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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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023.
STEP BY STEP.
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   Robin woke up, screaming.

"Hold her still!"

   She could feel burning in her thigh, a blossoming pain that sent her into hysterics, shrieking and kicking, trying to get away from it.

But, pain couldn't be escaped. Robin had learned that long ago, the hard way. Pain was inescapable. It was something her mother had taught her. Contrary to her father's beliefs, her mother said that, to live, you had to feel pain; pain demanded to be felt. Robin had never understood true pain until her mother died. Then, she understood it. She felt it, first hand. All of it. Loss, grief, heartache. It was pain unlike anything else. Worse than paper cuts, and scuffed knees and bruised elbows. Losing her mother was an ineffable pain, pain that she never wished upon anyone. But, she understood it. She got it. It demanded to be felt, no matter how hard she tried suppress it, that kind of pain had to be felt. Robin felt it, much like she felt this: skin burning, scream inducing, nauseating, immeasurable pain.

Robin tossed, writhing around. Her shoulders were restrained by a pair of hands, and her back pressed into metal. Robin screamed; louder than before.

"Jace, you have to keep her still!" Clarke.

"I'm trying!"

Something about that made Robin angry rather than soothed. It didn't make her feel any better that she was in the dropship, or that she was in the hands of Clarke Griffin rather than a grounder. She didn't feel any better, at all. Robin didn't like Clarke. She was in an awful amount of pain, and the last thing Robin wanted was for her doctor to be Clarke. Clarke Griffin had got her arrested — Clarke'd been the sole reason she was in this situation: bleeding and in plenty of pain. Robin was on earth, but in pain regardless. She hated her!

"Robin!"

"I'm almost done, okay?"

"Lox, hey—" a soothing voice sounded, somewhere to the left of her. A hand grabbed her own, "It's alright, little bird."

Robin settled, a fraction. She gripped onto the hand and cried in pain, but she didn't kick. Rather, Robin dealt with it. It hurt no less, but she lived through it. She lived through it until it stopped, and it was replaced with a dull throb and burnt flesh.

"Done!"

"Fuck you, blondie." Robin croaked.

"We had to do it as soon as possible," she said. Her hands were quick and nimble as she tried the clean cloth around Robin's fresh wound of blistered skin. Clarke sighed, "You would have bled out."

"She saved your life," Raven spoke up. She sounded frazzled; it wasn't the usual Raven Reyes, that was for sure. Robin could see it when she opened her tired eyes. The mechanic was covered in red, the blood smearing her skin. Robin didn't know if it was hers, or if it was Finn's. "So, shut up."

She scoffed.

"You knocked out on the way back." Another voice, and Robin looked up to see Jace Williams hovering above her. He was the one who had held her shoulders. "Honestly? Thought you were dead. I almost made Bellamy throw you into the forest as grounder food, a close call, really—" he stopped rambling when she shot him a dark glare, "—oh, c'mon! I was kidding!" Jace defended. "Bellamy might have killed me too, if I even tried. He almost punched me!"

"Bellamy?" Her nose scrunched.

"Yeah— he carried you, the whole way." Jace shrugged.

"He did?" Robin couldn't remember much.

She remembered being carried, and counting footsteps until she eventually passed out. Robin remembered Finn being hit, too. She remembered when the winds had started to pick up, and Bellamy's loud voice barking orders.

Robin also remembered Finn bleeding more as time went by, his skin pale, and Jace and Jasper yelling in panic that he wouldn't live to see the dropship. Robin hadn't been far better, although she did think she had gotten off lightly in comparison to their spacewalker. Finn was the kid with a knife in his abdomen, after all. Robin knew it was bad. He had been dying slowly, last she remembered. Unless enough time had passed that Clarke had fixed him up real good, it was likely that he still was. Her mouth went dry at the thought. She didn't want Finn Collins to die, she realised.

Seven-thousand and... thirty-seven...

She remembered naming Bellamy's footsteps, before they sped up and they dashed into camp.

There were other things: like when Bellamy would speak up, ask her if she was alive; however, he stopped asking after a short while of getting I don't wanna talk to you as a response. Eventually, Bellamy just bit his tongue and kept on walking. If she died up there then it was her fault, at that point. She didn't blame him, really.

"Any luck with the radio?" Clarke asked, eyes on Raven. Robin looked at the mechanic with raised brows, wondering whether she had heard correctly.

"You fixed the radio?"

"Not yet," she grimaced.

