Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Who would've thought the daughter of two known criminals would end up locked up? I'll do you one better, who would've thought that same daughter would be a part of the first people to return to Earth in 97 years? Not you.

But here you were.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankid itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odd of survival were better, we would've sent others." A voice - Jaha's - explains calmy. "Frankly, we've sent you because your crimes have made you expendable. And if, however, you do survive your crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean..." He continues, but you've stopped listening.

For the first time, you look around you. You recognize a few faces - Jasper, Monty, Harper - your gaze quickly finds Finn, who's gotten out of his seat. A cry for attention, most likely, as the group cheers him on.

"Go, Finn!"

"Check it out, your dad floated me after all." Finn speaks, you barely hear it over Jaha's voice. You assume he's taunting Wells, who wouldn't be? Especially now after his father sent you all to die.

"You should strap in before the parachutes deploy." Wells responds, unamused yet concerned.

"Hey, you two! Stay put if you want to live!" Clarke orders, as two guys were taking off their seatbelts. "Stay in your seats!" She repeats.

Then it all comes crashing down.

The world tilted, the ship screeched as metal met metal, chaos erupting. You barely had time to brace yourself before it all went dark.

The machine hum disappears as the lights flicker. The belt buckles all click off and everyone immediately gets up. Looking around, everyone seems shocked. As if they can't believe where they are, or the situation they're in. Truth be told, you can't believe it either.

Clarke runs over to the boy on the ground. "Finn, is he breathing?" You hear faintly as you climb down the ladder to the lower floor. You spot a guard — or someone in a guards uniform.

"The door is on the lower level!" You call out, as you push towards the front of the group. The guard (whom you recognize as Bellamy Blake) holds out his arm, in attempts to push the group back.

"Hey, just back it up, guys." As he speaks, Clarke climbs down the ladder.

"Stop!" She yells, moving towards Bellamy. "The air could be toxic."

"If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway." You chime in. You don't mean to bring down anyone's spirits, you merely state a fact. "It's not like we can stay in here forever."

Bellamy nods over at the blonde. Then he hears her.

"Bellamy?"

Your attention is redirected at the voice behind you. You spot a brunette around your age. She's pretty, you think as she approaches the guard. You hear a whisper. Thats the girl they hid under the floor. Your eyes travel back to her in surprise.

You watch the two siblings share a moment. Then, Clarke speaks. "Where's your wristband?"

The pretty girl turns to glare at her in annoyance. "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year."

"No one has a brother!"

"That's Octavia Blake! The girl they found hidden in the floor." Someone announces. The crowd begins to mutter, and someone has the audacity to laugh.

So they locked her up for what — being born? Your eyes on her. Though it doesn't surprise you, it's a ridiculous situation. She shouldn't be here, you think. She's not a criminal. But in the eyes of the Chancellor, you suppose she is.

As you think, the door opens. Your eyes narrow, not used to such light. You take in the view, the trees, the sun. But no one dares to move. Until, the girl — Octavia, as you overheard — takes a reluctant step, breathing in the fresh air. She waits a moment, before walking all the way down. Once she reaches the ground, she looks around before finally exclaiming.

"We're back, bitches!"

—

Once on Earth, you realize a couple things. One, it's nothing like space. You can actually breathe freely, without having to worry about how much oxygen there is. Two, mosquitoes are annoying little shits. And three, you're going to need some allies.

Which is how you ended up with Jasper and Monty. You barely know them, truthfully. But they're approachable and relatively harmless.

"How's Earth treating you, Watson?" Monty grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Is it everything you've ever dreamed of?"

"It's hot. And mosquitoes keep biting me." Your dry tone makes him and Jasper laugh. Then, Jasper walks up behind Wells and Clarke, peering over their shoulders.

"Ah, cool, a map." He starts, looking at the blonde. "They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer—" Jasper gets pushed back by Wells. Uncalled for, but alright.

"You mind?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Hands off him, he's with us." Another voice interrupts. Your gaze lands on Murphy and some guys whose names you don't know. Jasper walks back to you and Monty, with an annoyed yet confused expression.

"Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are." Wells defends. You can't help but roll your eyes.

"We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" Bellamy interjects from next to Octavia.

You, Jasper and Monty take a step back, as you watch it unfold.

"We need to find Mount Weather." Wells starts walking towards Bellamy. "You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

"Screw your father." Octavia speaks. "What? You think you're in charge here? You and your little princess?" She scowls.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?" Clarke retorts. "We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the chancellor said so but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll be and the harder this'll be." She continues. "How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a 20 mile trek, okay?"

"So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."

"I got a better idea." Everyone turns to Bellamy as he speaks. "You two go. Find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change." The crowd agrees with him, yelling out 'Yeah!' and nodding along.

"You're not listening. We all need to go." Wells argues, looking around for support. You nod, finding it obvious. Murphy steps up from behind you, pushing Wells back.

"Look at this everybody. The Chancellor of Earth." He mocks, and you can hear the smirk in his tone.

"Think that's funny?" Famous last words as he falls back.

"No but that was."

Before the two can start a full-on fight, Finn drops down. Seriously what was he doing up there? "Kid's got one leg. How bout you wait until it's a fair fight."

Murphy moves back into the crowd. Your eyes are trained on him as you take him in. He acts before thinking, he's impulsive and aggressive. He's the type of guy you usually steer clear of.

As the crowd dispersed, you turn back to Jasper, Monty and some others. "He had it coming." Someone says, with a shrug. "He thinks he's in charge."

You roll your eyes. "He's trying to help us survive. We need food, don't we?" You say, looking at the male expectantly. He doesn't meet your gaze.

"It's his attitude thats annoying. I mean—" Before Jasper can finish his sentence, Finn grabs him and Monty.

"4 of us. Can we go now?" You overhear, looking over your shoulder. There go your allies. You sigh, walking away from the group.

—

Pushing past Murphy, you look over at Wells. "Find any water yet?" You ask, but then your eyes trail over to the writing on the wall.

First son first to dye.

"Not yet. I'm going back out if you guys want to come." He stares at the writing before looking back at you, Murphy and Mbege. Murphy chuckles.

"Y'know, my father, he begged for mercy in the airlock chamber when your father floated him."

Wells merely pushes past him, bumping into his shoulder. "You spelled die wrong, geniuses."

In comes Bellamy. "If you're gonna kill someone it's probably best not to announce it."

"You're not really a member of the guard, are you?" Murphy asks, with a smug expression.

"No. But the real guard will be here soon unless we stop it." He's speaking only to Murphy and Mbege, while you're to the side, watching the encounter. "You don't actually think they're gonna forgive your crimes."

Silence.

"Even if they do, then what?" Bellamy continues his little speech. "Guys like us, we're gonna become model citizens now, get jobs, if we're lucky, maybe pick up their trash?"

"You got a point?" Mbege interrupts, annoyed.

"No, I got a question. They locked you up, dumped you down here like lab rats to die. So why are you helping them?" You have to hand it to Bellamy, he makes a great point. Even if he's trying to save his own ass.

"The hell we are." Mbege scoffs.

"You're wearing those bracelets, aren't you?" You look at your own bracelet, intrigued. "Right now, those things are telling them whether or not it's safe to follow us down."

"Okay. You said we could stop it. How?" Murphy finally speaks.

"Take them off." Bellamy replies, as if it's nothing. "The Ark will think you're dead, that it's not safe to follow. You follow?"

Murphy's smirk reappears. "Right, and if we do, I mean, what's in it for us?"

"Someone has got to help me run things." And there it is. Before he can walk away, you make yourself known.

"I want in." Your voice interjects, drawing Bellamy's attention. You cross your arms.

His lips form into a mocking grin, copying your stance. He glances over at Murphy and Mbege, who share the same expression. "You want in?" He laughs.

"To your little boy's club. I want in." You clarify, expression unwavering. Your eyes travel to Murphy, before going back to Bellamy. "You'll need me."

Your words make him laugh again, as he takes a step closer. "Why would I need you?" He challenges. With the way he towers over you, you think he's trying to intimidate you. It doesn't work.

You let out an annoyed sigh, eyes trailing over to the writing carved onto the wall. "You clearly need someone with a brain." Your eyebrows raise, as you look back at Bellamy. You hear Murphy scoff in the background, but your gaze doesn't leave Bellamy's.

He looks down at you, amused. For a moment you think he'll push you away, refusing your help. But you know he needs allies, followers. So, he nods. "Alright, sure. Welcome to the club, Sherlock."

Your eyes narrow. "It's Watson." But he's already off.

You feel eyes on you, so you turn slightly, your gaze meeting Murphy's. He studies you with an unreadable expression, perhaps intrigued. He doesn't look away when you return his gaze. You take the opportunity to look him up and down, before turning away to set up your tent.

With your back turned, you don't notice his eyes lingering on you.

—

Joining Bellamy was a smart move. At least, you thought so until he ordered you to collect firewood, while him and his boys go off to do God knows what. You don't mind being excluded, in fact, you were counting on it. Your plan is to lay low to not draw too much attention, but be at least allies with someone in power.

But, at some point, Murphy waltzes over to where you're gathering wood. You're crouched down, looking up at him through squinted eyes. "You need something?"

He merely smirks, perhaps studying you. "Yeah, your bracelet." He twirls the knife in his hand. He crouches down next to you, waiting for you to give him your wrist.

You tilt your head, looking down at the bracelet. You hesitate, but you're not sure why. It's not like anyone will miss you up there. Maybe it's because cutting off your last bit of contact with the Ark seems... final.

Perhaps you should've joined Clarke's side, you muse.

Your eyes snap back up to Murphy, before you extend your wrist. "Go ahead."

He gets to work quick, letting out a chuckle. "Don't think your folks will miss you?" He mocks, his usual smirk gracing his lips. His eyes stay trained on the bracelet as he fumbles around with it.

"No folks to miss me." Your tone is flat, perhaps careful not to give anything away.

He doesn't respond right away, finally clicking off the bracelet, letting it fall with a thud. He lingers there for a moment, scanning you over. It's when you first notice his eyes. You find them pretty, you're not sure why, but you do.

Murphy's eyes flickered to yours, brief but calculated, like he's sizing you up. Or checking you out. You do the same, but much more subtly.

Before he can say anything else, you stand back up. "Thanks." Is all you say, before walking off to gather more wood.

—

You find yourself sat against a tree stump, watching as a group forms around the fire, as Murphy and Mbege take off people's bracelets. The crowd cheers them on.

You remain seated, observing the scene unfold as Murphy takes another bracelet off with an almost too-eager smirk. He tosses it into a growing pile, and you can't help but think of how reckless this might all be.

Yet, there's something about Murphy that catches your eye, but you're not sure what it is quite yet. He's a character, for sure. Quick to follow this rebellion Bellamy initiated. It tells you he's not a leader, though neither are you.

And while you technically stand with Bellamy's crew, you're not sure if you stand with him. It's survival, but his way is definitely reckless. You don't trust him just yet.

"Who's next?" Bellamy's voice cuts through the crowd, but Murphy's gaze shifts from the bracelets to you, lingering longer than it should.

You pretend not to notice, leaning back and focusing on the fire in front of you, but your mind keeps circling back to him. He's impulsive, but there's more going on under the surface, you're sure of it. You file that thought away for later.

Right now, you're playing your part, just like everyone else.

As the fire crackles and the chaos of the night continues, you feel his eyes on you again, and this time you glance up to meet his stare, challenging him without words. He doesn't look away. A slow smirk forms on his lips, and there's a glint in his eyes that tells you he's not as unaffected as he seems.

You look back at the fire, heat rising to your cheeks. It's not the flames.

Suddenly Wells appears. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks.

"We're liberating ourselves." Bellamy responds, with a cocky smirk. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're trying to get us all killed." And as you watch, you really can't understand why Wells even bothers. Last time he tried arguing he nearly got his ass kicked, and now, again? "The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we've got. Take them off, and the ark will think we're dying, that it's not safe for them to follow."

"That's the point, Chancellor." A few laugh. "We can take care of ourselves, can't we?" Bellamy yells again, causing the group to respond with an enthusiastic 'yeah!'.

"You think this is a game?" Wells begins, turning towards the people. "Those aren't just our friends and parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers. I don't care what he tells you, we won't survive here on our own." Turning back to Bellamy, he continues.

"And besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?"

"My people already are down." Bellamy's response is quick. "Those people locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your father did that."

"My father didn't write the laws." Wells defends, and you feel bad for him. Although he's right, there's no reasoning with the group.

"No. He enforced them, but not anymore, not here. Here, there are no laws. Here, we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want." Bellamy smirks as the crowd cheers for him. You think he must love the attention. "Now, you don't have to like it, Wells. You can even try to stop it or change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want."

"Whatever the hell we want!" Murphy yells, and the crowd follows, chanting. And as it begins to rain, the people grow more excited.

You find you quite like the rain. Despite the ruckus, it's peaceful.

—

You fall asleep to Wells' screams, pleading the group — Bellamy — not to take his bracelet. You shut your eyes tighter.

Chapter Text

"You're brave, y'know." Wells jumps as he hears your voice. He turns to you, shovel in hand, waiting for you to elaborate. "Standing up to Bellamy and his goons."

"Aren't you one of his goons?" He asks, unamused by you. You tilt your head, a small smile gracing your features. You take a few steps closer to him, and he takes one back.

"In a way, yes." You shrug. "I'm on 'his side', if that's how you see it." As you speak you circle around Wells, staring down at the small graveyard he's created.

"So why are you here?"

You pause, choosing your next words carefully. "I'm not a mindless follower, Wells. But what I know is that your resistance could get you killed. However," You gestures towards the graves. "This is really sweet."

He grows impatient. "And?" You don't blame him for his hostility.

"I think you're a good guy, Wells. Which is why I'm telling you to let Bellamy be. Chaotic or not, this is how we live now."

—

"Bellamy!" Murphy's voice calls out as he holds a girl close to the fire. "Check it out. We want the ark to think that the ground is killing us, right? Figured it'd look better if we suffered a little bit first."

"Let her go!" Wells runs in, pushing Murphy to the ground. He flops back, grunting.

You shut your eyes, shaking your head. It's like he was completely disregarding your warning. You suppose you can't help someone who doesn't want the help.

"You can stop this." Wells turns to Bellamy, almost pleading.

"Stop this? I'm just getting started." His tone is cocky as he shoots Wells a grin.

Murphy gets up and punches Wells right in the face. You wince. The new formed crowd starts chanting 'fight!'. No one intervenes, they simply watch. Enjoying the scene.

You stand next to Bellamy, arms crossed. You lean in slightly, muttering. "This is how we handle things?"

His smirk doesn't waver, muttering back in a mocking tone. "I'd say he deserves it." You merely roll your eyes. You suppose this is expected, Bellamy's stance doesn't surprise you. You joined him after all.

As the fight happens, all you can think about is how dumb this all is. Wells manages to gain the advantage, slamming Murphy against the ground. He gets up, not without punching Murphy straight in the face.

"Don't you see you can't control this?"

Murphy gets back up, now with a knife. "You're dead." He breathes, hair tousled and face slightly bloody.

"Wait." Bellamy interrupts. For a moment you think he might break it up. Perhaps he's starting to see things in a logical way.

He throws a knife in front of Wells. "Fair fight."

Guess not. You sigh.

Wells reluctantly picks it up. Murphy throws a swing. Then another. And another, until it finally lands, slashing Wells' arm. "This is for my father!" He swings again, but Wells manages to grab him, putting the knife against Murphy's throat. "Drop it!"

"Wells!" A voice interjects from the forrest, and in comes Clarke. "Let him go!" And so he does, pushing Murphy onto the ground. He goes back to attack Wells again, but is stopped by Bellamy.

"Hey! Enough, Murphy." He says, before looking over at his sister. "Octavia. Are you alright?" He goes over to check on her, once he makes sure she's alright, he turns back to the blonde.

"Where's the food?"

And as Clarke explains what happened — how they didn't make it to Mount Weather, how there were people here, and how they took Jasper — everyone begins to realize how serious this all is. How the radiation won't kill you, but the grounders will.

Eventually, Clarke notices Wells' wrist. "Where's your wristband?" But all he does is pull back his wrist, seeming ashamed. As this all goes on, you've approached the group, standing near Murphy.

"Ask him."

"How many?" Clarke asks Bellamy, but it's Murphy who answers.

"24 and counting." He says, with a smug smile.

—

"What the hell was it?" Bellamy asks, as squats next to his sister. He had called you over to tend to her wound, make sure she was okay. You were no doctor, but you knew the basics.

You dab a rag onto her wound, making her wince. You murmur a small, "Sorry." As you begin to wrap it up. Octavia shoots you a small smile, before answering her brother.

"I don't know. The others said it looked like a giant snake." She answers.

"You could've been killed."

"She would've been if Jasper didn't jump in to pull her out." There's Clarke again.

"You guys leaving? I'm coming, too." Octavia tightens the makeshift bandage, but before she can get up Bellamy stops her.

"No, no. No way."

"He's right. This needs to heal." You say, standing up.

Clarke nods, "Your leg's just gonna slow us down." Then, she turns to Bellamy. "I'm here for you."

"Clarke, what are you doing?" Wells is ignored.

"I hear you have a gun."

Bellamy lifts up his shirt to show it to her. "Good. Follow me."

"And why would I do that?" He challenges, not taking a single step.

"Because you want them to follow you, and right now, they're thinking only one of us is scared." With that, Clarke walks off. Bellamy looks over at you and Murphy. You merely nod in agreement.

"Murphy, Sherlock. Come with me." You grit your teeth at the wretched nickname. "Atom? My sister doesn't leave this camp, is that clear?"

"I don't need a babysitter." Octavia argues, but Bellamy merely turns to Atom. "Anybody touches her, they answer to me. Let's go." And that's your cue to follow.

You follow Bellamy, but God would you rather be anywhere else. Right at your side, Murphy asks. "Since when are we in the rescuing business?"

"Since Clarke made bossman look like a wuss." You mutter, earning a snort from Murphy. Bellamy isn't as amused.

"The ark thinks the prince is dead. Once they think the princess is, too, they'll never come down." He huffs, not once stopping nor looking back. "I'm getting that wristband. Even if I have to cut off her hand to do it."

—

"Hey, hold up. What's the rush? You don't survive a spear through the heart." The group comes to a stop. You all turn to Bellamy, noticing the gun in his hand.

"Put the gun away, Bellamy." Wells goes to push him away, only for Murphy to intervene.

"Why don't you do something about it, huh?" You grab the back of Murphy's jacket, pulling him away from Wells.

"You wanna get your ass kicked again?" You roll your eyes. Murphy looks at you, surprised. He doesn't shrug you off, nor does he say anything. He backs off, as Clarke answers.

"Jasper screamed when they moved him. If the spear struck his heart, he'd have died instantly." She looks back at you for a moment, then Bellamy. "It doesn't mean we have time to waste."

Before she can turn, Bellamy grabs her arm to stop her. "As soon as you take this wristband off, we can go." Clarke yanks her arm back.

"The only way the ark is gonna think I'm dead is if I'm dead." She gets close, gaze unwavering. "Got it?" You can't help but smile.

"Brave princess."

"Why don't you find your own nickname?" A voice - Finn's - interjects. "You call this a rescue party?" Not really, no. "Got to split up, cover more ground. Clarke, come with me." The two go off together, leaving you, Murphy, Wells and Bellamy behind.

You all look at each other, before Bellamy speaks. "You two," he points at you and Murphy. "Together. The prince is with me. Let's go." With that he walks off, Wells grumbles but follows him reluctantly.

"You and me, Watson." Murphy smirks, his shoulder nudging yours. "Dream team."

"For you, maybe." You sigh, leading the way. He chuckles, following closely. You intrigue him. John Murphy pisses off plenty of people, but you? You're by far the most interesting.

You're quiet, mysterious, even. Yet you're snarky, sarcastic. You're not a leader, but you're not afraid to speak your mind, and you don't express your fear. You're smart and you know it. You joined Bellamy because he has the advantage not only the gun but people listen to him. Murphy's realized all this about you.

"So, Sherlock," Murphy starts from close behind you. You don't bother turning to face him as you continue walking. "What's your story? You don't strike me as the type to play well with others."

You keep walking, a sardonic smile appearing on your face. "Haven't seen you handing out any friendship bracelets, either."

He chuckles. "I've got plenty of friends."

"Name one." You raise your eyebrows. His shit-eating grin tells you whatever he says next is going to be ridiculous.

"You."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm not your friend, Murphy. Just a poor soul stuck babysitting you." You let out an exaggerated sigh, making his grin grow.

"Ouch." He mocks offense, hand over his chest. "Hurtful."

You let out a deep sigh, something you often do when around stupid.

"Seriously, though, you've got this 'I don't need nobody' thing going on, but you stick with Bellamy?"

You shrug. "Survival's a group effort, whether I like it or not."

His smirk widens, growing more and more curious. You're cautious. He knows when someone is hiding something, and you? You're hiding shit ton. He intends to figure you out. "Whatever you say, Sherlock."

"Call me that again and you'll see how good I am with a knife."

He snickers. "Noted." Your tone makes him back off, at least for now.

—

"Hey, how do we know this is the right way?" Murphy asks as he walks next to you.

"We don't. Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker."

"It's called 'cutting sign.' Fourth year Earth skills. He's good." Wells speaks.

"You want to keep it down or should I paint a target on your backs?" Finn stops by a bush, squatting down to find some blood on the ground.

A noise is heard in the distance.

"What the hell was that?" Murphy turns to the group.

Fingers crossed it's Jasper.

"Now would be a good time to take out that gun." Is all Clarke says as she keeps walking. Passing by a couple more trees, you spot him.

"Jasper."

He's tied up, passed out on a dead tree. He looks like shit, you think. But to be fair he got speared in the chest.

"Oh my God. Jasper?"

"Be careful."

"What the hell is this?" Bellamy speaks, but before he gets a response Clarke falls. A trap, spikes at the bottom. Bellamy acts fast, grabbing her by the arm. The rest of you rush to pull her up.

"You okay?" You ask, hand on her back. She nods, panting. "Yeah... We need to get him down." She looks up at Jasper.

"I'll climb up there and cut the vines." Finn says. Wells nods. "I'm with you."

"No. Stay with Clarke. And watch him." He nods over at Bellamy, then focuses on you and Murphy. "You two, let's go."

You and Murphy exchange glances before you sigh and follow the boy. Murphy trails after you. Once you reach Jasper, you take out your knife to start cutting the vines.

"Hurry up, guys." Finn orders.

"Going as fast as I can." You retort, brows furrowed.

A distant growl is heard. It makes you three pause. "What the hell was that?"

"Grounders?"

A fucking panther appears out of nowhere, but you're too busy cutting Jasper free. You hear Clarke order Bellamy to use the gun, but it's Wells who shoots it. He misses the first few times, but just as the panther would've reached Bellamy, he shoots it down.

"Now she sees you."

—

Finally back at camp, you watch as everyone gets in line to get their bracelets removed. Not by force, though not necessarily by choice, either. Coercion. Bellamy says you can't eat if you still have it on.

Thankfully, yours has been off for a while now. Back at your designated tree stump, you feast away. Panther meat isn't your favorite, obviously. It's not even good. But it's food, and you're hungry. So you eat.

You hear a commotion near the fire, but you don't bother looking. As you finish your food, you feel someone approaching. Looking up, you see Murphy.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." He thinks he's funny. And he unfortunately is, as he forces a small smile on your lips.

"What do you want now?" You try to sound annoyed. He grins.

"To grace you with my company." With that he sits across from you, food in hand. He takes a bite, eyeing you. Again, those annoyingly pretty eyes. Seriously, this guy.

"More like annoy me." You grumble, turning away from him. His gaze is still on you, and you feel it. But you figure it's best to try and ignore it.

"You wound me, Watson."

"Sucks to be you, Murphy."

—

It's a little while later when you hear Atom. "Guys, you're not just gonna leave me here."

Then, Bellamy. "No, Atom. I wont be disobeyed."

Whatever the hell is going on, you don't plan on finding out.

"Guys! Bellamy!"

Chapter Text

Jasper's groaning doesn't let anyone sleep. You admit it's annoying, but the kid survived a spear to the chest. Plus, the people yelling at him are being just as loud.

"Can he just die already?" Some asshole yells. You huff, shutting your eyes and letting sleep take you.

—

You lean against a tree, watching as Murphy and Bellamy practice their knife throwing skills. Murphy fails, letting out an annoyed sigh. "It's that damn kid, alright, messing with my head."

"He's not gonna last much longer. Better think of a new excuse." Bellamy retorts, his voice dry. Murphy scowls and you can't help the chuckle that escapes you. He hears it, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

Bellamy throws his knife and it lands. "That's how it's done."

You can't help but smirk at Murphy. "You should take notes." You tilt your head.

The look he gives you isn't quite a glare, but it's close. It's somewhat lighthearted, you can tell by his small smirk. Murphy's gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than intended before he turns back, muttering under his breath.

"We searched a half-mile all directions." Atom appears, Connor behind him. "No sign of Trina or Pascal."

"Visit your special tree when you were out there?" Murphy smirks, passing by the male to go pick up his knife.

"Atom took his punishment. Let it go."

"Could be grounders." Atom continues, with a worried expression.

"Yeah, or they could be in pound town. Lot of that going around recently." Murphy smirks, throwing a wink your way. You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your pulse jumps. It's stupid. He's stupid.

You don't miss the way his smirk widens when you fake gag in response.

"Look, Bellamy, people are scared." Atom begins, but you stop listening when Murphy approaches you, twirling his knife in his hand.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. "You're shit with that knife, Murphy." You speak bluntly.

He rolls his eyes, leaning awfully close to you. "Like you're any better." He retorts, not once breaking eye contact.

There they are again. His pretty blue eyes. Every time they're on you, you swear time stops. He can't help but study you, and it feels like hours as he does so. Your heart hammers, not used to such attention. You mask it with a bored look.

But it's only a few seconds until Bellamy catches Murphy's attention.

"— We'll keep an eye out for them when we go hunting later." At this, Murphy perks up, moving away from you. Though not before shooting you a grin.

"Let's go kill something." But before he can walk off, Bellamy stops him.

"You're not going. I need you to stay here." He starts, "If the grounders are circling, we can't leave this place unprotected."

Murphy scowls, but gives in. "Fine. Somebody better tell goggle boy to keep it shut." He turns away, knife still in hand.

Bellamy looks back at you, "Sherlock?"

"Watson." You correct, eyes narrowing.

He waves you off, dismissing it. "Make sure Murphy doesn't do anything stupid." With that, Bellamy walks off. Leaving you and Murphy in a strange, unexpected silence. You glance at him, expecting another snide remark, but he holds his knife out to you.

You raise a brow, taking it cautiously. "Guess I'm babysitting you again, huh, Murphy?"

His lips quirk into a smirk, and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. "Go on. You should practice," he begins, "You can't defend yourself from the grounders with just your brain." He says, in an odd mix of sincerity and mocking.

At this, you raise your gaze back at him, a smile playing on your lips. You decide to humor him, throwing the knife at the tree. It lands, surprisingly solid.

He doesn't look impressed. "Beginner's luck." You hear him say, as you walk over to retrieve the knife.

"You're just mad I'm better than you." You bumping his shoulder as you pass him, shoving the knife back into his hand. "Here. You need the practice."

You don't look back as you walk away, missing the grin that crosses his face.

—

Later in the day you're all in the drop-ship thanks to the acid fog outside. Jasper's groaning is keeping everyone awake. Last night, you would've just slept outside. But that's not an option today.

"I can't take this much longer!" Someone complains. Everyone is either bitching over Jasper or desperately covering their ears. You notice Murphy out of the corner of your eye.

"That's it. I'm ending this." He sits up.

"I heard Bellamy gave him till tomorrow." A girl says.

"Yeah, well, Bellamy isn't here, is he?" Murphy retorts, annoyed. "Kid's dying anyway, I'm just getting it over with." When he stands, you do too.

By no means are you some hero, but Jasper is a friend. Or, acquaintance, at least.

Monty scrambles up the ladder in a hurry. "Murphy's gonna kill Jasper!" He yells, and you assume him and Octavia shut the trap door. But it locks on the lower side.

"I'm gonna kill him, okay? Let me in!" Murphy pushes against the door. "Let me in, Monty!"

You grab him by the arm, pulling him down the ladder as best as you can. He's stronger than you, but you manage to get him down a couple of steps. "Calm down! Murphy!"

He struggles against you, pulling his arm away harshly. "Let me go, Watson! I'm doing us all a favor." His arm moves in attempts to push open the door once again. "Both of you better open this hatch right now!"

"Like hell you are!" You grab him again, desperately trying to push him down. As you both struggle, a voice stops you.

"Hey! The fogs gone." A girl calls out, after opening the door. Everyone on the lower level reluctantly exit the drop-ship, going off to check out what the hell just happened.

Once alone, you let go of Murphy only when you're sure he's calmed down. He looks down at you, annoyed. There's a long, awkward silence between you two. The looks you usually share are different than this one, Murphy can't place his finger on it. Your eyebrows are furrowed, you're not looking at him — more so glaring.

Murphy's annoyance falters for a split second as he catches your glare — he's not used to seeing you look at him like that. It twists something in his gut, he doesn't like it. Still, he speaks.

"Should've let me kill him. He's dying anyway."

"Bellamy gave him till tomorrow, you psycho." You grit, walking past him and out the drop-ship. Murphy stands where you left him, looking up at the hatch, then at your figure. He scoffs.

