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“Abby’s dead.” It’s the first thing John says, to no one in particular, upon entering the cave where Emori, Raven and the rest of the defectors are staying. He’s breathless and jittery, hoping from one foot to the other. At first, Emori thinks it’s just because he was running from someone, but upon further glance, she notices he’s trying not to break down in tears. It's an all too familiar sight.
“McCreary cut off her supply, cause she wouldn’t cure him,” it comes out as a near-whisper. “And I-”
He barely manages to get the words out. “She didn’t make it through detox.”
He turns to Raven, who’s made her way through the crowd of defectors to face him, Shaw right behind her. “Did you know? That she was using?”
Raven nods solemnly. “The bunker was difficult, Murphy.” Echo says. “Abby saw some awful things. She had to do things that were impossible to live with.”
Raven shoots her a look that says ‘who asked you?’, and John simply ignores her. Not because he agrees, he’s just too exhausted to pick a fight with her. Emori remembers the deep-rooted sadness in his eyes, the dark cloud over his heart, the first time he told her about his father, then the bitterness in his voice when he told her about his mother. There’s no way Echo could justify to John that Abby was, not only an addict, but that she was most likely stealing medicine to get her fix.
“Raven,” he’s given up holding back his tears. “I’m so sorry.”
She looks at him, confused. “Murphy, this isn’t your fault.” At that moment, Emori feels as though she's been thrown through a time loop. She recalls hearing Raven tell John those exact words from the top of the staircase in Becca’s lab six years ago, although now it seems like it’s been a lifetime.
“I could’ve-” Raven cuts him off by shaking her head.
“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
She pulls him into a tight hug and he latches on immediately, buries his head in her neck. Emori looks away, feeling a pang of guilt. She should be the one comforting him, but it’s not her place anymore. She wouldn’t even know what to say; she’s out out practice. John was always better at the whole reassurance thing than she was anyways.
After a moment, Raven and John separate and he leaves the cave, saying he needs some air. His shoulders clip Emori’s but he doesn’t look at her. Cementing her feet to the ground in a feeble attempt not to follow him out, Emori turns to Raven instead and asks her if she’s okay. It’s an absurd question; of course she’s not okay. Whatever connection John had with Abby, Raven’s was stronger. Emori remembers that much from her trip to ALIE’s island (the rest she tries to forget). However, Raven gives her a weak smile.
“Truth is,” Raven sighs. “I finished grieving for her the minute she used the shock collar on me. She stopped being Abby when she got hooked on those pills.”
And with that she squeezes Emori’s shoulder, tells her to get some sleep and retreats back to her corner of the cave. She knows Raven’s lying, that she isn’t really fine, but Emori doesn’t want to pry. Everyone has their ways of coping and Raven’s was to bottle it up and store it; use the pain as ammunition to make her stronger. It was one of the many ways in which she admires Raven, but also feels sorry for her.
She looks at her friend for a moment, where she speaks to Shaw in a hushed voice, and suddenly Emori is remembering her and John’s first night off the boat.
They were in a cave much like this one. It was cold; she couldn’t light a fire because her hands were shaking too much and so John did it for her. Neither of them spoke for a while, not until she asked him what exactly Jaha did to her brother.
“Fed him a silicon computer chip and now some woman in a red dress is controlling their every move.” He didn’t look at her, instead he watched the flames and Emori couldn’t quite look away from how they danced in the reflection of his eyes. She noticed something else in them, but she couldn't quite name it- apprehension? guilt?
“Do you think I’ll ever get him back?” she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.
John turned to her, but said nothing. He didn’t have to. Tears began to fall but before she even realized it, he was right by her side, wiping them away with the sleeve of his jacket. Without thinking, she buried her face in his left shoulder and let out a sob. He tensed up for the slightest of seconds -not quite sure what to do next- before wrapping his arms around her. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; an animal that threatened to burst right out, had it not been held back by his ribcage. She vaguely remembers him murmuring reassuring thoughts into her hair, that her brother would be fine. Empty promises, she knew, but yet here he was, putting his lack of faith aside for her. It was something he would come to do a lot, especially when it came to trusting his people. The harsh blue lighting of Becca’s lab and John wrists, bruised and bloody from tugging on his restraints will forever be seared into Emori’s memory.
It was in this moment that Emori decided she would allow herself to fall in love with him. Any reservations she had about keeping him around, subconscious thoughts of how she could use him to her advantage once more, vanished. She didn’t tell him this, though. Instead she looked up at him and slowly leaned in to press her lips to his, hoping somehow he’d understand, as if the kiss could create some sort of telepathic bond between them. Maybe it did, because ever since that night, they’ve been in synch, as if their hearts beat as one. That’s why leaving him was so painful, it was like her heart was torn in two and John was walking around with the other half.
