Miss Me Princess?

Chapter Eleven

Despite their good moods when they left camp just after sunrise, the day's trek was silent and serious. The bunker was a good distance away and Clarke and Murphy both wanted to be back at camp by nightfall, neither of them wanting to spend a night in the forest, which kept their pace quick. But, while she had expected a hard day's trek, Clarke hadn't anticipated Murphy's solemnness. The John Murphy she knew was cocky, carefree and self-assured. That didn't mean she had expected him to go arrogantly strutting through the woods, he had noticeably become quieter and more mature since his return. But he still had a sharp wit and a teasing sense of humour, still had that hard edge that projected confidence and danger, from years of incarceration as a juvenile. Clarke had been looking forward to spending the day with him, she realised now with a flush of embarrassment. She inwardly scolded herself as she thought about how she had imagined this day might go: naively, she had thought it would be a perfect opportunity for them to talk and spend some time together away from prying eyes, for them to be themselves and get to know each other. It was a serious mission and she had gone and romanticised the whole thing in her head. She cringed with embarrassment. Then she frowned and watched Murphy with concern. He was keenly alert, continually searching for any sign that they weren't alone. With a ready grip on his gun, he was constantly on his guard as his eyes meticulously surveyed their surroundings.

It was almost midday and they had been silently trekking for hours when they stopped at a narrow stream to fill their water canteens. Clarke's nerves were frayed. Murphy's hypervigilance was making her paranoid about their safety. His silence left her feeling isolated, and apprehensive that she had done something or said something. And all the while a thought niggled at the back of her mind that this had been a bad idea. She sat on a rock beside the water and fidgeted around nervously in their pack for ration packets. "You think coming out here was a bad idea?" she questioned Murphy hesitantly. He looked at her, his forehead creased with confusion.

"I think we need food and guns if we hope to stand a chance against the grounders." Clarke shook her head dejectedly, the niggling feeling nudging at her again. She knew Murphy well enough by now to know that something was off. He didn't want to be here? She wondered confused. Then the niggle returned, wriggling insistently until it reached the centre of her thoughts and her stomach dropped with the realisation: he was scared. A burning feeling of guilt began to rise from her stomach.

"But you don't want to be here, out in the woods." She pressed him, her fingers curling around the bundles of nuts and squeezing nervously. Murphy sighed.

"I don't want to bump into any grounders." He admitted, lowering his eyes. He paused for a moment before turning back to her and adding, "But we couldn't have the Princess traipsing through the woods on her own could we?" he was trying to joke, to make light of the situation but he saw the shimmer of hurt in her eyes and could almost see the weight of guilt press down heavier on her shoulders. She had gone pale.

"Clarke." He started to reassure her but paused again, unsure how to explain. "I'm worried about the grounders. It's been days since they let me go, to come running back to camp with a deadly virus. They had a plan, they were going to attack. One bomb on a bridge and now nothing?" Murphy ranted, running his fingers through his hair with a nervous swipe. Clarke was shocked by his sudden agitation, amazed that he had been worried all along and yet kept it hidden.

"We slowed them down." Clarke offered feebly.

"It's been days!" he stressed, his anxiety tightening the lines of his face. "Every day that I wake up and they still aren't attacking us I feel like I'm in an airlock chamber on the ark, just waiting for them to push the button that will suck me out to space and float me. These last few days have been like living in an airlock. I'm just waiting. Waiting for them to push the button. To be floated." Murphy sighed wearily, some of the tension leaving him as he gathered himself and continued. "I don't think it's a bad idea." The genuine look of reassurance in his eyes was like a calming breath to Clarke. Her guilt slowly started to drain away as he continued. "I would rather that you and me were doing this together than you going alone, or worse with someone like Collins." He had changed so much from the tormenting teenage delinquent he had been when the 100 first landed. Clarke had to duck her head to hid a small smile. "But I'm still just waiting for a grounder attack." He finished tightly. Clarke nodded with understanding and a new found sense of determination.

