Miss Me Princess?

Chapter Six

Clarke's P.O.V.

The atmosphere in the 100s camp was tense. For two days the air crackled with nervous anticipation as they waited… And waited. The sky and wind and air seemed to press down heavily on them all as their nerves began to fray and splinter. The time taunted them as it passed, building them up and leading them to a precarious crescendo.

The grounders were coming.

Soon.

The only way to stay sane, Clarke found, was to stay busy. Which wasn't a problem as it seemed the knowledge of a pending invasion resulted in a massive amount of preparation. Weapons had to be made, or cleaned and stockpiled; food and water had to be gathered, prepared and stored; and security increased dramatically, with guard and watch shifts being doubled round the clock while reinforcements were added to the supports of the wall and the gate. Clarke hoarded rags of cloth for bandages, ground seaweed for antiseptic, and sorted through any odds and ends she could find in an attempt to make some kind of practical use out of them, be it medical or otherwise. They overwhelmed themselves with extensive preparations. Clarke watched on as people immersed themselves fully into the most mundane tasks with a dedication and vigour she had never seen before, not even on the ark. As though all the hard work that had to come first could somehow delay what was coming after it.

So for what must have been the first time in her life Clarke found that she was actively seeking out company, tucking herself into groups and sinking into the community. Conversations and interactions wrapped around her as she worked side by side with friends, letting their exchanges and connections comfortably swaddle her in a blanket of social interactions. Clarke mentally traced a finger along each emotional link through the camp, from person to person, camp fire to camp fire. Each bond of friendship or camaraderie that weaved its way through all 100 until they were all linked as a community by more than just being there together, or having come from the ark together. With a cold ache of melancholy wrapping tightly around her ribs Clarke realised that the 100 had built themselves into more of a community than the populations of the ark had ever been. Her breathing grew pained as she realised how much peril that community was in now. They had to do everything they could to fight the grounders. Anything they could.

But pressure was building inside the camp; nerves and anticipation were swelling and buffeting up against the restrictions of the wall. Tension was bleeding through the cracks and building momentum as the 100 anxiously waited for the inevitable under a tension that was so taut it would soon snap. Violently.

Clarkes blood was boiling through her veins as she stomped away from yet another fight, the third she'd had to break up this morning. Only this time it had been Murphy. Her heart clenched at the image of him taking another shove and resolutely not reacting to it. Once again she found herself searching for simple and easy chatter to immerse herself in, to distract from the pain in her chest that lead to thoughts of grounders, that led to fear, that led to-.

A distraction.

She needed the type of socializing that she had always avoided during her life on the ark - seeing it as superficial - but craved now as something to soak up and revel in, as proof of a healthy and happy camp. She wanted to lose herself in the teasing, gossiping and giggling of teenage lives - anything to help her forget how grave their situation was soon about to become. As she boiled off a large pot of water for a second batch of seaweed antiseptic tea, Clarke let herself get distracted by the vapid rantings of two young girls who were discussing the admirable qualities of some boy they both liked as they worked nearby. Their frantic whispers were punctuated with bursts of hushed giggles that had Clarke's heart clenching and her eye softening as she watched them from the corner of her eye while they filled and sealed a stock of water flasks from the camp water tank. She let their dialogue flow over her and consume her, sucking her into their world. This filled Clarke's head for almost forty minutes as she admired their friendship with its trust and shared secrets, admired their feelings so innocent and sweet and freely given, and puzzled over whether or not she was picturing the right guy; since she was quite sure the object of their affection, the 'yummy-enough-to-eat' hunter was a good three years older than them, and already had a girlfriend.

"Hey which one of them is Marc." Clarke asked Octavia as soon as she plopped down beside her. Octavia held her hands towards Clarke's cooking far to absorb some of its heat as she scanned the group working on the wall reinforcements.

"The long haired one sharpening that…tool thing. Why?" She answered, turning back to Clarke with a confused look. Everyone knew Clarke Griffin was 'too busy for petty gossiping', as was her usual answer whenever the meaner side of girls would start to shine through and threaten to bite at her. Clarke shrugged casually.