—

It's nighttime as everyone gathers around the fire. You're at your usual tree stump, fumbling with a knife you found. You see Murphy near the fire, but he does not approach you. You're glad he doesn't. When the group come back your attention is drawn to them. You stand up, walking over to Bellamy as Octavia storms off.

Atom's dead.

Murphy approaches Bellamy, too.

"Lose anyone here?" He looks between you two, perhaps noticing the tension. You shake your head.

"Jasper?" Bellamy asks.

"Still breathing. Barely. I tried to take him out, but your psycho little sister—" Murphy starts, only for Bellamy to push him back.

"My what? My what?" He yells, grabbing Murphy's shirt. Murphy's expression doesn't change. You think it's because he doesn't want to seem weak.

"...Your little sister." He corrects, pushing Bellamy's grasp away.

"Yeah, that's right. My little sister." Bellamy glares down at Murphy, the scene is tense. You stand behind the two, long forgotten. "Got anything else you want to say about her?" He challenges.

Murphy pauses for a moment, "Nothing. Sorry." He forces out.

Bellamy steps back, glare still on Murphy as he orders the other to get Atom's body away from the campfire. After this, he walks off. When he does, Murphy sees you again, studying him with an unreadable expression.

Looking away from you, Murphy throws his knife at a tree, and it lands.

—

A little while later and you're back in your usual spot. You try to relax but your thoughts return to Murphy. You look over, seeing him sat in front of the campfire all alone. He's messing with the knife he threw earlier, though it's not his usual knife, you note. You linger for a moment, debating if you should even bother.

You stand and walk over, trying not to think too hard about why.

"Gonna sit there brooding all night?" you ask, leaning against the log next to him. Your tone is casual, almost light, as if you're just making conversation.

Murphy glances up, smirking faintly. "What, you come to check on me?"

You shrug, keeping your gaze on the fire. "Just making sure you're not about to storm off to do something stupid again."

He lets out a short, dry laugh, looking away. "Nice to know you care, Watson." It's sarcastic, because he knows you don't.

Except, you do. In a way.

The silence stretches between you, comfortable but with an edge of awkwardness. You don't quite know what to say, and neither does he. But somehow, you don't mind. There's something in his expression—almost unguarded—that makes you hesitate, but the moment passes before you can place it.

You settle into a quiet, almost uneasy truce, neither of you quite willing to leave yet. You're not sure what to say, you don't even know why you approached him. But he doesn't seem to mind, you catch him glancing at you a couple of times.

You don't comment, a smile growing on your features.

Chapter Text

The whole camp is working. Some are building the wall, others making weapons. You show off the building plans to Bellamy, explaining the most efficient way to get things done. He listens intently, before Murphy approaches.

"This section should be finished by tomorrow." He interrupts, and you lower your blueprints to narrow your eyes at him. The two boys then look over at Connor, who stopped in his tracks.

"Hey!" Murphy calls out, as he approaches the dehydrated boy, he speaks. "You think the grounders are gonna sit around and wait for us to finish the wall? Maybe we should let the little girl do the lifting for you, huh?" He mocks, as Connor pants.

"I just need some water, okay? Then I'll be fine." Connor defends. You feel the need to add, "We can't get anything done if we're dehydrated."

"Murphy, get this guy some water." Bellamy orders, then turns to Charlotte. "Hey, you got this?" She hesitates but goes to pick up the wood. "I'm just kidding."

You're looking down at your blueprints, triple checking them to make sure the wall will be stable when Murphy approaches Connor again and, I kid you not, fucking pisses on him.

"Ugh! What the hell is wrong with you, Murphy?" He gets up, agitated. He pushes Murphy back with more force than expected. "I'll kill you!" He lunges, but others grab him before he gets close.

"You wanted a water break." Murphy explains. Connor tries to break free. "Get back to work!" He yells, before returning to your side as you shoot him a disgusted look.

"You're seriously gross." You scowl. "How old are you, Murphy?" He only stares at you for a moment or two, before smirking.

"Get back to work, Watson." He mocks.

You roll your eyes. "I am working. Can't say the same about you, though."

He walks off, on his way to rush more people. You get back to work, coordinating everyone, ordering them, making sure they place the wood correctly so the wall won't break so easily. Then, you hear it.

"You son of a bitch!" Clarke pushes Murphy. He only laughs.

"Whats your problem?"

"Recognize this?" She has his knife.

"It's my knife. Where'd you find it?" He tries to reach for it but Clarke pulls it back.

"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells."

A pause.

"Where I what?" Everyone, including you, have crowded around the scene. "The grounders killed Wells, not me."

"I know what you did, and you're gonna pay for it."

"Really?" He challenges, looking past her. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?" But Bellamy doesn't defend him, he only crosses his arms.

"You threatened to kill him. We all heard you." Clarke continues, getting in Murphy's face. "You hated Wells."

"Plenty of people hated Wells." He retorts. "His father was the chancellor that locked us up."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who got in a knife fight with him." Clarke yells, losing her patience.

"Yeah, I didn't kill him then, either." He snaps back, quick to respond.

"Tried to kill Jasper, too." Octavia chimes in.

Murphy looks around at the crowd, with a small smirk. "Come on. This is ridiculous. I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to answer to anyone!" He tries to walk off.

Bellamy narrows his eyes, arms crossed. "Come again?"

Murphy's demeanor falters. He takes another look at the crowd — at you. Before returning to the leader. "Bellamy, look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this."

"They found his fingers on the ground with your knife." Bellamy asserts.

"Yeah, that doesn't mean it was him, anyone could've taken his knife. He didn't even have it yesterday." You defend, and the attention shifts to you. You know it wasn't him — if it was, he'd be flaunting it. But Murphy looks and sounds just as confused as everyone else.

Bellamy knows it too.

Clarke glances at you, before continuing. "Is this the kind of society that we want? You say that there's no rules. Does that mean we can kill each other without— without punishment?"

"I already told you. I didn't kill anyone." Murphy repeats, and you believe him.

"I say we float him!" Connor jumps in, and the crowd agrees.

Clarke falters, shaking her head. "That's not what I'm saying."

"You can't even prove it was him." You remark, noticing the look on Murphy's face.

"Quit defending him! He deserves to float. It's justice." Connor spat, with a glare.

"Revenge isn't justice!"

"It's justice. Float him!" Connor yells, and the crowd starts to chant. "Float him! Float him! Float him!"

You throw a wild glance at Murphy, who's surrounded by the frenzy, and for a moment, his eyes find yours. You see fear there — raw, desperate. He turns away, presumably to run but someone kicks his leg. Once he's down, the crowd jumps him.

"No! No, get off him!" You yell, pushing as well as you can. Clarke helps, but there's too many of them. God, why did Murphy have to make so many enemies?

"Stop it!" You're held back, you scramble to free yourself. "Let me go! Stop!" Jasper and Monty struggle to keep their hold on you, but it's two against one so they manage. "Get off him!"

But they manage to tie him up and carry him. They hang a rope in a nearby tree, and as they start tying, you free yourself from the boys' grasp. With a glare, you shove them harshly before pushing through the crowd. "You can't do this!"

They tie the rope around his neck, and force him to stand on some boxes. You try to fight the crowd but this time it's Connor that stops you. You push and shove at his chest, "Get off me! This isn't right!"

"You can stop this!" Clarke yells at Bellamy. Connor pushes you to the ground, turning to Bellamy.

"Bellamy! You should do it. Bel-la-my! Bel-la-my!" Connor begins to chant, and others soon follow.

You manage to stand up, looking up at Murphy who shakes his head, pleading. You can barely see his eyes, they're so swollen.

"I saw you in the woods with Atom, I know you're not a killer!" Clarke tries to convince, shoving at Bellamy's chest. "Bellamy, don't do this. Don't do this!" She pleads, but he walks towards the boxes.

"Don't. Bellamy!"

He pushes the box. Murphy hangs. You scream. The crowd cheers as they hear him struggle. You try to fight your way past Bellamy and Clarke as they push each other. Then, the voice of reason appears.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Finn yells. "Cut him down! Charlotte, get out of here, now!" But Connor holds up a knife. Him and Finn tussle before Charlotte finally speaks.

"Stop! Okay? Murphy didn't kill Wells!" Her voice stops everyone as they turn to her. You're too busy pushing past Connor to care. "I did!" She admits.

"Oh, my god."

You cut the rope, and Murphy falls. You run to his side, taking his head in your lap. "Shit, shit. Murphy?" You shake him until he gasps for air. You let out a sigh in relief, removing the rope from his neck and the cloth he had tied around his mouth.

As he pants, his eyes travel to Charlotte, then the crowd, then you. "Breathe, come on, you're fine." You try to soothe, one hand holding his face. His eyes stay on you, and only you. At this moment, you look angelic, especially from this angle. As you cradle him, it's like everyone else slips away.

You're panting too. You were scared half to death. Your eyes are what confuse him. He sees worry in them, but something else he can't quite explain. Your gaze travels around you, before back down at the boy on your lap.

"You okay?" You finally ask, tone much softer than usual. Your typical sarcastic tone is nowhere to be found. Your hand still cradles his face. He coughs, then wheezes. You wince.

"I look okay to you?" He snaps, with another cough. Again you confuse him. He didn't expect you to care so much. It makes his stomach flip. He doesn't understand you.

You scoff.

"God, you're so annoying." You mutter, but there's no venom in your words. Your eyes are narrowed as you inspect him carefully. When he makes an effort to get up, you help him.

—

"Bring out the girl, Bellamy!" Murphy yells, pacing around impatiently. He wants revenge, rightfully so. But this isn't the way to do it. "Bring the girl out now!" His voice is still raspy, and you want to tell him to stop yelling but with how angry he is, you know he won't listen.

"You want to build a society, princess?" Murphy continues. "Let's build a society. Bring her out!" Finn peeks his head through the tent before shutting it. You turn to Murphy.

"You need to chill out before this gets worse." You mutter, stepping closer.. He looks down at you, his eyes blazing but you meet them without flinching. Bellamy comes out of the tent, capturing his attention before he can say anything to you.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us." He saunters over to Bellamy.

"Dial it down and back off."

"Or what? What are you gonna do, Bellamy? Hang me?" Murphy challenges.

"I was just giving the people what they wanted." Which further proves your 'Bellamy is just looking out for himself' theory.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea. Why don't we do that right now?" He turns back to the crowd, but he doesn't look at you directly. Your disappointed gaze isn't something he can handle right now.

"So who here wants to see the real murderer hung up?" Murphy asks, and you shut your eyes, shaking your head. "All in favor?" About 4 people raise their hands.

You don't. He didn't expect you to, but he still feels betrayed. "I see. So, it's okay to string me up for nothing," he starts, looking over the crowd. "But when this little bitch confesses, you all let her walk?!"

Silence.

"Cowards! All of you are cowards!" He yells.

"Hey! Murphy! Murphy." Bellamy gets up in his face. "It's over." The two glare at each other for another moment before Murphy shrugs.

"Whatever you say, boss." And when Bellamy turns around, Murphy hits the back of his head with a piece of wood.

"You son of a bitch!" Octavia screams, but Jasper stands in front of her. Murphy punches him straight in the face, before turning to his allies.

You scramble over to where Jasper landed, but your eyes are still on Murphy.

"Come on. Let's get the girl." When they approach the tent, she's no longer there.

"Charlotte! Charlotte I know you can hear me! And when I find you, you are gonna pay!"

—

It's getting dark, and Murphy is still chasing after Charlotte. You're with him. Not in support but in attempts to stop him. He won't listen to you, he's a stubborn little bastard.

"Charlotte!" He yells once more, as he ventures through the woods. Mbege and the others behind him. You push to the front, grabbing his arm to make him face you. "What?" He practically spits.

"You're really gonna kill a kid? That's where this is going?" Your hand grips his elbow, voice firm but tinged with something else — desperation. For a moment he looks at you, he sees you. He studies you as he usually does, a scowl forming on his face.

"Y'know, Watson, you act like you care when you don't. You can't play on both sides! You can't defend that little bitch, while standing by my side." He yanks his arm away from you, but you stand your ground.

"This isn't about sides, Murphy!" Your voice rises, but not with anger — more so frustration. "This is about not making things worse. She's a kid!"

He scoffs, shaking his head. "A kid who killed Wells and almost got me hung for it! You think we should just let her off the hook?"

You step closer, unafraid. "No. But, killing her? That's too far. You're not thinking."

He narrows his eyes, stepping into your space. "I'm thinking just fine." His words are sharp.

"You're angry, as you have every right to be. But this won't fix anything, Murphy." Your words get quieter. "This will only make things worse." It's like you're pleading him to do the right thing, begging him not to go down this path.

For a moment, he falters. His eyes full of uncertainty. But it is only for a split second, because when he glances back at his group, then at you, "I don't need you." He spat.

For some reason, his words hurt. You take a step back, eyes slightly wide. You never once believed he did need you. You didn't think you were special, but you thought — perhaps hoped— you'd finally made a friend.

"Murphy! I'm over here!" Her screams capture his attention immediately. He chases after them, leaving you where you stand, without a single glance. "Murphy!"

But you're not one to give up, so, you follow. The group runs until they meet with Bellamy and Charlotte, having nowhere else to run.

"Damn it."

"Bellamy! You can't fight all of us, give her up."

"Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you with me."

"Bellamy, stop!" Clarke's voice is heard. "This has gone too far. Just calm down, we'll talk about this." She tries to get through to him but there's no use.

You're quick to add, hand extended. "She's a kid, Murphy. This is too much." Your words are directed towards him, you don't bother addressing Bellamy.

When Murphy's eyes trail over to you, you falter slightly. Before you can react, he's pulling you in. Your back is to his chest as he holds a knife to your throat. Your breath hitches, and your body freezes completely.

He leans in to speak directly in your ear. "I'm so sick of you. You think you're better than me, huh, Watson? Acting all high and mighty." He grits. You want to shake your head, but you can't.

Clarke tries to reach out, but Murphy's grip tightens. "Back up! I will slit her throat." He threatens, glaring right at her.

"No, please! Don't hurt her." Charlotte sobs, Murphy looks over at her.

"Don't hurt her? Okay, I'll make you a deal." He starts, "You come with me right now, and I'll let her go."

Charlotte is considering it, you can tell. You shut your eyes, finally taking a breath. "Don't do it."

Just as she's about to, Bellamy holds her back. "No! No, I have to!" She fights in his grasp. Bellamy holds his arm out.

"Murphy, this is not happening." He speaks, while Charlotte gets closer and closer to the edge.

She looks back at the group, you can tell she's full of regret. "I can't let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did." And then she jumps.

"Charlotte!" "No, no, no!" Clarke sobs.

Murphy's hold on you weakens, taken aback. You take the opportunity to elbow him in the gut, freeing yourself. You stumble slightly, holding your neck.

Bellamy turns back to Murphy, tackling him. Overcome by grief, he throws punch after punch. You don't find it in you to try and stop him. You watch, eyes wide as you pant.

"Bellamy, stop! You'll kill him!" Clarke yells.

Finn finally pulls Bellamy off Murphy, but Bellamy thrashes in his hold. "Get off me! He deserves to die!"

"No! We don't decide who lives and dies. Not down here." You hear Clarke say.

"So help me God, if you say the people have a right to decide—"

"No, I was wrong before, okay? You were right. Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're gonna survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules!" Clarke's speech seems to ground you.

You glance at the bleeding Murphy, then at Clarke and Bellamy. Finn approaches you, examining your neck. It's just a scratch, but you appreciate the concern.

"And who makes those rules, huh? You?" Bellamy challenges.

"For now, we make the rules. Okay?"

"So, what, then? We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?"

"No!" Clarke sighs, "We banish him."

Bellamy grabs Murphy. "Get up." He drags him over to the cliff.

"If I ever catch you near camp, we'll be back here. Understand?" When Murphy offers a weak nod, Bellamy throws him back down on the ground. "As for the four of you, you can come back and follow me, or go off with him to die. Your choice." Bellamy walks off into the forrest, and the four follow.

You hesitate. Why are you hesitating? He nearly killed you. Still, you stand in place. Clarke waits for you, hands on either of your arms. "Let's go, Watson."

You let out a breath, "Just... hold on." You slowly approach where Murphy is, though you don't look at him directly. You drop his knife in front of him, wordlessly.

His eyes are on you, swollen and all. There's something swimming in them but you don't care to know. With a shaky breath, you turn back to Clarke and Finn who offer you sad glances.

You walk back into the forest, leaving Murphy alone.
—

You return to your usual tree stump, but it feels different. It all feels different. The two leaders inform the people on Murphy's banishment. Bellamy asks if anyone has a problem with it, no one says anything. Not even you. Because no matter how you feel, you know Murphy was wrong for what he did.

Chapter Text

You're in your tent as you mess with your knife. You're not sure what to do. It's nighttime, and usually you're at your tree stump with Murphy. But he's been banished, and you have no true friends in this camp. Or so you think.

Not that Murphy was a friend but... he certainly kept you entertained. Until he almost killed you, of course.

Bellamy calls for a meeting in his tent, so you go. Apparently they saw a pod flying down. When you enter the tent, they're already discussing. Octavia's there, too.

"If it cleared the ridge, it's probably near the lake."

"We should get moving. Everyone's ready." Octavia says.

Bellamy shakes his head. "No one's going anywhere. Not while it's dark. It isn't safe." Octavia looks like she's about to object, but Bellamy continues. "We'll head out at first light. Pass the word." Everyone leaves, except you and Octavia.

On your way out, Bellamy speaks. "Watson?"

"Finally got my name right." You grumble, looking over your shoulder. Both siblings look at you, Octavia's eyes are much softer. Pity, you assume.

"You okay?" Bellamy's question surprises you.

You pause, blinking. You merely shrug, dismissive. "All good, bossman." With that, you leave.

—

It's not long until Monty and Jasper approach you, a nervous look on their faces. You look up at the two, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" You ask. You had been following Bellamy's orders to stay in camp. You'd notice he went off by himself, but you didn't bother going after him. You assume whatever is in that pod, he wants.

You had been keeping busy, collecting firewood, making sure the wall is sturdy enough, but now you took a break against your tree stump. That is, until
the two boys showed up.

"We heard about Murphy." Jasper speaks up. Your eyebrow twitches. "You're not hurt, right?"

"I'm fine." Your tone is dry. The two share another glance. When they don't leave, you clear your throat. "Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah, actually." Monty speaks up. "I've been trying to communicate with the ark but since our wristbands all got fried, it hasn't gone well." You nod, to show that you're listening.

"You're smart, so I was hoping you could help?"

You hesitate. "That's not really my area..." but Monty interjects. "Truthfully, I need all the help I can get." You blink, turning to Jasper who merely nods to encourage you.

You sigh, getting up. "Alright. Lead the way."

—

You spent the whole damn day in the drop-ship with the two boys. And while the two are entertaining, you barely got any work done. Not that you mind.

"Wait, wait. You two got arrested for stealing herbs?" You let out a laugh of disbelief as the two nod.

"We had done it a couple times, we just forgot to replant them back." Jasper lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"Hilarious. I'm assuming you were smoking them, yeah?" You grin.

Monty nods, mirroring your grin.

You scoff, playfully. "Man, I missed out not growing up on Farm Station." You grumble, making them laugh.

"Yeah," Jasper starts, leaning back smugly. "You may be a good thief, but we know all the plants you can smoke."

You snort, "Found any on Earth?"

Monty sighs in annoyance, fiddling with something on his desk. "Not yet. But when we do we'll let you know." He meets your gaze, throwing you a wink.

You roll your eyes.

—

Apparently Raven Reyes flew down in the pod mentioned earlier. Bellamy calls for some people to move the pieces of the pod to camp.

It's nighttime when you shoot the flares. The air is crisp and cool, the kind that makes your skin prickle. You can hear the campfire crackling in the distance, along with the soft murmurs of the others talking amongst themselves. The flare burns brightly against the dark sky, casting long shadows.

You're standing next to Jasper and Monty as the three of you look up. As you stand next to the two, you realize you feel comfortable. Perhaps not fully at ease, but something about their easygoing nature makes it easier to breathe.

"Can they even see them?" Jasper asks, eyes squinted.

You and Monty shrug, though you give a verbal response. "Maybe."

"Is anyone missing you up there, Watson?" Monty turns to you. He doesn't ask in a mean way, merely curious. You realize they don't know all that much about you, considering you rarely spoke back on the ark.

You hesitate before answering Monty, though you knew the answer. It was a touchy subject. "Nope." Is your simple response. You never take your eyes off the flares in the sky.

Jasper shoots you an awkward smile. "You've got us now." His words hang in the air. You shift on your feet, perhaps awkward. It's nice, in a way that feels foreign to you. You're unsure of how to respond, so you just nod, keeping your eyes on the flares.

Chapter Text

Octavia is missing. Bellamy gathers a group of people, call it an Octavia search party. You all take weapons, whatever you can find, before you go. Just in case you meet any grounders.

Clarke worries for Jasper, telling him he hasn't left camp since the spear attack. You jump in to reassure her. "He'll be with me."

Jasper turns to you, letting out a sigh of relief. You grin. Clarke nods as the two of you walk along.

"Thank you. I mean, I want to help, really. It's Octavia. But..." He trails off, hesitating. You watch him patiently, but when he doesn't finish his sentence, you clear your throat.

"It's fine if you're afraid." Your gaze trails around.

"... Really?" He mumbles. You're not used to reassuring people, nor comforting them, but your friend is in need. So you try your best.

You nod, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just don't let it paralyze you."

"How wise." His smile widens into a teasing grin. You roll your eyes, but you know you've helped. The two of you come to a halt as the group does. They're all looking up.

"Did you see that?" "Look up there!"

And as you admire the sky, Raven speaks. "They didn't work. They didn't see the flares."

"A meteor shower tells you that?" Bellamy asks, gaze trailing back down.

"It's not a meteor shower, it's a funeral." Clarke looks at Bellamy, before looking back up. "Hundreds of bodies being returned to the Earth from the ark. This is what it looks like from the other side... They didn't get our message."

Raven is pissed. "This is all because of you!" She pushes Bellamy back.

"I helped you find the radio." He argues.

"Yeah, after you jacked it from my pod and trashed it!" She yells, Finn holding her back.

"Yeah, he knows." Clark says, "Now he has to live with it."

Bellamy looks back up. "All I know is that my sister is out there and I'm gonna find her. You coming or what?"

"Yeah."

"What are we waiting for? Move out!"

But you can't go without Finn, Jasper rushes him. Before Finn can turn away, Raven kisses him, muttering an "I love you." You notice Clarke's expression in the background, and your eyebrows raise.

You look over at Jasper who shares your same expression.

Then, you, Finn and Jasper walk off.

—

The people are afraid. One by one, they drop out of the search party. Bellamy isn't phased. "Go back if you want. My sister, my responsibility." This is of the few times you actually like Bellamy. You mostly find him annoying, but there's one thing that you respect. He'd go to hell and back for his sister.

As everyone falters, Jasper speaks up. "I'd walk into hell to find her." He looks at you, and you offer a smile. You try to communicate you're proud of him. He nods back at you in acknowledgment before following Bellamy.

You shrug at Finn, following the two boys. Finn looks terrified but he relents.

—

It's daytime and you're still searching. Finn sighs. "I got nothing. We lost the trail." But Bellamy doesn't falter.

"Keep looking."

"Wandering around aimlessly isn't going to find your sister. We should backtrack —"

"I'm not going back." Bellamy argues.

"Hey, where's John?" A girl speaks, and you all turn to her.

"I just saw him a second ago." Jasper breathes.

"Spread out. Couldn't have gotten that far."

His body plops down onto the ground. His throat was slit.

"They use the trees."

You're all freaked out, Jasper especially. Kid looks like he's about to have a panic attack. You can't have that.

"We shouldn't have crossed the boundary."

"Now can we go back?"

"There." Finn spots a grounder in the distance. "Right there."

"Another one." A boy says, voice trembling.

"We should run." So you do, as fast as you can. The trees all look the same to you, like a blur. You run until your legs hurt, always keeping a watchful eye on Jasper.

"Lets go! Lets go!" Someone yells.

"What are we gonna do? They keep cutting us off!"

"Just keep running!"

"I can't run much longer!" Jasper yells, and you agree.

"I'm not stopping for him!" Diggs responds.

"I'm sick of running anyway." Bellamy comes to a stop.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Finn pants.

"They know where she is." How sweet, always thinking of his sister. At least, it would be sweet if your lives weren't in danger right now.

You stay by Jasper's side, eyes darting everywhere around you as you try to catch your breath.

"Diggs! Where are you?"

"Roma!" You all chase after his voice. But when you reach him, he's been impaled by a trap. Roma screams, running off in fear.

"Wait! Roma! There could be more. Stop!"

You all stop in front of Diggs' body. "They were leading us here. It's the only direction we could run in." Jasper trembles, gaze alert.

"Hey. Where'd they go?" Finn asks. Bellamy sighs.

"After Roma."

You start running again. Though you're tired, and your legs are screaming at you to stop. You've lost two of your people, and now Roma's gone. So you keep going.

—

"There she is! Roma."

You were too late. Roma got hit by a spear in the chest. Only, she wasn't as lucky as Jasper.

"They're playing with us." Finn breathes.

"She only came because of me." You barely hear Bellamy's whisper.

"They can kill us whenever they want." At Finn's words, Jasper seems to freak out even more.

"Then they should get it over with!" He yells,
"Come on!"

"Jasper!" You whisper harshly, grabbing onto him.

"We know you're out there! You want to kill us..." "Bellamy!"

Monroe yells, as you all notice the grounders. You all step closer to each other, calculating how many there are.

Suddenly, a horn blows. And the grounders stop running towards you.

"They're leaving." Bellamy observes.

"That horn. What does it mean?" Jasper trembles.

"Acid fog." You sigh out. Finn takes something out of his bag.

"We have to run." Monroe says.

"There's no time."

—

Which is how you end up under a tent, in the middle of nowhere.

"How long are we supposed to wait?" Jasper whispers.

Your eyes narrow. "No clue." You mutter back.

"Will this even work?"

"We'll find out."

"No, we won't." Bellamy peeks his head out, looking around. "There's no fog." You all get up from under the tent.

"Maybe it was a false alarm?" Finn offers, but Bellamy's gaze is far away.

"They're coming back." He says, preparing himself. You take a look, shaking your head. "I think he's alone."

"Now can we run?" Monroe whispers, and you can't help but agree.

"He doesn't see us. I'm going after him." Leave it to Bellamy to complicate things.

"And what? Kill him?" Finn asks.

"No. Catch him. Make him tell me where Octavia is, then kill him." He speaks as if it's so simple. You and Jasper exchange worried looks.

"How do we know he's not leading us into another trap?" Jasper whispers.

"We don't."

—

You were getting sick of all this crazy shit. I mean, you were in it to find Octavia but now? Catching a grounder? This wasn't a part of the plan. Still, you can't turn back now. Well, you could but Jasper needs moral support. And with Monty not here, you're doing your best.

You finally find her, thank God. In a cave. With a grounder knocked out on the floor. Who knew she could be such a badass. "Bellamy?"

"Octavia." He sighs in relief, running over to her.

"Get the key." As Bellamy does, he turns back. "Monroe, Watson, watch the entrance." And so you do, shooting Jasper one final look before following the girl.

—

So how the hell did Finn end up getting stabbed? You truly don't know. You were standing guard by the entrance when it happened. Next thing you know, you're back at camp. Clarke and Raven hurriedly bring the injured to the drop-ship.

Chapter Text

Everyone's cooped up into the drop-ship as a storm is hitting. You're upstairs with the majority of the people. Bellamy managed to catch the grounder, tying him up. He says it's for intel, but you know he also wants revenge.

You don't know which is worse. The sounds of Finn screaming in pain, Bellamy trying to get answers from his hostage, or the storm.

While it all happens, you think of Murphy. You don't mean to, in fact you don't want to. Thinking of him only worries you. But you can't help it. You wonder if he's even alive. Maybe the grounders killed him. Maybe he's still out there, surviving. Does he have a shelter for the storm?

You worry for him. You wish you didn't. He was reckless, impulsive. He disregarded everything you told him that night. You know that, in a way, he deserved his punishment. At least Bellamy didn't kill him, but banishment is basically just leaving him to die.

You wouldn't say you miss him, because you don't, but it felt nice having someone who understood you. Jasper and Monty are fun, but you feel like a third wheel whenever you're with them. It's not their fault, they've been best friends for ages. Really, you appreciate their kindness.

You shouldn't think of Murphy. He held a knife to your throat. He doesn't care if you live or die, so why should you? You barely know him, he's made that abundantly clear.

Another scream from downstairs shattered your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to push Murphy's face from your mind, but it lingered. Finn's screams were getting worse, and Bellamy's voice was rising—low and threatening, the way it always got when he was about to cross a line. You hated this. All of it. Sitting here, doing nothing but worrying.

—

Chapter Text

The storm left the camp basically destroyed. Because of the grounders, it was vital that you fixed it. Bellamy had left you in charge for this, as he always does. Organizing people, coming up with blueprints, building? Though it wasn't your specialty in the ark, it is now. Though your specialty in the ark wasn't exactly an honorable one. Thievery is what got you locked up, after all.

You shake off the thought, reminding yourself that you're not on the ark anymore. You're on Earth.

"Double tie the knot so it's sturdier." You mutter at a boy, who only responds with a short nod. Then you turn around, "I need people to find bigger pieces of wood! The wall needs to be stronger this time!" You order, and a couple of guys respond with a 'Yes ma'am' before going off to find what you need.