Bile rises to her throat as the memory becomes clearer. She feels the sudden urge to warn Raven that falling for the Pilot was a bad idea; that loving someone isn’t worth the person-sized hole in your heart that stays behind when they leave. You left him, Emori reminds herself, but it wasn’t really her choice, was it?
She tries to pinpoint the exact moment she lost him, just as Raven has with Abby. When he began burning the bridge between them, when the space between them in their bed became so big that it severed the imaginary, unbreakable red string connecting them, but she couldn’t. How could she grieve for the boy she once loved when he’s right in front of her? In space it was easy; he wasn’t John. He was a shell of his former self, almost as if everything that made him him remained on the ground and Emori was forced to watch from the Ring’s window as Praimfaya burned it all away.
He may be back now, but Emori’s made her choice. She refuses to be the person she was six years ago, not when she’s worked so hard to become the person she is now. She’s beyond proud of it, and as much as she hates to admit it, she desperately wishes John were too. She didn’t care as much before, but now it’s her uttermost desire. No, actually her uttermost desire is to feel the warmth of his body against hers, his lips on her neck and for him to-
She’s made her choice. She’s not falling into old habits again. She glances at Raven and Shaw once more, to see that she’s fallen asleep on his shoulder.
Still, she finds herself happy for Raven. Emori knows she hasn’t had the best experience with lovers; Wick, who cared too much and Finn, who didn’t care enough. Raven can look out for herself. The thing is, Raven isn’t her, and Shaw isn’t John. Emori’s not even sure who her and John are anymore. What she does know, is that if the old John Murphy is really back, he’s bound to do something stupid, and self destructive in his grief-stricken state. That much she could count on.
That’s what possesses her to finally follow him outside of the cave and for a brief moment, she does feel bad about this constant emotional flip-flopping she’s been pulling since she stepped out of the rover, but considering all of the emotional turbulence he’s put her through for the past six months, she figures they’re even.
It’s pouring rain and he’s sitting on a rock, just outside the lip of the cave, head buried in his hands. Either their time in space has made her footfall heavier or it heightened John’s senses, but Emori doesn’t have to say a word before he senses her presence.
“Leave me alone,” he says, without turning back to look at her. She’s barely a foot out of the cave as he says this.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
He pauses for a second, and perhaps the rare moments where he stops to think before opening his mouth are even more terrifying to Emori because that’s when she knows his words are going to cut deep. That or, maybe he didn’t expect it to be her. Emori suppresses another memory, this one more bitter than it is sweet. It was the first time she’d by come to see him since their breakup, before she’d gotten Raven to be a buffer between them, and the last time she’d seen him before spotting the Eligius ship. He hadn’t eaten in days, Bellamy practically begged her to bring him food. She found Bellamy’s persistence on keeping John afloat endearing at first, but ultimately his efforts were futile.
You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Long story short, Emori brought him the damn food, if you could even call it that, and returned to their side of the ship with tear-stained cheeks and purple love bites on her neck.
Bellamy didn’t make her go see him again.
John finally turns around to look at her after what feels like an eternity. “You’re right. I have no idea what you’re going to say. You know why?”
Emori shakes her head. She was right about one thing; although he doesn’t intend them to, his words do cut deep. He just severed that telepathic connection between them, right then and there. The one she thought was still there, albeit faint, when they planted the bomb against Eligius.
“Because I don’t know who you are anymore! One day you hate me, and the next you’re…” He huffs. “The next you’re just about ready to have sex with me five feet away from the bodies we just blew up. A good con, just like old times, right?”
The acidity in his voice nearly burns her. Emori says nothing. They stay silent, the only sound is that of the rain and the wind.
“Why are you even out here?” His voice softens, and it’s as much of an apology that Emori thinks she’ll get at the moment. She decides that’s her queue, she sits down beside him and takes his hand into her smaller one. It’s a small victory when he doesn’t pull away.
“What I said about not enjoying seeing you suffer? I didn’t just mean physical pain.”
He looks her in the eyes for the first time tonight and Emori can see all of the stages of grief in his expression all at once. She tries to hold on to even the slightest bit of anger she held towards him, but she can’t. Not when he’s looking at her like that. The wall they’ve unwillingly helped each other build between them is falling, and has been since the rocket.
“You know Abby’s death isn’t your fault, right? Neither was your mom or your dad’s.”
No response. How unlike him.
“Talk to me, John.”
That one sentence appeared to have triggered something inside John’s head. He tore his hand away from hers and leaps up from where he was sitting, as if he were holding a hot iron instead of the hand of the girl he once loved. Or still loves? It wasn’t so clear anymore.
“No,” he’s almost yelling now. “You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?” Emori says, exasperated.
“Walk back into my life! Whenever you decide you can handle it.”
Of all the potential scenarios Emori ran through her head of how this would go in the 5 seconds it took her to get out here, this was not one of them.