"Oh you know, just camp gossip." She smiled brightly. Pleased to have surprised Octavia and eager to cling onto her light-hearted mood for as long as she possibly could. "I think I've discovered a love triangle." The brightness in her smile had sharpened into gleefulness as she teased the younger girl, but then it vanished as soon as Octavia's own expression morphed quickly from shocked to calculating. Clarke knew instantly that the light-heartedness was over.

"Speaking of love triangles," Octavia started slowly, her eyes raking over Clarke evaluating "what's going on with you and Finn?" The sickening twist in her gut at the mention of that mistake reminded Clarke why she usually hated gossip so much.

"Nothing!" She gritted out, more forcefully than was necessary in her frustration and impatience for any association between herself and Finn to be forgotten.

"Just checking." Octavia instantly brightened, hold her hands up in surrender and grinning at her. "I didn't think there was. I wanted to make sure." Something of to the side caught her eye and she added in a thoughtful murmur, "Which just makes it even stranger."

"What?" Clarke frowned.

"That." Octavia nodded in the direction of the tent which was currently a makeshift ammunitions factor as Raven, Monty and Jasper worked on recreating Raven's rocket-fuel bridge bomb into a more combat appropriate form.

Raven and Finn stood in front of the tent. Raven was barely outside of the canvas, arms folded firmly across her chest, hip popped out to the side. Finn seemed to be pleading with her, arms spread out wide in an open gesture, reaching out to her. Raven wouldn't look at him. She stood stiff and unmoving with a demeanour that was so cold it was almost palpable.

Clarke was confused. This was the kind of scene she had feared when Raven had first arrived. The kind of fight she had dreaded being pinned in the middle of. For days after Ravens arrival Clarke felt like she was holding her breath through each passing hour just waiting for the world to fall apart around her. But amazingly it had never happened. She had made it as clear as possible to both of them, without actually saying it, that she was out. She had taken a respectful if somewhat shameful and humiliated step back and made it obvious she was not interested in being involved in anything. At all. And it had seemed to work. Raven - as strong and amazing as she was - seemed able to brush everything aside and move passed it. Finn and Raven were fine. Or so it had seemed to Clarke. Had she missed something? Familiar shivers of guilt and disgust crawled across her skin at the thought of the betrayal she had unconsciously committed and a shot of fear flared in her that she was somehow still involved. Perhaps it was just amplified for her by her own fear and sensitivity towards this particular conflict but as she watched them it seemed like the tension between Raven and Finn was even worse now than it had been when Raven first arrived and discovered Clarke and Finn's affair.

"How long have they been like that?" Other girls would have made a big deal about Clarke asking that kind of question about the relationship she had unknowingly got in the middle of. They would have made assumptions and poked at her with questions, mixing up gossip and passing it along until stories and accusations were being freely swapped around the evenings dinner campfires. But not Octavia, she recognised the genuine note of concern in the blonde's voice. So both her tone and her expression were soft and kind when she answered the question honestly.

"Since you got sick." Clarke turned her attention from the couple to Octavia, surprised and confused. "Apparently the way Finn reacted to you collapsing made Raven think he still cares about you. Which I guess wouldn't have been that bad if it wasn't for the fact that he then hesitated to help Raven with the bomb. Which has got her thinking that he cares about you more than he cares about her. And that's bad." Clarke openly flinched at the feeling of guilt all slimy and disgusting as it squirmed through her stomach. Octavia regarded her appraisingly then asked: "So if they break up do you think…in time…you and Finn…?" She let her suggestion hang there unspoken, watching carefully to gauge Clarke's reaction.

"Ew! No." Clarke answered quickly, glancing over at the warring couple with a grimace and turning back to Octavia shaking her head. "Not interested." She said firmly, chasing away the thought with a shudder. Giving a thoughtful hum Octavia transformed quickly, dropping her serious frowns and assessing stares, slipping on a conspiratorial smile that had Clarke instantly nervous.

"What?" she couldn't keep the tell-tale ring of dread out of her question. Octavia laughed at her.

"I'm just wondering if you're not interested in Finn because you're interested in someone else...Maybe Murphy?" Clarke's eyes grew comically wide. She found herself choking on air as she gasped in shock whilst simultaneously seeming to forget how to breathe all at the same time. She fumbled her stirring rod, dropping it into the boiling water and almost scalding herself.

