Bellamy was having a ridiculously long day. There was nothing in particular that made it long, it just was. He had to admit, this was happening more often lately, ever since Clarke had found out about their impending doom.
And so it was that Bellamy found himself at the makeshift Arcadia bar, for the third day in a row, hoping for something to happen. And for the third day in a row, he found himself wishing that something would blow up so that an emergency meeting was called. Technically he wasn't meant to be part of the emergency meetings, not after everything he'd done with Pike, but Clarke always managed to get him in.
A strange thing that he'd found was that people were always willing to voice their opinions about him, but never about Clarke, despite the fact that Bellamy was infinitely more likely to put a bullet between his criticisers eye's. Everyone knew that Bellamy didn't take kindly to being told to "Float himself", but in more recent times, he'd resolved to just take it and move on. Often he considered that maybe he deserved all the hate, he had near enough singlehandedly started a war, but of course he never mentioned this around Clarke, because he knew exactly how she'd respond, and it would take a long time, and she would be right, and he did hate being wrong.
In recent weeks, Bellamy had noticed that Clarke was less her positive self. He knew that she put on her "brave leader" act whenever other people, especially her mother, were around. But when they were alone, just the two of them, sitting in silence round the open fire, contemplating whatever new pothole life had thrown in the road, he could see the sadness - possibly regret - in her eyes. He hadn't confronted her about it, because she knew that he was there to talk, and he knew that when she was ready to talk, she would.
He brought the cup filled with a drink reminiscent of alcohol to his lips and took a deep swig, usually, if he drank a few cups, and waited long enough, something would go wrong and someone would need his attention. On better days he would hope for something more interesting, like a short in the fence, but today he'd take just about anything, except a collapsed latrine, because not a person on earth, except maybe Murphy, deserved to go through the hell that was Latrine duty.
Sure enough, after maybe his 5th cup, he lost count a while ago, Monty came running to take the seat opposite his.
"Bellamy, Murphy's being a dick in the 3rd delinquent tent" He said gently, fully aware that Bellamy was obviously half-way through a few drinks.
"Why bother me Monty? If Murphy's annoying you, take your problem up with him" Bellamy replied, he wanted to do something, but it would take too much effort to get off of his ass just to put Murphy on his.
"I did, I took them right to his face. That's when he started taking people's stuff, food, water, stuff they had worked hard for, and threatened to beat up anyone who tried to stop him. I didn't want to resort to violence-" Murphy tried to explain
"You're telling me that you did not want to punch Murphy in the face?" Bellamy interrupted
"Fine," Murphy admitted, "Harper didn't want me to resort to violence, so i figured maybe i could get you to scare him straight?"
Bellamy sighed "Look Murphy, he's not bothering me personally, and we both know that if i go in that tent, he's gonna provoke me, and i'm gonna shoot him through his arrogant face"
"But if you don't, I will instead, and do you really want to miss your opportunity to be the one to put that bastard six feet under?" Murphy reasoned
"Alright" Bellamy said with a chuckle "That was very well played Monty. Ok. You've convinced me, lets go." He placed one hand on the table and one on his stool and pushed himself into a standing position.
As they made their way over to the tent in question, Bellamy idly checked the safety and magazine on his handgun, as he often found himself doing in situations that involved Murphy. Monty opened up the flap, but before stepping in, Bellamy handed him his spare sidearm, and gave him a knowing nod. Monty nodded in return and tucked the gun into his waistband, understanding what Bellamy was expressing.
He walked into the tent, not surprised to find Murphy chugging what looked like water from a small tank that obviously wasn't his. He contemplated letting the scene play out to see what happened, but he figured the sooner he dealt with Murphy, the sooner the problem would be over.
"Murphy, what do you think you're doing" He said, in a calm voice that he hoped radiated confidence and authority
"What does it look like i'm doing Bellamy? I'm doing whatever the hell I want, which i thought that you advocated. Now, which one of you brats ran to get the big brother?" Murphy called to him in a voice too loud for inside a tent. Monty poked his head round the corner, obviously feeling safer now that Murphy hadn't shot Bellamy on sight. "Oh Murphy you little bitch. It was you wasn't it? Well how about next time you go cry to your mummy instead?"
Bellamy saw Monty's face harden, saw him reaching for the gun at his waist. Part of him wanted to let him reach, wanted to watch as his hand found cold steel, watch as he put a bullet through Murphy's stupid mouth. But instead he raised a hand, and pointed a single finger to his temple, imploring Monty to Think. Monty saw him, blinked a few times, and returned his arm to his side.
Murphy saw that move and laughed "What? No fireworks? It's funny you didn't show your own family that same restraint." Bellamy didn't have to look back this time, he new Monty would look angry, but would have it under control.
"Murphy," He spoke up, "I want you to know how grateful I am for the help you gave in saving Clarke's life at polis. And for that gratitude, i'll give you one chance, i'll allow you to walk away. If you put everything down now, and leave before anyone else gets upset, there will be no hard feelings." He turned to look over his shoulder, "Right Monty?".
