Murphy found little ways to make the bad days less bad. Thunderstorms that made her panic? Take her outside and let her dance in the rain. Looking for that damned lever? He still had that broken remote and its red button of happiness. Nightmares? He rubbed her back and sang off key but soft and low, soothing her back to sleep. Seeing the ghosts of her victims? Watch the Princess Bride or Stephen's Universe for hours if it's a really bad day. Dipped her head in dirt? Mud fight it was, followed by a long shower. Buried herself in the sand? Make her part of a sand castle, again followed by a long shower. Food smeared on her face? Food fight, followed yet again by a long shower. A lot of his solutions required a shower, but he refused to take advantage of her.
Her hair swept her jawline in the front and hit her shoulders in the back. Since he made sure she showered, and he washed and brushed her hair for her, there were no more matting issues. And Murphy couldn't believe she'd been here that long.
He was screwing around on the computer and found some interesting articles from before the war about art therapy and schizophrenics. He knew she liked to draw, having found some of her drawings back in the early drop ship days. He hadn't been able to put her mind back together but maybe getting into art again would help her where he could never dream.
John searched the entire bunker and found some pens that were long dried out and pencils that with no tips. It took him hours and using a vegetable peeler in an unorthodox fashion, but he got the pencils sharp. There was paper in the printer so he got that and set the supplies on the coffee table where she was sure to find them.
When she woke up from her nap, he watched her walk around the lighthouse a few times before flopping on the couch. "Take me to the top again?"
He figured she was restless and art was too sedate for her mood. So he smiled. "As you wish."
She handed him the blindfold he used to help make sure that she never found her way up there by herself. He feared she'd fall or worse, jump.
Blindfold firmly in place, he led her through an unnecessary maze and finally up to the balcony outside the light. He took the blinder off. "Tada!"
Her smile was sad but breathtaking, and the colors the sun made in the water were always stunning. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against him. He heard her take that deep breath that meant clarity and seriousness. "John?"
"Yes."
"I know I've been scattered since before I ended up here, but you've taken care of me and did nothing… untoward. I don't want to call it sweet because you'd disagree, but it's something like sweet that's more hardcore and fit for the sarcasm king. Thank you." She wrapped his arms around her waist. "I want to do something for you too though."
"Just tell me how you got the sea monster to whimper away."
She laughed. "I poked its eye out."
"With what? You didn't even have an oar."
She raised her forefinger. "Gross, I know."
"I was thinking more impressive than anything. And you think I'm hardcore? I should take notes." Murphy frowned when he realized he went too far and stuck his foot in his mouth.
Clarke didn't pull away though. "I saw the paper and pencils. And I appreciate the effort, but I'm not that girl anymore. I shouldn't sully what she was by bastardizing her art now."
He kissed the back of her head. "I understand." He didn't, but he wanted to. Lightning split the sky far over the water, followed by a thunderclap and some sprinkles. "Want to go down to the beach and dance?"
"No. I think I want to stay right here." She lifted one of his hands and kissed it for no other reason than she wanted him to feel cared for too.
He smiled resting his jaw on her shoulder. The rain got heavier, and they stood there wrapped together unphased. They were soaked through in no time and lightning and thunder got closer and closer, and still they didn't want to break the moment.
It was night by the time the sky cleared. When she shivered, he suggested they go back inside. After her nod, he secured her eyes behind the blindfold again. He was afraid she'd object every time they did this, but she never did. He opened the door, and then looked back at the beach. A person shaped shadow stood below them, with a droid circling their head.
He took her inside and double checked that the door to the outside was locked and whoever was out there couldn't get in. That didn't stop them from finding the door and knocking.
Clarke looked from the direction of the door to John and back again. "Any ideas?"
"A couple and none of them good."
"The light in the front stairs is on. They either know someone's here or will break the door down looking for shelter." Then she started to sing Shelter from the Storm, signaling her return to insane random girl. Normally he didn't mind, and sometimes even enjoyed her non sequiturs but this time was not one of those. Her singing got louder and so did the knocking. Finally he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out one of the steak knives, hiding it behind his back as he flipped the lock. When the door opened, Thelonious stood there drenched, but calm.
"I'm glad you found shelter, John. Who else is here?" Clarke was still singing though softer now so Murphy couldn't lie.
"Clarke."
"She made it here? Why? Are things bad at camp?" Jaha asked as he tried to get past Murphy.
"Look, Clarke's a bit delicate and I don't know how she'd take company. So if you don't mind…" He threw a hand out toward the beach.
"Clarke's been like family since she was born. Let me see her, John." He tried again to get past Murphy with no luck.
Clarke wasn't cooperating though. Her singing had stopped and her chin was suddenly on his shoulder. "Come back inside, Johnny. It's cold and I need you to warm my feet again." It was like Jaha wasn't even there.
"Clarke?" Thelonious asked as though he didn't recognize her. "Clarke."
Clarke finally laid eyes on him and screamed. John took the momentary shock to push Jaha all the way out, locking the door once more. But now Jaha was pounding on the door, screaming that he needed to see Clarke. He insisted that Clarke needed him and that Murphy did too.
Clarke picked up a chair and put it in front of the door. When she realized that it wouldn't help anything, she looked at the billiards table and tried to drag it in front of the door. Murphy helped and together they successfully barricaded the door.
They sat on the floor on the other side while Murphy rubbed her icy arms. "You know he's not going to stop. Or at least not permanently. He'll leave and come back. And he'll keep coming back. Once he gets something in his head, he'll kill anyone and anything that gets in his way."
A single desolate tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want to see him. It's his fault Wells is dead and he'll blame me for not keeping his son safe. I can't bear that too."
John cupped her face in his hands. "I want him to go away too, but he won't go anywhere until he sees you. But it'll be OK. I'll be right next to you, holding your damn hand if I need to. You'll be safe. I promise." He realized she might not consider him safe enough given his history.
"You can't let go of me. You can't let him bury me in lies. And you can't let him take me away. I know what they do to people like me. Don't let him do that."
"If I fail, you can always poke his eye out. That'll get him to leave, I'm sure of it." Murphy's grin was malevolent.
Clarke giggled and nodded. "Deal."
They pulled the pool table away from the door and opened it.