In a place like this, it was hard to tell time. At least— for everyone but Clarke.

It had to have been a good several hours since she was injected with Raj's formula, and already she was noticing slight changes. Something inside of her could sense the sun was only an hour, maybe two, away from rising. The hallways that were once impossible to differentiate, were now slightly easier to tell apart, whether it was a scratch on a wall, or a stain on the floor… she noticed. Even her flashlight was becoming less and less of a necessity as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

She kept all this quiet, of course. Afraid she might worry Murphy and Wick, deciding only to tell them what happened, if she felt like she might become a danger. A sickening fear bubbled up inside of her. The idea that she may very well become one of those things, absolutely terrified her to her very core. She grabbed hold of Murphy's hand, searching for comfort. It must have surprised him because he stopped breathing for a moment, before intertwining his fingers with hers.

"You're cold." He said quietly. It had been the first time any of them had spoken in a while. They hadn't been chased or terrorized since the vent incident. It gave them enough time to go over in their heads what they had been through… who they had lost. Being attacked was almost preferable. At least it was a good distraction.

"Oh?"

She was about to say that his hand didn't feel warm, but remembered how cold she had been laying on that table, and crawling through that vent.

"You feeling okay?"

"We're currently trapped underneath a dessert wasteland in the middle of nowhere— our friends missing or dead. I think, in the grand scheme of things, I'm as far away from okay as one could be."

Clarke was almost able to make out his expression in the darkness. She opened her mouth to apologize, but, in an instance, a shiver crawled down her spine like a warning. She turned to look in front of her, and jumped backward, pulling Murphy with her. A face formed in the shadows, ugly and twisted. It's mouth was open, and before Clarke could utter a single sound, it screamed.

"Holy fuck!" Wick yelled, snapping around. The three of them were running in the opposite direction quicker than one would think possible. The thing chasing them was faster than the ones they'd been dealing with. Even it's feet hitting the ground sounded menacing. Clarke maneuvered them down hallways by pure instinct.

"Left!" She yelled, three times in a row before calling out right, and making sure she didn't let go of Murphy's hand. They ran for what felt like a long time, before coming to the end of a hallway, with a large, metal door.

"Help me with this." She held her flashlight in her mouth, and shun it on the wheel that controlled the latch on the door. Together her and Murphy were able to turn the wheel, and the second the door opened they ran inside whatever room it led to.

"Come on, Wick!" Clarke called, positioning herself behind the door so she could close it as soon as Wick was beside them.

"Wick?" Murphy's question hung in the air.

He was gone.

"I have to close it." Clarke didn't even recognize her own voice.

"But— "

She slammed the door, spinning the wheel, until it was no longer possible.

Murphy took a step back, at the sound of nails scratching on metal. Both him and Clarke turned to focus on one another, hoping that the noise would soon stop.

"They're all dead. Bellamy, Octavia, Monty, Lexa, Raven…. You know that don't you?" Murphy's words hung in the air between them. Clarke wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, remind him that if they're still alive that could mean that their friends were too… but she was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of consequences. Tired of feeling like all the lives they lost to day, had been her responsibility.

Besides, he was probably right.

"Fuck!" Murphy hissed, slamming his fist into the wall, ignoring the pain he caused himself. He couldn't look at Clarke. He couldn't watch her wipe away the tears that silently fell down her cheeks from his outburst. He had stayed calm before— held onto her when she cried, and he would do what he had to do, to get them the hell out of there. But for five seconds, he needed this. He needed a moment to be sad, to be angry, to be scared.

He jumped slightly when Clarke's hand rested on his shoulder. He wasn't use to anyone treating him the way she had started to. Not like he blamed anyone else, after all the shit he pulled. It's just— he had kind of forgotten what it felt like to be comforted, to have someone care about him. At least, he was beginning think she did.

"I'm sorry." She said, and it was clear by his expression that he didn't know what it was she was apologizing for.

"I didn't consider the fact that you lost them too."

He shook his head furiously, as more tears spilled down her face, and when she tried to look down to the floor, he lifted her chin with his thumb, and made her look at him.

"Don't you dare say sorry. Not to me. Not ever, alright? I don't deserve that." Suddenly, his mind filled with thoughts of all the other things he didn't deserve. They all focused around her.

"Murphy…"

"C'mon, Clarke. We both know it's true. There's no point of denying it."

"You saved my life. That means something to me." She was so god damn sweet, it was causing a tightness in his heart, which made him feel even worse, when he imagined what it would be like to kiss her. What the fuck, brain? Now was not the time, nor the place. (Lost in a damn nest filled with things that wanted to eat them, didn't exactly scream romantic.) But man, she looked so good, even when bruised and battered. It wasn't right.

In a moment of weakness, his gaze fell to her mouth, and he must have stared a second too long, because she noticed, and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. Well, damn. He hadn't been expecting that. Not after everything that had just happened.

Maybe it was the amount of time they had spent underground making her unable to think properly, or maybe it was the want— no need, to forget that her heart was long broken, and almost everyone she cared for was gone— taken from her far too soon, but when Murphy's fingers moved from her chin, to the back of her head and his mouth started towards hers— she didn't try to stop him. She almost welcomed it.

When he finally kissed her, it was a lot gentler than she thought it would be. Not that she had spent much time thinking about kissing him before this moment. It had usually been Bellamy who came to mind, just before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

But he was dead. He had to be.

She'd never know what it felt like to kiss him.

