❝that smile could end wars and cure cancer.❞

-john green, author

♛

RAVEN SETS A BAG onto an old, decaying tree stump that looks like it's going to split under the weight of the gigantic black sack. The sound makes a satisfying thunk on the wood when she puts it down.

"Scored you a couple extra clips," she says to Bellamy and I with an accomplished smirk.

"Thank you, Raven." I send her a soft smile. Without her, we would have had to make this journey empty-handed. Clarke had suggested I steal some rifles, but with Major Byrne watching our every move, I know I'd have to have someone else I could trust do it for me. That person is Raven.

"Hey," Clarke says a little breathlessly, squinting from the brightness of the sun. "My mom's in surgery, and the team going after Kane just left. We should, too."

"Did you find Octavia?" Bellamy questions.

"No," her voice says from behind the two of us, "I found you." She jumps up to our level of ground with a determined expression on her face. "I'm not letting you leave here without me."

"Octavia--" Clarke tries to say, but the younger Blake cuts her off immediately and speaks to her brother.

"Finn and Murphy are headed to Lincoln's village. I've been there. Have you? Have they?"

"You done?" Bellamy asks with a playful smile. His sister glares at him.

"She's right," I argue in her favor while grabbing a rifle of my own from the bag. "She knows where we're going better than we do. We can't just expect to leave her behind."

There's a beat of silence in which nobody says or does anything. My eyes shift from Bellamy to Clarke with my face devoid of emotion. Then, Bellamy sighs and grabs the last backpack, plopping it on Octavia's arms.

"What's this?" she asks rhetorically.

"Your pack." There's a mischievous glint in Bellamy's eyes. Octavia smiles softly and zips it up. "Lead the way."

I secure the strap of the rifle around my shoulder and prepare to follow Octavia's lead, but Raven stops us suddenly. Her hand stops us from walking; there's warning in her eyes.

"Whoa, not so fast, Pocahontas."

Raven simply holds out her metal walking stick and taps it against the electric fence. White sparks immediately fly out, accompanied by a loud buzzing noise that makes me jump. A reminder of the baton being stuck into my side causes me to shiver. I suddenly remember that I should've changed the bandages on my stomach and hands again- they probably got dirty while on our last expedition.

"I thought you said it was handled," Clarke whispers to Raven.

"It is," she replies calmly. She takes a walkie from her pocket and presses the button on the side. "Shut her down, Wick."

A few seconds later, two clicks from the other side of the radio catch my attention. Raven nods and holds out her stick again. This time, there's nothing.

She smiles confidently at Clarke. "Handled."

Octavia shoves her pack through a large enough hole in the wiring of the fence. Before I go to follow, I turn to Raven and smile sadly at her. I know how badly she must want to go with us. I feel genuinely sorry that her leg prevents her from doing so much.

"Really, Raven," I say. "Thank you."

She sends me a closed-lipped grin. "It's no problem."

I nod and give her a wave goodbye before following behind Clarke through the fence, keeping low until I get into the forest and far away from Camp Jaha.

--

"No. Try again. Ai laik Falon kom Skaikru."

I groan at Octavia's words. I must have repeated the phrase at least fifty times by now, and it's still not satisfactory to her.

"Ai laik Falon kom Skaikru, and I really want to take a nap."

Octavia shakes her head with her gaze locked on the trees ahead of her. "Keep your vowels short. It's a simplified version of common English. Even your name will have one less 'l' because it's not necessary, just like Bellamy's will."

"Who the hell came up with this language?" I ask in an annoyed tone. "And who the hell thought it would be a good idea to just get rid of letters?"

"Ai laik Falon kom Skaikru," Octavia presses impatiently. "Again. Then we can move on to other phrases."

I heave a frustrated sigh and hear Bellamy clear his throat from behind me. When I turn, he's looking up at the tops of the trees and seemingly paying no attention to me. Clarke's gaze flickers between us with a small smirk. She knows me so well that it's obviously clicked in her mind about Bellamy and I - her expression alone reveals it all.

And then I realize what I've done and laugh to myself, almost tripping over a gnarled tree root as I do so. A faint flush creeps up my neck; I'm glad I tied my hair up or I'd probably be sweating. The dense air combined with the blush is increasing my body temperature.

Night falls faster than expected, and we stop to rest and sleep for as long as we can. Bellamy and Octavia make a fire while Clarke and I address any wounds, and I re-apply the bandages to my wrists. Clarke and Bellamy stare as I do so.

I sit with Bellamy on a log, feeling the heat of the fire and simply enjoying the silence and his presence beside me. Our knees almost touch. That combined with the crisp air and crackling of the flames is enough to make me sleepy. Soon my eyelids are drooping and I'm yawning to a questionable extent.

