[ They're all a little weird in this house even if Ronan has the crown. ]
I didn't mean you literally knocking my ass out. I figured you had - fuck - I don't know, fairy dust? You know like in The Wizard of Oz, when Dorthy strolls through the poppy fields? [ Yes, yes, someone read this to him when he was an innocent child. ] Something like that.
[ Murphy leans back, resting against the bedframe. ] It'll be a little bit before I go to sleep.
[ Ronan does, as a matter of fact, have something that will knock Murphy out immediately. But he wouldn't feel great about handing Murphy a pill that'll send him hurtling into sleep. This whole process is shady enough without the drugs.
Instead, he pulls his bottomless flask from his pocket and offers it up. ]
[ Murphy takes the flask with little hesitation. He does, however, stop to smell the contents inside the flask. The strong smell of alcohol stings his nose and he tries to shake it out. ]
Well hot damn, here we go. [ He takes a generous sip, maybe too big of one for someone who has never tasted whiskey before. The sting is stronger in his throat and it burns all the way down to his stomach, leaving a warm trail behind. Murphy grins through the burn, waits for it to settle before taking another sip. ] I don't like how it makes everything warm.
You'd know more than me. [ He assumes that the older version of himself liked whiskey so maybe he'd grow to like it, how whiskey leaves that distinct warmth in your body. ]
Are you just going to sit here and watch me until I go to sleep? At least turn into yourself, maybe turn into a comfortable pillow or something. [ Murphy teases, taking one last sip before pulling himself up onto his feet.
He wipes the corner of his mouth with a knuckle as he settles down onto his bed. It's early morning, nearly 4 o'clock and he could fall asleep easily now. ] Maybe sing me a song.
[ Oh, is Murphy joking? Because Ronan, in fact, has the voice of an angel, and nowhere near enough opportunity to show it off these days. Getting good and comfortable right where he is, he lifts his chin and immediately begins singing A Stór mo Chroí in the smoothest of timbres: ]
A stór mo chroí when you're far away From the home you will soon be leaving It's many's the time by night and by day When your heart will be sorely grieving...
[ It was a joke, Murphy was not being serious when he asked Ronan to sing to him so imagine his surprise when Ronan starts to sing. Murphy has a tender spot in his heart for music. He'd sing to himself most nights but not recently. He gets hit with a wave of emotions, it feels so physical and it makes his chest hurt.
Murphy wants to tell Ronan to shut up but his voice is so nice, so comforting and he hasn't been sung to it a really long while. Instead, he lays on his side, back facing Ronan because he would like to shed some tears without Ronan seeing.
So he closes his eyes, the corners wet with this tears and tries to go to sleep. ]
For the stranger's land may be bright and fair And rich in all treasures golden You'll pine, I know, for the long, long ago And the heart that is never olden...
[ The moment of Murphy's drifting into sleep, where reality ends and the dream begins, is a blurred passing. At some point, Ronan moves from the floor to the edge of the bed, leaning over Murphy to comb his hair back with soothing fingers.
He's home now. Murphy's home, whatever he wants home to look like. ]
[ Murphy keeps his eyes closed long enough that, eventually, sleep takes him. Sleeping soundly and at peace.
It's dark, his dream. A blank canvas before it spills into different hues of greens and browns. Things take shape, the ground, the grass, the trees, the light of the sun seeping through the branches. He's on the ground. All alone for now, the dropship open and in the background.
[ Ronan is still there, just beside Murphy, like he'd promised he'd be. He's tall enough that even on his knees beside the chair, he's about eye-to-eye with Murphy. His singing echoes through the trees, so that the song continues a moment or two after his lips have already stopped moving.
His fingers pause in their caress. He leans in to murmur in Murphy's ear: ]
[ Murphy's looking at the dropship expectantly, he's waiting for someone to come out. It's the familiar voice that lures his attention away, drifts right to where Ronan is crouched, besides that damn chair. ] We're here. [ Murphy confirms, taking slow steps toward Ronan.
Everything is so distinct and vivid, he can even smell the dirt and the grass. That distinct smell right after it rains. ] Am I doing all of this?
