• •

CHAPTER EIGHT;

NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

• •

"IT'S ALL CLEAR!"

As the first light of dawn seeped into the cave, the trio stirred from their slumber. Bellamy was the earliest riser, his senses sharpened by habit, followed by Charlotte shortly after. Haven, however, struggled to open her eyes. Every muscle in her body felt abused, her shoulder in particular throbbing from inflammation. Surprisingly, she had been the last to wake up. Even more surprisingly than that– she didn't have a single nightmare.

        Weird.

        Bellamy insisted on being the first one out of the cave– naturally. He was already on his feet and peering from it's mouth by the time Haven forced herself to rise and join him. Charlotte observed hesitantly from an arm's-length behind Bellamy, the enormity of his body compared to hers acting as a natural shield in itself.

        "Anybody out here?" Bellamy shouted into the quiet, anxiously seeking any signs of life or response from the desolate landscape. All traces of the fog had cleared by now, as if it ceased to exist in the first place. "Jones?"

        "We're here!"

The group swiftly snapped their heads in the direction of the voice, who Haven quickly recognized was Jones. He was alive. Alive. Alive. Relief was an all-encompassing flood as she charged past Bellamy and straight toward the figures approaching in the distance. Charlotte, on the otherhand, stood still. It wasn't until Bellamy gave her a reassuring nod that she mustered the courage to move forward.

Bellamy caught up to Haven within mere strides, coming to a halt alongside her as the rest of the hunting group reconvened. Everybody appeared as if they'd crawled through the pits of hell; clothes were crumpled and dirty, eyes weary and skin ashen. Surviving the night outside of camp seemingly left a mark on all of them.

        Yet, as they found each other, even in their disheveled state– a spark of relief rippled among them. The burden of the night seemed to lessen as they reunited, their shoulders slackening ever so slightly. Dread was still present, a looming presence Haven didn't anticipate would ever fully fade. But for a moment, just for a moment– it felt lighter. Softer. More bearable from simple act of coming together.

Bellamy was the first to speak. "Lost in the stew. Where'd you go?"

"Made it to a cave down there." Jones gestured backwards with the spear he clutched tightly in his palms. "The hell was that?"

        "I don't know." Bellamy shook his head, lips settling into a grim line. The Blake boy didn't like a problem he couldn't solve– radioactive fog now earning the spot at the top of his list. "Haven thinks it's radiation."

        At that, Jones erupted in playful laughter. "She can predict the weather now?" He quipped, inadvertently gesturing towards Haven with his spear, causing her to step back in horror– because what the fuck? Luckily for him, he recognized his error and was quick to retract the weapon. He then offered Haven a sheepish grin. "Half vampire, half scientist. Sick."

        "Sounds like a shitty halloween costume."

        "Shut up." Bellamy's voice was calm, meticulously collected, yet bared an edge akin to a razor blade. He silenced John Mbege, the boy behind Jones, with a rapidity that allowed Haven no chance to speak. Long gone was the glimmer of tenderness Bellamy revealed in the cave; King of the Earth reigned gloriously in his eclipse.

        Haven rolled her eyes. "Some of us actually paid attention in Earth Skills." Pike hadn't mentioned jack shit about acid fog, but the boys clearly wouldn't have known that. "You two were too busy drawing dicks on the wall with Murphy."

        "Ouch!" Jones winced. He appreciated Haven's understanding that the teenage boys meant no harm– unlike Bellamy. "Careful now. I'll have you know, they were wordly, refined, state of the art depictions of genitalia–"

        "Where's Atom?"

Bellamy's question sliced through the air like a sharp, jarring note of doom. Haven was jolted into realization while she had been drawn into a trivial conversation with Jones, Bellamy must've conducted a headcount. All at once, their flicker of sweet relief was snuffed out; dread returned with the force of a thousand armies.

Jones wore a worried frown. "I thought he was with you guys."

"No." Haven shook her head, shoving aside the siege of panic marching in her chest. "Is there any other caves you passed by?"

Jones nodded– a signal of hope.

"Okay, okay. Fuck. Let's start there. Maybe he's holed up in one of them." Haven's knuckles cracked at her sides as she squared her shoulders to address the group. Her voice, while tinged with urgency, remained unwavering. She hadn't exactly meant to verbalize her thoughts aloud, it just kind of... happened.