"Alright," Robin nodded to herself. She started to pull herself to a sit, grunting.

"Hey!" Clarke snapped as she pushed her back down. It was at that moment that Robin realised she was covered in blood, too. As much as Raven was, if not more. Her blonde hair was messy, stuck in odd tufts and falling out from her braid. "What are you doing?"

"Helping."

"You can help by staying put," she said.

"And you can help but shoving outta my business," Robin spat at her, eyes narrowed into slits; "Get the hell outta my way, princess! I won't ask so damn nicely, next time."

    "I said no," Clarke returned the glare. "I know you don't like me and you sure as god don't listen to me, but I just cauterised your leg and stopped your from bleeding out. Finn is over there, with a knife in his chest, and I can't help him! But, I could help you— so, could you just stay put like I asked you, and make my life easier?" Sharp, her tones cut through the dropship. A few kids turned to look. "We are already losing Finn. We are not losing you, too!"

   Robin stewed in silence.

   Clarke had never spoken to her like that. Usually, she wouldn't so much as dare look at her wrong; Robin Loxely intimidated Clarke.

    "Okay..." Jace puffed out his cheeks and guided Robin's to inch back, a bit. He and Raven exchanged a look, "How about we just lighten up on the throttle, yeah?" It stayed silent. "Cool, cool. See? That's better, right?"

    "Shut up."

    "Ah— shutting up," Jace nodded.

    "We still need a working radio," Raven cut into the situation, a crease in her brow. There was something else to her face that told Robin this was about more than her help, and the look on Clarke's face confirmed that. "My boyfriend's gonna die if we don't talk to your mom! You need me to make a radio, and I need her." She gave Robin a nod.

    "That settles it, then." Robin's face was smug, painfully so. "We work on the radio, you focus on Finn not dying." She rose both of her brows in a look of challenge, as if daring her to say something else that would piss them off. She didn't. "Any objections?" It only got an eye roll from the blonde, and Jace opted to avert eye contact until he was sure it was safe to make his presence known again. He was scared of the women, admittedly, because none of them would even hesitate to beat him up if he said something wrong. Jace knew he would lose in a fight against any of them. He decided he was a lot better off not trying. His choice went down well with Robin, as she nodded. "Great. Now, someone help me up and get me to that radio."

    "Aye, captain!" Jace saluted.

   He helped her up and pulled her arm over his shoulder, holding her weight. He was practically carrying her, but he didn't mind. It was Robin, after all.

   As they passed Finn, she tried to avert her eyes.

   That ended up in stumbling, but she couldn't look at him for too long without feeling queasy and faint.

   Not because of the blood, and the gore. It wasn't because Robin didn't want to see him, either. It was more that she couldn't. Robin's heart couldn't bare to look at Finn, when he was like that. She had grown warm to spacewalker, gone soft. Since waking to see him on their first day, when the dropship landed; Finn had grown on her.

He was like a leech. Finn Collins clung onto you and no amount of shaking would get him to let go. He was always there. That had been a reason she didn't care for him much, on the ark. Finn never disappeared; he was always there, venturing around and appearing in the most bizarre places. That, and he was cocky. And smart, and likeable, and full of himself. Everyone liked Finn. Upon being sent to earth, Robin had started to realise why. She felt drawn to him in a way she couldn't describe and would never admit. She wondered if that was why he had stuck to her like glue, that first day. Or, tried to — until she shot him down. Did Finn feel it, too?

She wasn't sure. There was no telling.

He couldn't die.

If he died— well, Robin didn't want to think about it. It wasn't often that Robin cared for people. But she cared for Finn, although wouldn't tell him that, and Robin didn't want Finn to die.

She could feel the grimace on her face and she knew Jace saw it, and Raven who had started pulling wires to show her, but neither of them say anything. Perhaps they passed it off as all pain, which wasn't a lie.

Robin was in plenty of pain. Her shoulder ached and her leg was difficult to walk on, and her head had started pounding. She made a note to smack Bellamy Blake around the head, one day when the man least expected it, to see how much he appreciated it. Thinking about the radio made her angry, again — thinking about it caused her to think back on the culling, and her father, and whether fixing the radio would only unveil things she didn't wish to discover. That was where she took his advice, not her mom's. Emotion was for babies.

Back to work, she took a breath and looked at the wires. She could do this. She had to. For Finn.

