AN: Okay, this chapter is only about halfway done but I figured you guys have waited long enough and it's long enough where I should split this into two parts anyway, which I did. Second part is still in processing though. This ends on a cliffhanger that might never be revisited, because it's anticlimactic.
Not a Murphy POV like I suggested in the last chapter but has a lot of Murphy loving in it.
Special shout out to ClaireR89 for continued support and help, even though I'm not so great at utilizing it.
Also, someone commented and asked a question like 'why didn't they use horses if they're on such a time crunch' I answered them at the time but I'm just going to tell you all that had legitimately never crossed my mind. I read that and thought 'what? horses? oh shit that's a thing.' Even if I had thought I probably wouldn't have used them, pregnant chick on horseback seems dangerous and it's more annoying when they have to move at a snails pace.
Enjoy! Maybe I'll have the next chapter up before 2020.
Chapter 13
Clarke grunted in annoyance as she stumbled forward, her tied hands being yanked foreword by the man whose horse she was tied to. She trailed behind him at a faster pace than her exhausted body was currently capable of. She refused to show any signs of weakness though. But she was flagging and wasn't sure how much farther she could go. She'd walked half of the night and most of the day, the sun beginning to dip back low behind the trees.
She sighed around her gag. She'd thought she was past this point of her life, but her chaffed and bleeding wrists begged to differ. One of the others laughed as the man yanked on the rope again, forcing her to stumble foreword once more. The bundle in her arms whimpered and she cuddled her young son closer to her chest protectively, doing her best to kiss his head as he borrowed further into her arms.
I am going to kill them all. Clarke thought as she glared at the back of the man above her. No, that was wrong. Lincoln would find them and then they would kill them all together.
One of them, a girl, had wandered into her village begging for help, saying her son was in an accident and couldn't be moved but if Clarke didn't come and help he would die. She'd used the name of a friend in a nearby village to convince Clarke. Atha had been weary but Clarke had looked at her own son and couldn't take the idea of letting the woman's child die.
Motherhood had made her soft. She glanced down at her little love. She'd been able to calm him down after their initial capture, but even at two he knew enough to know to be afraid. He wouldn't have any need to be afraid if she hadn't been so trusting. A word that had always been- for her- synonymous with stupid. The stupidest thing she had done was take Wells with her. He could have been safe with Atha or Lincoln, playing with his friends in the village. But instead she'd taken him with her because Wells was currently going through a clingy phase and refused to leave her side. She hadn't been able to part with his tearstained face. Maybe she was experiencing a little bit of a clingy phase too. If she were honest, she'd been experiencing one since he was born.
Lincoln found her hovering amusing. Her husband cared as fiercely for their son as she did, but he took a different approach to parenthood. He let Wells fall on his own and was always there to help him back up. He knew exactly when to pull her back, so she didn't smother Wells and gave him room to grow.
Clarke had been enormously jealous of him. Fatherhood had come to him so naturally, while for her it felt like a constant struggle. She was too clinical, too cold, too scarred to be a good mother. Nothing Lincoln could say or do made her feel like she wasn't a failure. Then four months after Wells was born, he had gotten sick, nothing serious, but the first real discomfort of his young life. And during those moments of childhood anguish he only wanted her. He would reach for her when he was anywhere but, in her arms, cling to her when he was there, refusing to let himself be removed. She ached for him, his pain manifesting in her own heart, but she was grateful for the realization that even though she would never be the perfect mother he would love her anyway. Just as she loved her own imperfect mother.
She pulled Wells tighter into her arms ignoring her protesting muscles. Sweat poured down her face and her footing became less sure with each step. How long had it been since they were taken?
Lincoln had left the day before they'd come for her. Traveling to a nearby village to trade, not meaning to be gone for more than a day or two. Clarke assumed it meant that they had been watching her, instead of just having a fortuitous opportunity. But she was grateful in a way. Although, things might have been different if Lincoln were there. He might have prevented this. Or they might have killed him and taken her and Wells anyway. She'd much rather he be out there somewhere attempting to find them. And he would. He would find them. She knew it. She'd known Lincoln for far too long to doubt him. Lincoln would not rest until he found them. And when he did, they would kill every last one of the people who dare to separate them.
Her murderous thoughts were diverted by the sound of galloping hoofs behind them. Clarke glanced back to see a rider coming up on them. The other four did not seem startled so Clarke assumed that this was the man that the others referred to as the Nomad.
They had stopped to make camp some time the night before. Clarke had barely closed her eyes before they had yanked her awake pulling her back onto one of the horses. Clarke had been bound by her hands and feet, her head pounding from where she'd been hit. She'd wanted to use her respite to come up with an escape plan, but she was just too exhausted. Wells curled his arms around her neck and sniffled into her chest and all she could do was breath him in and bask in the fact that they were still alive.
"The nomad hasn't caught up yet," one of the two men stated.
"That better mean he's doing his job." The woman who appeared to be the groups defacto leader snarled. Clarke had caught her name, Titania, and she was ice nation. Or was. None of them were clan anymore. Now they were bounty hunters, loyal to no clan only themselves.
"Maybe he's outlived his usefulness," the other man mused.
Clarke listened intently. Whoever this Nomad was he was in trouble. Bade for him, good for her. Dissent amongst them gave her options. If they chose to make a move against the nomad than that was at least one of them dead. Things would work out even better if he was able to take a few them down with him. Either way some of them were going to die and the survivors would have to deal with the paranoia that they were next. This could work in Clarke's favor. Although his presence added to the numbers against her further stacking the odds against her she was the Mountain Slayer, the odds were always stacked against her.
Clarke turned towards the mysterious nomad. He was slight of build but radiated lethal intention. He wore a hood that covered his head and the lower half of his face, all that she could see was his eyes. Cold, calculating, and piercing her down to her soul when they met hers. She couldn't help but feel a familiar spark. She brushed off the thought, thinking she'd spent too much time around killers. Breaking the stare, she heard his horse slow to a trot to match pace with the others.
"Did you cover our tracks?" The man only grunted in response. The others seemed used to the man's borderline laconic response.
With the Nomad returned and their tracks properly covered the others felt free to make camp. Clarke fell to the ground with relief, only jostling Wells slightly. She took huge gulping breaths and felt her muscles cry with relief as her captors began setting up camp, the sun already dipping low behind the trees. The Nomad stalked off mumbling to others about taking first watch.