The group found themselves in a momentary standstill, uncertain glances passing between Haven and Bellamy as they sought his approval to act upon her suggestion.

        "You heard her." Bellamy declared, jaw hardened. His words carried the weight of irrefutable authority; if there were any doubts about his order– it sure as hell didn't show. "Move out and stay close."

The command spurred the group into action with swift diligence. Together, they mobilized, their apprehension countered by the clear direction of their mission. Jones assumed the lead, brandishing his spear with authority. To Haven's surprise, Charlotte marched beside him, wielding her janky knife from Bellamy with a newfound fearlessness.

Weird– again.

        Haven quietly fell into step beside Bellamy at the back of the pack. Neither of them had locked eyes yet, not since the admission of Atom's disappearance. The blood-curdling echo of his cries hovered like a malevolent spirit that refused to let go– they both heard him scream their names.

They both knew what it meant.

"Maybe we can find him." Haven started, her words tentative, almost as if she were testing the idea herself. Perhaps the respite of a night's sleep had shifted her perspective or, perhaps– she was allowing herself a moment of delusion. "I mean, you found Charlotte and I."

"I doubt it. That was pure luck." Bellamy's response was eerily cold, harrowingly detached. Devoid of all traces of warmth that once existed within it. Not once did he meet her eyes as they continued their trek, his vision stayed glued to the terrain of rock alongside them.

"I guess." Haven sighed, painfully aware of Bellamy's emotional withdrawal. She couldn't blame him, nor did she want to burden him with a hope she scarcely held onto herself. So, instead, she shifted gears. "Also– about yesterday. You shoved us way too hard. Nearly broke my spine on the rocks."

Bellamy wrinkled his brows, voice gruff. "What are you talking about?"

A palpable pause stretched between them. Haven suddenly wondered if she's said the wrong thing, but she continued on regardless. "Um... when you pushed me into the cave." Her eyes glanced ahead to Charlotte. "Us, into the cave."

"I was out in the fog trying to find you guys up until it forced me in. I had no choice. When I opened my eyes, both of you were already there." Bellamy explained, his bronze complexion riddled with muted panic as he finally met her gaze. "I didn't–" He shook his head earnestly. "I didn't push you in."

Something misgiving clutched Haven by the throat, leaching every ounce of color from her face as she stood paralyzed. She knew what she saw. She knew what she felt. The memory of the strong, fearsome hands – unmistakably human – emerging from the citron haze, their icy grip on her shoulders, and the forceful shove into the cave. It was real. An undeniable, unshakable truth. But if it wasn't Bellamy...

She could hardly form the words. "Then who the hell did?"

A sudden shriek ripped through the trees.

        There was no time to ponder the mystery as she locked eyes with Bellamy, the movement in itself wordlessly conveying GO, GO, GO. Without a moment's hesitation, they launched into a sprint, their footfalls resounding through the undergrowth as they followed the path of Charlotte's unmistakable cries.

Bellamy abruptly halted as he reached the young girl, his protective arm encircling her trembling shoulders. Haven, coming to a stop just behind him, strained to see what had captured his attention. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, his gaze latched onto something hidden from Haven's view. "Atom!"

        And then she saw him. There, at the bottom of the ditch, lay Atom – or rather what was left of him. The boy was splayed on his back, his clothes stained a horrific shade of red, his flesh marred by repulsive, inflamed welts that seemed to writhe and bubble in agony. Haven's heart clenched at the sheer effort it took for him to force out a breath.

It was as if her body moved of its own volition, descending the slope into the ditch. She was driven by an invisible force compelling her towards the boy lying there, just as she was tethered to the other boy who knelt at his side. Haven crouched to her knees beside Bellamy and shoved away the nausea she felt at the effigy in front of her.

The grotesqueness of Atom's wounds became even more horrifying up close. With each labored exhalation, his lips were painted a vivid crimson, a stark and gruesome herald of his inevitable demise. But it was his eyes that spoke volumes about the horrors he had faced. Once a brilliant shade of blue, they were now clouded with a thick, impenetrable fog, rendering them eerily milky and devoid of life, as though they were portals to an abyss. The acid fog had wrought unspeakable destruction; it swallowed him whole, absorbing all traces of his mortality and abandoning him to dirt.

"Atom..." Haven could not stand the way her voice cracked as she spoke. This wasn't about her– it was about him. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes and slowly reached out a trembling hand to his own, cautious not to inflict any further pain. "You're– you're okay. You're okay."

