Bellamy didn't have time for this. The thought sent a minor shockwave of guilt right through to his core, but it was true nonetheless. He had a job to do and shit to get done around the house. The faucet in the kitchen was still perpetually leaky and he had yet to figure out why. He was sick of living with the incessant drip-dripping of his water bill needlessly rising, but yet rather than using this blessed morsel of free time to tackle the issue that had been nagging at him for weeks, he was sat across from Octavia's balding algebra teacher discussing her falling grades.

He didn't give half a rat's ass about Octavia's grades. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have the time to help her or the willpower to force her to try any harder than she already did. He had always been a bit of a softie in that regard, allowing his younger sister to get away with anything, well, anything within the confines of the law, of course.

So no, he couldn't much be bothered to scold Octavia on her wavering D- in math. Hell, he was twenty-four years old and still wondering why the hell their mom had to go and die, effectively making it his responsibly to safeguard his sister's GPA. It was hard playing the part of a single father to his seventeen year-old sister. Damn near exhausting, at times. She was his rock and his world, but she could also be a handful; toting both the emotional damage of an orphan and the hyped-up drama of a high school girl, whilst hoping that he'd somehow have the tools to fix everything for her and right the crooked ground she currently stood upon.

But he couldn't. He couldn't fix her grades, or friendships, couldn't stop her from being bullied, or waking up with nightmares. It all left him feeling so very hollowed out and useless. She deserved more, something better than he would ever be able to offer her. He wanted to give her the universe, he truly did, but giving her a shabby roof over her head and thrift store blouses was already taxing enough, and he just didn't see how the galaxy and beyond could be worked into the equation.

He walked out into the hall of the aging high school with numb legs and the taste of defeat on his tongue. He didn't know what to say to Octavia. He didn't exactly think that telling her that she was fine and he couldn't care less about her grades, as long as she pulled through in the end and swung for a diploma, would be the best thing for him to do. Even if his words would have been comforting and rung true. He should encourage her to try harder, telling her that he knew that she was brilliant and capable of doing so much better, but he couldn't say that either. It would just seem forced and she would know that he was trying too hard, doing what he thought he ought to rather than what he wanted to.

So the dim lights buzzed above their heads and they strolled towards the exit in a state of nearly tangible silence.

"Dammit, Murphy! You little piece of shit!"

The words easily penetrated the unease between his sister and him, as they both glanced about the hallway, searching in vain for the source of the racket. A smirk was growing on Octavia's lips and he could tell that her mood was lightening now, if only a little. It was a bit odd that a random verbal assault in the hallway was the cause of her mirth, but he'd gladly take it. Whatever got her grinning like that was fine in his book. At least, that was until the verbal assault clearly evolved into more and a sudden pounding sound reverberated through the sparse halls, and a grunt of pain quickly followed after it.

"Why the hell would you post that fucking picture?"

Another pounding sound. Another grunt. "Because you looked great in it? I think that it really captured just how shitty you..." The sound of lockers rattling flooded Bellamy's ears now, and the grunts dissolved into labored groans. Octavia's lips were still on the rise, but he had, quite frankly, had enough. It was his job to protect people, it was what he had always wanted to do, set out to do, and even if he felt like he did a pretty poor job of it most of the time, he still couldn't understand why it was that he was just standing around listening to a kid clearly getting the crap beat out of him just a few hallway turns away. He quickened his pace, allowing Octavia to fall back behind him until he felt her small yet firm fingers wrap around his wrist and freeze his step.

She smiled at him, laughing a little as she shook her head. "Bell, stop, this is gold."

Gold? "What the hell is that supposed to mean, O?" he questioned, trying his best to voice his disapproval. He wasn't raising his sister to be the sort of person who found schoolyard tussles to be a source of entertainment and enjoyment.

"That guy? Murphy. He really is a piece of shit, he deserves this, trust me."

"What did he do?" Bellamy questioned, his voice dropping to a decibel worthy of the conspiring whispers of high school gossip.

"I dunno what he did this time, but he's trash who's had this coming for a long time. Everyone hates him, Dax is doing us all a favor."

Bellamy nervously licked his lips and slowly, but decisively, shook his head. "No, O, I can't just let some kid get beat up because you don't like him."

Octavia rolled her eyes and softly kicked at the tiled floor with the heel of her boot, like a child who wasn't being given what she wanted. "Mr. High and Mighty riding the morals train."