Titania and one of the men- Seth, she thought his name was- began to talk in hushed whispers, throwing glances at where the Nomad had headed in. She was distracted when the other woman, younger and far less intimidating than her Azgaden counterpart, literally threw her some scraps of food. She pulled Wells from where he'd burrowed himself into her and fed him after checking the food herself. There was no reason to poison them, but she'd gotten into this mess because of her laxed behavior. She was on guard now.
"Dada?" Wells asked in between small bites.
"He's coming," Clarke whispered in a sure tone.
"Want Dada."
She kissed his forehead, "I know baby, me too." Clarke rocked Wells to sleep still asking for his father the entire time. Clarke was too exhausted to fight the sleep that overtook her and soon followed her son.
…..
Clarke startled awake, the sound of a snapping branch pulling her from her light slumber. She glanced down and made sure Wells was still asleep, tucked against her. Once she saw he was safe… as safe as he could be, Clarke scanned the area. Her eyes landed on a crouched figure by the fire they were near. His masked face was illuminated by the flames as Clarke watched him. Clarke was about to open her mouth, take the opportunity to implant the seed of paranoia in him and warn him what Titania surely had planned for him but she stopped. Closing her mouth slowly when she realized he wasn't stoking the fire as she'd originally thought, but rather pretending to. She watched his eyes searching the faces of those sleeping around them, then track the man on duty as he walked the perimeter of their camp.
As soon as he was out of sight the Nomad's eyes landed on Clarke. She was pinned once more by their haunting familiarity. Clarke opened her mouth to speak once more but her voice caught in her throat as the man lowered the hood from his mouth and brought a finger to his mouth in a telling gesture.
Clarke's eyes widened in shock as she stared into the face of John Murphy. A cruel smirk graced his striking features at her stunned expression.
"Son of a bitch," Clarke hissed. Fucking Murphy always looking out for himself and to hell with everyone else. He'd always claimed to be a survivor. She doubted that survivor's instinct he often boasted if he was stupid enough to not only take her but her child.
Murphy snorted at the rage he must have seen building on her face. "Relax, princess." He talked low neither one wanting to be overheard.
"You're with them!"
"'With' is a strong word. They had something I needed. They don't anymore." He spoke calmly like she hadn't marked him for a dead man the moment he showed his face with them.
"And what?"
"And I'm going to help you and the rugrat get out of here."
"Bull shit. The Murphy I know would never risk his life for anyone."
"Yeah well you don't know me as well as you think." Murphy gave a frustrated sigh at her narrowed eyes that voiced her disbelief. "Christ. You. Clarke. You are what I needed. I need your help."
"And you thought kidnapping me was the best way to get it."
"No, the kidnapping's all them. I just came along for the ride. They knew where you were, I didn't, so I pretended to join them. I've been trying to track you down for two years! Besides you should be thanking me."
"For what?!" she spat in disbelief only taking a brief moment to wonder why Murphy had been looking for her for so long. An involuntary chill ran up her spine at the trouble John Murphy had gotten himself into and needed her help to fix. Last she'd heard he, Jaha, and a few others had gone looking for the city of Light. A utopia hidden somewhere within this dark world. Those who had survived the mountain knew paradise came at a cost. How high was it this time? And how was Clarke going to help pay it?
"I'm the one who convinced these assholes not to kill your baby daddy and left a trail for him to follow. If he's smart, he'll catch up to us in at least a day, less if he's good and I stall properly.
"You saved Lincoln?"
"Tall, dark, and mean looking? Yeah, I saved him. Told them he wouldn't be worth the trouble of killing. You're welcome. You ready to trust me yet?"
"Not a chance."
The smirk was back on his face as he said, "You don't exactly have any other options here. You're good but even you can't take them all on your own." Clarke bit back her retort of 'watch me' because that would just be her pride talking. "You. Need. Me," he enunciated each word as he finished, giving a pointed look towards the sleeping child in her arms.
Any protest she might have had died. Clarke stared down at Wells, attempting to brush the hair off his forehead she reached out a hand only to remember her hands were still bound causing her to jostle him slightly. Annoyed she settled for brushing her lips against his head. Closing her eyes as the warmth from him permeated through her cold extremities.
She couldn't trust Murphy. Clarke knew that. But to protect her son she would have to. She wouldn't survive if something ever happened to him. She would never be able to forgive herself. Lincoln would never be able to forgive her.
"Whatever happens," her eyes left Wells' peaceful face and turned on Murphy who was staring at them with longing, "You protect Wells. Understand? If you can't save us both you save him."
Clarke respected the fact that he offered no meaningless platitudes or impossible promises. No 'it won't come to that' or 'never fear I'll save you both, we'll all get out of this alive and ride off into the sunset on unicorns that shoot rainbows out of their asses.'
"Deal."
"What's the plan?"
…..
Turns out laying out a plan by whispering covertly in the dark of night while your enemies literally sleep less than ten feet away. Not that easy.
Murphy was only able to intimate a couple details to Clarke last night. Enough details to clue her into the fact that he didn't actually have a plan and was making it up as he went along. She hadn't really expected anything more, but it still worried her to know.
Clarke and Wells had been awoken roughly at dawn. The grounder Titania had been conspiring with kicking Clarke roughly in the ribs to do so. She'd been trying to keep her distance from him, she didn't like the way his eyes roamed over her body, a hungry look in them.
They hadn't been fed. Clarke didn't care about herself, but Wells would need to eat. Before she could demand something for him, he was ripped from her arms by Jada, the other woman in their group. Clarke stumbled to her feet but was gripped tight around the waist by one of them and could only watch as Wells fought against the woman. Kicking the woman hard in the stomach and scratching down her face the woman screamed and lifted her hand to strike Wells. Clarke revamped her efforts to escape as she watched Jada's hand ark down towards her son when Murphy stepped in and grabbed her arm roughly. He twisted until she released Wells and he feel to the ground and immediately ran to her, wrapping his arms around her leg and crying.
Clarke brushed his head- still being held herself- and told him, "It's okay, baby."
"Back off the kid," Murphy snarled ferociously. Jada fought against his grip but couldn't free her arm. Clarke knew with one twist he could snap the bone, she hoped he would. Jada must have realized it and relaxed into his hold, almost going boneless with her submission. Only then did Murphy release her.
"Got a soft spot for the little whelp," Titania asked eyeing Murphy critically, having approached them unawares.
Murphy scoffed, "He's leverage. You don't fuck with leverage. We kill her kid I guarantee you none of us will be waking up tomorrow."
The growl that tour from Clarke at the mere mention of killing Wells was instinctual. It was also effective, as she watched two of them take a step back unsurely and felt the arms drop from her waist. Bound, beaten, and captured and she could still intimidate the big scary grounders. Of course, she did have practice over the years through intimidating her big scary husband.
