❝i have lived that life already. in the mud, in the shadows, in a cell, in a silk dress. i will never submit again. i will never stop fighting.❞

-mare barrow, red queen

♛

WHEN I WAS YOUNG, my mom had told me I loved fiercely. I had no idea what she meant at the time, and when I'd asked her, she simply continued to gently brush my hair. I remember exactly what she told me as she tied the top section of my hair up so it flowed down into the rest. "The boy you fall in love with will be incredibly lucky."

It scared me. And it still does- the idea of loving someone so much more intensely than anyone else. I hadn't felt it at all in my childhood, but I felt the platonic love from deep in my chest- the kind I feel for Clarke, my parents, Raven, and Octavia. I love them so much I'd die for them.

I'm certainly not in love with Bellamy, but I can see for the first time what my mom meant. It's what allowed me to offer my own life in place of his when Murphy hung him, what makes me sacrifice so much for him. The drop in my chest when I had thought he was going to fall down the cliff. It's not love, but it's the start of some sort of deep feeling that's terrifying.

I try to distract myself from these thoughts by drawing in my notebook. My trusty pen that I've somehow managed not to lose scratches against the paper rhythmically as I quickly sketch drawings of the plants we pass. My lips are pursed in concentration, trying to keep walking alongside Bellamy and Octavia without crashing into a tree. Luckily, my sure-footedness keeps me from tripping or stumbling.

"According to Clarke, before the bombs, there were buildings everywhere here," Bellamy comments. "I'm guessing some of them had access to the bunker. So we're looking for ruins. Anything that's man-made, okay?"

I barely seem to hear him as I round off one of the leaves on the bush I'm working on. Suddenly, Bellamy's arm extends out and grabs me faster than the speed of light, pulling me roughly to his side. I smack into him and look up from my notebook with my eyes wide. A tree stands in the path I was just walking in.

I turn sheepishly to Bellamy. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replies, releasing his grip on my elbow. He glares at the tree as if it had a choice to be there and shifts his weight.

"Hey, Blake, Rivers!" One of the guards calls from behind. I heave a frustrated sigh and roll my eyes at the sound of Officer Scott's voice. "Let's go, right now."

I turn to see the familiar dark-skinned man standing with a gun in his arms as if he's prepared to shoot. It's stupid, but the adults are too careful. A stern expression is permanently etched onto his face; all he ever does is yell at us like we're tiny children.

My eyebrows furrow at the sight two other guards following behind the first. Three? Why the hell would they need three guards to handle us? One seems like enough- if we need one, which we don't.

"In case you've forgotten, we're not under your command," Bellamy dismisses them coldly with barely a blink.

"Don't make us do this the hard way," Scott challenges.

"Come on." I plant my feet further into the soft soil while shifting my weight, raising an eyebrow at him. "We're not doing anything wrong. Or do you just like arresting us for everything we do?"

"Forty-seven of our people are prisoners in this mountain," Bellamy reminds the guards. He's so used to telling them off that he almost sounds bored with the situation. I don't blame him, seeing as I've grown tired of them constantly on our tails as well.

"That's why we're out here," Scott responds. The way he fidgets afterward tells me he's not telling the truth.

"Wrong. You're out here to find other stations of the Ark. We're out here to find our friends."

"Guys," Octavia says in a quiet, alarmed tone that makes me immediately turn my head toward her. Her eyes are fixed on a swarm of beetles scuttling on the ground at our feet, hundreds of them moving as fast as they can in a single direction.

"What are they doing?" Officer Scott questions in confusion.

"Running," Bellamy observes.

I face the direction the beetles are coming from and squint through the trees. I can feel a shift in the air, almost as if something's blowing toward us. My eyes start to burn, and even after I rub them, all it does is make them watery and more irritated.

A moment of realization strikes me. I lower my hand away from my eye and remember what made them burn in the first place.

"Acid fog," I announce with an edge of fear in my voice. Just as I say it, the yellowish substance starts to rush our way. By now my eyes are watering so badly that there are tears streaking down my face from the burning sensation that only gets stronger the closer the fog gets.

"We need cover, now!" Bellamy shouts as the high-pitched screams of the beetles below us gets louder, buzzing in my ears. I turn away from the acrid air in an attempt to shield my eyes from the cause of the white flecks in them. "Deploy your tents. Let's go!"

But while the others are working to get the tents set up, Octavia does nothing to help and instead watches the bugs scurry. I notice through bleary vision that they're going beneath something on the side of a slope of dirt and plants. Why are they all heading into the dirt?

I wipe my leaking eyes and jog past Bellamy and the guards before any of them can stop me. Octavia glances at me and takes in my appearance before noting, "Can you see how they're moving?"

