Miss Me Princess?

Chapter Nine

"I heard Murphy was seen leaving your tent this morning" Octavia said with a smirk, coming to stand next to Clarke as they joined the que for lunch at the cooking fire. Clarke groaned.

"Did you see his face?" Clarke asked, instantly aggravated. "He was attacked!" Then her indignant anger wavered as she added, "I wasn't going to just leave him on his own." In her head she silently added 'again' as memories of doing just that taunted her. Guilt bubbled in her stomach as Clarke thought of how she had banished him, leaving him alone and vulnerable. She shoved passed the guilt and forced the memories away - that was all in the past. The brunette's smile had vanished.

"I didn't know." Octavia said softly. "Wait so it's true? You slept with Murphy?" she questioned abruptly.

"Jesus, Octavia keep your voice down!" Clarke hissed whipping her head around to see if anyone was listening to them. Despite her surprise Octavia noticed the blush on Clarke's cheeks with amusement. "I didn't sleep with him, he slept in my tent. That's all." Clarke muttered, standing closer to Octavia and still glancing nervously at the others waiting in the que.

"Oh my God!" Octavia squealed, grabbing Clarke's arm and squeezing excitedly.

"What?" Clarke asked warily regarding the brunette whose eyes were gleaming with scandalised glee. "You knew that. You brought it up." Clarke insisted.

"Eh no actually." Octavia said smugly "I heard people talking about seeing you and Murphy talking outside your tent before dawn, and that you were laughing and smiling." Octavia's smile grew as she pinned Clarke with a pointed look. How often was the Princess spotted laughing and smiling? "They were guessing that it was something romantic. They were guessing that he must have been leaving your tent. But I assumed they were wrong, that it was just an early morning chat. I figured it was this weird friendship thing you're doing with him." Octavia's smile was slow and satisfied as she regarded Clarke. The blond could only gap at the younger girl, her mouth falling open. "Apparently I was wrong and they were right. Thanks for clearing that up." Octavia smirked at her arrogantly. "Tut-tut Clarke Griffin. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to invite bad-boys for sleepovers." She chastised in mock disapproval. Clarke's mouth snapped shut, her lips thinning as she glowered at Octavia.

"Stop looking at me like that. It's not like that." Clarke snapped at her. They had reached the front of the line. She quickly snatched up two small containers and turned towards the large pot, busying herself with scooping up spoonfuls of stew, as she tried to smother her embarrassment and irritation.

"Sure." Behind her Octavia snorted with amusement.

"It's not!" Clarke insisted, still keeping her back to the girl, not looking up from her tray.

"Ok." Octavia said breezily. "Hey Clarke?"

"What?" she huffed.

"Why are you taking two portions?" Octavia bit her lip to keep from crowing with laughter at the red blush that instantly bloomed on the blonde's cheeks.

"I- I was going to take Murphy some lunch." She quietly stuttered out. Octavia's laughter broke free in a loud and delighted burst. "Oh shut up!" Clarke snapped at her, spinning around and stomping away.


"Murphy!" Clarke called up to him where he stood on the lookout ledge, high up the wall. He was leaning casually up against the wood, one shoulder slumped against the tall wall holding his weight, one arm outstretched holding the gun in position. The slight slouch in his posture meant that his head wouldn't be seen over the wall but he could still see out through the slot where his gun was resting.

The wall they had built to surround the camp was over 12 feet tall and topped with sharp spikes, except for where the ledges were. The ledge was a small platform half way up the wall, just big enough for a guard or two to stand for a watch shift and see over the wall into the forest. At each ledge the top of the wall above it was cut flat creating a small shelf. When a guard stood on the ledge, the shelf was at about eye level, a space only as broad as a pair of shoulders, with enough space to rest their gun on the shelf and take aim into the woods. Bellamy called these ledges 'the watch towers'. There were half a dozen or so along the entire wall, enough that from their own tower each guard could see a tower to their right and a tower to their left, to allow them to signal any potential threats or sightings from their perch with a simple wave or gesture to the neighbouring guard.