"Look at you giving out orders." Jasper teases. You follow his voice, turning around. You snort, approaching their table.

"Someone has to." You look down at their work, eyes narrowing. "This is your job? Sorting nuts?" You blink.

"Hey, this job requires deep concentration!" Monty defends, "Catch." He throws one at Jasper, as he tries to catch it in his mouth. When he succeeds, they do their handshake. You raise your eyebrows, amused.

"What do you think they're gonna do with the grounder?" Jasper asks as he chews. You remind him to chew with his mouth shut, scowling.

"I'd rather not think about it." Monty responds for you.

"It's been days since Bellamy captured him. How long till his friends come looking?" Jasper grumbles, and you can tell he's worried.

"Cheer up." Monty comforts, you nod. "In that time, we'll all be dead from hypothermia."

Bellamy calls you over before he leaves. You jog over, blueprints in hand. "Bossman." You greet, "Things are looking good so far. I got a couple ideas to reinforce the camp, set up some traps or something." You inform, not noticing the worried look on his face.

He nods with a short sigh. "Clarke and I are going to the aid depot to gather some supplies. Can you handle everything over here?"

You raise a brow but nod slowly. "Nothing I haven't done before." But he still looks worried, your eyes narrow as you analyze his expression. "You good?"

He hesitates. "Fine." His gaze trails over to camp — how everyone's working under your orders, how they listen to you. "You're a good leader, y'know." His words are sudden.

You look surprised, of course you do. "Not at all. That's your job. I'm just... a strategist, I guess." You shrug. "You sure you're good?"

"I can't compliment you now?"

"Not really our dynamic." You blink, "Usually you order me around, I say 'aye aye captain' and we move on."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying, people listen to you. Use that."

You're not sure what he's on about. You're no leader. You don't enjoy the spotlight. Sure, people listen, but mostly because you know what you're doing. His words almost sound like a goodbye, they confuse you. Despite this, you nod, still weary.

"Sure thing, boss."

He takes one final look at the camp before he starts walking off. Clarke appears suddenly, about to follow him. Before she does, she turns to you.

"I trust you'll be fine?" Clarke offers a small smile.

"I'll run this camp like the navy."

"What's the navy?"

"No idea."

—

"Why's Jasper holding onto a stick for dear life?" You ask Octavia, who only offers you a mischievous smile. You raise your brow, growing more confused.

"Have you eaten any nuts today?" The question makes you pause. What on earth was she on about?

"Uh, only a couple. Monty gave me some, but I've been busy." You respond, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"The nuts are making Jasper trip out." She finally answers, and it finally starts making sense. Monty's ramblings, Jasper's stick.

"Interesting..." You look down at the box full of Jobi Nuts. "So these are no good?"

"I mean... they might be." She approaches slowly, taking a bag. She's about to walk off but you grab her arm.

"What are you up to?"

Octavia pauses for a moment, thinking about her response. "Miller won't let me talk to Lincoln."

You blink. "Who?" She sighs.

"The grounder." She explains, holding up the bag. "If he eats some of these, though..."

"Octavia..." You tilt your head. Bellamy left you in charge, and you know he wouldn't approve of this. "Bellamy said—"

"Oh come on Watson!" She looks like a child as she stomps her foot down. "Please? Bellamy isn't here. You're the boss! And... Lincoln wouldn't hurt me." She pleads. Literally. She puts both hands together, shooting you the kindest eyes she can.

You scoff. "Alright fine. But I never saw you, okay? I don't want any trouble with your brother."

"Yes ma'am! Thank you!" Octavia grins, before running off into the drop-ship.

—

Everyone was seriously tripping out. Chattering, laughter, walking around aimlessly. You would've thought it was amusing, but you were on the same boat. Apparently eating just a couple still affected you.

Your eyes remained on the ground as you sat against your stump. You rub your temples furiously, trying to ignore the sensations. You were losing it. You knew it was all a hallucination, you knew. You knew—

"Hey there, little bug." You freeze, your head in your hands. You don't look up, recognizing the voice. It's not real. She's not here. "Why are you hiding, sweet girl?" The voice asks, you assume it's crouched down next to you. You grit your teeth.

You take a peek. Regret hits you instantly. You shut your eyes, trying to cover your head even more. "You're not real." You mutter.

"How could you say that, bug?" The voice sounded wounded, like it always did when you didn't play along. "I'm right here. Mama's right here."

Your chest tightens. The familiar guilt creeps up on you, but you fight it off. "You're not her. I'm hallucinating." You hiss under your breath, your hands tightening into fists. Even now, you try to remain logical.

"Didn't you miss me?" Her voice is soft, thick with deceit. You can almost feel her fingertips brush against your shoulder, just like before. Soft, possessive. "It's been so long. Haven't you thought of me? Of everything mama taught you?"

You curl into yourself, wrapping your arms around your legs, trying to create distance between you and the voice. You can feel yourself shaking. This isn't her. Your mother is dead. "I don't miss you." You whisper. "You're dead."

"But I'm here, aren't I? Clever girl, always trying to outsmart everyone." The voice lowers, her tone changing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Even your poor mama."

She pauses, her voice shifting into something more playful when you don't respond. "Are you still doing it?" She asks. "Taking what's yours, bug? Just like mama taught you?" There's a note of pride in her voice.

You swallow hard. You feel small as she speaks. "No." You say, almost too quiet. You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. "I'm not that person anymore. I'm— I'm good now."

She hums in disapproval, like a mother scolding her child. "What do you mean, bug? You're not that person anymore?" She spat, her sweet tone disappearing. "You will always be a thief. Just like me — just like your father."

"I'm nothing like you!" You yell, louder than expected. You can't breathe. You're trying, but you can't. You pant, shaking your head. "I... I can't—" You gasp, trying to catch your breath but nothing works. You raise your head, meeting her eyes.

She smiles at you. Sweet. Deceptive. "Just like mama." She coos.

You scream.

—

You're still shaking, you don't even realize where you are. You don't know when it stopped, or if it stopped. All you know is when you opened your eyes, Raven was there. She's sitting behind you, her arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you against her. Your breaths come in ragged gasps. It takes a moment for you to realize her hand is stroking your hair, her voice soft.

"Hey, hey... it's okay. I got you." Raven whispers, her tone steady. "You're safe."

You jolt in her touch, you feel stuck in that moment. You can still hear her — your mother. Just like mama. "No, no! I'm not like you!" You gasp, but Raven still holds you.

She shushes you. "Shh, shh. It's okay. It's me, it's Raven." She murmurs, resting her chin on the top of your head.

"I'm not like her, Raven. I'm not..." You whisper, clinging on. "I'm not... I'm not." You repeat, like a mantra. Like you're trying to convince yourself. Your words trail off into a low, unintelligible murmur.

Raven keeps her hold on you, whispering reassuring words as she plays with your hair. "You're nothing like her, Watson." At this, you soften, shoulders relaxing.

"I'm not..."

—

"He's gone! The grounder is gone!" Miller's voice stops everyone in their tracks. You had been resting, like Raven told you to. She even tucked you in. You smiled at the thought. Anyways, Miller's voice disturbed your sleep. You peek your head out your tent to look around.

Everyone's chattering, afraid. "What if he brings other grounders back?"

"He'll kill us all." "Or worse!" They all start to group together in a panic.

"Let the grounders come." A voice interjects. Bellamy. "We've been afraid of them for far too long, and why? Because of their knives and spears? Well, I don't know about you. But I'm tired of being afraid."

At his words, you all look at each other in confusion. That is, until he drops the guns onto the ground. You raise your brows.

"These are weapons, okay, not toys. And we have to be prepared to give them up to the guards when the drop-ships come, but until then, they're gonna help keep us safe." Clarke speaks.

"There are plenty more where these came from." Bellamy adds, a look of newfound determination on his features. "Tomorrow we start training, and if the grounders come, we're gonna be ready to fight."

The group disperses after a while, feeling more confident. Clarke approaches you, a blanket in hand.

"Here. Consider it a thank you for keeping the camp safe."

You blink, pulling your teeth between your lips. "Okay, I'm gonna take it, because I'm, like, freezing. But, you should know, I didn't do anything." You admit, wrapping the blanket around yourself. "I was tripping on jobi nuts for most of it. Raven kept me in check, all of us, actually."

As you speak, your gaze trails over to her. She sits with Finn, chatting about something. When she looks over at you, she offers you a small smile. You return it, mouthing a thank you. You turn back to Clarke, noticing the conflicted expression on her face.

"Thanks for the blanket." You mutter, before walking off towards Octavia. She seems upset as Bellamy walks away from her.

"So... your friend's gone." You begin, testing the waters. Her jaw tightens, not meeting your gaze.

"Yeah." Is all she says, holding onto her blanket tighter. You blink, leaning against the makeshift wall around the camp.

"You did good, Octavia." Your words surprise her. She looks at you, eyes wide. Before she can disagree, or lie, you interrupt. "He didn't deserve to be tortured, grounder or not." You offer a sympathetic smile, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't listen to Bellamy."

At your words, she brightens. She smiles at you nervously. "Thanks you, Watson."

"Anytime."

Chapter Text

By no means were you a fan of Unity Day. You found it hypocritical that they celebrated the stations coming together, while they had exploded the 13th one. But Monty's moonshine helped. I mean, it was horrible, but it did the trick.

It was late at night when you decided to approach Raven. Granted, she was working away in her tent instead of having fun like everyone else. You admired how determined she was. Peeking your head into her tent, you accidentally interrupted a moment between her and Finn. You sensed tension.

"Oh. Um—" You clear your throat, and both heads turn to you. "I didn't mean to intrude, just—"

"It's fine, I was just leaving, anyway." Finn shoots you a tight lipped smile before moving past you. Your gaze is on him as he leaves, then back on Raven. A lot of tension.

"Uh... right. So, I wanted to thank you for yesterday." You stammer out. You didn't understand why you were so nervous. Then again, these emotions are new to you. You were rarely vulnerable around people.

Raven's tense demeanor softens, a smile gracing her features. "Thank me?" She shakes her head, dismissing it.

"No, really. You helped me, it was— The hallucination felt so real." You gulp, averting your gaze. Her smile only widens, eyes soft. "So thank you, seriously. You're uh— real nice..."

She laughs, shoulders rising up and down. You blink at her in confusion. Did you say something funny? Not that you were aware of. Noticing your expression, she giggles, in attempts to calm herself. "I'm sorry. You're just... so awkward." She sighs out one final chuckle.

You blink, still unsure of what exactly is so funny. "I don't usually do this whole heartfelt conversation thing." You explain.

"Yeah, I can tell." She smirks, leaning back. "Don't worry, it's cute."

You freeze. "I'm not... ah, never mind." You shake your head.

A beat of silence.

"Who were you talking about, anyway?" She tries, testing the waters. You gulp, tensing again. She notices. "Sorry. You don't have to tell me." She smiles, in attempts of comfort.

You shrug. "My mom." You try your hardest to seem unaffected, but your discomfort shows pretty easily. Raven's teasing expression softens once again.

"Your mom..." she repeats, quieter now, like trying to piece everything together.

You hadn't planned to talk about this. You're not sure why it's coming out now, but the words feel raw on your tongue. "Yeah," you admit, voice low. "She wasn't... easy to be around." You worded, wincing.

Raven nods in understanding. "I know the feeling." She says, after a beat of silence. "My mom wasn't exactly mother of the year, either."

Your gaze shifts back to her, expression slightly surprised. For a moment, the tension eases, replaced by a strange, quiet bond. She's not prying, not pushing you to explain, just letting you know you're not alone in a quiet understanding.

"Parents, huh? Who needs 'em?" You mutter, but it's not as playful as you wished. The words more so bitter as they come out. Raven lets out a chuckle, perhaps out of sympathy of your shitty joke.

"Preach it, sister."

—

"Watson!" Bellamy calls, pushing around some people. "Anyone seen Watson?" He asks, but everyone's either too drunk or they simply shrug. "Dammit, Watson?"

You raise a cup to your lips, face scrunching up as the crowd around you chants. "Chug, chug, chug!" And you do, or at least you try. You slam the cup back down on the table, wiping your mouth.

"That's how you do it." You grin, words slightly slurred. Your gaze turns to Bellamy, who looks both confused and disappointed.

"You're drunk?" He asks, unimpressed. You raise your eyebrows, offended by the question. You shake your head exaggeratedly.

"Tipsy, if you will." Your hand reaches out to grab another cup, but he stops you, slapping your hand away. "What the— Bellamy!"

"Tipsy's good enough. Watch over camp for me, yeah?" He's not really asking, more like ordering. The alcohol's making you feel a little bold, so you roll your eyes.

"Why do I always have to babysit?" You grumble, crossing your arms. "You should ask Miller. Hey, Miller—"

"Miller's drunk." Bellamy sighs, rubbing his face in annoyance. He was originally going to ask you to tag along, but you were in no state. He figured you could at least keep watch. "And I leave you in charge because you're responsible... Usually, I mean."

You yawn, obnoxiously loud. He stares at you unamused. "Alright, alright! I'll babysit the kids, tuck them in, make sure they don't die, blah blah blah." You sigh, waving your hands dismissively.

"Great. And no more drinks." Bellamy points at you, as if you were a child.

"Yeah, yeah." You mutter, rolling your eyes again as he walks away.

—

So, apparently, while you were drunk off your ass, Clarke and some others met up with the grounders. In attempts to make peace with them, you figured. While you were offended you weren't included, you were drunk so you understood. Still, though, babysitting a camp of drunk delinquents was another kind of challenge.

It's morning now and the camp is a mess. People either throwing up or groaning over their headaches, yourself included. But you had to be "responsible," as Bellamy so kindly reminded you.

You'd rather be napping, but instead, you're walking through camp, shoving water at people. "Hey! Drink water, Miller," you bark, forcing a cup into his hands. He groans in protest. "I'm helping you, dude." Miller grumbles something about a nap and wanders off

Your head's pounding like a hammer on metal, but someone has to keep this camp in order. You just wish ir wasn't you. You spot Harper leaning against a tree, holding her head in her hands. She groans as you hand her a cup of water. "Drink."

She takes it with a wince. "You don't have to be so bossy about it." You roll your eyes, walking off.

As she drinks, you survey the rest of the camp. People are scattered everywhere, groaning, passed out, or otherwise incapacitated. It's like babysitting a bunch of toddlers after a sugar rush, except with a lot more vomit.

You come across Miller again, who didn't make it into his tent. Instead, he leans against it, arm over his eyes. You notice his water cup is still full. You huff in annoyance.

"Miller, if you don't drink that damn water—"

"Alright, jeez." He grunts, grabbing the cup and chugging it. He sighs, appreciatively. "You should've been a doctor, Watson."

"I don't have the patience." You retort. This only confirms it. You're never having children.

Just when you think you've got things under control, you hear gunshots in the distance. So much for peace with the Grounders.

—

Bellamy and the group come back to camp, they were arguing about God knows what just outside the walls. It's dark out now, and by now you've already taken care of things. Everyone is doing a lot better.

You think you can finally rest, sleep like you deserve. And then you see the Exodus ship in the air. You're intrigued as you watch it. They're early.

But the ship is going too fast, you note. There's no parachute. And then, it crashes. There go the resources Jaha promised. Honestly, camp can't catch a break.

Chapter Text

As always you were back at camp while the others
checked out the Exodus shipped that had crashed. You figured you'd stay back, not like there was anyone you cared for on it. Bellamy didn't even tell you, you simply knew your role.

The people were back to normal, for the most part. It was time to get back to work anyway. You gave your orders, assigning shooters to their posts. The wall was built, but you still wanted to add more reinforcements.

Bellamy gave you the go-ahead to add spikes around the camp, so you did exactly that. Granted, they were wooden but some were hidden enough that it'd do the trick.

It was nighttime and the group still wasn't back yet. You would've grown worried, but you were preoccupied with Jasper's storytelling. Here he was, yapping about how he shot two grounders down, how he was afraid but he still shot, how— yeah you didn't buy it. You listened in, an amused smirk on your features:

"Somebody hit the trip wire!" You silently pat yourself on the back. The traps were your idea. Truly, would this camp function without you? ... Probably.

The crowd grows scared, worried it might be a grounder. The shooters stay on look out, but they see nothing. Then, more clattering.

"Something moved!"

"There, there, there!" He shoots twice. Your head whips around to look at him in shock. Who the hell shoots first without looking? Could've been one of us, you think, but you don't actually say it.

You follow Octavia out as she investigates. She's worried it might be Lincoln, you can tell.

"Guys, be careful." Connor says. Neither of you turn to him as you continue. Then, you spot it. Him? Her? Someone lying on the ground. Octavia crouches down slowly, touching their shoulder. They jolt, running — or crawling — away as fast as they can.

"No way." Derek mutters. And when you get a good look at the shivering figure, you realize.

"Murphy?" You ask, as he holds his arm out in fear.

—

You'd never seen him like that. I mean, yeah, he was always a bit bloody, thanks to all the fights he got in. But when you found him he was trembling in fear. You've only seen him afraid once before, while they were going to hang him. Your heart tightened at the thought.

You had all moved him into the drop-ship, planting him against a wall as he shivered. Before you could say anything, Bellamy storms in. "Where is he?" When he finally sees him, his discomfort is clear.

Murphy looks horrible, to put it bluntly.

"Everyone but Connor, Derek and Watson out... Now!" Bellamy demand, and everyone complies.

"He claims he was with the grounders." Derek informs. "We caught him trying to sneak back into camp." Connor adds.

"I wasn't sneaking." Murphy explains, "I was running from the grounders."

"Anyone see grounders?" Bellamy asks, defensively. When Derek and Connor answer no, he turns to you. "Watson?"

"No... but, I mean, look at him." You gesture towards the injured boy.

"Well, in that case." Bellamy points his gun at Murphy, and you immediately straighten.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hiss, standing in front of him. Bellamy glares down at you disapprovingly, but you don't back off.

"We were clear what could happen if he came back." He huffs, jaw tightening. "Move over, Watson." He grits out, grip tightening on his gun.

You scoff, "If he was with the grounders, then he knows things that can help us, genius."

Bellamy's eyes narrow as you crouch down next to Murphy to further inspect him. You can't stress this enough, he looks horrible. You wince, not being able to imagine the pain he's in.

His gaze is on you — it has been for a while now.

"Help us? We hanged him. We banished him, and now we're gonna kill him." It was times like these where you found Bellamy so annoying.

"No. Watson is right." Clarke finally speaks, you turn your attention towards her, while still crouching.

"Like hell she is!" Bellamy's not budging. "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

"I am thinking about her." She responds in the same tone. "But what happened to Charlotte was as much our fault as his."

You take his hands into yours, your stomach dropping at what you see. "He's not lying." You interrupt, "His fingernails were torn off. He was tortured." Your eyes stay on his hands. Your expression holds so much guilt. Murphy doesn't understand why.

"You and the grounders should compare notes." Finn remarks. If it were at a different time, you would've found him funny. But right now all you can focus on is Murphy. Your gaze trailing down to analyze his whole body, looking for any cuts or stabs.

"The grounders know we're at war." Bellamy's voice raises again, directed towards Murphy. "What did you tell them about us?" He asks impatiently.

There's a short pause before Murphy speaks. If you listen closely, you can hear his voice shake. "Everything."

You shut your eyes, head falling as sigh. "Shit."

The tension rises once again. Clarke turns back to Bellamy. "Once he's better, we find out what he knows, and then he's out of here, okay?"

"What if he refuses to leave? What do we do with him then?" Bellamy demands.

"Then we kill him." Clarke hesitated before she spoke, but with that she's gone, giving you no time to argue. You turn back to the boy, hands still holding his bound ones.

Despite everything, you hate seeing him like this.

Bellamy grunts in protest. You look over your shoulder. "Congrats, Watson. You're on Murphy duty." He follows after Clarke, once again leaving no room for argument.

Murphy's gaze never leaves yours, like he's searching for something — forgiveness, maybe. His eyes — or rather, eye — is wide. He's terrified.

"You should've let them hang me the first time." He mutters, trying to defuse the tension. You let go of his hands, swallowing hard.

"You say that now, but I don't think you mean it." Your tone is sharp, as you stand back up. You step away from him.

He lets out a hollow laugh, bitter. "You have no idea what I've been through."

You don't answer immediately, scattering around the drop-ship searching for a cloth. You know he's still looking at you, but you pay it no attention.

You hear a commotion outside. Your eyes narrow as you peek your head out the drop-ship door. People coughing, throwing up, even. When you turn back to Murphy, he's throwing up blood. Your eyes widen.

You run back to his side. "Clarke! Clarke!" You yell out, and the girl runs into the drop-ship, directly at Murphy. "What the hell is going on?"

She crouches next to where you stand, inspecting Murphy.

"Murphy, hey, look at me." Clarke speaks, and he does, panting. He looks like he's about to throw up again. "I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the grounders. What happened?"

His breathing is ragged. "I don't know, I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off." He rambles, sniffling as he holds his stomach.

Clarke seems to realize something. "They let you go."

In comes Bellamy, and you already know he's pissed. Gun in hand, he approaches you three. "Bellamy, stay back." Clarke orders before he can get too close.

"Did he do something to you?" He asks, glaring.

She shakes her head no. You're too busy analyzing Murphy to care. You crouch again, hand on his back. "Breathe, come on, you're good." You whisper.

"What the hell is this?"

There's a slight pause. You hear Murphy catching his breath, your hand still on his back. Clarke looks up at Bellamy.

"Biological warfare. You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it." Clarke explains. "Murphy is the weapon."

—

"Is this your revenge, helping the grounders kill us?" Bellamy spat. You shut your eyes, annoyed. This isn't helping Murphy's condition at all.

"I didn't know about this, okay, I swear." Murphy's weak voice responds, your eyes soften. You can tell he's telling the truth. Bellamy, not so much.

"Stop lying! When are they coming?" He demands.

"Murphy, think, all right? What can you tell us that's useful?" Clarke speaks, but he doesn't look at her. Only at you, your soft eyes, and your worried expression. Still, Clarke continues. "Did you hear anything?"

Murphy merely shakes his head, still looking at you. "They are vicious. Cruel."

"You want to see vicious?" Bellamy's patience is thinning as he takes a step forward.

"Hey, don't. Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact." Clarke informs. You blink. Well shit. You may or may not be screwed.

Finn runs into the drop-ship. "Clarke?"

"Finn, you shouldn't be in here. No one should." Clarke tells him, but he shakes his head.

"I heard you were sick."

She looks back down, worried.

"Clarke, what is this?"

"I don't know. Some kind of hemorrhagic fever." She explains, "We just need to contain it before—" She's cut off as Derek drops down, writhing in pain.

He coughs out in pain, trying to breathe.

"What the hell is happening?" You look over your shoulder to get a look. He throws up blood, so much blood. Then, the coughing stops as he drops down.

"Is he—"

"He's dead."

There's a beat of silence, as the group seems to understand the danger now. Clarke says the best option is to quarantine. They scatter off to find everyone that's been in contact with Murphy. You look over at Clarke, who returns your gaze.

"We stay here. Your symptoms might start soon." She informs you. You nod slowly, but Murphy's cough captures your attention again.

Everyone's brought in, Octavia included as Clarke checks up on her. You help Clarke, checking up on everyone, despite risking getting sick. You approach Connor, who sits against the wall, his eyes heavy as he tries to stay awake.

"Connor, bud, you good?" You ask gently, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. His eyes snap open. He lets out a gross cough as you scrunch up your face. "Lovely."

Unbeknownst to you, Murphy watches you. He regrets it, nearly hurting you. The only person he actually likes to be around, and he almost hurt you. He was never going to kill you, he was bluffing. You have to know that. He has to tell you.

—

You feel fine. No symptoms whatsoever. Still, Clarke tells you it's best to stay in the drop-ship, just to be safe. Not that you minded, she clearly needed the help.

"Stay here." You murmur before standing back up. You walk around a couple people who sit across the floor, picking up the rag and bucket of water you discarded earlier.

"Not like I can move." You hear Murphy snark, prompting you to roll your eyes. When you return, you sit right next to him, tucking your legs beneath you. You bring the rag up to his face, gently wiping off the blood.

Murphy can't seem to look away. Truly, it's like you have him in some trance. He likes how focused you look. He's never told you this, but he thinks you're beautiful.

When you tilt his head to the side, he seems to snap out of it, finally looking elsewhere. "Do these hurt?" You ask, dabbing the rag as softly as you can.

"No." But he winces when you apply too much pressure. You shoot him a look of disapproval, to which he chuckles at. "Maybe."

You hum, dipping the rag back into the bucket. You twist it to get rid of the blood. His eyes are still on you, you can feel them. When you meet his gaze, you're surprised at the soft look.

"I wasn't going to kill you." He mutters, blinking slowly. "I wasn't —" He trails off, his gaze falling to the floor. You keep quiet, unsure if he's looking for forgiveness or merely stating a fact. But judging from his desperate tone...

A heavy silence stretches between you both, interrupted only by the faint sounds of pained breathing from across the drop-ship.

Finally, you manage. "You should rest. You need it."

Murphy scoffs slightly, though it lacks its usual bite. He just nods, shifting uncomfortably. You stay there for a moment, watching his breathing slow, and you feel a pang of something you don't want to name.

Then, just as quietly, you stand up and turn away, leaving him with his own thoughts.

—

"The virus doesn't last long." Octavia informs, according to what Lincoln told her.

"It's true. I feel better." Murphy adds. You're checking up on the others since he insisted he was fine to move on his own. You think he's trying to seem tough, independent.

Murphy volunteers to help Octavia hydrate everyone.

"Look, at this rate, when the grounders get here they won't be anyone left to fight back."

"That's the point." Octavia says, as she holds a cup up to someone's chin.

"Then we slow them down." Finn exits the drop-ship in a hurry. You're left wondering what he's thinking.

Octavia turns back to you, watching as you place your hand on a boy's forehead, checking his temperature. "Looks like you're immune, too."

"Guess so." You mutter, giving the boy some water. You look over your shoulder. "Jasper and Monty are good, right? Not sick?" You feel the need to ask.

"They're fine. Worried, but fine." Octavia reassures. Murphy finds it surprising you ask about them. Things had changed since he left apparently. You were closer with those two.

You hum in acknowledgment, happy to know that your two friends are doing good. Murphy's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything.

—

Bellamy caught the virus. Shocker, you think, with a long sigh. By now, Murphy's doing good, helping you and Octavia care for the sick.

"Bell? No. Clear some space!" Octavia commands, immediately at her brother's side. "Lay him down." You think their interaction is sweet. It sorta helps while you deal with the grossness of the virus.

A while later, Murphy approaches Bellamy with a cup of water. "Here." He offers, like some sort of truce. Bellamy pushes his hand away.

"Get the hell away from me."

"Bellamy, you're sick, okay? I'm just trying to help." Murphy defends, passing him a rag. "Here."

"When I get better, if you're still here, Watson be damned, I'll—" Clarke cuts him off. You had overheard the conversation, eyes narrowed.

"Hey, I got this one." She interjects.

Murphy saunters over to you hesitantly. You stand in a corner, eyes alert as you make sure no one's dying. You spare him a side glance.

"Look at you, playing doctor." He tries to engage in your usual banter. You won't lie, you missed it. But things are different now.

Still, you respond. "Miller said the same thing the other day. I don't see it. I've got no patience." You respond dryly. Murphy smirks, tilting his head.

"You were plenty patient with me."

There's a pause, where silence stretches over both of you once again. You don't know what to say. Your gaze shifts away from him, as you swallow hard. You don't mean to be awkward, but it's hard not to be.

When you don't respond, he shifts slightly. His voice is slightly above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Watson." He sounds genuine, this tone isn't something you've heard coming from him.

Your gaze finds him once again. You analyze him carefully, taking in his words. But he's only looking at the cut on your neck. It's small, and it probably won't scar, but his eyes are still trained on it. Regret swirling in them.

You exhale, "It's just a scratch." You brush off. It was no secret that you hated talking about feelings. Apologies, comfort, emotion? Not your usual thing. Although, things seem to be changing as of late.

He swallows, "Still." He mutters, finally meeting your eyes. He's still messed up, face all scratched and bloody. "I never meant to hurt you." You know he's genuine, at least you want to believe he is. His soft tone is enough to send you spiraling.

"I know."

—

There's an explosion outside. You play doctor for one day and they go off and blow something up without you. The audacity.

The crowd of people in the drop-ship decide to check out the explosion, shuffling outside.

"There! It's them! Open the gate!"

Jasper and Monty walk in, looking proud (and smug) as hell. They savor the attention. You think it's hilariously adorable. Finn and Raven follow closely behind, you notice she's bleeding through her nose. She caught the virus, it seems.

Back inside the drop-ship, Raven lays on a hammock as she mutters to Finn. You, once again, sense tension between the two. Sat next to Murphy, your eyes on Raven's figure. Murphy doesn't say anything, but he notices your worried gaze.

When Finn leaves Raven's side, you stand up. Walking over to the girl. She opens her eyes again, squinting. When she realizes it's you, she smiles.

"Hey there pretty lady." You smirk, crossing your arms. "You come here often?" She snorts, holding her stomach.

"Nope." Her dry response makes you giggle.

"You're a serious badass, y'know." You say, after your laughter dies down. "You were sick, yet you still went to place the bomb. You're, like, my hero." At your words, she laughs again, rolling her eyes.

"You're annoying." She responds, but the smile on her face says otherwise. "Had fun in here?"

"God, no. It's miserable." You try to speak in a monotone voice, but fail as your grin seeps into your words.

"You can leave, y'know."

