( NINE : HEAD OVER HEELS )

AFTER THEIR NERVE-WRACKING day, everyone was more than eager to head back to the dropship. As soon as Jasper was bundled up and secured on the makeshift stretcher, they were on their way.

Although they tried to be as gentle as possible while they moved, every motion still seemed to cause Jasper some sort of pain. His moans filled the air, setting everyone back on edge. The group was tense and wary; everyone worried about what—or who—might hear them along the way.

This is getting ridiculous.

At the distant sound of a groaning branch, Elissa whipped around to peer over her shoulder for the hundredth time. Her ears seemed fine tuned to any noise not coming from the group, instead catching every creak and crack in the forest around them. She knew the forest held a certain amount of natural noise, everything making its own sound as a breeze swept through, rustling leaves and rubbing branches against one another. She knew this, and it still gave her no comfort.

It would be too easy for someone to follow us right now. Stay just out of sight, hidden in the bushes or behind a tree. They wouldn't even need to see us to know where we are, it's not like we're actually trying to be stealthy, she thought. She cringed and shot a nervous glare at Wells, who had stepped heavily on some dry branches. The loud crunch causing the entire group to tense up.

Slowing her stride, she glanced around, allowing Clarke, Finn, and Wells to move past her with Jasper hanging heavily between the two boys. Ignoring Clarke's questioning gaze as she walked by, she focused instead on the dense foliage behind them, trying to see passed the shapes and shadows which too easily her attention.

They could be right there...standing just beyond the edge of the trees, watching us, studying us, waiting for the right moment for us to turn our backs...

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubbed her face tiredly with both hands and ignored the painful twinge her wrist gave. Footsteps came up beside her and she opened her eyes to find Blake frowning back in her direction she'd been looking before he turned to meet her gaze and adjusted the heavy branch he held over one shoulder.

"See something?" He grunted down at her.

Eyes roving his face before traveling back to the animal Blake and Murphy had strung up between them. She swallowed, trying to ignore the disgusting way it's head bobbed up and down with its tongue lolled from its mouth—blood dripping from its slack jowls and onto the forest floor below.

Grimacing, she turned away.

"No," she said with a small shake of her head, glancing back the way they'd come. "Hopefully, I'm just imagining things."

Hopefully.

Even to her it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"Yeah. Hopefully," Blake agreed quietly.

"Will you hurry it up?" Murphy snapped from the other end of the branch, making an irritated motion with his free hand and glared at them both. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to camp. This bitch is heavy and I'd like to get back sooner, rather than later."

Irritation flashed through her, momentarily pushed back any worry she had about being followed. Resisting the sign that tried to escape her, she shot him a scathing glare of her own. "It was your idea to bring it back," she drawled, motioning toward the dead animal. "So don't bitch about it."

With that, she turned and continued to walk up the path, picking up her pace to catch up with the rest of the group.

"Don't expect to get any, Bardot, because I'm not sharing." Murphy sniped back at her.

Taking a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and refrained herself from answering. It wasn't worth the effort and she knew that. He had no real say in how the food was divided up and she wasn't entirely sure that the one carcass could feed the whole group. They would need more, and soon. Besides, she felt more capable at surviving and finding her own food than most of the other delinquents.

Unfortunately, she couldn't ignore that he was right in one manner.

The sooner they returned to the dropship, the better.

When a small flock of birds suddenly took flight from the trees above them, and the air was filled with their distressed chittering and chirping, they all quickened their pace.

We need to get out of here.

For a long while, no one talked, saving all of their energy for their daunting trek home. Minutes quickly trickled into hours, although every glance up into the clear sky reassured her that the day was far from over. The trek back was easily tougher than any type of activity she'd ever done before. Her chest ached, her lungs struggling for air as her heart thumped heavily against her ribs.

On the Ark, physical activity was mandatory. Everyone was required to keep up a minimum level of fitness, the energy burnt and food consumed was harshly regulated. Fitness classes were held daily, and it wasn't uncommon to see joggers making laps around their stations at the end of their shifts, footsteps echoing on the steel floors as they went.

She'd always been considered fit, having trained with her brother after he became a Guard.

But this...this is something else entirely, she thought. Elissa panted and wiped away the beads of sweat that had accumulated on her forehead and had begun to run down the back of her neck. When she'd gotten too warm, she'd taken her jacket off and tied it around her waist. Even then, she found that her tanktop was sticking uncomfortably to her skin.

