The dropship camp was nestled in a clearing surrounded by tall trees, their branches reaching out to create a natural canopy overhead. A makeshift perimeter of logs and branches formed a barrier against the wild and unpredictable world beyond. Tents and lean-tos were scattered throughout the camp, providing shelter for the weary teenagers.
Smoke rose lazily from a central fire pit, casting a warm glow that illuminated the faces of those gathered around. The crackling of flames mingled with the hushed conversations and occasional laughter, creating a subdued but resilient ambiance.
The camp was a testament to the resourcefulness of its inhabitants. Roughly constructed structures stood as a testament to their efforts to create some semblance of normalcy in this unforgiving landscape. Supplies were meticulously organized, their scarcity evident in the careful rationing and practicality with which they were handled.
A sense of community hung in the air, as individuals went about their tasks with a shared purpose. Some tended to a small garden patch, their hands caked in dirt as they nurtured fragile sprouts. Others gathered around a communal cooking area, working together to prepare meager meals that would sustain them through another day. Younger teenagers played nearby, their laughter serving as a reminder of the resilience that still thrived amidst the hardships.
Although the camp had a sense of order and routine, the weariness etched on the faces of its inhabitants hinted at the weight they carried. The scars of their collective experiences were worn on their sleeves, a reminder of the struggles they had endured and the losses they had suffered.
It was in this backdrop of resilience and survival that the news of Bellamy, Clarke, and Amber's return echoed through the camp, momentarily disrupting the fragile equilibrium. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as everyone awaited their arrival, hoping for news, reassurance, or perhaps an ounce of hope in these dark times.
As the call announcing their return rang out through the camp, a ripple of anticipation spread among the kids. Heads turned towards the entrance, their weary faces brightening with a mix of curiosity and relief. The atmosphere buzzed with a renewed energy, as everyone paused their activities to witness the arrival of their fellow survivors.
Amber's gaze remained fixed on the ground, her thoughts consumed by the recent events. She felt detached, as if she were an outsider observing the scene unfold. Her actions weighed heavily on her, but it was not shame or remorse that she felt. Instead, a deep-rooted determination fueled her resolve, pushing her to make the difficult choices she believed were necessary for survival.
The look on Clarke and Blake's faces when Atom finally passed away troubled Amber. It was a complex mix of emotions that she struggled to comprehend. Their expressions held neither disgust nor shock, but rather a profound sympathy, a shared understanding of the pain and suffering that had unfolded. It left Amber feeling frustrated and disconnected, unable to grasp the meaning behind their expressions.
In her heart, Amber knew she carried the burden of being a killer. She had taken lives before, her hands stained with the blood of others. The weight of that reality bore down on her, and she saw herself as someone who had already crossed that line, while Clarke and Bellamy remained on the other side.
Octavia's sudden approach broke the silence, her urgency and determination evident as she stormed towards Bellamy. He quickly shook off his thoughts and focused on his sister's arrival, bracing himself for what she had to say.
"Octavia, just stay there," Bellamy pleaded, trying to halt her advance.
But Octavia refused to heed his words, forcefully pushing against his chest and breaking free from his grasp. She rushed towards the covered body on the ground where Amber stood, her heart pounding with a mix of dread and anticipation.
Bellamy followed closely behind, his voice filled with concern. "Please, stay back, Octavia."
Crouching down beside the covered body, Octavia's hands trembled as she reached for the fabric, her heart racing in anticipation of the truth that lay beneath. With a quick motion, she pulled back the jacket, revealing Atom's raw and bloodied face. The sight confirmed her worst fears, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Atom," Octavia whispered, her voice filled with grief and disbelief.
Bellamy, unable to bear his sister's pain, began to offer an explanation, "There's nothing I could do—"
But Octavia swiftly raised her hand, cutting him off. Her voice shook with a mix of emotions as she silenced him. "Don't."
