Warning: major canon divergence from this point onward.

XII - How to Cross the Rubicon

Memory can be a fickle thing. Certain moments stay with us forever and we remember every single detail, from the smell in the air to the taste of a particular food, and sometimes memories leave us entirely in favour of the shadows and only something seemingly insignificant can propel them back into the light. Then there are the memories that we wish would leave us but never do. They linger like a disease, spreading and infecting everything they come into contact with; sometimes our minds turn these memories into a prison in which we can become trapped.

When Mara was five years old she cut her thumb. Insignificant. Unimportant. Yet, at the age of eighteen, she could remember exactly where she had been and who had been with her. She could remember the exact shade of blue her dress had been, and she could remember that she had only been wearing one sock. Why she was only wearing one sock she could not recall, but that is neither here nor there.

On the day of her seventh birthday, Mara overheard a conversation between two guards and, though the conversation was not of great importance, she could remember it word for word eleven years later.

Mara hoped that she would one day forget the smell of burning flesh but, given the fickle nature of memory, she supposed that it would be something that would linger. She would never be able to put the smell into words exactly. After all, who exactly can quantify such a smell? She could only think of one word to describe it: foul. Yet, the word 'foul' conjures up different things for different people and no two people will think of exactly the same thing. For Mara, the word meant decay and spoiled food – neither of which can be used to describe burning bodies. Therefore, to try and accurately describe the smell that infected the air would be an entirely impossible task.

She could, however, describe the events that led up to the smell of burning flesh being a real issue. It started in the Grounder's cave with a knife wound, a fist fight, a boy she hated, and a boy she loved; it progressed with a cry for help, an order, a knife extracted prematurely, and a round of CPR; it ended with a death, an unconscious prisoner, a pyre, and a broken girl. All of which Mara was not willing to go into great detail, primarily because she could not actually remember it. She had a vague recollection of the events, but her memories were mostly stitched together by the fabric of other people's words. She often felt as if she were remembering by looking through frosted glass: she could recall what had happened but everything was blurry and distorted. There was, however, a small list of things that she could recall:

Finn's hair had been knotted at the back of his head and was sticky was grease and sweat.

Monroe's panted breaths, and the bead of sweat that hung off the end of her nose as she tried to save Finn's life.

Jasper dropping the bloody knife he had pulled from Finn's chest before anyone could stop him.

The sound of glass smashing as Bellamy knocked over a shelf full of vials, and chains clanking as they fell from Octavia's wrists.

Five things. Five small things were all that Mara could remember. Maybe it had been a coping mechanism, a way to stop her from witnessing another death, but nothing could ever truly shield her.

They did not have obituaries on the Ark – it would have been a great waste of paper. Instead, deaths were spread by word of mouth. The most important people were told first and the news would trickle down to the rest (often in the cafeteria during meal times, or in work stations were people gathered in great numbers). Even without a minuscule paragraph detailing what a person had accomplished in their life, the members of the Ark managed to cobble together their own form of obituary. When a person died, their friends and relatives would gather together around the only tree that had survived the transition into space. It was a small and relatively unimpressive thing, yet it represented so much. It meant that life could continue in the darkest of times. It meant hope. It meant survival. It meant never giving up. When a person died, the tree meant everlasting life. Loved ones would gather around this survivor of a world decimated by radiation, and would give speeches about the life the deceased had lived. Other times, they would stand in silent personal reflection. It was simple, peaceful almost.

Yet, death is only ever simple and peaceful when it is expected. Death is never accepted when it arrives unannounced and makes itself at home with a smile on its face.

[Finn Collins: seventeen years old. His friends called him 'Spacewalker' for his love of adventure and his courage.

Roma Michaels: eighteen years old. She loved deeply and without fear. She wanted to be an engineer.

Gary Diggs: fifteen years old. He laughed louder than anyone else. He would have walked to the end of the world for any of his friends without a second thought.

John Mbege: sixteen years old. He never cared what anyone else thought about him. His loyalty was undisputed.

Charlotte Wren: thirteen years old. She was haunted by the demons of her past.

Wells Jaha: seventeen years old. He lived in his father's shadow. He was never given the chance to step into the light.

Atom Goldberg: fifteen years old. He longed to see the world. He wanted to be remembered.

Trina Adams: fourteen years old. She loved to dance. She wanted to be a doctor. She died in the acid fog.