Apparently, running on flat steel ground is much, much easier than walking on mossy, hilly, log covered ground, she thought dryly.

Taking a glimpse around at the others, she was somewhat relieved to see that they all looked to be in the same boat, hair sticking to their foreheads, jackets around their waists, and feet shuffling forward like each one was twenty pounds heavier than it should be. But although they were all tired, none of them were willing to slow their pace. The urgency in their steps had yet to falter. None of them were willing to tempt the good luck they'd been graced with so far.

Fortunately, they didn't encounter any of the things that they felt were treading on their heels. And before they knew it, the sun began to duck down behind the mountains—the long shadows fading slowly into black—the distant flickering flow of flames began appearing through the gaps in the trees.

Thank God. Relief flowed through her at the distant sight.

Wiping a bead of sweat off her brow, Elissa looked back at the others to see how they were fairing. Each of them—minus Blake and Murphy—had taken turns carrying Jasper, switching out when he'd become too heavy. The weight often sent them stumbling; their wary feet having trouble finding purchase on the rugged terrain, especially as the daylight faded.

Elissa's turn had ended not too long ago, her wrist throbbing painfully as she switched off with Clarke, who was looking just as bone-weary as she felt.

Stepping over a fallen tree, her lazy stride caused her foot to get caught on said tree and sent her stumbling forward. Trying to stop her fall, she threw out a hand to brace herself against a nearby tree—a decision she instantly regretted as pain exploded up through her wrist. The slightly scabbed skin beneath her wristband tore open. Sucking in a deep breath, she froze against the tree, eyes clenched shut as she waited for the fresh surge of pain to fade.

It wasn't the first time, either. Between carrying Jasper and catching herself whenever she stumbled, her wrist constantly burned as they moved, each step and each heartbeat seeming to flare through her arm.

After Clarke had caught Elissa wincing more than a few times, she'd made more of an effort to hide her discomfort. The last thing they needed right now was to stop, not when Jasper's pained moans reminded them of the state he was in.

She could deal with this on her own.

"Fuuuuck..." she hissed softly under her breath, slowly releasing the breath she'd been holding and gently rubbed around the edge of her wristband, trying to soothe the never ending itching and pinching that permeated her wrist.

Apparently she wasn't as quiet as she'd hoped, from the amused snort that came from behind her. Gritting her teeth, she didn't need to turn around to know who was mocking her pain. But found herself turning anyway, shooting a glare at Murphy, who returned the look with a sadistic smirk. He appeared all too pleased with her discomfort.

God, she couldn't stand the guy.

As more familiar landmarks began to appear around them, Elissa couldn't stop the relieved sigh that escaped her. They were nearly there—they could see the fires in the distant and soon the dropship would be in their sights—and despite the general dislike she held for the other delinquents—she couldn't deny the solace she felt when they came into sight.

As they stepped into the clearing, some of the tension and adrenaline from the day's events slowly began to fade away and a bone-deep weariness took its place, settling around her shoulders like a heavyweight. While she knew that she was fooling herself with her optimistic view of safety, she knew that they were safer here than anywhere else and that allowed them some respite. Here they could recover, doctor their wounds and begin to think about how they were going to keep surviving with their new and hostile neighbors.

Walls. Definitely walls, she thought. Something nice and tall to keep the Grounders and anything else out there, out. The question is...how do we build it? The answer came to her as she glanced up, gaze landing on the enormous trees surrounding them. Now, if only we could find a way to bring some of them down...she shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. That could wait. Right now, Jasper took priority.

The group's arrival was met with mixed reactions. A few of the closest delinquents leapt up, clearly startled at their sudden appearance; the commotion sent a wave of interested murmurs throughout the rest of the camp. Soon, others were coming forward, curious at what had happened to them while they were away. Some looked relieved at the sight of Jaspers, others looking more excited at the prospect of the food that Blake and Murphy carried between them.

Clarke ignored all the attention, not pausing even once as she wove her way toward the dropship with Finn and Wells carrying Jasper at her heels. Elissa made sure to keep pace not far behind.

They were halfway up the ram when a frantic looking Monty stumbled through the draping that covered the entrance. As his gaze landed on them, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. For a moment, nothing moved—except his eyes—which flickered from face to face desperately, searching for any clues that could give him any indication to what happened. What they'd found.

