AN: Been a while, but here's a slightly longer than normal update to make up for it? Also, Happy (Belated) Birthday to TheMashMonster - hope you enjoy!.
Chapter Sixteen: Friends from Odd Places
Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her arms, legs, back, eyes. Even her nose was hurting. All this couldn't stop Isobel's overwhelming joy, her smile wide and unfailing.
"You have no sense of self-preservation. You have a complete disregard for your own life," Octavia continued. Her lecture had been long, starting when Isobel had proven to have some sense about her after waking. "I mean, I get that you want to help people, but you need to stop and think sometimes –"
Octavia had been going on about how impulsive, reckless, and stupid she was. Isobel was so happy, she didn't even both to mention how most of the adjectives Octavia was using meant the same thing.
"I think she gets it," muttered Monty, who had been pulling sarcastic faces behind Octavia's back for the duration of the rant.
"Just let her run out of air," replied Jasper, who had stood vigil between Isobel and the door, but with no lack of amusement on his face for the situation.
Isobel was overjoyed. She would take a thousand lectures without time to breathe between them. She would let Octavia stand and chew her out for hours upon hours and the smile wouldn't falter for a second.
Octavia was alive.
Nothing could burst her bubble now; not the lecture, not the pain, and certainly not the brush with death.
Somehow, some way, in defiance of all Isobel believed to be true, Octavia was alive.
"Stop smiling when I'm mad at you!" the brunette finally snapped, huffing and folding her arms.
"I can't help it," Isobel beamed, joyful tears burning in her eyes. "I'm just so happy to see you."
The words succeeded in deflating Octavia's wrath – though that hadn't been her intention – and the younger girl didn't pause in surging forwards and wrapping Isobel in a hug. The redhead hissed for a moment, an instinctive reaction to the pain, but she only held tighter when Octavia tried to pull away. Her tears fell and she didn't care to wipe them away.
"Issy, I'm hurting you," she grumped, trying again – though very half-heartedly – to pull back from the hug.
"I don't care," the redhead said into Octavia's shoulder.
"Oh, I see how it is. Octavia's getting all the love," she heard Jasper snicker. Shuffling until she could see him over the brunette's shoulder, she met his gaze with a grin.
"You're next."
When Isobel eventually released Octavia, Jasper wasted no time in bundling himself between them, wrapping his arms around Isobel. He was careful to be gentle, but Isobel was not, squeezing as tightly as her weakened limbs could manage.
"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered into her neck before pulling back. Isobel didn't have the chance to respond before she had Monty's arms wrapped around her.
"We were so worried," the other teen said, holding tighter than Jasper had.
Monty pulled away and the trio stood in a line at Isobel's side. The redhead looked them over, quickly clocking the diminishing bruise on Jasper's face – the same one Murphy had given him – as well as the shadows around Monty's eyes and the near-even weight distribution in Octavia's stance where previously she'd had a bad leg.
"Been a few days, then, huh?" she realised, almost laughing at their stunned expressions. "Jasper's bruise is almost gone, and Octavia's leg was working on sheer adrenaline last time I saw her. Now, you look like it's almost back to normal. Grounder did fix you up pretty good, though, so I'd wager three days?"
"Only two," another voice corrected and Isobel turned towards it. Finn and his girlfriend, who had introduced herself as Raven, were on her other side.
"I was close," she shrugged, smile lessening from beam to hardly more than a smirk. Her joy hadn't diminished any, but her energy was waning.
Finn's face had been the first she'd seen when she groggily opened her eyes, and it almost made Isobel want to snap them shut again. It was unfair, as Finn – while more than a little sanctimonious – was overall a nice guy. She might even like him, were it not for the hovering. But Isobel had thought she'd awoken to a world without Octavia in it, and seeing Finn hadn't made anything better. She'd perked up a little when Jasper and Monty came into view, then she'd all but leapt from the bed upon seeing Octavia alive.
It was only upon sitting up that she realised her shirt was gone, leaving her upper half clothed only in a stained bra. The boys were quick to look away, while Octavia and Raven helped her into a new, grey t-shirt. Being too weak to dress herself stung a little, but Isobel had accepted the assistance without complaint.
"What did I miss, anyway?" Isobel asked, glancing around the group. "You certainly weren't here before," she added, eyes on Raven, who smile.
"I came down in a pod," she explained.
"That was you falling from the sky, then?" she hummed. "Some of the girls thought you might have been shampoo."
So, maybe she was still lightheaded and more than a little out-of-it. No one mentioned the odd comment, even if Monty had to bite down a grin and Jasper turned his head to hide a laugh.
"Abby Griffin sent me to see how things were on the ground. People's wristbands were failing, but we were convinced it wasn't because everyone was dying," Raven clarified, also side-stepping the odd remark.
"You were right," the redhead nodded. "So, you have a way on contacting them? I can't imagine you'd be sent down here without one."
"I have a radio," she confirmed, gesturing over her shoulder to where it was set up, silent for the moment. "It took a while to get it working, but we managed to talk to the Ark last night. Abby talked Clarke through how to save you."