"Then let's get going." She said as she stuffed their supplies back into the pack and stood. "We'll get this done and get back as quick as possible." Murphy gave her a tight smile. It wasn't his usual confident smirk, but he was trying, she realised.

"Lead the way Princess." He ushered Clarke back onto the path ahead of him with a bow and a wave of his arm.


They were almost at the bunker; Clarke was sure of it. For the last half hour she had been trying to get a good vantage point; climbing up onto boulders or walking to the top of the nearest hilly incline, hoping to catch a glimpse of the concrete structure. Their journey was still quiet and vigilant, but now they worked comfortably together as a team, taking turns to lead the way or to search their surroundings. They didn't talk but they still communicated with looks and nods and gestures, never letting the other out of their sight.

It's around here somewhere, Clarke thought distractedly as she turned in a slow circle, trying to decide if it would be best to start traversing to the west up the slop that was starting to rise in that direction. If she was right about their location then west was the wrong direction, but they were in the thick of the forest and the underbrush was too dense for her to properly see their surroundings. She needed an elevated view. So: climb to the top of a hill, in the wrong direction, to get a better view. Clarke groaned at the thought, she was exhausted, hungry and too hot. She glanced around, maybe she could get Murphy to give her a boost up one of these trees. That would surely be easier than more trekking. She stopped in the centre of a small clearing and looked up. A view from one of those branches might be good enough, she mused. Clarke turned behind her to tell Murphy, and found herself alone in the clearing.

She froze. Her body went rigid as a spark of fear crackled up her spine. Clarke listened, her ears straining to pick up any sound over the soft hum of life in the woods. Something rustled to her left. Clarke turned slowly, opening her mouth to call out when a rush of movement behind her caught her off guard. A tiny yelp of fear escaped her lips before a hand was pressed over her mouth and an arm wound around her waist, swiftly pulling her backwards out of the clearing and into a thick blanket of foliage. Her heart thundered in her chest, blood rushing furiously through her veins spreading fear and adrenaline through her system in seconds. Clarke helplessly stumbled backwards, and immediately started to struggle, drawing in a gulp of air through her nose as she readied a scream. She felt lips at her ear, she heard them hushing her on the breath of a shaky exhale, and her panic suddenly stalled. The hot breath at her ear; the feel of the firm but gentle hand over her mouth; the grip that was as much supporting her as it was restraining her; the smell, so familiar and comforting. It was Murphy.

She stilled against him. Letting herself sink further into the heat of his hold as her muscles went limp with relief. He dropped his hand from her mouth and reached for the gun hanging at his side, but the arm around her waist didn't move. She turned her head, titling her neck back to look up at him. Murphy still didn't release her from his hold, his eyes were steely and dangerous when they met hers, demanding silence and compliance. Clarke nodded. She waited, now keenly studying their surroundings for what had spooked Murphy. Seconds ticked by, her breathing and heart rate gradually returned to normal after her initial fright, only to jump furiously again when a figure appeared in the clearing. It was a man, moving swiftly and silently with a gun raised, poised to shoot. He came to a stop barely a few meters away from their hiding spot with his back to them and bent down to examine the ground – her footprints, Clarke realised in horror as she watched, peering out through the thick canopy of leaves. He stood, raising his gun again and turned in a slow circle to survey the clearing. Clarke jumped and pressed back against Murphy when the figure turned to face them. It was Justin. He seemed to stare right at her as his black eyes scanned over the bushes that concealed them. Murphy's arm tightened around her. They waited, holding their breaths until eventually Justin seemed to pick a direction and stalked off, heading west with his gun aimed in front of him.

Neither of them had moved. They stood, hidden amongst the bushes, Clarkes back leaning against Murphy's chest as they stared at the spot where Justin had sunk back in amongst the trees. Clarke was the first to break the silence. She spoke tentatively, voicing her confusion.

"The guns aren't for hunting." She said. "They're for emergencies. For the grounders. The knifes and spears are for hunting." She turned to face Murphy and his arm fell away from her waist. "So why is Justin stalking through the forest with his gun raised and ready?"