She mentally cursed herself, and focused in on Murphy's other hand and how it had found her waist, his finger tips slightly slipping beneath her shirt. When his teeth grazed her bottom lip, the mood kind of shifted and he was backing her up against the wall, peppering kisses along her jawline, until he moved to her neck where he bit, sucked and licked the most tender areas. She moaned, rolling her head back against the wall, a light throbbing growing between her legs. Who would have though Murphy, of all people, would have this kind of effect on her? She'd like to blame it on her emotions, and the fact that he was the only one here— but the way her body was responding to him told another story.

Suddenly, she felt almost numb— like she had nothing left in her to care anymore. She pushed him away, and he stumbled, eyes flickering up to meet hers, his thumb on his lip as he contemplated on what to say.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when she pulled off her shirt and tossed it on the ground. Slowly, she unzipped her pants and slid out of them— the air warm and sticky against her skin. There was a chance those things outside that door would get in and kill them on the spot. But hell— that'd be one way to go.

Murphy watched as she removed her clothes, and basked in the glory that was her body. From the light of his flashlight, he could tell it was covered in cuts and bruises, much like her face, and her stomach had a fair amount of dry blood on it— what he guessed was the result of trying to help him reach the window.

When she was in nothing but her underwear, she pushed him again, hard, this time throwing him off balance that he actually did fall backwards. He landed against the ground with a loud thud, sucking in a sharp breath, at the pain that went through his body like an electric shock. But all was forgotten, when Clarke climbed on top of him, straddling him like a fucking professional.

"Holy shit, Clarke." He breathed, as she removed her bra. Her hands traveled up his shirt until she was desperate enough to remove that too. Next went his belt, and she could already feel how hard he was, before pulling down his pants.

People were dead, her mind reminded her coldly. You'll never see Bellamy again. Sliding out of her underwear, she angles her hips just right, before lowering herself on top of him. He died, looking for you, and now you're fucking Murphy? She grinds up against him slowly at first, trying to relax and find the right rhythm. It's when he's fully inside of her, she throws her head back.

"Fuck." She moans, and it's possibly one of the hottest things he's ever heard, and when he sits up a little, one hand behind him for support, and the other pulling her towards him, he hits a spot that makes her bite down on her lip just to stop her from screaming out.

That's when she decides to speed up, and then the two of them were fucking the hell out of one another. It was the one moment her mind finally shut up— the one moment she didn't feel sad, or numb, or angry— she just felt an absurd amount of pleasure. Like every bad feeling she would have to live with from the moment they arrived here, had been temporarily transformed into a shameful amount of lust for one of the first people she had hated when Earth had become their home.

Now look at them.

"Oh my God— Murphy." Just hearing her say his name like that, almost sent him off the edge. He was so close, but he wanted to make sure she got hers first, wanted hear how she sounded when she finished, see the look on her face, feeling her tighten around him.

"That was…stupid of us." Clarke refuses to look at him as she zipped up her pants, and Murphy laughs (it's a sad laugh, and makes Clarke's stomach hurt.)

"What? You regret it already?" When she finally lifted her eyes, she saw that he was staring at her in an almost challenging way. She sighed, and focused on fixing her boots, but something urged her to answer him.

She look him dead in the eye.

But before she could say even one word— something slammed against the door. Murphy was by her side within a second.

"There's gotta be another way out of this room, right?" Murphy insisted, shining his light against the walls that surrounded them, searching a vent.

It didn't take long for the two of them to realize that they were trapped.

Monty smacked into the ground, crying out from the pain of the impact. The last thing Octavia saw, was Monty smiling up at her, before disappearing beneath the bodies of those monsters, tearing him a part. She grabbed hold of the rocks, panic shooting through her veins, as his screams tore through the cave. Lexa had reached the top by then, and was holding a hand out for Bellamy, who refused to move until Octavia did.

"O, please. You have to climb."

Everything felt like slow motion, after that. She felt herself moving, but Bellamy's voice was a distance murmur. It wasn't until Lexa helped pull her up, that he was able to focus again, on reality.

And reality hurt.

She started to sob then, and the second Bellamy was by her side, he wrapped an arm around her, and forced her to run.

Monty had become one of her dearest friends. He had made her laugh, on days where laughing seemed impossible. Told her stories of his adventures on the ark, when him and Jasper had been under the influence of drugs. He was one of the smartest people she had ever met, with the kindest of souls, and now he was gone? Just like that?

The three of them finally slowed, when they felt as though they were a safe distance away. Lexa took out a knife and began playing with it in her hands. Preparing herself for anymore surprises that might come their way. Her stomach growled, and she was suddenly reminded of how hungry she was— how hungry they all must be. She searched her pockets for food, and found a couple of nuts, covered in squished up berries. She popped one in her mouth, and savoured it for as long as she could, and offered the other two to Octavia and Bellamy.

"Thanks." Bellamy smiled lightly, before taking the tiniest nibbles out of his, and giving the other to his sister.

"We need to get out of here, Bell." Octavia sounded tired. "Even if we don't find Clarke."

Even hearing her name, made his heart physically ache. The idea of never seeing her again, was a thought he could not allow himself to dwell on too long, if he wanted to keep his sanity.

"Let's just try getting back to the main level first." He said, wanting this particular conversation to stop.

That's when he saw it. A flicker of light in the distance. It was there one second, and the next it was gone.

"There's someone there." He whispered, lifting up his gun. They moved quickly down the hall, Bellamy in the lead, with his sister following directly behind him, and Lexa holding up the end. They paused, Octavia using her flashlight to search around them. It was quiet— until something leaped on top of her from behind. Octavia's face smacked into the ground, her flashlight falling out of her hand, their shadows growing and shrinking all at once.

Bellamy lifted his own light up, ready to shoot whatever it was attacking his sister, only to find Raven straddling her, a rock in her hand.