"Wh-what?" she managed to splutter around a dry cough. Another delighted laughed issued from Octavia.

"I've been watching you two." She said with a one-shouldered shrug and a coy smile that told Clarke the girl would not be letting this idea go anytime soon. "I've seen how nice he is to you, even although he's still a bastard to everyone else. And you're always watching him and going to talk to him."

"It's not like that." Clarke urged. Her mind jumped to this morning when Justin had been provoking him so cruelly. Clarke felt the emotions she had felt then swell up in her chest again in a jumbled knot and struggled to separate them into nameable strands, but couldn't. She frowned.

"Oh. Ok." but it didn't sound sincere. Clarke started to protest only to splutter some more as she distractedly reached for the stirring rod again only to yank her hand away with a hiss of pain, having forgotten it would still be too hot to touch. Clarke felt the heat from the burn across her pam spread up her neck in a flush and into her cheeks, she was shocked and flustered and that only made her angry but she tripped clumsily over her objects before she could even get them out. With a groan she gave up trying to explain herself and with a look at the grin on Octavia's face she realised it would have been pointless to even try. Utterly shell-shocked by Octavia's suggestion, terrified of what it might lead the impulsive girl to say or do next, and in a state of inner turmoil as she tried to settle her own thoughts and form her own opinion on the idea; Clarke had never before been so pleased and so relieved to hear Bellamy Blake's voice.

"Octavia! Why are you just sitting about? Leave Clarke alone and come and help us with the food: the last hunt still has to be skinned." A wave of irritation washed over Octavia's features promptly sweeping away the mischievous quirk from her lips. Rolling her eyes she pushed herself to her feet with a frustrated groan.

"God! How can you stand to listen to him all the time? He's so annoying." Octavia whined as she brushed the dirt off her pants and headed away from the small cooking fire. Clarke laughed softly then finding her voice again she called after her as she walked away.

"Don't fight with him. I've been splitting up fights all day, I'm too busy to come and play council-person to the two of you too." In response Octavia shot her a dark look over her shoulder.

"Hey, don't think this is over." She called out. A smug and satisfied smile appeared when she saw Clarke cringe and quickly look away, her attention falling back to her seaweed tea to avoid the conversation going any further.


Clarke groaned and mentally cursed Octavia as yet again she found her thoughts straying to Murphy. Her mind kept rotating between replaying this morning's confrontation between him and Justin, and trying to wrap her head around Octavia's ridiculous suggestion...

Murphy?

Her being interested in Mu- No! No.

It was ridiculous.

She couldn't even bring herself to finish the thought inside her own head. The idea had never been in her head until Octavia forced it in there with her silly questions and teasing. And if she had never thought it before then it obviously wasn't the case, because she would know if she was interested in M-

But she wasn't. No. Ridiculous…So why then did her mind keep pulling distractingly at her concentration, as she tried to listen to the conversations going on around her, tugging her attention inside towards the buzzing hive of her own thoughts? Her eyes absently skimmed across the camp, not really registering what they were seeing as they skating over each body, each face, until they landed on Murphy and stopped. Her eyes had been locked on him for several minutes before Clarke realised what she was doing. She was watching him. Why? Octavia had said she watched him. How often did she do this without realising it? What else had Octavia said: that she talked to him; that he was nicer to her than he was to others. Was that true?

She paid attention now as her eyes picked him out from amongst a group working on the wall. It was laborious work. Only Bellamy and the other older and stronger males of the camp were able to do this kind of work. They carted in big rocks and boulders, stacking them along the base of the wall to sure up its foundations; they hauled large branches and tree trunks and dug them into deep divots as support beams. Despite the coolness in the air Murphy had removed his jacket and the exertion of the work made his t-shirt damp and clingy with sweat. With his arms, face and neck all freely exposed Clarke could see the sites of some of his grounder injuries, all of which were healing well. The bruises were fading to blotchy greens and yellows, she observed, which meant it was over a week since he had come back to camp, closer to two weeks probably.

