Chapter 13
It is late in the night when everything comes to a calm again. It's a relief to see some people actually sleep. Unfortunately, it doesn't really last long.
Nathan Miller's voice booms through the air of the calm and cool night as he announces that the Grounder's gone. Escaped.
The crowd panics instantly. In less than a minute a thousand scenarios are put together, the Grounders coming back to slaughter us in each and every single one of them. None of the scenarios are impossible, which is what's truly terrifying, but the kids are fresh from a crazy trip, vulnerable and tired, and we don't need this at the moment. If I have to be the one that pretends I'm not scared out of my mind about everything right now, then so be it.
I know who helped the Grounder escape too, but it doesn't matter now. If anything befalls us now as a result of it, that will be on her conscience, and I know that she knows.
''Let the Grounders come!'' Bellamy's voice booms through the noise, getting everyone to listen as only he can - and I've never been more releived to see him. One day without him and the camp is in shambles, one way or another, and as much as I hate to admit it, his presence alone is a comfort. It holds us together in a very strange way.
''We've been afraid of them for far too long,'' he continues, ''And why? Because of their knives and spears. I don't know about you. I'm tired of being afraid.''
Clarke and Bellamy empty entire bags of firearms and ammunition right before our eyes. It takes me a moment to understand what I'm seeing, then another to wonder if it's safe to be dropping it all onto the floor. The crowd is in an uproar with cheers of celebration. The sounds rush over me, the excitement at what I'm seeing covering my skin with goosebumps. Under the excitement, I still feel that freezing fear, however masked it may be at the moment. This changes everything. This makes everything real. This means we will no longer hide and pretend nothing's going on, when doing that has been so damn comfortable.
''These are weapons, okay?! Not toys,'' Clarke warns, ''And we have to be prepared to give them up to the guard when the dropships come, but until then, they're gonna help keep us safe.''
''And there are plenty more where these came from,'' Bellamy cheers, ''Tomorrow we start training, and if the Grounders come, we're gonna be ready to fight.''
Is his courage real? If it is, I'm grateful for it. If it is, I want to have it.
*
The guns are moved to the main tent and nobody is to touch them until permission is given for training in the morning. Finn looks less than pleased as he watches the guns being carried, and I realize that I have no idea how to feel. I feel like I'm feeling everything at once, and anything is better than fear.
''Wars destroyed us once, and now we're picking up guns again,'' Finn says to me.
''It sucks,'' I admit, ''But we don't have a choice.''
''We always have a choice,'' he insists.
''I don't think those people wanted anything less than killing us when they threw that spear at Jasper, Finn,'' I try and reason with him, ''That was far from our choice.''
''Wouldn't you defend your own home if someone trespassed?'' he asks me, ''Wouldn't you defend this camp if it had been the other way around?''
''You really defending them now?'' I ask, incredulously.
''I'm not defending them,'' he argues, ''I'm being rational.''
''I think I'd ask questions first, shoot later,'' I reply, and I don't know why I'm suddenly getting so angry - at Finn of all people, ''Which is far from what they even considered.''
I stomp away just to avoid an argument with the one person I genuinely care about in this bloody camp. Finn is the one person I've had smooth sailing with since we got here, and the one friend and ally I feel like I might actually count on. I don't want to jeopardize that. His kindness and pacifism is what I love about him, and it's what makes him Finn Collins. But when it's kindness at his own damn expense, it's time to re-evaluate. Of course I'm angry - I'm angry at all of this, at everything that's been happening. I'm angry at Earth and at the Grounders and half the people in this camp and a lot of people still on the Ark and I'm so bloody angry. I don't need Finn to add to it.
I take my bow and seek solitude, to try and fix it up a bit further and maybe try to make a few more crappy arrows without fletching or a proper nock. I get too frustrated at arrow number three. The damn things won't fly properly anyway.
''Piece of shit,'' I growl as I break the arrow, snapping it in two with such sweet satisfaction.
''Who pissed you off?'' Miller asks as he sits down next to me.
''Life,'' I offer.