I focus on the way that the leaves on the trees glow neon ever so slightly. It brings me peace of mind to look at the nature around me and how the radiation has affected it. The image of the mutilated deer from our first day pops into my head, making me realize how easy things were back then. Octavia and I had swum for the first time. Wells was alive. Things were easier. Things that seemed so big back then are so petty now.

I don't mean to fall asleep then, especially not in Bellamy's lap of all places. It doesn't even make sense as to how I get there. At some point I wake groggily and acknowledge his hand against my cheek before dozing off again, listening to the low sound of his voice as he says something about Finn to Clarke.

The grogginess is gone when I wake up at dawn. The first sign of sunlight is starting to show through the trees, casting a direct line of bright orange onto us. Octavia is still sleeping peacefully on the right side of the log, but Clarke is up and so is Bellamy. I notice I'm lying on my side and shift around so I'm on my back and looking up at Bellamy.

"Have a good sleep, Amazon?" he questions with a slight grin. I don't respond and instead examine the dark circles beneath his obviously tired eyes.

"Did you sleep at all?" I ask, sitting up and watching him under a concerned gaze.

He shrugs. "I'll be fine."

"No." I shake my head and rub my eyes with my fists. "We can spare a little more time. Get at least an hour's rest."

"While it's flattering that you care, we need to get a move on," Bellamy dismisses before standing and stretching his arms over his head. I briefly make note of how his shirt rises and exposes a line of his tanned torso before blinking and diverting my gaze.

"Bellamy," I say his name firmly, twisting my aching back and cringing at how much it hurts from sleeping on the log. "Please."

He shakes his head. "You needed it more than me."

I decide to give up the argument - it's obvious I'm not going to win - and stand up as well. The fire has long since gone out, now nothing but a pile of ashes blowing in the slight breeze around burnt logs. The air smells like charred wood and stings my nostrils.

"Bell's right- we need to go," Octavia agrees as she stuffs a few things back into her bag. I jump, having not noticed that she's awake. "It's a long walk until we reach the camp."

Clarke nods. "Let's go, then."

We spend the walk in silence except for Octavia still trying to teach me Trigedasleng. She's not the best teacher for it considering that she only knows what Lincoln managed to ingrain in her mind, but it's a fairly simple language in and of itself. I like the way it sounds.

A few hours later, at mid-morning, Octavia takes out her sword and becomes increasingly alert. I follow her down a steep slope of dirt, praying I don't fall on the loose soil that slides under my boots. The rifle stays secure in my arms in case of emergency.

Bellamy glances down at the map. "This is it."

In the distance, about thirty yards away, is the side profile of a large statue of a man sitting in a chair. The stone is severely dirty to the point where it's almost brown, but I've been taught enough history to know that it's what's left of the Lincoln Monument. We're standing on what's left of Washington D.C.

"Which way to the village?" Bellamy asks Octavia, but she gives no response. Her gaze is fixed on the statue and her eyes are quickly watering. Bellamy shares a questioning look with Clarke and I, to which I shrug at. "O?"

"The Reapers came from there." Octavia points her sword toward the monument, her voice breaking. She swallows thickly

I glance at the monument and then at Octavia's crumbling expression. Something clicks in my mind- the Lincoln Monument. Lincoln.

Octavia turns toward her brother with her face contorted in pain. The tears welling in her blue-green eyes threaten to spill over. "I couldn't save him, Bell."

I can almost feel my heart break in half at the pain evident in her voice as Bellamy pulls her into a hug tight hug and she buries her face in his shoulder. Lincoln meant so much to her - he was her rock, someone who cared for her that wasn't her own family. He had saved her multiple times. And she couldn't save him.

The sound of distant gunshots fills the air, making me jump and instantly begin sprinting in the direction they come from. My instincts are screaming at me that something is wrong. My feet slide on the ground again; I have to dodge trees and stumps that threaten to trip me as I sprint. The rifle bangs against my side as I lead the group toward the source of the gunfire.

What I see when I break through the forest causes me to trip and fall to my knees in the dirt.

Finn is firing bullet after bullet at any Grounder who moves, a sheer look of determination in his eyes that warps him into someone unrecognizable. Bodies litter the ground. Blood is everywhere. Shouts are filling the air, almost louder than the sound of Finn's gun as he kills ruthlessly. Murphy keeps yelling at him to stop with a traumatized expression on his face, mousy hair a mess while he backs away from Finn.

It only stops when he sees us. His eyes widen and then clear of rage, his jaw dropping.