When his eyes finally reached Jasper, the blood completely drained from his face, turning a sickly white. He stumbled back, bracing himself on the edge of the door. Elissa swallowed, feeling suddenly sick at the agony that swept across his face.

Blinking rapidly to clear his watery eyes, he opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out as he tried to ask the question that was clearly on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he managed to squeak out: "Is...is he..." the fear in his voice made her heart clench.

Clarke was the first to move, hurrying forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. She gave him—what Elissa thought—was the most reassuring look she could manage at the moment. "He's alive," she told him firmly, keeping her gaze steady. "But he needs medical attention. Right now, I need boiled water and strips of cloth, for bandages—as clean as you can find them."

"We can get that." Another voice joined them, and Harper stepped out from behind the coverings coming to stand at Monty's side with Charlotte right behind her. Harper gave them all a quick once-over before turning to Clarke. "We've set up a space for you inside. It's as clean as we could get it."

Clarke gave her an appreciative look and nodded. "Thank you."

Charlotte turned to give Elissa a concerned look, but Elissa shook her head, giving the girl what she hoped was a small reassuring smile, before motioning for her to follow Harper.

Clarke parted the thin material that someone had set up at the entrance of the dropship, allowing Finn and Wells to go through, before ducking through herself. Monty nearly tripped over her in his rush to follow. Elissa ducked into the entrance just as they gently lowered Jasper onto the set up space—a piece of the parachute neatly folded below him, providing some kind of padding against the cold hard floor.

Watching from the entranceway, Elissa couldn't help but be impressed at how quickly Clarke took charge of the entire situation, giving everyone orders on how and when to move and unwrap the unconscious Jasper, making sure that Finn and Wells moved slowly and were mindful of his injuries. When they pulled away the wrappings, Clarke took a deep breath before moving in to remove the only thing left on Jasper's chest: the quickly thrown together bandage she'd placed over the wound.

The material was soaked through, the previously white material was now stained a deep red. It was clear that although they'd tried to move him as smoothly as possible, his wound had still been agitated and had begun bleeding once more.

As Clarke removed it, Monty let out a strangled moan and stumbled backward until his back hit the wall, his face turning a sickly shade of green. Elissa couldn't help but feel bad from him as he slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees. She knew what it was like to feel useless when someone close to her bled out.

When Clarke dropped the bloody material to the side and leaned forward, Elissa caught sight of the fresh gaping wound on his chest and her breath caught in her throat, stomach turning violently. Turning away, she took a shaky breath and she quickly decided she—and her stomach—was better off outside. As much as she wanted to help, she knew she wouldn't be of any use if she threw up all over them. Blood—she shuddered—it was something she just couldn't deal with at the moment.

She wouldn't be of any help to them.

Sliding back through the material and into the refreshing cool evening air, she took note of the rapidly fading sunlight as her eyes landed on the group of rowdy teenagers hanging around the main fire, where Blake and Murphy were apparently showing off their kill.

"Who's hungry!" Blake yelled out to the surrounding crowd, who all roared back with an undeniable cheer of agreement.

Rolling her eyes, Elissa scowled and turned away. She wasn't interested in watching them show off. Especially when they hadn't actually killed anything.

Besides...what a stupid question, she grumbled to herself as she marched away, trying to ignore the hot spots on her feet, where her boots had begun to rub hours ago. I think we're all more than a little hungry at this point.

Her stomach quickly growled in agreement.

They were all hungry. And thirsty. And tired.

And God, her feet fucking hurt.

Going to the closest and comfiest looking log she could find, she threw herself down next to it. A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she finally got off her feet. Reaching down, she yanked her knife out from the side of her boot, laying it on the log beside her before quickly untying the laces. Forcefully yanking off her boots, she tossed them away angrily and they landed harmlessly a few feet away.

Catching sight of her bloodied hand, she grimaced and picked at the itching, flaking blood that had slowly begun to peel off her skin. Closing her eyes, she forced all current thoughts from her mind and let her head fall back against the log. She focused her mind on the pleasant feeling of the cool air on her feet instead of how her feet ached, how parched her mouth felt, how her stomach felt like an aching empty void, grumbling with pangs of hunger; how heavy her eyelids felt...

"Elissa?"

Eyes snapped open at the call of her name, she lurched forward, groggy and disoriented. The fog that was draped over her brain slowly lifted as she looked around, eyes landing on a figure that stood a few feet before her. As her mind cleared, she realized it was Monty. Blinking up at him dumbly, she noticed how dark it was around them, and realized that at some point, she must have fallen asleep.