Pascal Romero: fourteen years old. He liked taking risks. He sought adventure wherever he could. He died holding Trina's hand.

Carson Butler: twelve years old. He loved learning about the Earth. He dreamed of seeing it for himself. He died during the dropship landing.

Glen Dickson: twelve years old. He loved to explore. He loved his best friend even more. He died screaming Carson's name.]

Death is never a welcome sight when it comes for the unprepared. The worst of all is when it comes for the young.

Though the Ark had very little rituals surrounding death, the ground had even less. There may have been plenty of trees the delinquents could have gathered around, but it did not feel right somehow. From the very beginning, they had created an area specifically for burying their dead. They started with Glen and Carson on the first day. The graveyard was small, just a collection of upturned earth and wooden sticks impaled in the ground, yet someone had taken the time to carve the names of the dead into each plank.

The day that Finn, Roma, Diggs, and Mbege died did not lend itself to performing a proper burial.

Mara always wondered why it rained in the movies during a funeral. Every Friday night, Factory Station would gather together and watch one of the movies they could borrow from the archives. Whenever there was a funeral, it would rain and the black umbrellas would appear. They never wore black on the Ark when someone died, and it certainly never rained. On Earth, the heaven's threatened to spill open for the dead delinquents. She supposed it was poetic in the way, like the world was mourning for its loss.

They had not had the time to dig four fresh graves, nor could they leave the bodies out to be battered by the oncoming storm, nor could they put the bodies in the dropship with the living. Instead, they built four pyres from the wood they had cut down and stored away. The pyres stood tall and proud and as strong as the people they carried into the afterlife. The flames licked the darkening sky and Mara could not describe the smell.

Raven had lit Finn's pyre. She had screamed and collapsed into Bellamy's arms when she saw the body of the boy she loved. She had grabbed him and clutched him to her chest as if she could squeeze the life back into him. Her hair had shielded her face from everyone else, but no one wanted to look as she rocked his body back and forth. Clarke had watched on. Her face had turned to white ash and she had not moved from where she had stood. The only movement around her was the tears that she did not stop from falling.

It had taken one hour for the pyres to be built. They were built in complete silence as the bodies were laid side by side. It hadn't felt right to strip the bodies of the clothes they no longer had any use for, yet the materials were needed. And so, they were stripped of their boots, their socks and of their jackets. The rest of the clothes were left on their bodies; no one could bring themselves to strip the dead any further.

When the time came to light the pyres, no one had moved – no one wanted to. Not even Bellamy, who stood with his hands thrust into his pockets and blood on his lips, had wanted to begin the process. Then, like a light had been turned on, Raven had rose from the ground and made a torch for herself. Monroe followed soon after, letting go of Harper's hand and blinking the glassy tears from her eyes. She had stood at Roma's bare feet and said goodbye. Sterling had went next and stood by Diggs. Finally, Bellamy created a torch for himself and positioned himself in front of Mbege; the rebel king who lost it all. Drew performed the ritual they were all so familiar with, and they repeated the words back to him – a broken record that no one knew how to fix.

Death and memory are the same in the end. They both pick and choose what is allowed to linger and what is not and no one is given a choice.

And so, the pyres had burned until there was nothing left but ash and dust, and the heaven's opened as the last ember faded away to nothing.

And maybe that was the plan all along. Maybe the delinquents were sent to the earth as a final punishment for their crimes. Were they ever intended to survive? Was there ever any real hope that an army of untrained children could survive in an inhospitable land? In Finn's death, and in Charlotte's, Mara was inclined to believe that they would never make it through. Bellamy and Nathan, on the other hand, were determined to fight and let the consequences be damned.

That was how the delinquents found themselves playing host to an unwanted guest: the grounder. The rescue party had not just carried the bodies of the dead back to the camp. Bellamy, Nathan, and Alves had managed to carry the grounder between the three of them despite Octavia's many protests. They had carted him straight up to the top floor of the dropship where they had remained until it had been time for the funeral.

Bellamy operated in a mechanical manner. His movements were stiff and jolting, like a switch being turned on and off so quickly that it needs time to catch up. He was scarily vacant in his anger, and seemed to only have one thing on his mind: revenge.

"I'm doing this for our people," he had claimed. "The grounder has information we need."

Yet, it was not truly information that Bellamy wanted. He wanted revenge for Octavia's kidnap and for all of the death and pain that had befallen them. For Finn, Roma, Diggs, Mbege, and Jasper.

