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The rain hitting the back of his neck was cold and he hunched even further over as he hurried down the alley in an effort to block it more.
John Murphy fucking hated the rain.
But it seemed to be the only type of weather in Polis as of lately. Drenching the already dreary city or just misting enough to keep an average day from being too nice. The wet asphalt reflected flashing colors of red, purple, and blue up at him as he strode across it. His leather jacket, while stylish, was of no use against this weather. The only good part of the rain was that it helped wash away the stench of the decaying earth outside the city walls. The recovery process was supposedly taking longer than expected.
Radioactive waste could do that to a planet.
As he moved further and deeper into the city, more pockets of rain-free areas cropped up. They were the result of the apartments buildings around him growing more compact. Stacked on top of each other in ways that didn’t make architectural sense, but certainly made more money for the bastard landlords and businessmen who owned them. Packing people in like cattle was a surefire way to keep people under your thumb and your pockets flowing.
The specific one that Murphy was walking towards eventually rose up in front of him. It was an oppressively large building with rain-darkened cement. The name, Sanctum, always made him chuckle as he walked past the rusted sign out front. It was one hell of a joke for a name.
He stole one last look over his shoulder before ducking into the building.
Home sweet home.
Sanctum was in the slums of Polis. It was easily forgotten by its owner, Russell Lightbourne, but it certainly wasn’t ignored by everyone else. The people living there were by all accounts innocent –– dealt a bad hand by life and left to play it out here. But there were people here with less than honorable careers.
Not that Murphy would ever completely judge them. He wasn’t that different than everyone else here.
He had the tragic upbringing. He had the criminal career, or at least he used to.
These were his people at the end of the day.
His way up the concrete steps was peppered with saying hello to the old woman who always sat on the first step to smoke, followed by slight nods to the couple members of the Azgeda gang that lived on the third floor. The usual cat on the eighth floor wasn’t there tonight and by the time he got to the twenty-first floor, all his neighbor Indra got from him was a curt nod. Not that she minded since that was all she ever gave in return.
People knew each other here but that was it. Life had taught them all to keep their heads down and their eyes forward. That’s what the government taught them after all. Living in a police state did that to you.
As usual, it took three jiggles of his keys and one quick kick to the base to get it to swing open.
He’d only begun to shrug his jacket off when he spotted the unexpected visitor sitting in his living room.
“Fucking hell, Emori,” he spat out once his heart rate had calmed down, “you can’t do that to people. What if I’d had my gun drawn?”
His ex-girlfriend stood up with a half-smirk on her face, though she had a bit of decency to look apologetic. She jerked her head to the side.
“Hi to you too, John. You left it here.”
He swore under his breath.
It was bad to tempt fate like that, leaving his place without a gun. He hadn’t made that mistake in years; he was lucky tonight.
The distraction of the gun only lasted so long though before his attention was brought back to the woman in front of him. How long had it been since he had last seen Emori? Probably their breakup. It had been an ugly one but he couldn’t help but think to himself that she looked just as beautiful now as she had then.
They stood awkwardly in silence. At one point he would have thought that he’d be able to tell what she was thinking but it’s been too long now and he’s not sure he can. There was a time where they had been in perfect sync with each other. A team, a comradery. Thick as thieves in the literal sense as they had scavenged the underbelly of Polis to earn a type of living. But that was then, and this was now.
“Do you need something?” He asked brusquely, ducking his head.
He always reverted to his default asshole mode when he didn’t know what else to do.
Emori cleared her throat, tucking some of her back behind her ear that had escaped from her usual bandana. He hated seeing her hand wrapped up again. It meant that she was hanging out again with people who judged her for the deformity.
“I’m in trouble.”
He blanched. “How much trouble are we talking about?”
“Not much,” she replied quickly, but her expression told another story. “Just enough that I need to lay low for a night or two. And I can’t go back to where I’ve been crashing, the Judges have been patrolling that area like rabid dogs.”
Murphy groaned, slouching against his wall as he rubbed his face.
Judges were the rule-invokers of Polis. A program initially initiated by the original Commander, they were to be the eyes and ears of the government and the military. As with everything in this city though, it had mutated over time. They weren’t just guards anymore. They were the police, the judge and jury, and the executioner. If they were patrolling the area, that was a bad sign.
“I thought you said you weren’t in much trouble.”
His deadpan tone hid the anxiety that was beginning to take over his mind.
No matter what he and Emori had gotten involved with during their time as criminals, it had never really attracted the attention of the Judges. They stayed away from the big stuff. The drugs, the killing. Theft was so minor here that it was easy to overlook. And for good reason they kept on the downlow –– there was no sense of honor or fairness in a Judge. You couldn’t trust them to spare you if they deemed you guilty. There was too much crime in Polis to not keep it under an iron fist.
The very idea that Emori was in enough trouble that Judges might be circling her place made his heart race. It was panic-inducing to know that he wouldn’t be with her if something happened.
But he corrected himself at that thought.
Because she was here –– she’d come to him for safety, to ride this out. That at least meant something and it meant that he could do what he could to keep her safe. Help keep her out of the way until things settled down.
