Miss Me Princess?

Chapter Thirteen

They weren't as far away from camp as they had feared. Despite the darkness of the night and the hazards of the forest, they moved quickly and it wasn't long before they were in familiar territory, approaching the outskirts of the camp.

Clarke and Murphy heard the shouts go up as soon as they were within sight of the camp walls and they instantly slowed their pace, not wanting to scare one of the nightshift guards into shooting at them.

Warnings rang out. Voices raising the alarm: 'Two approaching!'. Calls echoed back and forth between the watchtowers along the wall as the lookouts spotted them. A tense caution was barked out to them through the darkness; not to come any closer: "We'll shoot!"

Clarke and Murphy peered up at the watch towers, holding their hands out wide in surrender and making their faces clearly visible as they gradually inched closer to the gate with cautious steps.

Then there was recognition.

"Wait." A voice called out hopefully as they approached the gate.

"It's Clarke and Murphy." Another voice rang out.

"Open the gate!" The order went out.


As soon as they were safely behind the camp walls the last bit of strength and energy drained out of them leaving them numb and exhausted. Clarke fell to her knees feeling weak and dazed. Murphy stood beside her, hunched forward with his hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Exhaustion gripped them both firmly in its claws as the fear and adrenaline fizzled out of their tired limbs leaving them both limp and shaking. Injuries that had been forgotten in their hasty escape started to throb with pain, joined also by sensations of hunger and tiredness.

Murphy and Clarke were both aware of the eyes watching them, staring down at them from their posts in stunned silence, but neither of them looked up, too weary to care what people saw or what they were thinking. Not many people were awake in the camp at this hour, just a shift of lookouts in each of the watchtowers and a set of guards at the gate. One of the guards who had opened the gate for them had immediately ran off into the camp, to get Bellamy Clarke assumed, she could hear him returning now, his hurried footsteps followed by several other sets of boots stamping quickly towards them.

"What the hell Clarke," Bellamy's voice carried across the camp as he made his way towards them. "I said be back by dark. It's almost morning!"

At the sound of Bellamy's angry reprimand Clarke and Murphy fought once again to muster some energy.

Murphy pushed away the remaining dregs of fear and determinedly ignored the pain thrumming through his body as he straightened up out of his crouch with a groan. Clarke took a deep breath and pushed back the rousing wave of shock and emotion that was threatening to crash over her, and with another steadying breath she climbed back up onto her feet. Their night wasn't over yet. They both turned to face Bellamy.

"Shit." Bellamy swore as he came to an abrupt halt in front of them, with Miller and Justin close on his heels. He took in their appearance: pale, filthy, and struggling to catch their breath. They were slumped with exhaustion, and marred by cuts and bruises and dirt. His gaze lingered on Clarke's blood drenched hands and sleeves, and on Murphy's bruised and swollen face. "What the hell happened?" Bellamy croaked out, his voice raw with shock.

"There's no time." Clarke shook her head and told him. "The grounders. They're coming tomorrow. A whole army of them."

"You saw them?"

"No. Anya told me."

"The grounder princess?" Bellamy questioned.

"It's a long story." Clarke sighed impatiently. "Anya said 'the Commander has summoned every clan for miles around'." Clarke repeated. "She said that 'tomorrow thousands of grounder warriors will go to battle…and your people will be destroyed'." Her voice quietly trailed off until she was saying the last statement under her breath, almost as though she were talking to herself, caught up in remembering her conversation with Anya and the fear and desperation that had followed her words.

Murphy reached out and squeezed her shoulder. A pale faced Miller cursed under his breath.

Bellamy swallowed. His face stony and grim.

"Ok." He said after a pause. "We're ready for this."

"Are we?" Miller asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes." Bellamy answered, sounding determined now.

"Good." Clarke said, reassured by Bellamy's confidence. "We can do this." Bellamy nodded in agreement.

"We have defences. We have a plan." He said.

"We have more guns and ammo." Added Murphy pulling the two sacks from the bunker off of his back and dropping them to the ground in front of them.

"You did it." Bellamy stared at them stunned.

