thirty . . . not your mistakes
( february 22, 2150 — boat people territory )

          BELLAMY WINCED AS Cullen's head slammed against the headrest, again, for the fourth time that hour. He was driving as carefully as he was able to, but their path wasn't the smoothest of courses, and Cullen had chose a moving vehicle to try and sleep in — Bellamy was genuinely apologetic, Cullen noticing the sheepish look her sent her in return for the annoyed glare she passed him.

"It's been an hour since we passed the airplane wreckage." Said Jasper, who was inspecting the map inside Lincoln's book. "Seeing as we're using a map without any distances, it could be days before we reach Luna's village."

"At least we know we're going in the right direction." Bellamy replied.

"We're running out of daylight. We should stop in the sun to recharge the battery." The Jordan boy continued.

"What sun?" Clarke, who sat across from Jasper, asked, looking out the windshield at the cloudy sky. "We keep going until it dies."

"We keep going until we get to Luna." Octavia disputed, thunder following her words as rain began to pour from the clouds, heavy droplets hitting the top of the rover.

There was a pause in the back of the rover, before Jasper asked, "This her?" Cullen turned around in the passenger seat, looking across to the drawing of a woman with wild curly hair marking the page — Octavia confirmed that it was Luna. "What do you think she's gonna say when we show up asking to put an A.I. in her head?"

"Let's hope she's cooperable." Said Cullen.

"Lincoln said she helps those that are in trouble. She'll help us, too." Assured Octavia.

Cullen turned back around in her seat, eyes glancing across to Bellamy, who timidly returned the stare — it was brief, though long enough to soothe the raging emotions that flickered around Cullen's emerald irises. He looked away, focusing on the path in front of them while Cullen kept her attention on him, frowning at the cuts that delved deep in his skin.

Her staring was cut short when the rover came to a haltering stop, the tires screeching against the mud of the path. Turning her head, Cullen's eyes settled on an embedded tree blocking their only way forward.

"Think she can help us find a better map?" Cullen heard Jasper mutter.

"Backtrack. We'll find somewhere where the trees aren't so bad." Said Bellamy, looking across to Cullen, before turning to look at the three teenagers sitting in the back — only, there was just Clarke and Jasper, Octavia having made her way out the back of the rover. "Hey! O..."

Cullen sighed, pushing open the passenger door. "Guess we're going on foot." Clarke remarked as they met at the front of the rover.

"Anyone hear the part where I said it could be days?" Jasper hollered, walking slowly away from the rover.

"She'll stop when she gets tired." Said Cullen, nodding towards where Octavia ran through the soaked grass.

"Stop." The Blake girl called, everybody freezing in their steps. They listened closely upon Octavia's request, hearing the sound of running water coming from somewhere on their right. "You hear that?"

"Water." Clarke answered, the two of them taking off into a sprint towards the sound.

Huffing out, Cullen, Bellamy, and Jasper dashed after them, the sound of Bellamy clicking his rifle into place being louder than anything else. "Eyes sharp. They could be hostile." He warned, eyes trained up to where Clarke and Octavia had ran up a small slope.

Octavia turned around. "They're not hostile. Put the gun down."

Bellamy sighed, looking down at the rifle, before lowering it. Cullen called out for him to come along, the two of them following the three teenagers up the small slope and along the running water, which was thrashing alongside a long plain of grass that Octavia was leading them through. They weaved in and out of trees, skidding down another small slope as the river they had heard led them to an ocean — miles and miles of nothing but water and cloudy skies.

"Where's the village?" Asked Jasper, looking to Octavia, who carried Lincoln's book tightly in her hand.

She flipped it open to the map, inspecting it for several seconds before looking back up, her eyes attaching on eight stone statues in the near distance. Glancing over her shoulder, Cullen's eyes flickered between Lincoln's drawing, and what marked where they could find Luna's village — there was no village. Only the stone statues, a few trees, several washed up logs, and the ocean.

"No. Oh, no. It can't be." Octavia denied, snapping shut the book before taking off, again, this time in the direction of the statues. The four of them followed after her, running around the ridge where the ocean met the shore until they were near the statues, Octavia looking back to Lincoln's drawing; she was trying to see if there was something she was missing, but it was obvious the statues were what marked Luna's village.