Bellamy's presence beside Haven was that of a ghost, a hollow shell. The remnants of his strength and vigor had been entirely extinguished, leaving behind the shattered reflection of a boy. A boy– that's all he was. Not a leader. Not a protector; a young boy haunted by the inexorable approach of tragedy, aching to save his friend but uncertain of how to do so.

"Kill me."

Atom's voice was barely a whisper, his movements so faint that both Haven and Bellamy leaned in close to hear him.

"Kill me."

        The weight of Atom's plea bore down on Haven and threatened to crumble her resolve. Her gaze instinctively sought out Bellamy, her eyes pleading for guidance, but all she was met with was stone. Bellamy stood silently, his unwavering stare fixed upon Atom's tortured form on the ground, and on Haven shivering beside him.

        "K-kill me. Please."

        A strange glitch seemed to occur within Bellamy, a momentary disorientation as he grappled with the inexorable futility of their circumstances. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Atom, nor could he ignore the way Haven's fingers clung to his hand. As if in silent recognition that there was nothing more they could do– nothing, nothing, nothing. It was a moment of stupid acceptance, a poignant acknowledgment of their helplessness and their inability to prevent the impending loss. Atom's life slipped through their fingers like sand.

        "I– can't–breathe."

        A rustle of leaves drew their attention away from Atom's suffering. Between blinks of blurred vision, Haven discerned the small silhouette of Charlotte. She watched as the young girl hauntingly slipped a knife – Bellamy's knife – back into his grasp. "Don't be afraid." she whispered, echoing his earlier sentiment from the cave.

"Go back to camp." Bellamy's demeanor shifted as he donned his unflinching mask once more, addressing the members of their hunting group scattered among the trees. He turned to Charlotte first and then to Haven, the knife still firmly clutched in his hands. "Same for you two." He tilted his head towards the forest. "Head out."

Haven watched as Charlotte hesitantly followed the rest of the group's retreat before shaking her head in defiance. Although it wavered, her voice was slick with steely determination. "I'm not leaving."

"I didn't ask. Go."

"I'm not one of your dogs. And I'm not– I'm not leaving you." Haven could hardly register her own words as she stared at Bellamy with the force of the galaxies themselves. Her gaze lingered on the knife in his palms. His fingers. His hands... they were shaking. Burdened with the weight of an impossible decision, battling with the pained reluctance to do what was begged of him. Atom's sputtering breaths drew her attention back to their dying friend, a heart-wrenching reality she couldn't abandon. Her voice was a broken whisper. "Either of you."

        "Jesus, Haven. Can't you just listen? I don't..." Bellamy's voice trailed off, tired eyes locking with hers, a silent plea conveyed between them. I don't want you to see this. He winced as he observed the gentleness, the tenderness with which Haven held Atom's hand. After a tense moment, he relented. "Fine."

        And then he was sinking into the dirt beside her. His gaze remained fixed on Atom, who seemed to be slowly surrendering the very life inside of him down to the earth below; a silent, mournful theft. Like it was being stolen from him.

In a way, it was.

        "Bellamy– please."

Bellamy's breaths were slow and measured, his knuckles white from the tight grip on the blade. He held it close – devastatingly close above the disfigured skin of Atom's neck. Atom ever-so-slightly shifted his head in anticipation; as if he were seeking, begging, pleading for Bellamy to thrust the blade into his throat and end his suffering for good. Yet, Bellamy couldn't summon the strength to do it. He tried, but he was no killer—not even for the sake of mercy. He was a boy. Just a boy.

        "CLARKE! THEY'RE OVER HERE!"

        Haven and Bellamy snapped their heads to the crest of the ditch, hearts leaden as they immediately recognized Wells's tall figure in the distance. Finn and Clarke appeared seconds after. There was a heartbeat of relief at the sight of her friends, the knowledge that they had survived the night's perils. However, that relief was short-lived as Clarke hurriedly descended the slope, dropping to her knees beside the stricken pair to assess the situation. Wells and Finn remained rooted in place, their faces etched with dread upon witnessing the tragedy before them.

        Clarke's eyes frantically scanned Atom's wounds, out of breath and panicked. "We heard screams."

