twenty one . . . ashes of our ghosts
( february 4, 2150 — arkadia )

          SHE SWUNG HER fist back, grinning satisfactorily at the sound of her knuckles connecting with Miller's palm. She repeated the action with her left fist, though threw it in an upwards motion, readying it to make contact with his jaw, giving her an advantage — of course, when she made the contact successfully, she was the one to flinch away.

"Oh, god, Miller! I'm sorry!" She rushed, smacking both of her hands over her agape mouth. She arched her back slightly, wide eyes of horror examining the area she had brutally struck. "I thought you were going to dodge it."

Miller's hand cupped his jaw, fingers rubbing the sensitive area tenderly. "When did your uppercut get so brutal?" The boy scolded, sending Cullen a heated glare.

"I don't know." She reasoned quickly. "I swear, last week I couldn't even work my left hand into a fist! I'm so sorry — really, I am. You know I never intend to actually hurt you."

"This says otherwise." Miller removed his hand to showcase the red area to Cullen. The skin her knuckles had made contact with was burning a deep shade of ruby, only making the Vander female feel more guilty. "Jesus, Cullen. Have you been training extra on the side?"

Her cheeks tinted pink in a bashful manner. "You know I train with Octavia and Lincoln a few times a week."

"So, you're fighting dirty now?" Miller mocked, half serious, half sarcastic. Cullen knew this, and was well aware that sparring included hitting the other person, but still felt an immense amount of shame towards her actions. It seemed that Miller was as aware of Cullen's remorse as she was, as he dropped the hand that cupped his jaw, and offered her a recovering smile. "I'm fine, Cullen — don't sweat it."

"Are you sure?" She quizzed, peaking another glance at the area she had hit.

Miller lightly shoved her shoulders, creating a distance far enough so that Cullen could no longer see underneath his jaw. "I'm sure. I asked you to spar, remember? I'm a big boy, I can take a few hits."

Cullen gestured to his facial area. "Clearly."

He rolled his eyes, mouth curving into a lopsided grin as he readied his fists in front of his face. "Round two, come on."

"I'm pretty sure that was round three." She commented.

"Fine, round three point five on a case of wrongful movements I'm not trained to perform." Miller extended, and flashed his fists to Cullen in a gesture for her to raise her own.

After expressively huffing, Cullen raised her fists, and the two commenced with their sparring. It was just the two of them in the room that was appointed for Guard training, so they were taking advantage of the space. Both of them were strong fighters, as both of them had been raised by Dad's who worked for a Guard system, and it was identifiable in the way their sparring seemed to be equally sided. Neither of them had the upper hand until one of them grew weak, and even then the roles were reversed very quickly.

Cullen had just sent a punch to the right side of Miller's jaw, her foot coming up to slam against his stomach when Miller swiped his left leg out from beneath him, his foot hooking around Cullen's ankle, sending her slamming to the floor. She fell on her back, the wind sufficiently being thrown from her lungs as she groaned, seeming to not hear the door to the room being opened and shut.

"That looked painful." Cullen released another groan, her eyes squeezing shut before her head rotated against the mat covered floor, emerald irises settling on Bellamy.

"I've had worse." She said, and gratefully accepted Miller's hand to stand up. Once she was upright, she readjusted her tank top, before planting her hands on her hips. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you, actually." Bellamy revealed, before his gaze flickered across to Miller. "And to tell you your Dad's looking for you."

Miller nodded to the Blake man, before turning to Cullen. The knowing look in his eyes almost made Cullen smile; each of her friends had the same look. It was the look that asked Cullen if it was all right for them to leave her alone with Bellamy — not that he was at all harmful towards her, they had just heard enough of their situation to know it was right to ask.

"Go. I'll catch up with you later for our shift." Cullen assured, ushering Miller out the room.

The boy went about collecting his things as Cullen fiddled with a strand of her hair, eyes dancing around the room while they awaited Miller's departure; whatever Bellamy wanted to say, he wanted to say to only Cullen, which was slightly alarming. She almost didn't want Miller to leave, because as soon as the door shut behind him, it was just Cullen and Bellamy in a room that seemed to be getting smaller.

"So," Cullen clasped her hands together in front of her, and rocked back on her heels slightly, "you wanted to see me?"