"Isn't a village. It's just a bunch of rocks." Said Jasper, defeatedly looking to Octavia, who was storming past the rock statues and towards the shore.

"She's gone." Clarke murmured, turning around to look between Cullen, Bellamy, and Jasper.

"What do we do now?" Cullen asked, unfairly looking to Clarke for the answer.

Only, the Griffin girl couldn't offer her one, because she didn't know. Luna was the answer, but Luna wasn't there — the one plan they had had just collapsed before them, Octavia taking it the hardest. She had fallen onto the rocks that separated them from the ocean, an aggravated scream torching her throat as everybody frowned, knowing they were all as clueless as each other.

After a few moments Cullen shivered, eyes looking away from Octavia's back and up to Bellamy, who was reluctant to take his eyes off his sister. "I'm gonna go find some dry wood for a fire." She said, deciding they should stay there until they figure out what they're going to do next.

He looked back to Octavia, his frown only deepening before he dropped his rifle onto the sand they stood upon, and nodded to Cullen. "I'll help." He said, before taking off into the woods that surrounded them. Cullen and Jasper, who looked to them in agitation after Bellamy's careless actions, watched the man walk away, before the Vander female jogged after him.

The two of them walked through the woods, neither of them bothering to speak as they dug through the wet wood to find the dry ones, collecting a reasonable amount so that their fire would stay lit for as long as they needed. Cullen piled them into Bellamy's arms, ensuring he could carry as many as he said he could, before she began loading them into her own arms.

After ten minutes of searching, delving so far into the woods that the canopy above them had begun to darken their pathway, the two headed back to the shore, still not uttering any words of importance. Cullen wanted to speak — she wanted to know what Bellamy was thinking. She wanted to know how they were going to defeat A.L.I.E. now that Luna was out of the question, she decided against asking questions Bellamy didn't have the answers to; it was more the fact Cullen wanted to hear him speak, rather than allow him to suffer in silence. She just wanted him to tell her something — anything — to get rid of the hopelessness that weighed them down.

They were approaching the shore when Cullen turned to Bellamy, her tired eyes analyzing the side of his face. There wasn't an emotion clear on his features, his lips set in a tight line, brown eyes focused forward. She debated with herself whether asking him if he was all right was a stupid question or not, because it most certainly was, but she needed to know — her needs and wants being very different in that moment.

"Are you ok?" She finally asked in a small voice, keeping her eyes on his face.

"Fine." Was all he said, and would say to her until later that night.

When they returned to the shore Octavia had moved onto the sand beside Jasper, who had already begun trying to spark up a fire for when Cullen and Bellamy returned with the wood. Clarke was sitting on a log, perking up when Bellamy dropped his wood onto the sand, Cullen placing hers down carefully next to Octavia and Jasper.

"It'll be dark soon. We need to talk about what we're gonna do." Said Clarke.

"We wait until first light, and then we split up and search the shore in both directions." Strategized Octavia, who had sparked a flame. She carefully carried it over to the wood Cullen had collected, placing it underneath before blowing on it gently — the flames enlarged, spreading out across the wood, creating instant heat.

"I agree. Lincoln wouldn't put this spot on the map unless it was important." Bellamy bent down to pick up Lincoln's book, only for Octavia to snatch it out of his hands savagely.

"Don't touch that." She barked, cradling the book as though it was a child.

Cullen's lips curled in on themselves, her gaze switching between the Blake siblings. Bellamy sighed, and eventually crouched down to where Octavia was kneeling, while Octavia prodded the fire, making the flames go higher; Clarke and Jasper were doing the same, neither of the three being able to excuse the manifested tension between the siblings.

"Come on, O. How long?" Bellamy asked his sister in a low, imploring tone.

"I don't know." Octavia answered, breaking sticks over her knee. "I can't even look at you, because every time I do, I see Pike putting that gun to Lincoln's head. I hear the gunshot. I see him fall."

Bellamy paused, before shaking his head subtly. "I didn't kill Lincoln."