Monty took a minute to respond, and Bellamy understood, the kid had obviously been put through a lot, but he recognised the possibility of peace, so he swallowed and replied "Yeah, no hard feelings."
Murphy took a moment to look deep in thought, pretending to contemplate the offer. "Tempting, but no, that wouldn't be any fun. Although I am surprised that you're trying to fix this without the princess, Bellamy. I didn't know you could even piss without her assistance" Murphy snickered as the last jab left his mouth.
Bellamy's gut tightened and his right hand subconsciously crept towards the gun at his back. He took a deep breath before responding. "Murphy, this is your last chance, because I promise you that if you bring Clarke into this, I will hurt you, and as much as i hate it, i will take great pleasure from the act, and not a single person here will lift a finger to stop me". He felt his voice wavering at certain points, but he hoped that it had remained mostly stoic throughout what he hoped was a threatening speech.
"Oh, what's wrong Blake? Did i hit a nerve? Because whilst you're here defending her honour, she's most likely off at Polis looking for the next grounder to slip into bed with" Murphy said, with a devilish grin "You do know why she spent so much time with Lexa right? Let me tell you, it was not the war meetings"
Bellamy clenched his jaw and avoided saying the first thing that came to mind, "What Clarke does in her own time is her business, not mine, and especially not yours."
Murphy's grin faltered, obviously annoyed that Bellamy hadn't exploded as he'd hoped. "Of course it's my damn business, it's the business of everyone here. When one of our own goes turncoat, and starts sleeping with the enemy, they should be shot."
Bellamy's hand was raised with his gun pointed at Murphy's head before he knew what he was doing. He saw Monty with his gun raised in a shadow position in his peripheral vision. "Murphy, I don't want to shoot you, but I will. So put everything down, and walk away"
"When they start spreading our secrets, when they start getting out people killed. Then they should be hung. I remember what it was like to be hung, do you Bellamy? The noose tightening around your neck as your brain struggles to function without blood flow or oxygen?"
Bellamy did not enjoy the memory that he flashed back to. "Of course I remember, and i am truly sorry for what happened to you, but if you-" He was interrupted
"Mention Clarke one more time? Come on Bellamy, why are you so protective of that slut? It's not li-"
Bellamy fired a single shot over Murphy's shoulder, near enough that Murphy knew it wasn't a misfire. He could see monty's hands shaking next to him. "The next one goes between your eyes Murphy, think real hard about this."
Murphy's grin faded, but returned after a second, he began to walk towards Bellamy. "Oops, did i get a bit close there? Hurt your feelings, because if you think for one second" he stopped centimetres away from the barrel of the gun "that I am afraid of you just because you have the gun, then you are very -"
Bellamy had been waiting for him to make the move, he knew he would, and it was all the excuse he needed. As soon as Murphy's hand came up to grab the gun, Bellamy pointed it slightly to the left, and pulled the trigger. Suddenly a small chunk of Murphy's right ear was missing, simply gone, replaced by red blood slowly beginning to pour out. Murphy let out a yelp of pain, and Bellamy was ashamed to say he enjoyed the sound. Murphy fell backwards and brought his hands up to cup the wound, as the blood was beginning to gush through the gaps in his hands.
Bellamy counted to ten in his head, keeping the gun trained on Murphy the whole time. When he reached ten, he gently called over his shoulder "Clarke". He heard a shuffling behind him, and he knew that she was there.
"What is it?" She responded in her gentle voice, partially alarmed at the scene before her.
"Call the infirmary, tell them it's a code purple" He called back over his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on Murphy.
"Why a code purple?" Clarke responded almost immediately
"Because that's what colour Murphy's face will be if he ever mentions you again". When he finished the sentence, he holstered his gun and turned around, knowing Murphy wasn't stupid enough to try anything. As he reached Clarke, she turned on her heel walked out beside him. He collected his gun from Monty and gave him a reassuring pat on the way out.
On their way to the Bar, Bellamy had a nagging question. "You knew what my code purple joke was going to be didn't you?" He asked.
"Of course I did" she replied with a curt smile.
"Then why'd you ask what a code purple was?" He queried further.
"Because I knew you needed the set up" She glanced at him.
"Indeed I did" he mumbled, truly appreciative of how amazing the woman before him was.
"Ok, my turn. How did you know I was in the tent? Could you Feel my presence?" She asked, as they sat down and ordered the strongest drinks on offer.
He chuckled, "Because there was a gun shot, and Clarke Griffin always arrives at the scene of a gunshot within a minute, carrying bandages and varying degrees of medical advice".
She looked into his eyes when she replied "You know me too well".
Bellamy glanced down at his cup, before taking a swig. He placed it on the table and he watched Clarke, as she looked at the fire, the red embers reflecting off her irises in the most beautiful way. "Indeed I do" He muttered to himself, "Indeed I do".