        "Charlotte found him. I–I sent her back to camp."  Bellamy replied, his gaze worriedly shifting between Atom and Clarke. Both boys were growing paler with each passing moment. He raised his eyes to Clarke, silently seeking confirmation, and his jaw tightened as she shook her head in a painful answer.

        Atom was dying.

        And there was nothing that Clarke, or anybody else could do to save him.

        At that moment, Haven yearned to crawl out of her skin and seek refuge within someone else's, to escape the guilt, the crushing weight of responsibility, and the looming specter of death that permeated every fiber of her being. Her heart contorted, convulsed, and rebelled beneath her ribs as she swore she could feel Atom's fingers, frail and fading, tightening around her own.

"Okay," Clarke whispered to Atom, her smile forced as she shifted closer, gently stroking the boy's hair in a soothing gesture. "I'm gonna help you, all right?"

And then, she found herself humming, a sweet yet achingly sorrowful melody that filled the air. It was a pitiful attempt to offer Atom some semblance of solace, or perhaps a feeble distraction as Clarke took the knife from Bellamy's motionless hand. He offered no resistance to the blonde's actions. Hell, he could hardly even see her. He sat drowning in an abyss of silent guilt, unable to keep his head above the surface.

        The words incinerated the back of Clarke's throat and fell from her lips like fallen ash. "May we meet again."

        Haven's vision was clouded by a torrent of silent tears, rendering her surroundings a blur. She refused to let herself sob. Not yet. She couldn't bare to face Bellamy or Clarke either; none of them had the strength to look at each other. But what she could feel, what she couldn't escape, was Atom's pleading gaze; the way his eyes dimmed, all traces of light gone the moment Clarke delicately plunged the blade into his jugular.

Blood spilled into the dirt beneath him. It merged with the earth in a macabre union, covering Clarke's trembling fingers in a river of crimson– another unwelcome trace of DNA that wasn't hers. There was nothing beautiful about it, nothing symbolic. No relief, no satisfaction. It was all just red– ugly, gruesome red.

The grip Atom held on Haven's hand loosened at last.

• •

"HEY EVERYONE– THEY'RE BACK!"

The camp the hundred had constructed at the dropship was a hub of frenetic activity. Delinquents moved about the perimeter, diligently assembling logs of wood and pieces of scrap metal to continue the work Wells had initiated days ago. Amid the organized chaos, Monroe and Fox, two young girls familiar to Haven from Mecha Station, cleared an opening in the wall, a gateway for the hunting group to re-enter their temporary sanctuary.

Haven's memories of the group's return to camp were a blur, a haze of exhaustion and grief. It had been light outside when she last raised her head, but now darkness enveloped them, shrouding even the stars from view. She moved with a mechanical, trance-like quality, as if in a daze, walking in a numb procession between Clarke and Finn.

"We've gotta get to Jasper." Clarke turned to Finn as they entered through the gap of tree trunks. "I'll need boiled water to make the medicine." Finn nodded in acknowledgment before they split off toward the dropship, leaving Haven alongside Bellamy, Wells, and... Atom.

       The two men moved in synchronized silence as they bore Atom's limp form through the clearing. They had fashioned a makeshift stretcher from logs that Bellamy had skillfully cut with his axe. Atom's body lay covered beneath a jacket, concealing him from the prying eyes of those they encountered along the way.

Bellamy's voice resounded with authority from behind Haven, his gaze fixed on a delinquent approaching him, as though she awaited a directive. "Get Clarke whatever she needs." he commanded, the shift in his demeanor toward the Griffin girl unmistakable in his tone.

"I better go get this grave dug." Wells slowly settled the stretcher atop a patch of grass, eyes shifting between Bellamy and Haven. Bellamy offered him a solemn nod, to which Wells reciprocated with one of his own. He offered a gentle touch to Haven's shoulder before venturing off into the crowd.

A memory consumed her, at that. Aside from the blood, Haven could vividly recall the way she rose from the ground beside Atom's lifeless body. Then the way she stumbled toward the trees, her strength failing her– until she crumbled into the embrace of Wells and Finn, where she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

"Hey— what gives, Haven?"

Haven glanced up from her boots in the dirt at the sound of Orion's voice. She flew towards the Smith girl in a storm, worry riddling her ebony features. "Where the fuck did you go? I ran to your tent as soon as I saw the fog roll in and you were gone."