Amber shifted on her feet, feeling a surge of guilt that she couldn't escape. Her eyes darted between Octavia and Bellamy, sensing the weight of their shared sorrow and pain.
Gathering herself, Octavia took a ragged breath and pulled the fabric back over Atom's lifeless body. She rose abruptly, her eyes avoiding contact with her brother, and started to walk back toward the dropship, the weight of her emotions heavy upon her.
The camp fell into a somber silence, the air filled with grief and the unspoken burden of loss. Amber remained rooted in place, her heart heavy.
"O—Please—" Bellamy began to follow after Octavia, but somebody stepped in front of him. It was Amber, shaking her head solemnly, a strange sight to see. A few seconds later, her brother joined her side. He had overheard the two's argument the day prior before he had asked Amber to join him on the hunting trip. It seemed that both sibling duos weren't getting along so well now that they were on the ground. Another thing in common with the golden-eyed girl in front of him. Bellamy sniffed, ending his prolonged eye contact with Amber and instead darting his eyes to the ground.
"Lose anyone here?" He asked John, and his sister turned to face him. Despite what John had said to her, he was still her baby brother. She respected him and cared for him. He could hate her guts and never want to be near her ever again, and she would still do whatever it takes to know that he's alive.
"No," John replied, his face remaining stoic.
"Jasper?" Bellamy's eyes remained fixed on the ground, while Amber stared at her brother, waiting for an answer. Jasper had saved her life, not that she deserved it, but there was something in her that... cared.
"Still breathing," John answered, pausing momentarily. Amber let out a relieved breath, relieved to hear that Jasper was still alive. "Barely. I tried to take him out, but your psycho little sister—"
Suddenly, Blake plunged towards John, pushing him back with force. Amber's vision went red, and she instinctively stepped forward, ready to intervene and pull Blake off her brother. However, she was held back by someone, snapping her back to reality. Frustrated, Amber forcefully shoved the person holding her back away without even looking at them. She lifted her foot and stamped down on theirs, forcing them to retreat.
"My what?!" Blake's face was inches away from John's, his voice echoing through the entire camp. Amber's heart raced, unsure of how to diffuse the escalating situation. She desperately wanted to protect her brother, but she also wanted to prevent any further violence.
"Your little sister," John replied, his voice steady.
"Yeah, that's right. My little sister. Got anything else you want to say about her?" Blake stood his ground, his anger evident in his voice. Amber could only watch, torn between her loyalty to her brother and her desire for a peaceful resolution. What was holding her back? It was only a few days ago that she had punched Wells without a second thought.
"Nothing," John responded in a monotone voice, his face remaining expressionless.
Blake inhaled sharply, finally stepping away from John. He turned to a few kids who obeyed his every command. "Get him out of here," he ordered, referring to Atom's lifeless body still lying on the ground. In an instant, Bellamy disappeared along with the onlookers, leaving Amber and John behind, two individuals with tarnished reputations.
John seemed unaware that he wasn't alone. He huffed through his nostrils, grinding his teeth in frustration. Gripping tightly on the knife in his pocket, he didn't hold it for more than a moment before he threw it, forcefully pinning it into the center of a nearby tree. The metallic sound reverberated through the camp, symbolizing the tension and anger that hung in the air.
Amber watched the knife quiver in the tree, a small smirk playing on her lips. "And you say I'm drawing attention to myself," her voice laced with amusement. Retrieving her own knife from her pocket, she mimicked John's actions, throwing it up in the air and catching it before launching it towards the tree, landing it exactly parallel to his. She took pride in her knife-throwing skills, honed over the years. She had always been the more agile and adept one between the two siblings.
John's eyes settled on Amber's smaller frame, unimpressed by her display of skill. "I can't remember you ever being this annoying on the Ark," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Amber raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Come on, John, why do you suddenly hate me so much?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. Hate was a strong word, but Amber had never shied away from using strong words when necessary.