It hadn’t really ever been a question since he’d opened the door and seen her. But now his mind was definitely made up.
“Yeah, you’re more than welcome to stay here. As long as you need. I promise it’s not a problem.”
The tension that had been in Emori’s shoulders immediately relaxed and she let out a long sigh.
“I can take the couch,” she said quickly, as if to assure him that he wouldn’t have to be aware of her presence.
Murphy shook his head.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Bellamy and Clarke dragged Miller here the other day after he got shot so she could patch him up. I haven’t cleaned out the blood yet.”
Emori bit back a laugh as she glanced over the couch. Yeah, maybe not the best idea .
“Well, I won’t kick you out of your own bed. If it’s not too weird…” She trailed off. Her tone wasn’t even suggestive but Murphy blushed all the same. He had to get a grip on himself. Of course she was making sure he was okay with it. She had been the one to break up with him after all, it was natural that he should be feeling odd about it.
The only problem was that he wasn’t feeling odd about it.
Or maybe it was odd that it wasn’t odd.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it so all he did was give a half shrug and plaster on his usual smirk.
“I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”
She rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen. But he didn’t miss the smile that had graced her features and he felt a swell of pride.
If he had thought it was difficult seeing her again in his living room, he clearly hadn’t thought about what it actually meant to have her stay over.
The sound of distant sirens filled the otherwise tensely silent apartment. For the most part, everything was where it had been when she had left him. But then something would be in a slightly different place and then there would be an awkward shuffle as he showed her where it was.
The two of them had never been domestic in the slightest, but even watching Emori heat up old leftover rations he had made it difficult to be in the same room as her. So instead he sulked in the living room with his small TV on, watching the routine broadcasting networks. Sheep in suits, he always thought to himself.
But then it was time for bed and it was definitely too much.
Gone was their usual entanglement of limbs. There was a rigidness to their postures that made Murphy’s heart ache. He missed the feeling of coming home from a thrilling theft, the adrenaline coursing through them. The rush, the high of almost getting caught but knowing how not to. It was a skill they had perfected together.
He could still feel the heat of her next to him, even with the space between them. And he could also tell that she was awake, despite the darkness obscuring her face.
“Can’t sleep?” His voice came out raspy as he tried to not disturb her in case he was wrong.
As he predicted though, she was still awake.
“Old habits die hard,” was her only response.
That was fair. Back when they’d have to do shifts while sleeping before he managed to snag an apartment in Sanctum. They’d been thieves so they had understood the danger of being unguarded on your own. It was a habit they hadn’t managed to kick even in the apartment, and it looked like it was still a thing.
He waited a bit longer before speaking again.
“It’s okay to tell me what’s going on. The trouble you’re in, I mean.”
He almost thought she had gone to sleep when she didn’t answer right away before she finally answered him.
“It was Otan. While we were living together, apparently he got into dealing Jobi. It wasn’t until I started living with him again that I found out he was actually making it.”
Murphy shifted in the bed, anger taking over.
“Jobi? Is he suicidal? That shit is the number one thing Judges are going after, that shit is too addictive to play around with.”
“Don’t get so high and mighty, you know Azgeda deals it out as well. You see them downstairs, all vacant. Their life is moving at a fraction of the speed they’re so permanently drugged out.” She sounded overly cross at him, making him rub his face in frustration.
“Obviously Azgeda is involved with Jobi, doesn’t mean it’s still not a suicide mission to deal it,” he snapped back. “And you’re not in Azgeda so I really don’t give a shit about what they do.”
He barely caught her sucking in her breath but she didn’t say anything.
Struggling to convey what he should have long ago, Murphy did his best to side shuffle a couple inches closer to her. He was aching. How could she not understand what he was worried about? It wasn’t about the Jobi, though there had been a reason they’d never been involved, but about her being in danger because of this. It was always about her.
“You never had to leave.”
He heard a soft, pained chuckle.
“Of course I did. I never would have been able to stay here. Not any longer.”
He didn’t want to probe her about this. He didn’t want to rehash old wounds.
But he had to know. He had to know because ever since she had appeared today in his life everything felt like it was too overwhelming. He wasn’t ignorant enough to only see the good memories, but he had to see it through her eyes. It was torture to know that there was a gap of almost two feet between them on this bed and he didn’t know how to close it.
“Why?” The question left his chest in a broken voice.
“You couldn’t see into the future, John.” Her voice cracked. “That was all that kept you going. Stealing was enough for you and when we had to stop… you just stopped trying. You didn’t look past that to see what we could be without that to define us.”
Her words stung as much as the tears at the corner of his eyes.
“I know, I know I fucked up,” he finally managed to choke out, “and I don’t have an excuse. But when we nearly got busted and you wanted to clean up our act, work at Raven’s auto shop and just move on from this life… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what else I was without all of that. I just didn’t know it was going to run you off.”
When she didn’t respond, he couldn’t help but continue.