Something thawed within Haven's chest as Orion glared at her expectantly– awaiting some form of an explanation. She didn't quite know whether Orion's irritation was the result of severe FOMO or heartfelt concern. But before Haven could part her lips to speak, Orion was barreling into her with a tight embrace.

They stood there, for a moment. Orion's chest still rose and fell in angered breaths while Haven remained frozen like a statue. But then, something gave way. Haven gradually relaxed, allowing herself to lean into Orion's unexpected embrace and closing her eyes with the comfort it brought. A fleeting moment of solace in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry." Haven whispered into the crook of Orion's neck. "I– I didn't mean to scare you. I went for a walk, then I found the hunting group, then the fog, and then–"

"No. I'm sorry– I just... I got nervous, or whatever." Orion softly pulled away from the hug and met Haven's eyes with a newfound sense of calm. "Ended up on the third floor with Monty and Octavia in the dropship. I did a headcount, too. Everybody got inside safe. Le serpent aussi (the snake did too), unfortunately."

Haven quickly understood who Orion was referring to. "Murphy? The hell did he do now?"

"He tried to kill Jasper– that's what." Octavia Blake rushed out of the dropship entrance with an electric speed. She halted beside Orion and Haven; chest heaving from obvious stress, eyes scanning the surroundings with unease. She caught a glimpse of Clarke's blonde head in the distance and beckoned her over. "Did you get the medicine?"

"Yeah. I–I got it." Clarke nodded her head in answer before quicking extending an arm across Octavia's front, a pitiful attempt to subtly guide her back inside. "Come on, let's go talk."

Octavia was having none of it – just as Haven suspected. Octavia's expression was muddled with confusion as she caught sight of Bellamy from behind Clarke's shoulder and deftly wriggled out of her grip. She moved toward him urgently, Haven and Orion hot on her heels, jogging with a gnawing sense of dread that left her heart in a spin-cycle.

        "Octavia." Bellamy's voice softened at the sight of his sister and his sunken face paled. Relief at Octavia's survival of the fog flooded his features, yet an undercurrent of sorrow lingered as he shielded her from the dead body behind him. "J–Just stay there. Please, stay back." His voice cracked as she pushed through the useless hand he held on her shoulder. "Please."

        "Bell– stop!" Octavia hissed, her impulsive anger melting into solemn silence as she forcefully pushed Bellamy aside, determined to see for herself. She froze as her eyes settled upon the stretcher on the ground. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she dropped to her knees, extending a shaky hand to unveil the person hidden beneath the concealing jacket.

         Haven averted her eyes as the Blake girl breathed the name in a dismal plea. "Atom."

        Gasps erupted among the forming crowd as Octavia revealed the Atom's body beneath the jacket. Members of the hundred exchanged glances stricken with a mixture of horror and bewilderment. Some among them instinctively moved away from Atom's body, while others edged closer to get a better view of the grim scene. Morbid curiosity was a strange, strange thing.

"Fuck." Orion whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Bellamy brokenly tried to amend things with his sister, desperate to find the right words to provide an explanation or even some stupid semblance of comfort. "There's nothing I could do–"

"Don't." Octavia's voice quivered with a sharp and pained intensity as she vehemently held up a hand to silence Bellamy. Tear-stained eyes fixed on her fallen friend, hands unsteady, she carefully covered Atom's body with the jacket once more.

        "O, O– please."

"Don't." Octavia repeated, rising to her feet and stomping past Bellamy with pure and utter disdain.

Bellamy stood paralyzed under the weight of her actions, his feet rooted in the ground as if the very earth held him there. Like a damn hostage. He watched Octavia retreat into the dropship with stinging eyes, yearning to go after her, to mend what was broken, to take away her pain and bear it all himself.

        But he couldn't. He had spent a lifetime protecting his sister, shielding her from existence entirely. It wasn't a duty, nor a chore– it was an instinct as innate as breathing. Something he never thought twice about because there was no need to; his life began the day she was born. How could he ever possibly withstand the wreckage of disappointing her– his sole purpose of existence, his only reason to live?

        "I'll talk to her." 

        The sound of Haven's words tore Bellamy from the rubble of his mind. He pried his gaze away from the dropship and instead turned to the girl standing beside him, big brown eyes cleaving into him with a familiarity only she could understand. He didn't know how long she'd been waiting there, but if he knew Haven as well as he thought he did– she was bound to have heard everything.