"There's not a lot." Murphy muttered, looking away from the impressed stares of Miller and Bellamy and bending to pull the sacks open. "We only got six more guns, but there's loads of boxes of-"

"Stop right there!" A cold voice cut across him. Murphy froze, his hands holding open the canvas to revel its contents. "Don't touch anything." Justin stood with his gun aimed directly at Murphy's head. Clarke went rigid. Miller reached for his gun.

"Justin." Bellamy barked out in warning. "What-"

But he was drowned out by Clarke.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed.

Bellamy saw the colour come back into her pale face as her anger flared, filling her with new energy.

"Put that down." She sternly ordered Justin, taking a step towards him. Bellamy watched in confusion as Justin's cold black eyes left Murphy, snapping to look at Clarke with the same deadly intent. His gun moved slightly. Bellamy saw Murphy tense as he watched Justin closely.

"Easy Clarke." Murphy said softly his eyes still trained on Justin. He slowly released his hold on the sack which flopped shut at his feet and slowly straightened up. Standing as still as possible and still keeping his gaze fixed on Justin he slowly reached a hand out to his side grabbing a hold of Clarkes wrist and gently tugging her back again.

A crackle of tension filled the air as Justin stood facing Murphy and Clarke, staring them down with his gun aimed towards them, a sack of guns and ammunition laying between them.

Murphy felt Clarke trembling under his fingertips. His eyes darted quickly to the side to look at her. He didn't let go of her wrist, instead he moved his grip, letting the pad of his thumb brush across the soft skin on the underside of her wrist in an attempt to sooth her. His anger towards Justin increased. She was going to lose it again he realised, her control was slipping and he didn't want her to break in front of Justin and the other guards, he knew she wouldn't want that.

"This is ridiculous." Bellamy snapped, fed up of watching the strange standoff. "Put the damn gun down Justin."

"Ridiculous? I'm trying to protect us all." he shouted defiantly. "What happened the last time Murphy escaped from the grounders and returned to our camp?" he sneered venomously, his eyes fixed on Murphy. A lick of fear ghosted down Bellamy's spine as his eyes snap to Clarke and Murphy.

"What?" Clarke hissed, edging forward again only to be pulled back again, this time closer to Murphy's side. Her question was echoed by Miller and Bellamy and some of the guards near enough to hear them, only theirs sounded more confused and wary. Bellamy noticed with unease the looks of suspicion now being directed towards Clarke and Murphy.

"I'm not sick." Murphy ground out through clenched teeth. "I barely saw a grounder long enough to be infected. We were just tied up in a room. Then we escaped." It wasn't the whole truth, and Murphy didn't want to be explaining any of this to Justin. But if they weren't careful about this, things could get out of hand.

"Really?" Justin sneered. "And what about her?" he asked, turning to face Clarke with his gun still raised, the barrel now migrating from its position trained on Murphy to slide towards Clarke.

"She's not sick either." Murphy snapped taking an angry step forward. Bellamy watched on stunned and confused, his eyes following the exchange back and forth. He was used to the animosity vibrating out of Murphy, he had always been angry and aggressive, but there was something else there in Murphy's tense shoulders and ferocious glare that confused Bellamy, something distinctly protective. He still had a hold of Clarke's wrist, and she stood close to his side as they faced Justin with matching scowls. He noted the searing anger in Clarke's stare which was almost as severe as the intense cold hatred pouring from Murphy. Murphy might be quick to anger but it seemed his aggression was matched by Clarke's own fury, and while she loved to argue with anyone in sight Bellamy knew that it took a lot to get the Princess so heatedly angry. Bellamy realised that there was much more going on than he was aware of. He glanced quickly to Miller and saw him anxiously gripping his gun as he watched, looking just as confused and concerned as he was.

"We're just supposed to believe you?" Justin sneered. "Why should we take the risk of half the camp getting sick, with an army of grounders heading this way?" Bellamy heard a murmur of doubt whispering through the onlookers. He shifted his weight impatiently as the air seemed to thicken with an electric tension. Something had to be done, now. It seemed that Murphy felt the same sense of urgency. He suddenly moved, advancing furiously towards Justin, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his chest as he prowled forward.

"Listen, you son-of-a-"

But the instant his hand had released its hold on Clarke's wrist she had reached out with her hand and grabbed a hold of him.

"Murphy don't." she muttered to him, both of her smaller hands grasping onto his larger one and pulling sharply. He stopped, the venomous words paused in his throat, his icy glare still pinned on Justin. Justin had raised his gun higher, his finger quivering over the trigger as his chest rapidly rose and fell.

