"You know what I did to get locked up. Tell me what you did." Clarke and Murphy had been staring at each other from either end of a pillow for over an hour.

He sighed. "My parents died. Dad got floated, mom drank herself to death. I was young. Ten maybe. I forget, but I got thrust on a person who just wanted the extra rations to trade for herb and shine. I got hungry, literal starving, so I stole a ration from the kitchen, and got caught."

She whispered her fingers over his face. "I'm sorry."

John laced his fingers through hers and kissed her knuckles. "Whatever else happened, at least we've got each other now, don't we?"

"We do."

"Shower?"

"Yes, please."

"Up for doing it on your own for a switch?"

"I think so." Clarke frowned.

"Don't forget to rinse the soap out of your hair." He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed, leaving the room wearing nothing but a pair of ratty sweat pants.

"You're not even trying to help her talk to the rest of us," Bellamy accused as soon as John left the bedroom.

"She's in the shower." Murphy didn't even look at Bell. He passed them by to make some powdered orange juice, thinking Clarke would like some.

"Did you hear what I said?" Bellamy spat towering over an unaffected Murphy.

"She's in the shower. Talk to me after she's done."

Abby eased Bellamy out of the way. "Have you tried to convince her that we're not her enemies?"

"Yeah." When Abby gave him that look, the same one he got from Clarke sometimes, he sighed. "Fine. She's constantly paranoid that no one will forgive her for killing children. Try quietly forgiving her for that and she might talk to you until she clouds over again. She's more lucid when she's calm. That can last anywhere from seconds to most of a day, depending on which way the wind blows in her head."

He went back to work, making powdered eggs and ignoring everyone. When he finished, and she wasn't out of the shower, he went to check on her. She was sitting on the shower floor, water off, crying about the blood pooling between her legs.

"It's your rag. We've dealt with this before. It'll stop for a little while and you can get dry, dressed, and put in that sponge thing. Did you wash your hair?" When she shook her head, he stripped and got in the shower with her. Turned the water on, tepid worked best for her, and washed her hair. This bar of soap was almost gone, but there was a closetful of them. When she was rinsed he figured that since he was already wet, he'd take his shower.

Clarke was scrubbing his back and hair when Abby came looking for them. "Shit. I forgot to lock the door."

"How could you take advantage of her when she's not well!"

Abby's shout startled Clarke, sending her into a tailspin. "No! I won't let you!" Clarke's yelling faded into whimpers. "John. John don't leave me. Don't let her."

Murphy left Clarke cowering in the shower while he got in Abby's face. "I don't give a shit that you pushed her out of your vag. I've been taking care of her for a long time now, and the only time she's ever been mad at me is because I refuse to fuck her. I love Clarke, but there's no way I'd ever have sex with her when half the time she doesn't know who she is, let alone what she feels."

"Don't you dare speak to me like that."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want because you need to get it through your head that she needs me more than you. Now shut the door on your way out. I have to calm her down again."

Abby was rooted to the spot with her indignation, so Murphy shoved her out the door then locked it.

Clean and dressed, Murphy held Clarke's gaze. "Neither of us are thrilled to have company, but they're here for a reason. We need to deal with Alie. So can you try extra hard to concentrate?"

"I'll do my best, but my stomach hurts."

"I promise to rub your belly later. But we need to get rid of Alie so we can get rid of the crowd in the living room." Murphy smirked when she nodded. "OK, let's do this."

Clarke opened the door, and they walked out hand in hand as usual. When she saw all their faces, she waved nervously, but John squeezed her hand in assurance.

"You need to know the details. The little things that make her that make her dangerous." Clarke wouldn't move past right outside the door. She stumbled over telling them about Alie's history with her maker, and her need to prove superiority. "Her brain and her power source are probably in different places. And and and she's a sneaky horcrux maker."

Murphy let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. "Clarke and I think she has at least one backup for each. And they could be anywhere."

Clarke lit up and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Get rid of the missile first, worry about her later."

"The missile's in her house. We figured that much out. But we can't just blow that place up if you want Jaha alive." Murphy saw that their audience was mixed on Jaha's survival. "Do we need to vote on that?"

Still smiling, Clarke said, "Ooh, a trial. We can have arguments for and against saving him. Like that movie we watched, John, where they put God on trial. Remember?"

"I do. But they probably don't."

"I could play it for them." Clarke dragged Murphy toward the movie collection, and he let her search because he didn't want her to slip off the edge again.

"Think up your arguments on why we should or should not risk the element of surprise by saving Thelonious Jaha."

Bellamy knelt next to Clarke. "What's the name of the movie? I'll help you find it."

"Found it!" She smiled at Murphy. Then Clarke played a scene where Jews in a concentration camp put God on trial. As it played most of the group was horrified at what Clarke found funny, or perhaps that she found any of it funny at all. Murphy knew that she wasn't laughing but was hysterical and upset, it was difficult for him to tell them apart when she first showed up. So he sat behind her and pulled her to his chest, rubbing one hand on her lower stomach. Clarke instantly calmed down.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Bellamy grit his teeth. Bonus.