        Haven dared another step closer. "It's not..." She shook her head, struggling to find the right words. "This isn't your fault. Not this, never this. You did your best."

        Bellamy knew it was a lie. His gaze flitted to the blood staining his jacket, to the trauma absorbed within Haven's delicate features, and ultimately to the dead body beneath their very feet. It felt almost comical to imply that he bore no responsibility. The crack in his voice betrayed his anguish as he posed the question, a raw admission of his own self-doubt. "Did I?"

        "Bellamy."

        The way she lulled his name was almost enough to make him believe it, her words a balm to the fresh wounds carved deep into Bellamy's soul. For a fleeting moment, he longed to close his eyes. To remember the way it sounded. To memorize the way it felt.

        "Well, well, well. Look who we have here!"

        Almost.

        "Murphy." Bellamy gruffly cleared his throat, attempting to swallow the lump that had lodged itself between his lungs and his chest. With a cautious step, he positioned himself in front of Haven as the boy approached their spot in the crowd.

        "Welp. That's my cue. I'm out." Orion announced. She exchanged a knowing nod with Haven before making her way towards the dropship. "Adieu (farewell), Hav," she said in parting. To Bellamy's surprise, she also cast a nod in his direction. "You too, Blakey boy."

        Murphy flung his arms into the air as he called out to Orion. "The fuck? What about me?" Orion, undeterred, delivered her response with a sardonic flourish: the graceful solute of a poised middle finger. "Uh– harsh. But okay." Murphy grumbled, scratching his head in mild confusion. "Whatever the hell that means."

        Bellamy, undistracted by the banter, pressed forward with a far more serious inquiry, "Lose anyone here?"

        "Nah."

        "Jasper?"

Haven stiffened involuntarily. Not that she had forgotten hadn't about the condition of her friend, far from it. Now, the mention of his name only filled her with an inescapable sense of dread.

"Still breathing– barely." Murphy blew out an agitated breath. "I tried to take him out, but your psycho little sister–"

Not a heartbeat had passed before Bellamy's stoic composure transformed into something far more ominous. His eyes blazed with an intensity that made the stars appear dull as lunged for Murphy's shoulders, violently propelling him backward with a strength that seemed almost supernatural. Haven swiftly backpedaled, her eyes widening in sheer astonishment as Bellamy's hands shot towards Murphy's throat, his grip exuding a bone-chilling aura of menace.

Murphy choked out a feeble note of defense. "Bellamy–"

"My WHAT?" Bellamy was deathly close to Murphy's face as he pressed even closer, the grip on his collar tightening with explosive outrage. "MY WHAT?"

       "Your little sister." Murphy muttered the words utterly monotone, correcting himself almost against his will. He stared straight into the abyss of Bellamy's gaze before summoning every ounce of his strength to shove Bellamy's hands off of him.

        As though he were defying the sheer force of the devil himself.

        "Yeah, that's right. My little sister." Bellamy seethed. Haven swore he was nearly foaming at the mouth from the amount of rage simmering within him. His breaths were hot and ragged as he clenched his jaw. "Got anything else you want to say about her?"

        "Nothing." Murphy replied flatly. "Sorry."

To hear John Murphy utter an apology was a rare sight Haven thought she'd never see. Both she and Bellamy knew it was likely insincere, but for now, there was no point in pushing further. Perhaps they'd muster the strength for it tomorrow. Today had been miserable enough already.

Bellamy broke his death stare at that, abruptly aware of the crowd of onlookers that had gathered. Capitalizing on their presence, he shifted his attention to a group of boys to his right. "Get him out of here." he commanded, his words searing like magma as he gestured toward Atom's stretcher.

        Murphy was the first to slink away, perhaps sensing that it was wiser to stay out of Bellamy's path. Bellamy stormed off in the opposite direction, his head buried in his hands as he headed toward the treeline. Haven hesitated for a moment, fearing that her presence might exacerbate the situation. She recognized the importance of giving him room to breathe after a day like this.

With that understanding, she pivoted on her heels, retracing her steps back to the dropship, and headed straight toward the person she knew shouldn't be left alone:

        Octavia.

• •

        "IF YOU'RE HERE TO LECTURE ME–  GO TOUCH SOME GRASS."