“Once you left, I realized it wasn’t the jobs that kept me going. Those weren’t what made me stable, it was you. And when suddenly it felt like this life – me – wasn’t enough, I just panicked. But it was worse when you left. Because you’re the one who gives me purpose.”
He completed his impromptu speech and felt his body deflate. He’d barely admitted those words to himself so to say it aloud to Emori was more freeing than he would have ever guessed.
So caught up in the relief though, he didn’t pick up on the moment beside him.
Her kiss startled him.
It was rushed and overwhelming, as she had always been. Emori always took what she wanted and it was what had first drawn him to her. Tonight was no different.
Her lips moved against his in a desperation and he arched into it just as she then quickly pulled herself back. She didn’t move far though, hovering above him as they looked at each other. In the dark, he could barely make out the edge of her face. Faint light from the window broke filtered through, the faded blue outlining her cheekbones.
It made him slow just for a moment, watching the way the night cloaked her, before he leaned back in to respond with his own kiss. This one was slower. She’d initiated the first one but he didn’t want to scare her. He wanted her to not push him away, think her kiss was a mistake.
She didn’t move though.
She stayed, letting him gently kiss her before she began to respond. The urgency of the first kiss had been replaced by a curiosity as they relearned each other.
This hadn’t been Murphy’s plan when he’d told Emori she could stay the night here. But he was more than happy to let the night play out as it did.
Murphy was unsure of what he thought their morning would be like after spending the majority of the night in each other’s arms. He knew Emori wasn’t the type of person to immediately fall into his arms like nothing had ever happened.
There was more of a dance between them as they began to get ready for the day. Not much of a day to be fair, with Emori hiding herself but the routine made it feel less anxious. It at least seemed to help Emori as she seemed to lack the anxiety she’d held yesterday. His mind felt clearer as well, though he couldn’t help but think how much better they seemed to be behaving now that they were at least somewhat on the same page. They operated at best together.
Emori leaned up against the side of his couch, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He was thankful to see her hand uncovered again.
“So what’s the plan today?”
“I should probably get a quick hit in so I can get extra rations today,” Murphy thought out loud. “You should stay here,” he added when it looked like Emori was about to say something. “It’s not worth you risking being seen.”
“That makes sense,” she replied with a touch of forlornness to her tone. He knew she hated being cooped up. But she was also looking at him softly and with appreciation.
He wondered if there was a word for them now. Maybe there wouldn’t ever be one. The memory of her lips pressed against his was intoxicating and it was enough to lift him out of the moment that she was on the run. For now it was just them again, partners in crime in an uncertain world.
But if the kiss made him forget, the sound of banging on the door was enough to bring him back.
They both whirled around to stare at the door.
“They must have known to look here,” Emori whispered anxiously. “I won’t put you through this.”
“Emori, you can’t really think I’d let you go through this on your own.”
She looked at him helplessly.
Another bang on the door thudded throughout the room.
“POLIS JUDGES, OPEN UP!”
It was unusual that they hadn’t already burst the door down, a rare moment from the Judges. It means they might not have had quite as much on Emori as they wanted. But Murphy had no doubt that it was a thin thread of hope and that they were running out of time.
A flash of last night’s kisses burned into him again.
He knew it was time to make a decision.
Beside him, Emori grabbed the backpack she’d brought with her and slung it onto her back. He quickly darted into his room, locating his pre-prepped bag from behind his bedroom door. It was something Emori had taught him to always be prepared for.
Then they were back in the living room with shouts coming from outside of the hallway. It would be enough to draw out others from the floor, giving them a distraction while the Judge did their best to retain the chaos.
A moment’s distraction was all they needed.
Stealing a glance at each other, they both nodded.
How many times had they practiced escaping this building before? Murphy had lost track. It had been a game, a challenge. To first map out the air ducts, then to see how fast they could get through them. Was it possible to get from the 21st floor to the bottom without leaving them? Where were the shortcuts that would get them there faster? Service entrances, hidden backdoors. Empty apartments that had been forgotten and neglected.
It was like there had been no time since she had left as they moved in sync. The knowledge had been buried in him while she had been away, but now they were together again. They slipped into their roles with ease.
She didn’t look at him like an ex anymore. She looked at him with the confidence she had after their first con and it ignited a fire in him.
Maybe one day this life wouldn’t be their forever. Maybe one day they’d get the chance to be normal and just be together. But for now, the rush of the adrenaline was enough to keep him going. This was where he excelled. This was where they excelled together .
Wordlessly, they quickly hoisted the grate open. Emori crawled in first and after a quick glance at the apartment around him, Murphy followed her.
He didn’t know when they’d be coming back here. He might not ever, not if they were going to try to out run Judges this time. Any other life, it might have felt weird to leave a place. But Sanctum wasn’t home; this apartment wasn’t home. He used to think he didn’t have a home anywhere. But as he slid the grate back in place just before the door was kicked open, as he silently followed Emori through the labyrinth in the walls, he knew that wasn’t true.
He wasn’t sad he was leaving this apartment, not because he didn’t have a home, it was because she was his home.
As long as they were together, they would get through this life.