I didn't expect to wake up feeling like a rolling pin hit me over the head, but I did. And I certainly didn't appreciate the moans that came afterward, nor the tumultuous shouts of prisoners that followed the groans.

"Go back to sleep!" said one prisoner.

Another yelled, "Quiet!"

It was getting quite bothersome, considering my sleep was restless enough with endless thoughts of my father, the one man I always craved affection from, and Bellamy, the man who gave his all and opened his heart, only for me to ruin it with confliction. I knew I was not going to sleep anytime soon, not with these assholes deeming me a worthy target of their yells. I didn't like loud voices, so this was certainly a problem.

And finally, I had enough. "Shut the fuck up!" I screamed into the night, hearing my own voice echo off the metal interior of the drop-ship. I hoped that Clarke wouldn't assume my scream was targeted at her nearest patient. I understood his pain—sympathized with it, even—so I couldn't be a bitch about it, even if I wanted to. The prisoners, on the other hand, were uninjured and worsening an already-bad situation by being dicks about one of their own's suffering. I didn't sympathize with them, not at all.

"Fuck off, Kane," said a prisoner to my right, and what do you know—it was fucking Emilie, my arch-nemesis. Her bruised nose was looking a little worse for the wear, and I supposed it wouldn't hear for a splatter of bruises to complement the collection—

"You should know better than to talk like that to me, Emilie," I growled. I shuffled closer, using the nearest wall to shimmy myself to a sitting position. I glared at her. "He's just a kid, and he almost died. And now he's in pain. Do you fucking want him to die?"

"Of course not!" Emilie shot back, looking appalled at the suggestion. I admit—I didn't expect that. "I just don't appreciate you bursting my fucking eardrums to make your opinion known."

I raised an eyebrow. I certainly knew Emilie had a problem with me, but I didn't expect for her to be the bigger person and not lash it out at the people I considered friends. I anticipated a comment about hoping Jasper to die in the night, but listening to her now, I understood she wasn't a bad person… just that she didn't have a filter, much like myself, and held grudges against people who socked her in the face. Or maybe that was just a one-time thing.

"Interesting," I said slowly, not liking the way her eye twitched. "If I allow you to punch me in the face, can we have a truce?" I knew that she'd hated me for years—for over a decade, actually—but I didn't want her frustrating disloyalty to keep me from having a good time on Earth.

Emilie's own face blanched, and she looked confused by the sudden friendliness in my voice. But I noticed her rising up into a sat position, slowly, slowly—until she was inches from my body. "Really?" she said, not looking like she believed me very much.

I grinned. "'Course! And I promise I won't retaliate—" Crack! Before I knew it, I was falling over to the side, a nauseating pain fucking over my ability to breathe as my nose began to bleed heaps.

"Sure, Kane," said Emilie cheerfully, laying back down on her backside. Funny—she was facing my direction. It was almost like she wanted to see me drown in my own nose-blood. "We can have a truce."

Forgive and forget, I suppose, I thought bitterly. Then I stumbled to my feet. Hope Clarke has some damned tissues available…

That next morning, I was up and ready (not to mention eager) for a new adventure. I'd bribed Clarke into giving me pieces of cloth for my broken, bleeding nose, in exchange for me being nice the entire day. We shook hands on it. I think she assumed I was screaming for Jasper to shut the fuck up last night, and so she was punishing me for it by forcing me to be nice. Jokes on her, though! I was leaving camp for the day. I needed a bath, and damn it, I was going to get one.

As I walked, I noticed two opposites standing together—my favorite guy (after last night, though, I wasn't so sure we'd be able to reconcile such a sentiment) and my least-favorite guy. "Heya Bells, Germphy!" I said cheerfully, then slapped a hand over my mouth as I realized Murphy's nickname wasn't very nice. "Ahaha, I meant Murphy! Haha…" I smiled nervously, not feeling sorry at all.

Bellamy looked like he wanted to laugh while Murphy just scowled, though the two of them stopped short of their respective actions when they noticed the cloth sticking out of my nostrils. "What the fuck…" Murphy started. It took seconds before the asshole began to cackle. "What-What is that in your… nose?"

"It's called 'cloth'," I said stiffly, my inner-voice repeatedly telling me, Don't be smart, don't be smart, don't be smart. But who was I kidding? I couldn't be sweet even if an entire palm of sugar-cane was shoved down my throat. "You look like you need one, but not for your nose… no, no, more like your face."