When they first came to earth the 100 had been an unsettled and volatile group for weeks. It had seemed impossible that she would convince anyone to do anything practical or to work as a community to keep them alive. At one stage Clarke had hopelessly thought that they would descend into anarchy, or worse tyranny – with an obnoxious Bellamy rallying the mob at his will. But with the help of people like Wells and Jasper and Monty and Octavia and Finn, she had slowly started to get things done and more importantly to get people to listen to hear. Over time the novelty of earth and freedom wore off and the 100 started settle and consolidate into a camp. She and Bellamy had eventually managed to work together in a strange power dynamic that was accepted by the others, and they had all come together as a community.

Murphy had been unlucky to be party of the initial turbulence and uncertainty without then getting to experience the settling that had followed. He had been back with them now for over a week, maybe nearer to two and he had barely interacted with anyone, at least not by choice. He was still an ass and he still made it known when he wasn't happy with someone. But neither was he actively causing friction or instigating violence amongst the 100 as he might have before back when there had still been turmoil. Although he was working with them now, Murphy was noticeably staying separate from the group of boys he had been a part of before, who made up most of the 100s hunters and perimeter patrollers, but was that through choice or not? The person he had interacted most with, in the last week or so was her, she realised with a start, and she was pretty sure they were almost…friends? Were they? Maybe? Or was that just how she had interpreted things because she wanted to be his friend? And she did want to be his friend, she realised. Would he want that too? She hoped so.

From across the camp a pair of steely grey eyes connected with hers and held. Clarke gasped. She had fallen into her thoughts again, not realising that she was still watching him, still staring, until his gaze had found hers and reached across the camp to shock her back into awareness. Time slowed and stretched as their connection held. Clarke felt a rush of embarrassment at being caught watching him but now that he held her gaze she fought the impulse to quickly look away. His eyes were penetrating as they regarded her and Clarke realised that in this situation someone might offer an embarrassed smile or a nod of acknowledgment but Murphy was watching her for something else. His look was one of confusion and distrust, doubt and wariness. His expression was guarded and he was unsure of her attention. Clarke looked away and ducked her head feeling shame and embarrassment.

His expression softened from his instinctive cagey demeanour to a look of bewilderment. But Clarke missed this. She also didn't see how he glanced back over at her once or twice before giving up and getting back to work. Once she was sure Murphy would be busy working again she chanced a look back. She realised then that this was the same group the two young girls had been watching earlier because the person working alongside Murphy now was 'yummy-enough-to-eat' Marc from the love triangle.

'Of course they were watching this group', thought Clarke as she watched them sharpen large spears, 'it's got most of the camps prim males in one place. Not to mention working hard and-'. Appalled with herself Clarke once again tore her gaze away, this time moving so her back was towards them, lessening the temptation to sit and gape at them while her thoughts ran away with her. This was all Octavia's fault. Octavia and the after effects of a day of listening into teenage drama. That was all. This is what she got for indulging in a day of distractions from the grounders, she thought wryly. The softest titter of muffled laughter floated towards her, coming from straight ahead in her new position facing a cluster of tents. Clarke spotted the two young girls from earlier, now sitting under the cover of one of the tents, it's side tied open to give them a full view of the camp as they sorted through large containers of berries and nuts, organising them into ration packets. They were both blushing furiously and staring off behind Clarke at a point just over her shoulder. She clenched her jaw and scowled, fighting to resist the overwhelming urge to look round. Within minutes, movement at another tent drew her attention as Raven burst out of the ammunitions tent and stalked off with a beseeching Finn following close behind her. With that Clarke started to grab at her things, hastily gathering up what she needed and abandoning the rest for later she scampered off to the dropship to see if she could better distract herself from her distractions in there. This was why she had always preferred to avoid the teenage girliness she griped to herself as she hurried back into the solitude, craving it once again.


Thank you to all the readers and followers and favouriters and reviewers. One guest reviewer in particular has completely shaken me up with their suggestion - I'm going to have to reconsider where I was originally going to go with this story. Thank you. Suggestions are amazing for tickling plot ideas out of me.

All feedback is welcomed, so tell me what you think. Good or bad - I can take it!

P.S. remember this one was Clarke P.O.V., so the next chapter is Murphy P.O.V. and it's almost done.