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"Can she... uh... see me?" Murphy asked hesitantly, his gaze flickering to Josephine- the imposter wearing you.
She had your face, your voice, but nothing about her felt like you. The way she held herself, the way she moved- it was all wrong. And Murphy had known the moment she approached him. He knew you from the light in your y/e/c eyes to your smile to your gait.
His voice came out strained despite his best efforts, the weight of it obvious enough that Josephine took notice.
Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. She might not have had all your memories, but she was quick. Too quick. "Oh, yeah," she mused, tilting her head in amusement. "Y/N can see you. And she knows you betrayed her."
Murphy forced himself not to flinch, but the sharp twist in his gut made it damn near impossible.
Josephine took his silence as an opportunity to twist the knife.
"You should be relieved, really," she continued, voice dripping with faux sympathy. The upturn of your lips were lightyears away from what your smile looked like. "Now Y/N can finally move on from all that... unnecessary pining."
Murphy clenched his jaw. He didn’t let the words rattle him- at least, not on the surface. He just rolled his eyes, like he always did when someone got too close to the truth.
But deep down?
The words lingered.
Because if there was even a chance that Y/N had ever wasted time pining over someone like him…
Well, that was a thought dangerous enough to throw the whole damn plan off course.
Murphy knew he should have let it go. Stuck to the plan. Played the long game. But the second Josephine’s words left your mouth, something in him snapped. It wasn’t just the taunt, or the way she used you like a weapon against him. It was the idea that you were trapped in there somewhere, watching this unfold.
Believing, even for a second, that he had actually given up on you.
He could live with being called a coward. A liar. A traitor. He’d been all those things before.
But making you believe it?
That was something he couldn’t let happen.
So, against every ounce of self-preservation in his body, he abandoned the plan in an instant.
Josephine barely had time to react before he surged forward, grabbing her- you- by the wrist and hauling her closer. His grip was firm, but not cruel, a silent plea just beneath the surface.
"Let her go," he said, voice low and rough. Please.
Josephine arched a brow, amusement flickering behind your eyes. "Oh, Murphy," she sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you were finally thinking like a survivor. What exactly do you think is gonna happen here? You fight me? Save the girl? Kiss her awake like some tragic fairytale?"
His lips parted, as if he was going to say something, but her words burned as they cut him off.
She leaned in, dropping her voice to something only he could hear. "She’s already gone, John."
His throat tightened.
"Yeah?" he muttered. "Then why are you still talking to me like she’s listening?"
That, finally, made her falter. Just for a second.
It was enough.
Murphy wasn’t a hero. Never had been. But if there was any chance of getting you back- any at all- then he was going to take it.
Even if it killed him.
His grip tightened, and before Josephine could pull back, Murphy leaned in, lowering his voice to a murmur only you- she- could hear.
"You still in there, Princess?" His fingers dug into your wrist just slightly, enough to ground you if you were still fighting. "I don’t care what she says. You hold on. You hear me?"
Josephine rolled her eyes. "God, this is getting pathetic." She yanked free from his grip, smoothing out the front of her stolen clothes. "You’re wasting your time, Murphy. But hey- if you wanna keep playing the tragic lost love, be my guest." She gave him a slow, taunting smile. "Meanwhile, I’ll be making sure she never comes back."
Murphy didn’t react. Not outwardly.
Inside? Rage.
She was cocky. Too cocky. And that would be her mistake.
Murphy had no delusions- he wasn’t Bellamy, some noble warrior ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. But he was a survivor. And if there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was how to con a con artist.
So, he forced a slow smirk onto his lips. "You know what? Maybe you’re right," he said, stepping back as if he was backing down. "Maybe I was getting sentimental."
Josephine's eyes narrowed, but the smug expression remained. "See? I knew you were smarter than you looked."
"Mm," Murphy hummed, tilting his head. "I do look pretty damn good though, huh?"
She snorted, rolling her eyes, and that was exactly what he needed- her guard lowering just enough.
Because while she was busy underestimating him, Murphy was already making his next move.
He turned slightly, as if conceding, as if letting it go, but his eyes flicked over her shoulder- straight to Emori, waiting in the shadows, eyes sharp and ready.
The plan was already in motion.
He just had to sell it.
