Clarke had long since washed the blood off of her hands, Raven's screams were no longer in ear range, Finn's body had been cut down from the pole, and the grounders had left.
Tears streamed down her face and as she walked, her back to Camp Jaha, to the stares of those who watched her kill Finn, from Finn's body. She couldn't face them, not yet. She knew they would never look at her the same.
The drop ship came into view, dark and abandoned. It stood as a reminder of an earlier time, their arrival, their battles, and other losses. She pulled the tarp to the side and entered the dark, discarded ship. Clarke craved the darkness; she wanted it to surround her, to engulf her.
She could barely see what was in front of her, so she stretched her hands out in front of her. When she found the wall of the far side of the drop ship she dropped to the floor and put her back against it and pulled her knees to her chest.
Thanks, Princess.
The sobs broke out of her in such a force that it caused her chest to ache and burn. She was out of tears, but the burning behind her eyes remained. She looked at her hands, the hands that took another life, a life of someone she loved, which loved her.
A small voice in the back of her head told her that she saved him from a much horrible fate, that it was the only answer. She shook her head at that small voice; she wasn't ready to accept that. She just wanted to disappear, here, in this dark, cold, deserted place.
Raven's cries still rang in her head, bouncing around, reminding her that she destroyed her. Clarke took away her only family with her hand, with the knife that Raven had given her to kill Lexa.
She will never forgive you.
She shouldn't, she really shouldn't.
Just then there was a noise above her, in the second story. Clarke held her breath and listened.
The hatch to the floor opened and some one was climbing down the ladder. Clarke strained her eyes, trying her best to see who it was.
Maybe they will kill you and then you don't have to face what you've done.
Who ever it was hopped to the floor with a thud. Clarke could just make out their silhouette against the star and moonlight that shone in through the tarp.
"Who's there?" came a familiar voice through the shadows.
"Murphy?" Clarke's voice cracked and horse, she didn't sound like her self, she sounded broken. She was broken.
"Clarke?" the figure walked towards her, its hands out stretched, "Where are you"
Clarke just sniffled in response, and pulled her knees tighter against her chest. She came here to be alone, she came here to disappear, why was he here?
The toe of his boot kicked her boot and he reached down and placed a hand on her knee.
He crouched down in front of her, hand still on her knee, normally Clarke would pull away right now, but she was so numb, the heat from his hand felt good.
"What are you doing here?" her voice was barely a whisper and a sob broke out deep from her throat at the end.
"What am I still doing here, you mean?" He shifted and sat down across from her, "What happened?"
Clarke just choked in response, she felt her windpipe close up and the pain behind her eyes became unbearable.
"Clarke?"
He moved so he was sitting next to her. Clarke's sobs rocked her body, her chest heaving trying to catch her breath. She couldn't breath.
Murphy put a tentative hand on her shoulder, and they just sat there, her body shaking with each silent sob, and him just being a presence.
"I killed him" it was almost silent, her voice gone. Murphy moved closer to her, "Clarke, oh...-"
"I killed him, killed him" her sobs became hysterical, Murphy wrapped his arm behind her and Clarke curled into him, "I killed him"
Murphy didn't say anything, he let her weep, let her cling on to him and allowed the sobs to rack her body. They stayed that way through night, Clarke eventually crying herself into a fitful sleep, while Murphy continued to sit there, his arm still cradling her.
Murphy doesn't sleep much, not when he closes his eyes and he feels the noose tighten around his neck, or the grounders ripping his nails off and laughing, them torturing him, cutting him. No, Murphy doesn't sleep much.
But he must have drifted off, maybe for an hour, because when he wakes up, he is alone.
His backaches, and his arm is still asleep from where a blonde had fallen asleep against it. He stands and stretches his arms above his head. The light outside is still light, so it has to be early.
Murphy is used to waking up alone, but this is the first time he was truly disappointed, probably because this was the first time he had the possibility of not being alone. Clarke may have hated him, but he didn't hate her. She was so broken last night, he had never seen her like that. She had always been stone, strong and cold.
He pulls the tarp aside and sees that Clarke isn't outside. He shrugs his shoulders and makes his way back towards Camp Jaha.
Clarke has to be seen now. She can't hide in the darkness when the sun is shining bright on this new morning. Her eyes are swollen and painful from crying the night before and she knows everyone that is looking at her now can see that.