I nod. "That's not just land."

The two of us move in sync and sprint to the place where the beetles disappear. I bend down and brush away some loose soil, noticing a crack in some metal that they're heading for.

"O, Fal, get back here!" Bellamy orders, already moving toward us anyway.

"Bell!" Octavia shouts as her hands trail around the moss. "There's something in here. Maybe it's the ruins."

"Hey, over here!" Bellamy calls to the guards who are still struggling to deploy the tents. I shake my head at their lack of skill and help Octavia find anything useful- like a handle, maybe. A handle would be very nice.

Something cold and metallic touches my fingers through the rough moss. I dig my fingernails into it and wrap my hands around a handle, much to my delight. My still-burning eyes close while I yank as hard as I can. The door doesn't so much as budge- it must be rusted shut.

"I can't open it," I sigh in defeat, moving out of the way so Bellamy and Scott can use their combined strength. Besides, I can barely see now with the fog inching closer, and it wouldn't be a very good idea for me to try anyway.

Octavia shouting at them to hurry up isn't helping the buzzing of my nerves, either. It only increases them until I think there's a possible static noise in my ears. I don't even notice when they finally manage to pull the door open and Octavia stumbles inside.

I cough and cry out as the fog sends a searing pain to my eyes, making me bend over and squeeze them shut. They feel like they're on fire and my retinas are melting. Hot tears are streaming down my face in a more rapid flow than before, making it impossible for me to open my eyes.

"O!" Bellamy yells for his younger sister. "Get her inside. Hurry!"

I feel a pair of arms yank me into an even more intense darkness. My feet stumble into stale air and a place that's so cold I can feel it through my jacket. I still can't bear to open my eyes, but the sounds are terrible enough to chill me to the bone.

"Come on! Move it! Let's go, let's go!"

"Brixton, fall in. Now!"

"Brixton!"

"No, it's too late."

The third guard, of whom I assume is Brixton, is screaming as the fog consumes him whole. The door slams shut before any fog can get inside but the damage is already done. Soon it's not Brixton's cries ringing in my head- they're Atom's, and the memory of him begging us to kill him dances behind my eyelids.

"Fallon." Octavia plants two arms on either of mine and shakes me. "Fallon! Snap out of it!"

I don't realize I'm whispering his name between my sobs until I return to reality. My irises continue to burn, so I keep my eyes closed and force my tense body to relax. We're not in the fog anymore. We're safe.

At the price of Brixton.

I try to control my breathing, making it stop its trembling and forcing my lungs to take in slow, deep breaths. Octavia uses her sleeves to dry the tears from my cheeks in a comforting manner. I'm reminded of the time when she had been the one to show me what my eyes looked like. She had been excited, but now she's hardly the type to carry a mirror around.

Pretty soon I can open my eyes. There's a coolness in the air that both soothes and dries them, but the pain is still there. Octavia is nothing but a faint silhouette in front of me so I hope she can see my watery smile. "Thanks, O."

Her head moves in a nod before she releases me. The lights from flashlights flicker on, casting a harsh, bright light around the otherwise complete darkness around us. I can't tell where we are yet; however, the architecture of the place looks very old-fashioned.

I turn to see Bellamy watching me with concern. We exchange a nod to show we're okay, a protocol we established this morning as essential when we're in life-or-death situations. The fact he's okay - even if he's lying about it - is enough to send relief flooding through me.

"Let's go," Bellamy orders, handing Octavia and I each a flashlight. We set off walking through the cool, dusty air that dries my cheeks almost instantly. Shadows taunt us from every angle; shivers run down my spine.

Soon after setting out, we find ourselves shining our lights into an open area stretched far out beyond our sight. Cement columns connect the floor to the ceiling in neat rows that are evenly spaced apart. Cars covered in inches of dust and grime are parked in some areas, abandoned long ago and no longer usable.

"Where are we?" Scott asks lowly. His voice echoes through the building.

"This is a parking garage," I reply instantly. My knowledge of the old world is random - mostly because I'm more interested in the modern things, not ancient history - but I know that garages existed for people to park their cars in before walking around a city.

Octavia tenses beside me and pulls her sword out from the sheath on her back. The sharp sound of the blade sends a jolt through me as I remember a similar sword cutting across my stomach. My hand subconsciously flies to where the bandages are beneath my shirt.

"More like a tomb," Octavia comments wearily.

I can hear the shriek of rats and the sound of their claws scraping against the ground, but it does nothing to scare me. Tiny rodents don't bother me compared to what I've seen.

"Look, I'm sorry about your man," Bellamy says to Scott, "but we need to find an access door to Mount Weather."