Bellamy's gaze returned to her, nonchalantly trailing up her body as he did so. The action brought a scorching heat to Cullen's cheeks, as she realized she hadn't been in this little of clothing around Bellamy ever — fair to say she was in a tank top and a pair of jeans, but the gleam of subtle gluttony was noticeable to Cullen, who stood fifteen feet from the man. What made the look even more scolding was the resistance Bellamy obtained — he thought of Gina almost immediately after recollecting with himself what he had done.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh, no can do." Cullen shook her head, and gestured around them. "This isn't a conference room. We don't have conversations here."

"Can we go to a conference room then?" He asked.

"No can do again, sorry. Miller and I had this space booked for the next half hour, so I gotta stay here and train until then." She excused, before a small grin curled against her lips. It was her turn to rack her eyes up Bellamy's frame, noticing he was dressed in his usual clothing — a fitted gray t-shirt and cargo pants, perfect for training. "If we spar I'll let you talk."

He blinked at her once, then twice, before saying, "You want to spar."

"Sure, why not?" She shrugged, and moved over to the bench where her knuckle wrap was sitting. Cullen picked off her old one and began applying a new layer, glancing back across the room to Bellamy, who was watching her closely. "You want to talk, and I need to train. It's a win-win situation, Blake. Take it or leave it."

"We've never sparred before." Bellamy stated, though looking for an excuse not to do so — in contempt of this, he walked his way over to Cullen, beckoning to use the knuckle wrap after her. "Not even in training when David told us to."

Cullen shrugged again, ripping the wrap before dropping it into Bellamy's palm. "Today's a new day."

Bellamy hummed, and went about wrapping his knuckles while Cullen wandered back to the middle of the room, where she began straightening out the mats and laying more for a wider area.

She was standing back up, cracking her back in the process when her eyes attached to Bellamy's now bare chest. He stood in nothing but his cargo pants and boots, white wrap protecting his knuckles — his chest was completely stripped of clothing, only making it more tempting for Cullen to ogle over. And she did, half shamefully, half blaming Bellamy for removing his shirt in the first place.

He was beautiful; this, she had already admitted. Bellamy was a very, very attractive man, and with the ability to now stare at his body without feeling like she was trespassing, Cullen did so. It wasn't like the first time she had seen him almost completely naked — now, the rising sun was beaming in through the windows, casting an angel-like glow on Bellamy's bronzed skin. He was toned, and luscious, glistening like glaze underneath the sunlight that only highlighted his drool worthy features further. His abs and pecs were muscular, though not too hardened; his biceps, too. Bellamy's entire body was beyond any words that describe something gorgeous, and they both seemed aware of that when his mouth curved into a smirk, and her cheeks tinted a darker shade of scarlet.

"Is there a reason you've removed your shirt?" Cullen asked gruffly, forcing her eyes to meet Bellamy's.

He was still smirking gleefully when he said, "I've got somewhere to be after this. Sweat shows up on gray clothing, and I don't feel like going back to my room to change."

She swallowed thickly, and very visibly, before nodding to herself. Cullen didn't want to think about Bellamy being shirtless as a distraction, but it most definitely was — Bellamy himself was a distraction, as loathsome as it was for her to admit.

"Ok. Sure, well..." Cullen stepped on to the mat, and craned her neck for Bellamy to join her. "Shall we?"

"Yeah." Bellamy nodded, and moved to stand in front of Cullen. "Tie your hair up."

"What?"

"Your hair." Bellamy pointed to the brown locks flowing messily past her shoulders. "Tie it up. I don't want you to be at a disadvantage."

Cullen twisted her face as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. "I won't be at a disadvantage — with, or without, my hair tied up."

Bellamy didn't answer, only watched as Cullen's neck stretched as she perfected her ponytail. As weird as it sounded, Cullen had an appealing neck; it was long, smooth, and without any fault. He found himself staring at it, thinking if the skin was silkier than the rest of her body — impossible, he thought, and something you shouldn't be thinking about. But, he couldn't help it, because Cullen was so sublimely beautiful, more so when she was doing something so simplistic like tying her hair up.

"You ready?" Cullen asked, large, budding eyes blinking up to Bellamy.