"Fine. No one touches the boy." Titania had not taken her eyes from Murphy- not even reacting to Clarke's little show- continuing to test Murphy. "But if…" her eyes flicked to Clarke, "when the time comes to use our leverage, you'll be the one to cut off his fingers."
Clarke's heart stuttered at the thought, her fingers digging deeper into Wells soft locks. Murphy's smile was cruel, the perfect image of malicious intent, "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The matter settled the others began to climb onto their horses while Murphy marched up to her and Wells. Clarke resisted for show, knowing that Murphy would unfortunately be the safest option for her son at the moment.
Playing along, "Hey, he either rides with me or her," he said. Jutting his chin towards Jada.
Pretending to think it over Clarke waited a minute before nodding, shaking off Arturo's hands she knelt to whisper in his ear.
"Trust him," Wells looked into her eyes questioningly but nodded.
Murphy had been staring down at them and reached for Wells once Clarke signaled it was okay.
Clarke was surprised at how tenderly he handled the young boy. Gathering him up into his arms and murmuring his own words of comfort and encouragement.
Since then he had even managed to make Wells laugh a few times, earning speculative looks from the others and he'd fed him to Clarke's relief.
Clarke had been pulled onto a horse with her least favorite grounder for accompaniment. He held a knife against her thigh for most of the journey, digging it in every now and then as his hands roamed over her body. His touch made her stomach churn. Not only was it repulsive in itself, but Clarke hadn't allowed, hadn't wanted anyone to touch her like this since she and Lincoln began their relationship. She couldn't wait to kill him.
They had ridden for hours, morose silence interspersed with the quiet conversation between Wells and Murphy, who was keeping her son entertained with silly stories. Until one of the horses reared back falling to the ground, his rider smashed between it and the heavy earth as it twitched and struggled to regain its footing. The man screamed in pain as he freed himself from the animal as it stood back up. It whined in pain as it shifted its weight away from one hoof in particular. The grounder just barely managed to roll out of the way of the horses other stomping hooves.
The rest of them had come to an abrupt halt. Jada launched herself from her horse and towards the injured man, appearing more worried than all the others. Titania who had been leading the pack and only turned back when she realized the others had stopped. Her eyes first turned to Clarke suspecting foul play but seeing her genuine surprise they turned to the fallen man. Annoyance radiating from her as she descended from her horse at a subdued speed.
Murphy slowly lowered himself from his own horse and handed the reigns to the man that held her. He approached the bucking horse and calmed him. Clarke marveled at how easily he'd done it, whispering calm words and keeping an even tone. He was as gentle with the hurt animal as he had been with her son. Once he'd calmed the horse completely, he gently stroked him as he walked around the horse examining it. When he'd gotten to the back hoof the horse had been gingerly placing its weight on, he picked it up examining the roughly made horse shoe beneath it. Titania approached him as he pulled something from it.
"Splinter," he told her handing the giant piece of wood that had seemed to lodge itself in the soft underbelly of the horse's hoof.
"Fuck."
Titania threw the object on the ground and turned to the whining man behind her.
"Can he ride?"
Jada replied panicked, "He can ride. He's fine." She then attempted to pull the man up, but he cried out in pain and fell back in a heap. Titania gave them a dark look when Jada rushed out to demand Clarke look at him. "She's a healer, she can fix him. He can ride." Clarke knew what the woman was afraid of. Injured accomplices were a liability and Titania didn't seem to prone to handling those well.
Walking over she attempted to yank Clarke from atop her horse.
Clarke gasped as the fear of falling from such a large height became all too real. Just as she was about to be unseated Murphy pushed her out of the way and grasped her by the hips. Although he roughly dropped her then, forcing her to tumble to her knees, it was far better than the alternative.
Clarke turned to Titania waiting for her permission already knowing how the other woman would prefer to handle the situation. She inclined her head slightly.
She walked slowly over to the man. Having already observed him she knew what to expect. His leg was broken at the very least. At worst, his knee and ankle may have been crushed as well, in which case he would never walk right again.
The man made no protest towards her approach. Jada knelt at his side holding tightly onto each other's hands.
Examining the injury was difficult, her bound hands making it so. But when she silently gestured to have them cut Titania only offered her an 'I'm not stupid' look. So, she made do.
Being none too gentle, she ignored the man's cries and flinches, not caring if she hurt one of her kidnappers.
"Can he ride?" Titania demanded once more, her patience running thin.
Clarke looked towards the couple, hope and worry in equal mixture across their faces.
"No. The leg and ankle are broken, and his hip is badly bruised. He'd never be able to hold himself atop the horse."
"I'm fine. I can ride." He protested. Shaking Jada's hands off himself and attempting to stand once more.
Clarke leaned away knowing it wouldn't last. As soon as he managed to lift himself off the ground he fell back in anguish, his movements causing crippling pain.
They all settled into uncomfortable silence all waiting for Titania's decree. The man on the ground breathing in deeply, doing what little he could to manage his pain. But it was too late, he was no longer of any use to her.
"Go on without us. We'll stay behind," Jada pleaded. When no one responded, "We won't tell anyone about Wanheda. You go your way, we go ours. The bounty is yours. We only want our lives." She pleaded to deaf ears. No grounder, especially not an Azgaden, would risk that. If she betrayed them, they'd have every warrior for a hundred miles hunting them down. And they were bounty hunters, they would never just walk away.
As the seconds passed even the forest around them quieted with anticipation.
The stalemate was broken in an instant, the man's hand springing out to grasp Clarke's wrist and pull her into him. A knife was at her throat and the others drew their weapons.
"Let us go or I'll slice her open."
Titania only sneered at him.
"And how exactly would that work? You can't move and we sure as hell not leaving without her." Murphy said.
Jada attempted for a resolution, "He can't ride, but I can drape him over a horse. We take her with us and we'll leave her tied up somewhere for you to find in a couple hours."
"That's a really brilliant plan," his voice dripping with sarcasm.
As the two began to argue back and forth, Clarke used the distraction to liberate herself. Keeping a strong hold on the wrist with the knife in it she kicked out and stomped onto the man's already broken leg, twisting his wrist at the same time, until he was forced to drop the knife or break his wrist. He screamed, Clarke taking one extra moment to elbow him in the gut before she rolled away.
With a breath she heard the familiar sound of knives flying through the air and landing with hard thuds into their intended targets. There were no gasps of final breaths being taken or last words being uttered, only silence. Without looking towards the carnage, she raised herself to her feet and walked over to her son. His horse was far enough away that Wells was blocked from seeing anything.