Murphy stopped laughing, and looked to Bellamy for assistance. Instead of giving him the go-ahead to kick my ass, Bellamy nodded to an abandoned patch of land a few yards away. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, avoiding nodding since that made my head spin. I gave Murphy the middle-finger as I passed, hoping Clarke wasn't outside to see it took mere minutes for me to break our pact of niceties. When Bellamy stopped, I kept going, walking until I was ahead and could spin around to face him. I didn't expect the heat in his gaze, nor the gut-wrenching sorrow hidden within its honey sea. My stomach dropped. "Bells—"

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Eowyn," he whispered, and I felt another nail in my coffin at his tone. How could you do that to him, Eowyn? Choose your asshole of a father over the only man who ever promised you forever and meant it? "I didn't-I didn't want you to choose between your father and me. I know how it ended for you, and I… I shouldn't try to take that away from you. Not after everything you've been through."

"Bellamy…" I couldn't help the tremble in my voice, nor the tears in my eyes. "I'm so sorry... I know my dad doesn't love me. I know he never will. I see that now." I placed a hand on Bellamy's cheek, forcing him to lean down so that we were closer in vicinity, so close we could taste each other's breath. I wanted him to know I meant every word coming next. "You're the only thing keeping me grounded, Bellamy. The only thing. Our past, our present, our fucking future is saving me from myself. I didn't realize it then, but I know it now… my father will never love me. You know it as well as I do. So to choose someone who has done nothing for me, who has never cared for my favorite books or achievements, who has never done for me as a father should, over someone who cares far more than words can describe… that is the biggest mistake I could ever make, one I'm not willing to risk."

I was not expecting for Bellamy to suddenly grapple me in a hug, bringing me in so close and roughly I was afraid more than just my nose would break. But I returned it fervently, hoping he knew how much I loved and cared for him through the solid rock of my embrace.

"If you two lovers can hurry up, we've got a hunt to do," called over Murphy, who was standing and smirking by the tree he kept trying to slash at from a distance. Looked like he still couldn't get a proper handle on his knife's throw, much like his tongue.

I released Bellamy, reaching up to squeeze his cheek affectionately. "Be safe, alright?" I said with a smile, knowing he wouldn't approve of what plans I had for myself, especially if he knew they involved me trekking outside of camp.

"You too," Bellamy breathed, an eyebrow raising dangerously as he looked at me. I saw the stubborn resolve in his gaze. "Stay inside camp and don't go looking for trouble. Okay?"

"You've got my word," I assured, but really, my promise was half-hearted—and I think some part of Bellamy knew it, too.

I waved him off as he went with his boys, fighting a laugh as a sulking Murphy was turned from their hunting group. Served him right for being such a dick.

Now, it was time to suit up and get ready… I had a forest to explore and a source of bathing to find.

It only took mere minutes for me to realize how bad an idea it was to leave camp without any source of company. I would have preferred Emilie's presence over none at all. Enduring silence wasn't something I appreciated, especially considering where I was. If I were in the Ark's archives, I could admit I enjoyed the silence, the solitude—but here, surrounded by unfamiliar green, just a whistle away from attracting dangerous attention, I couldn't say I liked it any more than I liked seeing those I loved in pain. This was not good, and I felt a sense of foreboding in the innocent way the forest blinked back when I stared it in the face.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout," I hummed, kicking away a tree branch. "Here is my handle, here is my spout—" I stopped walking, my hand lashing towards my pocket as I realized I heard footsteps. My fingers curled tightly around the source of metal I kept there. I didn't know the source, but turned every which way, unwilling to let myself be surrounded. Maybe leaving camp was a terrible idea after all, considering I didn't know how to keep my fucking mouth shut—"Who the fuck is following me?"

Nothing. Only silence.

My face hardened, a scowl folding its way onto my mouth. Was this a prisoner of the Ark trying to fuck with me or a grounder readying to kill me from the trees? I wondered warily, continuing to eye the surrounding shrubbery. I knew it was stupid to stay standstill, giving whoever it was an easy advantage if they were to decide on shooting me down, even though I damn well recognized the pinpoint accuracy the assholes were capable of, but I was looking, searching, hunting. I knew that if I tried for long enough, I'd find the perpetrator—

"I-I'm sorry!" squeaked from somewhere, and my face turned bemused when it occurred to me the speaker was young, a child almost. I turned to where I heard it from, eyes squeezing together in a glare when a little girl, no more than thirteen, appeared from behind the trunk of a tree. She was dressed the same way any of the other prisoners were, so I knew she was no Grounder and just another sad case of the Ark's—my father's—cruelty. Shadows may not have danced around here, but that didn't change that darkness could still haunt you in your sleep. I felt my eyes soften, just a little, heart breaking as assumption after assumption flew through me. Before I could even ask, she was saying nippily, "I just, I needed to get away… from the dying guy. He just kept moaning, and I—I couldn't take it anymore." I suppose that answered my first question—What are you doing outside of camp?

I eyed her down, taking in the blonde hair pulled back and the innocent look she bore, even expressionless. I didn't like how much she reminded me of a young Clarke. "He's not dying," I said after a while, trying with all my might to keep Clarke's pact in mind, even though I'd already broken it a dozen times. I didn't want to be mean to a little girl. "He's in pain. There's a difference."