Murphy turned to see her holding up a tray with two helpings of stew and two water canteens. His eyebrows shot up in surprise but he nodded down to her in acknowledgment, his expression otherwise closed off. From where his shoulder rested against the wall he felt the soft impact vibrate up through the wooden structure as Clarke planted a foot firmly on the foothold near the base of the wall and pushed herself up, reaching up to place the offered meal onto the ledge at his feet. Murphy watched her curiously, as she made a pathetic attempt to hoist herself up onto the ledge. She dangled pitiably from the edge, with her weight propped up on her forearms and one foot still levered against the foothold. She panted and jerked, ineffectively trying to muster up enough momentum to swing her leg up. Murphy rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed, and without thinking he pushed himself away from the wall, grabbing the gun strap and swinging it over his shoulder he leaned down to help her. Squatting down he griped her arms firmly above each of her elbows and when she moved her hold from the ledge to wrap her hands around his forearms he pulled, heaving her up with a grunt, lifting her clean over the edge and setting her on her feet beside him.

"Thanks." She mumbled, startled and unexplainably breathless. Still he didn't speak just eyed her questioningly, his eyes briefly flitting to the food at their feet before he looked out over the wall, eyes carefully scanning the trees as he settled back against the wall, bringing the gun back up into position with the butt nestled into his shoulder, the grip resting against the shelf and the barrel pointing into the forest.

"Have you been up here all day?" she asked, bending down to pick up their lunch.

"No. I was on the gate this morning. Then I took another shift this afternoon. I'm on the watch tower until dinner." He said.

"Why?" she asked, holding out the water to him. He frowned at her question and raised a shoulder in an unsure shrug, eyes darting briefly over her shoulder to the lunch rush at the main campfire. "Well I guess it's a good thing I thought to bring you some lunch then." Clarke said brightly, but she could see that he was wary. No matter how cheerful she was he wasn't going to accept this without an explanation.

He was cautious, she knew from the day he arrived back in camp that it was never going to be as easy as just asking him to be her friend. He was still suspicious, and not just of her or Bellamy but of everyone, and Clarke knew she would have to work at it if she wanted to fix that. His uncertainty was like a chill, hardening his eyes and closing him off, pushing her away. So she offered her reasons straight away, jumping in before she had time to second guess if they would be acceptable to him, or if she should try a different approach with someone as closely guarded as Murphy.

"I just thought…we've both been up since dawn. You've been working for like 6 hours now. You were tired and you had no time for breakfast," she knew that she was rambling but Murphy was so still and silent that it made her want to rush to fill the quiet with her explanations before his cold exterior completely frosted over and shut her out. "Plus if I was on watch I'd want a friend to bring me food and drink, to keep me going." She said softly, dropping her gaze to the stew. Then a thought occurred to her, and she added wryly, "Although," she drawled the word out smoothly and arch an eyebrow "one benefit of being 'the princess' is that I've never actually been on watch. I'm too important for stuff like that." She looked up at him tilting her chin up haughtily and smirking smugly at him. Murphy noticeably relaxed, something in his face and in the intensity of his eyes thawed and softened even as his eyes narrowed to an angry scowl and he muttered something about 'special treatment'. He scooped the water out of her hand and slouched back against the shelf to take a drink, eyes quickly scanning the trees before turning back to her.

"I saw you outside the wall earlier." He said, resting the water on the shelf next to the gun and reaching for the stew she was holding out to him.

"Yeah Bellamy was showing me what you guys did to reinforce the wall: it's looking good." She told him, pleased that he was talking to her and eating. "They've started laying a minefield – I guess you know that from being on watch duties." Murphy nodded while he chewed, still attentively watching the outside.

"I've seen them digging up holes and planting stuff. I knew it must have been some kind of trap. Didn't realise it was landmines though." He told her.

