayed slightly. His fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Bellamy. “I’m fine, okay? Just back off.”
Bellamy didn’t move, his gaze boring into Murphy with infuriating calm. “You’re lying.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. Around them, a few heads turned toward the commotion, but Murphy barely noticed. His vision swam slightly, the edges darkening, and he swallowed hard to keep himself steady.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered finally, brushing past Bellamy.
But Bellamy wasn’t letting him off that easily. He grabbed Murphy’s arm, yanking him back with more force than necessary. “You think you can just walk away? Not happening.”
Murphy wrenched his arm free, the sudden movement making him wince as a sharp pain lanced through his abdomen. “What the hell is your problem?” he growled, his voice hoarse. “Why do you care so much what I’m doing? It’s not like I matter to you—or anyone else, for that matter.”
Bellamy’s scowl deepened. “Because when you screw up, it affects all of us! You want to play lone wolf, fine. But if whatever’s wrong with you puts the rest of us in danger—”

“I said it’s nothing!” Murphy snapped, his voice cracking slightly. “God, you act like I’m plotting some kind of rebellion! I just want to be left alone!”
The sharpness of his words carried through the clearing, silencing even the faint chatter nearby. Octavia, who had been sitting a few feet away, stood abruptly, her eyes darting between the two of them.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she asked, her voice hesitant but edged with concern.

“Stay out of it, O,” Bellamy said without looking at her.
Murphy laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s rich. Always gotta be in charge, huh, Bellamy? Can’t even handle a private argument without dragging an audience into it.”

“Enough,” Bellamy snapped, his voice sharp. He lowered it slightly, his tone turning dangerous. “If you’re hiding something that’s gonna screw the rest of us over, I will find out. And trust me, Murphy, you won’t like how it ends.”
Murphy glared at him, his hands shaking with barely contained frustration. He wanted to lash out, to hit something, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Bellamy always won. Always.

“Just leave me alone,” Murphy said finally, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “I’m not your problem.”
Bellamy didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Murphy. For a moment, his expression softened, but it vanished just as quickly as it came.

“You’re making yourself my problem,” Bellamy muttered. He turned and walked away, his posture rigid with irritation.
Murphy stood frozen for a moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He could feel the weight of Octavia’s gaze on him, but he didn’t dare look her way. Instead, he turned and walked toward the tree line, desperate for some space to breathe.

Later That Night
The camp had settled into its usual restless quiet, the fires burning low as most of the delinquents huddled into their makeshift shelters. Murphy sat alone near the edge of camp, his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared into the darkness beyond the trees.
For two days, he’d been barely holding it together, and he could feel himself unraveling. The makeshift bandages weren’t enough anymore, and the constant discomfort was wearing him down in ways he didn’t know how to cope with.
He leaned his head back against the crate, closing his eyes for a moment. His thoughts churned, Bellamy’s voice echoing in his mind: You’re lying.
He wasn’t wrong. But what choice did Murphy have?
The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. He tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward the knife at his belt, but it was only Octavia.

“Relax,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m not here to fight.”

Murphy sighed, dropping his hand. “What do you want?”

“To check on you,” she said, sitting down beside him. “You looked ready to pass out earlier.”

“I’m fine,” Murphy muttered, the words automatic.
Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because that’s totally convincing.”
Murphy didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” Octavia continued, her voice quiet but steady. “But you should tell someone. You can’t keep this up.”
Murphy’s throat tightened, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

After a moment, Octavia sighed and stood. “Just… don’t let him get to you, okay? Bellamy’s a jerk, but he’s not always wrong.”
She walked away, leaving Murphy alone with his thoughts.
For the first time in two days, he let himself consider the possibility that she was right.