"This is crossing a line, Bellamy."

"The line's already been crossed."

Mara stood in his path as he moved to brush past her. She reached out to him, the tips of her fingers lingering on his arm for a brief moment. He stared at the point of contact before his eyes flicked to hers; a sea of barely hidden suffering. They held each other's gaze in silence but their micro expressions spoke volumes. The crease of his eyebrows and pursed lips screamed that he had already made his decision.

"Our people don't need to be dragged into a war," she said.

"Wake up, Mara. We're already in one."

"No, Bellamy, no we're not. But this is going to start one."

In the background, the grounder's muscles bulged under his taut skin as he strained against the red seatbelts being used to restrain him. His skin was littered was thick spiralling black tattoos that followed the lines of his body. He towered over the two, and exuded power and strength that contrasted with his imprisonment. Blood had dried down the side of his face from his fight with Bellamy and the number of times that had he had been repeatedly knocked out on the trip back to camp. Octavia had cried and screamed in protest each time.

Bellamy's jaw twitched. He remembered that Mara's jacket had been green when they first met, but days later it was covered in patches of dirt and the original colour was barely distinguishable. A leaf had gotten stuck in the zipper. She had a thin scratch along the side of her face that blended into the purplish bruise that still contoured her cheek bone. Her right eye was slightly blood shot and, in that moment, she looked older than she really was. She was too young, they all were.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Bellamy," she sighed as she tried to run a hand through her knotted hair. "I'm not leaving."

He knew that she wouldn't, of course he knew. Yet it was her stubbornness that caused him frustration. Bellamy knew what he had to do, but he did not want an audience for it. As he looked at the girl before him, who looked like she had already been through a war, he knew that he would do whatever he could to shield her from what was about to happen.

"I need to do this."

She did not reply. She didn't need to, for they knew what she would say. There had been enough bloodshed to last them all a lifetime. There did not have to be any more.

Nathan watched the scene unfolding before him, and watched, with curiosity, the looks that passed between the two. There's was no hatred there, only tired acceptance and maybe a little understanding. That however, was something that Nathan could not understand. Mara had been so adamant that her father had died as a result of Bellamy's actions yet she looked at him as if nothing had transpired. It worried him, though the grounder tied up next to him worried him even more.

Wind and rain battered against the dropship. The delinquents bellow their feet chattered solemnly as they tried to remain calm. No one had ever experienced a storm before. Mara had often watched storms pummelling Earth from the observation deck on the Ark. She had found the swirling clouds beautiful in their destruction. Watching a storm from the relative safety of the Ark and actually being in one are two separate things entirely, and Mara would have lied if she said that she wasn't a little frightened by the onslaught.

"Have you at least tried talking to him first?"

"Yes. He hasn't said anything."

Mara and Bellamy both turned to regard the grounder. Their shoulders brushed once more but neither moved to put any space between them.

The grounder stared ahead unblinking and unafraid. He had long since awoken, but he had made no move to escape. He occasionally clenched his fists as if he was testing the strength of his ties, but he had had no success in escaping.

"What if he doesn't speak English?" At Mara's words, Bellamy tore his gaze away from his prisoner. "When Nathan and I found that grounder boy he started shouting, but it wasn't in a language that I recognised. So, what if he doesn't understand English?"

Bellamy hesitated for a moment. In truth, the thought that the grounder could not understand him had not crossed his mind. His head had been too full of Octavia's hateful look when he had given the order to capture the grounder, and the ever crushing guilt that filled his soul for the three hundred and for the people he had promised to protect. He knew that his judgement was clouded, but his anger at the situation they had all been thrust into overwhelmed all rational thought.

"Find everyone who can speak another language and bring them up here. We can try talking to him first before we do anything else." Mara ordered, and if Bellamy noticed her use of 'we', he did not let on.

Bellamy nodded his head at Sterling and Drew, who proceeded to climb down the ladder from the top level. They could hear the two boys calling for volunteers but their focus had returned solely to the grounder.

Mara did not know what to think. Never in her wildest nightmares had she thought she would ever end up confronted with such a choice. Her people had been murdered by the grounders, yet she couldn't help but feel sorry for their prisoner. For all they knew, he could have had no part in the events that had unfolded in the woods. Maybe he had not been the one to kill Roma, or Diggs, or Mbege. Maybe he had played no part in the disaster that had plagued them. Yet, he had killed Finn and kidnapped Octavia. Then the fact that Octavia claimed to have been saved by the grounder also complicated the issue. Mara knew that it had been proven throughout history that torture did not work. It had long since been proven that everyone has a breaking point and will say anything to get the pain to stop. She wondered if she had reached her breaking point yet; was there anything left of her that could be broken?