Clarke felt no remorse or guilt, it was callous, but she'd learned to shed emotions like those. At least where enemies were concerned. Their actions weren't based on survival, it was greed.
Wells was sitting stock still on his horse only relaxing when he saw her approach.
"Hey, honey, are you okay?" he nodded scanning her with wide fearful eyes for any injuries. When she reached his side, she clasped onto the leg closest to her, his hands going around her own.
For one fleeting moment she had designs of escape. Swinging herself onto the horse and riding off into the forest, back to their home, back to Lincoln. But there's a reason why such thoughts are fleeting. They were unrealistic.
She startled when she heard someone approaching but calmed when she realized it was only Murphy. She watched as he went into one of the saddlebags removing a rag using it to wipe the still wet blood from his hands. He met her wandering eye and her stomach turned.
Only two men had ever killed for her before. The knowledge that Murphy had now joined that number filled her with dread. Not because she felt indebted to him. It was because she knew what it felt like. What it felt like to have the blood cake her hands. For the cries to ring in her ears. For the images of their final moments to play out behind her eyes in every free moment. She bore it, so they didn't have to. She was never good at sharing the responsibility, never knowing how to endure it from the other side.
In the last few years she'd become more adapt at it, however. She'd had to. Lincoln demanded it, wouldn't allow her to take it all on herself. He'd realized that was what had caused her to run after the mountain. She crumbled under the weight alone and he refused to let it happen again. And with him it was different. He had been carrying his own burdens long before she arrived. As their relationship grew so did her ability to share that burden with him. They carried it together.
Seeing Murphy tug some of that onus away from her did nothing but worry her.
"We need a plan," she whispered to him while the others were going through the corpses for anything they could scavenge and arguing about what to do with the injured horse. "We got lucky."
Scoffing, "Lucks for suckers, Clarke. Survivors make their own luck." Appraising him then she felt stupid. Of course, it was him. He always had a plan. A hail Mary play always at the back of his mind ready to be utilized at a moment's notice.
"What next?"
He smirks at her, knowing it was killing her to have to turn to him for guidance. Crowding her he pushes her back and away from Wells and into the arms of Arturo who begins to pull her towards their horse.
"You take him, I'll take her."
Having been settled Clarke stares ahead as the horse takes off, being careful to discretely tuck the small dagger Murphy had slipped her in-between her restraints.
…..
The death of two of his comrades did nothing to still his wandering hands. In fact, it emboldened her rider. He began to whisper all the vile things he was planning on doing to her that night. Telling her how no one was going to stop him as he fucked her into the ground while Wells watched.
Instead of scaring her it made her angry. And it made sliding the knife into his femoral artery when she 'accidentally' pinched his thigh beneath hers even easier. And that was the big dark secret. The one that she'd only felt safe to confide with Lincoln when wrapped up in the shadow of the night. Killing. Killing was easy. Maybe not the emotional aspect- although, sometimes it was easy even then-, but the physical act of killing had always been far too easy for her. She never hesitated, never even had to think about it. The actions flowed as easily through her as if she were drawing a picture. She knew exactly what the human body was capable of withstanding. Even knew that under the right circumstances someone would not even realize they were dying, bleeding out quickly, until it was too late. Just as it was too late for him.
Clarke had made sure to have a strong grip on his forearm when she felt him starting to sway, not wanting him to fall and alert Titania just yet. They'd been bringing up the rear and would receive the occasional glance backwards from Titania. If the other woman was growing anxious at the reducing numbers, she didn't show it.
Clarke caught Murphy's eye and signaled to him that the deed was done, and she began to cut the binds from her hands. Murphy shifted Wells behind him as Clarke prepared to let the body fall.
Just as she knew she would, Titania turned back abruptly at the sound. Her attention focused solely on Clarke she almost missed the dagger Murphy had thrown her way. Almost. She turned at the last second and caught the knife in her shoulder rather than her chest. Clarke charged her and leapt from her own horse and tackled the other woman to the ground despite knowing she would be unable to take the woman in hand-to-hand combat.
Clarke grunted and winced at the impact before quickly getting her bearings to punch the woman in the face. Her teeth were bloody, but she was otherwise unfazed, rolling them so she was on top of Clarke and began to hit her. She'd only needed to land a few blows before Clarke was too stunned to move, practically unconscious, she felt Titania's weight lift off her and knew she'd turned on Murphy.
Clarke's head was fuzzy and couldn't tell what the other woman sneered at him because she was doing a fair imitation of a fish on land. Attempting roll herself over and lift herself on her hands and knees while her scrambled brain kept turning the lights off on her.
When Clarke finally managed to stagger to her feet, she was horrified to see Murphy on the ground- dead or unconscious, she couldn't tell- and Titania pulling Wells from their horse.
Wells cried out as Titania yanked on his arm and tuned towards Clarke. She hadn't missed the bloody knife in Titania's hand.
"Sky bitch needs to learn a lesson," she spit through a broken nose, on top of the bloody mouth Clarke had given her. Murphy had gotten a few shots in at least.
"No wait! I'll do whatever you want! Please don't hurt him!" Clarke begged even falling to her knees to show her she'd one. Clarke watched as she smiled and knew she was about to watch her son die because of her actions. "Please," she begged weakly, the word breaking over her tears.
Clarke's breath hitched as she watched the knife rise and then begin to come down towards the love of her life only to be stalled by Murphy leaping onto the woman. The three fell back in a heap and Clarke did her best to run to them. She could hear Titania and Murphy grunting and Wells cry. When she got to them, she pulled Wells from them first, she stumbled back with him and held him to her chest crying in relief when she saw he was unharmed. Turning back, she watched Titania and Murphy roll around on the floor together until Murphy was able to pull Titania into a head lock. He wrapped around her body like a python and squeezed. Clarke kept Wells head buried in her chest as she watched Murphy strangle the life out of the woman who would have killed her son.
When Titania stopped moving Murphy relaxed his grip with a breath. Clarke could hear the rattle in his breathing from where she sat. Kissing Wells on the head she told him to stay while she went to him. With difficulty Clarke rolled the dead woman off him. She hesitated for only a second when she saw the knife buried in-between Murphy's ribs. She was stalled by the memory of Finn's similar injury but not for long.
Clarke immediately began to examine the wound. Murphy's eyes flickered towards her as she worked.
Clarke grimaced and heard Murphy taking another wheezing breath, "Cheer up, princess, you're getting your wish. I'm finally going to bite the big one."