He starts to walk away, but Scott interrupts him. "Hey, not so fast."

"That fog is not going anywhere for a while--" I start to counter but fall short when Scott reaches into the holsters on his hips and produces two handguns. My mouth hangs open sheepishly.

"We'll split up," he says. "Meet back here in fifteen." Bellamy and I nod in understanding, each of us taking a gun from him. "Be safe."

This catches me off guard, but I reply, "You too."

I turn and walk away from Scott without it crossing my mind that this may be the last time I ever see his face.

--

"I don't see anything," I comment as my flashlight sweeps around the area. All it does is illuminate the cars and pipes around us. "You?"

"No," Octavia responds with a sigh. She peers into an empty car for a few seconds before moving on. "All I've seen are abandoned possessions."

"Same here," Bellamy adds gruffly.

I jump and freeze at the sound of a song playing through the garage. My heart nearly stops at the sudden noise of one of the old Christmas carols playing from a static-filled speaker somewhere. I close my eyes and groan at the guards' doing.

"Is that a carol?" Octavia asks in confusion, eyebrows pinched together so a crease forms between them.

"I think so--"

Bellamy's sentence is cut off by a much more bone-chilling sound- a scream. The voice is unmistakably Scott and his friend, the horrible echo reverberating in my eardrums. This time, my body freezes for the right reason.

I start moving toward the source of the sounds with my flashlight pointed in front of me. Bellamy calls out for me to wait once again, but I don't,  hushing him instead and crouching down low on instinct. My senses are on high alert now; every hair on the back of my neck is standing up straight in fear.

I wipe below my faintly burning eyes and start to slow down once I feel a hand on the small of my back- Bellamy. His familiar touch helps me to relax somewhat. Octavia jogs to catch up and yanks us both down in front of one of the cement columns once we're close enough to the source of the song.

I'm faintly reminded of how typical children's songs used to be popular choices of songs in old horror films, and this feels no different. The music creates an eerie atmosphere that makes my blood go cold. Liquid terror courses through my veins and causes my legs to feel like jelly while I crouch. The white beam of light from my flashlight sweeps around the garage in hope of finding something.

"Scott?" Bellamy asks in a broken voice. "Are you there?"

The stupid bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum of the carol starts to increase in notes the further we walk down the garage, only adding to the fear that's causing my hands to shake. I trade my light for the gun, one hand on the safety so I can quickly flick it off.

"Oh, shit," I mumble upon noticing a rifle and walkie on the ground at our feet. A rustle nearby causes my eyes to drift from the supplies to the sound's source, but I can see nothing except inky blackness.

"Bell, what's that?" Octavia whispers- she heard it, too.

In response, Bellamy shines his flashlight in the direction the rustling came from. My heart leaps into my throat at the horrible sight of two ragged-looking men bent over one of the guards' bodies. His stomach is torn open and bleeding everywhere, but their killers only care about what's inside. Dear god. They're eating him.

My voice turns into a squeak. "Oh, shit."

"Reapers," Octavia murmurs the moment they realize we're near.

The light from Bellamy's flashlight has caught their attention, and they run toward us with surprising speed and gargled cries. I waste no time in raising my gun toward them. The rifle Bellamy picked up from the ground seems to be much more effective than my handgun, though, and he manages to fire five shots into one before I can get two in the other. Nevertheless, I shoot with as much speed as I can and find relief when the Reapers slump to the cement.

"O," Bellamy says lowly.

"What?"

"Take this." He hands her his handgun, which she accepts with distaste.

My feet move silently on the floor compared to the Blakes' heavy footsteps from their boots. I almost tell them to be quieter, but then I remember I'm only so quiet because I've been training to be like this for so long. Cautioning them would do no good.

Octavia moves jerkily with the gun stretched out in front of her. I can tell she's not used to holding one with how stiff her stance is, but I don't blame her.

Bellamy's flashlight shines onto the body of Scott. He, like the other guard, has his stomach slashed open with crimson blood pouring out. But, more importantly, a Reaper is hunched over him. My eyes squint at the familiar tattoos spiraling up the back of his head. He has more hair now, but his profile is unmistakable.

Lincoln.

Bellamy loads his gun with a sharp click. My arms are too numb with shock to move, so Octavia does instead. Her hand flies to her brother's shoulder to make him stop. "Don't."

Slowly, Lincoln's eyes rise to us. He is almost unrecognizable. He's dressed in a Reaper outfit, with dried remains of blood soaking the loose, ratty fabric of his clothes. Three lines of old, white paint slash across his face from his head to the other side of his chin. Blood drips from his mouth as inhuman growls escape his frothing lips.

