Finally - an update. I am really sorry that it has been so long. I can assure you all that I will definitely be finishing this story, I already know where it's going I just got a bit stuck on how I was going to get there. I hope there are still some of you out there who want to keep reading this. This chapter feels a bit rusty but this is me brushing off the cobwebs, so I would really like to hear what you think (advice/suggestions/comments are all welcome). A gigantic THANK YOU to my reviewers, it was you who pulled me through the writers block. So, without further a do...

Miss Me Princess?

Chapter Sixteen

Clarke wasn't sure whether it was the effects of coming out of the strange coma they had kept her in, and whatever drugs they must have used to do it; or if it was the result of the tumultuous emotions of being alive, and safe, and back with her friends, which overwhelmed her. But either way, she had very little memory of what happened after she ran into Murphy's arms. She knew that some time had passed since then, and she realised that at some point she must have fallen asleep. They had also relocated since then, because the last thing she remembered was being in the middle of the room surrounded by people, and now they were lying on a bed and completely alone. But she was still - she realised with a smile - in Murphy's arms.

Clarke yawned and stretched languidly, a small part of her brain registering that she was clinging to Murphy just as tightly as he was wrapped around her, their bodies pressed closely together in what could only be described as an intimate embrace. Clarke blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and saw that they were sprawled out on the bottom bed of the bunk at the furthest end of the large room. She was leaning against Murphy's chest, her arms wrapped around his torso and one of her legs hooked over his. For a fleeting second Clarke considered feeling awkward or embarrassed when she thought about how she had flung herself at Murphy; what if he didn't like how clingy she was being? Then she registered the feeling of Murphy's fingers stroking languidly through her hair and her chest swelled with a feeling of fuzzy warmth. She allowed herself to relish the feeling of total relaxation and noted that for the first time in a very long time she felt completely content. As her mind slowly started to resurface from its slumber Clarke allowed herself to burrow closer into Murphy's body heat, absently wondering where everyone else had gone. With a small sigh, she revelled in the feel of the soft mattress and the sense of total calm surrounding her.

Clarke shifted her position enough to tilt her head back and look up at Murphy. His hand stilled in her hair but he didn't pull it away as his grey eyes met hers. They stared at each other, their gaze's intent, eyes searching thoroughly with a connection that was even more intimate than the way their bodies lay pressed together. She let herself fall into the depth of those grey eyes as they lay there gazing at each other. Those eyes which used to be filled with such anger and bitterness now stared at her with warmth and affection. Things had changed so much between them in the last several weeks. When Murphy was thrown back into her life Clarke had been gripped by an overwhelming guilt. Her heart had ached for him. She had recognised the pain and loneliness in him as though it was a reflection of herself, it called out to her and she'd responded to it the only way she knew how: with kindness and care and an offer of friendship. It had been the best decision she ever made.

Reaching out to and connecting with Finn had been the worse decision she had ever made; it had left her feeling bitter and broken. The pain of that betrayal and the thought of it happening again, of making herself vulnerable like that again, had almost made her harden her heart. But at just the right moment John Murphy tumbled back into her life, broken and beaten and in desperate need of help. She had saved him that night, but he had also saved her by preventing her from completely closing off her heart. Murphy was still mean and sullen and sharp tonged, but she knew she could rely on him, she knew he was on her side. Clarke thought about him looking after her when she got sick, of him watching her back as they trekked through the forest, she remembered the reassurance she took from his presence when they were kidnapped, his solid strength, his support, his non-judgmental acceptance of her killing to help them escape. Their lives had been chaos these last few weeks but she had got through it all because she knew she had Murphy by her side. They had grown so close so quickly, he had become so important to her, and she hadn't let herself acknowledge that fact until the grounders were charging at their walls. Then he had kissed her. A stolen kiss at the height of an adrenaline-charged situation. Clarke wanted to communicate her feelings about that kiss. She wanted to tell him and show him all that she was thinking and feeling.

Clarke slowly tipped her face up towards Murphy's and watched as his eye darkened. The sudden expression of longing on his face made something flutter in her stomach as she leaned closer. She could feel his heart pounding under the palm of her hand where it rested against his chest. Her nose brushed against his and Murphy exhaled sharply, the heat of his breath tingling over her lips. Her lips parted, her tongue slipping out to wet her bottom lip. Murphy's gaze dropped, watching the motion. He leaned towards her, removing the last breath of space between them, and Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as their lips pressed together.

Their mouths moved together in a slow and steady rhythm. Clarke hummed at the feel of his lips, warm and soft against her own. Murphy's hands slid to Clarke's waist, holding her against him as he teased at her lips, parting them. She melted against him as their kiss deepened. Her tongue glided past his lips to taste him and Clarke felt the vibration of his groan as it rumbled at the back of his throat. His grip tightened on her waist and Clarke sighed into his mouth, gliding her hands up his warm chest to grip his shoulders.