He raised his fists, and nodded his head. "Ready."

Similar to how her and Miller sparred, Cullen and Bellamy's actions were equally sided. Neither of them had the upper hand, with Cullen quickly learning Bellamy had previous Guard training when the Ark was in space. She remembered hearing about it from somebody — Monty, possibly — and Cullen hadn't believed it, because Bellamy didn't depict himself as the protection type, but he was. He held and presented himself with such honor, Cullen wasn't sure she could match it.

As they continued, both of them gave the other tips. Bellamy told Cullen to put more weight into her punches, while Cullen advised him to use his legs more. They landed an equal amount of blows to each other, also; Cullen was able to jab Bellamy in his shoulder, allowing her knee to make contact with his stomach, while Bellamy uppercut her with his elbow, before twisting her arm behind her back.

"More weight, remember." He reminded, throaty voice fanning against Cullen's exposed neck. A tingling sensation followed after Cullen's realization of how her bare shoulders were pressed freshly against Bellamy's sudoric chest.

"Yeah," Cullen threw her elbow back, jabbing Bellamy in the ribs hard enough for his grip on her twisted arm to slacken. She ducked underneath their connected arms, before kicking her foot against his thigh, sending him backwards, "I remember."

Bellamy breathed out heavily, racking a hand through his chestnut curls. "Good. See what a little bit of weight can do?"

"It can win me this round." She grinned, and raised her fists again. "Come on, Blake. Stop pulling your punches."

He beamed widely in return, before swinging his fist in the direction of Cullen's jaw. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are." Cullen replied, throwing a punch before shoving against his chest. "You haven't come close to hurting me."

"Not the point of sparring, Ace." Said Bellamy, delivering a kick to Cullen's hip.

She grunted, at both the contact, and the nickname. She transformed the small spark of ire into physical blows: a punch to his jaw, another shove against his shoulders, and an imbalanced kick to his shin. "Didn't you want to talk about something?"

At his advantage, Bellamy swiped his foot against Cullen's weakened ankle, and with a rough shove of her shoulders, floored her against the mats. He followed down after her, one knee leaning between her thighs, his right hand planted steadily against her shoulder, pinning her down.

"There's a mission to Mount Weather happening today." He announced.

Cullen shrugged off Bellamy's hand, hooking her leg around his waist to flip them over. With his back now against the mats, Cullen straddled his waist, the forearm of her right arm pinning him down, with her left fist raised. She squeezed her thighs against his hips, creating an unknown pressure between them.

"Yeah, so what?" She breathed out.

"I want you to come with us."

She blinked at him to begin with, head tilting slightly as though questioning whether he was serious in his proposal. When no signs of travesty filtered past his features, Cullen's straightened herself on Bellamy's hips — she couldn't have moved quicker or further away from him if she tried.

"You're joking." She stated as she pushed herself from the mats into a standing position.

Bellamy followed. "I think it would be good for you to come with us."

He was being serious — she could see it in the way his irises had mellowed due to her reaction to the proposal, and the noticeable way his tone immediately became softer. Bellamy honestly thought he was doing the world a solid by implying this to Cullen, who made her returning to Mount Weather very clear; it wasn't going to happen. Not three months ago, and certainly not today.

"I'm not going back there." Cullen firmly declared. "I'm not ready."

"I get that, but you avoiding it isn't going to help you move on." Said Bellamy, brows furrowing over his eyes like an incoming storm. "The only way you're gonna get past everything is by going back."

"And how'd you come up with that play-by-play, huh?" She demanded.

"You need to face your demons to be able to beat them."

She frowned, deeply. Going back to Mount Weather had always been an option that Cullen wasn't willing to take — everyone seemed to accept the fact she didn't want to go back except Bellamy, who in his right mind, thought he was doing good by her. And it wasn't as though Cullen didn't appreciate it, because Bellamy amongst everybody else was trying to help her move on from the things that still visibly haunted her.

"I can't. I'm not ready."

"Cullen—"

"No, Bellamy. I'm not going; I can't go." Argued Cullen, shaking her head repeatedly.

Her blatant refusal to go without seeming to think twice about it was what tempered Bellamy. "You're not even gonna try? You're just gonna stay here, and pretend like that place doesn't exist?"