Frowning, she also noticed how awkwardly he was standing with hands raised and eyes wide as he eyed her warily. He was standing defensively, looking at her like she was about to lunge.

Then she realized that she was. His movement had brought her out of her sleep and as she'd awoken, she had shifted forward, still kneeling on the ground with one leg coiled beneath her, ready to pounce. Her attention moved to the familiar weight in her hand—and with a jolt—she realized she held her knife defensively in front of her, prepared for an attack.

An embarrassed heat flushed through her face and she was glad for the darkness around them, although she was mildly surprised she didn't light up the surrounding area, knowing that her cheeks were bright red. Mortified by her own reaction, she quickly tucked the blade behind her and settled back against the log—trying to look normal.

Nothing like proving you're as crazy as everyone expects you to be. Her mind drawled at her in amusement.

"Uh," Monty began, slowly lowering his hands, although he still eyed her warily. "Sorry, didn't mean to—"

"No!" Elissa interrupted him a little more harshly than she meant to. When his eyes widened further and he stared at her like she was a wild animal that might bite him, she cringed. Bringing up a hand, she closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. "No," She began again, more softly this time. "Don't—Don't worry about it. You...just caught me off guard, is all."

"Ah, right," he said, slightly uncomfortable and glanced over his shoulder momentarily back toward the rest of the group.

Good going, Elissa.

An abrupt snort of amusement escaped her and at his puzzled expression, she shook her head. "Sorry," she sent him a small tired smile. "I'm not usually like this—whatever this is," she motioned a hand down at herself. "I think it's just been a long day."

Her comment seemed to have the desired effect, because he marginally relaxed and his shoulders dropped from the their defensive position. There was a pause where he seemed to make up him mind about something and shrugged to himself, throwing himself down on the mossy ground beside her.

"Haven't we all?" Monty said with a sigh and for a moment he looked pained as he stared toward the dropship. "Oh," he said with a small grin, suddenly remembering something. "I brought you something." He held up a small bottle and a stick, which she hadn't noticed him holding beforehand.

Puzzled, she stared at the stick for a moment, wondering what the hell was on it, when the delicious smell of cooked food hit her nose and her mouth watered.

"Is that real food?" Elissa asked almost desperately, stomach growling at the thought of something to eat.

At her predictably pathetic and excited expression, Monty huffed a laugh and handed it over, placing the bottle between them. "Wow, you must have been pretty tired. You missed the commotion of Sir Blake, and how he rescued his band of delinquent brats from starvation—feeding them the all-mighty beast he slayed during combat." He waved his hands around comically and at one point looking like he was warding off an invisible attacker.

Elissa snorted at his sarcastic drawl and then took a bite of the most delicious, juicy, tasty piece of food she'd ever had. "I take it you're not a fan?" She asked between bites.

"They annoy me." Monty shrugged. "Besides, he's trading food for wristbands. At this rate there won't be anyone with wristbands on by morning." He scowled. "I mean, how are we supposed to get in touch with the Ark, if people are cutting off our only line of communication?" Frustration was obvious in his voice, and he clenched his fists on his knees.

"Well, if it helps any, I promise to not trade in my wristband for anything." She offered, eyeing him sympathetically. "Not even if they promise to slay more beasts for food." She sent him an amused smirk which he returned with a sincere one of his own.

It was clear that whatever misgivings he'd had about her initial reaction had been withdrawn.

A companionable silence settled over them and she used the moment to take another mouthful of meat. She could barely withhold the embarrassing moan of delight that overwhelmed her, eyes closing as she chewed. The meat was unlike anything she'd ever tasted before. Although the outside was slightly charred from the fire, the inside was still juicy and tender. The entire thing a mix of amazing flavors—ones she'd never tasted in her life.

It was so, so different from anything they had on the Ark, where daily meals consisted of the products from the Agro Station, where in the early days of the Ark, engineers had designed an efficient space where nutrient rich vegetables were grown.

She remembered the first time she'd seen the vegetation. Beautiful. Green—unlike everything else on the Ark. She'd been in awe, gaping and staring, standing along with her fellow classmates. This was the type of life that still grew on Earth.

It was a shame that all those lush, vibrant plants were then crushed and processed into little packets of nutrition. It had been determined early in life on the Ark, that the most efficient way to get everyone the nutrition—the calories that they needed to survive—was to give them in gelatin wrapped, disgusting tasting little capsules.

