Chapter 1

My foot connecting with a tree root forced me out of my thoughts as I stumbled, nearly falling. I clutched my chest at the jolt of adrenaline and righted myself. For the first time since leaving the dropship, I looked around the forest I had entered early that morning. I made a slow turn, every tree and rock identical, making me feel like I was in a room full of mirrors.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. "Ain't this par for the course. Rook, my girl, you've gone and gotten yourself lost."

I sighed and scratched my head, grimacing that it had been nearly a month since I'd had a shower. I looked back in the direction I thought I'd come, but the forest was too fucking similar, and I wasn't sure I had even come that way.

"Oh, fuck me," I sat against the tree that had tripped me.

Looking up through the canopy, I noticed plenty of daylight left to find my way back to the dropship. I closed my eyes and tried to remember my direction this morning. If I had circled the camp before heading out, but I was coming up blank. In consternation, I hit the back of my head on the tree and glared outward. My hands twitched with the sudden need to do something, but I had nothing to mess with. To fix. To hit. I sighed and thunked my head against the tree again. I could find my way through the most complex schematic on the Ark, but ask me for directions, and I'd always come up empty, usually when some design or image of a certain blonde or brunette occupied my mind.

I growled and pushed myself off the ground, looking up at the sky again and wondering if the brunette, Raven, was still alive. If she was struggling to breathe. Or if she was going about her job as clueless as the rest of the Ark was. Back before my arrest, Raven and I were in the same program. Our chosen mentors picked us both earlier than the average age. And both were vying for the top spot. For the first time in my life, I met someone who could keep up with me and challenged me in a way no one had before. Raven's personality was fiery and boisterous, and fuck, was she unabashedly blunt. Unafraid to call anyone out if they were being an idiot or in the wrong. Raven knew what she wanted and was determined not to let anything stand in her way of getting it. Her self-confidence was just on this side of being cocky, but she had every right to be; Raven was just that damn good of a mechanic. And fuck, did I wish I had an ounce of whatever Raven had. Maybe I could have stopped what happened to me sooner if I did.

Unthinkingly, I reached over and ran my thumb over a faint line that ran the length of my right forearm.

My mind then traveled to the blonde, one Clarke Griffin. She had come down with the rest of us juvenile prisoners, labeled a traitor for knowing the Ark was dying. Clarke had captivated me even before I realized I was attracted to women. She was always kind and soft-spoken but with hidden steel in her spine. She had this presence that people naturally gravitated to, and even though she was privileged, Clarke never acted like it. But God, I was enthralled when I saw her after four years. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd seen, barring the brunette. She had curves I wanted to trace with my fingertips and taste with my lips. Golden blonde hair I imagined wrapping my hands in. Blue eyes that I wanted to see darken as I…

I took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts away. It was a waste even to entertain such thoughts because she'd never notice or think of me that way. Not when there was Spacewalker, Finn Collins, being his charming self. But then again, I might've nipped that in the bud after I accidentally blurted that he had a girlfriend in front of Clarke. Unfortunately, Collins wasn't the only one interested in the blonde. There was also Bellamy Blake, but he tended to annoy Clarke rather than charm her. But that didn't mean I had a chance. I was a nobody. Just some mechanic who got into fights.

That's what had gotten me thrown in Lockup. I beat some asshole when he called me names I never wanted to be repeated, even to myself, and relentlessly bullied me. I nearly killed him without realizing it before several guards dragged me away. I didn't even get a trial to defend myself, not that it would have mattered. I was just some kid from Factory, barely worth the rations and air. Just a waste of space.

I didn't even get a chance to change my clothes or wash the man's blood off me. I was taken straight to my cell and dumped there like unrecyclable garbage. Left to stew in filth until the designated weekly mandatory shower that I had somehow just missed.

And I did what I had to for four years to keep my sanity. Since I couldn't work on anything mechanical, I fought. Gained a reputation as a brawler among the guards and hired protection among the prisoners. I spent over half my time in Lockup stuck in solitary because of it, and the guards had honestly considered leaving me there until my eighteenth. I sometimes wondered why they hadn't; it would have saved them the headache of filling out the constant reports.