You shake your head, smile still on your features. Murphy's still in here, is your silent response. You'd never admit it. To him or to yourself. But you're still watching out for him, even if he's practically cured by now.

"Then who will take care of you, pretty lady?" You smirk.

"Are we about to kiss right now?"

Chapter Text

"You don't want the fire too big, so maybe just knock it down with some wet leaves." You overhear Octavia say as you organize the ammo.

"You get that from your boyfriend, grounder pounder?"

"She's right." Murphy speaks up. "A hot fire isn't gonna preserve meat as well."

"You can't take the heat, get out of the smokehouse." You don't know whose voice that is, but what you do know is that they're an idiot. You don't intervene, you're busy. "You should be kissing our asses for being allowed back in this camp. Just keep working."

Your eye twitches. Like, literally twitches. You won't get involved because you can't go around defending Murphy the whole day. He can take care of himself. But my God, people were annoying.

"So... Murphy's back." Jasper's voice sneaks up on you. You turn to him, expecting him to continue. He shrugs at your expression. "You gonna abandon Monty and I now?" His voice is light, so you know he's joking.

You roll your eyes. "Shouldn't you be helping Raven with the bullets?"

Jasper lets out a dramatic gasp, a hand over his chest. "You didn't deny it. I see how it is."

You blink at him, unimpressed. Before you can respond, you see it. The fire grew. Jasper turns as well, eyes widening.

You jog over, taking in the scene. Octavia's on the ground. You're about to check up on her when Murphy gets up, shoving Del back angrily. "This is all your fault! We told you it was too much wood!"

"Get the hell away from me!" The responds with a shove of his own. Now, you've never been compelled to get in between a fight. But Murphy is supposed to be behaving. They gave him a chance, brought him back to camp. Is he about to throw it all away because he can't control his anger?

Thankfully Bellamy separates the two. You move over to Murphy's side, grabbing his arm as he tries to push past Bellamy.

"Hey, stop! Save it for the grounders." Bellamy commands, voice rough. But Murphy's looking down at you, and your furrowed brows as you analyze the scene.

"Bell, now what the hell are we gonna do? That was all the food!"

—

"Why do you keep getting yourself into shit? Have you forgotten you were banished because of this same behavior?" You ask, and you know your words are harsh. But it's because you're worried. Afraid that they'll cast him out again. Your sharp eyes meet his, and you don't miss the way he rolls them.

His jaw is set as he speaks. "I didn't start it."

You cross your arms. "No, but you sure as hell escalated it. You're here because they gave you another chance. You think Bellamy's gonna keep you around if you keep this up?"

When he doesn't respond, merely shifting his eyes away, you continue. "You're playing with fire. Literally and figuratively. One more screw up and I can't save you. You'd be out again."

His gaze flickers with defiance. "Don't need saving." He brushes off.

You pause, frustration growing. At some point in your life you promised yourself you'd be more patient. Murphy is making this promise impossible. "Why do I bother?" You grit, turning away. You mutter something else to yourself in disbelief.

Murphy's eyes stay on your back as you walk away, they soften. Perhaps in regret. The truth is he really should be kissing ass. They let him back in — you let him back in. So why is he jeopardizing that? Jeopardizing you?

—

Your two leaders had decided that you had to go out and hunt. Bellamy informed everyone that the guns were for grounders, if you found any. The spears were for hunting.

"Watson." He approaches, hand on your arm. You look down at his touch, confused.

"Yeah?"

He sighs, as if he's sorry to ask you. "I need you to babysit Murphy." You blink. Of course. You expected it, really. Who else would?

"Sure." You shrug, spear in hand. "Don't I always?" His eyes narrow, looking at the spear.

"You'll need a gun in case you encounter grounders."

You sigh in annoyance. "I think I'd do better with a spear."

"I can take the gun." Murphy cuts in, his usual smirk appearing as he slides up next to you.

Bellamy doesn't dignify that with a glance. "Not happening. Watson takes the gun, you can take the spear." He speaks, and there's no room for arguing. His expression softens slightly. "Come back before it's dark, alright?"

Murphy scoffs at the exchange.

You nod, but then raise a brow."Wait, it's just us two? I thought we were supposed to go in groups?" You ask, looking around as the rest are doing just that. Bellamy grimaces, and you know you're not gonna like what he says next.

"Yeah, no one wants to be with Murphy." He confirms your suspicions. "Except for you."

"How lovely." You mutter, taking the gun from him. You hand Murphy the spear with a sour expression. "Let's go."

—

You move through the forrest, Murphy trailing slightly behind. He's quiet, for once, but you know him well enough to sense the tension.

After a while, you decide to break the silence. "Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?" He asks, not looking up.

"Get yourself into shit." You pause for a second, feeling the weight of your words. "Make things harder for yourself. Like you need to prove something."

Murphy scoffs, shaking his head. "I'm not proving anything. What's the point? They've already decided I'm the enemy."

"Maybe they have," you admit, stopping to face him. "But I haven't."

This makes him pause. His eyes narrow, searching yours. "Why do you care so much?"

You blink, surprised. "I don't know..." your grip on the gun tightens as you swallow harshly. "I don't like watching you get hurt, I guess. I don't like the way people treat you." You shrug, downplaying your words.

You aren't aware, but Murphy's stomach fills with a strange feeling. He maintains the eye contact for another second or two, before looking away. "It doesn't matter." He shrugs, his guard back up.

"It does to me." You mutter. You don't know why you're fighting this, really. You think you've grown to like Murphy, and this feeling only grew in his absence.

"You don't know me as well as you think." He said, and it reminded you of before he was banished. It hurt, but that was the goal. Your demeanor falters, taking his words in. You were growing tired of him pushing you away.

"Whatever." Your heart aches as you speak. You make sure not to look at him when you do. He doesn't respond, or, he doesn't have the chance to when you notice a deer in the distance.

There it is again. The regret he feels every time he pushes you away. He doesn't understand why he feels that way. It's like hearing the disappointment in your voice hurts him, he wants to take it back desperately.

—

Back at camp, you and Murphy deliver the now dead deer to Bellamy. He's surprised you actually caught something, but thankful nonetheless. Murphy's working on chopping up whatever was caught today. Out of the corner of your eye you see Raven walking over to Bellamy's tent. Your eyebrows raise, but you don't comment.

You sit nearby the fire, instead of your usual tree stump. You feel someone creeping up behind you, maybe trying to scare you, but they step on a tree branch. You whip your head around to find the culprit.

"Jasper, what the hell." You grumble, glaring at the boy who merely grins at you. He takes a seat next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

"Heard you caught a deer today. Gotta say, not a fan of eating them but they're cute little guys." He speaks, lifting the tension around you.

"Can't be picky nowadays." You retort, eyes on the fire as it crackles away. "Where's Monty?"

"Am I not enough for you?" His dramatic expression is enough to make you laugh, eyes crinkling as you do.

As you and Jasper continue your conversation, you don't notice a certain someone watching you. His blue eyes admiring the way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches up as you do. The way you punch Jasper's arm as he makes another stupid joke. Murphy's jaw tightens at the scene.

A while later, Raven approaches you. Jasper's long gone by now, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to look at the girl. "Finn and Clarke are missing." She exhales, her anxiety visible.

You stand up, holding her arms in attempts to soothe her. It doesn't work. "What?"

"They should've been back hours ago! They're gone."

Bellamy gathers a couple people to search for them. Octavia, Raven, Monty and himself. He, as he always does, leaves you in charge of camp.

You sit back down, in front of the fire. You were worried, obviously. You hadn't spent much time with Clarke nor Finn, but they were still a part of camp. You can't shake the feeling that something is off.

A moment later, you sense someone beside you. You half expect it to be Jasper, but when you look up, you find Murphy with an unreadable expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He huffs, sitting down next to you.

"Just worried." You shrug, hugging your knees. Murphy watches you, studying your body language. When you look back at him, he averts his gaze. You smile, knowing you caught him.

You scan his face carefully. "Your wounds are healing nicely." You murmur, eyes on the dried blood on his cheek. You wipe it away with your thumb. For a moment, you forgot where you were, and who you held softly.

You drop your hand as you realize. You stare back at the fire. You decide it's best not to comment on it. The tension hangs in the air like the smoke from the fire. Murphy shifts slightly, his expression unreadable.

"I can take care of myself, y'know," he says, a tad defensive. "Don't need you fussing over me."

You falter, your breath catching. The way he brushes you off hurts, as it always does. Especially when these new feelings are just as foreign to you. Your cheeks feel warm in embarrassment, but you brush it off as if it were because of the fire.

He notices your shift, "Didn't mean it like that." he adds, and you can hear the regret in his voice. He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours, as if trying to take back the earlier sting of his words. Only you don't meet his gaze. "I—"

You lean back slightly, putting some distance between you. "Whatever." You say, because what else are you meant to respond with? You're sick of this. Sick of caring for him only for him to deny you, to push you away. "I get it. You don't need anyone, Mr. Independent." You snap, annoyed.

Why are feelings so difficult?

Murphy desperately wants to tell you he does need you. He wants to take back his words, to reassure you. He's too scared to. Still, he tries. "That's not what I meant, Watson."

You glance at him, skeptical. "Then what did you mean?"

Murphy shifts again, "I'm not used to this."

Your eyes narrow. "To what?" Your tone stays defensive, but softer now, almost wary.

He opens his mouth, then hesitates, glancing down. His hand makes an awkward gesture, somewhere between you two, as though that explains everything.
You understand rather quickly. The silence stretches, and for a brief moment, neither of you move.

You don't know how it happens, but suddenly you're closer than you realized. His eyes meet yours again, a flicker of hesitation mixed with something else. Your heart thuds, waiting, wondering what he'll do. His gaze dips to your lips, then back to your eyes, and for a moment you think he might—

But he pulls back, breaking the spell. His guard snaps back up, and he clears his throat. The moment slips away, like sand through your fingers. You can feel a mix of disappointment and confusion. Neither of you speak.

Like nothing happened, you both turn back to the fire.

Chapter Text

The group came back. You perked up when you heard them, but there was no sight of Clarke or Finn. Just Myles. At least you found one, you supposed. But taking a better look, you notice Monty's missing.

Suddenly, there's a gunshot. Poor kid fell asleep, accidentally pulled the trigger. Bellamy marches over, beyond pissed off. The stress is getting to him.

"Hey! What the hell's the matter with you?" He barks.

"I'm sorry, man. I fell asleep." The guy stammers. "I've been on watch all day." This angers Bellamy further. He pushes him up against the tree.

"We've all been on watch all day! That bullet was one less dead grounder."

Octavia intervenes, or tries to. "Bell, you're scaring people."

"They should be scared!" He lets the kid go, turning back to the crowd. "The bomb on the bridge bought us some time to prepare, but that time is up! The grounders are out there right now, waiting for us to leave and picking us off one by one when we do!"

Everyone exchanges fearful glances. You look over at a nervous Jasper. You sigh. While Bellamy's words are true, this is no good for morale.

"Clarke, Finn, and Monty are gone, probably dead," Bellamy pants. "And if you want to be next, I can't stop you, but no guns are leaving this camp! This camp is the only thing keeping us alive!" He huffs, taking a moment to try to compose himself.

"Everyone, get back to work!" You order, stepping in. He's stressed so you figure you'd help. He seems to appreciate it as he walks off, his expression never changing.

You turn back to Raven and Jasper, a sympathetic look on your face. "Don't listen to him. He's just stressed out." The two don't look as convinced, but they nod nonetheless.

—

You follow Jasper into the drop-ship, since Raven needed more gunpowder. You're on the second level as you pour it into a container. "I just can't believe he won't let us go after them." Jasper rambles as you pour. You feel for him, truly. You care about them, and you're worried but part of you thinks Bellamy is right.

You simply nod, opting to listen to the boy. "When Octavia was missing, he didn't stop until he found her!" He sighs, exasperated. Your eyes soften as you look at him.

You hear some muffled sounds on the lower floor, so you climb down the ladder to investigate. Lo and behold, there Murphy is, with a plastic bag over Myles' head. Your jaw drops as he freezes when he sees you. You climb all the way down, because Jasper had told you to hurry up.

As he follows you down, he witnesses it too.

"He stopped breathing. I was just– I was trying to help him." Murphy tries to excuse, as he looks between you two in a panic. Like a child getting caught doing something wrong. Jasper offers him a nod, though you know he's not convinced, as he climbs all the way down the ladder.

You're still in utter shock. You look like a fish out of water as you stare at the now dead Myles on the table. Murphy and Jasper race towards the gun, but Murphy grabs it first. He points it at Jasper. You whip your head around, taking a step back.

"Murphy, just put the gun down." Jasper tries to reason, his hand stretched out in front of him. Murphy stares at him for a moment, before turning back to you as if looking for reassurance.

You're still baffled by the scene, eyebrows furrowed as you shut your mouth. Your eyes are flickering between the dead kid, Murphy, and Jasper. When you notice Murphy's gaze, you return it.

"He tried to kill me." He justifies. Jasper takes a step back. "Hey, don't move!" He raises the gun at Jasper and you suddenly snap awake.

"Murphy, put it down." You extend a hand towards him, but he turns back to you, gun still raised. He's aiming at you. His eyes are conflicted as he does. You're afraid. Maybe not of him but of the situation you're in. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Your hands fly up.

"Okay, okay." Jasper breathes, grabbing Murphy's attention once again. "It's cool." He tries to play it off.

"No, it's not." Murphy shakes his head. "You know what'll happen to me if you tell Bellamy."

"Tell Bellamy what?" His voice speaks on the walkie-talkie.

There's a moment where no one moves. Jasper seems to be weighing out his options as Murphy aims at him. Jasper's hand reaches for the radio slowly. "Jasper!" You whisper-shout, as if Murphy isn't standing right in front of you.

"Give me the radio, Jasper." Murphy commands. Jasper starts to take it out of his pocket, slowly but surely. Then he brings it up to his mouth.

"Murphy has a gun. He killed Myles—" Jasper's message goes through, but Murphy smacks him
in the face with the gun, effectively knocking him down.

When you're about to run over to Jasper's side, he stops you in your tracks, gun back towards you. "Don't move. I don't wanna hurt you, Watson."

You raise your hands slightly, to show him you're no threat. "I just— let me get to Jasper." But he takes a menacing step forward. "Okay, okay! I won't. Just... calm down."

While still aiming at you, he walks backwards to close the drop-ship's door. You stay in place, a few feet away from Jasper. You look down at the walkie-talkie, as if contemplating your next move.

"Murphy! Open the damn door!" You hear Bellamy yell from outside.

"You try to be a hero, Jasper dies!" Murphy yells back, not once faltering. The door shuts, and you're left with an unconscious Jasper and Murphy with a gun.

He takes a couple of steps forward, grabbing the walkie-talkie.

It takes you a moment to process everything. It all escalated so quickly. Murphy won't look you in the eye, he's ashamed. You turn to Jasper, unsure if you can move or not.

"Murphy..."

"Not in the mood for a lecture, Watson." He spat. You take a step back, your mind racing. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest. He had lowered his gun, which you were thankful for.

"Just put the gun down." You urge, your voice laced with concern. "This isn't going to solve anything."

"This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to see me." He grits, running a hand through his hair. He knows he's screwed now. Bellamy'll kill him.

"Why the hell did you even kill Myles?" You hiss, and it's much angrier than you intended.

"He tried to kill me!" He says again, equally as stressed. "He tied the knot they used to hang me."

"Oh my God, Murphy! You can't just kill everyone involved!" Your frustration is evident as you speak. You slowly start to realize that you hadn't seen Connor since the day Murphy came back. He scoffs at you, which only angers you even more.

He stays silent for a while, hand gripping the gun slightly tighter. "You don't get it." Is all he mutters.

—

Bellamy speaks through the walkie-talkie. "Murphy, I know you can hear me. All our ammo and food is in the middle level, you know that. You're leaving us vulnerable to an attack. I can't let that happen."

Murphy grabs the walkie. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly in control right now."

"Come on, Murphy. You don't want to hurt Jasper. Much less Watson." At Bellamy's words, Murphy looks over where you sit. You're resting your head on Jasper's shoulder. His jaw clenches at the scene, his hand twitching around the gun. "You want to hurt me."

"So what do you say? How about you trade them for me?" Bellamy speaks once again. "All you have to do, is let them go, and i'll take their place."

Jasper's eyes widen as Murphy looks over with his signature smirk. "How?"

You shut your eyes, knowing this won't end well. You raise your head to get a better look at him.

"Simple. You open the door, I walk in, they walk out." Murphy considers it for a moment, watching the two of you. Your eyes are pleading as he looks into them.

He approaches you, crouching down. Jasper flinches, shutting his eyes. You're not as affected, well, if you are you hide it. "I' didn't mean for this to happen." He says, and your eyes find his in confusion. He addresses you and only you, in a whisper. Despite your confusion, you nod.

Then, he opens the door. You help Jasper up, holding onto his arm. As you two approach the door, Murphy yells. "Just you, Bellamy, unarmed! 10 seconds, or I'll put one in Jasper's leg!"

You grip his arm tighter. Despite the threat, you'll
make sure nothing happens to Jasper. Even if he shoots you instead.

As he starts to countdown, Bellamy speaks. "I'm here." And he comes in. He sees you and Jasper, before his gaze finds Murphy. You help the boy out, fearing for what comes next.

The door shuts once you two are out.

—

"You think they're just gonna let you walk out of here?" Bellamy asks, holding the rope.

"Well, I think the princess is dead." Murphy responds bluntly, looking back up at him. "And I know the king's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh?"

"You're forgetting Watson." Bellamy retorts, noticing the shift in Murphy's eyes as he uttered those words. "She won't let that happen."

"Watson understands me. She'll see things my way eventually." Murphy simply shrugs, pushing away whatever feelings your name caused him.

"You're wrong. She won't forgive you for this." Bellamy's words are certain. He knows you and Murphy are somewhat close, but he also knows you care for the people in camp. It's why he leaves you in charge. And if he were to die today, he'd trust you'd stop Murphy.

For a moment, Murphy's hand twitches around the gun, as if your presence, even in your absence, holds a sway over him. Because he knows Bellamy's right. You've been plenty patient with Murphy until now. But this? This crosses a line.

And he knows it.

—

He was gone. You're not entirely sure what happened after you left the drop-ship. You'd heard two gunshots, but ultimately Bellamy was fine. Hung, and nearly dead, but fine. Murphy had fled to the second floor.

There was an explosion on the second floor. He shot the damn gunpowder, making a hole in the wall and escaping.

You stand with Bellamy and Jasper, inspecting said explosion. "Guy knows how to make an exit." Jasper mumbles. You catch sight of Murphy, eyes trained on him as he turns back for a moment.

He sees you. Whatever smug expression he had fades for a moment. It's a silent apology, one you don't dignify with any sort of response. Your face remains the same, even when he turns back around to run away.

"Should we go after him?" Jasper asks, and you pray Bellamy refuses. As pissed off as you are, you still don't want Murphy dead. For some odd reason.

"No." Phew. "The grounders will take care of Murphy. We're going after Clarke, Finn, and Monty." A pause. "You and Raven were right. We don't abandon our own."

Jasper looks thankful as Bellamy continues. "Two guns, Jasper and I. That's it. Watson—"

"I'll watch over camp." You interrupt, already aware of your role. You offer a small smile as he nods at you.

"Raven stays here to build up defenses. We lost a day because of this, and our gunpowder. Raven!" Before Bellamy can leave, Jasper stops him.

"Bellamy, wait. Look, I just..." Jasper pulls Bellamy in for a hug. "Thank you." He murmurs before pulling away. Bellamy simply looks confused as hell, not expecting such. "Long way from whatever the hell you want." With that, Jasper leaves. You two are left alone.

"Glad you're alive, bossman," you grin, extending your hand for a handshake, only to be pulled into a hug instead. Your breath catches at the unexpected gesture, but you return it, feeling the unspoken weight in it—maybe for Murphy, maybe for everything else.

It's silent until he pulls away. You both share a look of understanding.

"Look at you getting all sentimental." Your grin returns as you tease him. Then, Miller speaks on the walkie.

"All gunners! We got movement outside the south wall!"

—

Clarke and Finn returned. Still, no Monty. But they inform the group that there's an army of grounders on the way to camp. Finn says the camp needs to evacuate, but Bellamy doesn't agree. He prefers to fight.

Clarke decides that the camp will evacuate, despite Bellamy's words. They all listen to her, scattering off to collect their things.

Chapter Text

You stand at the edge of the camp, your fingers brushing over the crude map you'd drawn, trying to memorize it as best as you could. But your mind keeps wandering back to the conversation with Bellamy earlier. If you stay, you're almost certain you'll lose people. Then, your thoughts wander to a certain blue eyes boy. His apology was still ringing in your ears, and you hated that it left a mark.

He ignored every single warning you gave him. You thought you were getting through to him, that he'd finally listen to you. You were wrong, obviously. At this point, you think you've given up trying with him. As much as you care about him, it's clear he won't listen to you.

The group leaves camp. You're to the front, near Jasper as you help with navigation. Bellamy insisted you carry a gun, even if you know you won't shoot it. You complied, however, being in no mood to argue.

"You know the first thing I'm gonna do when we get to the beach?" Miller asks. You and Jasper both turn to him.

"No. What?"

"I wanna go surfing." At his response, you snort. Perhaps this is a new chance at freedom, without having to worry about grounders attacking. Maybe this is what you all needed. You just wish Murphy would be here with you.

"Quiet. Keep your eyes open." Jasper mumbles, on high alert. Octavia suddenly stops walking, and you all follow. Your eyes travel to look at your surrounding, narrowing in confusion.

"I don't see anything."

Then, a blade flies out, directly hitting a kid in the head. Everyone steps back in shock, the gunners holding onto their weapons tightly.

"Grounders!" Jasper yells as loud as he can.

Next thing you know you've fled back to camp. Maybe Bellamy was right, you should've fought from the start, instead of fleeing. A little late for that now. The gunners get back into position, as Octavia shuts the gate.

Your two leaders start to consider your options, deciding what's best for everyone. You all turn to Clarke, waiting for her instructions. She turns back to the forrest for a moment as she thinks.

"Looks like you've got your fight."

—

You're not a gunner. Not usually. But here you sit, next to Sterling as you grip your gun. By no means are you excited for what happens next. Truly, you're more of a pacifist, or you prefer to fight with your words but—

"I—I see them!" Sterling interrupts your train of thought. "They're moving! I count one, two three— No wait, there's more! I don't know—"

"There's a shitload of them!" You speak into the walkie, cutting Sterling's ramble off. Your attention is drawn by two grounders. You aim at one, shooting without hesitation. Sterling takes the other.

"Report south foxhole! Report!" Bellamy's voice speaks through the walkie, your shoulders relax as the two grounders fall.

"We're good. They didn't attack." You inform, eyes alert. "It's like shooting ghosts."

As the gunshots ring out, your hand trembles on the gun. You're not sure if it's the adrenaline, the fear, or something deeper. Each shot you take is surprisingly precise, which shocks you because you're no good with a gun. You can feel a pit growing in your stomach. By no means do you like shooting at people, but you remind yourself it's to protect the camp— your people.

You hear an explosion in the distance. Guess Raven's mines actually worked.

"The grounders are not attacking, they're making us waste bullets. Don't shoot when they're running laterally!" Jaspers voice speaks through the radio.

It's like the grounders heard him, because a moment later they actually start to attack and it's chaos. You and Sterling try to hold them off but there's too many of them.

"We have to fall back! There's too many!" You yell at Sterling, but his eyes are trained in front of him. He shoots, taking out two. "Sterling we're running out of ammo, let's go!" You grit.

But Clarke says they still need more time. You curse under your breath. Easy for her to say when she's safe on the inside. "Gunners stay in your posts!"

It all happens so quick. You see a ship — the ark? — coming down from the sky. It's like everyone pauses, the grounders too, to observe the ship. After a short moment of silence, you hear a grounder yell. "Take down the gate." They comply, until they hear some odd shouting in the distance. It starts getting closer.

"Reapers!"

The grounders are preoccupied now. Thankfully so, it buys Raven more time. You're not entirely sure what a reaper even is, but if the grounders are scared of them, then you are too. You pant, pulling Sterling up and dragging him back towards the middle of camp.

But the grounders aren't busy for long. After they've taken most of the reapers out, their attention is back on camp. "Now to the wall!"

You and Sterling manage to shoot down a couple of grounders while on the move. You were out of ammo, and the grounders were taking down the wall. Pretty easily, actually. You silently curse at yourself. You should've made it sturdier, stronger.

You reloaded your gun, taking a different position. It's like a bloody war zone, well... it is but, you know. Someone throws a grenade, and do they pack a serious punch.

A grounder runs at you, full speed. You struggle with your gun before raising it again, shooting him straight in the chest. He falls back with a groan. Your whip around as another approaches.

The battle rages on, and it's all turning into a blur of noise, screams, and gunfire. You're pushing yourself harder than ever, determined to push back the grounders as long as possible. You reload your gun, glancing at Sterling, who's fallen back to a different post.

Before you can react, an explosion goes off too close for comfort.

The force slams into you like a damn train, throwing you through the air. You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. For a second, you ponder if you were seriously hurt, but the adrenaline kicks in and pushes the pain away. You force yourself to sit up, gasping for air as you do.

Your ears are ringing, the battle is muffled in the distance. The dropship. Your eyes widen, and you scramble to your feet, head spinning. Your vision is blurry, but you can see the doors closing. Shit. Shit!

You take a step forward, but your legs falter. You fall.

The grounders don't see you, at least. Far too busy with trying to find a way into the drop-ship. Part of you is thankful you're far enough so they don't spot you. But you'd much rather be inside, presumably safe.

You press your back against a tree for cover, plopping down as your legs give out. The last thing you see is fire. Barbecued grounders, as Bellamy would say. Your vision goes black.

—

Chapter Text

Where the hell are you?

Your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the sun. It's daytime now. How long were you out? You're not sure. Blinking, you wince at the pain shooting through your limbs.

You groan softly, the sound barely escaping your lips as you lift your head. The forest is still—too still. The battle was over. Your vision blurs as you force yourself to move, your muscles stiff and bruised from the explosion.

Where are the others? If the plan worked, then...

The drop-ship.

You push yourself to your feet, swaying as dizziness takes over for a moment. You clutch the tree for support, catching your breath

Stumbling forward, you start to make your way through the forest. You were swaying a lot, and you know it.

Eventually, the drop-ship comes into view. You stumble closer, nearly tripping as you do. Your heart pounds as you take in the sight. Bodies, burned and torn, scattered everywhere. You move past them, approaching the dropship door. It's open, and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Pushing past the door, you're met with Raven pointing a gun at you. At least, you think. Your vision is still pretty blurry. Before you can say anything, she speaks for you. "Watson?" She sounds relieved, trying to laugh but she's met with pain. She winces.

"Raven?" You grumble, stepping closer. At least, you try before you fall to your knees right next to her. You groan, shutting your eyes as the ringing in your ears returns. You're clutching your head.

"Jesus, Watson, what happened to you?" Her voice sounds like it's underwater. She tries to reach out for you but fails, her injury stopping her.

"What— what'd you say?" You ask, lifting your head to look at her. She merely groans in response. Sensing someone else in the room, you slowly move your head to find out who it is. "Murphy?"

He's blurry but it's definitely him. He's slouched against a wall. He looks horrible, but when isn't he all bruised and bloody? His gaze has been on you since you came in. Not that you noticed, shit, you can barely see him.

"Yeah, it's me." He grunts. "Took you long enough."

"Where's — where is everyone?" You ask, your voice still hoarse. Your head is pounding. "Jasper? Miller? Hell, Bellamy?" You breathe, it's ragged but at least you're breathing.

Raven shakes her head. "We don't know—" She cuts herself off as she starts to cough out blood. Your previously half lidded eyes snap open as you reach for her, despite your body screaming at you.

"Lay— lay on your side, Raven. Come on." You help her as best as you can. When she does, Murphy limps over to where you both are, handing you a rag. You take it, cleaning her mouth. "You're okay. Just breathe." Your soothing words are familiar to Murphy.

He remembers both times you took care of him. Right after he was hung, you held him in your lap as his breathing became normal again. And then, when he came back to camp after being tortured. When you cleaned his wounds, speaking in that same soft tone you're using now. He finds himself quite drawn to it.

Murphy's finally clear in your gaze. You're not sure if it's because he's closer now, or if your vision is no longer blurred. You look down at his leg, shifting positions with a loud groan.

His hand immediately holds onto you, helping you as you sit against the ladder. "You're bleeding." You mutter, staring down at his wound. "Wrap a cloth around it." You order, while panting.

You hear a gunshot in the distance. Part of you hopes it's Bellamy. Or Sterling. You don't know where he went after you were thrown back by the explosion.

It's a little while later that Dr. Griffin and Kane walk in. They both take in the state of you three. Abby runs over to Raven first. You're not surprised considering she's in the worst state. "Raven. Raven, honey it's Abby." She speaks.

"Clarke's not here. I don't know where she is." She mutters out weakly. Kane approaches you, crouching down.

"Watson?"

"Kane." You greet, dryly. He analyzes you for a while, before finally asking.

"What happened to you?" His eyebrows are furrowed. He's not worried about you, he just wants to know what they're dealing with. At least, that's what you think.

"Grenade." Is your simple response as he stands back up.

Next thing you know you're being carried out by a guard. Kane carries Murphy out as he spews out nonsense about what happened in the battlefield. Your jaw tightens, but you don't interrupt him. You're already in too much pain.