The kiss was a slow exploration. It stretched on for several long minutes, gentle and unhurried. They parted, but didn't pull away from each other, their lips hovering an inch apart as they drew in long breaths of air. Murphy's heart was racing as he looked down at Clarke and a zing of satisfaction shot through his stomach at the sight of her red and swollen lips. Her eyes were still closed and a small frown creased her brow as she leaned towards him again, tilting her face to press her forehead against his. His own eyes fell closed as he pulled in a long breath and lost himself in her scent.

"I thought you were dead." Clarke whispered into the silence, her voice thick with emotion. Murphy tensed at the sound. She leaned back slightly to look at him, and Murphy saw pain flashing sharply through her blue eyes. "You weren't in the drop ship." She said quietly. "I thought…" her voice quivered. "How…?" she faltered and swallowed hard. "I thought you were dead." Her eyes dropped away from his. Murphy brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly over her skin as he hesitantly leaned in and placed a soothing kiss against her lips. The kiss was a tender, feather light touch that made her stomach flip. Clarke blew out a calming breath and returned her eyes to meet Murphy's warm gaze. He wrapped his arm around her back and squeezed her against him.

"When we started to retreat, back to the dropship, some of us were providing cover fire; holding back the Grounders to give everyone enough time to get inside." He started to explain. "But then another section of the wall collapsed. It was off to the side, east of the gate. They were coming in from both sides then." He swallowed thickly, remembering the terror that had washed over him. "Me and Bellamy got cut off from the rest. We knew we didn't have much time until the blast and there were too many to fight through. We knew it was impossible for us to get to the dropship, and even if we could have made it in time we would just have been bringing a swarm of grounders with us. So we ran." Clarke watched him intently as he continued. "We shot every grounder in our path, and we kept running until the blast finally came and knocked us off our feet. I remember waking up: I had a killer headache and couldn't hear anything but ringing in my ears. I couldn't stand. I was bleeding somewhere. I saw Bellamy's leg sticking out from under some bushes off to the side but before I could get to him a guy in a white spacesuit appeared through the smoke and he was pointing a gun at me. That's the last thing I remember." He wasn't looking at her anymore, his head was dipped down away from her.

"I'm glad you're ok Murphy." She whispered softly. He didn't answer, didn't look up, just swallowed down the lump in his throat.

A silence settled around them as they lay there lost in thought, arms wrapped tightly around each other.


They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other. With a wide yawn Clarke eventually broke the silence to speak.

"Murphy?" She said.

"Mmm?" he wordlessly answered.

"Is this your bed?" She asked suddenly. A startled laugh broke out of Murphy. Then and a blush spread quickly across his cheeks. She felt him tense and then shift uncomfortable beside her. He coughed.

"Uh yes." He answered, fidgeting with his t-shirt as he watched her uncertainly, as though he expected her to be unhappy about that.

"Well it's definitely better than my tent." She grinned, shifting her position and wriggling a little to test the comfort of the mattress. Then she propped herself up on her elbows and caste her gaze around them, taking in the other bunks and the rest of the large dorm room.

"Where is everyone?" she asked turning back to him.

"Having dinner." He answered, pushing himself up to sit up against the metal rail at the head of the bed, nodding towards the double doors at the middle of the dorm.

"You didn't go?" Clarke asked sitting up also.

"I, ehh…" a faint blush coloured his skin again "I didn't want you to wake up alone."

The discomfort he felt at admitting that to her was quickly evaporated by the brilliant smile she gave him. Her eyes sparkled happily at him as she leaned forward to press a quick peck against his lips "That's sweet John Murphy!" she teased.

"Shut up Princess." He gritted out. But there was something almost smug in the small curve at the corner of his mouth that made Clarke grin back at him. She crawled up the bed to sit beside him.

The drowsiness, Clarke noticed, had completely gone and her mind was now able to think quicker. Her thoughts began to churn, and she began to process the details of their situation: they were alive; and together; they had survived the grounder attack; and they were now somewhere safe. That was more than she had dared to hope for in a very long time. But she wouldn't let herself be fooled by their good luck, her instincts told her to be cautious. Now more than ever she needed to keep her people safe. That prospect turned her insides cold. Her expression shuttered and instinct had her instantly pulling up mental walls to block out the permeating cold of her doubt. They had been lucky, Clarke realised. But they didn't know enough about their 'saviours' from Mount Weather. Clarke needed to make sure her people were safe.

"What's it like here?" Clarke asked Murphy.

