Beatrix Blake and John Murphy share an intricate history of bitter resentment, as the lines between love and hate blur, they grapple with shared histories, betrayal, and the unpredictability of their feelings.
SLOW BURN enemies to lovers.
The 100.
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"Scared of being murdered, huh?"
Lexa left, and Beatrix stayed, sitting alone in the dark.
"Blake," a voice whispered gently, and Beatrix looked up to find Murphy standing nearby. "You okay?" He questioned, and she nodded slowly.
"Yeah, fine." Beatrix replied dismissively as Murphy sat beside her, the dim light revealing concern etched on his face.
"You don't seem fine," he observed quietly.
Beatrix hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I just murdered my best friend. I'll never be fine." she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.
Murphy sighed, unsure on what to say. "You did the right thing." he said softly, placing a hand on her thigh.
"I know." Beatrix murmured. "It doesn't make it any easier."
"What was the commander doing talking to you?" He asked, and Beatrix looked up, realising that everyone had been watching.
"Nothing." She mumbled, and he looked unconvinced. "She just said I'm a strong leader, big whoop."
"I'd say everyone from our camp would disagree." He stood up, bluntly. "I'm going to bed now."
"Okay, and?" She snapped, "You want me to join you or something?"
"No. Blake. You stay here and wallow in your misery and self pity. I'm going to sleep." He spat, walking away from her.
"Will do." Beatrix watched coldly as Murphy walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silence. She was left alone, the weight of the recent events sinking deeper into her thoughts.
After a few moments of contemplation, she stood up, determined to get rid of the suffocating emotions.
A sudden noise startled her, and she turned to see Clarke quietly making her way over to her. Clarke's expression softened, and Beatrix noticed her puffy, tear stained face.
"Hey," Clarke murmured softly, moving closer.
"Look- Clarke I'm-" Beatrix began but Clarke interrupted her.
"It's not your fault, Beatrix." She mumbled, sitting beside her.
"Still." Beatrix lowered her voice to a whisper. "My mother got around, so I'm not really surprised. But I probably shouldn't have yelled it."
"My parents had problems, but I didn't know they were so bad." Clarke sighed, changing the topic with tears in her eyes, "Anyway, I think Bellamy wants to talk to you."
"About what?" Beatrix questioned, and Clarke gave her a knowing look.
"Probably to ask you the question that everyone has already asked." She forced a smile, "I'm getting sick of it too, the 'are you okay' makes me want to scream."