"Do you really think this is right?" She asked of him, though she was unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Bellamy looked at her for a long moment before he crossed his arms and turned away from her. She had her answer.

Slowly but surely, a line began to form in the upper level of the dropship. It remained deathly silent. The only sound that could be heard came from the lower level as Monty tried to make contact with the Ark using the radio that had finally dried out enough.

The first to try to communicate with the grounder stepped forward and tried her best to translate Bellamy's questions.

"How many of you are there?"

"What do you want with us?"

"Why are you attacking us?"

Each question and each translation in Mandarin was met with stony silence.

The process was repeated in Catalan, Urdu, French, Italian, Swahili, and Russian. The result was the same each time. Even Art tried communicating in sign language, yet the Grounder still showed no response.

Mara ushered each and every failed hopeful out of the top level and couldn't help the disappointment that entered into her voice. She had truly hoped that the only issue had been a language barrier, yet it seemed that that was not the case.

There was a look in Bellamy's eyes that showed his disappointment too. Maybe there's hope for him, Mara thought. Maybe he doesn't actually want to harm the grounder.

"What do we do know?" Nathan spoke for the first time in hours, having watched with mounted frustration as the farce of trying different languages had dragged on. He wanted the whole thing over with.

"Search his things," Bellamy ordered and crossed to where they had piled everything they had found in the grounder's pockets.

Nathan began rifling through the objects, tossing them aside carelessly.

Mara sat down next to the hatch in the floor. There was something about raiding through the grounder's personal possessions that felt entirely wrong to her. Logically, she knew that the whole situation was wrong. They had the grounder tied up and held prisoner, yet she oddly found that searching his belongings was too much an invasion of privacy. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all had the situation not been so dire.

"The ground to Ark Station, do you copy? Is anybody there? Can anybody hear me?" Monty's voice drifted up through the hatch.

Guess he got the radio to work, Mara thought. Yet, she found that she felt no elation at the thought that contact with the Ark might be possible. It's too late, that's why.

The grounder paid Mara no mind even though she was sat directly across from him. Instead, his attention was solely focused on Bellamy and Nathan. He watched them with cold calculation. He seemed to be trying to look through the boys to see what they had found.

Bellamy had joined Nathan's side as he too began tossing around the grounder's possessions: a pocket knife, a piece of gauze, a small pouch full of different plants and vials of multi-coloured liquids, and a journal. The journal was made of cracked brown leather that had seen better days. It was stuffed to the brim with notes and leafs of loose paper that would have fallen out had the journal not been tied together with a strap of matching brown leather. Out of sheer curiosity, and a desire to prolong the inevitable, Bellamy unwound the strap.

The grounder jolted forward.

"What have we got here?" Bellamy quirked an eyebrow; he had finally gotten a reaction.

Bellamy opened the journal and began flipping through the pages without being delicate. One of the pages ripped. The first few pages were of no importance to him – they were simply a collection of drawings: trees, wildlife, people Bellamy had never seen before. The following pages appeared to be detailed notes on various flora and their properties. Most interestingly was that the notes were in clear English.

"The ground to Ark Station, do you copy?"

Those pages continued for a while, and Bellamy had nearly lost interest when he noticed one page filled with straight lines, one hundred and two lines to be exact, seven of which had crosses through them. On the opposite page was a detailed drawing of the outside of the dropship.

"Is there anybody there? Can anybody here me?"

"He's been watching us," Bellamy glared at the grounder as he showed Nathan the journal entry.

Bellamy turned the page and was confronted by a series of drawings. The first was of the delinquents gathered around a bonfire. The second was of a group of them walking through the woods. One of the figures looked distinctly like Charlotte. The fourth was of one of the worst mistakes of Bellamy's life: Murphy was hanging from a tree while a crowd surrounded him. Bellamy could almost hear them chanting for Murphy's death all over again. The fifth drawing made his blood boil. The shading was much darker and there was no mistaking who the drawing was of. Tears glistened down her cheeks and her eyes were squeezed shut – even though it was a pencil drawing, the anguish in her face was clear. Yet, she was not alone in the drawing. A man was with her too, and his curls spiralled in all directs as one of her hands settled in his hair. His skin was splattered in freckles. There was no mistaking that the fifth drawing was of Mara and Bellamy kissing the night Charlotte had jumped off of the cliff. The sixth and final drawing pushed Bellamy over the edge.