"Lucky me," Isobel huffed, hand ghosting over the wound on her abdomen. "Fall damage?"
"…No," she replied at length, looking around as though the judge the group's opinion on what she should say next. "Water damage."
"You landed in the water?"
"Nope," she sighed, biting the figurative bullet. "Bellamy Blake took the radio and threw it in the river."
"What?" she frowned. "Why…Why would he do that?"
"To stop us from contacting our people," Monty said bitterly. Isobel couldn't blame him. He'd worked so long and hard on trying to get communication going with just the wristbands. To have an answer so close, only to be ruined, must have been frustrating. "He got hundreds of people killed."
"What?" she said again. "How?"
"Resources on the Ark are running low," Raven told her. "It's why they needed to know if the Earth was safe. Oxygen, food, water… We're running out of everything up there. I couldn't tell them Earth was okay, so people got spaced to conserve resources. We saw the other side of it from here."
"Apparently, he tried to kill Jaha," Octavia took over explaining. Again, Isobel was shocked. "It was how he bought his way onto the dropship, so he could keep an eye on me."
"Is Jaha…?"
"Alive? Yeah," Jasper confirmed. "Looks like he's outta luck with the killing thing, whether it's a panther or a person."
She frowned a little, the phrasing tugging at her memory, but whatever she was trying to remember seemed just out of reach.
"Panther?" Raven queried, answered with quiet laughter from the others, though Jasper looked a little queasy. No surprise, considering the circumstances of the panther story.
"Long story," Monty waved off, "but short version is that we were stalked by a panther. Bellamy tried to shoot it when it attacked him, but Wells had taken his gun. He used up all the ammo, missed every shot. Luckily for him, Isobel shoved Bellamy outta the way and killed it."
Panther. Shot. Heavy. Blood. Red. Wildcat.
Isobel shot up, gasping when the sudden movement pulled on her stiches, too weak to resist when Jasper and Octavia pushed her back down.
"Murphy!" she cried, not bothering to use her minimal energy to struggle back upright. "Did anyone go after him? Did anyone find him?"
"We've been a little busy," Jasper said, shaking his head. "There was the radio stuff, then you and Octavia were missing, then the storm… Why does it matter?"
"He's out there, probably captured by Grounders!" she worried, pressing a hand to her side when it started throbbing. Dully, she heard Raven get up and leave, but didn't particularly care about the other girl's movements. "They could be hurting him. For – For information! About us."
Octavia eyed her sceptically, like she knew Isobel's concern wasn't solely for the information Murphy held, but she didn't call her on it.
"…think she tore her stiches," she heard Raven's voice returning, glancing to the door to see her and Clarke entering.
"Hey," Clarke smiled, relieved at another live saved. "Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"
"Alive," Isobel replied shortly, knowing it was probably as positive as she could get, considering her current situation.
"Well, you have head trauma, two stab wounds to your abdomen almost on top of each other, you're probably dehydrated, and you were poisoned," Clarke listed curtly. "I'll take 'alive'."
Without further explanation, the blonde moved closer, lifting her shirt to check the wounds on her stomach. She frowned when she saw the blood seeping through the bandages, quickly unravelling them to check the stitches, huffing when she saw that – as Raven had suspected – Isobel had managed to pop two stiches on one wound, and four on the other.
"I'm going to have to redo these," she muttered. "I don't have anything to numb the pain…"
"It's fine. Just do it," Isobel allowed.
"We have moonshine," Monty piped up, turning to grab the bottle of clear liquid on the table beside him. Clarke tutted, but seemed to hold back whatever she wanted to say. Isobel figured it out all the same.
"That's probably the best disinfectant we have to hand," she sighed. "Would be a waste to drink it, just for a few stiches. I'm fine, let's just get it over with."
"Okay," nodded Clarke, seeming relieved that she'd declined the alcohol.
"So, someone fill me in," Isobel requested, eyeing the needle and thread as Clarke began disinfecting them. "Two days down here is basically a year in Ark Time. What did I miss?"
"Big storm," Jasper said first. "Everyone had to come in the dropship. Got crowded fast, especially since everyone had to stay on the second level."
"Why's that?" she asked, hissing when the blonde began cleaning up her wound, pressing a moonshine-damp piece of cloth over it to slow the bleeding and sterilise the area.
She looked up from where she had been watching Clarke's hands when no one answered her. Their expressions were varied, but no one seemed in a hurry to enlighten her. Jasper and Monty had gone a little pale, the former holding a stubborn set in his jaw while the latter looked guilty. Octavia seemed beyond angry, barely contained rage swirling in the tension around her eyes. Clarke was studiously focused on holding the cloth to Isobel's side. Raven had moved away to fiddle with her radio.
Eventually, Finn sighed, deciding to be the one to speak up.
"Well, you were getting fixed up down here," he started benignly. "People were getting loud and Clarke got jostled a few times, so Raven ordered everyone up."
"Makes sense," Isobel nodded, eyeing him as though her stare alone could prompt what everyone was so reluctant to say. "The third level?"
