The Calm and The Storm
Murphy's so unfocused, staring at his and Bellamy's linked hands, that he runs straight into the man when he stops abruptly, a quiet gasp leaving his lips.
When he does look up, he really wishes he hadn't.
Clarke and Finn are deer caught in the headlights; lying on the forest floor, clothes held protectively over their bare bodies. For a full minute everyone stares back and forth at each other, gauging the situation-- no one knowing quite what to do.
"What the hell?" Murphy's the first one to speak, not waiting for the answer before he starts to march forward, completely intent on breaking Finn's nose. He almost does it before Bellamy snaps out of his own shock and grabs his arm.
"Murphy, it's not--"
"It's not what, Finn? It's not what it looks like? Is that really the excuse you were about to give me?"
"That wasn't what I was going to say." His voice is shaky, but Murphy isn't sure if it's from remorse or not.
"Then what were you going to say?," He asks, but he loses his patience before Finn's even opened his mouth. "Actually, I don't care. What is wrong with you? How could you do this to Raven?"
Raven.
It's as if Murphy reminds himself of the injured girl's existence, eyes widening while his jaw drops. He had to tell her. Right now.
"Murphy, wait."
"Please, just let Finn explain this to her." Clarke pleads, arms still clutching her coat to her body. She looks so afraid, and he swears he could strangle her with that jacket if Bellamy would just let him.
He's had enough, and his gaze finds Bellamy's once more before he opens his mouth, letting out a loud "Raven!" before he turns on his heel, feet carrying him away from the nightmare he'd somehow stumbled into.
Bellamy groans at the boy's escape, internally cursing Murphy for leaving him alone to deal with this shit.
Clarke jumps up, her back to him as she quickly throws her clothes on. He keeps his eyes on the trees as she gets dressed, even after she's run by him to catch up to Murphy.
Because he doesn't want to see this. Raven is as much his sister as O is and he can't imagine what he'd do to Lincoln if he found him in a similar situation. As it is, his already split knickles are gripping the handle of his gun so tight that they feel like they're going to rip open again. He feels bile rise up his throat when Finn reaches out to grab his arm. "Don't fucking touch me."
Finn's face falls, tears springing to his eyes, but he complies, retracting his hand. "I need your help."
"Raven!" Birds scatter at his screams, flying out of the branches. He hears Clarke's faint calls behind him, and he knows they shouldn't be this loud, but he doesn't really give a shit. Let the zombies come, he's in a killing mood.
Because she loves him.
She loves him so fucking much, and he clearly couldn't care less.
He finally breaks through the trees, tripping slightly over a log in his frantic rush. He barely keeps his balance, scraping his knee against the bark.
The rest of their group flocked like the birds had, coming out of the doorway and standing on the porch; guns drawn at the raucous happening so early. They're watching in horror while he makes his way to the vehicle, still screaming. He rips the van door open, causing an unhealthy sound to come from the old metal.
Raven's still sleeping, her breathing unsteady. "Raven." She mumbles a little at that, burying her face in the seat. He shakes her as lightly as he can manage, careful not to jostle her new stitches, and her eyes shoot open in alarm.
"What's going on? What happened?"
Blue eyes meet brown and his breath hitches in his throat.
She has no idea.
And it's clear that he hadn't thought this through because how the hell is he supposed to be the one to tell her?
"Seriously, Murph, what is it?" Her voice is still shaky with worry. He wants to hurry up and spit the words out, calm her down, but he knows the reality is so much more devastating than anything she's probably imagining.
The others have inched forward by now, closer to the van or near the forest as Clarke emerges, halting in horror.
"I--He...Finn cheated on you." The words come out as a singular breath, running together. There's a beat of silence and her eyebrows knit together as if she can't comprehend the concept. "With Clarke."
Her face drops, every emotion clearing from it, as if she's calm.
"We-- Me and Bellamy--were going to check on them and... and we saw them. Together. I'm so sorry."
And then the storm erupts. "You're a fucking liar." She snarls, throwing the hands still resting on her shoulders off. His eyes become scratchy and dry again as he watches her. The brunette swivels to look at the audience that's gathered, her gaze falling on Clarke.
The blonde looks terrible; tears fleeing down her face, arms wrapped around her torso like she just got punched--like the wind is still knocked out of her.
Just like that, Raven's on the move; a lioness that's just found her prey. She pushes past Murphy until she can squeeze her body out the door, landing awkwardly on her good leg. Her body sways, still ridden with vertigo, but Murphy's arms shoot out before she can fall. "Let me go."
"Not happening, Reyes."
She knows him well enough to see that it really isn't going to happen, so she continues as if he isn't there; hopping to the middle of the clearing, her left foot trailing behind her at an unusual angle. The effort, even with using Murphy as a crutch, causes an immediate sheen of sweat to cover her body.
But she's stubborn, and so she doesn't stop until she's reached Clarke; until she's crowded into the girl's space so much that their chests press together. "Tell me it isn't true." She whispers, voice hard. Her eyes are searching the blue ones before her, unsure of what she's looking to find but looking all the same. "Tell me you weren't out there fucking my boyfriend while I was here alone, dying."
The blonde keeps her eyes on Raven, trying to block out the gasps of her friends around her. "I can't." Her voice wavers, she wants to say more but there isn't anything to say.
Raven's nodding, laughing, and Clarke thinks it's the worst sound she's ever heard. "How long?" The blonde doesn't answer at first and she tries again, voice raising to a scream, "How long, Clarke?"
