epilogue
He wakes up before Bellamy does and packs his backpack. Clothes. Thermos. One of the tiny glass animals that Moss brings for him. Stuffs it under the bed. Goes down to meet with the healer.
She unwraps the sling from his body, asks him to do a range of movements with his wrist. It looks good. She cautions him to be careful with it, and releases him.
Bryan catches up to him when he goes down to the mess hall for breakfast. “Hey,” he says. “Got this for you. Recovered it from Arkadia, before we came here.”
It’s his gun. The weight of it is so familiar in his hands. It’s the gun he shot Roan and Ontari with. “Thanks,” he says, and tucks it into his waistband.
Bryan touches his shoulder. “You doing okay, Murphy?” he asks, tender, somehow.
“Got my sling off,” says Murphy, easy. “Made a full recovery.”
Bryan’s brow kind of crinkles, and Murphy knows that’s not what he means, but he leaves it alone. Murphy finishes his rice. He goes to see the Commander.
—
The Commander is in her chambers. Murphy has to give up his gun to Ruth to be allowed in, but he is allowed in. Lexa is bent over some open book, but she looks up as he comes in.
“I want to leave,” he tells her.
“What?” says Lexa, because. That’s kind of one of the basic tenants of being a lukotwar, that he only leaves on her terms.
He sighs real hard. “Just. For a little while. I deserve a vacation.”
Lexa allows him a nod. “Do you know where you’re going?” she asks.
He kind of shrugs. Away from here. “I have a —“ Swallows. “Friend to go with.”
Lexa’s mouth twitches. “Ah,” she says, like he’s given an explanation. “You can have your vacation, skaiskat. You will return at the end of spring, willingly, or there will be trouble.”
Relief. Washed over him, like being overwhelmed, except it’s good. Like a pressure has been taken away. “Roger that, Commander,” he says, and his voice is a little uneven.
Lexa raises her eyebrows. “What?” she asks.
He fights back rolling his eyes. “Yes, Commander,” he says instead, and in a fit of misplaced gratitude, “Thank you, Commander.”
“As always, lukotwar,” she returns. “You’re dismissed.”
Summer is a long time from now. Time enough.
—
Bellamy is gone when he retrieves his stored backpack, and he’s almost glad. It’s a conversation he won’t have to have. Something he won’t have to face.
Puts his gun in the backpack, too, underneath the clothes. Doesn’t talk to anybody else before he goes to Wildekru’s market.
Emori is underneath the canopy of one of the larger stalls. “You came,” she says, and she is — She is all sunshine-smile and the promise of an open road.
“I told you I would,” he says, trying to be clever but he just feels giddy, and he leans in and he kisses her before he can think about it, and she’s —
She’s all the home that Polis will never be. She’s what he gets up for, every day. She is his one good thing.
And she laughs at him, and she’s relieved too. “You wanna get out of here?” she asks.
She is perfect. She is flawed. She has some secret history that he might never get to know. He loves her. “Yeah,” he says, and he takes her hand in his.
She presses a chaste kiss to his forehead, and leads him out into the forest. To the open road. To freedom.
He doesn’t look back.