"No, but he is dead because of you." She accused, returning to her normal height. Cullen's eyes travelled with her, wondering what it must be like to love somebody so much, but looking at them and seeing nothing but their mistakes; she'd assume it must get tiring, but Octavia was yet to cave when blaming Bellamy.

"I came to you. You didn't take my help. If you had just trusted me, I—" Bellamy stood, too, beginning to approach Octavia when she shook her head and moved away, stopping him mid sentence. Thwarting rolled over Bellamy's features as he set his jaw hardly, staring down at Octavia for a few more seconds before he was walking away, heading down the shore, far away from the group.

Everybody watched him go, Cullen deciding with herself that she'd go after him if he didn't come back within the next hour or so. She understood that what Bellamy needed was a little space to think for himself — away from her, away from Octavia, and everything else that was happening to them.

Cullen caught Clarke's wrist as she began to walk after Bellamy. She shook her head lightly to the Griffin female. "Give him some time. He wants to be alone." Clarke nodded, and returned to sitting on the log she had previously been situated on.

From the ground Jasper sighed, balling something between his fingers before he tossed it into the fire, standing as he did so. Whatever it was he had thrown in, it meddled with the orange flames of the fire, crackling against the wood before turning the once ember fire green, taking everybody aback as they shuffled away slightly.

"What did you just do?" Cullen asked, looking to Jasper.

Jasper looked down to the plant leaves in his hand. "Nothing. I just threw these in the fire."

Something dawned across Octavia's face as she looked at the plant, bending down to retrieve Lincoln's book. They watched as she hurriedly flipped through the pages as though in search of something, before eventually pulling out a single leaf. She examined it briefly before tossing it into the fire, the same effect of the green flames happening again.

"Signal fire. He was trying to tell us." Octavia revealed triumphantly. "This is how we contact Luna."

"I'll get more." Said Jasper, throwing in the plant leaves he had left in his hand, before moving towards the woods, leaving the three females alone, grinning to each other as their original plan came back to life.

♥️

          THE SKY WAS pitch black when Cullen made her way along the shore towards where Bellamy sat against the sand. She had given him two hours — two hours in which she watched him from a distance, ensuring he was always still in sight — but two hours, nonetheless, and he was still making no advancements back to the group. Cullen was going to let Clarke go along and collect Bellamy, but when Clarke said she thought it'd be better if Cullen was the one to talk to the Blake man, she didn't argue.

When she reached him she took a seat beside him, crossing her legs beneath her as her hands fell into her lap. She didn't dare look at him, fearful of the emotions that might or might not be on his features, so she looked forward, eyes dancing along with the waves that beat against the shore — Cullen adored the sound, having never been near an ocean before, it was all she wanted to listen to.

After a few minutes of silence Bellamy sighed, and tightened his hold around his knees. "I'm not in the mood to have you lecture me on how I messed up, too."

"I'm not going to lecture you." She answered, eyes remaining on the waves. She thought they were the most beautiful thing, even in the darkness; they were slow, and undulating, palpating towards them in careless currents of riparian-blue. The movements entranced Cullen, almost making her forget the impending fear that rested in her heart, streaming a never ending series of worry through her body. After so long, she finally admitted, "I'm scared."

His eyes turned on her — she was much more interesting than the ocean. "Of what?" He asked timidly.

"Of my blood." She looked at him. "Of A.L.I.E.. Of the A.I.. Of Luna not wanting to take it. Of Clarke finding out I have Nightblood, and wanting to put that thing in my head." Cullen stopped, sucking in her bottom lip to stop it from curling down into a frown. "If Luna's the last Nightblood and doesn't want to help us, and the only way to take down A.L.I.E. is to put the A.I. into somebody's head, then it's gonna be mine, and I want to help, but I can't..."

"I won't let that happen." His guttural voice sounded, eyebrows furrowing together sternly — stubbornly, as though the last thing he'd allow to happen is something harming Cullen.

She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. "You can't promise me that you're gonna protect me."

"I can." He argued, dropping the hold he had around his knees so he could angle himself more towards Cullen, who blinked tumultuously to him, unable to do anything but watch as emotions overflowed his irises, neither his eyebrows nor his curls being able to cloud them from sight. "I'm sorry that I haven't in the past, but I can now, and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"I don't need your apologies, Bellamy." Cullen refused.