"The ground to Ark Station, do you copy? Is there anybody there? Can anybody hear me?"

It was a simple portrait, no background, and nothing else on the page, just a simple portrait of Octavia. It was beautiful. Octavia was smiling in the drawing, and it was so lifelike that Bellamy felt that she was smiling at him.

"They've been watching us the whole time!" Bellamy stalked towards the grounder, a lion coiled to strike. He threw the journal at Mara, who quickly caught it before it could touch the ground. A few of the loose papers fluttered out and lay abandoned.

Mara stared at the drawing of Octavia before flipping through the rest. When she found the drawing of her and Bellamy she felt sick to her stomach. It had been such a private and intimate moment that the thought that someone had been watching the whole time made her want to throw up. She couldn't help the anger that boiled up inside her as she too glared at the grounder. She felt like something had been stolen from her.

"He knows English," she muttered. She had found the grounder's extensive notes.

"He's been playing us this whole time!" Nathan exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Clarke emerged through the hatch, her voice hoarse and raw. She had been crying.

Mara handed the other girl the grounder's journal and Clarke flicked through it with increasing surprise. Her eyebrows shot high when she found the drawing of Mara and Bellamy. Her eyes flicked between the two before an odd look passed across her face, a cross between sadness and knowing.

"The ground to Ark Station, do you copy?"

"He's not talking," Bellamy paced before the grounder. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides.

Mara couldn't look away from the grounder who in turn couldn't look away from Bellamy. Yet, there was an obvious detachment in his gaze.

People react in one of two ways in times of crisis: fight or flight. Bellamy, it seemed, preferred to fight as, without any warning, he sprang forward towards the grounder with his knife firmly in his hand.

"Bellamy!" Mara started forward.

Without hesitation, Bellamy gripped the grounder's shirt in one hand and ripped it open with his knife.

"What are you doing?" Clarke demanded as Bellamy tore the remnants of the shirt from the grounder's torso.

"Making him talk," Bellamy growled out, more animal sounding than human.

"Stop! We are not torturing him." Clarke demanded, squaring her shoulders and standing to her fullest height.

Mara would have been impressed had she been on the receiving end of Clarke's glare, yet Bellamy acted as if she had said nothing at all.

"Do you want what happened to Finn to happen again? The grounders are planning something and we need to be able to defend ourselves!"

Bellamy puffed his chest up automatically as Drew and Sterling climbed back in through the hatch. They moved to stand by his side in full support of his plan (Drew a little less so, going by the shifting of his gaze). Nathan crossed the room and stood on Bellamy's right hand side, the spot he had coveted from the very beginning.

"Bellamy's right," Nathan spoke, his eyes pouring into Mara's. "We need to know what's coming for us. You saw how organised they are. We don't stand a chance against them unless we get the upper hand."

"And torture's how you want to go about it?" Mara stared at her best friend but felt like she was looking at a stranger.

"If it means that we'll survive."

"You don't have to be here for this," Bellamy said to the girls, "but this is happening with or without your permission." He turned abruptly and stormed towards where seats had been pushed aside to make room.

"Bellamy," Mara sped towards him, trying to keep her voice calm. "Are you sure about this?"

She reached his side but did not reach out to touch him. His movements stilled his knife in one hand ready to cut off another seatbelt.

"If you do this there's no going back," she said.

"I know," came his reply, just as quiet. "But it needs to be done."

"Does it?"

"Miller is right. We all saw how they worked today. They picked us off like flies, and they did it so easily. We won't be able to stop them if they attack us again." This time he looked up at her, and the grounder's drawing flashed before his eyes. She stared right back at him. He wondered if she saw the same thing. "We need to do this."

"Okay." Mara hated herself for saying the word, but as images of the grounders surrounding them flashed before her eyes, she knew that Bellamy was right. The grounders herded them into trap after trap and they did it with practised ease. She knew that the grounder's blood would be the next to stain her hands.

"Don't let Octavia up."

Before Drew could comply with his leader's orders, Raven emerged from the hatch. Her eyes were red and puffy and her hair had fallen out of the tight ponytail it had been pulled into. Her jacket was zipped up to her chin and she gave the distinct impression that she had been trying to wrap herself up as tight as possible to stop the pieces of herself from falling apart. The group stared at her, Clarke a little awkwardly, but Raven did not flinch or cower under their gaze. She stood like a marble statue, unmovable and utterly hard and faced them head on.

