Disclaimer: As always, The 100 is not mine.
Warning: If you're a Finn lover, this probably won't be your favorite chapter.
It was the day of Finn's funeral.
A month had passed since his death, but while they had buried the body weeks ago, there had been no formal service performed. This was partly because of the anger that the people of the ark still harbored for him over putting them all in danger, and partly because there just had been a lot going on.
The funeral would take place in the grassy area right before the gates. Chairs had been set up in neat rows, the order contradicting the mismatched furniture. Almost all of the original hundred had already arrived, and without calling attention to himself, he sat down in a seat in the very last row. The seat next to him was vacant, and he knew it would stay that way.
Bellamy and Clarke stood at the front, conversing between them. He had a hand on the small of her back, and her face was turned away from the prying eyes of the people seated. If Murphy could guess what was going on, it would be that the princess was crying and the king was comforting her. And of course she would be crying, I mean she killed the guy. Who attends the funeral of someone they killed?
But of course, he knew Finn was not just any "someone". He was Finn. If Clarke was the princess, he was definitely the prince. He was the "voice of reason", the peacemaker… Who after a series of unfortunate events caused by the love of a woman murdered an entire village.
Yep, he was a keeper
Murphy knew he should feel bad thinking these things, but the truth is he didn't care. He was angry. He was pissed actually, that at the end of the day, Finn would be forever remembered as a martyr—A victim in that terrible situation he had found himself in. But Murphy knew better. He had seen the look in his eyes when he burned down that village's food storage, when he pulled the trigger and killed women, children, elders.
There are some lines you can't uncross, and Finn Collins had crossed all of them and tried to turn back.
To be honest he didn't even want to come to the funeral. The only reason he showed up was for Raven.
Speaking of Raven, where was she? He lifted himself up on his chair slightly to see if she was sitting somewhere up in the front, but she wasn't there. The sun was setting so he didn't think she would still be in radio room pretending to take it easy—she was still recovering from the Grounders. If she wasn't here, shit… He wasn't going to stay.
He got up just as Bellamy started addressing the crowd, and he was glad he wouldn't have to stay through. Already the opening remarks had given him a headache.
He made his way to his tent. The camp was quiet, probably out of respect for the funeral that he had just walked out on, and he found himself enjoying the peace for once. He took a deep breath as he opened the flap of his tent, making a note to patch a rather large hole that he could have sworn wasn't there yesterday. He dug around his meager belongings until he found what he was looking for.
He grabbed the bottle and tucked it in his jacket, hoping no one would see what he was carrying. He figured he would need the whole contents of the bottle tonight.
As he suspected, Raven was in her tent. He heard faint crying as he approached, and not wanting to deal with female waterworks, he made sure to clear his throat loudly so that she would hear him.
"Who's there?" She asked, her voice cracking.
He peeked his head through the tent, and she quickly dried her face with the backs of her hands.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Brought you something." He said pulling out the bottle of whiskey from his jacket and coming inside the tent.
"Where'd you get it?" she pulled herself onto her cot, and Murphy took a seat in the ground in front of her, resting his back on a metal crate she was using as a nightstand.
"Found it." he unscrewed the cap and took a long swig, barely wincing as the burning liquid traveled down his throat. He held it out to her.
"You don't talk to me for a week and then you offer me liquor?" She exhaled loudly, taking the bottle from him. "You're so bipolar."
He ignored her comment, watching how she took a sip from the whiskey, face contorting in regards to the bitter taste.
"God, this is gross." She took another sip, this one longer.
"It's just what the doctor ordered." He smirked briefly, but then quickly got serious again. "Why aren't you at the funeral?"
"None of your business." she handed the bottle back to him.
He lifted it up to his lips and drank.
"So is this your way of making me feel better? Getting me drunk?" She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands which were balanced on her knees.
"No better way to feel better. That is… until tomorrow. If we do this right, we'll both feel like shit."
And so they drank. Raven more so than Murphy. When the bottle was a little less than half gone, Raven decided she wasn't in the sharing mood. It made him smile in amusement as Raven got more hammered progressively through the night. He found out she was a lightweight, it only took her a couple swigs of whiskey until her eyes were glazed and her words slurred.
What he found he enjoyed more though was her apparent lack of a filter.
"Finn fucked me over, you know?" She stumbled around her tent, taking periodical sips of the nearly empty bottle in her hand.
"Did he now?" He spurred her on. He was still on the floor, not drunk, but pleasantly buzzed.
"Yeah, he did. He only waited 10 days to screw someone else. And you know what I have to say that?" She hiccupped. "Fuck him. And fuck Clarke for fucking him. And fuck everyone else who pretends like the fact that I wasn't here makes it okay. But you know what?" She raised up to bottle up to her lips.
"What?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but laughed instead. "I forgot."
Raven knelt on the ground next to him, and he instinctively inched away to put space between them. She didn't seem to notice.
"Do you think Clarke is prettier than me?" She pouted, her head resting on Octavia's cot.
"I think—"
"I mean her boobs are bigger." Raven interrupted him, looking thoughtfully into the roof of the tent. "Maybe if my boobs were as big as hers he wouldn't have left."
He wasn't exactly sure what to say to that, so he just stayed quiet. Probably better that way anyways.
"It's okay though. I would have left me too."
He watched her as she stood up on Octavia's cot. She tipped her head back and downed the rest of the contents of the bottle. With a flick of her wrist she tossed the bottle towards the entrance of the tent, shattering it into pieces.
"Oops." she laughed, and Murphy raised his eyebrows.
"Alright Raven, I think you should go to bed" He stood up from the ground with a grunt. "C'mon." He grabbed her by the waist and helped her down.
"No, don't touch me." She tried to wiggle away from him.
"It's bedtime Raven."
"Do you think Monty has moonshine? The night is still young." She started to exit the tent, glass crunching under boots.
"I think that's enough for one night." He turned her around by the shoulders, walking her to her bed.
Murphy sat her down on the edge of the bed, and slowly began unlacing her boots, all the while inwardly rolling his eyes at Raven's sounds of complaints.
"I don't want to go to bed." she whined.
"Sometimes we do things we don't want to do." He pushed her back and to his relief she started getting under the fur covers.
Once he was satisfied she wasn't going to get out of bed, he grabbed his knife from his boot and started to sweep the glass shards from the entry of the tent. He had no idea how she managed to drop the bottle in the exact place one of the rocks used to hold the tent upright was, but he just chalked it up to chance. He made sure all the pieces of glass were in a corner of the tent before putting his knife back in his boot.
He turned around to find Raven staring at him, eyes half-open.
"He was all I had. Now he's dead." she whispered.
Murphy watched as she turned onto her side, hands tucked underneath her head.
He heard mumbles of unintelligible words, and then silence. Her eyes drooped closed, and he took that as his cue to leave.
So yeah that happened. They do say drunk words are the truest words. I figured Raven would most likely harbor a lot of negative feelings for Finn after cheating on her. And I wanted an excuse to have Murphy and Raven get drunk together lol Also, the title of this piece comes from a really depressing country song by Brad Paisley, if you were wondering.
Hope you enjoyed, leave a review to let me know what you thought!
.xoxo