"Bellamy?" You whisper when you finally raise your head. Jesus Christ he looks horrible. Finn too. What the hell happened?

"Bellamy, you're uh...you're alive." Murphy speaks, and he knows whats coming next as Bellamy walks straight towards him.

He pushes Murphy down, out of Kane's grasp. "You murdering son of a bitch!" Bellamy yells, throwing punches until a guard electrifies him. He groans, falling on the ground in the process.

"Place him under arrest." Kane orders.

"Wait, you don't understand." Finn interjects, panting. "Murphy murdered two of our people. He shot another one. He tried to hang Bellamy."

"I don't care. You are not animals." Kane pauses, taking one good look at Finn. "There are rules. Laws. You are not in control here anymore."

The guards separate Bellamy and Murphy, sitting them far away from each other like two kids in timeout. You find it amusing. Whoever the hell is holding you plops you down next to Murphy. You let out a small "ow" as he walks away.

"Just as your face was healing, you're all bloody again." You mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body feels like it's on fire, every bruise is aching. But when your eyes meet his pretty blue ones it all seems to slip away for a short moment.

Murphy's hands shift slightly. "Thank Bellamy for that." He scoffs, tone bitter. He flicks his gaze towards the guards, making sure they weren't listening. "Guess I had it coming."

You study him for a moment, exhaustion heavy in your muscles. "I would've punched you too." You admit, with an eye roll, though your words lack any real venom. "You deserve that and more."

Despite your words, there's something that confuses him. You can feel it too. The softness creeping in where anger should be. You should hate him for all he's done, but when you look at him— bloodied, bruised and still standing despite everything— you can't help but feel... something else.

He lets out a humorless laugh, wincing slightly. "Why didn't you?"

"Everything hurts." You mumble, more to yourself than to him, and before you can think twice, your body betrays you. You lean your head against his shoulder. Maybe it was because he was warm, but he offered a sense of comfort completely foreign to you.

Murphy stiffens, surprised by the sudden contact. You notice, but you don't have the energy to move. You stay there, breathing uneven but steady. Eventually, his tense shoulders relax, and he even leans back a bit to support your weight. You hide a smile.

"You're really something, you know that?" He mutters after a beat of silence, though there's no malice in his tone. It's quieter now, like he's speaking to himself instead of you.

"I know." Is your simple response as you shut your eyes.

—

Chapter Text

The hum of the voices around you fade in and out as your thoughts drift. Abby Griffin's voice pulls you back to the present. She murmurs your full name, to confirm if it's you or not. You nod shortly. When she uses your first name you stop her. "Just Watson. Everyone calls me that." You clear your throat, gaze averted as you spoke.

Abby pauses for a moment but then nods. "Okay, well, Watson, you're lucky. Could've been worse." She says as she inspects your face further. "Mostly just cuts and bruises. Nothing deep."

She carefully wraps your cuts with bandages, you wince slightly. "Where's Murphy?" You ask softly, looking around the rest of medical.

"I cleared him a little bit ago. He's fine." You're not sure why but you're relieved. Scratch that, you do know why, you've started to care for the little weasel. Unfortunate.

"Good." You murmur, tilting your head. "And Raven?"

Abby sighs. "She's stable, for now. I need to go back to check on her soon—"

"Go." You insist, moving to stand up. She stops you.

"You need to rest. Even if you're not bleeding out, you need at least a day's recovery." Yeah, if only. You wish you could sit back and rest now but you know it won't happen.

You shift again, and this time she lets you stand up. She lets out a long sigh, finding out you're just as stubborn as Clarke and the others. "Be careful. Don't push yourself too hard or you might get hurt."

You nod along to her words, but you stopped paying attention. Eventually your gaze returns to her. "Will you let me know when Raven's alright?"

Her eyes soften, offering you a short nod. "Of course."

—

A guard holds you by the arm before you can go anywhere. You blink, staring up at him in confusion. He doesn't say anything, just starts tugging you along, with barely any effort. "Woah! Hey! Where are you taking me?"

When he doesn't respond, you keep protesting. "Let go of me! Quit manhandling me!" He keeps going, and you're embarrassed about how easy it is for him. You reach a door, and as soon as it opens, he pushes you in. You stumble, falling on your ass.

"The hells your problem?" You hiss, but he's unaffected. Looking around, you see Bellamy in one corner, Murphy in the other. Ah. They're locking you up. Again.

"Show me your wrists." The guard commands, and you comply with no further arguing. Although, you do glare at him as you do. Your hands are tied together, against a pole in the room.

"This feels a little unnecessary." You grumble as the guard stands back up straight and makes his way towards the door.

"We're just making sure you don't steal anything, Watson." He says your name with such a bitter tone. You almost forgot you and your parents were well known thieves back in the ark.

"Wha— what am I gonna steal? A scalpel? Oh yeah, I bet that'll do some damage." Your sarcastic response draws out a snicker from Murphy.

"I dealt with your parents back at the ark. I'm not taking any chances." With that, he leaves and you're left baffled.

"What a dick." You grumble. Murphy chuckles from the corner, watching as you struggle against your restraints.

"Welcome to the club, Watson."

—

Raven's screams echoed through the whole ark. It was horrible to listen to. You shut your eyes, as if that'll stop the noise. Bellamy looks equally as concerned.

"Yeah, that was me at the grounder camp." Murphy suddenly speaks. Your eyes snap open to look at him. Bad timing but, you still feel sorry for him. "I did everything I could not to scream, but eventually—"

"But eventually, you broke, and you told them everything." Bellamy takes the bait. You figure Murphy just wants to argue. You let out an exaggerated groan, leaning your head against the pole.

"And you wouldn't have, because you're better than me."

"Damn right." At Bellamy's words, Murphy smirks. "I'm not a traitor. I didn't tell them where they could find us."

You roll yours eyes. You gotta get outta here, or else these two are gonna drive you nuts. You tug at your restraints, tightening them. Zip ties break easier when tightened.

"And I did." Murphy's response is quick. "Yeah, I did. After they tortured me in their prison camp for three days." Bellamy pauses, looking away. "But go ahead. You just keep believing... even if you are in here, just like me."

As the two bicker, your hands have been shifting against the zip-ties in attempts to free yourself. You'd gotten out of worse. They're tight enough, surely if you pull hard enough—aha! Freedom. Though it slightly stings, your wrists are all red.

You let out a long sigh, "Are you two done?" With one swift motion, you pull your hands forward, effectively freeing yourself. You huff, pushing yourself up to stand.

The two blink at you, momentarily distracted from their spat. "How the hell did you do that?" Murphy asks, trying to copy your actions to no avail.

You ignore the question, or maybe you don't hear it, as you approach the door. You inspect it carefully. You've opened these before, and without needing any fancy hacking. You suppress a smile, it's like they want you to free yourself.

Bellamy, while intrigued, warns you. "You can't open it from the insid—" The doors slide open, and you're thankful there are no guards standing outside.

Another beat of silence in utter disbelief. Before you can walk out, however, Bellamy's voice stops you in your tracks. "Where are you going?"

You glance at them over your shoulder. "I'm not gonna sit around waiting while our friends could be dying. I'll be back for you." With that you disappear down the hall, leaving the two in utter shock.

Bellamy and Murphy exchange incredulous looks, argument long forgotten. Their stunned silence lingers in the air for a moment or two, before Murphy leans back, whistling. "That was hot."

Bellamy shoots him a sharp glare. "Shut up, Murphy."

—

It's late at night when you and Finn walk through the door. You're holding your flashlight, tilting it down so he sees where he's going. He approaches Bellamy first. "Get up. We're going after them." Finn says, cutting Bellamy free.

Your gaze is turned towards the door, where Monroe stands guard. Bellamy and Finn start to walk out, before Murphy interjects. You glance down at him.

"Hey, whoa, wait! What about me?" Murphy speaks up. Finn and Bellamy exchange glances.

You sigh, impatient. You approach him, taking your knife out. Finn speaks before you can free him.

"Hey, wait, no! What are you doing?" He demands.

You roll your eyes, cutting him loose. "He's coming with us." You put your knife away, pulling Murphy up. His hands are still bound, you merely freed him from the wall.

"No way."

Bellamy interjects before you can, "He's been to the grounder prison camp." He justifies.

"He's right. Okay? I can take you there." Murphy nods.

"Hey, Sterling just signaled. Someone's coming." Monroe interrupts, then runs off. There's a short pause before Bellamy pushes Murphy to walk in front of them. You follow behind closely.

—

Chapter Text

"Sterling, bud, where have you been? I totally lost you back at camp." You speak as you trek through the forest, walking next to said boy. He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, before answering.

"Monroe and I left to try and get help from the ark." Before you can respond, he stammers. "I didn't mean to leave you Watson, but you were knocked out and—"

"Woah, dude. Calm down." You grin, finding his nervous state amusing. "I would've done the same." You shrug, the conversation in front of you grasping your attention.

"Okay, Murphy, where to now?" Bellamy asks, gun in hand.

"What do you say we lose these first, huh?" He raises his hands that were bound together. He looks over his shoulder, right at you. "Huh, Watson?"

"No. Again." Bellamy replies curtly. You merely smirk at him.

Murphy scoffs, a frustrated edge in his voice. "If we get attacked out here, I have nothing to defend myself with." He argues.

He has a point, yet, "He could be bait." You tilt your head, amused. Bellamy finds your gaze, nodding. You were just joking, but it seems like he actually agrees.

"Exactly."

Then, Finn cuts him loose. Earning a thank you from Murphy. Bellamy follows Finn as he picks up the pace. You fall into step beside Murphy, your eyes flicking up and down, scanning him for any signs of trouble.

He catches your gaze. "Grounder bait, really, Watson?" He mocks offense, his teasing tone returning. His usual smirk playing at his lips.

You roll your eyes, expression mirroring his. He's annoying, yet so entertaining. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely crushed." He deadpans, glancing at you once more. He takes a moment, perhaps admiring you. When he stares at for a beat longer, you return his gaze, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What?"

A grin grows on his lips. He shakes his head, "Nothing." His eyes move back to Bellamy and Finn who walk in front of you. "Think they'll give me a gun?"

You snort, finding his audacity charming. "Funny." You say, voice dry.

He scoffs, "No faith in me, Watson?"

You meet his gaze again, barely fighting back a smirk. "Not a shred."

"Harsh." Murphy grins, nudging your shoulder with his. You shove him, fighting back another smile.

—

"Everybody down, down. Get down." Murphy whispers harshly, as you reach your destination. He tugs you down, causing you to stumble down. "This is it." He turns back to Bellamy. "Told you I'd find it."

Bellamy raises his rifle, using the scope to scan the camp ahead. His face tightens into a frown. "I see nothing but grounders."

Finn snatches Sterling's gun, doing the same. The quiet stretches as everyone watches, waiting for something to happen.

Bellamy speaks up again. "Our people aren't here."

"Wait a minute." Finn says sharply. His voice draws all your attention as he grips the rifle tighter. "They've got stuff from our drop-ship." His tone shifts, something darker.

Bellamy peers through his scope again. "So maybe they know where our friends are."

Murphy, ever the pessimist, scoffs under his breath. "Yeah or maybe they killed them already." His dry tone earns him a smack on the arm from you. He merely throws you a smirk, shrugging. God, he's irritating.

"Son of a bitch." Finn whispers, drawing your attention towards him once again. "The guy with the one eye. Around his neck."

"What am I looking at?"

"He's got Clarke's watch." Finn turns back to the scene, his jaw setting. "It was her father's."

"She wouldn't give that up without a fight." Bellamy speaks. Way to boost morale.

It's like something switches in Finn's mind. He looks determined, sure, but his eyes carry something more. Something vengeful. "Neither will we."

—

You've kidnapped a grounder. How the hell does this keep happening? You stand in the bunker, watching how Bellamy and Finn interrogate the man. You and Sterling exchange concerned looks as Finn yells.

"Where is the girl who was wearing this watch?!" His voice is sharp, commanding as he shoves the watch into the grounder's face. His eyes are wide, wild, like a storm building behind them.

"I never saw a girl." The grounder speaks roughly.

"Another lie." Murphy utters. "Maybe you should stop asking him nicely—"

"Shut up Murphy." Bellamy snaps, voice tight with frustration, mirroring your own thoughts. The last thing you need is Murphy fueling the fire.

You nudge Murphy hard in the ribs, giving him a pointed look. He scoffs, brushing you off. "He's a grounder, Watson. He deserves it."

"Not every grounder is evil." You argue, eyebrows furrowed as you try to keep your voice calm.

Murphy's face hardens, his voice bitter. "Did you forget they tortured me?" He shoots back.

"Of course not, but—" Before you can finish your sentence, Finn strikes the grounder in the head, drawing your attention once again.

"Answer the question! Where's the girl who was wearing this watch?"

"Hey, hey. Finn, stop!" Bellamy holds him back. "You don't wanna do this, trust me. There's some lines you can't uncross."

There's a pause as Bellamy walks off, thinking Finn has calmed down. Only, Finn turns back to the grounder, punching him repeatedly. "Where's Clarke?! Where is she?"

"Finn!"

"Back off!" He points the gun at Bellamy. The room goes dead silent.

Bellamy pauses, hands slightly raised in front of him. "Put down the gun, Finn." Bellamy urges.

But Finn's not hearing him. His attention swings back to the grounder, gun still raised. "Three seconds." He growls, voice dark and final.

Your heart sinks. "Holy shit." You breathe, dread setting in. This can't be Finn. It just can't be.

"Two!"

"One." "Okay! I'll tell you." The grounder finally speaks. "Your friends are east of here. The village where we take our prisoners of war."

"East where? How do we get to them?" Finn asks urgently, all patience lost.

"I can draw you a map... but you should hurry, soon they'll outlive their usefulness."

Finn finally lowers his gun. But he's still just as tense. "Get him something to draw a map."

Monroe obliges, handing the grounder a piece of paper.

"You thought I was the crazy one, huh?" Murphy taunts Bellamy. But he only watches Finn, his expression telling exactly what he's thinking. Who the hell is this and what happened to Finn?

—

The grounder draws the map. Shit, who wouldn't when Finn's crazy ass is hovering over you like that?

"Gather up your gear." Bellamy speaks, standing up.
"We're leaving."

"What about him?" Sterling asks about the grounder.

"For now, we leave him. We'll deal with him when we're done."

"What if he escapes? He knows exactly where we're going." Murphy protests.

"We're not killing him." Is Bellamy's simple response.

"I'm not seeing another option here." Murphy's quick to argue, and you know it's personal for him.

"He's unarmed." You add, arms crossed. Bellamy nods at you.

Murphy isn't as convinced, shooting you a look in disbelief. "He's a grounder." Murphy retorts again. He looks over at Sterling, then Monroe. "Really? Come on, tell him."

"I don't know." Monroe mumbles.

"You don't know what? He's gonna tell his people everything. We're as good as dead. Our friends, too."

Bellamy's jaw tightens. "Look, we're not doing this. End of discussion." He spat. "You want him, you go through me."

"What exactly happened to you, huh?" Murphy doesn't back down. "You're talking like you never killed a grounder before."

"This is different. This'd be an execution—" The gunshot cuts you off. You all turn towards the noise in shock. The grounder drops dead. Finn pauses for a moment, fingers twitching against the gun.

"Let's get moving." Finn says, walking past the group.

—

Chapter Text

You trail behind Finn and Bellamy, keeping a close eye on Murphy beside you. He's quiet for once, his gaze constantly shifting through the trees. You're deep in thought, mulling over what happens in that bunker. Finn shot that grounder with no hesitation, and for what?

Something was wrong. Definitely. You understood his worry for Clarke. You were just as worried, your friends were taken. Jasper, Monty, Miller... But the way Finn was acting? It was out of character.

"Everybody, eyes peeled. We're in grounder territory." Bellamy's words suddenly make you notice your surroundings.

"Everything is grounder territory, alright? I can't keep running." Murphy complains, coming to a stop. You're exhausted, too, but you'd feel too guilty to stop. Stopping feels wrong when your friends are in trouble. "We don't even know if the guy Finn killed is telling the truth."

Finn walks over to Murphy, grabbing him by the shoulder and tugging him along. "Keep moving."

"Give them a minute." Bellamy argues, making Finn let go of Murphy.

"No, we can't. You heard what that grounder said, they'll outlive their usefulness." Finn seems frustrated. Who wouldn't be? Running for hours in a forrest, in looks for your friends who seem to have magically disappeared.

"I heard what he said when you had a gun to his head." Bellamy shoots back, eyebrows furrowed.

"Look, you think I wanted to do that? He would've told his people we were coming, and by the time we got there, our people would be dead." Finn speaks in a desperate tone. "Maybe that's something you can live with, but I can't!"

"I know you did what you think you had to do. But you are not yourself right now and I can't be out here with another loose cannon." Bellamy responds, his voice dropping slightly.

You look over at the "loose cannon" in question, who returns your gaze. Murphy shoots you a wink.

"You guys." Monroe points behind the two.

"Fall in."

You all move forward as a group and come across the wreckage. Dead bodies are strewn across the ground. "Where the hell did they come from?" Murphy mutters.

"From the ark." Bellamy responds, holding his gun tighter. He walks off.

You all look around and, truthfully, it's a grim scene. The group makes it to a cliff, scanning the remains of the ship below. They never would've made it.

"That's a rough landing." Murphy speaks, a hint of dark humor in his tone.There's a moment of silence, perhaps out of response for the dead, before Bellamy breaks it.

"There's nothing we can do for these people. We gotta go." But just are you're about to leave you hear something — someone. She's crying.

"Do you hear that?"

Monroe moves closer to the edge, squinting down at the cliff. "Hey, someone's down there."

"Hey! Up here." Bellamy calls out, to which she responds.

"Please help me!" The voice, panicked and broken, belongs to a girl who hangs off a branch.

"Mel?" Sterling's face lights up in recognition.

"Help me!"

"You know her?" Murphy asks.

"Shut up, Murphy. She's my friend. We have to do something." Sterling speaks with urgency.

"Help me! Sterling, please!" She yells out. You look down in sympathy as Sterling walks past you, going through his bag.

Finn had pulled Bellamy to the side. You don't hear what they discuss but you have an idea. Your gaze comes back to the girl — Mel— as you lean over the cliff, careful not to fall over. "Hang on!"

When Bellamy turns back to the group, Sterling is already lowering himself down. "We're moving out."

"Wait, Sterling!" Finn speaks.

"Looks like we're taking this break after all, huh?" You hear Murphy say. You stay near the cliff, maybe trying to reassure the girl. And, it takes a while but Sterling manages to lower himself down. You think it's sweet how determined he is to save her.

"I'm almost there! Once I have her, pull us up!" He yells out, and you respond. "Gotcha, buddy!"

"I'd say he's heard one too many of your motivational speeches." Murphy snarks once again.

"Shut up, Murphy." Bellamy says.

He reaches her, but he's struggling. You can't imagine how difficult this must be.

No one was watching the damn rope. Why wasn't anyone paying attention? The knot wasn't tight enough. You lunge over to where it falls, you manage to grab it, but you feel yourself getting dragged closer to the edge. Your grip is tight, despite knowing this can get you killed.

You don't let go. "Sterling!" You yell, struggling. Just as you're about to fall over, a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders from behind, pulling you back sharply. "No!" The rope slips from your hands, you fall back, landing against Murphy.

"You trying to get yourself killed?" He grumbles, voice close to your ear, rough with irritation.

You stare at him, but you don't really see him. You're looking through him, eyes shifting. You're in shock. He sighs, eyes softening ever so slightly. His grip steadies you, his thumb rubs against your shoulder, maybe trying to soothe you.

Sterling is dead. You couldn't save him, you failed. It's not your fault, right? You tried, you almost made it.

"Fuck." You breathe, but you're still freaking out. You barely knew him, but it was still a terrible way to go. He was just trying to save his friend. "Shit." You huff, Murphy shushes you, noticing your panicked gaze.

Meanwhile, "Mel! Mel, hold on." Bellamy leans over to look at her. "Focus on me. You can do this."

"No!" She cries.

"Yes, you can. You're strong." Bellamy insists. How sweet.

"I'm not strong! Stubborn, maybe."" Mel's sobs sound gut-wrenching. They seem to wake you up, your gaze snapping over to where Bellamy stands.

You exhale shakily, and you finally see Murphy. He watches you patiently, his grip still gentle. Your eyes meet his, shifting between the two. "Thank you." You murmur. He pauses, studying you for another moment, before nodding.

Murphy helps you stand. You return to where you previously stood, watching as Bellamy encourages the girl.

"So be stubborn a little longer. Yeah? I'm not gonna let you die. You hear me?" Bellamy encourages the girl, as Finn grows increasingly stressed, impatient.

"We're out of rope." Finn rasps, but Bellamy doesn't give in.

"So we make a new one."

"Anything happens to our friends—" whatever Finn is going to say is cut off.

"We don't know if we can save our friends! For all we know, they may be dead already. We've all thought it. But what we do know is we can save this one girl." Bellamy's determined. Finn shakes his head.

"Sterling was one of us." Monroe speaks. "She was his friend. I'm in." You nod along to her words.

It takes Murphy a second, and a look of expectancy from you before he asks. "How do we do it?"

"We make rope from the wreckage." Bellamy explains. "Go find wires, seat belts, anything."

So you do.

—

You managed to save the girl. It took a lot of effort, the group almost lost the grip on the makeshift rope. The grounders attacked, too. Truly, it was a bitch to do. But you did it!

You're scanning Mel, trying to find any serious wounds. You're crouching next to her as you do. Her arm is broken, at least you think it is. Again, you're not a doctor. "I'll wrap this up for you. Try not to move it much." You mutter, scrounging up a piece of fabric big enough to help her, like a makeshift cast.

Out of nowhere, Octavia calls your name. You glance up just in time for her to rush at you, practically knocking you over with a hug.

"Oh!" You huff, smiling as you wrap your arms around her. "Knew you were alive. You're too cool to die." You tease, squeezing her back.

She chuckles before pulling away."And I knew you were alive. You're too smart to die." She retorts, smiling as she does. You narrow your eyes in a teasing manner.

"So I'm not cool? Hurtful."

Octavia makes her way to an injured Monroe. You glance at Mel once more, scanning her for any further injuries. She's definitely still scared, but appreciative. Once you're sure she's fine, you move away from her, taking a moment for yourself.

You know Sterling's death wasn't entirely your fault. You weren't the only one who didn't pay attention to the rope. But still, if you were only stronger, faster, he'd be alive. You don't want to dwell, especially not now, but you can't seem to shake this off.

You can hear his screams, still, feel the way you were pulled forward, and the way the rope felt on your hands. It burned, your hands are still red.

You shut your eyes, hugging your knees against your chest. Your head rests on top of your knees. You take deep breaths, because you're trying your best to stay calm.

A shadow falls over you. You open your eyes to find Murphy, watching you with a guarded expression. He sighs, sitting down next to you. "You did what you could, Watson."

You blink, looking away from him. "Doesn't feel like enough."

He's quiet for a second, "For what it's worth, none of us were watching the rope. You did more than any of us."

Your gaze returns to him once again, eyes full of uncertainty. His own gaze doesn't waver, and it certainly helps to ground you. You nod hesitantly.

There's a moment where neither of you speak, merely looking at each other. Murphy's expression remains guarded, but there's a certain gentleness in the way he's looking at you. You find yourself drawn to it.

Before you can say anything, Octavia stands, speaking loud enough for you all to hear. "The grounders will be back, so we need to go. Now."

Murphy stands first, looking down at you. He extends his arm for you to take. "Come on, unless you really do have a death wish."

You huff, rolling your eyes. But you take his arm, allowing him to pull you up. "Thanks." You mutter again. You both make your way closer towards the group.

"Yes we do." Finn agrees from where he sits.

You hear Bellamy mutter something to Finn about the arrow in Monroe's thigh, and you catch the tail end of his words. "I have to take them home."

Finn hands Bellamy a map, in silent understanding "I'll meet you as soon as I can." Bellamy says.

"I know." Finn repeats, turning away as he begins to walk.

Murphy moves past you, with a sarcastic flourish, raising his arms dramatically. "Parting. Such sweet sorrow, right?"

Before he can get far, Bellamy calls after him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Murphy stops, turning back with a shrug. "Come on. Bellamy, you know if I go with you, they'll just lock me up again." Murphy speaks, gaze trailing over to you before looking back at Bellamy.

Bellamy scowls, but after a beat of tense silence, he tosses Sterling's old gun at Murphy, who catches it easily. The move surprises everyone, especially Octavia, who looks at her brother in disbelief.

"Really?" Octavia mutters, but Bellamy doesn't answer her.

Instead, he turns to you. "Watson?"

You're already on your feet, not needing much convincing. "Yeah, I know, bossman." You salute him mockingly, to which he only rolls his eyes. "Someone with an ounce of sanity needs to watch these two."

Bellamy nods approvingly, and you give him a small smile in return. When you try to walk by him, he grabs your arm. Your eyes narrow, before he speaks. "You okay?" His voice is low, private, as he asks.

You nod. "All good." You answer, but you're not very convincing. Bellamy keeps his eyes on you for a moment, studying you carefully. Maybe it's not wise to leave you alone with those two.

You don't see him, but Murphy watches the exchange with narrowed eyes. His grip on the gun tightens, huffing impatiently.

"Seriously, Bellamy, I'm good." You repeat, finding his concerned eyes. "I'm tough as nails." You huff, making a small smile appear on his lips.

"Okay." With that, you're off, following Murphy into the forest. He throws a small glance over his shoulder as you catch up, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" He quips, his voice light despite the tension that lingers in the air.

"Oh yeah. Totally."

Chapter Text

The thunder rumbles in the distance as you, Finn and Murphy stand at a distance from a grounder village. The two boys look through their scopes, counting how many people there are. You're unarmed, but you can still make out a couple, kids and elders included.

"I count 26." Finn speaks.

"I got 28." Murphy responds. "These people don't look like warriors, Finn." He turns to the boy, trying to reason with him.

"It's mostly children and old people." You add, head tilted towards Finn. "No space big enough to hold our friends."

"They could be underground." Finn insists, but neither you or Murphy are convinced. A beat of silence as they both look through their scopes again. "We wait till dark. Then we go in."

Murphy's quick to ask. "We go in? Finn, we don't even know if our people are here yet."

"They're here. Or they were when that grounder took Clarke's watch." Finn doesn't give in.

"What if we're too late, huh?" At Murphy's words, Finn shakes his head. Still, he continues. "I mean, they're probably already dead—"

Suddenly, Finn grabs Murphy's shoulder. Your head snaps over to them, eyebrows furrowed.

"Take it easy." Murphy mutters. Finn scans him for a moment, before letting go. He raises his gun again to look through his scope.

"How much ammo do we have?" He suddenly asks.

"You know, I think I liked you better as a peacemaker." Is all Murphy responds with, looking through his scope once again.

You shift slightly, capturing their attention. "I'll check around the perimeter, see if I can find anything." Before you can stand, however, Murphy grabs your hand to pull you back down.

"Like hell you are. You're not armed." His tone is sharper than usual.

"I'm not just gonna sit around doing nothing." You respond, eyebrows furrowed. "It's fine, I've done this dozens of times. They won't see me." Back in the ark, you'd sneak past guards countless times. You're an experienced thief.

Murphy still doesn't look convinced, eyes scanning your whole figure before returning back to your face. He tightens his grip around the rifle slightly, his voice dropping lower, barely above a whisper. "This isn't the ark. These aren't just guards you can slip by."

You sigh, meeting his gaze, unflinching. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes searching yours. There's tension in the air — concern masked behind his usual guarded expression. "If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after you."

You smirk, pulling your hand free. "I'll be back in five." With a wink, you move off, slipping between the trees.

Murphy watches as you disappear, muttering something under his breath. You can feel his eyes on your back, but you don't bother turning.

—

Turns out he was right. This is much different from your usual scene, but you manage. You stay low and silent, every step you take is calculated, your senses alert as you circle around the village. The distant murmur of voices reaches your ears, mixed with the soft crackle of the fire.

From behind a large tree, you peer your head. Just as suspected, the village is peaceful. Children play near a fire while an elder stirs a pot of something over a fire.

But there's no sign of your people. No cages, no holding cells, nothing.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight. This only proves that grounders are simply defending themselves, that they too can be at peace. It's at this time where you wish you could be living so peacefully, without having to worry about war, or possibly dying tomorrow.

After that small moment, you begin to carefully retreat.

—

When you make your way back to Finn and Murphy, they don't seem to hear you at first. You smirk, this simply proves you knew what you were doing. You approach Murphy, nudging his leg with your foot as a greeting.

He jolts, head whipping around to where you stand. Finn notices, glancing over his shoulder. "Well?"

You shake your head, taking your earlier seat next to Murphy. "No sign of our people. No holding cells, no cages, nothing suspicious. If they were here, they're long gone."

Finn's jaw tightens, his grip on his gun hardening. "They could still be underground."

You sigh, trying to remain patient. "I checked the perimeter, there's no activity that suggests people are being held here. It's just a normal village."

Murphy shoots Finn a look. "Told you."

But Finn isn't giving up so easily. "We go in at night." He repeats.

Your eyes flick between the two boys, tension building once again. You shake your head in annoyance. But Finn's gaze remains focused on the village.

This isn't going to end well.

—

"What are you doing? This isn't part of your plan." Murphy hisses as Finn grabs a torch.

You raise your eyebrows. "We have a plan?" You mumble, but neither one of them answers you.