Bellamy didn't even want to try to riddle out whatever the hell she was trying to say. He shook his arm free of her hand and continued jogging down the hallway until the scene he had been eavesdropping on for nearly five minutes was finally playing out in front of him in full color.

There was a scrawny looking brunette boy being pinned against the wall of lockers by a domineering forearm being pushed against his chest. He had blood spurting out of his nose, crudely reminding Bellamy of his broken faucet, and there were abrasive cuts along his jaw and cheeks. One of his eyes also appeared to be a bit on the puffy side, but from the distance at which Bellamy was standing, he couldn't be quite sure.

His assailant, Dan, or whatever Octavia had called him, was leering over him with joyful retribution in his eyes and a rising fist. "Hey, stop!" Bellamy yelled out, rushing the remainder of the hallway until he was close enough to grab aforementioned fist and force it back down to drape at the boy's side. Dave seemed to be startled by the sudden appearance of an unknown adult, and he quickly took a step backwards, as though by doing so he could wash his hands of the blood caking to them and take on the image of perfect innocence.

Once released, Murphy stumbled away from the wall behind him and met Bellamy's gaze with downturned lips and narrowed eyes. Bellamy had to give Octavia credit where credit was due, he hadn't yet gotten the thanks he felt that he was most certainly owed, and was fast beginning to think that she had been right about this guy being a prick.

Both of the teenagers continued to regard him with silent disapproval and it slowly dawned on him that they were waiting for him to be the one to cut through the tension. Being a police officer who dealt with troubled kids very nearly on the daily, Bellamy knew that he should have something cool to say, some readily-available sensational speech that would convince the two boys to shake hands and swear to a life of peace and love, but instead, the best that he could think to say was, "I'm a cop, come with me," as he tugged on the sleeve of Murphy's jacket. He felt like an inarticulate idiot, and it didn't help that he completely ignored Dane's presence. It wasn't his duty to stop the feud between them and bring tranquility to Murphy's life, though. All he wanted to do was stop the geyser of blood coming out of his nose and prove some sort of point to his sister about forgiveness or some crap.

He found Octavia staring at him from a few paces down the hallway with bored eyes and pursed lips. "Murphy," she mumbled, icily, as her eyes moved down to meet his. "My idiot brother here wouldn't listen to me when I told him that he should let Dax wring your neck."

"What a crying shame," Murphy mumbled, pressing the back of his hand to his nose and wincing as it rapidly became stained with red.

"Octavia, could you maybe, not?" Bellamy whispered, doing the best mockery of a parental glare that he could muster. "Just play nice for five seconds and tell me where the nurse's office is."

"It's after hours, the nurse isn't here. Looks like Murphy will just have to bleed out. Oh well."

Murphy grinned at her even as a flood of bright fury reached his eyes. "Real cute, Blake. Nice to know you care."

"About your death? Oh, I definitely care. Trust me, I'd bury you with bells on."

"Wait, am I the one wearing the bells or are you, because I just..."

"Hey, both of you, shut up." Bellamy still hadn't released Murphy's jacket, and he had no intention of doing so as he began to stroll back down the hallway, this time headed towards the front doors. Octavia followed after them, having no real choice in the matter.

Before he knew it, the three of them were seated in his junk heap of a Honda and Murphy was dripping blood onto his back seat. "If I take you home can your parents get you fixed up?" he questioned, glancing back at Murphy with an expression of what he thought to be a mix of pity and pure annoyance.

Murphy glanced up at him before his eyes guiltily flickered back down to the new splatters of red decorating Bellamy's car. He wordlessly shrugged his shoulders.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Bellamy asked, his tone harsh as his annoyance speedily outweighed any semblance of pity he might hold for the kid.

"I mean I live alone and don't really have any Band-Aids and shit, but I can figure something out, it's not as bad as it looks."

"I think your nose is broken."

"Bell, I've got algebra homework and if I don't go home and do it right now my grades going to tank even more, can't you just dump Murphy at his house and get on with it?"

Bellamy had never known his sister to be so eager to get her homework done, and though he really wished that he could have faith in her newfound zest for education, but he simply called bullshit. "O, come on...okay, fine. Murphy, you come back to our house and I'll do my best to patch you up, then I'll give you a ride home. Octavia, you can get started on your algebra."

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest in the passenger seat next to him with an irritated huff of her breath. She was clearly still bothered by Murphy's presence but had given up on trying to talk sense into her brother. Whatever, she could pout all she wanted to as long as she sucked it up and let Bellamy tend to the bleeding delinquent. "Fine, but if he steals anything while he's at our house, don't say I didn't warn you, Bell."

