"Ghosts"

Lucawindmover

It hadn't been a good day.

To everyone else, it was just a regular day, one with the sun shining and the warm spring air filled with pollen and the fresh scent of budding trees. The frost had finally been dispelled and flowers were blooming throughout the forest, animals were coming out of their winter hiding places and birds were singing. The peace with the Grounders had been without incident for a couple of months now and everyone saved from Mount Weather had finally recovered from their injuries.

By all accounts, Murphy should have just been happy to be alive on such a beautiful spring day. And yet, he was miserable.

His birthday had never been something to celebrate when he was young. His parents hadn't been able to do much before his father had been floated and after…well, there hadn't been anyone to celebrate with. So, Murphy had just stopped thinking about birthdays altogether. Until he'd been arrested anyway and his birthday had taken on a whole new meaning. The day had suddenly become something to fear rather than celebrate. He had no hope of surviving the trial after he turned eighteen. His had been a violent crime, he had no discernable skills, and he had no surviving family. There was no way he'd be pardoned.

Murphy spent a year and a half dreading this day, certain that it would be the day he died. It wasn't so easy to shake off that feeling, regardless of the fact that they were on the ground now. So, today he had tried to avoid anyone he actually liked because he knew his filter wasn't on and he didn't want to piss anyone off. As the warm afternoon wore into the evening, he'd managed to avoid all of his friends and tucked himself away in his favorite hidey-hole—a little stretch of fence that he knew was Raven's responsibility. Raven wasn't working tonight so he was sure she wouldn't happen by and accidently incur his wrath.

When he heard footsteps coming his way, he groaned, thoroughly expecting them to be Raven's. But as he listened, he realized it couldn't be her. While Raven's limp wasn't as pronounced as it used to be, she still didn't walk as swiftly as she used to. Whoever was advancing on him now had no impediment.

"Murphy?"

His head snapped up. This was the last person he'd expected to seek him out. "Clarke?"

"Yeah, hey," she answered as she approached. "I need you for something. You busy?"

"Go away, Princess," he grumbled, turning back to stare beyond the fence.

"Don't—" she snapped and then took a deep breath. "Don't call me that, Murphy. Just…look, if anyone else could help me, I'd ask them. But I need you for this."

Murphy smirked and slid his eyes to the side, taking in her crossed arms and deep frown. "You haven't been talking to Raven by any chance, have you?"

"Talking to her about what?" she asked, shaking her head.

Murphy chuckled low in his throat. "Nothing. Never mind," he replied. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"No."

He groaned and pushed himself up, brushing dirt off the back of his pants. "Fine. Lead the way then, Pri—" he stuttered under the glare she shot him. "Clarke," he finished with narrowed eyes.

She turned and stalked off toward the med tent. He followed at a distance, still not sure this was a good idea. Not that it mattered. He'd kind of gotten used to doing stuff that wasn't a good idea. But things had finally seemed to settle between him and Clarke and he wasn't sure that was a boat he wanted to rock right now.

When Clarke got to the tent, she turned and beckoned for him to follow her in. She held back the flap until he caught up with her, letting it drop behind him as he stepped inside.

She led the way over to her workstation. He knew it was hers because she'd been the one to change his bandages after the Battle of the Mountain, making sure the empty space where he'd lost the last two fingers on his left hand didn't get infected. He had spent a lot of time in this space over the course of the last few months.

"What are we doing here?" he asked finally as she drew up an extra chair and motioned for him to sit. "My hand is fine."

"It's not about your hand," Clarke said as she pulled two metal cups out of a drawer in the makeshift desk she had in her space. She took the lid off a canteen and poured clear liquid into each of the cups. Even from this distance, Murphy could smell the moonshine and he frowned. Clarke wasn't one to drink very often.

"Then what's this about?"

She sighed and handed him one of the cups. "It's about your birthday."

Murphy almost choked on the mouthful of burning liquor. He swallowed it down awkwardly, noting how her eyes were searching his face. "How do you know it's my birthday?"

