The wreckage area where Murphy was working was dim and irrevocably cold, and he grumbled a few curses before digging through yet another pile of debris.

So he wasn't detained for his crime, (though Ryan did get some stitches and a serious concussion), but he was assigned to clean up crew, which sucked for a multitude of reasons. A few being that it was cold, the other workers were assholes, and there were no surprise visits from Grey, which he found himself missing more than he'd like to.

He was grazing his fingers over piles of papers and binders splayed out on the metal floor when something smooth and blue caught his eye. It was dark, like the color of the ocean when you look at it from outer space, and it was quite small and had no title or decoration.

It was a book Murphy realized. He opened it and nearly shouted in excitement when he read the first page, but instead he coughed and shoved the thing into the front of his pants before anyone could notice.

It was a miracle, or fate, or an act of God if there was one. It was the kind of thing that revitalized parts of Murphy that had fallen away, letting him know there was more to life then just surviving. It was something that made Murphy laugh because shit like this doesn't happen to guys like him. He couldn't help but whistle for the rest of his shift.

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There was an unfamiliar bounce in his step as Murphy headed towards Grey's door. It was pretty late, he had to work past mealtime which sucked, but at least he had a this tiny blue book that in Murphy's mind equivocated the Bible.

"Hey Grey I-" Murphy paused midsentence as he opened the door because the usual hums of Grey were nowhere to be heard. She must not have been back from work yet. Rather than going across the hall Murphy lingered in Grey's room. Her bed sheets were partially on the floor and the whole room seemed to be a mess besides her few articles of clothing stacked neatly on her desk. She had grounder made candles littering her desk and floor, and her knife was thrown haphazardly on her bed. Murphy took a seat on the unmade covers, and admired the delicate charcoal cursive covering the walls.

"Knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven."

"It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn."

"Daily Log: what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck." –Murphy laughed, then read on, "Everything is so lovely and so treacherous all at once. Just like him. What the fuck."

Murphy stared at the words for a while; they were clearly Grey's own thoughts rather than a quote from Shakespeare or Brontë. But what did they mean? Who was the he?

The sound of footsteps disturbed Murphy from his thoughts, and he heard a smooth voice echoing down the hall.

"Oh give me land lots of land, and starry skies above, don't fence me in!" The voice could only have been Grey.

"Let me ride through the wide-open country that I love, don't fence me in," the singing grew closer and Murphy sat up in the bed expectantly.

"Let me be by my- Oh!" Grey stood in the doorway, "Out of the way Murph." The girl groaned and collapsed on the bed, just inches away from her freshly sharpened knife.

"Being Head Manager is pretty shitty I'm assuming," Murphy said, smirking down Grey.

"Are you kidding?" He could hear her smiling through the pillows, "I got to fire Ryan. It was better than Christmas."

"You should've told me so I could've watch."

Grey laughed, while simultaneously throwing her knife across the room.

"It's pretty great though, being in charge," she went on, "Ya know, I'm the youngest Head Manager ever."

"Yeah, who did you sleep with to land that job," Murphy mocked. Grey slapped him, with minimal force, thankfully.

"Ugh," he groaned, holding his cheek, "Fucking bitch."

"Asshole," Grey replied, "So why are you in my bed? Barging into rooms is usually my thing."

"I… well," Murphy stammered, "I got something you might like."

"Really?" asked Grey, sounding genuinely shocked, "I did too actually," Grey said to Murphy's surprise. She pulled out a whistle, carved from deer antler and attached to a leather cord. Murphy traced his fingers over the thing curiously before bringing it to his lips.

"Don't blow it! Seriously, I don't think I made it right," Grey advised.

"Oh you made it," Murphy remembered seeing her weeks ago whittling an antler, "No wonder it's so…"

Grey raised her eyebrows, displaying her classic glare.

"Great.. It's great," Murphy corrected himself after a short pause. He looked down at the handmade whistle and laughed, "Why though?" he asked, "You don't owe me anything."

"Do you have to owe someone to do something nice for them?" Grey retorted.