Murphy didn't say anything in response, which did serve to make Bellamy more than a little bit on edge. Finally after he set the car in motion and they were halfway back to the Blake house, the silence in the car had become just a tad too suffocating and Bellamy thought it more than necessary that he put a stop to it. "So, what was that guy's beef with you?"

Murphy's hands were still crimson red and cupped over his nose, obviously trying to keep Bellamy's car from becoming even more of a blood bath than it already was. He snickered and shrugged his shoulders. "He's an asshole."

"Right, he's the asshole," Octavia muttered, glaring over her shoulder at him.

"He is. All I did was post a picture of him with his tongue down Roma's throat. His girlfriend, Fox, saw it and kicked his ass to the curb. It was awesome, but you know, I don't think he thought it was quite as awesome as I did."

Bellamy glanced away from the road for a moment to meet his blue eyes, his eyebrows arching with intrigue. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Fox deserved to know."

"Are you seriously trying to say that you did it for Fox's benefit?" Octavia questioned, a dubious expression of disbelief shifting over her features.

"Well, that and because I wanted to watch Dax suffer."

"Naturally."

"But you've got to give me this one, Blake, it's not like I was really the one in the wrong here."

"Maybe not, but there's been plenty of cases where you were."

"Goggles?"

"For example, yes."

Murphy sighed, and shifted his shoulders back in a clear show of discomfort. "Okay, I'm sorry. You've gotta admit he is a bit of a whiny bitch, though."

"Jasper's my friend, I'm not going to talk shit about him with you. Especially not after what you said to him."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"No. I'm not. Can't stand that kid."

Bellamy kept silent, content to eavesdrop on the conversation, having nothing to add to it, himself. He did know Jasper, he'd come around to their house a few times. He seemed like a nice guy, the sort of guy that he was okay with Octavia hanging around with. But, he hadn't a clue what had transpired between him and Murphy, so it really wasn't his place to comment on it.

"I know. You can't stand him because he's actually a decent human being and you're jealous that you lost your shot at being one a long time ago."

"Oh, Blake, please, you do wound me so. However will I go on?"

"Shut up. And stop calling me Blake, John."

Bellamy watched from the side view mirror as Murphy shot his sister a death glare before the words, "Don't you fucking dare call me that," spilt from his lips like acid.

As they pulled into the driveway, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he had made a bad decision in allowing this mess of a kid with vibrantly apparent anger issues to come to their house. "It's your name, isn't it?" Octavia asked, flashing him a triumphant grin.

"Octavia," Bellamy whispered, setting a hand down on her lap as he tried to get her to quiet down. He obviously couldn't appeal to Murphy to calm down before they made their way into the house, but he could try to get his sister to stop baiting him. "Come on, let's just go inside."

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him before puffing out another flippant breath and opening the door next to her, stepping out quickly and slamming it behind her. He was left in the car with just Murphy for one brief, awkward moment, until he made his way out of the car, too.

He unlocked the front door and held it open for the both of the teenagers, Octavia walking through first and Murphy hanging back on the porch for a moment, hesitancy shinning in his eyes even as his blood dripped down onto the concrete. Bellamy motioned for him to come inside, and he finally nodded and did just that.

He glanced around the house with anxiety spilling over his features. "I don't...want to get blood anywhere."

"Right," Bellamy said with a nod of his head. "Just stand there and I'll get something to stop the bleeding."

Octavia disappeared upstairs, shutting her bedroom door behind her, as Bellamy rushed into the bathroom to grab cotton pads, Band-Aids, ointments, Tylenol, and whatever the hell else he thought might be of use. He hurried back to find Murphy staring at the framed pictures lining the wall next to the front door. Their mother had framed them, Bellamy had hung them, and life hadn't been perfect but it had been so much closer to it than it was now. He wished he could step back into those framed memories more than anything. Back to the simpler times when he was just a cadet getting ready to move out on his own and make his way in the world.

"Your mom dead?" Murphy posed the question with such a callously casual tone that had his nose not already been broken, Bellamy might've been inclined to make it so. He grit his teeth and stiffly nodded his head. Murphy nodded back at him, frowning slightly before he asked, "Dad?"

"Never met 'im. And Octavia's left before she was born. Now come on and let me fix your nose."