Clarke shrugged. "It was on your chart. Hard not to notice with all the time you spent in here."

"Okay. So it's my birthday," he said, clearing his throat. He took another swig of the moonshine, knowing he would likely need every drop to get through this conversation. "It's nothing to make a big deal over."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Why the hell would they?"

Clarke frowned and took a long sip of her drink, grimacing at the burn of it. "Look, it's your eighteenth. That actually is a big deal. You didn't tell any of your friends about it?"

Murphy laughed and downed the last of what was in his cup. He hadn't eaten dinner and he could already feel the heat growing in his chest from the alcohol on an empty stomach. He put the cup on the edge of the desk and Clarke refilled it. "What friends?"

"Bellamy. Raven," she answered. "Me."

"We are not friends," Murphy said with a smirk, taking the cup back.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Well we're not enemies."

"That's not the same as being friends."

She pursed her lips and then shook her head, taking another sip from her cup. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Ha," he said, kicking his feet up and propping them on the edge of her desk despite her exasperation. "Never expected you to agree with me on something."

Clarke smirked at that, turning a blind eye to his boots in her workspace. "Me either."

They were quiet for a few minutes, Clarke sipping her drink and Murphy draining his second cup. He could feel his head swimming now and he wondered why she'd brought him here to get him drunk.

"Why aren't we friends?" he asked, proud that his words were still coming out coherently. He held on to his empty cup. He didn't want her to fill it again because he'd feel obligated to drink it and then he would be really screwed.

Clarke searched his face, thinking about his question intently. "Do you still blame me for you almost getting hanged?"

Murphy frowned. "Do you still blame me for Charlotte jumping off the cliff?"

"Well I guess that answers why we're not friends," she said softly, staring down at the contents of her cup.

"Yeah," Murphy replied. But he couldn't turn his gaze away, his eyes mapped her face as her mind seemed to be turning something over and over.

It was quiet again for a while and Murphy contemplated getting up and leaving. But where would he go? Back to his little hiding place by Raven's gate? To the bunk he shared with Bellamy? There wasn't a place to wander off to that was any better than where he was now. So he leaned back in his chair a little and got more comfortable, wondering what was weighing so hard on his company.

"You know," Clarke said eventually, breaking into the silence. "I blame me, too."

Murphy frowned. "For which thing?"

"Both," she answered, looking up and meeting his eyes in the dim light. "For all of it. At the time…I thought you deserved it, I guess. But I didn't know anything. So I guess I just wanted to apologize, really apologize."

He furrowed his brow and tapped his fingers against the side of the cup. He wasn't really sure what to say.

"And," she continued. "I think you should stop blaming yourself for Charlotte."

"Who says I do?"

She sighed and reached over, placing a hand on his shin, the closest part of him she could reach. "We both know better than that."

And she was right. He'd carried the weight of that little girl's death on him every single day. He'd never meant for her to die. He had only ever wanted to scare her as badly as he'd been afraid. Charlotte needed to see consequences for her lies but he hadn't wanted her to die.

He nodded and she squeezed his leg once before letting him go.

She stood and took his cup, filling it one more time. "Happy Birthday, Murphy," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

Murphy swallowed hard against a knot forming in his throat. He looked up at her to find her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "Thanks, Clarke."

"Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck. Some nights I call it a draw."

Fun. "Some Nights"

A/N: Hey guys! So this is a story born out of a prompt that Marina Black1 and I talked about, the idea that it's Murphy's birthday and he doesn't think anyone else knows but someone does. We wanted to see how different we would each go and I'd say we certainly didn't follow the same storyline. Marina's story is called "One to Grow On" and I encourage you to all to give it a read. It's amazing. Marina kicks ass at Murphy stories.

This one takes place in the same universe as "Even" and "Come With Me Now" and lands at a point between them. You don't have to have read either of those to enjoy this one though.

I'm looking forward to seeing what you guys think! Thanks in advance!

Luca