I shoved those memories back into the recesses of my mind before they turned to darker thoughts. Instead, I tried to focus on how to get myself back to the dropship before dark. Picking a random direction, I started walking, knowing I wouldn't recognize anything since I hadn't even been paying the slightest attention.

As I walked, my mind slipped back to what had taken me out of camp this morning. The probable hasty repair on the dropship hadn't been able to withstand the force of re-entry. Panels had been torn and wires fried from the intense heat. It certainly hadn't helped that two idiots had gone flying into pipes, destroying who knew what.

And ever eager to gain attention, I volunteered my limited skills with electronics to help Monty attempt to repair communications. I had been on cloud nine for days after the smile Clarke had given me for doing so. Unfortunately, that feeling faded the longer we went without success, and old feelings and thoughts began to resurface. My parents' voices berated me in a never-ending cycle, feeding my insecurities.

Which was the reason why I had left camp. I didn't want Clarke to hate me because we failed. My self-hatred was crippling enough, and disappointing the blonde of my dreams would probably kill me. I had hoped that a walk through the forest would give my brain the kickstart needed to solve the problem. Unfortunately, my walk only provided an opportunity to get lost.

I don't know how long I walked, but suddenly, a prickling sensation ran down my back, jarring me from my thoughts. I stopped in my tracks, my body tensing. It felt as if I was being watched. I slowly reached behind me and withdrew my axe. I had a knife in my boot, but I wasn't sure I wanted to risk bending down to retrieve it. I wasn't keen on giving whatever I had felt an opportunity to attack me. I shifted the axe until it was gripped firmly in my hand, reaching out with my senses. The sensation was coming from my left. I was sure of it. But looking, I couldn't make out anything in the brush. That didn't mean there wasn't anything there; I just couldn't see it yet.

I took a deep breath and cautiously walked forward, my eyes glancing wildly around me in anticipation. I could feel sweat starting to slide down my spine and face. One drip descended over my eye, and I reached up to wipe it away. The next thing I knew, a loud growl and twigs were snapping. I turned to see a giant wolf launch at me, its giant maw aimed at my throat. I instinctively threw up my arm, and it latched onto it. Teeth pierced my skin, deep enough to embed themselves in the bones, and I could hear and feel them break. I screamed in pain as the wolf's weight made me fall, pinning me to the ground as it tore at my arm. In a panic, I swung my axe and felt the jarring connection as it met flesh and muscle. The wolf relinquished its hold, howling in pain, and bounded away from me. It nearly pulled the axe out of my hand, but I held on with a death grip. I scrambled to my feet and held my bloody arm tight against my chest as I backed further away from the injured wolf.

It was as white as pictures of snow that I'd seen. With the bluest eyes, so much like the blonde's that, I nearly lost myself in them before it came at me again. I knew I couldn't outrun it, so I crouched low and waited. It relaunched itself, but I slipped sideways, swinging the axe, biting it in its side, and wrenching it out. I backed out of its reach, already breathing hard, as I felt blood soak my shirt from my arm. I wanted to look, but I knew the wolf would strike when I did. The wolf became my sole focus. Blood streamed down its side and somewhere along its shoulder, coloring its coat red, but it still had the strength to get up, growling.

When it faced me, it let out such a horrifying howl that I wanted to cover my ears to block the sound. The message was clear. It wanted me dead, but I wasn't going to give up so easily. I swallowed the fear creeping up my throat, and as it neared, I launched myself at it, determined to go down fighting. We met, and claws dug into me, shredding clothes and flesh. Its jaw clamped down on my shoulder, and I screamed again in pain. I swung my axe repeatedly, hacking at its flesh as we tumbled to the ground.