"Guess not," Murphy said while pulling out the blue book and handing it to Grey. She looked down at it, stunned, turning it over in her hands as if testing to see if it was real.

"What-?"

"Open it," Murphy insisted.

Her face lit up immediately, and she looked from the book to Murphy, her eyes glowing and watery.

"Where did you find this?" She asked, skimming the pages with her finger.

"In debris, at clean up crew," Murphy explained, smirking at the look of utter disbelief on his friend's face.

"I can't believe this," Grey stammered, "How did you-?"

She exhaled and grinned at Murphy, then wrapped her arms around him like she did at the Christmas party.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," Murphy replied into her wavy hair, which smelled like smoke and pine trees.

It was a book of Shakespearean sonnets, and the fact that Murphy found it assured him that the universe didn't completely have it in for him. Grey sat with the book propped up on her knee, milking through each verse, while Murphy lay back on her bed and listened to her read.

Murphy didn't feel like he was on the ground, or even in space. He was some place pure, unscathed by pain or fear. Maybe it was heaven. It reminded him of when his Dad used to bring him books and read to him, answering all of Murphy's naive questions happily.

It was the first time Murphy thought about his father and smiled.

"Your turn," Grey yawned, handing Murphy the book, "I'm tired."

Grey stood up from the bed and Murphy watched curiously as she held up her new, and extremely oversized tee shirt.

"You're more of a perv than Ryan," Grey smirked, and Murphy grumbled something and turned his attention back to the book. He let his eyes wander as he mumbled a poem,admiring the arch of Grey's back before it disappeared under her shirt. He turned away again as she undid her pants because he wasn't that much of a perv. Grey collapsed back on the bed, wearing her shirt like a dress, and began humming so loudly it was bordering on obnoxious.

"Either shut the fuck up or read it yourself," Murphy glared down at Grey, who was idly twirling her hair.

"Jesus Murph, I just have this song stuck in my head!"

Murphy rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to hear it?" Grey asked playfully, Murphy knowing fully well that his answer would not change the outcome.

"Not really-"

"You'll like it, okay-"

I wanna ride to the ridge where the west commences

And gaze at the moon 'til I loose my senses

I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in.

Her voice was full of breath and although it sounded nothing like the voices Murphy had heard, he still thought her voice was beautiful in a raw sort of way. Her sound was genuine, singing through the lyrics like they held some higher meaning. To John Murphy they truly did.

"Are you okay?" Grey asked, she was facing Murphy, sitting cross legged, "You've been staring at my for awhile."

"Yeah-um… you're not that bad," he paused to look up at her, "Where did you even learn something like that."

"I've just always known it," she shrugged, "My sister Charlie used to sing to us all the time, and who knows where she heard it from."

"It's kind of sad though," Grey sighed, laying back down, "The song is about being free and not being trapped, but look at us, we can't do anything. Were surrounded by a giant fence right now."

Murphy sighed and turned his head to look at Grey. They were lying side by side, and from this angle he could see all the details of her features, the freckles speckling her cheekbones, the cracks on her lips.

A peculiar feeling dawned on him then, but he shook it away faster than it rose into his mind.

"The fence isn't meant to hold us in," Murphy inhaled, "We'd probably be dead without it. And it's not like were trapped here."

"You've been outside?" Grey rolled over so Murphy could see the intensity in her eyes.

Murphy chuckled and shook his head, as if the world around them was just dull scenery, as if it wasn't the slightest bit interesting.

What he actually meant was that the world was more horrifying than anything else.

Grey realized the naivety of her comment and rolled back over with a sigh. After a quiet moment she proclaimed dreamily, "I went outside once."

"And you're still alive?" Murphy huffed sarcastically, "That's a first."

Grey laughed but on the inside she the same thought kept repeating itself like a song- Only if he knew, only if he knew…

"It was the most enchanting thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Probably the only enchanting thing you've ever seen in your life," Murphy commented, making Grey laugh in agreement.

"Besides moonshine of course," Grey added.

That time Murphy laughed genuinely, and suddenly wondered how he got to smiling in some girl's bed. As if the whole world didn't hate him, as if the whole world almost cared.

