"What took you so long?" Murphy asked the approaching figure who was just out of the corner of his eye.

He didn't know Winnie by sight yet but he figured that she was the only one on this planet who was evenly remotely interested in him. So he took the chance, it had been an hour since sunrise and none of the delinquents looked like they were moving anytime soon. They were sprawled out in little areas where the blinding sunlight filtered through the trees.

"I got you a present Johnny Boy." Winnie replied by throwing the jacket onto his torso, she secretly hoped he hated it, she wanted it to burn. Don't steal from the dead.

"Oh come on, now I'm going to have to get you a birthday present," Murphy was lying in a particular spot with his arms under his head, he tried to look at Winnie for a second but the rays of sunlight were still new to him. He burned his vision by staring directly at the star.

Murphy swore under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, he didn't dare look again but before he knew it Winnie granted him some shade. He inspected the article of clothing, "I guess I should say thanks, but I like my style how it is. It's classy."

"Classy? That's one way to put it."

Murphy changed the subject to what he has been itching to know since he awoke, "So what's on the agenda for today then?" Winnie wondered where he was going with it, and when he continued rambling he did so without noticing the frown settling on Winnie's mouth and the change in her mood, "Maybe an exorcism? Or we could start be actually summoning the demon, can't really exorcise a ghost without there being one there in the first-"

Winnie didn't find that funny. In fact she found it horrifying. It was one thing for her to joke about magic, it was another thing to start talking about exorcisms and demons, black magic was not a joking matter.

"Never say that again John," She was overcome with emotion and she lifted her voice slightly, it was like a flood that came from the heavens, she hated it but her voice cracked, "Never say anything like that again."

Murphy laughed in disbelief with his eyebrows furrowed, "Winnie, what's wrong?"

She replied by dragging him up by his arm, he staggered for a second in shock at the sudden physical contact but followed the girl.

"Hey, easy what's going on?" He asked and Winnie was surprised at how much emotion and concern he could show if he wanted to.

Winnie had regained most of her composure and she would only say this once so she had to be clear, "You know me, probably better than anyone else. And I am telling you know, I am not a witch."

Murphy portrayed no emotion on his face, he stood there, waiting for to go on. It didn't add up to him, yesterday she confessed to magic in the most badass move he had ever seen and now she is acting like all of that never happened.

"I can joke and they," She gestured to the whole camp, "Can believe what ever the hell they want. I mean if it makes them scared of me then that's an advantage.

"I've heard the rumours - I have lived my whole life with rumours - but I am telling you, I'm not. My father thought I was but he's wrong, I'm not a witch John."

Murphy could have been sincere at this moment in time, he could have just trusted Winnie. Yet as much as he did, the mystery of Winnie Scarfone that he had to crack and his personality made him confrontational.

"What do you call a person who practises magic then?" He was confrontational and accusing.

Winnie had expected him to go along with her like he had on everything else but she was learning that John Murphy had his own priorities and his own life. She liked this side. It was even more bad then normal.

"There's power in a name, it's ancient power. So I just have one, Winnie Scarfone."

"It's a good name." Murphy replied, he wasn't planning on calling her anything else, "So just to clarify, no exorcisms."

"No exorcisms."

"What about offerings to the gods?" Murphy reasoned.

"Unless you're volunteering...."

"Oh, I know you want to do bad things to me Winnie, I just didn't think they'd come this soon."

—

The name of the game they could talk about was weapons, and lots of them. Winnie had a feeling that she would always want to be armed when on the ground.

"I'm actually more of a blunt instrument person myself."

Winnie confessed to Murphy as she sat next to him and his guiding hand. He knew exactly which metal to use from the dropship for the sharpest blade, how to fashion a comfortable handle for "stab-ability" and most importantly, he loved to show off.

Murphy wouldn't tell her to her face but he loved the fact that she was clueless in the department, "So you've never handled a knife before?"

"I do my dirty work with my hands."

Murphy looked up from sharpening his blade and wiped his nose on his sleeve. God, he thought, Winnie came up with some of the best innuendos he had ever heard.

He thought he would see a dirty smirk on her lips, instead he saw her look the most sorrowful he had ever seen her. He wanted to ask her, he had to ask her. What put Winnie Scarfone in the Skybox? But something told him he shouldn't as she stared a little too long at her hands.

And then with her blade she cut herself, it was like a paper cut, a long and thin line that drew beads of blood as it went along her palm.

"Do you like feeling pain?" Murphy ended the question with a laugh to try and hide the serious concern in the question.

"The thing is, it really doesn't hurt," And then Winnie had a realisation and the thing Murphy liked the most about her came back; her youth, "That's it, they need to think we're hurting."

"Who's they?" Murphy hadn't caught her enthusiasm yet as Winnie was being her cryptic self as per usual.

"The Ark. They need to think we're dying."

Murphy loved the sound of that dirty work even more.

—

Winnie felt the girl's forehead after she screamed, "Just ten more seconds, nobody's being a wuss or dying on my watch. Don't worry."

"Scarfone-" Bellamy was on the fence with the plan, the theory of it fitted his agenda perfectly but the reality looked and sounded a whole lot worse.

Winnie raised an eyebrow at him, she wasn't backing down, before nodding to Murphy to continue, the girl relaxed ever so slightly with Winnie's words, she trusted the witch even if her lungs were burning with the intense heat of the fire.

The girl screamed one last time and like an alarm bell was ringing, Wells was called into action and he tackled Murphy to the ground.