Murphy fell silent, finally getting the hint that Bellamy wasn't in the mood to discuss his broken family with his sister's apparent arch nemesis. It didn't take long for him to stop the steady stream of blood and scrub his face clean. Murphy didn't show any outward indications of pain throughout the process, but it was evident in his glistening eyes and impatient acceptance of the pain pills Bellamy offered him.

Eventually Murphy was sitting at his dining table, medical supplies lying about haphazardly atop it, and Bellamy was sitting across from him, sighing as he steeled himself to hop back into the Honda and give the ungrateful bastard a ride home.

"Thanks."

The whispered word took Bellamy off-guard, and he couldn't help but smile a bit as he nodded his head and capped the lip over the Tylenol. "Welcome."

At that moment Octavia strolled back down the stairs, clothed in her makeshift pajamas of short-shorts and a tank. Her eyes widened comically as they landed on Murphy before they angrily snapped to meet her brother's. "He's still here!? For real?"

"Hasn't been that long, O."

"Been long enough."

Bellamy couldn't help it, he was curious. The question had been nagging at him for an hour, and he finally couldn't keep from asking it any longer. "Why do you hate him?"

Murphy tilted his head to the side, grinning at Bellamy as a soft burst of laughter escaped his lips. "Yeah, Blake, why do you hate me? What could I possibly have done?"

Octavia rolled her eyes as she slowly strolled over to the table. "Well first off, he threatened to kill Jasper, so that was nice."

"The guy wouldn't shut up. Like, okay, you have a broken arm, good for you. No one gives a shit, stop whining about it."

Bellamy snickered, remembering that time. Jasper had tried skateboarding while he was high on who knows what. It hadn't ended well. He couldn't really even blame Murphy. Every time Octavia had brought him over during the period that his arm was enclosed by a cast, there had been some mention made of how painful broken bones were, enough mention to give him a headache, actually.

"Bell! What the hell, why are you grinning about this?" Octavia yelled, disapprovingly.

Bellamy shrugged. "Jasper really was super obnoxious about his arm, O."

"You're a cop, Bellamy! You're not supposed to laugh about death threats!"

"Right, because I'm sure Murphy was really considering killing him."

"Oh, I was."

Bellamy tried, he really did, but despite his best efforts, he burst out laughing.

"Bell! What the hell!? Why are you bonding with him!? Stop it!"

"Come on, O. You're going to have to give me a better reason for hating him."

"Well he..." Octavia started, before her eyes nervously met Murphy's. Resolve spilled over her expression and she cockily stated, "He also once called me a spoiled bitch weirdo and then proceeded to come on to me."

Bellamy's eyebrows rose and he shifted in his chair to meet Murphy's eyes. Murphy's grin faltered a bit and his hand came up to his nose before he seemed to think better of touching it and dropped his hand back down to his lap. "In my defense, I think she has the order of those events wrong."

"Wow, so you called my little sister a spoiled bitch weirdo and you came on to her?"

"In my defense, I come on to everyone."

"Bullying Jasper is one thing, but you do not mess with my sister," Bellamy growled, his tone taking on a slightly threatening edge.

"Noted. Very much noted."

"Shut up and stand up. I'm taking you home."

Murphy licked his bottom lip, his eyes flickering down to the wood of the table. "Okay." He stood up quickly and dashed outside before Bellamy even had the chance to take a step towards the door.

"I'm sorry about bringing him over her, O. I shouldn't have."

Octavia shrugged her shoulders, her lips tugging upwards slightly. "Nice to see that you're acknowledging you were wrong. Next time listen to me. I'm a good judge of character, and Murphy has none."

Bellamy slowly bobbed his head up and down before he briefly pulled her into his arms and made his way to the front door, resting his hand down on the handle. "Be back soon."

"Okay, see you, Bell!" Octavia called back, waving at him as he opened the door and stepped outside.

Murphy was already sitting shotgun in the car. Bellamy could've sworn he locked it, but he didn't pay it much thought and simply took his place in the driver's seat. "Where do you live?"

"Bluff Ave," Murphy mumbled, settling back in his seat and gazing out the window next to him.

"Shit, you mean those apartments, North Commons?"

"Yes."

"Shit, Murphy. That place is...the amount of times I've had to respond to a call from there. Damn."

"I work at a fucking amusement park, what the hell do you want from me?"

