Their Ma didn't worry the same way most mothers do; she didn't fuss over them, she didn't get all teary or affectionate - she nagged, she got more irritable with them before they left. It'd be their first time leaving home - first time on a plane, too - and the only thing that'd kept her from becoming totally intolerable was the reminder that they'd be together.


He didn't remember falling asleep, but he certainly remembered waking up when the turbulence became too rough to brush off. He remembered only really feeling fear set in when he saw the look on his brother's face, he remembered them both praying, holding onto each other-

And now, as he gingerly gets to his feet, Murphy's reassured in the fact that he's gonna remember what sand tastes like for the rest of his life. Senfuckingsational.

His head feels utterly fucked - as does the rest of him, to be honest, but his head especially - but he's at least upright, even with his vision swimming and his legs feeling like they've been replaced with slinkies. As he gathers his bearings and turns to check on Connor, belatedly it's then that he's realising that he's alone. He hasn't noticed if there's anyone else close-by yet, any of the other passengers- he's too gripped with the dread and panic that the very real possibility of losing Connor instinctively causes.

Yelling, then, seems like a reasonable option. Firstly for his brother, but then just for anyone.

Fuck off if he's gonna be stuck here alone. No fucking way.