whaaaat is this? Well... this has taken a while... for some reason it was so hard to write :/ But I ended up like the second section :3 Guess I can blame the show writers, cause they just skipped so much and honestly, we should've gotten the proper scenes between these two. So much wasted potential.

Wounds healed slowly. The raw wounds stung with each movement, sparking a hatred in my blood against those people. But that hatred could not last long when she stood before me.

We were surrounded only by woods, the black trees and rows of ferns.

And I knew it was a mistake.

A breath escaped her lungs, quick and relieved. Dark eyes melted and a smile spread across her face. I should demand my booklet, threaten her, break her neck, slit her throat.

"Lincoln!"

I swallowed hard.

"Didn't expect to see you."

She stepped closer, a twig snapped beneath her foot. Then another. I couldn't help but wince, gaze swinging about the woods, making sure we were alone. She was very close now. I glanced at her lips.

"You scared me."

"You're an easy target."

Her lips curved into a pout, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"How kind."

"What are you doing out here?"

Here, in my realm. My people's world. The woods where she could be killed in a second, a quick blade to the back, between the eyes. All the horrible ways of how she could be killed began to pour into my mind.

Knowing I should select one.

"Snuck out." She was smirking, eyes twinkling with an inner mirth. "I'm supposed to be helping with food. They think I'm supposed to be helping with the tents."

"You shouldn't be out here." Her smile dropped to a frown. "You're an easy target."

"So you've said." The hint of a smile began to curl the edges of her lips. "You could teach me, to be better. Be a fighter. I'm a quick learner."

She is so close, head tipped to catch my eye. I could reach out, touch her lips, run my hand down the length of her neck, her back. My lips buzz with the memory of hers upon mine.

She had responded to the kiss.

"I'm your enemy."

"Not mine."

I try to conjure the words to retaliate. I am. I am to kill her. She can see my retorts passing behind me eyes, and she looked away.

"I don't care what Bellamy says. I trust you."

She was destroying me. Slowly, piece by piece tearing away everything I had built up around me.

"Maybe, I can." My voice rasped from my throat. I hardly believed what I spoke, until her eyes were upon me and they were fierce and bright. "I can teach you."

"When? How?"

Not here. Not now.

I chewed at the inside of my lip, because how was this to work? It was a threat to both of us, but she was waiting and I needed to give her something.

"This flower." I thrust the bloom between us. It was a beautiful pale white, gorgeous against her dark hair. She took the thin stem delicately in her fingers and inhaled deeply. I knew it would beautiful in her hands.

She smiled up at me.

I felt she knew how horribly she had twisted my mind about her. She knew I had seen it, knew I had taken it for her. Knew I was so lost.

It was sickening.

"I'll leave a trail of them, follow it. If you want. When you can."

She was laughing, hugging the flower close against her breasts. There was a shout from the camp, an angry command.

"I have to go." She whispered, turned, then halted and black eyes were upon me. Pinning me down.

I was the easy target.

Her fingers grabbed at the folds of my shirt, and she pulled me down to her level.

Her lips were upon mine.

Soft, sweet, quick.

She pulled back, considered me a moment, then was gone.

Such an easy target.

"Where were you?"

Nyko was angry, I was rarely on the receiving end of his anger.

"Well?"

"Finding information."

"And those?"

He motioned toward the cloth about my hands, the gash on my cheek. Everything else was well hidden from his gaze. There was a pain in his eyes.

"I ran into some problems."

If he knew, if Anya knew, their camp would be wiped out in a few hours.

She would be killed.

"I made excuses for you."

"Thank you."

"She wants the drawings."

"She'll get them."

"No, Lincoln!" He massaged his brow, like he always did when trying to think through a problem. "She's already impatient, she needs them now!"

"Tell her I found something interesting. It will take some time."

"Did you?"

Octavia. I was silent. His parting words were not pleasant.

My burning lips were addling my mind.

I'm standing before my wall, before the lines of chalk. My hands brush over the rough surface, feeling the dents and marks the rock has survived over the centuries. I'm drawing something, but I'm not sure what yet.

Something beautiful, like her.

I've been training her, teaching her to step softly, to hold a knife, to slit a throat. Each time she wanders from her camp and back to me, I know it's wrong.

I should have killed her.

But each time I'm lost in that vision, and the white flower she holds in her hand, and the smile on her lips. And I want to recapture them in my own. I want her.

An easy target.

I turn in time to intercept her strike, enclosing her wrist in my much larger grip. There's a knife at my throat, her fisted hand resting against my vest.

"Better?"

Her voice is silky smooth. Consumes me.

"We'll make a warrior out of you yet."

Perhaps it was how the fire light flickered against the hallows of her skin, or how close I could feel her to me, but I pushed aside the knives and brought her lips to mine. My fingers pressed against her locks, the base of her skull and pushed her closer to me.

Pining.

Jacket slides from warm skin.

Perverted.

Wounded hands run up her arms.

Lust.

There's a shift, our bodies pressing firmly together.

Selfish desire.

Her hands, pushing off my vest.

Interest.

My hands cupping her face as I kissed her.

Intrigue.

She's raising my arms, tugging my shirt over my head.

Disgusting.

I wrap my hands about her thighs.

Cursed.

Lift her up, and she wraps her long legs about my torso.

Traitor.

I laid her on the furs of my bedding, before the fire.

And everything still.

The words cycled through my mind, a distant clamor. My heart was heavy in my ears, and all I could see was her heavy gaze and parted lips. I did not know which word fit best. They felt distant. Unimportant.

I wanted her.

I needed her.

A smile appeared a second across my lips, because that's all that mattered. We were there in that moment. I took her hand and entangled it in mine as I leaned down for another kiss. Her lips, down her neck…

She swung herself around, saddling me and looking down upon me.

(To leave. To laugh at how I wanted her. To remind me, I could not have her.)

She revealed herself to me.

The drawing half sketched upon the wall remained half-finished.