Murphy watched the change in her as Clarke brooded on their future. The time for relaxing and basking in the joy of being reunited was over, he realised. Murphy saw the resignation and the determination that passed over her face while she thought, and as her spine straightened imperceptibly he instantly recognised her demeanour – Clarke was stepping back into the role of leader.

"What all have I missed?" She asked.

Murphy knew that being their leader was a duty that Clare carried on her shoulders like a heavy burden; she hated the power, but she felt a keen sense of responsible for them all. She wanted to look after everyone. Clarke was too good, too righteous for her own good. Murphy had never had that problem, after his father's death no one had ever looked out for him except himself. He was more than happy to be selfish and think only of himself.

"Tell me everything." She finished. Murphy's heart clenched at the tightness in her tone of voice, it was almost pleading. She couldn't do this alone.

She was too god for him. He didn't deserve her. But she also needed him. She didn't like being in charge, she felt the strain of her burden, it weighed down heavily on her and her worries and doubts ate at her insides like a cancer. So as they sat there, and Clarke decided she would continue to protect the 100, Murphy made the decision to be the one to protect her.

The others had started to return from dinner and the dorm grew steadily busier and noisier around them, but Clarke and Murphy stayed where they were, tucked into the far corner of the dorm sitting close together on the bed and talking quietly until they fell asleep, Clarke's head on Murphy's chest and Murphy's arm draped around her.


What were the people in Mount Weather like?

What did they want with the 100?

Where were they all?

These questions had started looping through Clarke's head soon after she woke up and realised that the two doors leading out of the dormitory: the doors at the end of the dormitory where she had entered through from the long white corridor and the doors in the middle of the dormitory where the others had gone for dinner; were both locked. Why would they lock them in? Suspicion crept uncomfortably along her spine.

"Murphy." She hissed in his ear, shaking his shoulder roughly to wake him.

"What?" he groaned trying to shrug off her hand. Clarke tightened her grip and Murphy opened his eyes to look at her "What's wrong?"

"The doors," she whispered "They're locked."

"Oh. Yeah." He lay his head back down and closed his eyes. "They always are."

"What? But…why?" she asked.

"Don't know." He kept his eyes closed as he answered her, trying to hold stubbornly on to sleep. "They ring a bell for meals three times a day and the doors on that side are unlocked then, but as soon as the last person leaves they're locked again."

"And the other doors?" Murphy heard the tinge of fear in her voice and opened his eyes to look at her. With a sigh he sat up, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"They only open when the old witch brings someone new in." He told her "Or when the guard takes someone for their 'official welcome' with President Wallace." He drawled sarcastically.

"So they're keeping us locked in," She whispered softly, "like…"

"Prisoners." Murphy finished for her in a low tone. "Yeah." Clarke frowned at him.

"Doesn't that bother you?" She asked. Murphy frowned and shrugged one shoulder.

"I don't know if anyone else even thinks of it like that. They've healed us, and clothed us. They've given us somewhere safe and warm and dry to stay. Besides we've all been prisoners before, remember. And this is a lot better than the skybox: the beds are comfortable; the showers are hot and the food is good."

"So that makes it ok?" Clarkes eyes stared at him wide with panic. "It's better here than what we left so it doesn't matter that we're prisoners?"

"No of course not." He shook his head, frowning. "I'm just saying a lot of people are happy to be here. They're grateful."

"I'm not asking what everyone else things. I'm asking what you think."

"I don't like it. But…" Murphy hesitated, thinking how best to explain the gut feeling he had. "I think we should wait and see what happens." He explained. Clarkes forehead creased in confusion.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I don't think this is their plan. Why bring us here just to keep us as prisoners? I think this is just a stage in whatever they're planning. The doors are locked, but they haven't treated us like prisoners, and the way Wallace talks… I don't know. It's just a feeling. Wait until you meet him."

"Wallace. He's the president?"

"Yeah that's what he calls himself. Just another weird thing about this place."

"So you don't think we're prisoners, but you don't trust them either?"

"Hell no."

"You think they have a plan for us." Clarke repeated as she thought it over. Murphy shrugged again. "So maybe they're waiting for something." Clarke continued, her mind churning through countless possibilities. "This could be like some sort of quarantine."

Murphy nodded then looked pointedly at the control panel next to the door and added.

"Or observation." Clarkes head snapped to look at the panel, her eyes sliding over the keypad and zeroing in on the small pane of glass above it and the glint of the circular lens behind it. A camera.

"Oh my God." Clarke breathed out, turning away again quickly and looking back at murphy with wide eyes. "They're watching us." Murphy nodded. He had realised that early on but he wasn't sure how many of the others had noticed the three cameras – watching them from the control panels at each of the doors – or if they even cared.

"We've been in worse places." He said in a low voice, trying to reassure Clarke "Let's just wait and see what happens next."

She nodded in agreement but the shadow of worry still lingered on her face.


Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think...