Robin had been doing this, for years. Her childhood was radios, and metal, and tinkering to make beautiful things from scrap. The little Robin wouldn't think twice about tearing apart that radio and fixing it, even if she had to swipe some parts, to do it. Because that was what Robin did — she fixed things and saved people. She was an engineer; she was the freakin' hood!

   It wasn't under ideal circumstances, but what was? Nothing they had on the ground was ideal. Nothing had ever been ideal. Robin grew up as a poor kid, so she was used to making do. Raven never had it any better, either. This was what they were made for. Robin knew it.

   Raven knew it, too.

   So did Jace, and he left them to it, only sitting close by to assure they remained unbothered. He left when Clarke told him to get all the other kids inside for the storm.

   It got full.

   Really full. So full, that Robin was almost trampled.

   She had shoved the kid back and told him to mind where they'd been walking in a less pleasant way. Her place on the floor, leaning against the wall, wasn't great when the dropship was at maximum capacity. It took another three close-calls for Robin to get irritated.

    "Back the hell up!" She hissed.

    "Robin, focus!" Raven told her sternly, and it reminded Robin of Monty. She peered around with furrowed brows, but she failed to spot the boy.

    "Where's Monty?"

    "What?"

    "Monty," she said.

    "I dunno," Raven shook her head, shrugging. "Bellamy swiped him when you guys came back. Took Jasper, too."

    "He did?" Strange. "Why?"

    "Ya think I know? Probably to chain Octavia down so she can't run away again, I dunno! Now, get back to work. You call that shit a pigtail splice? I know you can do it better than that, thumbelina. I need precision!"

   Robin rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. Raven was bossy, and it got on her nerves, but she was usually always right. Plus, she kinda forgave her. Finn was dying, so she couldn't expect Raven to be the embodiment of light and positivity. She was under pressure, trying to save her boyfriend's life. Rough shit.

When she spotted Octavia's head bob through the dropship and to the upper level, she knew Raven's theory was definitely untrue. It peaked her curiosity and she had to remind herself not to think of whatever the hell Bellamy Blake was up to, because there was more important things at stake. Like Finn's life, for example. With that in mind, Robin got back to work. It wasn't long until they finished all they could do for the radio. They strapped it up and hooked in the headset Raven had brought in the pod, and the mechanic spent an ungodly amount of time patching into the ark's private network RF. She didn't ask how Raven knew it — it was Raven, after all. She sat and waited patiently, instead. It was a lengthy process, and she had soon learned it was equally as repetitive. And disappointing. Well, it was when it didn't work, at least.

"This is Raven Reyes, calling ark station."

Robin watched, intently.

"Come in, ark station. This is Raven Reyes," she tried again, a strain against her throat. "Calling ark station. Please, come in. Can anybody hear me?"

"Are you sure you have the right frequency?" Monroe asked. It received her two nasty looks for her stupidity, and she backed off.

"Yeah— we're sure." Raven spoke through gritted teeth. She was losing her patience, and Finn was getting progressively worse, and the fate of the world felt heavy on her shoulders. "Try again," with a breath, she instructed Robin to shift their antenna. "Try it a little higher? Higher!"

"It is higher!"

"Any higher, I think it'll snap..." Jace eyed it warily, not liking it looking so fragile in Robin's fingers. He felt two sets of eyes on his side profile and sighed, scratching his neck and moving away from their work space. "Shut up? Got it."

"Raven." Clarke placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. For a moment, Raven glared at the blonde. It had Robin raising her brows, and she tried to figure out what the issue was. It looked as though they got along well enough before they had set out to look for Octavia. She wondered what had happened during that time, or whether she had simply failed to notice the tensions, but it quickly occurred to her that the reason was right under their noses. Their eyes drifted, and landed upon the boy on their left: Finn. She should have known, really. Clarke sighed, "You can do this."

Tension was tenfold.

As the blonde wandered back to Finn to replace the material on his wounds, Robin pursed her lips. Clarke was right. She shifted in her seat; "You got this, little bird." She lifted the antenna, "Higher."

Raven smiled.

"Calling ark station— ark station. Please, come in." She begged in desperation, and Robin tilted the antenna even higher. "I am on the ground with the hundred, please come in. Are you there? Does anyone copy? Please, come in. This is Raven Reyes, the ground is survivable. We are on the ground. Calling ark station," Raven gave it one last go, "The hundred are alive. Is anyone—"

"This is a restricted station. Who is this?"

Robin's heart fell, then soared.

Holy shit.

"Please identify yourself."