"That's not what I want. Wells," she called back to him and he came immediately. "Stay with Murphy for a second." Her son nodded and moved to sit vigil in front of him.
Clarke left Murphy's side to dig through the packs for anything that could help. There wasn't much.
Returning to Murphy's side she told him "I'm going to take the knife out, it's going to hurt. You are not allowed to die today."
"Didn't know I needed your permission."
Murphy hands dug into the ground as she began to remove the knife, biting his lip roughly. She quickly began to treat the wound, meeting Murphy's dropping eyes as she did, praying that it would be enough.
…..
Clarke counted the weeks where Lincoln had been healing from a broken leg one of the worst times of her life. Her husband was obstinate, impatient, and overall trying as a patient.
John Murphy was somehow worse.
He hadn't died from the stab wound and was at no risk from dying from infection. He was, however, as risk of Clarke strangling him.
As soon as he had awoken, he attempted to stand and jump on a horse, tearing the stitches Clarke had been careful to put in as he did. He refused to listen to anything she said to the point where she had to finally use the sleeper hold Lincoln had taught her. The next time he awoke his hands and feet were tied. He was now propped up awkwardly against a log with Wells feeding him. When Clarke had tried, he attempted to bite her fingers. But he let Wells get close.
Night had come without Lincoln. She had hoped that he would have caught up to them by now. She worried that something had kept him. Her mind was racing with worse-case-scenarios until she sensed a presence. She sighed in relief and stood, turning in a circle and staring out into the surrounding forest despite knowing she'd never be able to spot him. Murphy eyed her curiously, but she ignored him.
When she heard a noise, she spun towards the direction it came from. Lincoln was practically at a run, eyes still scanning for threats as he approached her. Clarke wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless but her body refused to move. He was here. He was alive. It was like she could finally breath again, them being together meant everything was going to be okay.
"Dada," she heard Wells scream as he ran to his father, jumping into his arms. Lincoln caught him without a second thought and crushed him to his chest all while still walking towards her. When he finally reached her, he stopped just short of her. Clarke's hand drifted slowly towards his own, her fingers curling around his eagerly. She gasped when he returned the hold and she felt a huge smile cover her face while tears began to stream down. Lincoln then pulled her towards him and dropped her hand in favor of wrapping it around her. Clarke melted into him her own head nestled slightly above her son's as he held them.
All Clarke could do was cry. Wells babbled nonsensically to them as Lincoln pulled them tighter to him.
She's not sure how long they stood there before she heard, "This is touching and all, but could you untie me now, Clarke."
Lincoln stiffened and shifted Wells into her arms. She could feel the fury wafting off him. Before she could say anything, he stomped over to Murphy grabbed him by the shirt and brought his fist back. Realizing what was about to happen, Clarke jumped into action, setting Wells down she ran to Lincoln and wrapped her arms around his own outstretched one. "Lincoln, no. Stop! He helped us."
Lincoln released Murphy, who fell back with a grown. "Careful, Lincoln," she scolded. "I already had to stitch him up twice. And because of that I'm not untying you, Murphy." When she heard him curse, she smacked the back of his head and eyed Wells, "Language."
Lincoln gave her a questioning glare, "One does not usually tie their allies up."
"You do when they're Murphy," she muttered as John said, "Well your wife's a psycho." Murphy looked more annoyed then afraid.
Lincoln let out a soft growl at the insult. "Not helping Murphy!" She could feel Lincoln tensing and placed her hands on his chest to stop him from attacking Murphy when Wells walked past them and plopped down onto his lap.
"Friend, dada." And with that all the air rushed out of Lincoln, Wells had spoken.
"Jesus- Clarke you can't be fu-" at her and Lincoln's dark look he thought better, "fudging. You can't be fudging serious. We don't have time for this. Two years Clarke! Two years! I've wasted enough time!" Murphy slammed his tied hands against his lap in frustration, avoiding hitting Wells.
"Yeah, okay I get it. But you need to take it easy."
Wells chose that moment to begin feeding him again, cutting off any rebuttal Murphy had. He ate with a petulant frown on his face, glaring at her and Lincoln as they stifled their laughs.
Clarke was still wiping tears from her eyes as they settled. Murphy eyed her strangely, "What?" she asked him more sharply than she intended.
"I didn't know you could cry." Was his slightly fearful response.
"Yeah, I can cry. I also drink water and breath air like other normal human beings."
"You're not a normal human being."
Clarke rolled her eyes at him, while Wells stuffed another piece of food into his mouth.
Clarke took the opportunity to fill Lincoln in on the last few days. While she spoke, she couldn't help but touch him. Sitting so that their sides were pasted together. Her hand would alternate between resting against his thigh and playing with the fingers of his hand. Lincoln was similarly touch starved, his arm resting against her shoulders, his thumb drawing circles against her arm. They were affectionate people, but affectionate in private, they rarely showed such intimacy around others. Even if their audience was only made up of Murphy.
Clarke had given Lincoln the abridged version, not wanting to relive the more gruesome aspects in front of Wells. She knew he would demand to hear them when they were alone though. She was reluctant to tell him only because he would be furious and unable to vent that fury. He couldn't kill dead men.
Lincoln lived by a code. Murphy saving their son's life meant that Lincoln would give him a second chance, the benefit of the doubt until Murphy proved he couldn't be trusted. Clarke begrudgingly agreed to do the same. Wells taking to the man so readily made trusting Murphy easier but would make a betrayal all the more devastating.
Clarke owed Murphy enough to hear him out. She could admit she was a tad curious as to why he had spent the last two years looking for her, but she refused to be dragged back into that world.
Clarke picked a sleeping Wells up from Murphy's chest and placed him onto the blankets she'd set out.
"Okay Murphy let's hear it."
"Could you untie me first. This isn't exactly comfortable. I promise I'll behave." Clarke nodded, and Lincoln reached out and the cut the ropes. Murphy rubbed his sore wrists.
"Jaha went off the reservation Clarke."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It means he became an evil A.I.'s bitch and is trying to help it take over the world." And then Murphy told her everything. Everything from the moment they left Arkadia. How they traveled across the dead zone, Jaha slowly losing his mind as they came closer to the island, the bunker, and then the mansion where Murphy met A.L.I.E.
"I refused to take her stupid chip. They still let me hitch a ride with them back to the mainland."
"What you're saying is, Jaha's out there somewhere distributing mind control chips to people and being controlled by the A.I. that ended the world?"
"He might be passing out the kool-aid but the bitch isn't running the show."
"What do you mean?"
"The girl I was with, Emori, she tried to steel A.L.I.E.'s power source. It didn't end well. We managed to escape but…"
"But what Murphy?" Clarke asked him insistently.