The little girl shuffled awkwardly. "Sorry," she said, looking ashamed. "I just… I'm Charlotte."

"Eowyn," I said in turn, giving her a thoughtful once-over before swiftly turning. I still had a river to find and a bath to bask in; a little girl wasn't going to inconvenience my plans. Or so I thought, before Charlotte was beside me and looking up with her soft, naïve eyes. Fucking hell, I thought bitterly. "Why are you following me?"

"I don't want to be alone," she said, in a voice so childlike that I felt my reserve crack. I hadn't expected her to say something so painfully close to home.

My eyes clenched shut, a tremor of remorse going through me, before I nodded. "Alright," I told her. "Let's go, then. I'm on the hunt for a water source."

"To wash off?" asked Charlotte, looking up at me with a smile.

"Precisely," I said, then jokingly added, "I stink."

And the more we talked, the less I felt abandoned, and the more grateful I felt that fate—in whichever form it may have been—had heard my cries for company, and bestowed on me someone to rid me of my loneliness and anxiety. I felt less regretful about leaving camp without a second notice. Until—

"I think I see something!" whispered Charlotte, before she took off at a sprint.

I blinked, not understanding the need-for-speed, before I was hurrying along, following after at a pace that certainly didn't match hers. When I finally caught up, it was to see an angry-looking Bellamy berating Charlotte, an axe stuck in the bark beside her, and a stoic Atom standing to the side. I couldn't help the bemused laugh that escaped me at the sight.

Both Bells and Atom turned to stare at me, Charlotte continuing to look at the ground. If it were even possible, Bellamy's expression turned darker and I felt a jolt of guilt rush through me as he stomped forward. "What the fuck, E?" he said, voice nearly a snarl, as he appeared in front of me. Hs glare hardened as he saw the regret in my eyes. "I thought I told you to stay in camp? You could have been killed by a grounder, for God's sake!"

"Bellamy, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack," I hissed, not in the mood for having a domestic in the middle of a radiation-soaked forest. "We can do this back in camp, alright? But not right now, with witnesses."

"I don't appreciate being lied to," Bellamy said to me, hinting back at the half-assed promise I gave him to stay in the camp's premises. "Why did you leave camp when I specifically told you to stay?"

"Well, my nose stopped bleeding so I decided to go look for a good place to bathe," I told him, blinking innocently, hoping the puppy-eyed look I used to give him as a teenager still had its same charm. Turned out, it did.

"Stay close and do not wander off," he told me warningly, taking me by the waist as he led me back towards Charlotte and Atom. I didn't expect or want the blush that suddenly appeared on my cheeks. The teasing look Atom shot at Bellamy's arm didn't help, either, and it made me want to throw my shoe at him.

Using his free arm, Bellamy took out a dropship-crafted knife and handed it to Charlotte. "You can't hunt without a weapon. Ever killed something before?" What a question to ask a little girl. When Charlotte shook her head in response, Bells smirked. "Who knows? Maybe you're good at it."

As expected, Bellamy kept me close to his side, barely easing his grip on my waist, even when I nudged at his gut and gave him my signature What the fuck? look. It didn't work; if anything, it made him hold onto me tighter. I'm sure he was worried I'd separate myself from him just for spite if he did ease his grip. He wasn't wrong.

I kept my face neutral as I watched Bellamy's goons hunt. I almost wanted to force Bellamy into joining them, but I also liked the feeling of his hand on my waist; oh, woe was me, such confliction. It was certainly not the best thing to wish and yearn for, especially out there where death and destruction were both inevitable.

Suddenly, there was a horn that bellowed. And the air felt hot and thick as a tension fueled the atmosphere. Then we saw it.

It was a radiated yellow, leaking its way toward us fast and steadily, spreading like a fucking epidemic. I felt myself backing up, pulling Bellamy with me. Before I could even blink, all of us were suddenly running, fleeing from poisonous plague as it trailed us like a predator.

Bellamy had released my waist now, so it was just my hand that was caught in an iron-like grip. I stumbled with him, risking back glances that would certainly ruin our lead on the following fog, and I felt regret lace itself into my conscience as I looked ahead and noticed, none of his hunting partners were to be seen. The only one in the vicinity was Atom, and I noticed him faltering, until he was tripping, until there was nothing I could do to save him.

"Bellamy!" I said hurriedly, slamming my fist against his shoulder when he chose to ignore me and instead keep his gaze forward. "Oh my god—Bellamy!"

We'd come upon a cave. Charlotte rushed into it with a backwards glance, and Bellamy pushed me inside, but he himself stayed at the entrance, looking out. I knew what he was searching for.

"Bellamy!" cried Atom from where we left him. "Bellamy!"

The fog got thick, inching closer, and Bellamy was forced to fall further into the cave, until Atom's pained shouts were nothing but a figment of our memory, etched deep in our graveyard of regrets.