𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 | the 100

22 | Dead

"You should have known better."

‧ ✩ ｡ ✭ ° ☆ ･ _______ ･ ☆ ° ✭ ｡ ✩ ‧

With Bellamy's hesitant approval, Jules is the first to join shooting practice, but Amber refuses to join with her despite her insistent nagging. While Amber has never actually held a gun, she knows what kind of disaster it could do in her hands. The further away she stays, the better. Jules pouts when she finally accepts that Amber will not change her mind but then jokes that she wouldn't mind being Amber's knight in shining armor anyway.

What she doesn't know is that Amber would never allow her friend to risk her life for her. Scared by Jules' seemingly harmless joke, the following days she puts more effort into Murphy's training, which she has up until this point never truly appreciated.

"Someone's aggressive," Murphy laughs after sidestepping her punch, but she's spent enough time with him now to know his smirk is one of approval. "Is my company really so exhausting that you've decided to kill me?"

Amber bites her lip to prevent herself from smiling with pride. Only a few days ago she'd have been too focused on protecting herself to risk throwing any punches back. Now they dance around each other, anticipating who will make the next move.

"Why? Are you scared, Murphy?" she taunts.

"Scared?" he repeats with an offended tone and throws a round of jabs at her, forcing her to retreat. She almost trips on a fallen log behind her, but manages to regain balance. She curses at herself and glares back up at Murphy who gives her a meaningful look. "Please. You're not a threat to-"

She leaps at him, not with a clenched fist but with splayed fingers that seize the collar of his jacket. Surprise flashes across his face as she pulls him close, and it gives her the opening she needs. With a swift movement, she spins him around her and uses the fallen tree to knock him off his feet.

He stumbles over it and falls in defeat on the other side. A squeal of triumph bursts from Amber and she claps her hands together as she doubles over in delight.

"Well done," Murphy says from where he lies sprawled on his back. "You killed me."

"Thanks," she giggles, and gracefully sits down on the log as if it were her throne to look down on him, his chest rising and falling steadily from the exertion of their training.

His eyes are closed under the early morning light, and for a moment he looks peaceful. She's begun to notice how, in these moments when he believes she isn't watching, the hardness fades and his face softens, and he looks very much like someone who could be much more than just her partner in crime.

But he made it clear when she tried to talk about Mbege that while he appreciates her help, and maybe even her company, he has no desire to let her in. She bites her lip and sighs, unnamed feelings weighing her heart.

"Come on, Murphy. You're not dead yet," she says. Turning her back on him, she stands up briskly to walk away, when a smile plays on her lips. "But I guess humiliation doesn't feel much different."

"What happened to the frail damsel in distress?" she hears him mutter behind her.

Grinning to herself, she walks back into position, ready to face him again. She's never knocked Murphy onto his back before and while it'll likely be a while before she manages it again, she'll make sure to not let him forget this moment. The surprise in his eyes when she pulled him close was priceless.