"Whatever." The words come on a scoff as Octavia turns away from her brother, heads down the ramp into the still - darkening forest. The ire in her tone is nothing but a desperate bid to cover her hurt with rage, something she's been particularly good at for years now, at least when it comes to Bellamy. "I should've died in that gorge anyway."

"Octavia." Bellamy's voice is harsh, but it does not earn a flinch. Her shoulders tense a little more and Octavia pauses with some reluctance. She'd come to the ground for him this time, had somehow, deep down, harbored hope that he would be her brother again - be in her corner as he had once done. Her pride, her reluctance to trust, has been choking her. It won't let her tell him that she needs him ( Don't be a fool. You don't need him or anyone else, whispers Blodreina, tucked away in a corner of her mind but ever present, ever suffocating ), that she's tried so hard to pull the jagged pieces of her life back together without him but it's not enough anymore. Once, a foolish child, she had thought she'd always have Bellamy there, but -

But he's speaking again, and these thoughts are naught but weakness. She can't afford weakness, not on his behalf when he's made it so apparent that she's nothing to him, as he perhaps should be to her. "I don't want you dead, Octavia. That's not why-"

Incredulous laughter rises in her throat, forcing its way up, and she turns to face him once more. "That a joke? You're sending me out here to die."

Something in his face falters, crumples. He hesitates for what seems like an eternity, and she's just about to leave again when suddenly his voice is there again, soft, wavering this time. "Please come inside."

"What?"

"I want to - I want to talk to you, O. Please come inside."

It's because she doesn't want to go out into the woods on her own to die, not really, that her feet carry her back to the door and past her brother, but the feeling flooding the pit of her stomach is hardly relief. It is panic, rather. I want to talk to you. Again and again he's asked her, never in such simple and clear terms, what had happened down there, expressed his desire to be there for her, because Bellamy, in his heart of hearts, still thinks she's the girl under the floor and doesn't understand that he can't take it away. He can't wash away her sins, can't relieve her of her burden, not now. She is dimly conscious of his hand on her arm, tugging her toward a remote corner a bit away from the others. That's what he wants, alright. To ask her about -

"Why are you like this?"

Green eyes dart toward him and Octavia finds herself momentarily speechless. The answer she gives, in the end, is the one that she always does when faced with such questions, even by herself. "I became what I had to to keep my people alive."

"Can't you just - ?" Bellamy seems to be struggling for words, and Octavia watches him, feeling both all too present and far too distant, as if she is watching someone else. She is no longer sure whether or not she wants to keep this from him, expend the energy to do so.

She is so, so tired.

Blodreina can no longer be what drives her, what makes her. She is Octavia Blake and she wants her brother, but it doesn't seem she can have him anymore. His love for her has run dry.

"I don't know how to stop." Even her words sound far away. There is a childish urge within her to throw herself into his arms and cling to his jacket as she might have done years ago. She doesn't move. "The Dark Year broke us all."

What are you doing? There's Blodreina again, the words a hiss.

Love is weakness. Love is weakness. Love is weakness.

To depend on others, that is a weakness in itself. She could only trust herself in the bunker. That's what she'd learned from the others letting her down again and again. Bellamy will only do the same - has already done the same, even if he hadn't meant to do so.

There's a selfish, irrational thought that has nagged at her every time he's tried to lift her burden, every time he's stared at her with those pained, judging dark eyes. If you hadn't gone to the island to get Raven, if you hadn't left me, you would've been here. I wouldn't have been alone. You would've been with me like you were supposed to. It presses in on her again, and she forces it down.

"Octavia, what -?" She wonders how many times he'll cut himself off. He's done it again and again. Empty, resigned, she waits for him to get to the point.

"What the hell is the Dark Year?"

[ A / N ] okay, so, before i write them talking about the dark year, i just... want to see if there's any interest in that as it will be an undertaking and a half. there's a lot to unpack there. so if you guys could let me know if you're interested in reading that, please just let me know and if i get any, i'll write that in part 2.