"I'm changing the plan." Is all Finn responds with as he moves in towards the village. He identifies the hut where they store their food, dropping the torch in. Definitely unnecessary, you think, but whatever.

As the grounders scatter around when they notice the fire, you three sneak around the village. The fire was a distraction, sure, but burning their food still seemed kinda asshole-ish.

After some more lurking (which the two boys are horrible at, you note) a grounder inevitably spots you. He yells, alerting his people, but Murphy hits him with his rifle, knocking him down.

"We need to run." Murphy says urgently.

Finn doesn't budge. "We can't. They'll kill our people."

"They'll kill us." Murphy responds, but Finn isn't listening. He grabs the grounder from the floor, shutting up at the sky as he walks towards the center of the village.

"Who's in charge here?" Finn demands, holding the gun towards the grounder. When no one responds, he repeats. "I'll ask again, who's in charge?"

A man walks up. Finn and Murphy point their guns at him. "Our leader isn't here. You can deal with me." He speaks.

"Nobody has to get hurt." Finn responds, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. "We just want our people back."

The man shakes his head, perhaps confused. "We don't have your people."

Finn doesn't miss a beat before speaking again. "Then you won't mind if we look around."

—

It's daytime now and you're still here. All the grounders were rounded up into a damn pen. Finn runs around one side of the village, trying to find someone, anyone. You're on the other side, checking through all the houses, though a lot more considerate than Finn, that's for sure.

You return back to the center of the village. "Nothing here," you lower your tone, now speaking mostly to yourself. "Like I said earlier."

Murphy spares you a glance, an eyebrow raised before taking a couple steps to where Finn is.

"I told you, we don't have your people." The man from earlier — Nyko? — speaks.

Murphy glares. "Stop talking." Is his simple response. You nearly forgot how much he hates grounders.

You offer them a look of sympathy, muttering a small "Sorry," at the villagers.

In the distance, Finn seems to spot something. You don't see what, he's too far away. "You find something?" Murphy calls out. "Finn!" He raises his gun again, before yelling out again. "Finn, answer me. Are you all right?"

A grounder seems to take this as an opportunity to stand. He looks young, no older than sixteen, but Murphy still points the gun at him. "Hey, on your knees. Down!"

Finn runs back towards the villagers, clearly pissed off. You take a step back as he throws a jacket you recognize on the ground. "What have you done with them?!" He demands. When he doesn't get a response, he raises the gun to Nyko's head.

"Hey, Finn. Come on." Murphy tries to intervene.

"Their clothes are here. They were here!" He speaks desperately, raising the gun once again. "You killed them."

There's a tense moment where the grounders all shift, about to stand when the man stops them. Nyko turns back to Finn, his gaze unflinching. "Your friends were not here. I saw one, Octavia, but she was alone."

"Finn, let's think about this. They could've just found the stuff." You try to reason, but Finn pushes one of the grounders down. "Finn!"

"Finn, stop! Listen to me!" Even Murphy tries to intervene, grabbing his shoulder.

Finn shrugs him off, "Get off me!" He steps on the woman, gun trained on her.

"Finn, don't do this." Murphy's tone is almost begging. "Man, let's just walk out of here while we still can, okay?"

Finn seems to be contemplating as he looks at Murphy, then back down at the woman. He shakes his head, frown etching onto his features.

"Finn. Please!"

After a moment, he steps back, eyes shutting. Your eyes are trained on the woman, scanning her to make sure she's okay.

Finn makes his way out of the pen, him and Murphy start muttering, probably discussing the fact that your friend's clothes were here. You remain near the pen, nodding over at the woman. "Is she alright?" You whisper.

You earn a couple of nasty stares, not that you care, but Nyko ultimately nods. Then, Murphy's voice is heard as he raises it. "The guy with one eye? Maybe because you had a gun to his head, Finn."

Nyko looks over at the two, in realization. "A man with one eye?" As he speaks, Finn raises his gun at him again. "You saw Delano. A snake, a thief. He and his men were cast out. You are his revenge." Nyko speaks, standing up with his arm raised.

"It makes sense, Finn." Murphy speaks, pulling you away from the pen, ready to leave. "Okay? We need to go. Now."

Finn's about to start walking away, but his head is still turned towards the pen. One of the grounders jumps over it, and Finn starts to shoot. The villager falls.

You look back in shock, eyes wide as you take in the scene. Nyko grabs onto the pen, eyes on you three. "He was just trying to get away."

Murphy tries to grab Finn again. "Come on."

Then, another grounder jumps over the fence, much to Nyko's dismay. Finn turns to him almost automatically, and shoots.

It's all a daze after that. The grounders kept on jumping over the fence, merely trying to escape but Finn still shoots. Murphy yells, trying to pull Finn back but it's useless. You step forward, ready to go intervene but Murphy grabs your arm, pulling you back. His grip is tight— protective— but you can't pull your eyes away from the scene.

He's slaughtering innocent people. And no matter how much you and Murphy yell, he doesn't stop. It's like he's in a trance.

Until he sees Clarke. It all stops, then.

You remove yourself from Murphy's grasp, running over to a grounder who lays on the floor. Nyko follows, then Octavia. She seems to recognize him as she speaks. "Artigas."

You swallow thickly, "He was just a kid." You mutter, eyes welling up.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Bellamy and Clarke are muttering about Mount Weather. You overhear her saying something about a dam, and some tunnels but you're not really listening. It's when Finn approaches them that it gets quiet. Yikes.

You sit nearby, though at a different table. You're lost in your thoughts as you think back to the village. The guilt you feel is immense. You should've done something, anything. Why couldn't you stop Finn?
You can still see the kid — Artigas — on the ground. He was a warrior, despite his age. He merely wanted to protect his people. Ironic how Finn insists he was doing the same.

You shut your eyes, your jaw set. You glare down at the cup of moonshine, swirling the liquid around as you tilt the cup. You're so lost in your thoughts you don't realize Murphy approaching you.

It's when he sits next to you that you snap out of it. You don't meet his gaze, however, as you take a long sip of the moonshine. "Might wanna slow down." He says, his tone cautious, as if unsure how to tread.

You glance up at him, then back at your cup. "I'm no lightweight." You murmur.

He watches you for another moment, like it's his favorite thing to do. He doesn't know why he finds it so hard to tear his eyes away from you.

"Are you okay?" He finally asks.

You want to say you are, but sometimes being vulnerable helps. "I keep thinking about the kid," You admit, your voice quieter than intended. "He was so young."

Murphy pauses, not knowing what to say. He only nods at your words, expression uncharacteristically soft. You like the way this look is only reserved for you.

Almost instinctively, you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. His body stiffens for a heartbeat, then relaxes, allowing you to settle in. "It's just..." you start, hesitating, "We're all trying to survive. The grounders too."

"I know." Is all he manages to say. He's no good with words, especially not in a moment like this. He raises his arm, carefully wrapping it around you. When you don't pull away, he relaxes again.

The embrace is enough to calm you down. And the way he rests his head on top of yours makes your heart race. You're not used to this, not at all. But you think you like it. At least, when it's him.

"Thank you."

—

You're crouched down, sorting through the medical supplies in the small makeshift clinic. Bandages, antiseptics, and a few herbs fill the shelves, and you're trying to get everything organized. It's not the most glamorous job, but you like to keep busy.

You would've gone with Clarke and Raven but truthfully you weren't really interested in the radio tower and the satellites— or whatever it is they're doing.

As you reach for a box on the top shelf, a voice interrupts you. "Need a hand with that?"

You don't need to turn, already knowing who it is. But you do, maybe because you want to see his pretty face. "Nope. Need something?" You ask.

He shrugs, stepping inside and surveying the cluttered shelves. "I was told to check up on you."

Your eyebrows quirk as you set down the supplies in your hands. "Oh yeah? By who?"

He sits on one of the beds, letting out a long exaggerated sigh. "That's classified."

You roll your eyes, but you don't pry, sensing this is his way of checking in without making a big deal out of it. You appreciate it, really. Usually, when people ask, it makes you feel weak. But Murphy? He seems to understand you.

Murphy picks up a bandage roll, studying it with exaggerated interest before glancing over at you. "So... you alright?" He finally asks, voice softer than intended.

You take a moment, contemplating how much you want to reveal. Then, you hum, scattering over to organize the bandages. "Just keeping busy."

"Yeah?" He stands, approaching where you are. If it were anyone else, you'd feel crowded, loomed over, cornered, but with him you're not as guarded as usual. You glance at him, bandages in hand. "Not overworking yourself, right?"

You bite back a smile, "I couldn't even if I wanted to. Not much to do." You shift your weight slightly, though he doesn't seem so convinced.

Perhaps he's figured you out. The way you try to overwork to compensate for your mistakes. You still think of Sterling, and you still think it's your fault. The massacre at the village made it worse. Grounders are your "enemies" but what Finn did was wrong.

Murphy watches as you think, studying you carefully. Cat's outta the bag, he likes looking at you. You're beautiful, alluring, there's something different about you. He doesn't understand it yet, but he knows there's something. Because why else would he be here?

Meanwhile, his pretty eyes have you spiraling. If he wasn't so cocky, you'd tell him how beautiful he is. You've always had a thing for his eyes, and the way his nose curves, and the way his lips— okay, so maybe you had a thing for him, specifically.

There's a moment where neither of you speak.

You clear your throat and he seems to snap out of his thoughts. He blinks, stepping back a bit. "What are you even doing here, huh? Thought you said you had no patience to be a doctor."

"I literally have nothing better to do."

"There's still some of Monty's moonshine..."

"I'm not getting drunk with you."

—

So, you're a liar. You are, in fact, getting drunk with Murphy. You've taken a whole bottle of moonshine, sneaking it into your room. Not that it was a difficult task for you. You sit on the floor, against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Murphy.

"This is absolutely disgusting." You grumble, after you've taken a swig of the moonshine. Murphy chuckles, grabbing the bottle from you and following.

"You have no taste, Watson." He says, wiping his lips. "I hope Monty's alive, someone's gotta keep making this stuff."

You rolls your eyes and smack him on the arm, but it's playful, your usual back-and-forth. "Morbid, much?"

He only smirks, taking another swig, handing the bottle back to you. You drink, though not as much as you'd like. Probably because at least one of you should be sober.

There's a small silence in which you two stare into nothing, spaced out. Until you finally speak up, gaze curious as you scan the boy. "You know I'm a thief," you start, gesturing toward the moonshine.

He snorts. "A damn good one."

Rolling your eyes, you continue. "But I don't know why you got arrested."

He hesitates for a moment, gaze trailing away. He grabs the bottle, taking a long swig before clearing his throat. "Lit a guard's office on fire." He speaks, his expression unreadable.

Your eyebrows raise, "Huh. Didn't expect that." You huff.

"Guessing you wanna know why." He sighs, a twinge of snark in his tone, but there's something more vulnerable underneath.

You shrug, finding his blue eyes. "Only if you want to tell me." You speak carefully, though not condescending.

It takes him a moment as he mulls over your words. He likes how patient you are with him. How, despite your banter, it's clear you care for him. You favor him over everyone else. You forgive him, but you also keep him in check. You tend to his wounds, you stayed by his side when he was sick, even if it was contagious.

He trusts you, over anyone else.

"I got the flu." He starts, eyes afar. "My dad— stole some medicine for me. Got floated for it." He exhales, still not meeting your patient gaze. "My mom started drinking, pretty heavily and..."

He pauses for another moment, finding your gaze. "Her last words she said to me were that I killed my father."

You're unsure of how to respond. You feel your heart ache for him as you study his features, eyes soft. You exhale, placing your hand on his. "I'm sorry." You murmur.

His eyes look down at your hand. He's still, almost like he's weighing the comfort in your touch, considering whether he's worthy of it. "It is what it is." He mutters, but his tone wavers.

You shake your head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, your voice soft. "You didn't deserve that."

For a moment, it's just you two in the quiet. Then, without looking up, he slowly intertwines his fingers with yours. His grip is firm, like he's afraid you'll pull away—but you don't.

You stay like that, hand in hand, sharing the silence.In that quiet, it's just the two of you, more connected than words could ever convey.

—

If you're wondering what happened next, the silence stretches, warm and unhurried, settling over you like a blanket. You had kept your hand in his, neither of you moved or spoke. For a while, you thought he'd pull away, but instead he squeezed your hand.

Slowly, you had leaned back, still close as you settle comfortably. Gradually, exhaustion wins. But you don't have the heart to tell him, or to move away. Your head eventually dipped against his shoulder, you let your eyes close. You think you feel him rest his head against yours, but you're already slipping into sleep.

The next morning, you stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, still groggy, and you realize your hand is still in his. You assume he's still asleep, because he doesn't move, and you hear his soft breathing. You feel a flutter in your chest, a small smile tugging to your lips.

His head had shifted back, against the wall, so you're able to raise yours from his shoulder. You take a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looks. You shift slightly, trying to free your hand, but he stirs, grips instinctively tightening for a moment before he opens his eyes.

Murphy's tired gaze lingers on you longer than usual, eyes tracing over your features in a way that feels both vulnerable and curious. His thumb absentmindedly brushes against the back of your hand, and his eyes drift to your lips, before snapping back to yours.

Finally he clears his throat, shifting slightly but not letting go of your hand. "Morning." he murmurs.

You manage a small smile, "Morning."

After another beat, you pull your hand free, but you're slower than intended, hesitating. His fingers slip away, reluctantly, and he lets out a small exhale. "Thought you said you weren't a lightweight."

You roll your eyes, although still flustered, "I'm not." You retort, a little too defensive. "I was just tired."

He smirks. "Uh-huh."

Chapter Text

All the citizens of the ark are gathered around as Abby — or the new acting chancellor?— is about to address the rumors about the war against the grounders. Not that it was much of a rumor to you, or any of the hundred.

You stand next to Murphy, because you always are, with your arms crossed.

"By now, you've all heard the rumor. And unfortunately it's true, the grounders are coming." Abby speaks, causing the crowd to mutter amongst themselves.

"We have a difficult decision to make. Thankfully, chancellor Jaha has found his way back to us." She continues.

"Thankfully?" You mutter, eyes narrowed.

"...And we're discussing all options."

"But to be safe," Jaha suddenly interrupts. "You need to pack. Now. Whatever you can carry. We may need to leave at a moment's notice."

"Where will we go?" Someone asks.

"I don't know, is the answer." Jaha responds. "But I heard of a place. A city of light. It's across the Dead Zone."

You stop listening, eyes scanning the crowd as you take in their expression. Some scared, some confused, none convinced by his words. You can't blame them. Murphy catches your gaze, his annoyed look pulling a grin to your lips.

Your gaze moves away from him, landing on Clarke who speaks up. "If we leave, what happens to our people in Mount Weather?"

"As your mother said... that is a very difficult decision to make." Jaha responds. "But the time has come for each and every one of us to ask... is this how the story of our people ends? Did we come all this way just to die tomorrow? Because if we're not gone by the time that sun rises, this is exactly what will happen."

The muttering continues. Then, Abby speaks. "No decision's been made. In the meantime, please report to your station supervisor and gather emergency supplies."

The crowd disperses, but you and Murphy stay put. Your gaze returns to him, eyebrows raised. He shifts where he stands.

"Doesn't feel right." You sigh, uncrossing your arms as you begin to walk.

Murphy follows almost instantly. "What doesn't?"

"Leaving our people to die." You grumble, walking through the hallways of the ark. "Jasper, Monty, Miller, Harper...everyone. This sucks."

He huffs, "Yeah, well, we'll all be dead if we don't leave."

You make it to your room, and as soon as you do, Murphy throws himself on your bed as if he owns the place. You roll your eyes and sit next to him. "Ever the optimist, huh, Murphy?"

"Being realistic here, Watson." He says, glancing up at the ceiling. His casual tone doesn't match the sharp edge of his words. "I mean, what else are we supposed to do?"

You stay silent for a moment, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. "It feels wrong. It's not fair to them."

Murphy shifts beside you, and you feel the weight of his gaze. "Yeah, well, life's not fair." His voice softens just a little. "We can't save everyone. We're lucky if we can save ourselves."

You let out a bitter laugh. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Murphy's silent for a moment, watching you. "It's not about feeling better," he finally says. "It's about staying alive. You know that."

You meet his eyes, and there's something there—something just beneath his usual tough exterior. Concern, maybe? For you, not for them.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping. "You're not gonna help anyone if you're dead. And I'm not gonna let that happen. So if we have to leave... we leave."

You frown, your chest tight with frustration, but his words ground you. You hate that he's right.

"I get it." You mutter, though it doesn't ease your concern.

Murphy watches you for a beat longer. "Good," he says, smirking, though there's a soft flicker in his eyes. "Because I'd rather not have to drag your stubborn ass out of here."

You manage a small smile, nudging him back. "As if you could."

Murphy's smirk widens, eyes glinting with that familiar mischievous edge. "Oh, I could. Don't tempt me."

You scoff, standing up to pack your things. "Please, you'd be out of breath halfway down the hall."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of amusement in them as he leans back, propping himself up with his arms. "Keep telling yourself that. I'd still be dragging your stubborn ass while you're complaining the whole way."

"I don't complain," you shoot back, looking over your shoulder at the male. "I state facts."

Murphy snorts. "Sure, Watson, keep the delusions coming."

You open your mouth to retort, but the way he's grinning makes you pause. He's enjoying this far too much. You like this expression on him.

"Admit it," you say, shaking your head, "you'd miss me if I wasn't around."

His smirk falters for just a second, something unreadable crossing his face, but it's gone before you can even process it. He shrugs, casual as ever. "I'd miss having someone to argue with, maybe."

You let out a short laugh. "You really are a pain in the ass."

"And yet," he says, meeting your eyes with a sly grin, "you're still here."

You roll your eyes, turning back to the bag you're packing so he doesn't see the way your lips twitch upward. "Don't get used to it."

He grins wider. "Too late."

Chapter Text

You have no idea what has been going on with Clarke and the rest. You've been too busy doing nothing, essentially. Well, nothing major, that is.

Apparently, Clarke had negotiated a truce with the grounders. She had spoken to the commander directly. Like, holy shit, how much did you and Murphy miss? Anyways, everyone's gathered around Clarke, as she's explaining the terms of the truce.

Here you stand with Murphy (how surprising), arms crossed as you listen intently. He mimics your stance, a bored expression on his face.

"If we want a truce, we have to give them Finn."

Your jaw drops slightly, eyebrows furrowed. The ways of the grounders were something you understood, something you had read about when you were young. Only then, it was an eye for an eye. Here, it's blood for blood.

You can't blame them. Finn killed 18 innocent people. He wasn't himself, but it still happened.

The crowd begins to whisper amongst themselves, unsure if they heard her correctly. Then, they start to get closer, more threatening. They all seem to agree, they won't mind giving Finn to the grounders. It'll mean peace, essentially. One death for you all to live.

The situation escalates rather quickly, Raven ready to fight for Finn. She's angry, rightfully so, but her actions only get her dragged away, presumably to get locked up.

Clarke seems to be in shock still, the whole deal making her uneasy. You can't imagine how she feels. Well, you sort of can.

—

You were given a gun. Why, you ask? No clue. Not like you're an "official gunner" or anything but you'll take it, you guess.

Anyways, you turn to your side but Murphy isn't there anymore. You blink, eyes shifting in attempts to find him. Instead, your eyes find Bellamy's. He walks over to you, his jaw tight.

"Follow me." He speaks, and you tilt your head. I mean, no hard feelings towards Finn but are they really going to throw away a truce for one guy?

You follow him and Clarke to where Finn and Murphy sit.

"We're reinforcing our defenses. Doubles on the perimeter." Bellamy tells the two. "No one's getting past that wire."

Your eyes shift to Murphy holding a gun. You raise your eyebrows, and he winks at you.

Finn stands, face looking all sorts of conflicted. "I'll see where they're thin."

Bellamy quickly shuts him down. "No, you should head inside. B corridor would be easier to defend, if it comes to that."

"I'm not gonna hide."

"Right now, we have to think about keeping you safe. I'm going to talk to Lincoln." Clarke responds.

Bellamy nods. "Come on."

Reluctantly, Finn follows him, though not before taking another glance at Clarke. You're left with her and Murphy, head tilted.

She turns to you, "I need you to check everything surrounding the camp. Make sure it's secure."

At her orders, you nod. She's ready to leave but Murphy stops her. "Hey, any orders for me, princess?" He stands.

Clarke pauses. "Stay away from me."

"I was trying to be helpful." He speaks again, making her turn to him once more. Your eyes narrow, about to walk away but you hear her again.

"You were with him at the village."

Murphy seems confused, maybe offended. "I tried to stop him."

"Not hard enough." With that, she starts to walk away.

"You know what? You wanna start blaming people, Clarke?" Murphy's pissed off tone continues. "He was out there looking for you."

Clarke leaves, though you can tell she's feeling guilty. Murphy feels your gaze on him, so he turns around to face you. He's annoyed, his jaw is tight and his nostrils are flared slightly. But beneath that he feels guilty, too.

You shift awkwardly. "Wanna help me check the walls?" You offer.

His gaze finds yours. He pauses for a moment, before nodding. You start walking side by side, in a somewhat awkward silence. You glance at him through the corner of your eye.

"She's just stressed out." You blurt, gripping your gun.

Murphy walks beside you, hands on his own gun. "Aren't we all?" he mutters, gaze still focused ahead.

You let out a quiet sigh, shrugging. "It's not your fault. I know you tried, that's all that matters."

He laughs, bitter. "Seems like you're the only one who sees it that way."

You continue walking, though at a slow pace. "They weren't there. I was." You say, glancing at him once again. "So who cares what they think?"

He stays quiet for a moment. He only nods at your question, in acknowledgement.

—

The next morning, you and Murphy sit in a secluded area. You're leaning against a wall, a little too close to each other. With anyone else, you would've pulled away a long time ago. But since it's Murphy, you don't seem to mind. He doesn't either.

"I miss not being bit by mosquitoes. They're the one thing I think I hate most about Earth." You grumble, inspecting the bites with narrowed eyes.

Murphy laughs, "Not the grounders?"

"No. Mosquitoes." You respond, pulling on your jacket. "It's like I'm a blood bank to them."

Then, Raven pulls you from your conversation. She looks at Murphy though, only addressing him. You find it odd, she typically can't stand him, but whatever.

"We're taking Finn back to the drop-ship. You guys in?" Her offer is even more odd. Her eyes are distant. You imagine it's because of the situation.

You and Murphy exchange glances before you speak up. "I'm in." You shrug.

"Murphy?" Raven asks.

"Why not?" He sighs. When Raven leaves, you turn back to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

"That was weird, right?" Your question only confuses him.

"What was?"

You blink, scanning him. Then you shake your head, standing up and grabbing your gun. "Never-mind."

—

You make it to the drop-ship, only to find Bellamy pointing a gun at you. You raise your hands.

"Murphy. Watson." Bellamy addresses, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Murphy takes a step further. "I believe we were invited." He gestures towards Raven.

"I thought we could use some extra guns." She explains.

Bellamy watches the both of you for a moment before speaking. "Might be a good idea."

"Finn should've been right behind you." Raven says, as Murphy moves past her.

"We didn't see him, but he'll be fine." You reassure, offering her a smile. She returns a nervous one.

A moment later Finn walks in holding an unconscious Clarke in his arms. You all scatter towards him. "What happened?"

"A grounder hit her on the head." Finn answers.

"Put her here." Finn sets her down gently, Bellamy crouching down to inspect her.

"I need a bandage, a wrap, anything."

"I got it. Here." Murphy speaks.

You hold her head, "Clarke?"

"Clarke, can you hear me?" When Bellamy asks, she stirs, groaning. "You're gonna be fine. You just need to rest."

You hear Finn and Raven talking about something, but you don't pay enough attention to it. You move Clarke's head on your lap. When Finn storms out, you exchange a look with Bellamy. Raven quietly follows him.

"When they get back, Murphy and I will keep watch outside." Bellamy speaks, watching as you caress Clarke's hair. "You stay in here with her."

"Sure." You mumble, eyes focused on the blonde in your lap.

—

A little while later, Clarke stirs awake. Her eyes quickly find yours. "Well hello there, gorgeous." You grin. She tries to sit up, and you help her. "Careful, careful."

"Thank you." She mutters, holding her head.

When Finn approaches, you look between the two before standing. You don't wanna third wheel whatever those two have going on, so you shuffle away. Giving them enough space to talk, without it being awkward. At least, you hope.

They have their little moment until you all hear Bellamy's voice. "We got company! Get out here!"

You pick up your gun, running out. Clarke and Finn follow. You get down behind a trunk, checking through your scope. You hear Clarke mutter something about being surrounded.

You relocate, back in the drop-ship. Bellamy and Murphy are peeking their heads outside, while the rest of you stand together. "They're not moving any closer."

"They're staying out of range. They'll be waiting until it's dark."

They both come back inside. Murphy speaks up. "If we hit them now, we take them by surprise."

Clarke shakes her head. "We don't know how many of them are out there."

"I'm not hearing any better ideas, Clarke."

Raven speaks up, pacing. "We'll give them something."

"All they want is Finn." Bellamy counters, eyeing her in confusion.

She hesitates before responding."Finn wasn't the only one at the village." She looks down, refusing any eye contact.

Silence. You study her, then Murphy.

"What are you talking about?" Clarke asks. Her and Bellamy seem to realize the same thing you did.

"Raven, hold on."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Murphy takes a step back. "Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come. You..." He pauses, eyes finding hers. "That's why you asked me to come along?"

Raven merely looks away. "Enough grounders saw him at the village. They'd believe he was the shooter."

"You sick bitch." Murphy hisses.

"This is insane. Raven. He hasn't done anything." You grit, stepping in front of him.

Clarke steps in, trying to deescalate. "Raven, you don't mean this."

"You know what they do to people." Bellamy adds.

"They want a murderer? We'll give them a murderer." You know it's the grief speaking but you really can't stand her right now. When she raises her gun at you, she glares. "Move, Watson."

"Like hell. Put down the gun." You grit. Murphy tries to push you out of the way but you stay firm.

"Put it down, Raven." Clarke speak. "Like it or not, he's one of us." She's trying to calm her, but it doesn't work.

She takes a step forward. "I said, move." But Finn stops her, stepping in between you.

"We're not doing this." He whispers, looking around. "They've got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay and defend this place."

A beat of silence. Then, "I'm with you." Bellamy nods.

"Watson?" Finn asks carefully.

"What?" You spit, eyes still narrowed at Raven. She doesn't meet your gaze.

"Go upstairs with Murphy, watch the rear." He orders. "I'll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That's the plan, alright?"

You pause for a moment, eyes drifting away from Raven to Finn. You nod slowly, making your way up the ladder. Murphy follows, just as tense as you, though probably more pissed off.

Once upstairs, you hear him huff. You turn to him, eyebrows raised. "You good?"

Murphy watches you, expression unreadable. You return his gaze, confused. You're about to walk away when he grabs your arm. Then, he finally says, "That was stupid."

You look down at his hold, blinking. "What was?"

"She could've shot you." His tone is harsh on the surface, but underneath you can tell he's worried.

You shake your head, "She wouldn't." At least, you think. You hadn't really thought ahead before pushing Murphy behind you, it was sort of a reflex. "And she didn't. We're good."

He watches you for another moment, jaw tight. When you try to pull away, his grasp tightens. "I can handle myself." He grits.

Your eyes narrow. "You're really mad at me for defending you? Are you serious?" You cross your arms, feeling a spark of frustration flare up. "I was just trying to help. Sorry if that's such a problem."

He scoffs, glancing away for a second before meeting your eyes again. "You don't get it, do you?" His tone is edged with something sharper than annoyance. "You keep throwing yourself into danger like this. You're gonna get yourself killed."

You huff, still not backing down. "Why should that matter to you?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it, the words stuck on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he just looks at you for a beat longer, the frustration still there, but something else slipping through before he shakes his head. "Forget it," he mutters, looking away.

"Whatever," you mutter back, walking off.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't say anything more.

—

Finn turned himself in. You're all gathered together. The grounders want you to watch as they kill him. This is harsh, you think. Too much. You get they want him dead, he killed innocents, but making you watch? All sorts of messed up.

Clarke's with the commander, perhaps asking her if she can say goodbye? You're not sure, you were standing too far to hear. You stand next to Bellamy, for once, because you're still irritated with Murphy.

They bring Finn out, and you shut your eyes. "This is messed up."

Bellamy nods solemnly, jaw tight.

Clarke had killed Finn. A mercy kill, definitely, but still sad to watch. Especially when you hear Raven's cries in the distance.

Chapter Text

Murphy had a sudden revelation. Though not so sudden, this has been building up for quite some time. But still, it caught him off guard. For a while now, he's noticed how everything seems different when he's around you.

Like how when you smile, it makes his chest feel all weird. Especially when it's directed at him. Or how you chase his touch just as often as he chases yours. Yeah, neither of you are subtle about it. The shoulder nudges? An excuse for contact.

How you always listen to him, even if it's just another one of his snarky comments. And he especially likes the way you comfort him. It's a perfect balance, to him. You're not condescending, you make him feel better without making him feel like a child. Perhaps your banter helps.

Oh yeah, that too. You match his energy. Murphy is, in simple terms, an asshole. You were often called bitchy on the ark. Perhaps you complete each other.

He also notices too much about you. The way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, and your eyes crinkle. Or the way you light up whenever someone praises your work. He knows too much because he watches you. Not in a creepy way, or so he hopes. But you're his favorite thing to look at.

It didn't start out this way. In fact, he had never planned for it to be this way. But ever since he met you, he was drawn in from the start. Ever since you implied he was an idiot, he was hooked.