"Why are you pushing this?" She stipulated sternly.

"Because I think you're ready to go back." He enforced.

"Yeah, and you also think a lot of things that I don't agree with, like pulling levers that kill three hundred and fifty people." She caterwauled, throwing her hands up in aggravation. "You go. You ransack the place — do whatever the hell you want! But don't bring me into this. I'm not going back there just to relive my Dad and Maya dying in my arms. I won't."

Bellamy's nostrils flared, making it evident to Cullen that she had hit a nerve she didn't intend to trip, but wasn't shameful she had. "You're wallowing."

She was able to take it from Jasper — the verbal abuse that she was acting as though the events that occurred three months ago didn't happen. She had been taking it since November, because to Cullen, Jasper didn't understand what she had gone through. But Bellamy saying it? — Bellamy saying it was a new level of reevaluation for Cullen, who hated the fact he was making her second guess herself. Cullen knew she wasn't wallowing, she was being evasive; the very thing he assured her she wasn't.

"I'm not wallowing, I'm just not opting to willingly torture myself." She stated firmly, hateful green eyes tearing themselves away from Bellamy's steaming brown ones as she crossed over to the other side of the room. She hastily collected her things, before turning back to the Blake man. "Please, understand that I can't go back there. Ever."

And then she left the room, thinking to herself, one step forward, a million and one back.

♥️

( february 5, 2150 — delinquents' dropship )

          CULLEN STOOD OFF to the side, watching as the injured Grounders walked through the gates of Arkadia. She had just heard about the incident at Mount Weather — the incident that blew her previous home up from the inside out, killing forty-nine sky people in the process — and she had decided to distance herself for a while. Being unincluded was a thing that truly bothered Cullen, but on that day, she wanted nothing more then to be kept far away from anything involving murder.

That was why when she caught a glimpse of Monty and Jasper climbing through a hole in the fence, she followed them without thinking twice about it.

"Monty!" Cullen called once they were far enough from Arkadia to be assured they wouldn't get caught. She had kept her footing light, not wanting to startle either of the boys, but the sky was fading a darker shade of blue, and she didn't want to put any more distance between her and them before nightfall.

"Cullen?" Monty's head snapped around, relief flooding his walnut irises as he pulled himself and Jasper to a stop. He waited for Cullen to properly approach them before he continued speaking. "What're you doing out here?"

Cullen's eyes flickered across to Jasper, who had a prominent scowl laid across his lips. The two of them hadn't spoken since their brawl on Cullen's birthday, and neither of them were opting to change that any time soon. "I saw you guys leave, and figured wherever you're going, it's better then being in there."

Jasper audibly scoffed, intoxicated eyes barely holding the resentment he felt towards Cullen as he stared across to her. "My day just keeps getting better and better."

"Did you hear about the Mount Weather memorial?" Asked Monty, electing to ignore Jasper's jab.

She paled, feeling the pull of discomfort at her stomach. Kane had told her about it, and prompted her to attend, which she denied almost instantaneously — Kane understood, and knew when not to push something onto Cullen.

"Yeah, I heard. I didn't feel like attending a memorial that's three months outdated." She commented curtly, hearing the uncharacteristic undertones in her voice. It was extremely callous of her to say something so lacking in sympathetic emotion, but Mount Weather was a sore subject, even then.

Monty nodded knowingly, but Jasper was the one to speak. "Something we can agree on." He coughed out, before turning on his heels and treading further into the woods. Upon his retreat, Cullen glanced across to Monty, who grumbled with a sharp shrug of his shoulders before the two followed after the Jordan boy.

"What the hell are we doing here, Jasper?" Monty questioned around ten minutes later, after Jasper had finished taking a swig from a flask he had pulled out of his pocket.

"Visiting old friends." Jasper said ghastly.

Cullen had opened her mouth to question the boy further, only for her to clamp it tightly shut again upon her eyes settling on a metal makeshift building surrounded by more metal reinforcements. The entrance to the building was ajar on top of a small grass hill, a curtain drawn across to give whoever lived inside the privacy they required.

It was only when both boys pulled to a stop, a deadened look settling across Monty's features as Jasper raised his flask in toast, that Cullen realized where they were was the dropship — the first dropship that had brought the hundred delinquents to the ground. A graveyard, she assumed, for all the people that had died or been killed there.