With a shudder, Elissa tried to forget their nasty flavor and instead focused back on the most delicious meal she'd ever had.

Once she was finished, she settled back with a content sigh, relieved that the pangs of hunger and thirst were finally fading away. A howl of laughter came from a distant fire in camp, and Elissa had to smile. It was clear that food had brightened everyone's morale.

Turning her focus back to the boy sitting next to her, her satisfaction over her meal faded as she noticed the somber expression now etched on Monty's face, his eyes staring blankly toward the door of the dropship. His worry for his friend was still at the front of his mind.

Briefly, she wondered why he was out there with her, instead of with Jasper.

"He's going to be all right, you know." Elissa stated after a moment, trying her best to reassure him. Resting her arms on her thighs, her fingers played with the mossy ground. "Jasper's strong."

He's made it this far, he'll survive now that he has the help he needs.

Monty sighed heavily, rubbing his hands across his face. "I know—I know he is. It's just...I don't think I've ever felt this useless in my life. I've always been able to come up with an answer—a solution. But just seeing him lying there like that..." he trailed off before grumbling. "Clarke threw me out because I wouldn't stop asking if I could help."

Elissa felt a small smile tug at her lips at the thought. Reaching over, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Clarke's good at what she does. Her mother is lead medic on the Ark, remember? If anyone can patch him up, it's her."

"Yeah, I know." Monty repeated once more and although her words seemed to have comforted him somewhat, the uncertainty, the fear he held over the possibility of losing his friend was still present—still draped around his shoulders. She was sure it would be there until the moment was Jasper was up and walking. And even then, it would haunt him.

A rustle of movement caught her attention and she turned to find Monty pushing himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes as he stood.

"I'm going to head back," he said, glancing uncertainly at the dropship, before turning to look down at her. He shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. "Maybe Clarke will have something for me to do by now." He suggested, looking hopeful at the idea.

A thought struck her. "Maybe see if Clarke and the rest need any food or water. The hike was pretty crappy, and I'm sure they'll need some fuel of their own."

Monty nodded. "Sounds good. I'll sneak some more food from Bellamy's lot when they're not looking."

She chuckled in response, waving him away. "Shouldn't be too hard. Just don't get caught."

"Don't plan to," he answered simply and walked away.

"Hey Monty!" Elissa called out. When he turned to face her, she sent him a small smile, before holding up the bottle of water. "Thanks for the food."

"Don't mention it," Monty replied with a smile, he turned and continued to make his way over to the main fire in the center of camp.

She watched as he kept his pace casual as he slunk back to the fire, and flicking a hand out almost faster than she could see. Suddenly, there were two less sticks sitting around the fire. Nobody noticed; everyone too engrossed in their own meals.

Elissa had to shake her head as she speculated. Smooth. Maybe that's why he's here in the first place—sticky fingers finding their way into places where they shouldn't be.

A yawn suddenly overtook her and she realized how long she'd been away from everyone. Charlotte was probably wondering where she went off to. With that in mind, she reached out and grasped the boots she'd tossed away earlier and quickly tugged them onto her feet, tying up the laces.

Pushing herself to her feet, she raised her hands over her head and gave her back a good stretch—an odd feeling of satisfaction flowing through her as her back popped loudly in response.

Elissa wasn't prepared when a hand suddenly clasped over her mouth, a strong arm snaking around her waist. Her heart leapt into her throat, she didn't even have time to inhale—let alone cry out—before he was hauled roughly over the log she'd been leaning against. A muffled yelp let her mouth as her back scraped painfully over the rough bark.

Panic immediately overwhelmed her at the thought of who was pulling her backward into the darkness.

Grounders! Grounders are in camp!

You idiot, why were you sitting so far away from everyone?

Her berating thoughts were cut off as she was violently yanked backward—the arms that had been holding and partially supporting her, gone. Unable to get her feet under her, she fell. But instead of hitting the flat ground like she expected, the surface was much further away.

Tumbling head over heels down a small embankment, Elissa came to an abrupt stop as she hit the bottom. The cobble covered ground knocking the air out of her lungs and she lied there coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to get some air back into her lungs after it had been violently expelled.

"Well, that looked like it hurt."

At the sound of the calm, familiar voice, Elissa slowly turned her head upward.

She wished she could say that she was surprised to find Murphy standing at the edge of the embankment, his self-assured smirk ever plastered on his smug face.