Does that make him pathetic? Maybe.

Though, maybe not when you feel the same. Not that he knows. Granted, you were hooked ever since his pretty eyes were trained on you. But still, essentially since you first met. And ever since then, you two had basically been inseparable. You two have become a sort of package deal.

Whenever he's alone, he's immediately asked "Where's Watson?"

And whenever he's off to do something, you're always met with "Go with Murphy."

So yeah, a package deal. Which is why it's so odd to see you without him. You were essentially avoiding him, but maybe he was avoiding you too. This wouldn't affect you, it shouldn't. But it does because you've grown attached to the little weasel. It's been a day— maybe less—since you last spoke and you already find yourself missing him.

You're pathetic. Though, he is too, since he misses you just as much. Though not for long, since you were both stationed together to check the perimeter. This would be the perfect opportunity to say something, except you're too stubborn to.

The silence is painfully awkward. The not so subtle looks he throws your way make you regret your silent treatment.

Murphy's mind replayed the previous day, the way you stepped in front of him, putting yourself at risk. He didn't want to be protected, he wanted you safe.

The situation is almost laughable. Both, once selfish assholes, wanting to protect one another.

Meanwhile, you were pissed off. I mean, you half expected him to thank you for coming to his defense, but instead you're met with irritation. One final glance in your direction makes you snap.

"Are you gonna keep looking at me like that?" You huff, breaking the silence.

Murphy stops walking, perhaps he expected you to speak up. He turns to face you, irritated. "I don't understand why you think you need to protect me all of a sudden." When you gape at him, he scoffs. "I can take care of myself."

You were going to strangle him, you were sure of it. Where is your patience when you need it? Not here, that's for sure. You try to count to three, but his expression only irritates you further.

You burst. "Because I care about you, you asshole!" You huff, shooting him a glare. You don't notice the change in his expression. "Against my better judgment, I care about you. So stop being such a dick—"

The next thing you know he's pulling you in. His lips meet yours in a fierce yet desperate kiss, a mix of urgency and pent-up emotion. His touch is demanding, yet vulnerable, as if he's pouring out all the frustration and longing he's kept hidden. One hand is cradling your jaw, while the other trails down to your waist, fingers pressing into you like he's afraid you'll slip away.

For a split second, you're frozen. The shock fades fast, you melt into it. Your hands find his face, trying to reciprocate his energy, trying to show him how you feel. His hold on your waist tightens, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, messy and raw, neither of you holding back.

It feels like forever and no time at all when you pull apart, breathless. Your eyes flutter open, wide in shock as you pant. Murphy only stares at you, the hand on your jaw tracing over your face gently.

After a moment, you shoot him a glare. "You can't just kiss me to shut me up."

He smirks, pulling you back in. "Yes, I can." He murmurs against your lips. The kiss is slower, but no less intense, leaving no room for argument. He pulls you impossibly closer, until all you can feel is him.

Your heart pounds as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips part slightly, and you follow, mirroring his movements, deepening the kiss until it's almost overwhelming.

He pulls back, not before pecking your lips again. "I'm being serious, you don't get to just... throw yourself into the line of fire for me."

Your eyes are on his, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "You don't get to decide what I do."

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "You're annoying."

"You were kissing me 6 seconds ago." You retort, eyes flickering down to his lips.

He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking, "Doesn't change the fact that you're infuriating." His hand still rests on your waist, tracing absent patterns that send shivers through you.

You smirk, tilting your head. "Look who's talking." A pause, in which he admires you with an amused expression.

Then, he pulls you in again.

—

It's getting dark out as you and Murphy sit in front of the fire. It's quiet, which is rare for you two. You're sat close, though not close enough to touch. Typically, you're the one initiating any sort of contact — a light nudge, a quick touch, having your fingers graze his— but tonight, something shifts.

Without any warning, Murphy wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His movements are easy, with little to no hesitation, as if this were a second nature to him.

Your heart hammers against your chest, your breath catching as you glance at him in surprise. You try not to overreact, perhaps not wanting to scare his touch away.

Also, why are you flustered? You've already kissed, this can't seriously be flustering you. Yet, it is.

"You looked cold," he says simply, eyes on the crackling fire.

You blink, processing. In all honesty, you weren't cold, but you'd rather die than tell him that. For once, you don't have a smart remark to say. Usually you'd deflect with a quip, or play fight with him so he doesn't realize how flustered he's made you. But this time you don't.

Instead, you stay quiet. In fact, you even lean into him. Your mind races for a response, something to break the silence but you've got nothing. Not many people stun you into silence.

Just as you're about to say something, his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your shoulder. Your mouth shuts again, your heart skipping another beat. There's something about the way he holds you, something that makes you never want to leave.

When you don't speak, he looks at you, catching your steady gaze. "Not gonna argue?"

You offer a small, careful smile. "Why would I?"

There's a beat of silence as the fire crackles in front of you both. You took a breath, feeling the weight of something unspoken between you two. You like whatever this is, but you're curious. So, you ask. "What are we doing here, Murphy?"

His arm tightens around you slightly, expression shifting as he considers your words. His voice is low when he speaks, a bit hesitant. "I don't know, Watson," he admits, catching your eyes again. "But I like it."

You meet his pretty eyes, and they hypnotize you as they always do. His sincerity made something swirl in your chest. The lack of banter makes you nervous. It's like a defense mechanism. But, at this time, there's no need for it.

"Yeah," you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. "Me too."

Chapter Text

Per your new alliance with the grounders, they're now in camp to train with you. You suppose that's a good thing, having strong allies and such. But the tension in the air is thick. Especially when Kane welcomes them in, telling them to leave their weapons outside.

He starts with a reception. It's clear that not everyone is on board with this. Murphy included. You know he was tortured by some grounders, but you also know they're not all like that. He doesn't see it like that. It's a topic you two avoid.

When Indra walks in, you side glance at Murphy. "Behave, will you?"

He scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips. "When have I not?" You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrow raised.

"Quiet down." Kane speaks, and the muttering stops. "Indra, please." He gestures.

Kane stands in the center, Indra close by. "I know we don't have a lot in common. But we do have a common enemy, and a common goal." His speech begins, as he looks around at the crowd. "And for us to reach it, to get our people out of Mount Weather, we need to work together." He turns to Indra, who glances at him, expressionless. "Ogeda. Skaikru, and Trikru."

Your attention shifts to a grounder who approaches you and Murphy. "You got a problem?" Murphy smirks.

He speaks in their language, but you somewhat understand what he says. "You stood there watching while my village was massacred." And he's pissed. I mean, rightfully so. He gestures at you with his head. "She tried to help but you wouldn't let her."

Murphy remains amused, shaking his head. You're about to speak, to apologize for what happened at the village, but Murphy beats you to it. "I'm sorry, man. I don't speak grounder."

Then, the grounder slaps Murphy's drink out of his hands, causing him to stand up straight immediately. He pushes him back, and the two get in each other's faces.

You rub a hand across your face in disbelief and annoyance. Did he not hear a word you said? It's like he never listens.

"Mr. Murphy." Kane interjects. "Apologize to that man."

"For what?" Murphy spat. "He was the one who came at me."

"Two days work detail." Kane's words catch his attention.

"Work detail? I just told you I didn't do any —"

"Care to make it three?" Kane raises his voice. There's a tense moment, a pause in which nobody moves. Then, Murphy shakes his head and starts to walk away.

The grounder mutters again. "You're gonna burn just like your friend."

So what does Murphy do? He punches him. A whole fight ensues, not just between them but the crowd. Kane tries to stop it, pushing them back, away from each other. "Stop it."

"Murphy! Dammit." You grab him by the arm in attempts to drag him away.

—

While everyone's training, you slip away to visit your annoying friend(Do friends kiss?). You peek your head in, watching as he mops the floor, muttering in annoyance. When you walk in, he doesn't look at you. Perhaps he's not ready for a lecture.

"Shouldn't you be training?" He says, his tone sharp.

You sit on a nearby table, letting your legs dangle. "Training for what? I can already shoot." You shrug, tilting your head.

He shakes his head, a small smirk appearing. "Since when?"

"You should've seen me back at camp. I was a total badass." You grin when he looks back at you, not convinced. "I'm serious, Sterling and I were a lethal duo. Shame he's dead." You sigh exaggeratedly.

He leans the mop against a wall, approaching where you sit. He stands between your legs, close enough that you can see every faint mark on his skin. You reach up, fingers lightly holding his face as you inspect it.

"Did he hit you here?" You ask, thumb brushing against his jawline.

Murphy shakes his head, his hands finding your waist. He watches you carefully. He likes the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, the way you inspect every inch of his face.

Meanwhile, you're sort of spiraling. I mean, his hands on your waist? God, he knows what he's doing. "Good," you murmur, letting your hand linger. "Wouldn't wanna ruin your pretty face."

There's a pause, his brow lifting slightly as he processes the comment. His usual sharp retort doesn't come right away, and instead, he studied you, suspiciously quiet.

Finally, he speaks, his voice as low as yours. "You flirting with me?" He squeezes your waist slightly.

Your eyes —previously on his lips— meet his again. Your smirk widens as you caress his cheek. "Yes."

He stares at you for a beat longer, clearly thrown off by your sudden straightforwardness, but he tries not to show it. His usual cocky grin returns, but there's something soft underneath now. You press a kiss to his lips, quick and fleeting. He accepts it, chasing it as you pull away.

"Thought you were here to lecture me," he murmurs, "I like this a lot better."

A smile creeps up onto your face. "Would you listen to me if I did?" Your hand drops from his face, much to his dismay.

"C'mon, Watson, he started it." He sighs, pulling away slightly. His hands stay firm on your waist, even when you give him a disapproving look.

You tilt your head, "You didn't have to punch him." When his expression starts to look annoyed, you sigh. "I'm just saying, they're our allies now."

"Allies." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Sure."

You watch him for a moment, letting out a sigh. "I know what they did to you, Murphy." Your voice is softer now, "I don't expect us to be friends with them, but we need them, for our people in Mount Weather."

Murphy doesn't answer right away, his eyes lingering on yours. He lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing, and his grip on your waist tightens just a bit. His thumb brushes over your side unconsciously. "Fine," he mutters, voice low and reluctant. "I'll play nice."

Your smile returns, hand cupping his face once again. "Thank you." You mumble appreciatively, thumb brushing against his cheek.

His gaze lingers, something softer beneath the surface. Before you can mention it, he leans in, his lips grazing yours in another fleeting kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes trace over your face, as if committing every line to memory.

"I better go before Kane sees you slacking off." At your words. Murphy gives your waist a gentle squeeze before he reluctantly steps back. "Please stay out of trouble."

He scoffs, smirk returning, "Not much I can do while mopping floors."

You hop off the table, with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sure you'd can find a way."

—

You stand watching the grounders train. The way they move, dodge, and attack is so interesting to you. Perhaps even satisfying. I mean, yes, just a couple of days ago they were going to kill you and everyone at camp. But you admit they're impressive.

Skaikru hides behind guns, but the grounders actually fight. It's admirable.

Meanwhile, Murphy is speaking to Jaha back in the room you left him. It's tense, probably because Murphy can't stand Jaha. "I'm told the graves are unmarked." Jaha speaks, stopping Murphy in his tracks. "You can show me which is his."

Murphy glances back at him, considering it. "You can hold the mop... or you can hold the gun." With that, he's pretty much convinced. "You can bring your girlfriend, if you want."

Murphy's jaw tightens. "She's not my—" he sighs, pausing. "Whatever."

On their way out, Murphy spots you where you stand. He glances back at Jaha who nods patiently. Then, he jogs over to you. When you notice, your eyebrows raise. "Shouldn't you be cleaning?"

He nods his head at where Jaha stands. "He got me out of it. Wants me to take him to Wells' grave." He explains, in a grumble. "I am begging you to come with."

Your lips twitch into a smile. "I don't see a lot of begging." When he shoots you an exasperated look, you laugh. "Alright, fine. You're lucky I'm bored."

—

"It's extraordinary, isn't it?" Jaha follows the two of you, admiring everything around you. You're leading the way, the two males further away from you as they talk.

"Oh, just give it a few days." Murphy responds dryly.

"I may not know everything that happened before I got down here, but I do know something about what you're feeling, son."

"Don't call me that. I'm nobody's son. You made sure of that." You overhear Murphy's words, a frown growing on your expression. You keep walking, perhaps trying to escape the awkwardness.

"I remember your father." Jaha speaks.

Murphy scoffs. "Yeah, right."

"Alex Murphy. Convicted of theft of rationed medicine. He stole it to take care of you." There's a moment of silence, before he speaks again. "I remember them all. Yours too, Watson."

You come to a halt, glancing over your shoulder. When you don't say anything, he continues. "Charles and Evelyn Watson. Both convicted on multiple counts of theft."

You turn to look away, continuing your walk until the drop-ship comes into view. "We're here."

Murphy walks up next to you. "Home sweet home." Jaha takes it in for a moment, before Murphy speaks again. "Graveyards this way."

—

You and Murphy decide to give Jaha some space. Though you're not the biggest fan of him, you can't imagine how it feels to lose a child.

You both sit against a trunk, nearby where the fire usually was. You're quiet at first, perhaps out of respect for Jaha's mourning. It's when you notice his gaze on you that you speak. "What are you looking at?"

He doesn't look away, merely tilting his head to get a better view. "You."

You blink, eyes scanning his face. "...Why?" Your confusion is evident.

He shrugs, "Why not?" He grins, though it's a lot softer than usual. His careful gaze makes you nervous, flustered even. You're not sure how or why he has that power over you.

You can't help but roll your eyes, playing it off. "You're weird." You grumble, looking elsewhere.

Murphy can't tear his eyes away from you. "What's on your mind, huh?"

You falter, your eyebrows furrowing. "It's stupid." You shrug, licking your lips. "I don't want to turn out like my parents." You mutter, exhaling sharply. "Which is stupid because I'm already a thief. But I don't —" You sigh, rubbing your face.

Murphy's gaze trails all over you before he speaks. "They stole because they wanted to. You steal because you have to." He says, as if it was that simple. "You're nothing like them."

You scoff, laughing bitterly. "What do you call the moonshine back at camp?"

"I call that a good time." He smirks, shaking his head. Then he looks more serious, sighing. "I'm serious, Watson. You're a good person." You turn to him as he speaks, expression unsure. "You're my moral compass, my—" he pauses, narrowing his eyes.

He shakes his head again, before continuing. "You're the best person I know, okay? Don't... beat yourself up."

You pause, taking his words in. He's no good at these speeches, but he tried, for you. Your heart does a little flip at the thought.

You're nothing like your parents. Nothing like your mother. You're only surviving. You may not see it like that just yet, but Murphy helps. He's horrible with words, but he helps.

You breathe out, a small smile appearing on your face. "That means a lot. Thank you."

He shrugs, your smile causing his to return. He wants to say something else, but he holds himself back.

—

It starts getting dark, Murphy goes to tell Jaha it's time to go back. You're not sure what they're talking about, but you hear Murphy's voice in the distance. You're standing by the drop-ship, staring at it as the memories all come back. I mean, it hasn't been that long but still. You find yourself thinking of Jasper and Monty.

You miss them. You hadn't acknowledged it, but you do.

Jaha climbs up, making his way inside the drop-ship. You give Murphy a confused glance. "We should be heading back, no?"

"He said we should rest here for a while." He shrugs. "Why argue?"

"You always argue." You retort, eyebrows raised. He rolls his eyes, but his grin stays the same.

In the drop-ship, the two sit on opposite sides. You find it funny. You're about to sit next to Murphy when you realize you left your bag outside. "I'll be back. Lost my bag." You inform. Murphy stares as you walk out, perhaps worried you're leaving his sight.

Now alone, Jaha offers Murphy food, to which he silently declines. "You sure? You must be hungry."

"No one gives anything without expecting something in return."

Jaha lowers his hand. "That's a cynical way to go through life, John." He eats.

Murphy narrows his eyes. "You pull me off work detail, you offer me food. Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance. That's why we went the hundred to the Earth in the first place." Jaha responds.

"What a load of crap." Murphy scoffs. "You didn't give a damn about us. You still don't. That's why you're not fighting for those kids in Mount Weather."

"No, I have to think of everyone." Jaha's words make Murphy look away in annoyance. "I know you don't wanna hear this, but sometimes, you have to sacrifice the few to save the many. Like I said, good can come out of even the darkest acts."

Murphy only seems to get angrier. "Then you can take it from me that no good has come from any of this. I was pardoned, slate wiped clean. I'm still treated like dirt."

Jaha nods, eyes curious. "She doesn't treat you that way."

Murphy immediately knows who he's talking about. Who else? "Watson's different." He mutters, looking away. "She's..." He struggles to find the words, huffing.

"Your better half?" Jaha offers, shooting Murphy a knowing look, to which he merely nods. "Watson is special to you. You want to protect her, don't you?"

Murphy grows impatient, "So?"

"When I first landed on Earth, I met a woman who spoke of a place beyond the dead zone. A place where everyone is accepted. A city of light." Jaha's tone is determined.

"Sounds like a fairy tale."

Jaha quickly responds. "Or a second chance."

"You don't even know if it's real." Murphy's skepticism doesn't affect Jaha.

"You're right, I don't. But I believe."

Murphy smirks, mockingly. "Okay. Well that's good for you, chancellor."

"You and Watson could be happy there. We could all be at peace." Jaha says, but it's mostly to himself now.

Murphy still hears him, pausing in his movements. He mulls over his words. I mean, yeah, they sound crazy but what if? A place where you and him could be together, with no worries about any sort of war?

His thoughts are interrupted when he sees you walk in. "Sorry, I nearly couldn't find it. Can't see shit out there." You sigh, looking between the two.

Murphy places his bag down like a makeshift pillow, and you follow, placing yours a few feet away from his. Your gaze turns back to Jaha, who seems to be in his own world. When you turn back, your makeshift pillow is suspiciously closer to Murphy's.

You raise your eyebrow, he merely shrugs, as if he'd done nothing. You lay down, on your side to look at him. "What's up with Jaha?" You whisper, and suddenly you feel like you're in a sleepover and it's past your bedtime.

Murphy rolls to his side, eyes finding yours. "Something about a fairy tale, city of light, or whatever."

You smile, resting your head against your hand. You hum in acknowledgment, but give no response as you study him carefully. He's annoyingly pretty, as you like to say. Especially with the moonlight peeking through the makeshift door.

He returns your gaze, eyes flickering across your features. Soft, but also concerned. Whatever Jaha said earlier has him thinking.

"Goodnight, Murphy."

"Yeah, goodnight, pretty."

—

The next morning you wake to shouting in the distance. You stir, and when your eyes open you
jolt at how close you are to Murphy. You sit up before he notices, eyes follow Jaha as he exits the drop-ship. Murphy jumps awake, looking up at you in confusion. You shrug, getting up.

You both follow the man, watching as he greets the crowd of people. You and Murphy exchange confused glances before he speaks up. "Hey, what the hell is this?"

"We're going to the City of Light."

Murphy scoffs. "You're going now? There's a million ways to die out there."

Jaha's still determined. "Well; if it's not your time, nothing can kill you. If it is your time, it only takes one."

Murphy walks closer, you follow without thinking. "You even have a map?"

"No."

"Then how do you know where you're going?" He presses.

"We don't." Jaha responds simply. "But I will not be ruled by fear. You wanna stop being treated like a criminal, then you have to stop thinking that's all you are." He continues, as he steps closer to you two. He looks over at you, before watching Murphy again. "Take this leap of faith with me, John Murphy. And let me show you there is so much more for you, than this."

You look between the two, but don't interrupt. You definitely missed something. You're not sure what the hell is going on. When Jaha turns to you, your eyes narrow. "I hope you'll join us too, Miss Watson. Wouldn't you want to be in a place where your parents' name doesn't precede you?" With that he walks off, the people following him.

Well, now you're curious.

You glance at Murphy, who seems to be mulling his words over. You study him as he's deep in thought, admiring him carefully. He hesitates, eyes on the crowd of people as they leave. "They don't even know if it's real."

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. "Yeah, but you're curious, I can tell. So?" You squeeze his hand, looking at him expectantly. He spares you one more glance before tugging you along.

Chapter Text

You were seriously starting to regret this. I mean, full disclosure, you'd follow Murphy to the end of the world, but God do you hate the heat. You knew what you were getting yourself into, but damn.

"Sir, do you recognize anything?" A man asks your newly established leader.

Jaha takes one good look at the landscape, huffing as sweat beads on his forehead. "The tent was near here. I'm sure of it." He continues walking, determination driving him, while you struggle to keep pace, feeling the sun beat down mercilessly.

You sigh, following him despite yourself. Murphy's behind you. "It's hot as hell." You grumble, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, pretty, it's a desert." He nudges you playfully, and you merely grunt in response. When you both reach Jaha, he speaks again. "You see anyone?"

A short pause, then, you all approach a cart, much to your dismay. A grounder— a woman?— suddenly pops out, a knife glinting in the harsh light. You can somewhat make out what she says. "Stay back or I'll kill you."

Jaha doesn't seem all that scared. "We mean you no harm." She falters, eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you speak English?"

"What do you want?" She demands, with a glare. Her grip on the knife tightens.

Jaha shakes his head slightly. "Nothing." Then, he nods over at her cart. "It looks like you could use a hand. What are you doing out here alone?"

She hesitates for a moment, putting away her knife. She reveals her face, and holy shit, she's beautiful. "My brother and I were on our way to the City of Light when wastelanders attacked." She explains. "They took our horse. All our water, everything. They killed him. This cart is all I have left."

Jaha looks back at you all, "Give her some water."

You move to take your bag off, when a man stops you, his hand on your arm. "No, no, no. We barely have enough for ourselves here."

You blink at him, but Murphy interjects, pushing the man away harshly. "Touch her again, and I'll end you."

A pause. You raise a brow.

"...In a non-criminal way." He adds. You snort, making your way over to the woman carefully. You give her your bottle, offering a small smile. She hesitantly takes it, unscrewing it and taking a sip.

"We're on our way to the City of Light as well." Jaha says, and you're only wondering where the hell he got that staff from. "What's your name?"

"Emori." She says, her tone wary. "Everyone in the dead zone is looking for the City of Light. Almost no one finds it. I can get you there," she pauses, studying each of you. "If you pull my cart."

"Done." Jaha responds immediately, turning back to the rest. "Caspian, you're on the first shift."

She turns to you, eyeing you up and down. "Thanks for the water." She returns your bottle, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Sure thing." You blink, momentarily taken aback. When she walks off, Murphy comes up behind you. You grin, looking at him over your shoulder. "In a non-criminal way?"

He rolls his eyes, "I'm redeeming myself."

Your grin widens, you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're doing great."

—

You walk side by side with Murphy, because you're apparently attached at the hip. Your eyes are on this new mysterious woman, studying her. There's something about her that's different. There's definitely more to her story.

"You're staring at her an awful lot. Should I be jealous?" Murphy's mutters close to your ear, pulling you from your thoughts.

You grin, shrugging. "She seems cool." Your eyes leave her for a moment, shifting over to your boy who seems to be in desperate need of attention.

He smirks, "Didn't answer my question. I'm hurt." He puts a hand over his chest, shooting you an overdramatic look in pain.

"You're a child." You roll your eyes, speeding up to catch up to her. When she notices you, she slows down, allowing you to walk with her. "Emori, yeah?"

She nods, tentatively.

You introduce yourself, giving her your full name. "So, why'd you leave home? Why the City of Light?" You ask, eyes finding hers. Murphy trails behind you, giving you space but being close enough to hear.

"If I tell you, you'll see me differently."

"Try me."

—

Okay, so Emori robbed you. After holding a knife to your throat. And then knocking you out. It's nighttime now, as you're all weighing your options. You grunt, rubbing your throat. "So much for making friends, huh?" You grumble.

Murphy merely stares at you, rubbing your back soothingly. "Just you and me again, I guess."

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Probably for the best." You stand, with his help, as you insert yourself into the conversation.

"Sir, I know you're trying to take us to a better place, but look around. We've got no food, we've got no water, and no idea how to find it."

After another moment of discussing, laying out your options. You can keep going, but you might die if you do. Or you can simply return. Part of you wants to go back, to where it's safe, to where you have a guaranteed shelter. But the other part of you is going to follow Murphy, wherever he chooses to go.

And of course, he chooses to keep going. So what do you do? You follow him, despite your inner protests, because what else are you going to do? Besides, you like seeing him so determined.

"I believe this is what they call having faith, John." Jaha speaks, eyeing the boy in a proud manner.

"Faith?" He huffs, halting for a moment. "Nah, I just got nothing better to do."

When you catch up with him, you throw him a smirk. "I gotta say, this new attitude of yours is hot."

"Oh yeah?"

—

Chapter Text

"It's sure be nice to have some sign that we're not just marching to our own deaths." Someone speaks.

Jaha looks over his shoulder, unfazed. "We're not."

Someone else begins. "Hey, tell me if you know this one." The grin in his voice evident.

You smile expectantly, and also at Murphy's complaining. "Not again, please."

"A grounder and a reaper walk into a bar." He starts, despite the groaning. "Bartender looks at the grounder, he says: we don't serve your kind around here. The reaper gets up and leaves."

You snort, earning an annoyed glance from Murphy.

"Haha. You get it? Reapers eat grounders—"

Murphy keeps walking, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. "I will take Jaha's staff and beat you to death with it."

"John." Jaha warns, and you can't help but giggle.

"Stop encouraging him, Watson." He hisses, making you laugh harder.

"They're so unfunny that it's funny." You grin, nudging him. "Quit being so glum."

"Or this one." The man speaks again, you glance at him. "An Arker, a grounder, and a mountain man walk into a bar. Arker says 'I'll take some moonshine.' Grounder says, 'I'll take some too.'" He chuckles before continuing. "And then the mountain man, he says—"

He gets exploded. Literally exploded. You're all thrown back, and you land next to Murphy. The smoke makes it unclear, but you assume he's dead. His leg lands. Screaming. Then another explosion.

You grab onto your head, groaning at the way your ears ring.

"No one move!" Jaha calls out. "We're in the middle of a minefield."

You all exchange glances, before Murphy speaks. "Well, anybody else want a sign?"

—

Per Jaha's orders, you're waiting until sunrise. Your head lays on Murphy's lap as you're curled up. He plays with your hair absentmindedly, deep in thought. His thoughts are mostly about you. And how he's dragged you into this mess, endangering your life.

You shiver, looking up at him to meet his pretty eyes. You feel the need to talk, the need for a conversation. "Is John short for Johnathan?" You murmur.

He nods slowly, hand finding your face. He cradles it gently, much like how you do to him. You lean into his touch, shutting your eyes again. "Jaha calls you John. Makes me kinda jealous." You grin.

"Oh yeah," He mirrors your grin, thumb brushing the sand off your cheek. "Because the chancellor is totally gonna steal me away from you."

You groan, shoving him slightly. "Not what I meant."

He laughs, looking down at you. "So, what? You gonna start calling me John, now?"

"Maybe." You hum, eyes opening to find his. "I like it. Suits you."

There's a pause, before he shrugs. "Coming from you, it sounds different."

You blink. "Different how?"

He doesn't answer right away, eyes meeting yours before darting away again. His fingers brush against your cheek. "It just does."

You can't help the smile that tugs onto your lips as you relax against him. "Guess I'm sticking with it, John."

"Fine with me, (Name)."

You're not used to being called by your name. It's always Watson. Truth be told, you like the way it sounds when he says it. It's not in a passive aggressive tone, like your mother used to say it. Or in disappointment, like your father. Murphy says it so simply.

You shut your eyes again, pressing a kiss to his palm.

—

The sun finally rises. You all stand, ready to continue your journey.

"There. We have the light, and, oh, look... footprints are gone." Murphy huffs, "Sand, it blows."

Jaha glances over his shoulder, then back into the horizon. "Do you see that?"

A pause as you all take in the light. It's enough to keep them going, you? Not so much, but you follow Murphy regardless.

So Jaha leads the way, making a path with his staff. It's excruciatingly slow, and your patience is thinning. The rest of the small group seems to agree, becoming more and more frustrated. "That's 4 down and an infinity to go, Jaha."

Jaha's determination is honestly scaring you. "We will make it, John."

Richards is tripping out. Perhaps it's the starvation, the dehydration or the mere fact that this is taking forever. "I can't take this anymore."

Murphy glances at him. "Calm down, Richards." Then, he turns back to Jaha. "Who do you think it is, anyway? They must have power?" As he speaks, you keep shuffling towards Jaha, slowly but surely. "A shower would be nice right about now. Wash off the rest of Harris."

You grimace. "Gross."

"I can't take this, it's right there!" Richards yells as he suddenly starts to run. Jaha chases after him, dropping his staff as he does. "Richards stop!"

You halt, watching as Jaha tackles the man, landing right before a landmine. You sigh, throwing your head back. "Lucky bastard."

—

You've made it past the mines. Thank God. Though your journey still wasn't over. Because when you climb up, you're met with solar panels. Not a city, not even a village. Solar panels, reflecting the sunlight.

You honestly might strangle Jaha. Murphy speaks for you, frustration clear. "Are you kidding me? This is it? This is what we crossed the desert to find?"

Jaha doesn't seem to accept it, eyes trying to find something, anything. "It can't be."

"Well, guess what. Your enlightened society, it's not a city. It's nothing." Murphy spat.

You shut your eyes, letting out a loud sigh.