This time, the impact knocked the axe out of my hand, sending it flying and out of reach. I couldn't move under the wolf's weight, feeling its growls reverberating through my body. It became harder to breathe as its body grew heavier. Its growls grew quieter, drawing my eyes, and I was suddenly locked into a death stare with the wolf. Its deep blue eye captured my own gray. Darkness tinged my sight as the color faded from the wolf's, and I felt tears fall down my face. I didn't know why I was crying. It wasn't like I had anything to go back to. Or anyone. I had had a shitty life, and the voices in my head echoed that I deserved this. I deserved to die alone with only a dying wolf to keep me company. But even as I fell unconscious, a stray thought persisted:

Would anyone notice

if tonight I disappeared?

Would anyone chase me

And say the words that I need to hear?

- "Would Anyone Care." Citizen Soldier

Dropship

Clarke POV

Something had been off all day, but I couldn't put my finger on it, no matter how often I tried to figure it out. The feeling was persistent, and it only worsened as the day grew longer. Like now, as I sat in the bottom level tearing old shirts into strips for bandages, a nagging feeling kept drawing my eye towards Monty. Yet, I couldn't figure out why; whenever I looked at him, I felt like I was missing something.

Glancing over one more time, I saw that Monty was working at an open panel of the dropship, and as I watched, he looked over toward the ramp, sighed, and shook his head with a frown before turning back to the wires in his hands.

With a furrowed brow, I got up after watching him do the same thing several times. But as I moved toward him, a sharp, intense stabbing pain hit me in the side, making me cry out and lose my breath. Tears immediately sprung and fell down my face as I bent over, clutching my left side, whimpering in pain even as I tried to breathe. I vaguely heard Monty call my name as feet rushed toward me, but I couldn't answer. It was taking everything in me not to collapse in pain.

Just as I caught my breath, pain erupted again across my back but closer to my left shoulder, and I arched my back from the force. I felt a scream rip from my throat, and I crumpled to the ground, curling inward, wanting to shy away from the pain. I felt more than heard more steps rushing into the dropship and voices rising in concern, but I couldn't spare any of them any thought as I vainly tried to breathe through the pain coursing through my back and side.

But before I could think or breathe, my back and left side were repeatedly hit with blinding, sharp pain. I think I screamed again; my eyes squeezed so tightly that I saw bursts of light behind my lids even as I felt darkness creeping in. The final straw was the feeling of pain encompassing my left shoulder as if something had latched on with a multitude of sharp, pointed objects, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

I think I dreamt. I dreamt of blinding whiteness and being pelted with frozen shards of something. A consuming feeling of grief and failure. The need to flee from the pain of heartache. The regret of leaving.

I dreamt of green forests and warm, gentle breezes. Of colorful meadows and golden sunlight. A constant ache in the void that was my chest. I felt unworthy of the beauty I found myself in. Getting lost as I searched for something.

I dreamt of being pulled deeper beneath the green canopy. Guided toward something that kindled a spark in my empty chest. I heard a lamenting, velvety voice that echoed the same pain I felt. A silver shadow that crumbled under my assault, merging into one being.

I dreamt of hope and redemption.

I woke with a gasp, shooting upright as I wildly looked around before groaning in pain and laying back down.

"Well, that's one way to wake up," a teasing female voice made my eyes snap open.

I shifted my head to find Octavia sitting on the floor in front of the entrance to my tent. I licked my lips and cleared my throat, hoping to ease the dryness as I croaked, "What happened?"

Octavia stood up and sat on my cot, "Was hoping you could tell me that, princess. A bunch of us heard you scream bloody murder, and when we rushed in, you were curled up on the ground. You jerked like you were being hit and then passed out. Bell brought you here."

I slowly pushed myself up, my back and left side throbbing, and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. "I'm not sure what happened, O. I got up to ask Monty why he kept looking toward the ramp when I got hit by incredible pain. Literally drove the breath out of me. And every time I thought it might ease up, I was hit with more until I passed out."

Octavia frowned, studying me, "So, anything like that happened before? Or, you know, did you feel off or anything?"

I shrugged, "No. I mean, I felt like something was off all day, but not like something internal. Do you know what I mean?"