"I know." He answered, sighing expressively through his nostrils, before he continued. "I wanted to believe I was right for following Pike. I wanted to believe that what I was doing was saving our people — saving Octavia, and you. I wanted to believe it so bad that I did, and that stopped me from realizing what my actions caused." Bellamy looked away from Cullen, craning his neck to scope for Octavia, who was sat talking to Jasper; Cullen followed his gaze, frowning upon recognizing that Bellamy blamed himself for all that had happened since he murdered the army of Grounders. "I got Lincoln killed."

Cullen turned back to him, shaking her head. "You didn't. Pike got Lincoln killed — Pike got everybody killed. Lincoln dying wasn't your fault, Bellamy." He didn't believe her, diverting his eyes to the ground. Tempered, Cullen seized hold of Bellamy's chin, roughly angling it back towards her, meeting their eyes once again. "It wasn't your fault. You're not a murderer. I know that I said you were, but I was angry at you for doing something I knew you would never have done if Pike hadn't gotten into your head, but you're not a murderer."

"I've killed people, Cullen. A lot of people."

"So have I. Those Guards in Mount Weather — I killed them so that we could be alive." Her hand dropped to his, fingers curling around the inside of his palm. "I don't agree with what you did, but everything you've done, every person you've killed, was for the benefit of your people, one way or another. It's what you do: you protect people. Make them feel safe." She allowed herself to frown. "You're not your mistakes."

Bellamy stared down at their hands, threading his fingers through Cullen's quivering ones. "Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"Eventually." Cullen answered. "Have you forgiven yourself?"

He didn't like the question, because he hadn't. He couldn't find it in him to forgive himself for the innocent lives he took that day on the field — the three hundred people he killed, and the people before that. Lincoln, who he could have helped. He hadn't forgiven himself, simply because he didn't find himself worthy of anybody's forgiveness; after everything he had done, the torture he had put many people through, he'd cast himself aside, too, and Cullen knew all of this.

"I forgive you." She spoke quietly. As he turned back to her, her eyes lowered, her thumb stroking against the soft skin on the back of Bellamy's hand; it was vastly different to his palm, that she knew from the several times she had held his hand was littered with small scars. He took the opportunity to look around her face, watching the line between her eyebrows appear, only to disappear seconds later — her blush pink lips curling down into a frown, before turning up into a small, inspirited smile. "For everything. For killing those Grounders, for choosing Pike's side. For shooting me. I forgive you."

"Why?" He asked in a low, rumbling whisper.

Cullen's lionized green eyes lifted, drifting between Bellamy's. "Because you're not a bad person. I know that — I've seen that. I believe it's still true."

She truly thought the world of him. Being able to look past his mistakes, after all this time being indifferent to each other, and seeing that he was still the man willing to risk everything for the people he cared for was an attribute Bellamy canonized in her — he was in complete captivation of her ability to still have faith in him. He wasn't sure Cullen understood just how much her forgiveness and hopefulness meant when all he could do was punish himself for the mistakes he had made.

"You need to forgive yourself, maybe then you'll understand why I have."

He nodded, neither of them realizing the close distance their faces now rested. Bellamy could see each individual hue of Cullen's green eyes, some of them a deep, woodland brown, the others a rich, sweet honey. They made her eyes all the more entrancing, as he couldn't bring himself to stop looking between them, inching his head closer. Even this close, the nearest light being the fire glow eighty yards to their left, he was taken aback by her obvious, memorizing beauty, which constantly baffled him and the empowering, continual rise in how much he was attracted to her.

Being this close to Bellamy was new, yet old, territory. Cullen had been this close to him before; so close she was able to see which of his freckles were darker, and which were concealed behind the cuts and scars that marked his skin. Every part of his outer demeanor was attractive, but she was fascinated by the scar that was etched into the left side of his top lip, slightly shadowed by dark hairs pricking their way to the surface. She wondered what caused it to be there, or how it felt to the touch — it was a dangerous thought, so dauntingly hazardous that she allowed herself to advance forward slowly, bringing their lips a mere centimeter away.