"I flew down from space." Jaha exhales, not yet accepting it. "I defied death. It was all for a reason. It has to be."

So anyway you climb down the hill, to take a better look at the panels. Or maybe it's because Jaha feels the need to continue. And hey, you understand, hope is a strong thing. But, you were exhausted.

As was Murphy. "Oh, what a joke."

"It doesn't make any sense. The rest of the world is broken, but these panels are intact." Jaha observes.

Murphy picks up a rock. "Well we can fix that." And he throws it at one of them, successfully shattering it.

Then a drone appears out of nowhere. "What the hell is that?"

So naturally you follow it, because why not? Crossing the desert wasn't enough, now let's follow this possibly murderous drone. It leads you to the shore, where you find a boat.

"Where's it going?"

"I don't know. But we're gonna follow it, in this." Jaha approaches the boat.

You falter, glancing at your companions in utter disbelief. "Is he serious?"

Murphy shakes his head. "Tell me, what level of crazy is too much for you? I'm just curious."

Jaha doesn't seem to care. "We need a boat... a boat appears. This is our destiny. The city of light is out there, and we are gonna find it." He takes a good look at you all. "Now, get in the boat."

You sigh again, because that's all you can do. Despite your better judgment, you get in the damn boat.

Chapter Text

Something took your oar. You're not sure what, but when Richards leans over to grab it, it takes him too. "Richards!"

"There's something in the water!" He gasps.

Jaha doesn't seem to be too worried about the man, more so worried about the oar. "The oar!"

Murphy's helping Richards get back on the boat, but whatever is in the water comes back. It nearly bit off Murphy's arm as it takes Richard away. He screams in pain, until they're eventually muffled as he's taken underwater. You don't see him anymore, all you see is red.

You snap out of whatever shocked trance you were in as you hear Murphy's groans in pain. You rip a piece of cloth big enough to wrap his arm, tightening it as he winces. "What the hell was that thing?" He rasps, huffing as he shuts his eyes.

"We need to row. Now." Is all Jaha says. The thing comes back, and the boat shakes. Craig looks around desperately, searching frantically. "It's back."

"Craig, row." But he's not listening. He's having some sort of meltdown. "Row. Row!" Jaha yells, "Watson pick up the oar!"

You lift your gaze up, away from Murphy. You huff, shuffling over to row, despite the exhaustion you feel. Craig's scared cries don't make things any easier. "We're all gonna die." He breathes.

Jaha pushes him off the boat. You pause in your actions, in horror. "Craig! What the fuck?"

"What are you doing? Craig!" Murphy yells, "What are you doing?" He tries to reach out for him, but Jaha holds him back. "Get off me!"

You watch as Craig struggles in the water, his screams are the only thing you hear. It eats him alive. And all you can do is watch, eyes wide in horror. Your grip on the oar is tight, your knuckles white.

In front of you, Murphy exhales. "What the hell is..." Regaining his strength, he pushes Jaha away in anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He pants.

"Hold on." Jaha holds out an arm. A beat of silence as he looks around. "It's gone. Let's go." He starts to row.

You're sitting in horror, letting out a breath. Literally what the hell?

"Why?" Murphy mutters in disbelief.

"So we can live." He responds, harshly. "Start rowing, Watson."

You blink, the order barely registering. But somehow you start to row, mechanical, the horror lingering.

—

When you make it to the shore, Jaha lunges himself out of the boat, falling into the water. He struggles for a bit, before getting up. He scrambles to the edge of the boat, panting. "John, let me help you."

You feel dizzy. You can barely see. You hear Murphy's breathing, and the way he snaps back at Jaha. "I don't want anything from you."

Jaha pants, "Come on, you're a survivor. We both are." He glances back at the island you find yourselves on, catching his breath.

Murphy scoffs, "Whatever you have to tell yourself to feel better, chancellor."

"Our destiny is out there, John."

"And what about Craig's destiny?"

Jaha doesn't falter. "We sacrificed the few to save the many."

You don't register anything after that, your vision goes black. You exhale shakily, managing a mutter. "John?" But if he responds you don't hear it, you're out cold.

"(Name)?" He stumbles over to your side, ignoring the pain in his arm. Murphy's heart races as he grips your shoulders, "(Name)!" He repeats your name, his voice rough with worry. His vision blurs slightly, his injury doesn't make this any easier.

He curses under his breath, looking up at Jaha, desperation flashing in his eyes despite the anger underneath. "Help me get her out. Now."

Jaha hesitates, calculating, before he finally steps forward, reaching down with a steady hand. Between them, they manage to lift you up, though Murphy's grip tightens on you instinctively, as if scared you'll slip away.

"Easy, easy—" Jaha mutters, noticing Murphy's weakened state.

"Just shut up and pull," Murphy snaps. He stumbles out of the boat, half dragging, half cradling you against him as Jaha steadies the two of you onto solid ground.

Once you reach the sand, Murphy sinks to his knees beside you, struggling to catch his breath. He places a shaky hand against your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in a rare, unguarded moment. "Come on, (Name), wake up," he murmurs, his voice softer.

"She needs rest," Jaha states flatly, but Murphy ignores him, shifting his focus back to you as he adjusts the makeshift bandage on his arm. The blood loss has left him woozy, but the rush of adrenaline keeps him steady, for now.

When he finally looks up at Jaha, he grits out. "I'm done following you."

"We can't stop now." Jaha doesn't back down, even now. He spares your unconscious form a glance.

Murphy sees red for a moment, if he weren't so weak he'd lunge at the man. "Look at her!" He yells, his breathing rough. "Look at me. You're insane."

A drone whirring catches their attention. "Did you hear that?" Jaha looks up, finding it. "Please, whoever you are, we need your help." The drone begins to fly away. "Wait, wait!"

Murphy pants, the pain becomes unbearable. Jaha turns to him, "John."

"We can't make it. Just go." He huffs, looking up. "All right? We both know you want to."

"I'll come back for you, John."

—

The sun is the first thing you see, glaring down at you. You groan loudly, covering your eyes with your arm. Where the hell are you? What happened? Where's—

"John?" You mutter, pushing yourself to sit up. When your eyes focus, you see him laying next to you, eyes shut tight. He looks like he's in pain, and he probably is. "John." You repeat, hand finding his shoulder.

He jolts awake, eyes shifting frantically. Then, when he sees you, he relaxes ever so slightly. "(Name)," he groans as he forces himself to sit up. Your hand raises to help him, pulling him up.

You blink, glancing around before speaking again. "Where's Jaha?"

He scoffs, "Following a drone." His bitter tone is understandable. Part of you is glad Jaha isn't around, perhaps you feel safer. Then, Murphy's voice softens as he speaks again. "You scared me."

You tilt your head, eyes softened. "I'm okay." You murmur, gaze trailing down to his injured arm. "Are you?"

"I'll live." He pauses, watching you for a beat. He looks away, jaw clenched. After another moment, he mutters. "I shouldn't have let you come with me. This... I knew it was dangerous from the start."

"John," you shift closer, reaching out to touch his good hand. "I chose to follow you."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. Look what happened." His gaze drops to where your hands meet, then returning to meet yours, regret flickering in his eyes.

"We knew the risks," you shrug, holding his gaze. "Don't blame yourself. Jaha made it sound like some promise land." You tilt your head, thumb brushing over his knuckles. "Can you stand?"

He huffs, "My arm is bleeding, not my legs."

"Yeah, genius, and you've lost a lot of blood." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself to stand. You brush the sand off your pants as well as you can, before extending your hand.

Murphy stares at it for a moment, before taking it. He stumbles a bit, but he manages. He nods over at the lighthouse, and you glance over your shoulder. "Shall we, my lady?"

You turn back to him, a smile growing on your lips. "We shall,"

—

The lighthouse is nice. Nicer than any place you've ever been to. It has food, drinks, truly anything one could need. As you were both looking around, Murphy turns on the monitor.

"I tried to stop her," a man on the TV speaks, grabbing your attention. "But I lost control. She got the launch codes. It was her. She did it. But it was my fault." His voice is shaky, distraught. Colored in regret, and pain.

You wondered what he meant.

His last words were "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." before he shoots himself. You're both startled, eyes widening as you drop whatever you were holding. You can see him, the way he slumps back onto the couch.

"Containment door sealed." You had heard, and you watched as Murphy ran to it.

The video continues, the man's friends find him, dead. Something about the news, how he — Chris, the now dead man— let someone named Alie out. Who? Something else about radiation, it clicks.

A woman named Alie caused the destruction of Earth, so it seems. This is a bunker designed to survive it. In other words, there's no getting out, no matter how hard Murphy bangs on the door.

You'll die in here.

Chapter Text

Being trapped in a lighthouse bunker sucks. What's even worse is sharing it with a man who doesn't seem to understand the door won't open, no matter what he throws at it. You're rationing your portions, counting them, calculating how long you have. It's not looking so good.

"We have three months." You say, eyes on the food. In frustration, Murphy stumbles down the stairs, scattering around the bunker to find something to open the door. "John." He doesn't seem to hear you. You sigh as he climbs back up the stairs, slamming against the door.

"That won't work." You call out after him, eyes shutting as you grow frustrated. The slamming continues, and his frustrated groans make your eyebrow twitch. "John!"

He huffs, "I don't see you doing anything to help." He grumbles it, but you still hear it. He throws whatever he has in his hands against the door in anger, then moves back down the stairs.

"Because that door is sealed, John." You try to look him in the eye but he walks around you, off to find something new to try. You grab his arm, to catch his attention. "Hey."

His jaw tightens, but he stops. He doesn't meet your gaze, "What?" He snaps, and it reminds you of camp. Back with the whole Charlotte situation.

It doesn't deter you. "The door is sealed shut. Hey, look at me." Despite his annoyance, you try to remain patient, because you'd rather not lose your sanity as well. He reluctantly obeys, eyes glaring, but the anger isn't directed at you. "That door was designed to keep the radiation out. We're not getting it open, okay?"

He breathes, exhaling shakily. "Then what? We die in here?" He scoffs.

You shake your head, "We won't die in here. We'll figure this out," you hold his face in your hands, and he relaxes slightly. "But we aren't getting the door open like that. Maybe there's a control system we don't know about." You murmur, thumb brushing over his cheek.

"We would've found it by now."

"Maybe. Maybe not." You study him for a moment, taking in his ragged breathing, and his tousled hair. "But I need you to calm down, John. I do."

His eyebrow furrowed, confused. "I'm being realistic."

"Realistic or not, I can't think clearly with you like this," your voice is steady yet urgent. "I need you with me right now. So please take a breath."

Murphy hesitates, eyes finding your desperate ones. It takes him another moment, but he relents, his shoulders finally relaxing as he leans into your touch. You're thankful, you need him, or else how are you meant to survive? He's all you got.

—

As the days become weeks, your optimism falters. You don't show it, but you're scared. You thought you could figure something out, but nothing seems to be working. At least Murphy's stopped banging on the door, but you're not sure you like what he's doing now.

He just lays there, there are times when he barely even moves. You worry for him, you should focus on your mental state but he's your priority. Whenever it gets particularly bad, you make a point to sit next to where he lays, may it be on the floor or the couch.

You want him to know he's not alone, that he has you, forever and always. You don't even know if it helps him, but you don't know what else to do. Sometimes, you talk to him. You mutter stories of your childhood, how you'd been stealing ever since you can remember. You spare him the more hurtful memories because you don't think he needs any negativity. Which is also why you don't tell him you're losing hope.

The one thing you look forward to is eating. Because it's the only time of the day when he sits up, and you always share a moment. Even if his eyes are downcast, or empty, you enjoy the silence.

Murphy thinks you're an angel, and that he doesn't deserve what you do for him. He doesn't understand why he can't get up, why he's been so useless. He should be taking care of you, but he just can't. He can't care for himself.

Whenever you're working, trying to find a way out, the guilt eats you alive. Why isn't he helping you? How are you still going? With every day that passes, you don't stop. Perhaps it's the need to keep busy, perhaps it's the fact that you want to live.

He likes it when you talk to him, even when he doesn't respond. He knows you're sparing him the painful details of your life, but still, he appreciates everything you tell him.

He might love you.

—

It's a month and a half in when you break down. You try not to make a sound because you don't want to alert him. You don't need him worrying over you. You're supposed to be the strong one, or so you think. The one that maintains her sanity while trying to find a way out. Sometimes you wish you were as strong as Clarke, or Bellamy, or even Raven.

You miss them, all of them. You wonder if they saved the ones in Mount Weather. You hope Jasper's okay, you hope they found Monty alive. You've never felt this way, you never had too many friends growing up. Now, all you can think of is if you'll ever see them again.

He hears you. Despite you trying your best to muffle it, he hears your cries, your sniffles, and your hiccups. It's like he breaks out of a trance. He sits up almost instantly, following the noise. The bunker isn't that big, he finds you relatively easily.

When he spots you, his heart nearly breaks. You're curled up, hugging your knees as you hide your face. You don't see him yet, pressing yourself further into your skin, but a shaky sob manages to escape.

"(Name)?" His voice is low, and careful, like he doesn't know how to approach.

You look up at him, your eyes red and puffy. Panic rises in your chest, making it hard to breathe. "I-I can't—" you choke out, trying to stop the sobs but failing miserably. "I can't figure it out! The door won't budge, and we're stuck, and I don't want to die in here!" Your voice rises with each word, desperately.

He's beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees and reaching for you, his hands gentle yet firm on your shoulders. "You're not going to die," he reassures you, though he's not sure how he knows that. "We'll find a way out. Just breathe, okay?"

You shake your head violently, tears spilling over as you speak rapidly, hiccuping between words. "What if we don't? We'll run out of food. Nobody's looking for us. I can't think straight, John! I can't do this!" Your voice cracks, and you bury your face in your knees. He's not supposed to see you like this.

"Look at me," he insists, his tone sharp but not unkind. You raise your head, slowly, hesitantly. "I need you to breathe, (Name). In and out, breathe."

You nod, desperately trying to focus on his voice. "I—I don't know how," you admit, your voice trembling.

"Just follow my lead," he says, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. You mimic him, the rhythm grounding you slightly. "See? You're doing it."

It's a small victory, but it helps. You take another shaky breath, "You weren't supposed to see me like this," you whisper, your heart still racing.

He shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. "Why not? You're not alone in here, you don't have to be strong for me." His voice is steady, but he hesitates as he speaks. You suspect he's unsure of what to say.

You lean into him, "I didn't want to burden you," you confess, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

"You could never." He mutters, thumb tracing over your shoulder. "I need you too, y'know. I'm sorry I've put this all on you." He says softly, the guilt clear in his tone.

You shake your head, your heart aching for him. "You weren't in the right headspace, John," you remind him gently.

He lets out a breath, he wishes he could say something else. But his mind is blank, in regret. He should've been there for you, the same way you were there for him. He swears he'll never leave your side, not ever.

He presses a kiss to your head.

—

"Can I help you shave?" You say, out of the blue. You need to keep busy, but there's not much to do when you've searched every nook and cranny of this place.

He, who previously was toying around with a pool ball, looks up at you, confused. "Help me shave?"

"Yeah," you nod, scooting across the couch to where he sits, "Your beard is growing out." You lift his chin, scanning his pretty face. "I promise I won't cut you."

He pauses, breath catching slightly. He admires your beauty right back, eyes finding your lips. "Alright." It's worth it to see your growing smile, as you tug him along to the bathroom.

You pull up a stool for him to sit on as you grab a razor. "Stay still," there's no shaving cream, so you honestly might butcher this completely. You just hope he doesn't get too upset.

As you get to work, completely concentrated, he watches you with a foreign emotion swirling in his eyes. To think he once said he didn't need you, what a fool he was. Now he can't think about being without you. Being trapped in a bunker is horrible, but you make it much less horrible. Just by being there, you brighten him, you make his shitty days better. He's so thankful you exist, that you care for him, and that you're here.

He feels the razor against his chin, snapping him away from his thoughts. Your eyebrows are furrowed, as they always are when you're in the zone. He finds it cute. He merely prays you don't mess him up too bad, though, even if you did, he'd forgive you. He'd act upset but give in to you.

"All done," you say after a while, tilting his head slightly so you can admire your work proudly. "You look good."

He smirks, though it's weaker than usual, "Oh so I looked ugly before?"

You roll your eyes, dabbing his face with a cloth to get rid of any excess hair. "As if. You know you're handsome." You retort, lowering the cloth.

You don't know where it comes from, but suddenly his lips are on yours. His hands are on your waist, fingers squeezing you desperately as if he's scared you'll slip away. The kiss is so sudden, but you respond quickly. It's like he's melting into you, savoring every second of it.

There's a quiet urgency behind it like you're the only steady thing in his world — because you are. He pulls back just enough to breathe, his eyes searching yours. Before you can ask, he tilts his head and kisses you again, slower this time, taking his time to memorize every detail. One of his hands trails up to hold your face, the other rests in its rightful place on your waist.

When he finally pulls back he doesn't go far, lips ghosting over yours as if he's holding himself back. You're left stunned, I mean yes, you've kissed before but not like that. Your eyes flutter back open, flicking between his in confusion. "What was that for?"

He stares, eyes soft. "I can't appreciate my girl?"

Your heart stammers, tilting your head away. You clear your throat. "You should appreciate me more often." You tease, but he responds in a tone so serious it makes your heart skip another beat.

"I will."

—

Murphy makes things easier, at times he makes you forget where you are, and the fact that you're trapped. You only wish you had that effect on him, too. Because despite everything you try, he still seems out of it.

You understand, you do, but with time you've accepted that you'll probably die here. But again, you can't tell him that. Even if he told you not to be strong for him, you will be. If not for him then for yourself.

You finally made friends and grew close to people. Why must you lose it all now?

Not all, you suppose. You still have Murphy.

You appreciate the moments when he holds you, but you much prefer it when you're holding him. It's only when he's especially down that it happens, but still. He tucks his face against your neck, arms wrapped around you. At times he plants a kiss on your neck, which you shiver at. Every time you do, his smirk appears, even if faint.

Tonight, your hand rests in his hair, brushing through it absentmindedly. When he's quiet for too long, you murmur. "Stay out of your head, John." It's soft, he only hears you because of your closeness.

"Kind of hard when we're stuck here," he mutters, his arms tightening around you.

A beat.

With newfound confidence, you pull away slightly. Your hand finds his cheek, making sure he's looking at you. You clear your throat, "Can I help?" Your fingers brush against his jaw.

Instead of answering, Murphy's lips curve into a soft smirk, a look that sends your heart racing. He props himself up, closing the distance between you. There's a moment where everything fades away. The fear of death disappears.

He kisses you, slowly, and deliberately, trying to convey what words can't. The hand on your waist grips you tighter, his thumb snaking under your shirt, pushing it up slightly.

You feel dizzy, pushing into him, because you don't feel close enough. The kiss deepens. If you weren't lying down you're sure you would've fallen with its intensity. When he pulls back, there's a flicker of something in his eyes that speaks of desire and unspoken promises.

He looks down at where his hand rests, where it's pushed up your shirt, though not enough to reveal anything. Then, he looks back at you. He's asking for permission, at which you smile. A gentleman, truly.

When you're pulling him back in, he understands. Capturing your lips in another heated kiss, this one is different, fueled by tension and urgency. One of your hands trails down to scratch his shirt, and he seems to take the hint. This time when he pulls away, he swiftly takes his shirt off, and you follow suit. A pause, in which he admires you carefully, his eyes trailing over you.

When he kisses you again, it's brief, because he quickly trails down to kiss your jaw, then your neck. He seems to like it there because he peppers kisses all over. You sigh pleasantly, as he worships you.

In this moment, you forget the weight of everything. All you feel is him, the way he makes you feel alive. Or the way he pushes into you, muttering how beautiful you are, how thankful he is to have you, as his touch trails lower.

—

You've run out of food now. It's only a matter of time before the inevitable happens. You tried to delay it there were days in which you skipped eating just to survive longer. But alas, it didn't change much. Murphy's recording himself on a camera he found, muttering about how long you've been stuck, how he can't believe he misses the ark. You barely hear it, rummaging through the bunker like you've done countless times. It's when he yells that you jolt, your head whipping around to look at him. He doesn't turn, simply turning off the camera with a muffled cry.

Normally you'd comfort him, cradle him in your arms to soothe him with false hope. But you can't today, you don't have the strength to.

Containment door released. The robotic voice says.

You stand, turning to look in the direction of the door. Murphy does too, scrambling over to it quickly. You hesitate but eventually follow, watching as he pushes the doors open. He looks at you from over his shoulder, both shocked and relieved. When you step out, your eyes narrow due to the light. It's been so long since you've seen the sun, the surface. Part of you thinks you're dreaming like you often did. But it's real, the breeze grounds you. The sight of the trees. A... drone whirring?

It takes off, expecting you to follow. Before you can protest, Murphy runs after it. You pause, weighing down your options, but as Murphy gets farther away you grunt in protest, following after him.

You both stumble a couple of times, in exhaustion. As you take a minute to breathe, you realize you've run up a hill. You pant, lifting your head. Then you see it. A mansion, huge, beautiful. You've never seen one before. Perhaps in another life, you'd be living in one.

You both run in, Murphy falls as soon as you enter. You huff, crouching next to him. Before you can say anything, a voice speaks. One you recognize, one you hoped you'd never hear again.

"John. (Name)." Jaha walks down the hall, his tone much too casual for your liking. "There you are."

"Jaha?" Murphy mutters, pushing himself to stand, you help him, grabbing his shoulder as he struggles. He's much too weak for this, he should take it easy. But he doesn't, because he's a stubborn little weasel.

"Welcome." He struts closer, "We have so much to talk about, and so little time." He stops right in front of you, "I found it. The City of Light is real."

Murphy tries to control his breathing, raising his head to glare at Jaha. Then, "You left us there!" He swings, but it's weak as he falls. Jaha catches him, scooping him up.

He turns to you, "He's too weak. He needs rest." Jaha explains, carrying Murphy down the hall. Your eyebrows furrow as you follow closely behind.

"You've been up here this whole time?" You spat, breathing ragged. "You didn't think to help?"

He doesn't turn to you, just keeps walking. "You were safe in there."

"The hell? Look at him." You grit, gesturing towards Murphy. "We were losing ourselves in there."

He spares you a glance, "You need rest too." Is all he says.

—

You don't notice when Murphy wakes up, because you're honestly looting the house. Once a thief, always a thief, you suppose. Though is it so wrong when it belongs to no one? You found a bag, stuffing it full of anything interesting.

You'll admit, it's not all useful, but you think you deserve a little luxury.

You're halfway through stuffing an old compass into your bag when Murphy's voice comes from behind you, dry and unimpressed.

"Didn't take you long, did it?"

You glance back to find him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes flicking over you. His brows lift as he looks at what you've gathered, and you're certain you catch a glint of amusement.

"You're awake. Jaha tell you about the City of Light?" You ask, inspecting some papers discarded on a desk. You toss them, searching for something else, perhaps shinier.

He sighs, the mention of his name annoying him. "Yeah. Which is why we're leaving." He says, flatly. "Put it back."

You huff, "Come on, it's not like anyone's going to miss this." You argue.

"Put it back," he repeats, deadpan, though you can tell he's fighting a smirk. "I don't think a sack of broken junk is going to help much out there."

Reluctantly, you roll your eyes and start putting the items back, tossing a faintly dramatic sigh his way. "You're no fun, you know that?"

He smirks. "And you're ridiculous."

—

Chapter Text

You hitched a ride with Emori. Yes, the same Emori who held a knife to your throat, robbed you and knocked you out. Hey, it was better than rowing. You should be wary around her, but you can't help but be intrigued. You assumed you missed out on a lot while being in the bunker.

Quick recap, Emori decided to steal a— bag? You're not sure what it is, but it seemed important. I mean, who are you to resist a good swipe? Granted, the man— Gideon?— nearly killed her for it, but he was handled. You were on the run with it, because you figured Jaha would want it back.

You bring it back to the boat, trying to figure out how to open it. Murphy merely watched as you fumble with it, as you mutter in frustration. "This really necessary?"

You raise your gaze, "You didn't let me take anything from the mansion. Let me be happy." At your pleading expression, he relents, rolling his eyes.

“As soon as Otan gets here, we can leave." Emori says, cleaning the blood off her. She walks over to where you two sit, "Whatever's in there, we'll
split it four ways."

Emori manages to get it open. You blink down at what you see, sighing. How disappointing, it's just the AI. You thought for sure it'd be something valuable, but alas.

“Stupid son of a bitch brought her with him." Murphy mutters.

“Brought who with him?" Emori asks, confused. Before you get the chance to explain, your attention is drawn by Otan. "Took you long enough." She says.

“You shouldn't have opened that." He walks up to you three.

“We needed to see what we had. Check it out."

He crouches down and shuts it, typing something into it. "... You're not wearing your scarf." Emori says, watching him. You all stand abruptly.

“How'd you know how to do that?" Murphy asks, taking a step back, backpack in hand.

Otan merely stares, "Give me the backpack, John."

Murphy scoffs, sardonic smile growing on his lips. "No."

It's when Otan holds a knife to his sister's throat that it clicks. The chip, he must've taken it. Made him all crazy, like Jaha. Murphy threatens to throw the pack in the water, and that seems to make him and Jaha back down. They let her go, and she stumbles into your arms.

“You okay?" You mutter, but before she responds, Murphy glances over his shoulder and speaks.

"Get in the boat."

—

You've grown to like Emori. She seems a lot like you. There was no code on the ark between thieves, but there was a mutual understanding. It's why you respect Miller, and now, why you respect Emori. But you're not the biggest fan of your current schemes.

One of you lies on the road, faking their death. When a traveler is lured in, either to help or to steal, the other two jump out and steal from them.

Now, were you previously stealing from Jaha? Yes. But that's a different story. Jaha deserves it, besides, none of those things were actually his. This, however? It doesn't feel as good. It doesn't give you that adrenaline rush that it should.

Now you reside in a cave for shelter. Your gaze is distant as Murphy asks where to next. Something is telling you to go back to camp, to find your friends. You've done this scam enough times, you're through with it.

Emori wants to go find her brother. Which is understandable, but Murphy disagrees. Going after him means chasing after Jaha, and truthfully you're in no mood to see him.

After some back and forth, she chooses to go on her own.

Murphy turns to you, noticing your unusual quietness. He approaches slowly, crouching down next to you. Your gaze stays on the fire, watching as it crackles away.

“We should go with her." You mutter, "Back to camp."

“We can't." He moves to sit, eyes never leaving your figure. "It's too dangerous. Something about a war, with some Ice Nation." He explains, but you see beneath it.

Your gaze turns to him, eyes narrowed. "Wouldn't camp be safer than playing road bandits?" You challenge, eyebrows raised. His jaw clenches, and now he's looking away like a scolded child. "You've been avoiding camp since we got out of that bunker. Why?"

He hesitates, avoiding your patient gaze. "I left for a reason, (Name). Because even after being pardoned, I was treated like dirt." He breathes, before continuing. "Clarke blamed me for not stopping Finn, even though it wasn't my fault." He clenches his jaw again.

You soften, letting out a sigh. "It's been three months, John. If the rumors of the war are true, then you'd be the least of their concerns." You say, watching your tone. "Things could be different now."

“Or not." He grumbles.

You sigh, eyes shutting. You breathe for a moment, in attempts to summon all your patience. "John," you raise a hand to tilt his head. When he looks at you, you continue. "I miss my friends, so much. I don't even know if Jasper and Monty are alive. We've been gone for too long."

He relaxes slightly, perhaps at your touch. You speak again, "I know how they treated you, I was there. But things could be different," you repeat, hand cupping his face. "Things will be different." You speak with more certainty.

He doesn't look as convinced, but his eyes are much softer now. "How do you know that?"

“I'll kick their asses if they give you a hard time."

He grins, dipping his head down to hide it. "Right." He snarks, rolling his eyes, "Because you're so strong."

“I'm serious, I'll tell them off. If it gets physical, I'm kicking ass." You say, and Murphy finds it ridiculous. You smile, "Can we please go home?"

A beat. Then, "I am home."

Your heart stammers, your eyes trailing over his face. It takes you a moment to recover. You clear your throat, "Sap."

He laughs, and steals a quick kiss. "I thought you liked playing bandits with me."

You pause, tilting your head. "Reminded me of my parents too much." You scrunch up your nose, gaze trailing away. "Sometimes I can't help it, but I want to do better."

He watches you for a moment, "You are better. You're not like them." The way he says it, so genuinely. It almost washes away all your fears and insecurities. “But… maybe going back wouldn’t be so bad.”

You light up almost instantly, a smile gracing your features. “Thank you, John.”

He sighs dramatically, “If they throw rocks at me, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh they might. But I’ll throw them back.”

—

Alas, you never make it to camp. Apparently you’ve made a name of yourself with the grounders. Stealing in the commander’s woods is punishable by death. Bit dramatic, isn’t it?

“We know it’s not just you two. Where’s the other girl?” The grounder demands, a blade at Murphy’s throat.

Why can’t you catch a break? You huff, stiff against the arms that hold you in place. “She left.” You manage, only for the grounder to wrap an arm around your throat. It’s hard to breathe, yet, “Just us.” You cough.

Another grounder rummages through your bags, your loot falling on the ground. You grit your teeth. The grounder pauses as a chip falls out. “Wait!” He interjects, in their language, “The sacred symbol.”

“Where did you get this?” The one holding Murphy demands.

And, as always, Murphy’s mouth might save you. Or kill you, who knows.

“I guess if you kill me now, you’ll never find out.”

Then, you’re taken away.

So much for camp.