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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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027.
DUMB PLACE TO DIE.
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    "Have you seen Bellamy?"

    "Why would I wanna see my asshole brother?" Octavia drawled, clearly still annoyed with him. "But, yeah— I saw him, earlier on."

    "Where is he?" Robin near demanded.

   Octavia to sent her a strange look. Last time she checked, Robin had never optionally looked for Bellamy. They weren't exactly friends out of everyone in camp. It made Octavia wonder what ever could have made a change so drastic, but she supposed it was none of her business. Sure, she didn't get why anyone would want to see Bellamy after he tortured the grounder, but it wasn't down to her. Plus, they all knew Robin wasn't to be bossed around or told what she should do. She never listened to Clarke or Bellamy, when they tried.

   She was too proud.

   So, Octavia just shrugged her shoulders and settled back down in her seat; she was the only one sat in the dropship, other than Miller — who, like a total dick, wasn't letting her see the grounder, either. Bellamy had told him not to, if he wanted to keep his sound ability to walk and talk.

    "He went off to meet Clarke," she said. "Said there was an old, underground bunker, or something. Jaha wanted them to go check it out. Think they were leaving soon,"

    "How soon?"

    "Huh?"

    "How soon is soon, Octavia?"

    "I dunno— like, ten minutes?" Octavia was confused. What was so important? Robin was acting weird, and shifty, and she looked a bit frazzled.

    "How long ago, was that?" Robin asked, already turning on her heel and making a beeline for the exit of the dropship. It made her feel nauseous to look at Octavia while knowing what could happen to her brother. She felt far too guilty, despite her innocence. "Five?"

    "Ten, maybe? Hey—" she grabbed her jacket. "You okay?"

    "M'fine."

    "Why'd you wanna see him, so bad?"

   Robin said nothing, and watched as Octavia's mouth quirked at the corners. She squinted at the younger girl, past the scabs on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and tried to read past Octavia's growing smirk. Octavia Blake was a strange one. Robin wasn't the, how did she say it?, most observant when it came to Octavia— there were people who knew her better; they weren't good friends, and it was hard to keep up with her constant change of personalities, but Robin knew her well enough to recognise that glint of mischief, an evident light, as it danced in her eyes. She had seen plenty of it, on the ground. It seemed that Octavia was always up to something. As far as Robin could tell, this was no different. She wrinkled her face and scrunched her nose, confused.

    "Are you screwing my—?"

    "I'd rather stick pins in my eyes," Robin deadpanned.

    "You're totally screwing my brother," Octavia looked happy for the first time in days.

"I'm not screwing your bitch of a brother," she sighed out. Her words made Octavia's face fall into comical disappointment. "Just gotta tell him something," Robin shrugged it off.

"Right..."

"Later," Robin quickly rushed to the dropship door, hoping he would still be around. But, as she pulled back the tarp and went to leave, Robin stopped and turned; "Oh— and, Octavia?" As Robin spoke, Octavia nodded to show she was paying attention. "Go, tell Miller to talk to Mbege's parents. Some kid said he's next. It'll give you some time to do whatever you're dying to do,"

Octavia paled, "Like, what?"

"Whatever."

Not having time to mess around, her eyes flickered to the hatch, then to Octavia, then she span on her heel. Robin looked around.

She tried to spot anything odd, anyone who looked strange. But, in a camp of criminals, most of them had grown good at covering up anything that could increase suspicion. That made Robin's eyes even beadier, and she hoped someone would let their act slip — an amateur mistake and give themselves away. Nothing. Robin grunted, and instead tried to find Bellamy and Clarke. If they hadn't left, she should be able to find them. If they had, then they wouldn't be too far for her to try and follow.

Luckily for Robin, a streak of blonde bobbed past her.

"Blondie!" She called, rushing down the ramp and dragging her leg behind her. It was still hard to move quickly. The girl turned to look at her, brows at her hairline, waiting for Robin to catch up. At her side was a pack. Robin nodded to it, "Where ya headed?"

"Depot," she said.

"Depot?" Robin acted clueless.

"Records that show a supply depot not too far from here. Jaha wanted me to go check it out, see if anything is still around." She explained. Robin nodded, feigning interest, and Clarke continued to talk. "They might give us a chance to live through the winter. If we're lucky,"

"Count me in," Robin nodded, once. When Clarke looked like she was ready to object, glancing at her thigh, Robin gave a harsh look. "My leg is fine— alright? I can do it."