"Bellamy set up a torture cell," Octavia spat. While her eyes screamed anger, her voice was pain and disappointment.
"Torture? Who?"
"The grounder," Finn said before Octavia could reply. "A few people went to grab him after we got you and Octavia back here."
This time, Isobel joined the silence. Her mind was turning rapidly.
The grounder. Her saviour and her kidnapper. He'd fed her, tied her up, knocked her out, bandaged her. The man who had both taken and healed Octavia. He had tried to keep them both, for whatever reason. Two injured girls, both of whom he'd helped. Now, it seemed, he was their prisoner. She wasn't sure what to make of that.
The first jab of the needle brought her out of her thoughts and she winced as she looked down.
Clarke had said two stomach wounds. She only remembered getting one. She didn't remember getting poisoned.
"What happened when you guys came to get me?" she asked, the words clipped as she tried to breathe through the pain of getting stitched up, deciding to get back to the torture issue in a moment. "I remember…Octavia escaped. I was injured, couldn't go with her. The grounder came back. I knocked him out. Followed Octavia. I…I thought I saw you die," she said, looked to her brunette friend with tears in her eyes, and not just from the pain of the needle.
"What?" gasped Octavia.
"I saw a spear…I was too far away, but I saw it pin someone to a tree. A girl, dark hair…"
"Roma," Finn corrected. "It was Roma. A group of us came after you two, and some of them didn't make it."
"Oh," she frowned, not sure how to feel about that. She didn't really know Roma, but she was saddened by the loss of another life. "I was too far to see. I only knew Octavia was out there. Then, the grounder grabbed me. I was bleeding a lot, passed out when we got back to the cave."
"You don't remember anything else?" Spacewalker prompted, moving closer to her, close enough to rest his hands at the edge of the make-shift bed they had her laying on.
"Not really," she shrugged, glancing down again as Clarke finished her stiches, tying off the threat. Her stomach throbbed, but it was better than leaving it to bleed. "Flashes, maybe. I remember…noise. Panic. People fighting. Then pain. I felt like I was dying."
She stopped recalling aloud, then, since the next thing she thought she remembered was Bellamy holding her fast, confusion and pain swirling in a chaotic mess, Clarke and Monty's voices, then Octavia's, then nothing. She wasn't sure how much of it was real, how much was conjured, but she knew she didn't remember getting stabbed a second time.
"How did this happen?" she questioned, waving a hand down towards her stomach. "I mean, I remember the first one. A mix of stupidity and bravery that's becoming Standard Isobel lately. I do not remember getting stabbed a second time, or getting poisoned."
"When we went back to get the grounder…" Finn trailed off, clearly trying to find a way to recap the even succinctly. "It got messy," he decided. "He tried to attack me, you woke up and got in between us. He stabbed you instead of me."
"Huh," Isobel mused, "saving you boys is becoming something of a habit."
"It's that Stupid-Brave thing again," Octavia muttered, smirking when Isobel swung a scowl her way.
"Right," she huffed, "I guess that brings us right back to the torture cell part of the story. What the hell happened there?"
"Bellamy decided to grab him and torture him for information," Octavia told her, fury rising again. "I told him not to. I said to leave him alone, that he'd helped us, but Bellamy did it anyways. He's still up there."
"Bellamy?"
"The grounder," the younger woman corrected. Isobel frowned at the news.
"How is he?"
"Why do you care?" Jasper snapped, confused and angry all at once. "This guy kidnapped you, stabbed you, poisoned you. He nearly killed you."
"It's not that simple," she sighed, shaking her head when a wave of dizziness hit her. The conversation, mixed with the high emotions in the room and the pain of getting stitched up again, was wearing her down quickly. She needed sleep. "We need to let him go."
"I agree!" announced Octavia loudly. It seemed to kick of an argument, one that must have been brewing for a while. Jasper wanted the grounder to suffer exactly what he, and his people, had put them through. Octavia wanted him released. Monty tried to play peacekeeper.
Only Finn noticed Isobel drift off, quickly bringing it to Clarke's attention. The blonde assured him it was normal, then hushed the room to let the redhead sleep.
{-}
Bellamy listened to the voices beneath him. He couldn't make out everything they said, but he could tell who was talking most of the time. When the voices rose, he got a clearer idea of what was being said. Octavia and Jasper, he realised quickly. Some of their argument reached him and he grit his teeth at the back-and-forth about the grounder's fate. It wasn't up to either of them, but man did he wish it wasn't up to him, either.
He looked up blankly, feeling eerily empty as he stared at the grounder. He was unconscious, or seemed that way, swaying against his bonds as his body was forced to stay upright.
Though he'd wanted to go down when he had heard Isobel wake up, he hadn't dared. It had been two days since the storm. The camp was almost back to normal, the people almost calm again, and Bellamy was being a coward. He hadn't been to see Isobel yet.
There was one attempt, when she'd first woken up and Clarke had off-hand mentioned it. When he got there, he hadn't been greeted by the redhead, though. She was unconscious, apparently had only woken up for a brief moment and was really out of it the entire time. Instead of Isobel, he'd been treated to Octavia's cold shoulder.