Murphy let his smirk drop just enough to make it look real. "Fine. You win. The girl’s gone." He shrugged, forcing indifference into his voice. "Guess I’ll just have to move on, huh?"
Josephine gave him a pleased, knowing look. "Now that’s the Murphy I knew you could be."
Murphy just chuckled, hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around the small device hidden there.
The thing about conning a con?
You just had to be better at the game.
And Murphy had always been a damn good liar.
Murphy was never one to admit when he was out of his depth. And when it came to Josephine, he was about as far out as he could get. But there was something about you- about seeing that flicker of life in your eyes- that lit a fire inside him. He wasn’t going to let Josephine- or anyone- win.
After what felt like a lifetime of quiet conversations and planning in the shadows, Murphy found himself standing in the heart of the compound, mind buzzing with the possibilities.
Emori, bless her, had managed to hack into Josephine’s system, and with the right timing, they could reverse the switch, keep Josephine from fully taking control of you, and maybe- just maybe- pull you back.
It wasn’t foolproof. Hell, it was risky as hell. But it was something. And it was their only shot.
Murphy moved quickly, methodically, through the dimly lit hallways of the compound, his footsteps quick but quiet. He was alone now- everyone else was in position, keeping Josephine distracted long enough to make the switch. He could feel the weight of the plan pressing down on him, but it was nothing compared to the weight of you- your presence, still lingering in his mind, reminding him that this had to work.
He reached the central console, his fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease. It had taken hours to find the code he needed, but now that it was in his hands, he had no intention of letting it slip away. Each keystroke felt like a countdown, the seconds ticking by as he hacked into Josephine’s system, carving out the path to release you.
"Come on, baby," he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as the screen flickered. "Just a little longer."
His fingers hovered over the final command, eyes scanning the code for any flaws. He had to get this right. Any mistake, and you’d be lost to Josephine’s control forever. He couldn’t afford that.
Suddenly, a noise echoed down the hallway, a soft footfall that made Murphy freeze in place. His heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to stay calm. Josephine had a way of sneaking up on people, but he couldn’t afford to let her see him sweat.
He quickly glanced at the monitor- everything was still running, but there was no time to waste. He hit the final command.
A hum of electricity filled the air as the system processed the command, and for a moment, Murphy thought he’d failed. But then- the screen blinked green. The transfer was complete.
His breath left him in a rush, but there was no time to celebrate. The sound of footsteps was getting louder.
Murphy bolted from the console, making his way to the control room door, where Emori was waiting with wide eyes. "It worked," he said, his voice low.
Emori nodded, her face lighting up with relief. "It’s working. She’s losing control. You have to move quickly."
Without another word, Murphy shoved open the door and sprinted down the hall. The plan was still in motion, and Josephine wasn’t going to give up without a fight. He could hear her voice in his head already, mocking him for thinking he could win, for thinking he could save you.
But Murphy didn’t care. He wasn’t backing down. Not this time.
He finally reached the holding room where you were kept, and there, through the thick glass, he saw Josephine- your body- standing by the control panel, her back turned as she tried to adjust the settings.
"Y/N!" Murphy’s voice cracked the silence, and for the first time, Josephine- you- turned to face him.
For a split second, the world stopped. There was nothing but the look in your eyes- the way they softened just enough for him to catch the flicker of recognition.
“Murphy?” you whispered, voice cracking, and his heart skipped a beat.
Josephine’s grip on your body was slipping, but it wasn’t gone yet. The fight still raged within you, and he could see it in the way you clenched your fists.
It wasn’t too late.
With the slightest motion, Murphy made his way toward you, desperate but calm. "You’re in there, I know it. Hang on, just hang on."
He moved quickly, slamming his shoulder into the door to break it open. The glass shattered, and he stepped through, careful not to let his movements make too much noise. The last thing he needed was Josephine regaining full control now.
"You remember me, right?" he said, reaching out to gently brush a strand of your hair from your face. He knew this was a delicate moment, a fragile one, where any misstep could send everything crashing down.
For a moment, it looked like you were still fighting, like Josephine was still trying to gain dominance over your body, but then your eyes met his.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice rough. "I’m not leaving you again."
You nodded, but it was barely a gesture- you were still in there, still fighting for control, and he knew that Josephine’s grip was slipping. He just had to hold on long enough.