"Finn was all I had," her voice was hoarser than Clarke's but it was just as strong and even fiercer. "I want to be here for this."

Bellamy nodded at her, sympathy clear in his eyes, but they were also filled with anger and determination. When he turned away from her and thought that no one could see, his face slipped into an expression of pure vulnerability. He was scared; scared of the person he would become, scared of the future, scared of the past, scared of what he was about to do. Mara saw it all, and felt her own fear falling into place alongside his. There would be no going back, no option to rewind and start again. They were standing at a crossroads and had to choose a path, where that path would lead was uncertain.

"Lock the hatch," Bellamy gave his final order as he tore the seatbelt from the chair and wrapped the end around his wrist, leaving the end with the buckle to dangle free.

Mara moved to stand between Raven and Clarke and Bellamy positioned himself in front of the grounder. Mara was struck in that moment by just how human the grounder was. The grounders were not just some faceless group of people intent on killing. They were real human people with thoughts and feelings of their own, with families and friends and full lives ahead. We really are monsters now, was her final thought.

"Bellamy!" Octavia's voice came from the level below. "Bellamy, what's going on?"

Drew raced to shut the hatch door before Octavia could reach the top of the ladder.

"Bellamy! Bellamy, open up!" Octavia's fists banged against the hatch door, but she could not break into the room.

Mara's heart went out to the girl, but there was nothing to be done.

"Bellamy!"

After Drew locked the hatch shut and as Bellamy took his first swing with the whip, a mechanical voice drifted up through the floor.

"Ark Station to the Ground, we hear you loud and clear."

Notes

Hi everyone, I know it's been a long time since I've updated, but I just couldn't seem to figure out how I wanted the chapter to play out. I finished and edited this chapter so many times, but it never felt right to me. I changed the perspective of the chapter (from Mara to Nathan to Bellamy to Clarke to Lincoln and back again) but nothing ever felt right. As I was writing, one thought kept coming into my head: what would change if Finn died? and so, that's how this chapter came about. I know that some of you may really like Finn as a character, so I'm sorry that you have to say goodbye to him in this fic, but it just felt appropriate almost for where I want to take Mara. Given the change to the story I've decided to make, a lot more things are going to start changing (particularly when we get into season two of the show).

Once again, I wanted to say that I'm so sorry about how long you have had to wait for this update. I have the next chapter all planned out and sections of it already completed, so I just need to sit down and stitch it all together.

This chapter is much shorter than the last one, but I think that I'm more comfortable writing this length. I've found that I place expectations on myself when it comes to chapter length if the previous one was super long. That being said, there will still be some pretty long chapters ahead because I'm going to dedicate the longer lengths to more important events.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please feel free to let me know what you think. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Review Responses

paintedbywords: thank you so much for your review, I really appreciate it, and I'm so sorry that I have taken this long to update. Your review made me smile so much when I read it (I'd be lying if I said I didn't read it a bunch of times when I needed a bit of a pick-me-up!) Thank you so much for your comments, I really did have a lot of fun writing chapter eleven.

January Raines: thanks for the comment! I'm really sorry for how long the delay has been for the update, but it's here now! Hope it makes up for it!

wickedgirl123: thanks so much for your review! I really appreciate it! I'm so glad you love the fic and Mara and Miller's relationship. I really like writing their dynamic (even though there isn't much of it in here sorry, this chapter is more of an immediate continuation of the last chapter. Kind of like I've split chapter eleven into two). I totally agree about the speed of Bellamy and Mara's relationship. I always feels like things should take a bit more time to develop, but don't worry I've got big BIG plans for the future! I have to apologise about the turn in the story with Finn. I just could not get past this chapter with Finn surviving sorry. I feel like Mara and him were just getting to a place were they were sort of good with each other but, given that I love Mara, I just had to rip the rug from under her feet. I do have plans to develop a friendship between Mara, Monty, and Miller in the next few chapters because I feel like they can all bring something unique to the table.

Guest: here you go, hope you enjoyed it!

Notes (cont.)

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this little fic that I came up with one day while walking my dog and started writing on my phone immediately. I really appreciate all of the reviews, favourites, and follows that you have all given me!

Until next time,

jarmrcc1