"I'm not sure..."

"You can't go alone!"

"I'm not going alone," bingo! "I'm taking Bellamy."

   Robin couldn't help herself, "As good as."

   Clarke squinted, true.

"Look, I'll go with Bellamy, find this depot, and bring whatever shit we find back to camp." Robin pitched.

Clarke didn't look convinced. She seemed to mull over it, taking longer than Robin felt comfortable with. As the blonde thought all of it through, Robin glanced around and tried to spot Bellamy. He was still nowhere to be seen, and it made her nervous. Being alone, as much as he probably deserved it for what he did, wasn't safe. All she could think about was his life.

"C'mon, princess!" Tone forced, Robin tried to rush her. "Look, if you stay, you can check on Finn's wound as much as you'd like."

She pursed her lips.

"Will you talk to him?"

"Playing dirty," Robin observed. Her jaw clenched when Clarke gave her a smug look. Was she really about to do this? For Bellamy? She narrowed her eyes, "If you're lucky." To that, Clarke muttered an I'll take it.

"Why'd you wanna leave so bad, anyway?"

"I haven't left camp in days," Robin lied through her teeth. "I'll go crazy."

"Alright..." not totally convinced but willing to accept it, Clarke took the pack from her shoulder and handed it over. Robin took it with a fake smile but Clarke didn't see through it. "You'll probably need this. If your leg hurts, or your vision goes, make sure you stop and rest. If it doesn't get better—"

"Come straight back," she mocked. "Yeah— got it." Robin put the pack on her shoulder and took a step backwards. "Don't miss me too much, blondie."

    "I'll try," Clarke rolled her eyes.

   Robin promptly pushed her back, then waved her off. Wagging  her fingers and waited until the girl was gone, letting her hand fall back to her side and heaving a sigh. Phase one was complete. Now, all Robin had to do was find Bellamy Blake — once she found him and got him the hell out of camp, she could protect him from what someone in the camp was planning on doing to him. She wasn't sure who it was, or how it was going go happen, or when, but Robin decided safer was better; she didn't care much for Bellamy, but she didn't want him—

    "On your feet, so soon?"

   Bellamy Blake.

    "They say I can't be tamed," Robin quipped, slowly turning on her booted heel. He didn't look so amused.

    "You should be resting," he told her.

   Robin wondered why Bellamy and Clarke didn't get along. They were like the same person, sometimes. Two tails on the same coin, or whatever the saying was. Robin wasn't very good at sayings. But she was good at lying, and this was going to take Robin's best work.

    "I guess you're carrying me, then." Robin shrugged.

    "What?"

   She shook the pack on her shoulder and watched Bellamy's eyes roll, although she noticed the way his lips curved into a smirk as he understood what she was implying with her words.

    "Wouldn't be the first time," Bellamy said, suddenly solemn as it reminded him of her near-death experience. It brought a scoff out of Robin, and he looked at her questionably. As though he hadn't even realised what he had done. Like he was none the wiser. Robin tilted her head to the left.

    "You always gotta be a fun-sponge?"

    "Whatever, angel face."

    "So, when are we leaving?" Robin asked.

    "Soon," Bellamy relented, giving her a once over to make sure she wouldn't drop dead if he brought her along. He jutted his jaw over to the rations pile, unzipping his bag as he walked. Robin was quick to follow.

   It was the first time they had spoken since she had been stabbed, and she wasn't really sure what to say. They were awkward (which was the last thing others usually used to describe Robin Loxely and Bellamy Blake) and short. Robin supposed they'd never had many conversations that were better, and she had too much on her mind, so chat wasn't going to be commendable. She was too busy looking around at all of the delinquents, eyeing them wearily, and shuffling about on her feet while he grabbed his rations for the trip. Bellamy seemed to notice her twitchiness. He watched her gnaw on her lips and adjust her ponytail, then again, then take it out and retie it, all the while squinting at campers as they passed them by.

    "You good, birdy?"

    "Peachy," she replied stiffly.

    "Sure," Bellamy didn't bother asking. Perhaps it was the nerves of leaving camp. Jasper had been jittery when he ventured out the walls after a close call with the grounders. "Why are you coming?"

    "Charming." Robin heard him snicker. "Blondie decided Raven babysitting Finn wasn't sad enough." Smooth lie.

   Bellamy quirked a brow.

    "And yet, she's letting you go, instead?"