They treat her like she could break if they look at her too long. Like their stares will crack her and shatter her into a thousand pieces, so most avoid eye contact. They advert their eyes when she enters the camp. They give her a wide birth as she walks towards the ark.
Bellamy sees her and comes forward. He wraps her in an embrace and holds here there. He doesn't say anything, and neither does she. They never need to say anything to each other; they always know what the other is thinking.
He stood by her when her mother came up to her, unsure of how to handle her daughter now that she's seen what the Earth has turn her into. She decides on the minimal approach and grabs both of Clarke's hands and squeezes them, a look of pity in her eyes.
In the daylight when she has to be seen, when people are still looking to her as a leader, she needs Bellamy. His strong presence that draws some of the attention, his occasional touches of reassurance, his steady breathing when Clarke can't catch her breath.
The adults look at her as if she is unstable, and some of the kids look at her like they understand. They come up to her and tell her that she did what she had to do, that she saved a lot of lives. But in Clarke's eyes she still killed Finn, the boy that first called her princess, that was Raven's only family, Spacewalker. How could anyone truly understand that?
So during the day, where she has to be seen, she needs Bellamy. But at night, when the nightmares come, when the visions of bloodied hands and the weight of Finn's slumped body returns, when that happens, she needs Murphy.
Murphy is invisible, no one comes to look for him, and no one comes to make sure he is there. So when she comes to his tent at night, she too is invisible. When he scoots over and lets her into his bed, she can disappear again.
He doesn't ask if she is ok-he knows she isn't
He doesn't ask if he can help-he knows he can't
She comes at night. She comes to him when she is worn down from acting in front of the masses, she comes when she needs to be broken and be real.
She climbs into his bed and curls up against him and they lay there for a while, just in each other's company, both awaiting the demons that come to them at night.
When she starts to cry, she grips onto his shirt, and he lets her. He wraps her up in his embrace and just holds her, and she lets him.
She wakes in a start sometimes, a scream erupting from her throat, followed by sobs that choke her.
He is there, he knows those dreams, and he knows that feeling. He reaches for her and she collapses on his chest. Her tears dampen his shirt, and his hand strokes her hair in a constant, soothing pattern. When she falls back asleep, he can too.
They help each other this way, being there for each other, not having to fight in the dark alone anymore.
But in the morning she is gone.
In the daylight she feels raw and exposed. People whisper as she walks by, but she keeps her head up and she acts like she is put together, that she isn't broken.
Bellamy always finds her, stands next to her to hold her up, to make sure she can make it through the day.
They begin discussion of Mount Weather, and no one notices that Clarke is silent. That her voice still doesn't work right. They focus on Bellamy who controls the meeting, who takes charge.
Bellamy talks for both of them, and Clarke is, for once, ok with that.
It continues like that for a while, she goes to Murphy at night, and has Bellamy during the day. Each day she is a little bit back together, each day a piece of herself gets a little healed.
Murphy looks forward to her coming at night. After not having any physical contact with anyone for so long, he craves it. Maybe it is selfish of him to want her when she is broken, but he doesn't care, he wants to be needed.
In the back of his head he is worried that when she becomes strong again, she wont come to him anymore. Each day he fears it's that night that she won't come into his tent and slip into his bed.
He layss on the right side of his bed now, she likes the left. On the left side she is able to slip out when the sun rises with out waking him.
That night she comes. His heart leaps and he pulls the covers back for her. She sits down and pulls her boots off then climbs in and turns to him. She curls into his side, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like she does every night and he moves his arm around her like he does every night.
They became this close with out really talking about it. They don't say much beyond his whispered comforts when she has a nightmare.
But tonight she turns her head up and looks at him, "Do you think I did the right thing?"
Murphy craned his neck to look at her; she looked so vulnerable, so exposed. He couldn't understand why she would want to know what he thought.
"Yes." Is all he says, holding her gaze. He put all he wanted to say in that stare, that the Grounders did horrible things to him and he didn't kill any of them, Finn killed their own, he would have had a fate worse than death.
She just nods once, and then laid her head on his chest. He continued to watch her, her eyes open, her brain taking her elsewhere. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her eyes close. Murphy brought his hand up and stroked the back of her head, lulling her to sleep.