"Because I don't think he's hunting dinner." Murphy answered. Clarke's eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened.

"When he spoke to you earlier…" she trailed off, not sure how to word the thoughts swirling through her head.

"He warned me to watch my back." Murphy scoffed darkly, his anger at Justin's threat apparent as he glared in the direction Justin headed.

"Oh my God." Breathed Clarke, alarmed. Murphy released his grip on the gun, allowing it to hang more casually at his side and pulled their pack from his shoulder to offer Clarke some water.

"Come on." Murphy coaxed her gently "I spotted the bunker."

"You did?" she asked surprised.

"Yeah. It's this way." He jerked his head east. Clarke steeled herself, then squared her shoulder and with a final glance to their right she headed left at a marching pace.


They found seven guns and several boxes of ammunition. It wasn't a lot but the loot was enough to make both Clarke and Murphy grin from ear to ear with delight. Murphy carefully examined the guns, test firing each one against the far wall and removing all the blank rounds. Clarke sat on the concrete floor with her legs folded under her, leaning back against the cold wall as she ate chunks of meat and watched Murphy work. She felt light and giddy at their success. The extra guns would help, but the real prize, Murphy told her, was the ammunition. They had walls, they had land mines, they had guns and they had bullets. The 100 might just be able to defend themselves well enough to fend off the grounders.

As quickly as possible they readied their haul, carefully wrapping everything up and dividing the load between two sacks – one for each of them to carry. A little over an hour after they arrived they were stepping back out of the dank air of bunker into the fresh cool breeze of the woods.

"Murphy, do you think Justin's still out there?" Clarke asked.

"Where we saw him was pretty far out for the hunting group. He probably can't risk coming any further east, he needs to stay within range of the rest of the group." Murphy turned around, considering their surroundings. "I think if we go a bit south from here," he pointed towards a shallow valley were the trees were less dense, it was the opposite direction from which they had arrived at the bunker. "If we go south for say a mile or so and then head back in the direction of the camp, there should be a big enough gap between us and the hunting group. We'll be too far out of their range for him to cross into our path again, even if he's looking for us."

"Ok good." Clarke said, obviously relieved. Murphy smirked at her.

"You're carrying a sack full of guns Princess, what are you worried about?" he teased her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Come on, let's go home."

"Yes your majesty."


Their path through the valley was a much easier one than their route there had been, the trees were more spaced out and the shrubs and brush were nothing more than little clumps at the base of each tree. The made good time, marching at a quick pace until they had to alter their course back into the thick centre of the forest heading back towards camp.

The closer they got to camp the more excited and optimistic their mood became. The cation from the journey out had all but evaporated by the time they stopped for what they hoped to be their final water break. That was when it happened. They separated only for a minute, but it was enough, and for the second time in a matter of hours Clarke was grabbed from behind.

Her gasp was forcefully smothered mid-breath as a hand clamped down over her mouth. Her heart thundered in her chest. It wasn't Murphy. The hand was rough with callouses, the smell was sour, the grip was too rough. Fear prickled her skin. She was yanked to the side and around a wide tree, where she came face to face with Murphy. He stood there wide eyed, looking pale and shocked, and rooted to the spot. A wave of panic and dread engulfed Clarke. Blood roared in her ears as it raced from her heart. The world around her become muffled and sluggish, tinged by shock as her fear crippled her, tightening her chest and fogging her brain. There were shouts and commands - a blade was pressed against her throat, Murphy's gun was dropped to the ground. It all happened quicker than Clarke's panicked brain could process. The sight of two bear-like grounders forcing Murphy to his knees jolted Clarke out of her shock.

"No." she whispered, squirming against her captor. Murphy grunted in pain as his arms were pulled violently behind his back and bound. "No!" She said louder this time, twisting in the grip that held her. "Leave him alone." She yelled, tugging furiously, straining towards Murphy as one of the grounders raised his club to strike. Then everything went black.


Thanks to everyone who is reading.

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