John Murphy One-Shots (OPEN)

When Dreams Become Nightmares

(A/N) This short story idea came to me when listening to When Dreams Become Nightmares by Abandon All Ships. Personally, I have to be feeling tolerant or in a real good mood to listen to Abandon All Ships, just because, they're not really my cup of tea- but they sound WAY better live.

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It had been two days since Murphy was hung, since Charlotte jumped off a cliff, and since everyone had decided to sweep the whole incident under the carpet. Murphy was still angry about everything, as you would, what having nearly dying for something he didn't do. I saw him lying beside me with his back turned to me facing the Drop Ship wall. Even with tents he still preferred the Drop Ship; this told me that he still needed closure. The Drop Ship had sturdy walls, a solid roof and a door that opens and closes. He needs solitude. He hasn't spoken much since the hanging, and when he does, it was sass. I can't give him any solitude or restitution. I closed my eyes, turning my back on him, and falling asleep.

Murphy looked at me, and I smiled like I always do when he looks at me deeply with those blue eyes of his. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you" he said, putting his hands on my hips with a smirk. "Duty calls, I guess" I said as he pressed our foreheads together smiling. Then Clarke stormed over, ripping Murphy from my grasp. He stumbled slightly as she tugged him away by his wrist. "What the hell, Clarke?" Murphy asked.

"You know exactly what the hell!" she said, holding up his knife. "You killed Wells" she said. Then, I was pushing through a crowd of people as I tried to reach Murphy. He stood on a plank of material held up by two buckets, a rope around his neck. "Murphy!" I yelled and he locked eyes with me. Underneath all the blood and wounds I could see fear, sadness and the feeling of not doing something when you had the chance. "No!" I screamed, running up to him. Bellamy kicked out the material Murphy was standing on, making Murphy drop slightly, only to be pulled back up again by the noose and rope.

"Murphy! No!" I cried, and as I pushed further through the crowds, I didn't get anywhere. I cried, my stomach and throat tight as I pushed, trying to get to the man who-

"Shh!" someone shook me. I jumped slightly, and looked up to see Murphy half leaning over me. "What?" I whispered, seeing he was OK. "You were screaming my name, and 'no'... Was I.. Was I attacking you in a nightmare?" he asked. "No, worse, it was when they were hanging you" I whispered, trying to be quiet now. He snickered and looked away, swallowing hard. He looked back at me with care. "It's OK, I'm fine, I'm here" he said and hugged me. Him dying was worse than him attacking me, hell, he's already attacked me. Training practice we would spar together. But him dying..

"I'm here" he said as I let a few tears seep into his jacket as I clung to him. "I'm not going anywhere" he said in.. In his voice. It wasn't groggy, distant, distracted, saddened.. It was just his voice. Perfect. I was lulled by the sound of his heart beat, his body heat and his smell.