Anger and disbelief flowed through her.

"What are you doing, Murphy?" She snarled at him with a glare, her voice rough.

A mockingly innocent look crossed his features and he pointed at himself. "I'm just here to help. I saw you take that God awful tumble and wanted to make sure you were okay." The nasty smile that crossed his face as he finished talking his belied words, it caused Elissa to feel a flicker of worry flow through her.

Murphy was the wildcard in the group. Something about his demeanor set her on edge. So far, he'd been aggressive and cruel to nearly everyone with Blake seeming to be the only one who could rein him in, although Murphy was reluctant most of the time.

But Blake's not here to call of his attack dog now, is he?

Glancing past him, up the embankment she'd been thrown down, Elissa realized nervously that it did a really good job at secluding them from the rest of the group. Although the closest people couldn't have been further than thirty-feet away, still, she couldn't hear a word they were saying. The only sign that the rest of the group was nearby was the bright glow of the flames shining on the trees above. Murphy'd chosen this spot well.

"I don't think anyone is going to help you this time, Bardot."

Her gaze flickers back to meet his own, the calmness of his comment set her on edge.

Get up.

Rolling herself onto her side, Elissa ignored the pain in her back as she attempted to push herself up, while simultaneously reaching for her knife. When her hand met empty air, panic flared through her when she remembered she'd let her knife on the log.

Idiot.

Murphy was faster than she expected—crossing the space between them in the blink of an eye. Unprepared for the boot that planted itself on her chest, she was forcefully slammed down, the weight pinning her to the ground. Her eyes snapped up in shock. She stared at Murphy who was now looming above her, head tilted as he peered down at her. Lifting a hand, he waved it in front of her face a few ties before she became aware that he was holding her blade in his hand—its sharp end pointed down toward her face.

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head, other hand coming up to wag a finger in her face, as if he were berating a young child. "Can't have you running back to your friends just yet."

Clenching her jaw, she grabbed his boot and ankle with both hands in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on her chest, to which he responded by shifting forward and leaned on the leg that pinned her down. At the increase of weight, she winced and struggled to breath. Each breath was only a shallow gasp; the small amount of air was all her lungs would allow.

Elissa glared up at him sharply. "What do you want?" She managed to gasp out.

Murphy pointed the end of the blade toward her wrist. "Just one thing."

She knew instantly that he was talking about her wristband and she shook her head. "Not going to happen."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "You say that like you have a choice," he drawled and crouched over her. He removed the weight from her chest, leaning down and pressed the sharp edge of the blade to the vulnerable side of her neck. The cool metal dug into her skin slightly.

Freezing, she leaned away as much as she could. The solid ground beneath her gave her no relief.

Shifting, he settled his knees on either side of her, straddling her hips—his weight pinned her down once again and kept her from moving, her own blade held at her neck.

You need to do something, and you need to do it quickly, she thought as her eyes flickered from his face to the knife. You know what he wants. Offer it. Don't let him take it.

A plan slowly began to form in her mind.

Let him think you're weaker than you actually are. Let him underestimate you.

Releasing a shaky breath, she reached up and wrapped her hand around the wrist that held the blade, not needing to fake her shaky grip as she pulled it slightly away from her skin. Her other hand slowly—painstakingly—began to flutter along the surface of the cobbles beside her, looking for something, anything, that she could use in defense.

"Please," she whispered, eyes pleading as she stared up at him, making sure to keep her eyes trained on him.

Murphy gave her an amused look before it faded away. He sighed, leaning over her. "Look, Bardot, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Don't make this nastier than it needs to be. All I want is your wristband." He told her simply.

No fucking way. She snarled to herself, before slowly nodding her head. "O-Okay."

Relaxing her grip from his wrist, she allowed him to grasp her forearm. He examined the metal band which was enclosed around it, her knife moved away from her neck as he did so.

Hand shaking, she slowly tugged at the ground—nails and fingers trying to find purchase as they scraped out a decent sized stone. Murphy seemed completely unaware of her movements, focused solely on her wrist. Relief washed through her when she had the rock securely in hand and her worried expression melted into a dark glare.

"Murphy," she said calmly and when his gaze flickered from her wrist to meet her own, she sneered. "Kindly get the fuck off me." She spat and swung the rock up to smash it into the side of his face.