        Haven was halfway through the first hatch of the dropship when Octavia's piercing gaze landed upon her. She halted midstep, debating whether or not she should crawl back down the ladder in... fear? Octavia's eyes bore an intensity similar to her brother's– crushingly observant, lethal enough to crucify.

        "You don't have to tell me twice." Haven answered, mustering up the courage to continue her ascent toward the second floor. She emerged through the hatch and found herself face to face with the seventeen-year-old, their eyes locking in a silent exchange. "I'm not here to lecture you."

        "Really?" Octavia shot her a disbelieving glance, dark eyebrows arching in assessment. "You sure Bell didn't send you up here?"

        Haven softened in the slightest as she recognized Octavia's skepticism. "I don't take orders from him. I just wanted to see if you were good– really."

        Octavia scoffed. "Do I look good?"

         It was a surreal feeling for Haven to see the girl she'd heard so much about up close, to feel the same rawness from her that Bellamy had always spoken of. They both shared sharp jawlines and dark hair, but the differences between them were equally striking. If Bellamy was fire, Octavia was ice. A paradoxical contrast. A mirror reflecting a stark duality. Maybe that's what a sibling was supposed to be.

        Haven tilted her head. "No. You look like shit."

        "Oh my god– finally." A bubble of laughter erupted from Octavia, echoes emanating from the dropship's chambers in it's wake. The release of mirth was a stark contrast to the day's tension. "I needed something honest."

        "Mhmm. Your turn now." Haven slowly settled against the metal wall beside Octavia, maintaining a comfortable yet respectful proximity. Their shoulders nearly touched as Haven encouraged her to speak. "Tell me a truth."

"Where do I start?" Octavia blew out a long breath, tilting her head upwards until it rested against the wall. She began to count on her fingers. "One: Bellamy's a fucking asshole. Two: Earth is beautiful, but it also kinda sucks. Three: I literally think I slept better in the god damn Skybox–"

"Let's just start with the first one." Haven suggested. "You're not wrong."

Octavia bit down on her lip and trained her gaze to her boots. "He got in the way of what I have–" She paused, ignoring the knife twisting through her chest before she corrected herself. "Had, with... Atom."

Haven offered her a thoughtful glance; a silent signal to continue.

Octavia shook her head. "I don't know. It was stupid, really. I've–I've never had a real crush before. And I've definitely never been anybody's crush either, considering I've been fucking invisible." Her sapphire eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she yearned to articulate her thoughts. "But... he looked at me like he saw me. Like I was more than just the nutcase under the floor, or something. He even kissed me. And now he's just..."

Sometimes, the only way Haven remembered she had a heart was solely because she could feel it break, over and over and over again; shattering into tiny shards of glass stained with blood and scar tissue. Her empathy for Octavia ran deep, a profound understanding of the girl's sense of loss and the girlhood she was cruelly robbed of.

"Yeah." Haven fought the memory of Atom's milky eyes pleading into her own. For death, for peace. "I know."

"Yeah. And I don't blame Bellamy for his death– I really don't." Octavia admitted, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. Holding Haven's gaze felt nearly impossible. "It's just easier to be mad at him, I guess."

"You have your reasons for feeling upset with him. He shouldn't have gotten in the way of it– doesn't matter what his intentions were." Haven casually shifted her sights to the ceiling, allowing Octavia a moment of privacy. "You deserve to experience these things for the first time ever without your big brother ruining it."

"You aren't gonna plead his case?"

Haven shook her head. "Hell no. I know him well enough to get that he only ever wants to protect you. You already know that." Octavia nodded in understanding. "But at the end of the day, you exist outside of just being his sister. You're your own person. Deep down, he knows that too. I think after everything that's happened, he's just scared to lose you. Again. In any capacity."

"I know." Octavia released a heavy sigh; still burdened with grief, yet feeling the slightest bit lighter. She nudged Haven's shoulder with her own. "You're a lot cooler than he told me."

        Haven raised a brow. "Oh yeah? What else did he say?"

        "You kept our secret."

        "Of course I did." She would've for eternity.

        "You're also, like, smoking hot." 

        Haven's snort of amusement sparked Octavia's laughter, and soon they found themselves both laughing uncontrollably. The mellifluous sound resonated through the confines of the dropship, forging a harmonious union of breaths until tears formed at the corners of their eyes. It was a welcome release, a necessary moment of joy for their troubled hearts. What a gift it was to laugh in the face of death– to laugh with somebody who understood.