Murphy reached into his pocket and pulled out the device Emori had given him- a small, portable EMP device, a last-ditch effort to sever Josephine’s connection. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.
With one last glance at you, he pushed the button.
The room flashed with white light, and the world around them shifted. For a moment, everything went silent. The air was thick with tension, but then, with a gasp, you blinked, and your eyes- your eyes- focused on him.
"Murphy...?"
And just like that, the fight was over. Josephine had lost. The world had shifted back into place, and he was holding you again, this time in full control.
He didn’t have the words. Not yet. All he could do was pull you close, his breath shaky, his heart pounding in his chest.
"You’re safe," he murmured against your hair. "You’re safe now."
And this time, he knew he’d never let you go.
The room felt oddly still, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound around them. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving a raw vulnerability in its wake. John Murphy sat on the edge of the cot in the makeshift safe house, his fingers still trembling slightly as he wiped his hand across his face. He had just pulled you from the brink, but it felt as though his own emotions were just starting to unravel.
You sat next to him, still trying to gather your bearings, the reality of everything sinking in. Your mind was hazy from the chaos, but your gaze kept flicking to Murphy. He had saved you, but there was something in the air now. The weight of the silence between you felt heavier than ever.
Finally, Murphy broke the silence, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.
“You know… I didn’t think I’d get you back.” His words were almost like an apology, a confession of his own fear. He didn't look at you when he spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor between his boots, his hands resting heavily on his knees.
You leaned closer, wanting to speak, but your throat was dry from everything that had just transpired. You’d been through hell, and now, you found yourself just trying to piece everything together, including what had happened between the two of you.
“I never thought I’d be enough for you,” Murphy continued, his voice cracking just a little. "I mean, look at me. I’m a mess, I always have been. And you… you’re everything I’m not. You’re strong, you’re capable, you’ve always known what you want. And me? I’ve just... I’ve never been able to make sense of it. I didn’t think I deserved someone like you.”
You felt the words hit you harder than you’d expected, the truth hanging in the air between you two. All this time, you thought he was pulling away because of the chaos, because of the fight. But hearing him say it aloud- his own self-doubt, his insecurities- it left you speechless.
Murphy looked up at you then, his blue eyes darker now, like they’d absorbed every part of his struggle. “I’ve been waiting, Y/N… waiting for some sign that I wasn’t just wasting my time. That maybe, just maybe, you could feel what I’ve been feeling all these years.”
Your heart clenched, the weight of his confession sinking in. Years. He’d been carrying this around for years? The same years you had silently pined for him, hoping one day he might look at you the way you’d always looked at him. You’d been waiting, too. But you’d never known- never known the depth of his feelings.
Without thinking, you placed your hand gently over his, your fingers brushing against his. He didn’t pull away, and that alone made your chest tighten.
“You never had to be perfect, John,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always seen you, even when you didn’t see me. You never needed to be some ideal version of yourself. I’ve been waiting for you, too. I just-” You cut yourself off, uncertain of how to express everything you felt in the wake of his confession.
Murphy’s lips quirked into a crooked smile, the tension in his face easing just a little. "I didn’t think you’d ever say that," he admitted, his voice low and rough, like he wasn’t sure whether he believed you.
You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what you’d wanted to for so long. “I’m not going anywhere, John. Not now. Not ever.”
He looked at you, the vulnerability in his gaze no longer masked by sarcasm or walls. There was no bravado now, only him. A man who had spent years fighting against his own feelings, pushing them down, afraid of what would happen if he let them free.
“I thought I had time,” he muttered, shaking his head in frustration. “Thought maybe we’d get it right someday. But you-” His voice faltered slightly as he searched your eyes for something, “-you’re the only one who’s ever been patient with me. And now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
You smiled softly, the weight of everything they had endured finally lifting from your chest. You took a step closer, your hand still resting in his. “You don’t have to figure it all out now. But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, it was just the two of you in the quiet, a shared understanding settling between the silence. No more words needed to be spoken, not yet.
Murphy’s hand tightened around yours, and he leaned his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, letting out all the exhaustion he had been holding back. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t some fairytale, and it wasn’t going to be easy. But it was real, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe- just maybe- he could let go of the past and let someone in.
And maybe, together, you could find a way to move forward.