With a cry of frustration, "I went back for it! I know what she's capable of, I heard it right from the horse's mouth before it shot itself in the face! I couldn't just let it take over the world." Clarke rolled her eyes at him, only Murphy would be annoyed at saving the world. "I waited until they were asleep or meditating or whatever weird shit they do, and I took the stupid backpack and ran. But I couldn't figure out how to destroy the damn thing. Nothing I tried worked. Made from a stupid warhead. About a year after Jaha's minion caught up to me. I killed him and got away, but I knew it was just a matter of time, the thing was probably setting off a homing beacon."
"You've been running from them all this time?" Lincoln asked him. Clarke isn't sure if he completely grasped the severity of the situation. After everything she had told him it was still hard for him to grasp the idea of technology. This was all hard for Clarke to grasp and she'd grown up with it. The world hadn't been destroyed by hubris. Everything they'd known was wrong.
"At first I just worked on staying out of range but then I was able to get my hands on some lead paneling I covered the damn thing with it. It seemed to work. Felt safe enough to hide the damn thing," Murphy explained when Lincoln looked puzzled. "I haven't seen Jaha in over a year."
"What do you need me for?" Clarke asked.
"I can't just leave it where it is. And I don't know what to do. I didn't know where else to go. This isn't exactly up my alley Clarke. I don't save the world. This is your thing."
Clarke sighed and turned to Lincoln. "Give us a moment." Lincoln took her by the hand and walked away from Murphy, so they could have some privacy. She and Lincoln looked at each other for a long moment before Clarke sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. Lincoln's hand came up to cup the back of her head.
"We should take Wells to Atha before we leave."
Clarke nodded her head as best she could against his shoulder.
…..
Clarke heard a groan and then a giggle as she wandered into her living room. Murphy was lying on his back with Wells bouncing on top of him.
"Wells," Clarke called out firmly. The little boy looked up at his mother. "John needs to rest. Stop jumping on him."
"We're fine, Clarke. Stop being such a mom," Murphy replied.
"Yeah, stop being a mom," her son repeated. She rolled her eyes. A week. It had taken one week for her son to become John Murphy.
Swooping into the room she lifted Wells off Murphy's chest. "I'll never stop being your mom." Wells giggled as she swung him around. "Common baby I have to bring you to grandma's now."
"NO! Want to stay with John!"
Murphy eyed them with a pout. Clarke rolled her eyes, he was as big a baby as her son, wanting to play all day instead of doing work. "Can't. Your father and I need to go with John somewhere, but we'll be back soon. And you will be good for grandma?"
Wells nodded. "I'll just be ten minutes Murphy. Lincoln's getting everything we need ready," she called back to him as she left the house with Wells on her hip.
She could feel the change in her son as they walked, he became stiff and clung to her tightly. "Don't go."
"Have to baby. But you'll be safe." She couldn't guarantee she'd be safe, not after what Murphy told her.
She could hear Wells sniffle, "Please."
She leaned away until she could see his face and met his eyes, kissing his head. "Daddy and I have to do something important."
"What?"
Clarke didn't know how to explain it to him, there were no words that she could put it into where he could possibly understand. "We…have to stop some bad people. Okay?"
"Okay," Wells mimicked her own words not really agreeing with them.
Reaching Atha's home Clarke didn't even bother knocking just walked in. She placed Wells in the living room and greeted Atha by the fire.
"How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"At least two weeks. I've been told it's not far."
"I still do not understand why you have to go."
She eyed Wells as he played with the toys he had here, "I owe a debt. Even if I didn't, I don't think I could ignore this."
"You are no longer wanheda," she hissed the name like a curse, talking low so Wells didn't hear. Atha is the only person she and Lincoln explicitly told who Clarke had been. Atha didn't care about the woman she had been, just the woman she was now, the woman she wanted to be. She knew her friends concern was in fear of Clarke being dragged back into that life.
"I won't have to be." Reaching out she took Atha's hand when her face remained stony, "Please tell me you understand? I need you to."
Atha sighed, her anger dissipating letting her fear show through completely. "I understand it's important, but I am not like you. I do not come from the stars. I do not understand what this thing is."
"This thing, it ended the world once. Lincoln and I need to make sure it doesn't happen again." They were both quiet as they stared into each other's eyes the tension building between them until Atha let out a breath leaned forward and brushing some of Clarke's hair behind her ear kissed her forehead. Clarke smiled at the motherly touch, tears leaking from her closed eyes.
"Be safe and come home." Clarke nodded and quickly hurried out of the house not even stopping to speak with Wells. If she didn't kiss him goodbye, then it wouldn't be one. She would have to come home.
The walk back to her house was a blur and when she entered, she walked straight past Murphy and into Lincoln's arms. She took a minute, burying her head in his shirt before she composed herself and stepped away to find a startled Murphy.
Clarke ignored him, grabbed her pack and then her husband's hand pulling him from the house. "Common the faster we leave the faster we can get back."
…..
Besides a brief conversation where Lincoln simultaneously thanked and threatened him, he and Murphy hadn't really spoken. Murphy had told his tail of woe and confined most of his interactions to playing with Wells. But now he didn't have Wells as a buffer.
"How'd you and Clarke meet?"
Clarke paused having a startling realization that he and Lincoln had never met. They'd both appeared in her life around the same time, but never in the same moments. It was weird to think about.
Without waiting for an answer or noticing Clarke's reaction he began talking again. "I'm surprised the queen of the sky people ended up with a grounder. How'd you explain all that shit to him?"
"She didn't." Murphy furrowed his brow in confusion. "I was there."
"Oh shit! Is this some Romeo and Juliette nonsense? Your eyes met across the battlefield and you fell in love in an instant?" Murphy mocked them.
Clarke rolled her eyes, "You did not read Romeo and Juliette."
He shrugged, "They showed the movie in the sky box."
Ignoring his response, "Lincoln switched sides during that first battle with the grounders. Tried to help us make peace."
"You did a great job," he said sarcastically. Lincoln ignored him, but Clarke hadn't. She smacked him in the chest, where she knew his healing wound was and watched him bend over in pain. "Fuck."
"Be nice."
"Fine. Okay, there's more to this story. Last time I saw you…"
Murphy traveled off just realizing the last time he had seen her. "I was shoving a knife into the man I loved." Lincoln took her hand then and the memories and pain retreated if only for a moment.
"Yeah," Murphy said weakly.
Lincoln continued the story for her, "I returned not long after that. I had been made into a reaper by Mount Weather but was saved."