The thud of footsteps ambling from the third floor slowly pulled them from their delirium-induced trance. Octavia briefly looked up, rising to her feet and extending Haven a welcoming hand. "Let's check on Jasper."

Haven took her hand with the faintest of smiles before following behind the Blake girl. Together, made their way up the ladder to the third level; dread was still present, but no longer all-consuming.

"Smooth." Monty Green sat slouched against the wall upon the girls' arrival, clutching a well-aged bottle tightly in his grasp. He hiccuped as he noticed their prescence, immediately offering the bottle to Octavia. He knew Haven wouldn't want any. "You want some?"

Octavia moved with a sense of purpose as she accepted the liquor, her determination abundantly visible in her steps. She seized the bottle from Monty's grasp before lowering herself to the floor alongside him, taking a hefty swig and emitting a distinct groan at the taste. "Disgusting. Love it."

Haven gaped. "There's no way you guys actually found alcohol."

"You can thank me." Finn announced, raising a hand in acknowledgment. He leaned against the wall opposite Haven, exhaustion evident in the weariness of his eyes and the slight crook of his smile. "Found it in an old automobile. It's good shit, too– definitely over a hundred years old."

"Can I, uh, get a hit of that?"

        Time seemed to stand still, at that. Haven's heart soared, and for a brief moment, she questioned if she had hallucinated the sound of his voice. She frantically whipped her head around, searching for the source of the unexpected utterance, brown eyes wide with a medley of faith and blind hope.

"Jasper!"

Jasper Jordan hardly had time to lift his head before he was enveloped by the group of teenagers. They bounded toward him with an almost inhuman speed, Monty and Haven at his left, Finn and Octavia to his right; each of them glowing in the sheer relief that he was alive.

"Let's start with the soft stuff." Finn teased, his voice lighthearted as he smoothly replaced the bottle of liquor with a makeshift water jug. He carefully guided it to Jasper's lips, smiling as the Jordan boy gulped it down gratefully. "Welcome back, buddy."

Jasper smiled. "Was that a dream or did I get speared?"

       His voice was frail yet filled with life. His skin glistened with sweat, and his fragile body trembled from the exertion of mere conversation. But he was alive, conscious, and happy. Most notably, he had enough strength within him to crack a stupid joke, a telltale sign that the boy was gradually returning to his usual self. The group around him couldn't help but laugh and breathe a collective sigh of relief at his recovery.

        Clarke suddenly entered through the hatch, catching air of Jasper's question. There was no denying the grin that stretched from ear to ear and she knelt at his bedside. "You'll have a very impressive scar to prove it."

        Jasper glanced at her thoughtfully. "My savior!"

        "Thank you for not dying." Clarke tenderly ran her fingers through the boy's damp hair, stopping herself as she recalled that she had done the same for Atom in the woods. "I don't think I could've taken that today."

"I'll try not to die tomorrow, too, if that's cool." Jasper replied, offering a feeble but determined smile. Gradually, he mustered the strength to turn his head, blinking as he finally recognized the girl seated beside him. His eyes lit up with a childlike glee. "Hav! My girl!"

"Hi, dork." Haven felt a warmth in her chest she hadn't known could exist until this very moment. Jasper extended shaky hands to both her and Monty; they each clung on to him as though fearing he might suddenly vanish beneath their fingers. "I knew you'd make it."

"Took a page out of your book." Jasper stared at her with the fondness only a brother could replicate. "The girl who lived."

There weren't enough words in existence to describe the depth of Haven's gratitude. Jasper teased Haven more than anybody else ever had. He poked her. Prodded her. Pushed all of her buttons until she swore she could sock him in clean in the face. But not once had he uttered the name Vampira– not once had he subjected her to the cruelty associated with her own damn myth. Haven was not a vampire to him. She was anything but that. She was simply just a girl, a girl who survived the impossible. Above all else–

A girl who missed her friend.

There was a distant squeal of metal as the hatch opened once more, revealing a head of signature jet-black curls. Orion paused, basking in the joyous faces of the teenagers huddled together around the Jordan boy, As if trying to commit the moment to memory. Then– she broke into a shining, awe-struck smile.

"Who the hell started the party without me?"

• •

awwwhhhhhh how dare this chapter end so happily when the next chapter will be HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

thank you so much for reading <3