He could admit to himself that he'd fled.
Not sure if Isobel had properly woken up yet, Bellamy had resigned himself to staying away from the first level of the dropship, as much as was possible, anyway. He hated when Octavia was upset with him, hated the silent treatment, the anger, the withering looks. Before, he's thought the worst of their fighting had happened in the confines of their quarters, when a cooped-up Octavia had begged and pleaded and cried for a moment of freedom and hated him for saying no.
Looking back, he wished he had realised how weak that 'hatred' really was. Now, he was terrified he'd actually lose her. He couldn't take any of it back, though, and he wouldn't.
If he hadn't captured the grounder, brought him back, chained him up… Isobel would be dead. There would have been no cure for the poison. He couldn't bring himself to regret actions that led to her life being saved, though he wished there could have been another way.
He felt a little like a shell these days. Having volunteered for the bulk of guard duty, mainly so he could stay away from everyone's judging eyes, he spent most of his time on the third level of the dropship. Though the duty did help him avoid the stares, it also came with facing what he'd done, and help to do.
The grounder was bloody and grimy and his eyes – closed, now, thankfully – would bore into Bellamy's soul sometimes.
The hatch opening stirred Bellamy from his thoughts, but he was mostly numb to it by this point. He only hoped it wasn't Octavia coming to verbally tear into him again. He didn't think he could take it. It closed again behind whoever was coming up, the person coming to stand in Bellamy's field of vision.
"Did you talk to The Ark?" he asked when he saw it was Miller. The teen had offered to take the unpleasant task of breaking the deaths in their group to waiting families. Bellamy was grateful to him for it.
"Told Diggs' mom the news, John's dad…" he paused, sighing and placing his hands on his hips. "Supposed to talk to Roma's parents later."
"Thanks for doing that," he expressed as genuinely as he could in his dazed state. "I owe you."
"Telling all these parents that their kids were murdered by grounders," Miller started, turning to look at the one they had prisoner. Bellamy felt a stone sink in his stomach, but by now it was only joining the others already there. "I just wish we could say we were getting some justice."
"We're not killing him," Bellamy stated almost before Miller had finished. It was the only decision he had made in the matter. Sheer dumb luck had kept him from being a murderer so far, and it wasn't a path he wanted to travel down.
Miller took it well enough, though Bellamy could tell he didn't like the answer, just by the tension in his body. Nodding, the younger man turned to the grounder, grabbing a handful of the berries that had been part of lunch. Bellamy honestly couldn't remember if it was his, or one of their attempts to feed the grounder, and he vaguely wondered if the lack of recognition should worry him.
"You were a lot scarier when you had that face paint on," Miller uttered, lifting his hand and crushing the berries against the grounder's cheek. His consequences were immediate, the grounder's head flinging to crack against his face, knocking him onto his back.
Bellamy didn't react, except to look between Miller and their prisoner. He knew there should be some punishment, but Miller had provoked him, and Bellamy was reluctant to dole out any further torture. Withholding meals wouldn't work, since the grounder wasn't eating, and Bellamy thought he might be sick if he had to order or inflict any more pain.
So, when Miller rose, fists clenched and ready to swing, Bellamy stopped him. He couldn't fix what had been done, but it could keep it from getting worse.
{-}
Octavia sat beside Isobel, watching her chest rise and fall in sleep. It was comforting, after so many close calls, to have the evidence right in front of her that Isobel was alive.
After Isobel had fallen asleep again, the others went about their day. Clarke needed to talk to the council to update them on the situation on the ground, and Monty and Jasper had been assigned to the foraging station, prepping what others had gathered to eat. Raven was still checking around the camp for scraps she could use to improve their communication, and had even talked about maybe getting a heating system going.
The only two that remained were Octavia, keeping vigil, and Finn, who had dozed off a while go, still determined not to leave the redhead's side. Octavia knew gratitude, knew that Isobel had saved Finn's life, but she thought this might be a bit much. The constant lingering was bound to get on Isobel's nerves sooner rather than later, especially if she was kept cooped up much longer.
Boots on the ladder caught her attention, but she didn't bother looking. Miller hadn't come down yet and Bellamy had been up there for hours. She knew it would be him, leaving Miller to stand guard.
"She woke up," Octavia said once his feet had hit the ground. "She was awake for about an hour."
"No one thought to tell me?" he asked, frustration clear in his tone. She knew he'd want to see her, want to talk to her and know she was okay, but Octavia wanted things too and, petty as it might be, Bellamy was denying her, so she would deny him.
"I'll be sure to come up and let you know next time," she said, "so long as I see him."
"No," he denied immediately. Her jaw clenched, but she still didn't look at him. "I let him live. Isn't that enough?"
"He saved my life," she retorted immediately, turning to him to make sure he was paying attention. "Isobel's, too, and yours."
"I know you see it that way," he shot back, and Octavia was so tired of his contrary attitude, "but –"
"That's the way it is," she interrupted. She didn't raise her voice, didn't stand to confront him, but kept her voice strong.
"He poisoned Isobel."