Closing the distance between them, John furrowed his brows. "I don't hate you, Amb. You know that," he replied, his voice carrying a touch of sincerity. Amber rolled her eyes, dismissing his attempt to downplay their strained relationship.
Clearing her throat, Amber lowered her voice and imitated John's tone. "Amber you of all people should shut your mouth up before people think you're going to go all American Psycho on their asses," she said, referencing one of the few surviving novels they had read during their time on the Ark. There was a glint of humor in her eyes as her exaggerated impression of John fell flat.
John couldn't help but laugh genuinely, a sound that was a rarity for him. "I didn't say that," he admitted, still chuckling at Amber's attempt to mock him.
Amber grinned, satisfied with her small victory. Walking toward the tree where her knife was lodged, she removed it with a swift motion, tucking it into her waistband. She then retrieved John's knife from the tree and handed it back to him with a rough gesture.
"You killed Atom, huh?" John's question caught Amber off guard. She furrowed her brows, wondering how he had deduced that fact.
"Yeah, someone had to do it," Amber replied, her tone steady. Although John didn't appear to be accusing her, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. There was a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was pondering something.
"And you thought it should be you because you're the murderer with nothing to lose?" John's words hit home, striking a chord within Amber. She looked up, meeting her brother's eyes, a mixture of emotions swirling within her.
"How could you tell it was me who did it?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability. She had expected a profound and analytical response from John, something only he could unravel. But his answer didn't align with her expectations.
"Blood on your hands, literally." John remarked, his voice tinged with a mixture of intrigue and subtle admiration. Amber's gaze shifted to her left wrist and palm, noticing the dried blood that adorned her skin. Her expression twisted with a mix of surprise and self-reproach. She hastily brought her hand closer to her face, spitting into her palm without a second thought. Her nonchalant demeanor in the face of such gruesome evidence intrigued John, who watched her intently.
Amber rubbed her saliva into her hand, diligently trying to remove the stain of her actions. Once satisfied with the result, she dropped her hands to her side and absentmindedly wiped them on her black jeans. John's gaze held a peculiar mixture of fascination and approval, recognizing that his sister possessed a peculiar resilience in the face of their dark reality.
"Amber, you and I aren't like the others, and you know that," John stated, his voice filled with an unspoken understanding. The weight of their shared experiences hung heavily in the air. Amber met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a sense of innocence and a flicker of hope.
"It doesn't have to be like that," she thought silently, her thoughts reaching out to her brother. John's reaction was one of surprise, realizing that his sister still clung to a glimmer of optimism in their bleak existence.
"Saving a few people's asses doesn't make you a hero, Amb," John countered, crossing his arms and maintaining his composed stance. He awaited her retort, knowing that Amber possessed a sharp tongue and an unwavering determination.
"And sucking up to Blake's ass doesn't make you a good guy either," Amber shot back, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. Their banter danced on the edge of darkness.
A faint smirk curved the corner of John's lips, a testament to the peculiar sibling dynamics they shared. "Don't you realize we're the bad guys by default? It's literally how we were raised, it's in the way we walk—"
Amber's expression turned defiant, her eyes glinting with a mixture of defiance and playfulness. "You didn't even kill anyone when you set the guard's quarters on fire. We're not exactly on the same level of bad guy. I'd say I'm pretty much a better bad guy than you," she declared, the tension between them dissipating momentarily as their shared humor prevailed.
In that moment, the siblings found solace in their twisted bond, like two bad kids serving time-out in a sandbox.
"Shut up," John retorted, his voice devoid of humor or playfulness. His words carried a weight of seriousness that cut through the air, silencing any hint of levity between them.
Amber's expression faltered for a moment, realizing the gravity of the situation. She nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Okay, but there are other murderers in the camp," she remarked, her tone less confrontational now. "I, personally, wouldn't really say I have clear psychopathic tendencies, but there are surely others who do."
Her brother's gaze bore into her, his eyes piercing through the layers of their shared history. "The others stay quiet, unlike you. You see how we feel the need to jump into action when something's going wrong, or even when something's going right?" His voice resonated with a somber understanding. "We love chaos."