The girl shrieked again as she was involuntary dropped closer to the fire. Winnie rushed to her aid at a speed and agility she usually reserved for dodging law enforcement.

"You good?" She asked her when she was a safe distance from the fire. The girl nodded,

"Harper right?" Winnie asked and the girl nodded again, "I'll remember that."

Winnie turned her focus back to the action and did so just as Wells said the words he couldn't even finish before he would instantly regret it, "I should have expected this from you Winnie. You're a-"

Murphy sucker punched Wells so hard on his jaw that Winnie heard a bone crunch. He fell down onto the floor, mud caking his jeans but the extra weight didn't stop Wells. As Murphy shook off his hand with his eyes off his opponent Wells rose and grabbed Murphy from behind and threw them both down.

Winnie didn't move as the fight ensued, it was a good one in her book, both fighters were skilled yet flawed at the same time, the crowd was bloodthirsty and erupted in applause and shouts as knuckles connected against skin.

She examined Murphy's every move, analysing for later as her father had taught her. He was powerful but not fast enough, the opposite of Winnie. He could put all his weight into a blow but you could tell he hadn't been in many fights before. Murphy had potential.

Bellamy stole a look at the witch and saw the way her face portrayed her every emotion, it went from shock, to lust, to satisfaction all in ten seconds.

"I've always loved  a good fist fight," Winnie shouted to Bellamy but his response was interrupted by the sound of Murphy's head connecting with the floor.

Winnie attention was immediately returned to him, "Come on Johnny Boy! Get up and show him who is boss."

That's when the knife was pulled and the tables turned. A light switch was flicked and the whole crowd went silent.

No longer was Winnie smiling, no blood was being spilt today. None.

"You're dead." Murphy spat at Wells.

"Over my dead body." Winnie murmured and stepped forward but was beaten by Bellamy. She thought he was on a the same wave length as her but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Fair fight."

Bellamy dropped a knife at Wells feet and stepped away, pulling the advancing Winnie away with him.

The pair at the edge of the ring didn't speak, they didn't need to, this was between the two with the knives, not them. Yet they were on the edge, ready to intervene but knowing that it would damage the social order they were building.

Winnie murmured under her breath as the final move was being played. Bellamy tried his hardest to ignore the words, he knew by the way they put goosebumps on his skin that it was witchcraft.

Wells held Murphy in a headlock with the knife resting against Murphy's neck. For a second Winnie wondered if Wells would actually cut, if he had it in him to end a life at all. Then she remembered him as a child; she saw the shy child of the Chancellor that she was forced to get to know.

"You wouldn't." Winnie broke the silence of the arena, "You couldn't." She called Wells bluff as both of the pair panted and Murphy swallowed the saliva in his throat and felt the knife against his skin.

Winnie would never find out if she was correct as Clarke's voice came into the clearing, "Wells, put him down!"

Wells was like any other lovestruck boy, he listened to Clarke instantly and let Murphy go who stumbled forward but the mortification was clear on his face.

A whole group emerged with the blonde, back from their supplies trip to Mount Weather.

Winnie caught her partner and instantly lifted his face to hers to inspect his newly formed bruises and thin line on his neck, "I'll kill that son of a bitch." He whispered.

"No death. Do you hear me?" Winnie commanded him. She wasn't trying to be controlling, it was just her. Yet also Winnie was learning that John acted on impulse, they were fire and ice.

Murphy was a wildfire which scalds you instantly but Winnie was the freezing cold that eventually paralyses you.

"I hear you, I just don't want to listen." Murphy responded, pulling himself up despite the fact Winnie's arm felt more like home then anywhere else.

"Octavia, what happened?" Bellamy asked, he ran to Octavia seeing her injury and went into caring big brother mode.

Winnie didn't like to see him like this because his life has always revolved around Octavia. He would deny it but it was the truth, Winnie was there for a lot of it but not enough to lift the weight of Bellamy's shoulders, she had wanted to for so long, to bear the burden but now, Winnie couldn't think of a worse thing to do, "Where's the food?"

"We didn't make it to Mount Weather." Finn informed them.

"There are survivors," Clarke started, "We were attacked," Winnie was amazed but not surprised, she always had a nagging doubt that they couldn't be the last and now she was right. But she learned from the uproar in camp that it came as a shock.

"Turns out we aren't alone, the good news is that means we can survive, the radiation won't kill us." The crowd then began to notice the parallels between her and Winnie, two girls on opposite sides of the same spectrum and complete opposite reactions illustrated by one bare wrist and one handcuffed.

"What happened to your wristband?" Clarke changed the subject and pulled at Wells sleeve.

Winnie waved with her exposed wrist and scarred palm, "I happened."

"You idiots, life support on the Ark is dying. That's the reason they sent us down here, the Ground is their only hope and now they are going to believe it's hopeless. Kiss goodbye to everybody up in the Ark."

Hope.

That emotion, that feeling meant a lot to Winnie. And she felt it, she felt it being lost from the camp and replaced by thoughts of parents. No one on the camp could shake the imagine that came to their mind.

Some were of sweet parents profiles of their children's crime, some were of ghosts that they never had the pleasure of knowing. Others were phantoms and their haunting words echoing in ears.

Winnie thought of her father and felt sick, he couldn't die. He had survived so much and to be killed by a lack of oxygen, no that wouldn't happen.

It was when she thought about her mother that Winnie felt the sickness and mourning in the camp. Because the last image she had of her was her in their quarters, lying in a pool of her own blood and Winnie frantically trying to wipe it off her own hands.