    "I asked nicely."

   He hummed disbelievingly, but let her off with it. It made little difference to Bellamy. If she wanted to go, she could go. While he wasn't entirely sure why she would want to go with him, it sounded like a her problem. If she even had a problem, that is. Regardless of his curiosity, Bellamy continued to shovel rations into his pack. He could feel Robin's eyes boring into the side of his head when she'd noticed.

    "It's only a day trip, right?" Robin queried, to which he nodded. She frowned, "How long's a day, to you?"

    "A lot can happen in a day."

   Hearing that made her stiffen, looking at him uncertainly. Did he already know? Robin couldn't tell. Bellamy was always so stoic, stern and mature, a face of many secrets. While he was easy to read, his ability to hide his thoughts had gotten better. She wished he was as much of a open book as before.

   Earth had made him twice as guarded.

"Let's move out," Bellamy announced.

Robin shook off her thoughts and smiled tightly. She turned on her heel and made for the gate, feeling his hand hover at the small of her back instinctively.

As they left, she allowed her eyes to sweep across camp. Just one more time. She pursed her lips and grabbed the gate, pulling it to.

"Yeah..." she muttered. "A lot can happen in a day."

————

    "Sit down."

    "Shut up, Blake."

    "I said sit down," Bellamy repeated. Sometimes, he wondered if instructions went through Robin's ear and out the other. She didn't listen to him and Clarke, or anyone else for that matter. He found it incredibly grating. "Don't make me force you, sweetheart."

    "You sure know how to talk to girls," Robin continued to walk, a shrug of her shoulders and mockery in her tone. "I'll give ya that."

   Bellamy rolled his eyes, he tried.

   Sorry, Clarke.

   They had been walking for a couple of hours. He could tell that her leg was starting to wear her down, judging by the way her little limp had gotten worse. She was practically dragging the leg along, and he could tell she was in pain by the way he jaw flexed every so often. But, Bellamy was more concerned with how antsy she was. It was like she twitched in anticipation of something, looking around and expecting to find something terrible. She flinched every time a twig snapped beneath him, and her hands shook as she twisted the scrap piece of metal between her fingers. Bellamy didn't know that much about Robin, but he knew she was never this tetchy. Cool as a cucumber; that was Robin. Not this bundle of anxiety. Although, as unlike her as it was, he knew near-death could change people; that wouldn't surprise him, so much.

   But this... was different.

   Then again, he wasn't a barrel of laughs either.

   He was moodier, than usual. Perhaps because his sister claimed to hate his guts, or because days were dwindling until the ark were on their way to join them.

   Either way, Bellamy was being bitchy. Robin could feel the grump radiating from him. She had a feeling that was more likely to kill all the delinquents than radiation, at this point. Or, maybe even more than the grounders. Nothing was comparable to Bellamy in a poor mood. She had learned that during their first day on the ground; it didn't stop her from testing his patience, however. She enjoyed that far too much to ever quit it. It was too fun.

    "Just take a break— alright?"

    "I'll take a break at the depot," she said.

"Hey— look," Bellamy reached out and grabbed her elbow, his touch careful as he pulled her around. "Your leg isn't gonna get us there any quicker, not if you don't rest it. We've been walking hours. You haven't left camp in days."

"I'm not useless," Robin narrowed her eyes defensively, "I know how to walk."

"I'm not saying you are," he shook his head. Bellamy ignored it as she tugged her arm out of his grip, the feeling of her sleeve hot on his fingers. He could see a glumness in her eyes that hadn't seen in them before, and it made his lips purse. Bellamy felt guilty. "You aren't useless, birdy."

Robin didn't feel like having a heart to heart with Bellamy. Out of anyone, he was likely the last person she would turn to. He was cocky and stubborn, and they didn't have the best track record. If the fact he almost killed her father was anything to go by, the idea of them being friends stood little chance of happening. Robin and Bellamy weren't made to be friends. At least, she didn't think so. It was hard tell. They both hid behind too much baggage. The kinds that were difficult to strip back.

Wordlessly, Robin shrugged and carried on walking. She peered around and scanned the trees, trying to spot anyone who could be hidden out there. Robin didn't really feel like running into anyone.

    "What's that?"

   Robin looked at the metal in her hands.