Yeah, he craved this physical contact, but he knew that every day she was stronger, and every day she was no longer barely held together. He took pride in knowing that he had help her through this, but at the same time, he sort of wished she would stay this way so he could continue to have her. It was horrible of him to wish such things, if he was truly her friend he would want her to be strong and independent again, but he was a weak man, he had been alone for so long.
But, in the morning, she is gone.
Clarke can breathe today. She feels stronger than she has in a long time. It has been a little over a month since she had to end Finn's life and the ache in her chest is a dull pain that no longer takes her breath away.
Bellamy still comes to stand by her and stays by her through the day. His occasional touches, a hand to the shoulder, to her back, on her arm, they still help steady her.
She returns smiles now, half-hearted, but she does it. She speaks during the meetings and starts to be able to be her old self.
The only time she breaks is when she sees Raven. Raven still glares at her, her face full of hate and betrayal. I gave you that knife to save Finn, not to kill him. It's when Raven's eyes meet hers that Clarke is right back to the broken, barely held together girl.
It makes her remember that not only did she lose Finn, she lost Raven too.
Thanks, Princess
Clarke chokes on a sob and everyone's eyes turn to her. Bellamy reaches and puts a hand on her arm, concern in his eyes. The burn behind her eyes returns and she cant see, everything is a blur of colors, she cant breathe, her chest is on fire.
"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice reaches her, but Clarke stumbles out of the tent in to the daylight. Her sobs making her body shake, her steps into a stumble.
No, no they can see you; they can see you falling apart.
She clutches her chest and runs. Runs to where she knows she can be invisible. Her eyes are still blurred by tears, but she knows the way.
She reaches Murphy's tent and collapses onto her hands and knees. Her body shaking, her chest heaving. Tears are streaming down her face, collecting in droplets on her chin, sliding down her neck. He is there, he is always there.
She is faintly aware that she is being picked up and placed into his bed. Faintly aware that her head is on a pillow, she's curled into a ball, with his body pressed firmly against her back, faintly aware that he places a kiss into the hair on the back of her head as he wraps his arms around her.
Soon her breath comes to her easier and the pain in her chest returns to its dull ache. Her tears have dried and they make her cheeks and neck feel hard. Murphy still has his arms around her, his hand rubbing up and down on her arm in a constant, calming motion.
She feels safe and warm. It has turned to night outside, no has come to look for her here.
She turns around and buries her head into Murphy's chest, her hands gripping onto his shirt as he places his chin on top of her head, "Will it get better?"
"It'll get easier to deal with, but I don't know about better"
She nods, her head still pressed under his chin. She feels him kiss the top of her head again. Something that should seem odd to her, but it feels natural. They've seen each other's scars and exposed wounds. They know each other so well now.
"Thank you, Murphy"
He squeezes her in a hug "Of course"
"I don't think I could do this with out you"
"You never have to"
She smells like earth and something sweet. Murphy likes to place his nose in her hair and his lips lightly on the top of her head. He doesn't question it, and she doesn't seem to either.
She falls asleep, curled into his chest. This is best time of his day, having her to himself. She mumbles in her sleep, fidgets, and he continues to hold her, lets her fight it out on her own, she's stronger now.
She doesn't wake up in the middle of the night sobbing anymore; she hasn't the past couple of nights. When she came to him during the day, he didn't question it; he just picked her up and placed her in his bed.
He fights off sleep, enjoying having her in his arms, knowing in the morning she will be gone and he will be alone again.
"Murphy, are you awake?"
He hadn't noticed that she had stopped mumbling in her sleep, that she had woken up and was staring through the dark at some distant point.
"Yeah"
"Thank you", it's barely a whisper
"You said that already"
"I know, but I mean it"
"Of course, I'm always here for you"
She pushes her self up on her elbows and looks at him. Her hair shines silvery in the moonlight, and he thinks she is most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
She leans forward and kisses him; it's soft and salty from her tears. His hand raises from her back up to cup her face. The kiss is brief, but filled with a lot of unsaid things, things neither of them could ever articulate.
After she just lays her head back on her chest and adjusts herself to get comfortable. Eventually they both fall asleep.
But, in the morning, she is still there.