"This is Raven Reyes. I— I'm from mecha station," Raven let a sigh of relief pass her lips, grinning at Jace as he jumped and sent his fist into the air. "I'm transmitting from the ground; they're alive down here, the hundred are alive." She breathed, "Please— you need to get Abby Griffin. Doctor Abby Griffin. Griffin. We need her, now."

Then, another voice.

"Hang on Raven, we're trying to boost your signal. Get her off the ark-wide channel. We want them aired in this room only. Copy?"

Shakily, Robin hauled herself up from the floor and stumbled to the radio. She didn't care about her bum leg, or the blood rushing to her head from her sudden movement, or the fact that she was so tired she could collapse.

She didn't care. Not about any of it, not in the slightest. She didn't care because she knew that voice. Robin knew that voice, as did she know the man it belonged to.

"Sinclair?"

Her voice was a whisper, so light that she worried he hadn't been able to hear it. There was no response, for a moment. Only static radio silence, and Robin felt her knees tremble. She waited, breath stuck in her throat, multiple sets of eyes on focused on her. No one said anything, and the level of anxiety in the room was palpable. It felt like years until there was a shift in static, and they were patched through to an alternate channel. Again, there was silence. Until, it was gone, and the voice was back. It was gentle, disbelieving, and his voice filled her with warmth. Pure warmth. Robin couldn't believe it. It was him. It was him.

"Robin?"

"It's me," she nodded, although he couldn't see her. Robin felt her eyes sting, "It— it's me, Sinclair. It's me, I'm here— I'm alive."

"Me, too." Raven grinned. "Kickass reunion."

"Mind your mouth, Raven Reyes."

Robin laughed tearily, and she felt a hand slip into hers. In that moment, she didn't seem to mind that it was Clarke's. Robin gave her hand a squeeze.

"We're here, we're alive." She spoke again, feeling the weight of it suddenly fall on her shoulders. Robin no longer felt happy; there was something she had to know. Perhaps it was selfish, and took all time away from helping Finn, but there was no sign of Abby yet, so Robin took the chance. She sucked in a breath, "My father. He... is he—?"

"Your father's alive, Lox."

She breathed, "Thanks, Sinclair."

"Any time, kid."

Clarke gripped her hand a little tighter, and didn't let it go when Jace slung his arm around Robin's shoulders and rubbed her arm up and down. In fact, Clarke held on for dear life when a new voice came through the speakers. She went stiff, and rigid.

"Raven? Are you there?"

"Mom?" Swallowing the lump in her throat, Clarke forced her eyes closed. She opened them, "Mom, it's me." Her mother made a noise that resembled a breathy sob, and Robin noticed the shifts in Clarke's demeanour. Her back straightened and her face stony, and she squeezed Robin's hand so tightly that she nearly broke all of her fingers. "Mom, I need your help." Clarke said, "One of our people— he was stabbed by a grounder."

"Clarke, this is the chancellor. Are you all saying there are survivors on the ground?"

"Yes, the earth is survivable." Clarke approved in a professional tone, although her face crumpled at the sound of his voice. "We're not alone; there are others."

There was a murmur on the line, and the council sounded as if they didn't believe them, but their judgment changed when one of them made the point that they hadn't believed the hundred were a successful mission. The words made Robin pull a face, and Jace soon mirrored it. Successful mission? That was what they were? Geez— the council got even more dick-ish while the delinquents had been gone.

Not surprising.

"Mom, he's dying." Clarke said, "The knife is still in his chest."

"Okay— can you patch me through to medical?"

"Of course."

"Clarke. Is my son with you?"

Jaha's words caused them all to stop. They eyed one another, an ineffable melancholy feeling radiating through the dropship. While confused, Raven didn't ask questions. Clarke cleared her throat, an uncommon tremor in her voice; "I'm sorry... He's— Wells is dead."

All of it felt uncomfortable, and wrong. The whole situation felt wrong — it was wrong. They were kids. Children who got seen as expendable in the eyes of the council, and thus sent down as some sort of experiment; to see if they would live, or die. It was cruel, so cruel, and it was twisted. They were children who had survived by the skin of their teeth, and now they were reporting to the assholes who had sent them down there in the first place. The hundred lost people. Their people had died, and all of it was for what? For their captors to follow them, and take control? Clarke was reporting the death of the chancellors son, because he had sent him there. Wells was a kid. Clarke was a kid — she shouldn't have to do that. Clarke was just a child.

"Clarke?"

"I'm here, mom."

"I'm going to talk you through it, step by step."

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