Prisoner 83 | the 100

chapter thirty-seven

When Murphy approached the others, a smirk covered his lips as he held up his drink and said, "Check it out—salvaged Monty's still from the dropship. I guess, you know, if we could salvage Monty, huh." The response to his joke was not what the lanky male had been hoping for, but it was predictable. No one ever laughed at his jokes, excluding Hazel, that is. "Easy—just a joke." He received blank stares from both Clarke and Finn, making him roll his eyes and change the subject, "Okay. . . you, uh, tell her we're cleared?"

The Spacewalker's lips were in a thin, straight line as he hesitated before answering, "No."

Murphy seemed to miss the tension between the couple, having originally thought it was because of his own presence. So, when he continued to explain how they were free, he finally realized it wasn't him making the situation awkward. It was Finn and Clarke. "Well, it looks like our pardon for surviving includes our time on the ground. Now there's bigger fish to fry, I guess."

"We did what we had to do," Finn said as he stared directly at the blonde, who was keen on avoiding his gaze. He suddenly stood up, saying, "I gotta go."

The two remaining members of the hundred watched him go, the male whistling as he asked, "Trouble in paradise?" Although the question was nonchalantly phrased, Murphy was curious as to what was happening between the couple. It seemed as if time and time again, fate was working against them, which reminded Murphy of his own unfortunate situation with a certain proclaimed-to-be dead, dirty blonde.

Without even sparing him a look, Clarke growled out, "Just because they pardoned you, doesn't mean I have."

Just then, the ponytail-haired mechanic approached them. She had a look of determination on her face that still remained even after her eyes fell on the lanky male sitting next to the blonde. "Clarke," she greeted with a small smile. She then turned to the greasy-haired boy and easily ordered, "Beat it, Murphy."

The delinquent frowned at the Latina's dismissal of him, muttering something about how Hazel would have included him if she were there.

Raven's response to his pathetic complaints was, "Yeah, well she's not here. I always questioned her sanity anyways."

It was at that moment that Bellamy returned with three cups of Monty's moonshine. He figured the trio was talking about the deceased dirty blonde and immediately downed the contents in his glass. With a grimace and swipe of his nose, the ex-guard member drank a second glass. When he finally returned to the table he asked, "Are you guys talking about. . ."

Clarke nodded, stopping the curly haired brunette's hand as he tried sliding the last glass over to her. She watched the other three as they bowed their heads slightly, remembering the medic in silence. The blonde cocked her head to the side in confusion, eyes flickering between the three before she suddenly realized something. Clarke had been so focused on how to get their people out of Mount Weather, that she had forgotten about who was actually inside of it.

"Oh, shit." Her words gained the attention of the three, whose expressions changed from mourning to worry.

Bellamy was the first to react, "What? What is it?"

The blonde couldn't help but laugh a little, making the others think that maybe Murphy wasn't the crazy one after all. Her eyes teared up as she laughed, her companions had forgotten all about their dirty blonde friend as they stared at her in confusion. They were too worried about the sanity and wellbeing of Clarke, their leader.

"Hazel—" the blonde choked out, struggling as her laughter turned into wheezing.

Raven placed her hand on the young woman's arm as Bellamy and Murphy stared at the blonde wearily. The Latina shushed her and tried her best to comfort Clarke, but it wasn't working. It seemed as if the princess had finally cracked. "Clarke, shh. It's okay, what happened to Hazel wasn't your fault."