Elissa's plan didn't work as she expected. She had hoped her attack would render him unconscious, knocking him to the side and away from her, but to no avail. She did get one thing right—his head did snap to one side, but he didn't completely lose his balance. As his hips lifted slightly, she knew she only had a small opportunity to get away. Bucking her own hips upward, she tried to throw him the rest of the way off, while at the same time her hands scrambled for purchase to pull herself out from under him.

But Murphy was too quick to recover.

Elissa was nearly out from underneath him when he resettled his weight down on her legs, across her shins and stopped her from fully getting away. She was completely unprepared when he whirled around, his fist slamming into the side of her face, catching her just below her left eye.

Pain and little white spots exploded in her vision and she fell back with a cry, hands coming up instinctively to protect her face. The coppery tinge of blood filled her mouth and knew that the impact must have gashed the inside of her cheek against her teeth.

Murphy huffed a laugh as he scrambled up her, once again settling on her stomach. His weight made her feel sick as her lungs struggled for oxygen. Once again, her knife was poised at her neck, his empty hand gripped her wrist tightly and the rock she'd struck him with still in hand.

"You little bitch," he spat, bringing up the hand which held the blade to wipe it along his eyebrow—which had been split where she'd hit him, blood streamed out and had run over his eye and down his cheek. "Turns out the Queen is quite the little trickster."

Elissa gripped his wrist once more and she dug her nails into the soft skin there and tried to pry it away. "I'm not letting you have my wristband." She wheezed, glaring up at him before spitting a mouthful of blood to the side.

"You just don't get it, do you." He shook his head. "I'm taking it whether you like it, or not. Bellamy wants all the wristbands. No exceptions."

With that, he forcefully slammed her wrist down on the ground and the shocking burst of pain made her unwillingly drop her only weapon of defense.

A wicked grin crossed her features accompanied by a low chuckle. "What, you his bitch-boy now?"

Murphy's expression darkened and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to hit her again. Then a new voice interrupted them.

"Need a hand there, Murphy?"

Elissa grimaced, feeling her heart sink into her stomach as she recognized the voice of Murphy's sidekick, Mbege.

Murphy glanced up at him momentarily before looking down to give her a menacing smile. She flinched back as he brought the blade up, pressing the tip of it on her cheek.

"Things aren't looking too good for you, Queenie."

Elissa snarled, her mouth full of blood. "Fuck you!"

Murphy motioned for Mbege to come closer. "Hold her wrists, I need to get this thing off."

Mbege quickly complied, kneeling down by her head.

No!

Renewing her struggle to get away, she tried to keep her banded wrist away from his grabbing hands, but with Murphy's weight keeping her down and holding her other wrist tightly, she didn't have much leeway to keep him away. Soon, both her wrists were pinned to the ground.

Panting for breath, she swallowed down a sudden wave of real panic. She couldn't lose her only connection to the Ark. To her father—to her brother.

As Murphy began sliding the blade between her wristband and her skin, she stared up at him pleadingly. "Murphy—Murphy, please don't." She begged, her words hurried. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to follow Blake's every order or do anything for him."

He paused for a second, glancing down at her with a mocking grin. "For him? Hardly." He scoffed. "See, Bellamy may think he's running the show, and he is—for now. But he won't be for long. Things are just convenient. He wants to cut all connections to the Ark. I want to cut all connections as well. He even asked me to help him do it." He shrugged, before digging the blade in further. She let out a cry as it tore across her recently closed scabs, reopening the barely healed wound.

A hand covered her mouth. "Shh, shh, Bardot. You don't want everyone coming to your rescue." Murphy said and turned the blade sideways.

Elissa gave a muffled scream as the sharp metal slid into her wrist. Clenching her eyes shut, she was helpless to the tears that pooled in her eyes with her breathing coming in shuddering gasps. Pulling back his arm, Murphy gave one final wrench.

There was a distinct snap! as the band was forcefully pried open.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Murphy mocked, putting the knife aside to fully remove the band. A whimper escaped her lips as the needles slid painfully out of her already abused arm.

"Murphy!" Came a deep commanding bark, before Murphy was abruptly hauled off of her. Mbege quickly released her arms and scrambled to his feet with a worried look plastered on his face as he stepped away from her.

Taking a shaky breath, her eyes clenched shut causing a few tears to leak out of the corner of her eye, stinging the cut below. Slowly, she turned until she was resting on her side, allowing her to cradle her torn wrist. Her other hand clamped tightly around it, trying to staunch the now steady flow of blood.

"Bellamy! Put me down!"