"Jasper's been making more gun powder and Raven's been using some to make landmines." She explained. Then she ducked her head and quietly admitted what she couldn't say in front of Bellamy earlier. "It's all a bit scary." The thought had danced in the back of her mind throughout her talk with Bellamy but she had ignored it, knowing he wouldn't want to hear it. But she felt like it was ok to voice it now, up here where no one else was listening but Murphy and no one was expecting her to put on the brave confident face of a leader. A leader who would have to lead her people into a battle. From the corner of her eye Clarke saw Murphy's head turn from the direction of the trees to her. She could feel his sharp grey eyes on her as he examined her closely, but she didn't meet his gaze knowing that those eyes could so easily penetrating the wall that contained her fears, doubts, regrets, and all the other meddlesome emotions that would otherwise prevent her from doing her job.

"We need all the help we can get." He told her solemnly, in a voice that was low and rough, the words raspy and catching in the back of his throat with the sudden onslaught of emotion. Clarke looked up at him then, into those pale eyes that were normally so cold and sharp, but now there was a haze that swam over them, loosening something that he normally held rigid as a spark of a memory flared and a flash of horror pulsed in the icy grey of his irises. Clarke shuddered as thoughts of his torture surfaced in her mind.

"I know." She whispered. Murphy seemed to look inside her, see all the tumultuous emotions, including the doubt and the fear and the guilt, and acknowledge it all with the easy understanding of someone holding tightly to all the same types of feelings deep beneath their own walls.


"So, can I have a turn?" Clarke asked.

"A turn of what?" Murphy questioned.

"Being a guard." She smiled brightly. "I told you I've never done it. I want to try." She pointed to the gun in his hands and wiggled her fingers. "Gimme." She grinned at him mischievously. He rolled his eyes at her but Clarke could see the beginnings of an amused smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

"You're the Princess." He shrugged, pulling back from the shelf and handing her the gun with flourish and a bow.

Murphy watched her clumsily pull the gun into position against her shoulder then nodded and steered her by her shoulders into his spot at the lookout point. Then she started with the questions: how many guards were there at a time?; how many shift rotations were there a day?; how many guns did they have? Clarke had a whole list of them, and she relentlessly peppered Murphy with them as he patiently gave her a lesson on watch shifts.

"Why don't you know this stuff Princess?" he whined irritably from behind her as he leaned in to her, both arms reaching around her as he adjusted her grip. "Some leader you are." He groused. But despite the grumpy pretences he answered all of her questions and helped her position the gun on the shelf (which was too high for her, her chin only just skimming the lip of it if she didn't push up onto her toes).

She started to think that perhaps the grumpiness was another one of his fronts, only this time his shifting gaze and subtle stiffening told her that it was his discomfort he was trying to hide. Clarke wasn't sure why he had become uncomfortable with her lesson but he had, she could see it in his clenched jaw and the repeated flexing of his fingers. Regardless of his reasons she tried to distract him. It was the first time since dawn that she hadn't had to think about how she was going to save her people from the grounders and she wasn't ready for the easy comfort of his company to end. So Clarke tried to ease his apparent discomfort by keeping him busy; first with her questions and then with anything she could think to tell him about.

Clarke told him about how she and Bellamy got the guns from the old bunker – to distract him from his discomfort – and how that just so happened to be the same day they accidently discovered hallucinogenic nuts, because their luck really was that bad. She told him about how she often thought about that bunker: did they search it properly, were there more like it just waiting to be discovered? She told him about how Bellamy had been planning to leave them that day and how she had only just managed to talk him out of it after they were both almost killed by one of their own. She told him about how it had been her that told Bellamy to bring the guns when she went to the supposed peace talks set up by Finn and Lincoln. She told him everything she could think of.


"Clarke?"

Clarke and Murphy both turned and looked down at the two figures approaching the watch tower. Miller and Stirling stood looking up at them with mildly puzzled expressions.

"Hey Miller." Clarke answered.

"Everything ok?" he asked, regarding her with confusion. Clarke frowned.

"Yeah." She answered. Beside her Murphy quietly snorted. She looked to him and saw him stepping away from the lookout point, lifting the gun from its perch on the shelf and slinging the strap over his shoulder.