"You attacked him first, and it was an accident," she defended.
"If not Isobel, it would have been Finn."
"You attacked him first," she repeated firmly.
"…He's still dangerous," Bellamy said at length.
"Only because of what you did."
"Whatever twisted connection you think you have with that animal, forget it. You don't get to see him. End of conversation."
Bellamy turned to leave and Octavia sighed, falling back in her seat. She wanted to snap at him, hurl all the hurtful words clinging to the tip of her tongue, but then Bellamy paused beside Isobel. His fingers brushed her arm, eyes locked to her face, and he deflated a little.
"I don't want to fight with you," he confessed, quieter than before. "I know what you think we should do, and I know you don't like what I'm doing. I don't like what I'm doing."
"Then don't do it," she urged, latching to his admission. "Let him go, Bell."
"We're in this thing, now," he continued, glancing at her, hand still lingering near Isobel. "If we let him go, he brings his people back here to take revenge. I need…I need to think, O. I need to go through our options. This isn't just my decision. It's for everyone's safety."
"Bellamy –"
"No one will hurt him. He's getting meals. I just need time to think. A few more days."
It wasn't perfect, but it was better than the silence she had before. She looked at Isobel and wondered if the redhead was a calming influence on her brother, just as she was for her. She wondered if Bellamy, too, heard Isobel in his head, whispering peace and compromise.
"Can I see him?" she asked, instead of demanding. Bellamy didn't answer right away, so he was at least thinking about it. "Bell?"
"Not today, and not on your own," he said and her eyes lit up. "You always need at least two other people with you. The guard we keep on him, whoever that is, and take someone else. Take Jasper, or Monty, or Finn, if you have to. Don't get too close to him. Don't –"
He cut himself off, looking at her, the siblings finally meeting eyes. Bellamy softened at the relief on his little sister's face.
"Use your head, O," he urged. "You're smart. You know how to keep yourself out of trouble. Just don't…Don't get hurt. I could never forgive myself."
"I'll be careful," she nodded, "I promise."
Bellamy sighed, any fight, any tension draining out of him. He looked at his sister with a weak smile.
"I love you. Whatever fights we have, however many arguments…I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Bellamy," Clarke called, walking in and interrupting the moment. Her gaze darted to Isobel for a moment, before back to Bellamy. His tension had returned.
"The answer is 'no'," he said firmly, starting to leave, "I'm still not talking to Jaha."
"Hey," she called as he moved past her, prompting him to turn and listen, "relax. That's not why I'm here."
"What, then?"
"The Ark found some old records that show a supply depot not too far from here."
"What kind of supplies?" he checked, intrigued. He knew as well as Clarke did that, for all their trying, they were running low on everything that mattered, and the creeping cold would keep them from hunting.
"The kind that might give us a chance to live through winter," she said, getting his full attention, and Octavia's, too. "I'm gonna go check it out. I could use backup."
"Why're you asking me?" Bellamy asked, suspicious. After everything, he felt like he would be the last person Clarke wanted to interact with.
"Well, because, right now, I don't feel like being around anyone I actually like," she snapped back, prompting an amused snort from him. He looked at Octavia, who half-smiled and mockingly crossed a finger over her heart, sealing her promise not to see the grounder alone.
"I'll get my stuff," he nodded, feeling better about leaving Octavia if she was agreeing to be careful. "Meet you in ten."
"Has she woken up again, at all?" the blonde asked Octavia, tilting her head towards Isobel.
"For a couple minutes. She had some water, and was out again almost instantly. She's been going like that for a while."
"Okay, good," she sighed, relieved. "I think she's through the worst of it."
Clarke smiled, glancing between the siblings, then left.
After another stolen look at Isobel, Bellamy did the same.
{-}
When Clarke had spoken to Isobel about the things to be aware of – infection, torn stitches, numbness in the area – while healing, she hadn't mentioned the deadliest side-effect of her wound. Boredom. Isobel was going to die of boredom.
A typical day for the redhead would consist of wandering the camp, checking the borders, climbing the dropship for an arial view of their surroundings, maybe heading out with a hunting party, or going with another group to the river for water. Do the arrows need restocking? Isobel could be found in the forest, foraging for wood and rocks and feathers to take to Sterling, who for some reason knew how to make them. Running low on clothes? Isobel would head off with a few volunteers to the river to clean the communal clothing pile. She would always be doing, rarely still, and hopping from place to place to keep herself busy.
Isobel's current day? Laying still. Healing, Clarke would say, consumes a lot of energy. For the sake of your health, your stitches, and my own mental wellbeing, you need to stay put.
The others tried to keep her entertained as best they could. Jasper would keep her updated on the running of the camp, faithfully reporting her advice and observations when needed. It's been a week since someone collected water to boil, we should really go out to the river and get some. Monty would sit, tinkering away at some device while dedicatedly filling the silence. Mindless chatter, mostly. Octavia had managed to scrounge up a deck of cards from somewhere, but they only knew three games between them and playing them repeatedly was beginning to wear thin.