Everyone seemed to freeze, watching and waiting. Waiting for what, Bellamy wasn't sure…for the crack of Justin's gun, for the smack of Murphy's fist…? Everyone stood motionless, barely breathing as they watched Clarke attempting to reign in Murphy's furry with little more than a touch of her hand and a whisper of words.

"He's-" Murphy started to protest in a low growl but Clarke spoke over him again.

"I know." she quickly assured him, keeping a tight hold on his hand. Murphy's eyes darted away from Justin to look at her and his anger lagged slightly when his stormy grey eyes locked with her blue ones. There was a pleading look in her eyes and he could still feel her trembling as her hands clutched his. The events of the night were catching up with her and her mask was cracking. She needed this night to be over, they both did. But he hesitated, not able to do nothing.

"He followed us through the forest with a gun at the ready." He reminded her in a low murmur that no one else could hear.

"I know." She agreed. "But even although he's the one holding the gun right now, to them, we seem like the bigger threat." She whispered to him, her eyes darting to look at Justin and then Bellamy, and Miller, and the few gathered onlookers. They all looked anxious and apprehensive. "He's trying to manipulate you, so if you fight him now it makes you the bad guy. Let it go." She begged quietly, desperate to put an end to it. "For now." She added, when he tensed, sensing his reluctance and lingering anger. "You can beat the crap out of him next time." He stared at her a moment, considering, then seeing the sincerity in her eyes he relented with a curt nod of his head. He returned his gaze to Justin with a dark and menacing glare, but his clenched muscles uncoiled. Some of the tension eased out of Clarke as Murphy's rigid posture loosened slightly. Justin narrowed his eyes suspiciously looking back and forth between the pair.

"Fine." Murphy spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. There was a ripple of hesitation and Justin noticeable faltered, not sure what Murphy was agreeing to. Was that his answer to Justin's accusations, or was that a response to his whispered conversation with the Princess?

As the pause of hesitation held the crackle of tension that had been building began to slacken. The guards watching along the perimeter began to shuffle as the moment deescalated. Having watched Clarke successfully talk Murphy back down off of the precipice of violence, Bellamy sensed his chance and quickly stepped in to take control.

"Clarke, Murphy, go to the dropship; you're under quarantine, as a precaution." He spoke firmly. "Justin hand over your gun, now." Bellamy ordered. "Everyone else: back to your posts. Miller it's time to double the guards. Gather a group and meet me at the ammunition tent. Let's go everyone!"


"You know we don't need to be quarantined." Clarke muttered angrily to Bellamy as he came to stand beside them once everyone else moved away.

"You might not be infected. But if you don't want the camp to turn on you then you need to be quarantined."

"Bellamy the grounders-"

"We've been waiting for this Clarke. We knew it was coming. We've made preparations, we have plans."

"I know that. But we can't help if you shut us up in the dropship."

"You'll help. Just not right now." He told her firmly. "It's the middle of the night Clarke. You both need to wash and rest. Go fix yourselves up, eat, and get some sleep." Seeing that she was about to protest he spoke more gently, as he assured her. "Nothing is going to happen in the next couple of hours."

Clarke's exhaustion returned to her then. Her anger was gone, her fight faded and in its place was shock and pain and fear. Clarke's shoulder slumped as she breathed a shuddering sigh, suddenly wilting under the weight of the night's events. Bellamy's eyes slid to Murphy and they exchanged a look that Clarke didn't have the energy to figure out.

"You both look like shit. Rest. We'll get you when it's time." Bellamy said. Clarke nodded and Murphy stepped up to her side, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on Princess, after the night we've had I'm not going to say no to a warm bed in the dropship. And some food, we did miss dinner after all."

She relented, letting him lead her easily towards the dropship. The feel of Murphy's arm around her was like a soothing bam. She could feel the emotions she had been burying gradually jagging and pocking through her crumbling wall as flashes of the last several hours hurtled through her weary mind. She turned her body into Murphy's side as they walked, her own arm wrapping around his waist and clutching a handful of his jacket as she sunk against him, letting some of her weight rest against him.


Sorry for the delay, I got a bit stuck. Thanks for reading

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