Amber remained silent, her features a mix of contemplation and resignation. She knew he was right, their propensity for chaos ingrained in their very beings. It was a truth they both struggled to confront.
"So what?" she finally replied, her voice lacking defiance but carrying an underlying acceptance. She knew the implications of their shared nature, the weight of blame that would inevitably fall on their shoulders.
John's gaze intensified, his eyes fixed on his older sister. "So, when things turn to shit, we only have each other. We'll be the first to blame, even if some dumb kid trips on a rock and cracks his head open, there'll be someone pointing the finger at you," he explained, his tone laced with a mixture of protectiveness and weariness.
Amber raised an eyebrow, understanding the truth in his words. She wasn't disagreeing; in fact, she agreed with every sentiment he expressed. Yet, confusion tinged her expression as she questioned his motives. "Is there a point to all of this? Or are you just attacking me for no reason?" Her words carried a touch of skepticism, seeking clarity amidst the weight of their conversation.
"Amber, don't get attached to anyone. Don't make friends. Don't make enemies," John continued, his arms gesturing emphatically. His sister's eyes narrowed, a mix of defiance and understanding playing in her gaze. She crossed her arms tightly, shifting on her feet, ready to absorb his next words.
"Keep the leaders close. Remain neutral. So on, so forth," he concluded, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Amber couldn't help but offer a wry smile, a sense of satisfaction filling her.
"So, that's why you're sucking up to Blake's ass," she quipped, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes. "I sure know an ulterior motive when I see one."
In that moment, their dark bond was reinforced, a silent agreement to navigate the treacherous landscape of survival together, no matter the sacrifices or alliances they had to make. The weight of their shared burden became a source of strength, their brooding personalities aligning in a dance of resilience and calculated choices.
"Don't act like you're so innocent." It was him shifting on his feet now, "I saw the way you stopped him from going after Octavia before. Not to mention saving her ass from a snake, saving his ass from a cat, covering his and Clarke's ass to mercy-kill Atom.. My big sister, trying to make friends."
"Shut up Murphy before I beat your brains in, I loathe Blake and everything he's about. I think I've made that clear enough. He's a cocky egomaniac." She spat, ready to walk away before she saw the look on her brother's face. She sighed before she confessed, "For fuck sakes- I was stuck in a cave with him last night. Him, me, and that little girl Charlotte. We talked for like five minutes just to pass the time, we're not friends and will never be, I don't have time for friends when I'm too busy worrying about your sociopathic ass getting into trouble."
Murphy gave her a look, a mix of both disgust and suspicion. She knew what he was thinking. Immediately, her stomach churned, "God, John– don't be fucking gross." Amber, with the blink of an eye, landed a powerful punch to her little brother's arm. He winced, cursing under his breath.
Rubbing his shoulder, "I was fucking kidding."
Amber dropped her hands, a satisfied smile curling on her lips. "God, I hate you so much," she muttered playfully, a hint of affection underlying her words.
"I love you too, Amb," John replied with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with the familiarity of their banter. He began to back away, ready to retreat to his own space for the night. "Now I'm going to get to bed before Jasper starts screaming again."
As he turned to leave, a thought struck him, causing him to pause. "Oh, by the way, you're helping with building the wall tomorrow," he announced, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Amber's enthusiasm waned, and she let out a sigh. "Do I have a choice in the matter?" she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Not really. Bellamy's orders," John responded matter-of-factly, a teasing tone lacing his words. He chuckled, walking away in the direction of the drop ship, leaving Amber standing there with an unimpressed expression on her face.
"Night, Amber," he called over his shoulder, his laughter trailing behind him.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "Night," she muttered, her voice tinged with both annoyance and fondness. As she watched her brother disappear into the darkness, Amber couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort knowing that, despite their complicated relationship and brooding personalities, they had each other.