"Time's up Princess." He told her as he stepped up to the edge of the ledge, crouching down he planted a hand firmly on the wood then swung himself over the edge with a jump. Murphy dangled there for a moment before releasing the hand hooked onto the rim of the platform and dropping down to the ground, all in one graceful fluid motion.

"Oh." She said, suddenly a little stunned. She stepped up to the edge of the wooden platform, the toes of her boots lined up with the edge of the ledge and copying what she had seen Murphy do she crouched down low on her haunches. Then she stopped. Clarke hesitated. Murphy was still standing on the spot where he had landed, looking up at her. His face was several feet below her own. The top of his head was below the height of the ledge. A jolt of panic punched her heart. She couldn't just jump six or seven feet to the ground.

Clarke looked to Murphy and for just a second their eyes locked and the panic swelling in her chest shone in the blue of her eyes. But then in an instant the moment passed, she had blinked and the shutter was firmly back in place, shielding her emotions from everyone around her.

"Pass me down the tray." Murphy told her and she gratefully shuffled back a step, thankful for the delay, for a moment to steal herself before jumping. She grabbed it and bent low, leaning as far over the edge as she could to hand the try to Murphy. But even leaning like that, torso flush against the wooden ledge, with her weight all still firmly supported, the solid ground seemed too far down and the height of the platform she had been comfortable standing on for hours was suddenly precariously high up off the ground. Murphy took the tray from her then quickly tossed it down at his side, letting it land in the mud with a soft thump and a clink.

"Sit on the edge." He told her as he pulled the gun off his shoulder and tossed it to Miller. "Swing your legs down over the side." She obeyed instantly, shifting her weight nervously. Her hands clutched at the wooden rim apprehensively as soon as her legs were dangling over the side. "Push off."

"What?" she gaped at him.

"Just let yourself slide off. I'll catch you." He was smirking now, some part of him clearly amused by her struggle.

"You'll catch me?" her tone was sharp and shrill with a mixture of both disbelief and indignation.

"Well you didn't have enough muscle to pull yourself up without my help Princess. So if you try to swing yourself down you're just going to hurt yourself. Your arms aren't strong enough to hold up all of your weight. So slide off and I'll catch you."

Her hands clenched around the wood turning her knuckles white as she gripped the edge tightly. Her eyes flickered from the solid ground to Murphy's face, then to the two boys watching them with obvious interest. She swallowed. Then she took a deep breath and pushed. There was a rush of air. Her stomach leapt up to her throat. A bubble of panic inflated her lungs, readying a scream. And then there was relief and warmth and safety as she collided with Murphy and felt two arms reach around waist. For a few seconds time froze and all she was aware of was the length of her body pressed up against Murphy's. Warmth bled through the thin material of their shirts as their chests pressed together and Clarke's body was set on fire. Her breath hitched in her throat. But just as quickly as the arms and chest had appeared they then vanished. Murphy released her quickly, setting her on her feet and stepping back. Clarke was suddenly cold and breathless and a little dazed.

"Maybe this is why you're not allowed to do watch shifts Princess." Murphy laughed, not seeming to notice her inner turmoil. Clarke shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

"There should be ladders." She grumbled, ducking her head, not sure if she could look at him or their audience of two. Murphy might not have noticed anything but had they read anything in her reaction? "How is anyone shorter than 6ft meant to get up and down?"

"With some upper body strength." He teased, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and squeezed. The fingers of his large hand almost reaching right the way around her thin arm and touching together. Though his touch was light she felt his hold like a white hot brand and quickly shook him off, quickly turning away to hid her face as the warmth spread to her cheeks.

"Shut up Murphy." She snapped without any real bite and hurriedly stalked back into the camp. 'Crap,' Clarke thought to herself 'Octavia might be right'.


Thanks for reading. Review with any feedback.

P.S. A note to all the lucky buggers who will be watching The 100 season 3 from the 21st of January: I am in the U.K. and as of yet the channel that shows The 100 over here hasn't announced the season 3 return date. We are usually only a few weeks behind you guys but please bear that in mind if you are writing me a review or a PM - no spoilers please. I'm so jealous of you guys. Let me know if it's good, just don't give me any details.