The petite brunette's frown deepened, "You mean like there was something in the air kinda off?"

I nodded, "Yeah, like that. Like something was missing. But nothing that would make me pass out in pain."

"Are you still in pain," she asked.

"Yeah," I replied and began taking off my jacket. "Since you're here, do you mind checking my back and side? Maybe I got stung or bit by something."

Octavia nodded, getting up and retrieving the lone lantern in my tent. I removed my shirt and turned around so she could look at my back. I felt the heat of the lantern draw close to my skin.

"The left side of your back from shoulder to waist is a bit red, Clarke," Octavia said. "There's also some faint lines going down it."

I looked over my shoulder at her, "Can you lightly trace them?"

She looked askance at me, "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you any more than you already are."

I reassuringly smiled at her, "Yeah. Please."

Octavia nodded and lightly began running a finger over the lines she had seen. I closed my eyes to feel them better and realized where she traced was where I felt the pain coming from.

"Did that hurt," Octavia quietly asked.

I shook my head when I felt her step back and pulled my shirt on, "No." I sighed and turned around, planting my feet on the ground. "It was probably a bad muscle spasm. And the marks could be from anything," I dismissively stated, watching as she set the lantern back down. "How many people did I freak out?"

Octavia snorted, "Like the whole damn camp. Monty was practically beside himself, thinking he had done something. Bellamy thought you were attacked, and Finn jumped at that, claiming Rook did something to you."

I frowned, "Rook?"

"You know the brunette with the gray eyes and killer right hook that's been helping Monty," Octavia explained, looking at me curiously.

I incredulously gaped at her, "That was Rook?!"

Octavia nodded, confused, "Uh, yeah. Who else would it have been?"

I felt heat flush my cheeks, "Fuck. I didn't realize it was her. I haven't seen her since we were kids."

"Really," Octavia exclaimed, shaking her head. "We've been here a whole month, and you didn't know. Were you that wrapped up in Finn's Prince Charming act?"

I grimaced and grumbled, "Nooo. I just…Rook looks nothing like she did back then, and I didn't even know she was in Lockup."

The petite brunette leaned back and blinked a couple of times, "Wow. Okay. Wait. How could you not know? She was your dad's apprentice."

I sheepishly looked away, shrugging, "I don't know. I never really went to see Dad in his workshop; he only brought Rook over a couple of times for dinner. I didn't even know we were the same age until Dad brought it up. I just…never noticed her before."

Octavia disappointedly shook her head, "Wow. That's…that's…that's really self-absorbed, Clarke. God, no wonder she always looked like a kicked puppy whenever you'd walk away. Rook's invisible to you."

I frowned, offended, "What?! No, she's not!"

Octavia raised a brow in challenge, "Really? Okay. Who stopped the fight between Wells and Murphy?"

I looked at her in confusion, "Why—"

"Just answer the question, Clarke," Octavia huffed.

"Fi—"

Octavia made a buzzing noise, "Wrong answer. Rook did. She stepped up and got Murphy to back down before Finn made his grand entrance. Who grabbed you when you fell into that trap?"

"Be—"

"Wrong again," Octavia interrupted. "Rook grabbed you and practically pulled you up single-handedly, but big brother shoved her out of the way the moment you pulled yourself up. Who cut Murphy down when you accused him of killing Wells?"

I defeatedly sighed, "It wasn't Finn, was it? It was Rook."

The brunette nodded, "Yeah, even before the rope tightened, she cut him down and defended Murphy until Charlotte confessed."

"Fuck," I raked my hand through my hair and bit my lip. "And Rook's been helping Monty, hasn't she?"

"Yep," Octavia said, popping the 'p.' "Rook's been working on the comms even after Monty's passed out except for today. Monty said she was going for a walk to help clear her head but hasn't returned yet. Rook's been gone all day."

I moaned, "God, that must be why I've felt off all day. I got used to seeing her with Monty that when Rook wasn't, I noticed."