   It was only scraps; things she has been screwing with while stuck on bed rest. Robin only brought it with her to occupy her on their walk. Bellamy's company was rarely very good. Plus, she thought it would never be finished if she didn't. No time like searching for old underground depots and evading murder, right? Robin thought so, evidently. She hadn't thought much about it. It was something that gave her something to focus on. Something to channel her anxiety into, something to occupy her shaky hands. Because work made all that troubled her better. It made her feel better. Because, while there were high chances of Bellamy Blake being murdered on her watch, she was terrified — of leaving camp, of grounders, of being under attack and unable to do anything. Robin wouldn't admit it, however.

    "Nothing," she shoved it into her back pocket. "Are we close? I kinda wanna get there before the ark comes, and we— oof!"

    "Holy—!"

    "Ow!"

    "Are you—?"

    "Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin—!"

    "Hey— hey," Bellamy quickly jumped over the obstacle and put his hands under her armpits, smoothly sweeping her from the floor and holding her steady on two feet.

   She groaned. Her leg burned and her knees were scraped, and it had been a jarring landing that jolted her arms and blossomed the newest essence of pain to add to a long list for her poor shoulder; it would never get a break.

   Bellamy absently gave her a once over, making sure there was no blood and no serious damage. Eyes immediately ventured down to her thigh, he sighed when she successfully put pressure on it and, a subtle attempt to hide it, only wobbled a little bit. They then drank in every other piece of her, because you could never be more sorry than safe, and caught sight of the wounds on her head. He knew it wasn't from him — the wound he inflicted had been at the back, at the middle, inches above the base of her neck. Bellamy's lips made a thin line when he pursed them. He regretted it, of course he did, but not in the way he should've. He didn't regret it for Octavia. But he did feel bad.

   That made him no saint.

    "You alright there, hop along?" He asked.

    "Peachy."

   How many times must that conversation play over? She wasn't at all certain, but it seemed deeply cyclical. Like it was routed within.

Robin stepped put of his hold abruptly and glared down at the dirt, her eyes searching; "What the hell tripped me? 'Cause if that thing is alive, I swear to god—!"

"Easy, solider." Bellamy rolled his eyes, kicking at the ground as the tip of his boot searched. His toe bumped against something, it made a metallic thunk! at the contact, and he knelt down for closer inspection. Easily, Bellamy brushed away the dying foliage and his fingertips dancing along a cool, rusted surface. He looked up at the girl with a wolfish grin, "Get ready for that rest, yeah?"

"What? Why?"

"'Cause you just found our supply depot."

Sure enough, when she looked down, she saw it — the handle, a rusted and old bar of metal, and Robin wondered how she hadn't seen it before. Though, she supposed it didn't matter. Her brain seemed it process his words late, and she scowled.

"I'm not resting, down there!"

"Watch your foot," Bellamy ignored her and grabbed his axe in which always sat it his belt loop, and drew back an arm. After he'd lightly tapped her ankle, he brung down that arm and slammed on the metal once, twice. He brushed the few shards aside with carless vigour, "Help me."

Robin crouched and gripped the handle, palms over his, and she gave a sharp tug upwards when he counted to three. She perfected the art to ignoring her shoulder that time, and followed Bellamy as he placed it to the side. They wiped off their hands on his jacket, an action he glared at her for but he ultimately didn't care. He had bigger things on his mind now, like what was left in this bunker. And she'd thought much the same — wondering what they would find, although for an alternate reason. Maybe they could help camp, or him. Bellamy let her go first. Ladies first he had said. like an asshole. It wasn't shocking; not even slightly, if she were honest.

"Hell of a place to die," Bellamy muttered as he followed her in their descent into the bunker. "Kinda wish it was alive."

"Shut up."

    "No, really— I'd like to have seen that fight."

She paid it no mind — well, none other than a nasty glare and a foul scowl. Rather she let Bellamy pass her on the step and take his usual lead.

Her ears listened, no sound.

"Really think it's not been touched, since the war?"

"A girl can dream," she spoke in an oddly Clarke-like tone. His brows lifted at the comment, he hadn't pegged Robin as the hopeful type. In fact, she wasn't. That was why he had hardly batted an eye as she said; "Shame I never made wishes on my birthday candles, and wasted my culling wish on some shampoo, huh?"

Either she didn't notice Bellamy's blank stare through the dark, or she did and simply didn't care (likely the latter). Regardless, she jumped from the last step and landed beside him.