"Three months."
She doesn't even get a response this time. One second Raven's smirking as she asks her the question and the next she's punching the blonde, grabbing onto anything she can to anchor herself while Murphy watches, unable to bring himself to try to stop her. Lincoln rushes to them, lifting her in his arms and pulling her away; she uses her grip in the blonde's hair to drag her with them until Octavia finally separates them. The youngest Blake pushes Clarke through the small crowd, disappearing into the house.
"Raven, you have to calm down." Maya's voice snaps Raven out of her bloodlust.
"I'm fine." She assures the short girl, pushing her away with the hand that isn't hugging her stomach. "I just need to be alone, I'm going in the van."
"Please, just let me check your stitches first."
It isn't Maya's fault, Raven knows that, but she can't help but hate her right now anyway. "I said not right now, goddamn." She turns, limping the short distance to the trunk. Murphy's already gotten the door open by the time she reaches it, and he helps push her through it before climbing in himself.
They all move a few feet away from the car, throwing themselves down in the dirt. "Did that really just happen?" Miller asks.
"How could we have missed that for three months?" Monty's rubbing at his temples, unable to really accept any of this.
"Hindsights always 20/20." Maya murmurs, pulling at the grass.
"The real question would be how are we gonna get them in a car together?" Lincoln's question floats through the air, sending the group into silence.
"We could just leave Clarke," Jasper shrugs, unaffected by the wide eyed glances he gets from his friends. "Finn too. Not like they don't deserve it."
Raven's body is faced toward the window, her side leaning against the seat. Her back presses against Murphy's, posed exactly like hers. They aren't facing each other, but they don't need to. "You could've messed your back up worse, Raven."
"She should've gotten worse." Her words are cold, daggers that he can practically feel press against Clarke's throat. She can feel him nod against her hair.
"But you're the one who's really going to get hurt if you don't quit moving so much."
"I don't care."
"You will later."
"Maybe, maybe not."
She sounds empty enough for him to flinch, not used to hearing her like that. She was a passionate person, her joy and her anger always at extreme levels. "I should have warned you first, I shouldn't have told you like that."
She shrugs, "Wasn't your fault. Besides, it's not like you've ever been the tactful one." He can hear the smirk in her voice and it travels all the way to his because, yes, this was the Raven he knew.
He doesn't want to ruin it, but he has to ask. "What are you gonna say to him?"
"He's getting the same treatment Clarke did. Only you're gonna make sure they don't stop me this time."
"As long as you don't look like you're ripping your stitches." He promises. It isn't the smartest agreement he's ever made, but it sure as hell isn't the dumbest either.
She's on the bed, Octavia glaring holes into her from the doorway. "I get it, you hate me. I'm sorry, O." Silence greets her, but she knows what Octavia's thinking, 'It isn't me you should be saying that to.' She only shakes her head, "I should be apologizing to all of you. I didn't want this to--"
Without a word, Octavia leaves the room. Her footsteps echo down the hallway, mocking Clarke with its emptiness. More wet trails run down her face, covering old paths and creating new ones. The blonde isn't expecting her to return, but she does a few minutes later with a hair brush and a damp rag in her hand.
She sits down next to her, starts wiping at her face; at the blossoming bruises and cuts that are there. She doesn't talk, and sometimes the rough material digs into an open wound too deep, but still she's grateful. Even more so when the other girl fixes her hair, clumped together and matted.
She works quickly, efficiently, and soon they're just staring at each other with nothing left to keep their hands busy. "Did you already know?" Clarke questions, surprised that Octavia wasn't surprised or overly upset with her like the others. "How?" She asks after she sees the barely discernable shake of the other girl's head.
"I'm your best friend Clarke, that's my job." She turns her head towards the ceiling, "Why'd you do it?"
She shrugs, the facade of indifference ruined by the way her body's slight tremor. "I was lonely, I guess "
"You had me. You had all of us. You had your mom." Octavia has always told her the truth, even when it hurt, and her tone now tells Clarke that this time won't be any different. "You know she'd be ashamed of you, right?"
"I know. It seems so stupid now."
The brunette snorts, "I bet it does." She sits up, sighing. "If you don't keep cold water on that it's going to swell like a bitch." She tells her, as if Clarke wasn't the one who taught her that.
Octavia hovers near doorway, hands gripping the frame. "For the record, I don't hate you. Even though you'd totally deserve it." And then she's gone, not bothering to shut the door behind her.
"Are you sure?" Bellamy asks him for the hundredth time, even though he's looking right at the mark.
It's a mess of veins and red and blue and purple and black, extending from the scratch on the side of his abdomen to cover half of his torso. All the color seems to have been leeched from the area, now pale as bone.
"What else does this look like, Bellamy?" Finn asks hopelessly. "I didn't want to worry anyone, not right after Abby and Raven."
"How did Clarke not see this?"
"It was dark, I made sure it wasn't in her line of vision." He shrugs.
Bellamy shakes his head, "You know we can't fix this, right? Clarke, Maya they can't reverse the disease."
"I know that."
"Then how do you expect me to help?"
"I just wanted you--someone--to know. It's been two days already; I'm not risking the group anymore."
"So you're gonna just leave?"
"Yea, after I say goodbye," He smiles, but it's the most self depreciating thing Bellamy's ever seen. "Unless one of you wants to shoot me. Which would actually be really appreciated right now."