[ Ronan's on his feet suddenly, though the moment of his standing somehow went unnoticed. He raises his hands toward the canopy of the trees in a grand gesture. ]
A second later, or maybe it had vanished before now, the chair disappears. It's replaced by a gentle breeze and the branches sway soundlessly. Little things are changing if Murphy realizes it or not. Parts of the farmhouse start appearing, slowly building into the scene. ]
Welcome to the ground. [ He pauses when he steps next to Ronan - and now they're the same height. ]
[ If Ronan has noticed this change to his height, he doesn't comment on it. He merely looks around, mildly curious about the shifting of their surroundings. ]
[ A subtle change that not even Murphy, himself, notices. Sections of the Arch start to bleed into his dream and soon they are walking down a metal skeleton of a hallway. And, at the end, it leads up the stairs to their bedrooms. ] Not always. Does this happen? Things not making much sense? [ Noting the mismatch scene that he's been creating. ]
[ He asks because, well, most of the time Murphy forgets his dreams the moment he wakes up. Either that or his nightmares replay the same memories over and over again.
What he's experiencing right now, it's new. And it feels so real.
Somewhere, behind him, Murphy hears her calling for him. Groaning, a ghost lurking nearby. ]
[ What does safe look like? That's a very good question. Things around them flicker out of existence, statics when Murphy is trying to think of things that are safe.
Bellamy manifests, appears at his periphery. Bellamy is safe, Murphy thinks. Bellamy would make sure that Murphy's not hurt. It's a lie but Murphy doesn't know it just yet. ]
[ A story for another time. Murphy looks at Ronan sidelong, tipping his chin subtly in acknowledgment. ] What would happen if we did [ , Murphy asks purely out of curiosity as he approaches Bellamy. ]
Who else would I be [ , Bellamy speaks, even and casual. When Murphy is close enough to Bellamy, Murphy reaches out. Bellamy lets Murphy touch his face. ] It's me [ , Bellamy reassures Murphy. ]
[ Ronan, now, is more a voice in Murphy's ear than a solid presence. ]
And a wish. He's the Bellamy you think you know. The person you want him to be. But you'll never know all of him. We'd be making a copy from your perspective, not bringing him to you.
[ This is just a memory, the Bellamy that stands before him. Murphy scrutinizes the features of Bellamy's face, his gaze connecting dots with the freckles that pepper his face.
Bellamy collects Murphy just then, pulls him in and holds him close to his chest. This is what safe feels like. ]
I can't think of a place that's safe [ , Murphy murmurs. He's still in Bellamy's embrace. Just a few more seconds. He wants to remember this hug when he wakes up. A moment later, Bellamy is slipping away the moment Murphy slips him out of his thoughts. ]
What's safe to you? [ He turns to look for Ronan. ]
[ By virtue of Murphy's curiosity, the answer makes itself instantly known all around them. Rolling Appalachian pastures stretch around them, nearly identical to those found at the Meadows. But this is not the Meadows. This is the Barns, in Singer's Falls, outside of Henrietta - a town which no longer exists. This is Ronan's childhood home. The farmhouse sitting by the winding driveway is much more modest than the one at the Meadows, and scattered over the hills are the namesake barns in various states of disrepair. Despite the subtle aesthetic differences, the magic of the place is the same.
Ronan is sprawled out on the emerald grass a few feet away. ]
I could never leave.
[ Because they're one mind at the moment, Murphy immediately understands what he means by that: Before Lachesis dragged him out of his world altogether, Ronan was tied to the Barns. More specifically, tied to the ley line running through it. Wandering too far from it meant losing control over his power. Losing control over his power meant it was necessary to avoid using it altogether. And to avoid dreaming meant certain death. ]
It's not really safe. Nowhere is. But it's the safest, I guess.
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You don't want me knocking you out, man. Just go to sleep on your own and I'll meet you on the other side.
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I didn't mean you literally knocking my ass out. I figured you had - fuck - I don't know, fairy dust? You know like in The Wizard of Oz, when Dorthy strolls through the poppy fields? [ Yes, yes, someone read this to him when he was an innocent child. ] Something like that.
[ Murphy leans back, resting against the bedframe. ] It'll be a little bit before I go to sleep.
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Instead, he pulls his bottomless flask from his pocket and offers it up. ]
It's called whiskey.
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Well hot damn, here we go. [ He takes a generous sip, maybe too big of one for someone who has never tasted whiskey before. The sting is stronger in his throat and it burns all the way down to his stomach, leaving a warm trail behind. Murphy grins through the burn, waits for it to settle before taking another sip. ] I don't like how it makes everything warm.