Bellamy nibbled at his lip and set his hands down on the steering wheel, backing out of the driveway as an uneasy quiet filled the space between them. He had been mad at Murphy for the shit he'd said to Octavia, he really had been, but that didn't mean that he thought the kid deserved to live in a dangerous, addict-ridden hellhole. "Where are your parents?" he asked bluntly, not feeling too guilty about the question, because Murphy had interrogated him over the very same topic, after all.

"Pretty damn dead."

He wasn't sure why that wasn't the answer that he had been expecting. He'd just thought that Murphy seemed like the sort of kid who had thrown some sort of tantrum and moved away from his parents the second he turned eighteen just for the pure joy of rebellion and the idealistic notion of freedom. "How long have you lived alone?"

"I was in foster until a few months ago. Trust me, squandering in a cockroach infested drug den is better than most of the foster homes I stayed at."

Bellamy didn't even know how to respond to that. Sure he was an orphan too, so he could understand that much, but he hadn't lost his mother until he was already an adult, capable of taking care of himself with moderate ease. And sure Octavia had been orphaned at an earlier age than he had, but she'd always had him, and while Bellamy often didn't feel like he was enough, he was still more than Murphy had. Octavia had always had him and he'd always had her and it was impossible for him to imagine what it felt like to have no one. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Murphy snickered and casually shrugged his shoulders. "I don't need your pity. And I didn't need you to rescue me today, I was fine."

"Sure you were."

"I was." Murphy sighed and ran his now blood-free hands through his greasy, overgrown hair. "But, listen, Blake, I didn't mean any harm to your sister. She just...I've always thought that she was from a different world of Malibu Barbies and picket fences and that pissed me off, so I've been an asshole to her. I didn't know that she had lost her parents too, or I wouldn't have..."

"It's fine, Murphy. I get it. Just...you know, be nice to her now that you know."

"I mean, I'll give it my best approximation of kindness, but I've gotta warn you that it's not all that close to the real thing."

Bellamy smiled over at him and curled his fingers tighter around the wheel. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. You don't seem all that bad."

Murphy smiled back at him, his cheeks tinging a pale shade of red. Bellamy wondered when the last time the kid had been told that he was anything more than worthless was. If even his sister, his sweet little sister had told Murphy that he was a less than decent human being, then Bellamy couldn't imagine that there were many people, if any, who regarded him with anything but disgust.

It didn't take long before Murphy's apartment building came into view. Bellamy really was quite familiar with it. From drug busts to domestic abuse, it simply wasn't the sort of place that a teenage boy should be living all alone. He almost couldn't bear to pull into its parking lot knowing that once he did, he would have to hand Murphy back over to his regularly scheduled shit-show of a life and try to forget that he had ever met him. Because Murphy wasn't his problem. It was as simple as that. He had helped him as best he could, and whatever happened to him from here wasn't any of his concern. Octavia was his only concern; Octavia had always been his only concern.

He put the car in park and waited for Murphy to get out.

Murphy pulled the passenger door open and shifted in his seat so that his feet dropped down onto the gravel beneath them. "Wait." Bellamy had tried to lock the word between his lips, but it broke through despite him.

Murphy froze and glanced back over his shoulder at him, curiosity in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Can I give you my phone number? I just...don't feel right about leaving you here. This place gives me the creeps, and I'd feel better knowing that you can give me a call if you ever need anything."

Murphy's eyebrows rose with surprise and he grinned at Bellamy, his teeth shining through and everything. He nodded his head and dug into his pocket before pushing his cell phone into Bellamy's hand. "I can take care of myself, but whatever floats your boat, Blake."

"I just set my contact as Bellamy, so you'd better start calling me that."

Murphy stared down at his cell phone as Bellamy placed it back into his waiting hand with an inscrutable intensity in his gaze. "I don't think I'll be calling you much of anything," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Thanks. Really. 'Preciate it."

And then he was gone. The door shutting behind him before Bellamy had the chance to utter another word. The car felt oddly empty as he watched Murphy climb up the staircase to his apartment, bypassing an aging smoker who shot him an uncomfortably lust-filled grin. Bellamy's heart was pounding quicker than it really should have, and he felt very nearly nauseous. But there was nothing he could do. He had already done more than he should have, he reasoned. So, he pulled out of the parking lot and wondered if Murphy would ever make use of the number he had given him. And even more than that, he wondered why it was that he really hoped that he would.

I've already written most of this fic, so updates should be fairly regular. Also heads up, the first half of this is mostly just angst and fluff, but the second half is much darker. Nothing too graphic, though. Anyway, follows and reviews are much appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!