"It's Lincoln," I manage to breathe out in a somewhat choked voice. I can only imagine what's going through Octavia's mind right now if I'm feeling this much shock. The last time I saw him, he had helped save her from a poisoned arrow. Now he might end up killing us.

"Lincoln?" Octavia says to him in a cautious, trembling voice. He rises to a standing position with his cold eyes trained on the three of us. "Lincoln, it's me. It's Octavia."

He steps over the body, seemingly deaf to what she's saying. Blood drips off of his chin before he charges toward us with an enraged yell. Octavia manages to shout, "Don't kill him!" just before he picks her up roughly and throws her onto the hood of a nearby car.

"Octavia!" I yell, finding no other choice than to raise my gun at him when he turns to Bellamy and I. I jump back when he grabs for me and his arm misses mine by mere centimeters. A gunshot hits Lincoln from behind, making my jaw drop as he slows to a stop. Bellamy wastes no time after that. He raises his rifle with a shout and brings it down hard on Lincoln's head, knocking him out cold.

I stare at his body in shock as it thunks to the cement at my feet. Bellamy grabs onto both Octavia and I and pushes us along, away from him. "Come on, we need to get somewhere safe."

--

A car is what Bellamy classifies as 'safe.' I sit uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the dusty automobile while Octavia sprawls in the back. Bellamy taps on the wheel impatiently, pursing his lips.

"What if this thing worked?" I whisper as I trail my finger over the dashboard. It gets coated in a layer of thick dust that I flick off. "Can you imagine how cool that would be? I bet Raven could get one of these working."

Bellamy nods thoughtfully and glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I bet she could."

"Awesome," I say as quietly as I can. "I want one for my birthday."

Bellamy seems to think I'm joking and chuckles to himself. He apparently doesn't realize that my birthday actually is coming up next month, nor does he ask when it is.

"Can we leave now?" Octavia grumbles from the back. She's lying with her limbs splayed out around her on the seats, a frown on her face. "This is so uncomfortable."

Bellamy glances out of the grime-coated window. "I think so. Looks safe."

I scoff and shake my head. Nothing is ever safe.

We open the doors as quietly as possible without them creaking too loudly. After hopping out and closing it once again, I take out my handgun and flashlight so I can hold one in each hand. The three of us regroup at the back of the car.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Bellamy asks his sister.

I turn to see her with fear in her eyes, but she masks it over with blankness. She sniffles and nods.

My skin is damp with sweat from the fear combined with the surprising heat of the stuffy car we were just in. The other two don't look much better. Octavia's neck and Bellamy's face are both slick as well.

"Okay," Bellamy whispers. "You and Fallon will draw him in. I'll do the rest."

He slinks back to the front of the car, moving like some sort of cat. I touch Octavia's elbow and nod at her to give her some form of encouragement. She releases a shaking breath and returns the favor.

I shine my flashlight around to see if Lincoln is anywhere near, but come up with nothing. My heart thuds in my ears; I make note that this could very well be my last day. Going against a Reaper is basically a death wish. Going against one you can't kill means you're already dead.

Octavia calls out his name loudly. "Lincoln?" A clang and the sound of water dripping makes me swivel around and point my gun at the noise. The light reveals nothing. She nudges me. I clear my throat.

"Lincoln!" I call out more sharply than she did, not bothering to stretch out the two syllables. "Can you hear us?"

A zombie-like groan comes from behind the wall of a booth right across from us. Lincoln emerges into view with hobbled steps, breathing heavily as he comes closer and closer.

I grab Octavia's arm and start to pull her around the other side of the car while Lincoln advances. His lip curls into a snarl that chills my blood. My feet nearly slip on a loose stone, but since I'm holding onto Octavia, I don't fall. If I did, that would've been the end of both of us.

Lincoln almost has us cornered against the wall. For a second, I wonder where the hell Bellamy is by now.

"I'm sorry," Octavia whispers just as Bellamy appears from behind Lincoln.

"Hey!" he shouts. Lincoln barely has time to turn around before an electric baton is jammed into his neck, causing him to fall against the wall and give a gurgled scream of pain. Bellamy keeps it steady against his skin even as Lincoln falls to his knees. Octavia puts a hand to her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes. I tighten my grip on her in reassurance.

Lincoln finally passes out from the surge of electricity. His body is slumped to the ground in front of us, still except for the rise of his back as he breathes.

Octavia asks the million-dollar question. "Now what?"

"Now we take him home."

------

i forgot how scary this episode was especially with the christmas music like damn (especially when your phone rings in the middle of it and you have a minor heart attack)

q: who is your fave girl-power brotp?

1. fallon and octavia

2. fallon and clarke

3. fallon and raven

jw bc i wanna know your guys' opinions ((:

-kristyn