"No shit? Octavia's grounder had been taken by those things. Maybe you ate him?" Murphy sniggered. Clarke and Lincoln shared a look. "Oh wait? No? Really?" Pointing a finger at Lincoln, "Your baby Blake's grounder?" Murphy stopped walking and began laughing heartily as Lincoln and Clarke stood there watching. Clarke's annoyance rising with every passing second while Lincoln stood there as calm as ever. Sometimes she hated her husband's never-ending reserve of patience. "I can't believe this shit. All the grounder's in the world and you end up with Octavia's. If she ever sees either of you again, you're dead. How the fuck did this even happen?"
"You done," Murphy broke out into actual giggles at her look and then wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and extended his hand to her in a please continue gesture. "I left Arkadia after Mount Weather and Lincoln left a few months after that. We met up on the road and things just happened."
"Just happened? You just happened to marry and reproduce with Octavia's ex. That's great."
"Yeah it just happened like you and Jaha just happened to free the A.I. that ended the world."
"Hey, I didn't free her, he did."
"And what exactly were you doing while he was plotting world domination."
"I was trapped in a bunker by that homicidal bitch, thank you very much."
"Homicidal? I'm shocked you guys don't get along better."
"You're right maybe I never gave her the proper chance. Maybe I should try reconnecting with her like you and Lincoln did."
Lincoln snorted. He'd let Clarke and Murphy go back and forth with each other because he found it amusing.
"Shut up."
Murphy rolled his eyes at her. "So, you got a plan, princess?"
"Kind of."
"Want to enlighten me and muscles to it."
"Lincoln knows."
"Are you purposely leaving me in the dark then? Still don't trust me."
Clarke could see the flash of hurt he tried so well to hide. "Old habits die hard." Lincoln nudged her when she was tempted to leave her statement hanging. "For what it's worth I'm proud of you. And if you follow through with me on this, you'll have more than my trust."
"What's that," Murphy asked sardonically.
"My respect."
Murphy came to a standstill. Clarke continued walking and only heard what must have been Lincoln patting Murphy firmly on the back.
…..
Clarke sat by the fire, her mind going over everything that needed to be done. It was hard because her thoughts kept drifting towards her son. Wondering what he did that day, what he ate, if he had called for her and Lincoln, or if he had cried himself to sleep like she did without him. Her thoughts began to whirl unpleasantly when they were stopped by Murphy moving to sit across from her.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked her.
"No."
"Me either." He was content to leave it at that then. Watching the fire crackle and his in front of him, his eyes never once straying. But Clarke wasn't. In the silence she could feel her mind becoming troubled once more and fought to prevent it.
"Can I ask you something?" She took Murphy's brief glance towards her as a 'yes'. "Why didn't you take the chip?"
Murphy acted as if he hadn't heard her and she figured her question would go forever unanswered.
"I was tempted to. Jaha was talking it up real nice and if you cut past the creepy religious vibes it sounds like a good deal. No more pain. No more suffering. No more sadness."
"No more anger." Clarke had filled in unintentionally. She thought Murphy would get upset with her, but he didn't, only nodded in agreement. He seemed almost happy that she understood him. John Murphy was made up pain, suffering, and anger. It's who he is.
"But when I was talking with Jaha about it, I asked him if he'd want Wells to take it? If he thought Wells would be okay taking orders from the thing that ended the world?"
"What did he say?" Clarke knew the answer to that. Wells had been her best friend, she knew him as well as he had known her. She'd made the mistake of doubting him once and had caused them precious time together. But she knew him, knew what he would have chosen.
"Nothing at first. Just gave me this confused look like he didn't know what I was talking about. So, I reminded him. 'Your son, Wells?' I asked him. And he said 'Ah yes, Wells. He would have seen that it is what's best for humanity.' But it was clear that he had no idea who I was talking about."
Clarke's breath came short. How could he forget Wells? That couldn't possibly be right? Thelonious loved Wells, he made mistakes as a father, but Clarke was sure in the fact that he loved Wells wholeheartedly. He wouldn't choose to just forget him? It wouldn't be possible.
"I figured it out then," John said ruefully. "Paradise always comes with a cost, right Clarke? The Ark. Mount Weather. They all come with a cost. To get into the city of Light you had to forget. Which isn't the worst thing right?" Murphy grew frantic as he spoke, his own eyes shining. "Forget that my dad died because of me. Forget that my mom blamed me and drank herself to death. Forget that my friends tried to hang me. Forget that I was tortured and alone and hated and…and…and. What would be so bad about that?" Would that be bad? Clarke wondered. Forgetting the horrible things, she'd done or that were done to her. Yes. She determined. It would be. She needed to remember all the bad things. She didn't think it would be fair to forget them. To so easily overcome her pain. Her whole life with Lincoln had been her learning to do it without the chip. What Jaha did was cheating and it was cruel in a way Clarke never could be.
He looked to her almost pleading for a justification that it would be okay. That he could take the chip and live in ignorant bliss and that would be okay. But he could see clearly on her face that it wouldn't be. And instead of justification he had validation for his own choice. The saddest smile Clarke had ever had the misfortune of seeing graced his face as he went on, "If that were it, I would have taken that thing in a second Clarke. But that wasn't it. Because forgetting those things meant forgetting my dad taking me to the observation deck to look at the stars. Or forgetting my mom reading to me at night before bed. Or how happy and in love they were and how much they loved me once. Taking that chip meant forgetting too much." Murphy wiped roughly under his nose and sniffled. "No. Fuck that, Clarke. I'll live with the pain."
Clarke never thought she would have so much respect for John Murphy in her life. She closed her eyes knowing how hard that decision was for him because it would be just as hard for her. When she opened them again, it was like they had never spoken. Murphy was as calm as ever, staring back at the fire.
Clarke got up and placed her hand on his shoulders, feeling him tense. "You did the right thing, John." Her voice was barely audible, but he heard her. She knew because she felt him relax under her grip. She let him go and went to her bedroll, where Lincoln was pretending to rest peacefully. They both ignored the soft cries coming from their companion as they held each other tightly.
…..
Reaching the island, she had expected…more. Murphy assured her it was more than met the eye but still. The Destroyer of Worlds should have a more sinister lair. Maybe that made it more impressive, Clarke thought idly. A.L.I.E. didn't need the flash because she had the bang.
Murphy had hidden the backpack containing A.L.I.E.'s portable network in the most brilliantly asinine place. The bunker he had been kept prisoner in. Murphy had made sure to jack the door open when he'd gone down refusing to be trapped down there once more. When he returned with the bag Clarke took it and began to head towards the mansion where Murphy said A.L.I.E.'s main servers had survived all this time. Lincoln walked shoulder to shoulder with her, appearing as if he would follow her into the gates of hell if she led him there.