Even Finn and Raven tried to curb her boredom, where they could. Raven took her through the ins and outs of radio maintenance, thinking – since she was stuck inside anyway – that Isobel could maybe be their on-hand radio tech for when she was busy with other things.
Unfortunately, the redhead did not have the same knack for mechanics as the older girl, and much of the process went over her head. Not to mention, the radio had been moved now, set up in a parachute-turned-tent just outside the dropship. Even if Isobel had been mechanically inclined, she was on strict orders to only get up when absolutely necessary, and never take more than a few steps at a time.
Finn waited on her hand and foot, making sure she always had enough to drink, enough to eat, someone to talk to. His near-constant presence made so little sense to Isobel, since they had barely been passing acquaintances a few days ago. She supposed he might feel some gratitude, since she had apparently saved his life, but she didn't remember doing it. Not to mention, the idea of being grateful to someone for that kind of thing was bewildering to her; a human life was in danger, so she instinctively stepped in. No thanks necessary.
Right now, though, she was alone.
Jasper and Monty were still busy with their duties, Raven had found some scraps she believed she could repurpose into a quicker water filtration system, Octavia had disappeared a while ago, needing to stretch her legs, and a reluctant Finn followed on the heels of a cranky Raven when she'd come to collect him. He had made sure to let her know to yell if she needed anything, but Isobel doubted she had the strength to raise her voice enough right now.
Rather than wait, she decided to simply grab some water herself, from the jug the others had set up.
It…did not go well.
Isobel had managed two steps before her legs started giving out, and she allowed herself to sink slowly to the ground rather than wait for the inevitable crumple that would surely follow. She breathed evenly, trying to work up the strength to get herself at least back up onto her 'bed' before Octavia or one of the others returned to lecture her, again, about taking it easy.
The doorway covering moved as someone entered and Isobel looked over sharply, hoping it wouldn't be Jasper or Monty – or worse, Octavia or Dr Clarke – but fortune was with her this time.
"Hey, Dax," she greeted, voice a little more strained than she thought it would be.
Dax startled, eyes darting before spotting her on the ground. Without a word, he walked over, leaned down, and helped her up onto the chair Octavia had claimed before. She was glad he didn't make her lay back down, and he seemed satisfied that she was at least sitting and off her feet.
"I dunno what Clarke told you, but I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be getting up."
"Don't snitch, okay?" she joked, half-smirking at him as she pressed a hand gently to her abdomen, trying to ease the throbbing that had started up again.
Rather than replying, Dax looked over in the direction she had been trying to go, spotting the water jug. He headed to it, poured her a cup, and came back, handing it to her. She smiled her thanks, appreciating that he was a man of few words, and sipped at it slowly.
"Didn't think you knew who I was," he mentioned after she'd finished half the cup. Isobel shrugged.
"I know who everyone is by this point, pretty much," she replied. "You're easy to remember, though. Very tall."
"That matters?" he asked, snorting at her reasoning.
"When you are up top of the dropship and looking down, tall people stand out a little more," she explained. "You're also one of the ones set up in the dropship rather than out in a tent. I hear your name a lot. Did you just come off meat station?" she questioned, looking at his slightly reddened hands.
"Yeah. It was my turn to talk to The Ark, and my shift was over by the time I finished talking to my mom. Wanted to grab something from my stuff while I had the chance."
She nodded and he moved up the ladder, heading to his spot on the second level, though now her mind was turning. The last half-conversation she had overheard from the tent had been a little odd. Thought it was difficult to make out voices, between the distance and the other noise going on around them, she had been able to deduce that, whoever Dax had spoken to, it wasn't his mother, and they had him agree to something.
When he reappeared, instead of going back outside, he came to her. He had a pack on his back, not bulging, but clearly not empty. There was a scrap metal knife tucked in a pocket at the front of it.
"People say you know all our secrets," he mentioned, sounding a little wary.
"Not all of them," she shrugged, playing off the topic lightly. It was true, she knew more than people often expected, but that was a mixture of actually listening, being in the right place at the right time, and her unerring ability to end up in the middle of thing.
"Can I ask you something?" he began with a slight frown, continuing before she could respond. "Why were you out there? I know you got hurt before you left; everyone saw Mbege drop you. It was stupid to go out there."
"I was, but no one else was going to," she hummed, leaning back a little in the chair. Dax saw the relaxed posture and decided to mimic it, dragging over the stool Finn had brought in at some point. "I went to find Murphy."
"Why? I thought Bellamy banished him."
"He did," she sighed. "This place, though… No one should be out there alone. I mean, Murphy knows a lot about us, and the grounders could get that information from him, and then we're in big trouble."
"That's the only reason?" he challenged and she snorted.
"Of course not. Despite what people might think, and his general personality, I actually like Murphy. He's an okay guy."
"I saw him piss on someone."
"I said 'okay', not 'good'. He's a jerk, but he's also a product of his upbringing, just like the rest of us."
"Yeah, I know. I met him, actually. In the Sky Box."
"How did that happen?"
"We were brought in and taught Earth Skills. I guess I know why, now. He was kinda the class clown. A bit of a dick, I guess, but funny. The instructor tried to kill him."