Deciding Clarke's pack may actually be useful — it would be; the princess packed it, after all — Robin rolled her good shoulder and let it swing to her front. She rifled through it and pulled two hand-sized torches, and a pack of rations. The latter was shoved into her pocket for later, while the former was handed over to Bellamy, one tucked into the curve between her chin and her chest, using it for a third hand as she fastened up the pack. As she shouldered it again, Robin switched on her torch and held it up — not quickly enough.

A small shriek passed her lips when she walked into a cobweb. It sent goosebumps crawling along her skin.

Bellamy snickered.

He used a hand to bat the cobwebs off her jacket and out of her face, smirking at the annoyed looks she threw at him. Both cheeks, red with duress, tickled even with lack of silk wiring. Robin felt her body shudder.

She wasn't scared of spiders — no, but she was paranoid.

Ignoring the skeleton that knocked against her boots, Robin put a grimace on her face and proceeded down the stairs after Bellamy Blake. She didn't mind following. It became clear to her that creepy, dark, damp bunkers from the nuclear war didn't bother him. Perhaps he laughed in the face of fear. Somehow, Robin doubted it. Maybe Bellamy was stupid, but not fearless.

   Robin didn't think anyone was fearless. Certainly not Bellamy. His decision to jack the radio was proof enough; Bellamy was terrified for the moment the ark came down. It was why he trashed Raven's radio, and why he wouldn't talk to fallen campers' parents. He was scared.

    "Gross..." she uttered.

    "Got that right," Bellamy huffed.

It was dark and dingy, but Robin didn't know what she expected to see. Truthfully, Robin had hardly thought about the depot. She had more pressing things on her mind than whether they could be living in a prenuclear supply depot for the rest of their lives, and it brought her eyes towards Bellamy. She should tell him. She knew it, he had to know; but, then what? Would she keep him in the depot? Would Robin force the king into inevitable hiding?

   Did she tell him and return, go back to camp and accuse the kid recruited to murder him? She didn't even know who the kid was! It wasn't that easy — Robin hadn't even known who recruited her, he was a guard she had only run into, during her arrest. Who was he?

How did he know Bellamy?

   Would he even believe her?

Speaking of, the man pulled open a storage bin and wrinkled his nose at the contents. "Anything left down here is ruined, dammit."

"Nothing here..." Robin muttered. She opened a bin and stood on her toes, peering over the edge. "Hey—" Bellamy turned as she spoke, "Blankets."

"Excited about some blankets?"

"No," she rolled her eyes at his attitude. "But I'm tryna pretend so a hundred kids don't freeze, over winter."

   He didn't say anything. Whether that was because Bellamy had nothing to say, or because he was too frustrated with the emptiness of the bunker to find it within himself to argue, she wasn't sure. He turned on his heel nonetheless, and made for the canisters over on the other side of the hall. Robin just left him to it.

   Robin routed around in more bins. She came up with practically nothing. Only a few useful items that she stuffed into her pack; her mind was still focused on why she had come. Every noise made the girl jump, and it was eating away at her, slowly. Robin bit down on her lower lip and kept tightening her ponytail, yanking at the hairs with one hand. It pulled it to the left, wonky on her head. She had zoned out almost completely until she heard Bellamy's rambles far at the back of her mind. His grumbling got louder, and louder, and Robin turned to see him slamming down lids on bins. His hair was a curly mess, hands running through his fringe in stress, and Robin squinted at his aggression.

    "How about a damn canteen? Or, a med kit? Or, a decent frickin' tent?" He drawled out, yanking open the tops to canisters. Bellamy stuck his hands into the liquid and scoffed at the slickness. "Useless bunker, this was!"

    "Shut up—"

   A guttural yell clawed out of his throat.

   Her eyes widened when he pulled his leg back and slammed his boot into the canister, sending it to the floor with a crash!

   For a moment, they were quiet. He breathed heavily, a rise and a fall in his chest that caused Robin to wonder if he would faint. His eyebrows furrowed, momentarily.

   She squinted.

    "Nice one, hot shot."

   He ignored her.

   Bellamy walked over to the contents of the canister and fell to a crouch, shining his torch over the river of oil. It made his boots all slippy, but he managed to keep on his feet as he inspected it. Metal canisters didn't usually make that much noise — at least, he didn't think they did. And Bellamy's suspicions were correct when he put his hands out and grabbed a familiar barrel. His fingers tapped on a trigger and the tension on his face dispersed, instead adorned by a boyish grin that made Robin falter in her step.

   It looked good on him.

 
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