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[ Ronan, at least, has found a great deal of comfort in liquor's warm embrace. ]
Close your eyes and you'll be out in no time.
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Are you just going to sit here and watch me until I go to sleep? At least turn into yourself, maybe turn into a comfortable pillow or something. [ Murphy teases, taking one last sip before pulling himself up onto his feet.
He wipes the corner of his mouth with a knuckle as he settles down onto his bed. It's early morning, nearly 4 o'clock and he could fall asleep easily now. ] Maybe sing me a song.
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A stór mo chroí when you're far away
From the home you will soon be leaving
It's many's the time by night and by day
When your heart will be sorely grieving...
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Murphy wants to tell Ronan to shut up but his voice is so nice, so comforting and he hasn't been sung to it a really long while. Instead, he lays on his side, back facing Ronan because he would like to shed some tears without Ronan seeing.
So he closes his eyes, the corners wet with this tears and tries to go to sleep. ]
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And rich in all treasures golden
You'll pine, I know, for the long, long ago
And the heart that is never olden...
[ The moment of Murphy's drifting into sleep, where reality ends and the dream begins, is a blurred passing. At some point, Ronan moves from the floor to the edge of the bed, leaning over Murphy to comb his hair back with soothing fingers.
He's home now. Murphy's home, whatever he wants home to look like. ]
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It's dark, his dream. A blank canvas before it spills into different hues of greens and browns. Things take shape, the ground, the grass, the trees, the light of the sun seeping through the branches. He's on the ground. All alone for now, the dropship open and in the background.
A rickety chair under a tree. ]
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His fingers pause in their caress. He leans in to murmur in Murphy's ear: ]
We're here.
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Everything is so distinct and vivid, he can even smell the dirt and the grass. That distinct smell right after it rains. ] Am I doing all of this?
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This whole world is yours. It answers to you.
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A second later, or maybe it had vanished before now, the chair disappears. It's replaced by a gentle breeze and the branches sway soundlessly. Little things are changing if Murphy realizes it or not. Parts of the farmhouse start appearing, slowly building into the scene. ]
Welcome to the ground. [ He pauses when he steps next to Ronan - and now they're the same height. ]
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Weren't we always on the ground?
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[ So... yes. ]
You can hold on to a place if you focus. If you want. There's no rush, if you just wanna fuck around in here for a while. You're safe with me.
[ Unlike the dangerous nightmares Ronan has by himself, with others he acts as a stabilizer. A psychopomp. ]
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What he's experiencing right now, it's new. And it feels so real.
Somewhere, behind him, Murphy hears her calling for him. Groaning, a ghost lurking nearby. ]
I'm trying. [ To focus, he means. ]
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Safe. What does safe look like?
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Bellamy manifests, appears at his periphery. Bellamy is safe, Murphy thinks. Bellamy would make sure that Murphy's not hurt. It's a lie but Murphy doesn't know it just yet. ]
Bellamy [ , Murphy murmurs. ]
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We can't bring him back with us. It won't be him.
[ Though there's no reason for Murphy to walk away immediately, if he needs this reunion. ]
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Who else would I be [ , Bellamy speaks, even and casual. When Murphy is close enough to Bellamy, Murphy reaches out. Bellamy lets Murphy touch his face. ] It's me [ , Bellamy reassures Murphy. ]
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[ Ronan, now, is more a voice in Murphy's ear than a solid presence. ]
And a wish. He's the Bellamy you think you know. The person you want him to be. But you'll never know all of him. We'd be making a copy from your perspective, not bringing him to you.
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Bellamy collects Murphy just then, pulls him in and holds him close to his chest. This is what safe feels like. ]
I can't think of a place that's safe [ , Murphy murmurs. He's still in Bellamy's embrace. Just a few more seconds. He wants to remember this hug when he wakes up. A moment later, Bellamy is slipping away the moment Murphy slips him out of his thoughts. ]
What's safe to you? [ He turns to look for Ronan. ]
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Ronan is sprawled out on the emerald grass a few feet away. ]
I could never leave.
[ Because they're one mind at the moment, Murphy immediately understands what he means by that: Before Lachesis dragged him out of his world altogether, Ronan was tied to the Barns. More specifically, tied to the ley line running through it. Wandering too far from it meant losing control over his power. Losing control over his power meant it was necessary to avoid using it altogether. And to avoid dreaming meant certain death. ]
It's not really safe. Nowhere is. But it's the safest, I guess.
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