"What?" she gasped, not expecting the turn.
"Yeah," he sighed. "A bunch of us were able to get him off him. Not even sure what set him off. Just started tearing into him, then hitting him, then he was trying to choke him."
"I…I don't even know how to respond to that. That's awful."
"I don't think he deserved it."
"We don't deserve a lot of what happens to us," she muttered, mind swirling with this new information.
Dax nodded slowly, seeming to mull over her works. From the sudden silence, Isobel thought he would leave, but then he looked back up at her.
"Is it true you killed your dad?"
The question felt like a punch, right on her barely-healed stiches, with a slap in the face just to top it off. It actually knocked the breath out of her for a moment before she recovered, searching his face for anything malicious, anything to explain why he'd asked.
"I did," she confirmed, offering no excuses.
"Why?" he asked, giving her the chance to.
"I…I guess…I got tired of it," she struggled to explain. She felt so far removed from the situation now, and she was so different, she struggled sometimes to reconcile her choices from back then. "He was…a bad person. He beat me, didn't let me eat sometimes… Other people had it worse, I guess, but I didn't know about them. I knew about me, and my dad, and I knew I wanted it to be over."
"You spaced him, right?"
"It was convenient," she nodded. "Besides, I was twelve. You might have been a giant by the age of eight, but I was scrawny back then. Wouldn't have survived a fair fight."
"You're scrawny now," he muttered. Isobel could sense he was building to something, so she let the comment slide. "Would you do it again? Knowing what you know?"
"I couldn't say. I'm not in that place anymore. I don't really remember how it felt, what really drove me to do it. I remember what happened, and I remember what he did, but a lot of the feelings are gone now."
"I get that," he agreed. "I…I killed someone, too. It's why I got locked up. They stole from me, and I was mad, and I didn't realise my own strength. Then he was dead, and I was locked up."
The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so succinct, that Isobel wondered if he'd rehearsed the confession before telling her.
"What did he steal from you?" she asked. Dax looked so surprised by the question, she doubted anyone had cared to ask before.
"Rations. Usually lunch, but sometimes breakfast, too. He was a few years older than me, but not an adult yet. I was fourteen at the time."
"He was killing you, too, then," she mused. "Slower, but he was starving you to death. I'll bet he was from Alpha Station."
"He was," Dax confirmed, surprised by the guess. "How…?"
"I don't know you well, but you said he stole from you more than once. That says you didn't rush straight to violence. I'd wager you tried to tell someone, maybe a guard, but they don't care too much about an Alpha kid stealing from a Factory kid. Probably why the other guy thought he could get away with it. Fighting back was probably the only way you could get him to stop. It's a shame he died, but you couldn't do nothing."
"Exactly," he said, breath rushing out in relief.
"What about now?"
"Now?"
"Who did they ask you to kill?"
It was a guess, an educated guess, but still. He was a big guy, a murderer already, and he had someone he cared about back on The Ark. If someone could talk Bellamy, desperate but certainly not a killer, into shooting Jaha, they would have no qualms trying the same with Dax. It would be one of the leaders, either Bellamy or Clarke. She doubted it would be Clarke.
Dax's reaction – pure shock he was trying to disguise as confusion – gave away the truth. Now she just needed to know…
"Is it Bellamy?"
He shot up from his stool, angry and panicked, and Isobel fear for her life for a moment. Then he started pacing, running his hands through his hair, over his head.
"How the hell did you know that?"
"You basically told me," Isobel replied calmly. "If I had to guess, I'd say you were asked by the same guy who got Bellamy to shoot Jaha. Cover his tracks. What did he offer you?"
"That's a big leap, y'know," he tested her commitment to her guess. "I thought you said you didn't know everyone's secrets."
"I said I didn't know all of them," she corrected. "What did he offer you?"
The fight seemed to drain out of him, thankfully. Scrappy as she was, Isobel was in no position to fight off anyone, much less someone built like Dax. He fell back onto the stool, head in his hands, breathing deeply.
"Immunity for past crimes. A good assignment when everyone got here. My mom in the first group down."
"Jaha already gave us all immunity," she reminded him. He looked up at her, blinking slowly. "As a reward for being his guinea pigs, remember? On the video, he said we'd be forgiven of all crimes, if we survived."
"Oh, yeah. I guess I thought it would be a lie."
"I'd like to see him try to take it back, after everything that's happened. He'd have a rebellion on his hands," she scoffed. "The assignment part is unlikely. No offense, but people like us aren't getting cushy jobs. We don't have the training; we were locked up too young. Not to mention, the assignments from The Ark are for shit, now. Most of the others are going to have to rely on us to help them survive down here. They don't know where to go for the best hunting, or when and where it's safe to gather water and cross the river."
"Okay, so the assignment is bullshit, too. I still want my mom here."
"They'll be bringing everyone in batches. Probably medics first, engineers, farmers. People who can help build on what we have. Not to mention, the first few drops are going to be shaky until they figure it out. Remember our crash landing? You really want your mom on one of the first ships?"