"How'd you get out anyway?" Murphy asked through his thoughts.

"I was helping someone who needed it," she said rather vaguely, "Can you finish Who is Sylvia? I like that one," Grey was clearly changing the topic, but Murphy still complied.

Is she as kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness.

Love doth to his eyes repair,

And help him of his blindness;

And, being helped, inhabits there…

Grey's eyes fluttered while he spoke, and by the time Murphy finished her breaths were slow and dreamy. He didn't want to risk waking her up so he pulled the covers over the two of them and turned to face the wall. He fell asleep with the whistle pressed against his palm, and a couple of inches between him and a girl who was far too good for him.

2:41 AM

"John?"

"Hm," he groaned in reply.

"You awake?"

"No," Murphy whispered, turning so he faced away from her.

"No one's done anything this nice for me in awhile," Grey said to his back after a pause.

"Same," Murpy rolled over again, wincing as the cot creaked, so he could see Grey. Through the darkness only the outline of her head on the pillow was visible.

"Jonah would love this book," Grey said as if he was alive and sleeping across the hall.

"Hm," Murphy sighed. Before Grey could drift of again Murphy posed a precarious question, "Do you still… love him?"

"Well…" The faint lines of her face were visible now that Murphy's eyes had adjusted to the dark, "Of course."

"But-"

"It doesn't change anything," Grey replied to his unspoken words. It was something that had been said to her many times since Jonahs death, "He was the love of my life, John, not even the Ground can change that."

"Don't you think you should move on?" Grey was gone again, probably dreaming of some place better, with Jonah and Charlie and other people who cared about her on the Ark. What did John have to dream about? Fingernails being ripped out of his skin and nooses being tied around his neck?

He was quite bothered, and for the first time since snow fell he was overheating. Murphy peeled off his black thermal and tossed it somewhere across the miniscule room.

4:07 AM

I loud hiss woke both Murphy and Grey, it echoed through the room and whatever background noise the Ark used to emit was now silent. It sounded like something important had just been turned off, but they were far too tired to care.

"Probably the heating system or something," Grey whispered while she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable again, which apparently meant curling up in a ball so her knees were basically in Murphy's back.

"Grey?"

"John."

"Why are you so excited by the thought of leaving Camp?" Murphy rolled and pushed Grey's legs away so he didn't get kneed in the stomach.

"Because the world seems so interesting."

"If by interesting you mean impending death around every corner you're definitely correct," Murphy commented. Grey could hear the smirk in his voice.

"What if there wasn't?"

"There is no 'what if-'"

"But imagine it!" Grey insisted, "If you were free from all of this what would you do?"

"Find a cave somewhere with tons of alcohol and sit there until I die," Murphy explained without hesitation. Grey grumbled something that sounded a lot like, of course.

"And you?" Murphy asked.

"Find someplace where we all can just live our lives without fear and bullshit and capitol punishment. What if there's a massive library buried under ground, still intact? I could live there with Monty and Miller. Raven and Wick can install some water system so we have showers and stuff and Bellamy can pour over all the mythology texts I find because I'm not that into those anyway."

Murphy sighed, because her dream was so simple, so unattainable, and he wasn't even part of it. Or so he thought.

"And you'll be friends with Bellamy again, no one will hate you," she continued after a pause.

"So I'm part of the dream too, huh?" Murphy said with false apathy.

"Of course you are," Grey yawned, while the darkness hid the smile on Murphy's face, "Of course you are."

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sorry it took so long to update! this chapter was supposed to be short, but as u can tell from this fic i am physically incapable of writing anything shorter than 1000 words. this turned out to be long, but you guys deserve it for waiting!

the song featured in this chapter is called Don't Fence Me In by Cole Porter originally and is where i got the title for this story. I imagine that most of the songs salvaged on the Ark were classics like this one. There are many versions of it on youtube including a sort of modern one by The Killers.

The first quote is from Shakespeare,

The second is From Wuthering Heights

The third is from a song by Shakespeare called Who is Sylvia?