Bellamy can feel all of it, clear as day. He can't help but suspect that this isn't just some strange dream fluke, that somehow this is specific. If this were survivor's guilt or fear of loss, why wouldn't Murphy be conjuring up Monty or Emori or any of the other dozen people he's closer to?
But. That guilt and that fear again. It tips Bellamy over into protective mode. There'll be time to talk about it later, but right now, he tugs Murphy away, trying to recapture his attention.
"I can try. Look at me."
He actually doesn't know how this is supposed to work. A part of him is afraid he'll conjure up something worse, too. So, he focuses on the glow in Murphy's chest, the warmth of his hand, and tries to think of... something else. Anything else that won't bring up more bad memories.
It turns out, it's not anything from home at all. That's all too tinged with loss and violence. Instead, it's one of New Amsterdam's streets, closer and more narrow than in real life, utterly deserted. But it's covered in plants, green leaves and bright blossoms and creeping vines covering the buildings. It's still and quiet and safe, and Abby disappears.
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But. That guilt and that fear again. It tips Bellamy over into protective mode. There'll be time to talk about it later, but right now, he tugs Murphy away, trying to recapture his attention.
"I can try. Look at me."
He actually doesn't know how this is supposed to work. A part of him is afraid he'll conjure up something worse, too. So, he focuses on the glow in Murphy's chest, the warmth of his hand, and tries to think of... something else. Anything else that won't bring up more bad memories.
It turns out, it's not anything from home at all. That's all too tinged with loss and violence. Instead, it's one of New Amsterdam's streets, closer and more narrow than in real life, utterly deserted. But it's covered in plants, green leaves and bright blossoms and creeping vines covering the buildings. It's still and quiet and safe, and Abby disappears.