Jasper was gulping down whatever alcoholic substance filled the flask like it was never ending, Cullen not bothering to look over when Monty stepped in.

"I think you've had enough." Said Monty, reaching for the flask.

"You have no idea." Jasper dodged his hand, and pointed an accusing finger to the Green boy. The subject was immediately dropped as Jasper shrugged the backpack from his shoulders. "Time to give some back."

He was stumbling away when Cullen's attention turned to Monty. "What's he talking about?" She asked in a voice just above a whisper.

Monty shrugged, eyes watching Jasper's jagged frame advance closer to the dropship but he turned around, gaze dropping to the discarded backpack. He moved towards it, crouching against the grass as he pulled various items from inside of it: a canteen, an empty bottle that was once filled with alcohol, a blade tucked inside its holder, and eventually, an ambiguous tin. Twisting the cap off, Monty's fingers delved through a white, ash like texture, pulling out what was shaped like a human tooth.

"Is that a tooth?" Cullen's sickened voice questioned.

Monty darted up, careful not to spill the remains inside the tin, as he angrily blurted out, "Tell me this isn't what I—"

Cullen rounded around him, shoulders sagging at the sight of Jasper, sprawled out against the grass, flask hugged tightly to his chest. She frowned, deeply, and followed after Monty as the two of them sat down beside Jasper, taking in his ashamed state — they wouldn't leave him, but they certainly weren't going to wake him. They just sat, in silence, for what seemed like a very long time.

Mount Weather was what Cullen thought about. Both attacks — three months ago, and the previous day. People had it out for the mountain that hurt so many people, and Cullen could understand why; she just wasn't willing to accept the place that had been her home for nineteen years was now ruined, with no capability of being built up again. Fairly enough, her words were certain in stating she wouldn't be returning to Mount Weather, but hearing that she no longer had the option was daunting to her.

It was around half an hour later when Monty shuffled a few inches away from Cullen, the tin still clasped tightly in his grip. Cullen, not wanting to question who was inside the tin, had remained quiet in benefit of Monty's grief — he was willing to talk now, she assumed, as he placed the tin on the ground between them.

"This is Finn." Monty introduced, saddened irises flickering between Cullen and the tin. "He came down with the hundred — was arrested for an illegal spacewalk Raven had taken, but he covered for her so she wasn't floated. He was reckless, protective, and peaceful. He saw the good in the Grounders before anybody else; except Octavia. He was willing to live without a war." He paused, blinking harshly against the tears that brimmed his eyelashes. "He was in love with Clarke, and so much so that he killed eighteen Grounders in a village that he thought was keeping her captive, when really she was in Mount Weather.

Clarke killed him." Cullen's ablazed eyes darted to meet Monty's, who only nodded. "Mercifully. She stabbed him in the heart to prevent him from suffering a more painful death from the Grounders."

Cullen nodded subtly. She had heard about Finn, and the kind of person he was. Nobody spoke of him frequently, and she had just gathered enough knowledge to know he was extremely important to both Raven and Clarke, conclusively silencing her from asking the Reyes girl about him. Finn seemed to be important to a lot of people, and by Monty's simple description of him, Cullen felt envious of those who were fortunate enough to meet him.

"I'm guessing Jasper wanted to spread his ashes where everything started." Cullen assumed in a small voice.

"Yeah." Monty whispered in return, angling his head towards where eighteen makeshift graves were peeking out from the side of the dropship. "We buried our people here. We weren't given the opportunity to bury Finn."

She frowned, understanding his pain enough to lean forward and place her hand over his. "Finn would appreciate this, Monty. Being back here, with his friends. This is where he belongs."

Nothing more was said between them as nighttime came. Jasper was still unconscious, and Monty hadn't moved his hold around the tin containing Finn's ashes, so Cullen went about making a fire, and adventuring into the dropship to find a blanket to coat over Monty's shoulders. A few more hours passed of the deafening silence until Jasper woke with a start, bringing Cullen and Monty's attention away from the crackling fire.

Jasper groaned as he pushed himself from the ground, mumbling incoherent things to himself.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Monty asked, strained voice talking as calmly as possible.

