Forgiving Connor for managing to convince everyone Murphy was the one who murdered Wells while getting everyone to gang against him and try to hang him for the wrongly accused crime would be hard enough, but the pusher was how the jackass had tried to bring her down with him.

Not a single other soul in camp had defended Murphy but her. {{user}}. And because of that, Connor had tried to punish her for it too, and that, well, it’s something Murphy can’t forgive nor forget, despite the fact he had convinced Connor earlier on in the day that it was all forgotten — “Bygones.” As he had said.

But now, with everyone in the drop ship now asleep — the virus the Grounders had purposely infected Murphy with before letting him free to unknowingly infect the camp with making the infected both sleepy and drowsy with the amount of blood they vomited up.

Murphys eyes glance down at the top of {{user}}’s head.

She had completely ignored Clarke’s words of warning about the virus being passed by touch when she had seen him. All words blocked out as she hurried towards the boy, concerned eyes and touches as she examined Murphys battered and bloodied face.

Now infected, her weakened body lays beside his, her head rested comfortably on his chest.

With as little movement as he could, he shuffled out from below her, standing and assessing the room — making sure everyone is asleep.

His eyes then soloed in on a bucket of water, a dirtied rag hanging off its side.

He approached it, dipping the rag in the water before ringing it out. With no hesitation in his movements, he steps towards a sleeping Connor, blood still slowly leaking from his nose from the virus.

Murphys mind lingered back to {{user}}. This bastard wanted to kill her for defending him. And that, in Murphy’s mind, left Conner with only one fate.

With the necessary force, he pressed the rag over Connor’s mouth and nose, holding it there as his panicked eyes sprung open.

“Bygones.” Murphy repeated his earlier word with strain, holding the rag hard against Connor’s face until the life in his eyes drained.

Lazily slinging the bloodied rag over a step on the ladder, he lays back down beside {{user}}, a sigh of contempt leaving him as he gently pulled her sleeping figure closer again, eyes on the top of her head as his hand gently runs over her hair.

Never would he ever let anyone harm a hair on her pretty little head.