John Murphy: Fire

Today was just another day, sweating buckets and working your ass off. You took for granted how the Ark was always one temperature all year round, no deathly heat, no fucking bugs. Today you were stationed at the food tent, seeing as how you were one of the very few girls on earth who could stand the sight and smell of a dead animal. Hell, even some of the boys opted out, but you didn't care. You figured cutting and drying meat was better than building a wall with Captain Bellamy watching your every move. That is, until some dumbass decided to be the class A dipshit and set the whole god damn tent on fire. To add to the problem, the jackass did it while you were in there. You were minding your own business then whoosh, surrounded by flames.

"FUCK!" You yell, completely trapped.

"Son of a bitch! Someone's in there!" One of the kids yell. You knew they didn't have water to spare, or anything to spare for that matter, so you were entirely fucked.

"It's Y/n! Y/n's in there! Bellamy we gotta get her out!" Murphy yells, running past Bellamy only to be pulled back.

"What the hell?!"

"She's as good as dead, Murphy. Let it go." Bellamy commands, his voice low and regretful but still stern. A horrified look covers Murphy's face while he pulls against Bellamy's grip.

You take a deep breath, breathing in the last of the clean oxygen, and lock your eyes on the tent entrance. You can hear Murphy screaming for you, you know they can't help you now. You have to be the one, you have to save yourself. One last huff of air leaves you and you run for the flames. You jump, throwing yourself out and into the dirt outside the tent. It isn't but a few seconds before hands grab at you, pulling you up and away from the fire. Due to how fast you went through the fire, you only had a few burned areas on your arms, nothing a cold bath and a bandage couldn't help. Bellamy goes to help you stand but you yank away, glaring at him.

"I'll save my damn self." You mutter, dusting off your pants. You understood why he couldn't have helped you, but you were still mad. You turn and bump into the chest of John Murphy, who instantly wraps his arms around you. In this moment, for whatever reason, he didn't care about having a heart in front of the camp.

"I thought I lost you." He whispers, his face buried in you air.

"Not yet, sweetheart, not yet."