He nods like he can relate, and we sit in silence for a while.
''You made that?'' he finally asks.
''Today.''
''That's... wack.''
''Shut up, Miller,'' I whine, but he laughs.
''Ehh, you can't be having a worse night than me,'' he offers. I know he thinks the Grounder escaping is all on him and him alone.
''You were high as a kite, it's not your fault,'' I say, feeling up my bow again. I don't think it's that wack.
''We're fucking dead meat,'' Miller says casually, like it's nothing out of the ordinary, leaning his head back against the wall. Even though the fires are burning at camp, it's still cold where we're sitting, asses on the ground and backs against the metal.
''Plot twist - this guy decides not to tell on us out of his weird obsession with Octavia,'' I suggest, to which Miller chuckles whole-heartedly.
''Yeaaah, we ain't that lucky,'' he says with a resigned smile.
''Hold this for me,'' I hand him over the bow as I see Bellamy leaving his tent. I want details on the depot, on everything they saw, and on every plan he now has sneaking through his head. I hate being in the dark, and I hate not being in control.
''Any trouble today?'' I ask him as I catch up with him, though the way he walks seems like he's kind of trying to get rid of me.
''Nothing we couldn't handle,'' he strides on outside the camp.
''Bellamy, stop,'' I try to grab his arm, ''Wait.''
''What?'' he turns around to face me. He isn't exactly angry but he looks... frustrated, maybe. Irritated? Definitely pissed to an extent. But not really at me. I can't put a finger on it, and it's confusing the hell out of me.
''I haven't talked to you properly in days,'' I say, ''A lot happened today. I need to know.''
''You'll know what you need to know, when everyone else knows it as well,'' he replies. I'm not sure if he meant to sound so cold.
''Is that how it is?'' I ask, ''From Thank you, Tasha, for all the support all the damn time to You're just any of them.''
''Well I guess I was wrong in the first place because the one day I trust you with the camp, the Grounder's gone,'' he spits.
I slap him so instinctively, it's done before I realize it. Then I shove him, then try to shove him again all the while growling stuff about things not being my fault and him knowing it. I want him to fight me - I really want him to fight me, but the next I know he has his hands around my wrists and I can't punch anymore. Bellamy is stronger than me, but my anger is unmatched. I could burn the world down.
But then he kisses me again. And this time it's not sweet and comfortable and warm - it's hungry and wild and carnal; and I'm kissing him back like my mind has no control over my body anymore. And there is teeth clashing and lip biting and at one point I think I'll actually draw blood. His hands are everywhere on me, and I want to literally rip his shirt off him. This is my anger and his frustration mixed with mutual desire. My entire body is burning up; my core is on fire. I don't know how exactly we move further away from camp for some privacy, I couldn't ever possibly recall a moment of it.
His lips only leave mine when they're on my neck - open wet kisses and teeth and bites that hurt just enough to bring me pleasure, and pretty soon this is no longer a struggle for some dominance, because I'm absolutely tamed the moment he starts sucking down that trail of hickeys I'll have to think about hiding tomorrow. He hoists my legs up to wrap around his waist and slams me against the tree as though to re-affirm it. The feel of the rough tree bark isn't the most comfortable but damn it I'm angry and hungry for him and even that pain feels good, really good - the roughness of it all. Feeling his hardness against my core is almost flattering - his whole body seems to vibrate like it's on the verge of an implosion because of me. It gives me an odd sort of satisfaction that that's one area where I have the upper hand.
I try to mentally kick myself, but my brain isn't working at all. Articles of clothing are discarded, some just rolled up or moved out of the way, some may have ripped in places as his strong arms have dealt with them - I don't care. I don't care about anything at the moment except him. I want him like nothing ever before.
When I feel his fingers, his long, strong, calloused fingers, where he should be - all of him, entirely - I lose it. I am a moaning, writhing mess. I am so embarrassingly wet and at his mercy, it's a good thing I'm not really thinking.