"But you didn't know why," she pointed out, making me moan again.

"Fuck. God, that makes me feel like a shitty person," I griped. "How the fuck did I not see Rook?" A thought struck me, and I blinked at the brunette. "Wait. Why would Finn think Rook did something to me?"

"You're kidding, right," Octavia gaped at me in surprise and snorted when I shook my head. "Rook's the reason we all realized Finn has a girlfriend on the Ark and why you stopped flirting with him. He's pissed at her because none of the girls want anything to do with him anymore. And specifically, because you've been avoiding him every chance you get. So, any chance Finn has to bad mouth Rook, he takes it. Don't you remember him saying shit about Rook and all the fights she used to get in when we were in Lockup?"

"God dammit," I groaned. "God, I've been oblivious."

Octavia nodded, "Yeah, you have. Especially since she's been bending over backward to help you and saved your life. You owe her big time when she gets back."

I nodded, sighing, "Yeah, I do." Cringing, I asked, "This is gonna make me sound even worse, but I can't even picture what she looks like. Do you…would you mind describing her while I draw Rook?"

"Damn, Clarke," Octavia shook her head and sighed. "But yeah, sure. I'll help you draw Rook. Hopefully, this time, you'll remember her."

"Me too," I mumbled, retrieving the drawing pad Finn had gotten me. I moved the lantern closer to my cot and sat down, pencil poised over the paper. "Alright. Please describe Rook in as much detail as you can. I want to get her right."

So, Octavia patiently described the older brunette, stopping to point out where I got something wrong in the drawing. When we were done, I studied the picture for a long time, and I couldn't help wondering how I could have ignored Rook for so long. Rook was beautiful, but I noticed sadness and pain in her eyes, making me wonder what made her that way if it was me or something else.

I gently traced the picture's jawline, murmuring, "Rook's beautiful."

Octavia hummed, leaning over my shoulder to look at the drawing, "Yeah, she is. Surprised the fuck out of me that no one's tried to get with her."

I looked at her in surprise, "What?"

Octavia nodded, "Yeah. It's true. But it could also be that she's beat up most of the guys at least once." She shrugged. "Everyone kinda steers clear of her, except for a few. Me, 'Roe, Harper, and Monty. And…Wells. We're the only ones she talks to."

"Why does she look so sad," I quietly asked.

"Not my place to tell," Octavia replied. "But like most of us, life was shitty. So, yeah. Now, you know what Rook looks like. And now that you have a picture of her, you have no reason not to remember."

I cringed, "Yeah. I don't think I can forget about her now. Thanks, O."

Octavia smirked, "No prob, princess. Any time you need some sense knocked into you."

I ruefully chuckled, "I know who to ask for. But thank you, too, for keeping an eye on me."

Octavia ducked her head, "Sure. Figured you'd prefer me over Bell or Finn."

"Definitely," I replied and yawned. "Damn. You'd think I wouldn't be tired after that impromptu nap, but..."

The brunette stood up, "You're also in pain, Clarke. What is it you always tell us? A body needs rest to heal. Maybe the muscle spasm, or whatever it was, was your body's way of telling you to rest. And not the few hours you give yourself."

I laughed, "You're probably right. Keep it up, Blake. I'll make a nursing assistant out of you yet."

Octavia grimaced, backing out of the tent, "Uh, no thanks. I do not want to clean up puke or whatever other disgusting mess comes from people. I'd rather listen to Jasper fumbling through bad pick-up lines."

"You and me both, O," I said, laughing. "I'll see you in the morning."

Octavia nodded, "Yep. I'll be there to ensure you start making it up to Rook."

I nodded in agreement, and she left with a two-finger salute. Sighing, I studied the picture in my lap, chastising myself for being blind for so long. I really owed Rook. I owed her a lot, and I owed her my life.

When I finally settled for the night, I dreamt of gray eyes and a cold landscape.

I never got to make it up to the gray-eyed brunette as she became one more guilty regret laid heavily on my soul. Rook never came back to the dropship.