1 + 2 | EMBERS TO FIRESTORM | THE 100 | JOHN MURPHY

FIFTEEN

F I F T E E N

Comfort was the medicine for Althea, and lying in the arms of John Murphy was exactly that. Her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats, lying in silence. Her eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness.

Murphy's arms wrapped around her: one hand pressed against her spine and one through her hair, on the back of her head, with his thumb ever so softly brushing against her hair.

Neither had felt such comfort in what felt like years. It was bliss. Like a cure to their immense anger with the world for what it had done to them, who it had taken from them. Now, it had given them each other and, despite the circumstances being dire, they felt some sense of content within all the tragedy.

Slowly, Althea allows herself to fall asleep, against better judgement. Murphy feels her breathing against his becoming deep, smiling slightly at the trust. Sleep swept across her like a blanket, holding in the warmth and holding in the safety.

In that moment, Murphy saw the pureness to her. She truly was divine, but there was a beautiful sadness to her which wrote itself like poetry, softly written across the page in the most cautious of manners.

She was perfectly flawed with her mind full of death and crows and her heart wrapped in vines, mutilated by poisoned thorns.

Behind her eyes lies a riddle of want; want for a purpose. He could see that as clear as day. With the way she cared so unconditionally for the wellbeing of those she saw die, you would have to be a fool to no realise that.

Stuck in thought over the tragedy that is Althea Barnes, Murphy's body jolts with surprise when Althea's body suddenly begins tossing and turning in his arms. Between her lips she mumbles incomprehensible chants of distress and her face screws up into a frown.

"Thea?" He whispers softly as he sits up, watching her chest moving up and down in a ragged profession. "Thea, wake up," He says, this time with more desperation.

Suddenly, her body shoots up and her eyes fly open, wild. Her scream is like none Murphy had ever heard before. It felt like it shook the whole camp, splitting it down the centre. It erupted from her with raw emotion: fear.

Taking a hold of her shoulders, he pulls her to face him. "It's okay, it's okay," He hushes, watching at her lips press together and her eyes flit to his, the panic in them was blinding. Shakily, her fingers lift to his neck. They softly glide along his skin, her eyes watching as they go and watering with oceans.

"I saw you," She chokes out. Her hands move away from his neck and her eyes lock with his. For a moment, he doesn't know what to say. He slides his hands down her arms to her hands and holds them tight. Perhaps it was fear of what she was about to say next that made him cling on so tight, maybe it was because her hands shook furiously, but either way hey both felt a sense of fear residing within them. "I saw you dying."

All at once, she was no longer beautifully sad. Now she was real, very real and her words cut like swords through the night. Her tongue was sharp, not in a malicious way, but in a way that set fear into the hearts of all. Hearing that you're going to die is never a nice thing, but hearing it from someone who has seen it is worse.

"I need you to promise me something," Althea says, one of her hands sliding across his face to hold him. His fear was apparent, she'd worn it many times herself and felt it in her tired veins. His eyes were staring into her like she held the secrets of the universe, held by her being. "Promise me that you'll be careful, promise me that you won't let your anger get the better of you."

"I'll try," He responds, ducking his head and leaning into her palm ever so slightly. He was gentle, like a gust of wind through the grass on a summer's day, but Althea knew how fearsome he could be. How violent his actions could become, she knew that was what would force his doom upon him.

Leaning forwards, her forehead presses against his. "Please," She whispers, her hot breath dancing against his skin, tickling his lips. "Please be careful." Her words sink deep as his eyes roam her desperate features: to her eyes that call out to him to save himself to her lips which he so desperately wanted to destroy with his own, to roam her.

She found herself caving in, her chin tilts and her lips are so close to his she could taste him on her tongue, but the fear of falling apart was too much. Althea pulls herself away from him, sinking her head back into the make-shift bed.

Pushing a hand through his long hair, Murphy sighs and lowers himself down too. Lying next to her staring into those eyes that held so much grief and into the soul that held so much pain, so much fear for what the world had to offer. He watched them close, at last allowing herself to fall into sleep, and followed suit. Sleeping, dreaming until the sun rises again.

-

malthea is so close to that first kiss, and yet so far

[NOT EDITED]