And when he enters me, the feeling of him filling and stretching me, the sweet subtle pain underlying the pleasure has me seeing stars. His hands are still everywhere, his lips are still everywhere, his breath is still everywhere. How he does this to me is beyond me; but every single thing he does sets fire to every nerve in my body.
When we both come undone, we don't part. We stay like that for a few long moments, just kissing. Why, I have no idea. The anger is gone. The frustration is gone. And when we finally do pull away, he helps me with my clothes.
And then, once we're dressed and fully back to reality, it gets a little weird.
''Well, that happened,'' I say lightly, trying to fix up my hair a bit, ''We should... probably go back to camp now.''
''Unless you wanna stay a bit,'' he offers, which catches me a bit off-guard.
''Umm, sure, I guess,'' I say, with zero conviction. Did he even hear me? Maybe it's better if he didn't, I decide. I sound like a weirdo. So I just sit next to him.
We sit there, shrouded in the shadow of the tree where hardly any moonlight reaches through, and the cold from the ground is slowly setting in again now that we're not all heated up anymore. He spreads his legs a bit so I can sit with my back against his chest and he can wrap his arms around me and we'll both be warm. Without word, I comply.
This is dangerous. Very dangerous. Far more dangerous than any kind of sex. But still I let myself do it, ignoring the little voice inside my head that warns me against all kinds of possible heartbreaks. And we sit there in silence for a while, calm, warm - I'm almost lulled into sleep by his breathing and heartbeat. He plays with my fingers. A knot ties in the pit of my stomach. Very dangerous.
''We found that depot today but it's not livable,'' he says after a while, breaking the silence, ''It's pretty disgusting actually.''
''Well, at least we have the guns,'' I say. I silently appreciate his effort to make-up for earlier. It warms my heart how kind he is, even though he's absolutely terrified of showing it to people.
''There's some more left, blankets and other stuff too,'' he says, ''We couldn't carry much back just the two of us.''
''Finn and I can go next. He'll be feeling good as new soon,'' I offer, ''We can take Miller and Harper too.''
''Dax tried to kill me today.''
For a moment, I'm mute. He's said it so casually that it could have escaped me - the gravity of the statement doesn't hit me instantly. When it does hit me, when the horror of it settles, I struggle to find the right words. What could I possibly say to that? I have so many questions, yet none of them matter at the same time. I opt ofr a shriek.
''What?!?'' I turn around to face him. He looks back only for a moment before his eyes drop. He doesn't want to betray anything, but he can't help it. The tiredness and sadness and fear is oozing out of him.
''I killed him instead,'' he says, almost under his breath.
''What happened?'' I finally ask.
''You know how Shumway fixed me up with the dropship deal?'' he starts.
''Yeah.''
''Well, it seems like he used Dax to try anc cut his loose ends,'' Bellamy shakes his head, ''Promised him he'd make sure his mother's on the next dropship.''
''Ark scum,'' I growl. The hatred in the pit of my stomach is almost tangible.
''The good news is,'' he says, ''Jaha pardoned me. For coming clean.''
My grin must be wider than he's ever seen it, because he can't help smiling right back either. And I just slam a kiss against his lips like it's the most instinctive thing in the world.
''And I was ready to leave too,'' he adds against my lips.
''Leave? Where the hell would you have gone?'' I ask, then kiss him again, ''Like hell you're leaving us.''
''I'll take that as you're happy for me, sharpie,'' he chuckles against my lips.
I pull back a bit, half-awkwardly. ''Yeah. I guess I am,'' I say, sitting back against his chest.
''To be sure, I wasn't complaining,'' he adds before he places a kiss against my neck. I try not to melt. Then he kisses my shoulder, ever so gently, his fingers still interlaced with mine. Something drops inside of me. This is dangerous.
''We should go,'' I say, practically wiggling myself out of the situation before it escalates, ''It's late and we're up for an early start tomorrow.''
He looks at me for a moment, almost like he's studying me. I offer him a small smile, though it's hardly sincere. He probably reads right through it as he offers me that same smile back. ''Okay,'' he says, before giving me a hand and helping me get up. When his hand leaves mine, I instantly crave it back.
Very dangerous.