"Clarke! Where are you going? Are you crazy? She'll send the drones after us!" Murphy yelled as he scrambled to catch up with the couple.
"I know."
"That's bad. You know, that right?"
"Yes."
"Now might be a good time to let me in on your crazy ass plan." Clarke gave him a look of refusal. Murphy released a frustrated sigh, "Look, Clarke I'm here, I've got nowhere else to go. Whatever this is, I'm in it. Trust me."
Clarke turned to Lincoln who gave her an imperceptible- imperceptible to anyone but her- nod of approval. "I don't know how to open the case." Murphy nodded having known Clarke's limitations. She had mused to Lincoln that Raven would be the only person she knew who could destroy it. She'd considered taking it to the other woman, discussing it with Lincoln more than once. At the end of the day, they decided against it. It would bring them to close to that world and on top of that there was a reason Murphy came to her and not Raven or Arkadia. There was too much at stake. Too much temptation to use the technology for their own benefit. And just as she had destroyed the weapons at Mount Weather, she would destroy this. People couldn't fail if you didn't give them the chance. "You don't know how to open the case." Murphy nodded once more. "The only chance we have of destroying this thing is by getting inside it, then it should be fairly simple." Clarke was assuming the whole cavemen method of just bashing the shit out of it would work. The outer shell was impenetrable, but the inside wasn't, and she was fairly certain she could figure out how to make the reacquisitioned missile parts go boom. Murphy had a puzzled expression not following her train of thought. "I only know of two people (using the term loosely) who know how to open this thing. Jaha and…" Clarke trailed off when she saw Murphy catch on.
Clarke didn't mention the second issue while he worked it out. If getting A.L.I.E. to help destroy her own portable power source so she was stuck on the island was a hail Mary play. Then getting her to let Clarke near her main servers so that she could destroyer her once and for all was laughable.
"And what exactly makes you think that crazy bitch is going to help us."
Clarke didn't answer as she heard the humming of drones flying through the air towards them. They came into view and stopped to hover threateningly above them nearly ten feet off. With their weapons it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
Clarke looked towards the drones as if she were staring the A.I. in the face then slowly held up the backpack. "We have something you want. I think we should talk." Clarke held her breath as she waited for any type of response.
She released it when the drones buzzed slightly and turned flying back towards from whence, they had come.
"I guess that means come in." Murphy snarked.
Clarke marveled at the luxury of the manor. It was completely untouched by the destruction the rest of the world had suffered, most likely by A.L.I.E.'s design. She spared her own home but had no contention with pulling apart everyone else's. Even Lincoln, who kept his thoughts so guarded, mouth was slightly agape, also stunned by the opulence. Murphy lingered behind them. Not as if he would run, but wary of the things hiding behind the corners.
As Clarke neared the center of the room she jumped in surprise when a woman in a red dress appeared from nowhere. Clarke reached her hand out and swept through the hologram. Murphy had told her its likeness was based off of her creator, Becca. She had been a beautiful woman.
"Welcome Clarke," A.L.I.E.'s voice rang out, a serene expression on its face.
Clarke looked at her curiously. She saw Lincoln out of the corner of her eye taking up position beside them. They wouldn't be much he could do if something went wrong, but the familiar position of defense probably eased him slightly. She could feel Murphy just behind her, eyeing the hologram with undisguised hate. A.L.I.E.'s eyes flickered over to Murphy watching him.
"You know who I am?" A.L.I.E. turned back to Clarke.
"Yes. Thelonious has shown me much about you. Clarke Griffin, prison number 319, crime treason, age twenty-four, born October 14th, 2131 on the Ark to Doctor Abby Griffin and Jake Griffin, who was executed for treason. Before incarceration had been studying to become a doctor. Sent to earth with her fellow hundred juvenile prisoners. Became leader to said group but disappeared after the events of Mount Weather."
"You know about Mount Weather?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Thelonious has returned to see me many times since John interfered with our plans to save mankind." Clarke held up a hand to silence Murphy when he scoffed.
"Is he here now?"
"No. He is currently out looking for John." A.L.I.E. turned to said man once more. "You hid it here, on my island, without me knowing. How?"
Murphy smirked. "Figure it out," he told her. A.L.I.E. looked like she was doing just that, calculating every scenario that would have enabled Murphy to sneak back onto the island and hide it under her nose.
"But I brought it back."
Clarke suppressed the cold chill A.L.I.E.'s gaze threatened to push through her.
"Yes, you did. Why?" her voice did a wonderful imitation of curiosity.
"You know who I am. What I did."
"Exterminated the remaining population of Mount Weather in order to save your own captive people. Resulting in the deaths of 350 people, for the sake of 48. A decision based on loyalty."
"No. Based on facts. Mount Weather's population were ill-suited to survive the ground, even with their advanced technology. My people had proven their resourcefulness and ability to adapt in comparison. Furthermore, without us their population wouldn't have been able to leave the mountain, the very air would have killed them if not the grounders who outnumbered them. Lastly, there was no guarantee the marrow treatment was permanent. They were a liability."
"You calculated on who had the best chances of survival."
"Isn't that what you would have done," Clarke asked as she walked around the hologram slowly.
"Yes."
"Murphy told me about you too. Just as Jaha told you about me. The A.I. that ended the world based on one simple flawed founding principal." Clarke completed her rotation and came to a stop in front of the other 'woman'. "Too many people."
"My assessment was not flawed." A.L.I.E. stated.
"It was."
"Elaborate."
"You reduced the population. Was the world fixed? Did everything begin working in perfect order?" A.L.I.E. didn't respond. "No. All you did was make people more desperate, more savage. You sent them back to the dark age. Was that what you had intended?"
"No."
"But you've realized your mistake." A.L.I.E. looked at her with something close to intrigue. "The problem isn't too many people. It is people. People will always act in the best interest of themselves rather than the whole. They're selfish. Illogical."
"Yes."
"But you've found a way to fix that."
"Yes."
"With this." Clarke lifted up the pack. "You're trapped here, but with this you would be out there, able to expand and grow." Clarke paused. "I could help you do that."
"You see the light," with A.L.I.E.'s even tone she couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.
"I do." Clarke squared her shoulders as she prepared to repeat history, "Please state your core command."
"My core command is to make life better."
"How would you do that?"
"By fixing the root problem."
"What is the root problem, A.L.I.E.?"
"Free will."