At the sound of Murphy's protests, she peered her eyes open to see what was happening and a disbelieving scoff escaped her lips at what was unfolding before her.

Blake had Murphy pinned up against a tree, both of his hands fisted in the other boy's shirt. His shoulders were tense, his entire posture rigid; he was clearly not happy. His glare zeroed in on Murphy's face and Murphy held tightly onto Blake's wrists.

"What do you think you're doing?" Blake demanded calmly, coldly.

"Bellamy," Murphy welcomed, then winced as Blake's knuckles dug into his collarbones.

"What do you think you're doing?" Blake repeated, his gaze steel as he stared at Murphy.

"Just doing what you asked, man—getting all the wristbands." Murphy said simply, rolling his neck.

When Blake's dark eyes flickered down to meet her own, she immediately turned her head away with her teeth clenched. She didn't want to know what she would see in his gaze. She didn't know if she would see approval, judgement, or pity. None were emotions she wanted to see right now. Turning away, she focused instead of getting to her knees, so she could wrap her wrist in something—anything—that would stop the bleeding.

"You're an idiot, Murphy," Blake snapped. "We can't go around beating the shit out of everyone. It's one thing to go after Wells, but if we keep going after Clarke's crew, people will start talking."

Murphy scowled. "Who fucking cares what they think? I wouldn't have done this if you had just let Queenie here fall to her death."

Elissa felt Blake's eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Blake glowered at him and cocked his head to one side, a dark smirk crossing his lips. "Are you questioning me, Murphy? Let's make something very clear." Blake said, stepping back toward him and staring down at the slightly shorter boy. "When I tell you to do something, you do it when I want you to. Not when you see fit. You want to stay in this camp, be part of this group? You do what I say."

Murphy sneered, glaring back at him challengingly. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Try me." Blake snapped, voice cool.

The silence that followed was tense, neither of them willing to stand down.

"Fine," Murphy finally spat, throwing Elissa's wristband at Blake, who caught it one handed, looking down at the bloodied metal. Without another word, Murphy stormed by them, storming up the embankment and out of sight and Mbege quickly followed suit, disappearing over the edge.

Shakily pushing herself to her feet, Elissa ignored Blake who stood quietly at her back. She could feel his eyes and knew he was waiting for her to say something. Running her tongue across her teeth, she spat to the side, trying to remove the metallic tang from her mouth. She held her wrist tightly and took a shaky breath before turning and kept her gaze down. She intended to move passed Blake and head up to the dropship, knowing that she would need Clarke's help to wrap her wrist.

As she moved around him, he reached out and grabbed her bicep, his grip surprisingly gentle.

"Bardot..." He began, voice much softer than she'd ever heard him sound. It lacked all of the arrogance, the aggressiveness his voice usually held. Instead he sounded...concerned.

Irrational rage surged through her at the thought.

He feels guilty now. He's only treating you nicely because he now has the one thing he wanted from you, her mind whispered darkly.

"Don't touch me!" Elissa snarled up at him, whirling to meet his eyes with a hard glare.

He was quick to release her arm, raising both his hands in surrender, showing he meant no harm. His gaze was different than she'd ever seen before.

How dare he? This is all his fault. Him and his fucking need to cut off the Ark.

"Are you happy now, Blake?" She spat at him, glancing down at the wristband he still held in his hand and his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You got exactly what you wanted. Now leave me alone."

Even as she glared at him, her eyes were suddenly filled with tears, and she turned away, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

Blake didn't seem to know how to respond, but when he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke instead.

"Let me make something clear between us. Don't touch me, don't talk to me. I'm not your fucking damsel in distress, I don't need your help."

Blake took a step away from her, arms dropping to his sides and his expression closed off. His eyes darkened as he stared down at her.

After a long moment, he nodded. "As you wish," he said, voice tight and controlled.

Then he turned and walked away.

Something about his tone made her pause and as she watched him stalk up the embankment and disappear out of sight, she couldn't help the nervous jitters than arose in her stomach.

All she knew is that all of a sudden, she felt completely and utterly alone.

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not edited

it's literally only episode two and murphy has already taken elissa's wristband...it happened sooner than you guys expected, huh? at least she didn't go down without a fight and there came bellamy (in all his glory) coming to rescue her, but just a little too late.

question: should i work on publishing the GROUNDER!OC x BELLAMY fic i've had in my drafts for a million years?

let me know in the comments! xx