Dax went quiet again. Isobel used the silence to think over her options. She hoped she could talk him out of his mission, because he seemed a nice enough guy and she would hate to rat him out to Bellamy and Clarke. She would, though. If she thought there was the tiniest chance he would leave here and still try to kill Bellamy, she'd stop him. Stitches be damned.
Then, she wondered why he'd gone out of his way to talk to her. He'd all but confessed, too. Maybe he was just looking for a reason not to?
"I already said yes."
"Well, that guy's not here, is he? He can't enforce it."
"He could hurt my mom."
"You need to tell someone, then. Tell Bellamy who it is, and what he tried to get you to do. Tell Clarke. Let them talk with Jaha, and get protection for your mom. The best way to look after her is to make sure as many people know as possible."
"Really?" he said doubtfully.
"Really," she confirmed. "Even if they don't completely believe you, it would throw suspicion on this guy. Suspicion leads to being watched, and being watched means he can't do shit. Makes him powerless."
"I guess," he considered.
"And Bellamy's not a bad guy."
"You said the same about Murphy."
"It's true for both of them. Bellamy's doing all he can to keep us alive, and safe. We might not agree with everything he does, but he's trying. He's in a tough situation, just like the rest of us. Has he ever done anything to you?" she asked, grasping for anything Dax might take as good enough to not go through with it.
"I'm not looking for reasons to kill him."
"I'm just giving you some not to do it. He's my friend. Wouldn't you do the same?"
She could tell Dax was thinking it over, but he was stopped from responding when the sheet went up again. Bellamy walked in, eyes immediately on the bed where she was supposed to be, before darting between where she and Dax and settled. Isobel was stunned into silence for a moment.
Here she was, seeing him for the first time in days, while sat with a teen assigned to be his murderer.
{-}
Having seen all of her usual companions around the camp, and knowing from Octavia that Isobel was in and out of consciousness, Bellamy decided to try and see her before he headed out. Walking in to find her out of bed was surprising, but finding her sat with someone he didn't even know she spoke to was confusing.
He recognised Dax, knew he was a little off, and wondered how Isobel always managed to attract the odd ones. First Murphy, then the moment with Jones, and now Dax? He was beginning to question Isobel's intuition with people.
"Hey," he greeted, "glad to see you awake."
"Glad to be awake," she laughed a little, hand pressed to where he knew her injuries were. "I heard the last few days have been busy. Contact with The Ark and everything."
"Yeah," he nodded, "Raven's been a big help in that." He also didn't mention his little trip with the radio and the river, but assumed someone had probably told her already. "Clarke and I are heading out for a bit. Wanted to let you know, so you don't do anything stupid and rip your stitches. At least wait for her to come back."
"Like I would do anything stupid," she scoffed, but her current position on the chair, as well as the look she shared with Dax – a look Bellamy didn't like at all – confirmed she'd probably already done something. "Where're you heading? Just the two of you?"
"Yeah, just us," he confirmed, though he eyed Dax again, not sure how comfortable he was revealing everything in front of him. "The Ark mentioned some old supplies, probably blankets and food rations. Gonna go and see if we can find it."
"Sounds fun. Be careful."
"More careful than you, anyway," he said with a smirk, while she rolled her eyes. "I might have to assign a guard to you. Make sure you stay put."
"You mean babysitter?"
"That's exactly what I mean," he nodded, glad she was up for joking around with him. He didn't know how much she knew about the grounder upstairs, but no one was in a particularly friendly mood with him at the moment.
"I can stay with her," Dax offered. He shucked off his backpack, dropping it at his feet, and Bellamy caught the flash of a knife on the strap.
"Really?" the redhead said before Bellamy could respond. He didn't know what to make of the hope on her face, or the relief when Dax nodded.
"What's going on in here?" he felt the need to ask. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No, nothing," Isobel assured him. "Just bored, and Dax was nice enough to entertain me a while."
"Nice," Bellamy echoed, eyeing the tall teen, who stared right back. He was menacing, if Bellamy had to describe him, and he was very uneased at the thought of this guy staying with a wounded Isobel. "If you say so. I could ask Miller to sit with you, if you want. Or get Finn back in here."
"Miller has better things to do, and I might actually kill Finn if he starts lingering again," she sighed. "Besides, I think Raven wants him around for a bit. I can't blame her. It must have been ages since they've seen each other."
"True," he nodded, a quiet stretching between them. He knew Clarke would be waiting, that he had to leave, even if he wanted to dismiss Dax so he could talk to Isobel properly. "I have to head out. Just wanted to see how you were doing. I'll check in when I get back."
"Okay, see you then. Good luck."
"Rest up."
With another hard look at Dax, one he hoped was warning enough against hurting Isobel in any way, Bellamy left the dropship.
"He's kind of a jerk," he heard Dax say the moment the curtain fell.
"That's not a reason!" Isobel replied immediately and Bellamy wasn't sure what she meant.
"Never said it was," Dax assured. "Just think you might have a type."
"Probably."
The easy admission sent a warmth through him, even if he was still confused by the interaction.