“I- I’m not trying to! But, John, I still care about you. That doesn’t just go away.”
“Why?” His tone goes soft once more, it’s almost at a whisper.
“What do you-”
“Why did you get out of the Rover? Why did you kiss me back? Why do you still care when you’re so much better off without me?”
Emori doesn’t know how to answer any of those questions. She’s asked herself all of them several times. She’s chalked it up to the fact he’s clicked back into survivor’s mode, back to being the guy she fell for in the first place but maybe it’s more than that. The fact that he got out of the rover, if it meant saving Bellamy, Clarke and the entirety of Wonkru from the missiles, or his persistence about getting Raven out of the Eligius camp. The old John would have never done that, and the old Emori wouldn’t have bat an eye. She thought the problem she had with still loving him was the fact that he hadn’t changed, but he has. Without the artificial lighting of the Ring, or the recycled air filling their lungs, she’s beginning to see that he’s become just as protective of their little family as she has.
It still doesn’t fix what happened between them, but it’s a start.
Raven taking her under her wing allowed Emori to create new words using code, so how come she’s not able to get any out now? Feelings aren’t created with code, she reminds herself. There’s no escape key in the real world, no backspace button to take back all of the awful things that we’ve said to each other over the past six months. So she stays silent. He runs a hand through his soaking wet hair and continues.
“God, you’re the best thing I’ve ever had. And I ruined us. I should’ve been there for you. I should have fucking been there for you,” he pauses, and Emori can’t tell if he’s crying or if it’s just rain drops falling on his cheeks.
“I couldn’t save us, I couldn’t save Abby, Bellamy almost died in a gladiator pit, Monty and Harper are staying behind with a grounder cult; I can’t save anyone! And that never used to matter, not until we got back down to the ground. But the only thing I’ve ever done right is not die and I’m beginning to wonder why I even bother; what’s the point of surviving if there’s nothing at the end of it? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I get off on people killing each other and starting a civil war. Why I became so fucking useless the minute there was nothing to do but live and-”
Before he can finish, Emori cups his face in her hands and kisses him. Softly, not full of wanting and desire like the last time. She wants him to know that she's here, that she's real. The rain is reminiscent of the stream they found within the first week off the boat, when he pushed her in and they spent the day in it like children. She hopes he remembers that too. It takes him a heartbeat, but he kisses back. His arms wrapping around her waist and hands settling on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Warmth radiates off of his skin and keeps her warm, even as the rain seizes to fall around them and the air turns colder.
When they part, he looks at her wide-eyed.
“Why did you do that?”
“You were spiralling. It’s the only way I know how to calm you down,” she replies softly, a blush creeping on her cheeks. “You know talking’s not really my thing.”
It was an attempt at cheeky humour. Emphasis on attempt. Instead, John looks at her sadly.
“This isn’t what you want?” it comes out as more of a statement than a question. His voice cracks. It wasn’t just the rain; he was definitely crying.
She pauses, her hand still on his cheek, thumb stroking his chin. What does she want? She wants what they used to have - the excitement, the adventure. How easy it would be to tell him he’s wrong, to run off with him. Maybe she wouldn’t even need to; maybe they could stay right here, in the Valley. After the war, Diyoza could give them a plot of land and they could have a house, even a child. John would be a great father.
There’s a fifty percent chance Eligius won’t win this war. It’s a fairytale, she realizes. That wasn’t the issue; nothing about her whirlwind romance with John Murphy was never practical. Loving him was the biggest risk she ever took but she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Being with him taught her more than Raven ever could. He taught her how to live, and not just survive. He taught her to love; first him, then herself. She was forced to make the impossible choice between love and knowledge. She chose knowledge. That's how she knows she changed. The cave hopping, running cons, it’s not where she’s at anymore. They can’t keep relying on a burnt out flame to keep them alive. The problem is that he still has yet to learn this. How long will it be until he falls apart again? Until he gets bored, decides he doesn’t like the person he’s become? That she’s become?
“Not right now, no,” the words leave her mouth before she has to chance to choose them, hoping that somehow he can still understand what she’s trying to say.
Of course he doesn’t. How could he if she doesn’t even know what she means?
“Okay let me put it like this. How many times have we lost and found each other again?” she raises an eyebrow at him.
“It will happen again, our story is not over,” she continues. “But not until you take care of yourself. And I was wrong before, I can’t expect you to get better without helping you get there.”
He’s looking down now, Emori tilts his chin upwards so that their eyes meet. “In order for that to happen, you have to be willing to let me help you. You have to talk to me, John.”
He looks at her, they both know nothing can be the same. Too much has changed; too much damaged has been done. There's still a lot of apologies to be said but being in each other's lives again is better than nothing, and maybe one day, their hearts will beat as one again. He holds her -newly gloveless- badass hand.“Okay,” he says, after a minute.
She gives him a tired smile. “Okay.”