"Home sweet home." Jasper proclaimed, eyes scouring the dropship. As he began moving, Cullen pushed herself up from where she lay uncomfortably against the grass.

Monty held up the tin. "Does Abby know you took these?"

"Uh..." The Jordan boy mumbled as he lifted his empty flask up to his lips. "Since I stole them, probably not."

"Jasper, you can't just break into the Chancellor's room and steal things." Cullen sighed, swiping a hand across her tired eyes.

"It's memorial day, all right?" Jasper snatched the tin from Monty's hands, before he began unscrewing the lid. "Let's, uh, scatter them with the others."

"Finn's ashes aren't yours to scatter." Monty stated crossly as he shoved himself from the ground, Cullen following in suit. "What about Raven? Besides, if Abby still had them, it means she's saving them for Clarke." At the mention of the Griffin girl, Jasper turned his back to Cullen and Monty, only infuriating the Green boy further. "Who cares who it hurts, right? Yeah, whatever Jasper wants, and screw the rest of us."

"No. No. Screw Clarke." Jasper spat, turning back around to face them. "You are both mass murderers, as far as I'm concerned."

"That's enough. You don't get to say things like that and assume it's ok because you're hurting. That's not the way the world works, Jasper." Cullen argued angrily.

"I get why she did it." Jasper started, ignoring Cullen's comment. "And why Bellamy helped her, but you — Maya was your friend. She was my—" He stopped, sullen features quickly fading into sorrow. "How is it that you can wipe out an entire civilization, yet I'm the one who can't sleep at night? How—how can you just be fine?"

Monty stumbled against Jasper's violent hands. "I'm not fine! Just because I'm not drinking myself into a stupor every night doesn't mean I'm not screwed up, but we had no other choice."

Jasper's mocking laughter followed after. He had turned his back to them again, the tin raised in line with his head. "You hear that, Finn? He thinks he's innocent. None of us are innocent."

The familiarity in Jasper's words plagued both Cullen's heart, and her mind. They had been the words she remembered Maya telling Jasper before she died — the last words she had said, more specifically.

"Ok. Float you!" Monty barked out, silencing Jasper's laughter very quickly. "For three months, we have watched you torture yourself and everyone around you, mostly me and Cullen, but I'm done being your punching bag. Either you pull yourself together and get on with your life, or you fall apart alone."

"Are you done?"

"I miss my best friend."

"He died that day, too." Jasper claimed, and that seemed to be the end of the argument. Monty began to walk away, though Cullen stayed rooted in her place, jaw slightly slackened as her eyes flickered between the two boys that had loved each other more than anything in the world the day she met them. "You're leaving?" Monty continued walking, and Cullen continued to be frozen. "See you on the other side!"

Jasper tripped, sending both him, and Finn's ashes, scattering to the ground. It brought another saddened frown to Cullen's lips, and after a moment of watching Jasper decompose on the ground, she began to step away from the scene. She was almost completely out of range of the dropship when Jasper's voice sounded again.

"How are you ok with this? How are you ok with them?" Jasper asked her in a weak voice.

Cullen stopped, mentally debating with herself whether she needed to get involved with Jasper about the same situation again. And ultimately, she decided she did, as she found herself turning, arms crossed firmly against her stomach as she said, "I'm doing what Maya would have wanted. She never would have held grudges against people who didn't have another choice — that wasn't her. Maya wasn't selfish, and she certainly would have never blame people for things that were out of their hands."

"They killed her!" Jasper roared, the crack in his voice rendering pity in Cullen's gut.

She nodded. "They did, and they can't take that back. But you? You're killing yourself, Jasper, and that's making my job a lot more difficult." She bit her tongue, strongly wishing for the next words that were to spill past her lips to stay contained in her mouth. "I promised Maya; that no matter what, I'd keep you alive — that no matter what, you of all people would survive."

Fighting against her restraints, Cullen moved forward, and crouched down in front of Jasper. His eyes were gleaming bloodshot and teary, but she didn't feel a bit of sadness because of it. "Sober up. Get your life together so that I can keep my promise to Maya, because God forbid I'm letting the boy she loved die because he's too self destructive to realize what he's doing is killing everybody, including himself."