If either of them moved, the delicate skin of their lips would brush together, creating the contact both of them craved knowingly. He could feel her hot, shaky breaths on his bottom lip, his thumb and index finger coming up to lightly tip her head upward, their top lips grazing ever so slightly, before they were ripped away.

Cullen's chest was slammed into the sand, her throat oscillating as she coughed out harshly, the wind in her lunges being pushed straight out her mouth. Behind her, her wrists were being bound together, her attempt at craning her neck to look at her attacker only earning her cheek to hit the sand forcefully, before a gag was shoved between her teeth and tied tightly at the back of her head.

She was dragged to her feet, Bellamy struggling not too far behind her as their attackers, who wore strange black masks, walked them towards their campfire. Cullen thrashed around, alarmed, wide eyes looking between Clarke, Octavia, and Jasper, who were taking turns in making the fire glow green.

"No! No. It's ok." Octavia spoke to a man that held up a crossbow, loaded with an arrow, pointing in her direction. Cullen and Bellamy were forced to their knees as soon as they were next to the fire, gags still refraining them from speaking. There were several men surrounding them, one of them removing their mask as they rounded to stand in front of Clarke, Octavia, and Jasper.

"Chon are yu? Chomouda yu don flag daun?" (Who are you? Why did you signal?) The man asked.

"Ai laik Okteivia kom Skaikru en Ai gaf gouthru klir." (I am Octavia of Skaikru and I seek safe passage.) Said Octavia.

"Skaikru, bringers of death." The man wielding the crossbow said.

"Why should we give you safe passage?" The first man asked.

"Lincoln." Was all Octavia said, the name seeming to spark recognition amongst all of the people that surrounded them. The man looked around, as though trying to find the Trikru warrior. "He sent us."

The first man thought for a second, before he turned to the people that restrained Cullen and Bellamy. "Ban we their gags en free their hands." (Remove their gags and free their hands.) The man ordered, the restrainers doing as they were told. A cold knife slipped between Cullen's wrist and the material that bound them together, cutting it away before she stood hastily, tugging the gag from between her teeth.

Bellamy followed, shoulder connecting with her own as he looked across to his sister. "What's going on?" He questioned in a low tone.

"I don't know." Octavia answered, passing them a side glance, before turning her attention back to the man, who had pulled out a package before handing Octavia a vial filled with yellow liquid.

"What is that?" Clarke asked, before the man handed her and Jasper a vial each, moving to do the same with Cullen and Bellamy. The Vander female twirled the small bottle in her hand, inspecting the yellow liquid, finding it most peculiar.

"Safe passage." The man answered.

"What does it do?" Jasper pondered interestingly, quickly silencing himself when the man didn't offer him an explanation.

Cullen looked up from her vial and towards the man. "We drink it?"

He only nodded, before Octavia downed the liquid, Bellamy calling for her to wait. She gritted her teeth together, before dropping the small bottle onto the sand. "I trust Lincoln." Octavia claimed.

"If only she drinks, only she goes." Explained the man, before Jasper twisted the lid off of his vial.

"See you on the other side." He cheersed them, before dumping the contents into his mouth, swallowing it easily. From beside him, Octavia fell to the ground unconscious, Bellamy darting forward, only to be pushed back by the man — Cullen caught his arm, stopping him from moving forward again. "Oh, crap." Jasper mumbled, before he too fell to the ground.

Cullen's eyes darted across to Clarke, who looked impatiently between the Vander female and the Blake man. "This is the way we get to Luna." She said, tipping her head back and pouring the liquid down her throat. Seconds later Clarke fell to the ground, and all attention turned on Cullen and Bellamy.

She glanced up to the man, who she had been so close to kissing only moments beforehand — she twisted off the lid, bringing the vial to her lips, wishing it had been something else that made contact with the skin. "To Luna." She said, swallowing the liquid in one gulp, dropping to the ground instantly.

She was conscious long enough to watch Bellamy repeat the same action his four friends had done, him voluntarily sitting on the ground beside Cullen, before everything went black.

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🪐🤍 authors note:
i swear, every time i try
to make my chapters shorter,
they seem to get longer. and
i swear, every time cullen and
bellamy come close to
happiness, something interrupts
them, *sigh*