I can hardly move. My legs seem to have gone numb just to spite me. My eyes roam across the village Finn just massacred, my stomach twisting in knots. There are tears pricking my eyes; my mind can't comprehend what I'm seeing.

Bellamy's hand is on my shoulder. He helps me stand, keeping a hold on my waist to prevent me from possibly falling over like my body wants me to. I watch Octavia run to tend to a fallen Grounder - possibly a friend of Lincoln's - and refuse to meet Finn's eye.

Together, Bellamy and I walk closer to where Finn and Murphy stand in front of a few small, wooden houses. I see countless Grounders cowering in fear behind a dilapidated fence that is probably the only reason for their survival. The bodies of the already deceased make me shiver. I feel like I've been encased in a permanent cold as I walk past.

Finn steps toward Clarke. She backs away with fear plain in her eyes as he breathes, "I found you."

But he had to massacre a Grounder village to do it.

--

Two days later, I sit with Bellamy and Clarke in the makeshift outdoor dining area. The sky is pitch black; I wouldn't have been able to see their faces if there hadn't been tiny lanterns strung up around the place, illuminating everything in a soft orange glow. Logs, barrels, and containers have to substitute for the lack of chairs we have. The barrel I sit on isn't very comfortable in the least.

I sit beside Clarke with Bellamy across from us. A hand-drawn map of Mount Weather is placed between us on the table, with Clarke's pencil plotting important structures and places. She's trying to explain to us how she got out, and if we can use it as a way to rescue the others. Even if it's just a sketch, her drawing of the dam is admirable.

"Okay," Bellamy says slowly. "Tell me again."

"It's a labyrinth," Clarke repeats in simpler terms, pointing to the places with her pencil as she says them. "We got to the dam through this tunnel. It's all connected to the mine system. That's our way in."

"Sure, if we get past the Reapers and the Mountain Men," Bellamy scoffs indignantly.

I sigh and lean further onto my elbows. "Bell has a point. What's us against three hundred Mountain Men and even more Reapers? Who's to say we don't all die before we can even get inside?"

"Thank you for the optimism, Fallon," Clarke mumbles sarcastically with a playful glare in my direction.

"Hey," I shrug, "you know me. I usually like to have a good, structured plan before I do something."

"Half of the things you've done have been the opposite of a good, structured plan," Bellamy reminds me with a raise of his eyebrows. "Remember going after the Grounder? Real smart--"

"That was you, not me, and it depends on the situation," I tell him in a somewhat exasperated tone. "Look, like I said, it's no use if we're defeated in a large battle before we even have a chance to rescue our friends. An onslaught will just make us tired, weak, and definitely injured. We should consider more options. I will go by myself if I have to."

"That sounds like a good, structured plan," Bellamy teases, assuming I'm not serious, which I totally am. I shoot him a warning look with my eyebrows pushed together.

"You won't be by yourself," Clarke promises me with a small pat to my arm. It's a tiny gesture, but enough for me to break my stare on Bellamy to lift my lips in a tired grin at her.

Clarke's own smile falters and then completely fades, causing me to casually lift myself up to peer over Bellamy's head. The dark outline of Finn jogging out from the Ark's front doors catches my eye. I pull my lips into a line of distaste and plop back down into my seat.

"I guess the inquisition's over," Bellamy muses in an almost disinterested tone. He slowly turns back toward Clarke and I, looking straight past us instead of at us. "How's Finn doing, anyway?"

I face Clarke with my hand propping my head up, curious to hear her answer because I haven't been keeping tabs on Finn myself. I notice the clear discomfort in her eyes as she lowers her head.

"I haven't talked to him since we got back," she admits lowly. Then, as if she's trying to defend herself, she adds, "I don't know what to say."

"That's fine, C," I tell her, using one of her nicknames from our childhood. "That's normal. I mean, what he did was really sudden and uncalled for--"

"He had good intentions," Clarke insists. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than me.

I raise my eyebrows slightly. "Did he?"

I look up just in time to see Finn approach our table, moving my hair out of my face as I do so. He greets, "Hey."

Bellamy is the only one who replies, "Hey."

Finn glances at me briefly, but all I can see when I look into his eyes is the pure rage he had in them while shooting the village. For a second I think I might actually be back in that time period until I blink and he's not looking at me anymore.

Noticing the now tense and somewhat awkward atmosphere, Bellamy and I glance at each other and have a silent agreement to leave. Leaving Clarke with Finn is the last thing I want to do, but in order for them to reconcile, I have to let her do things on her own. We both stand up and push in our seats if we are able.

"Next round's on me," Bellamy says to lighten the mood a bit, then he touches my elbow lightly as he passes and we walk away. I glance over my shoulder while I leave to see Finn sitting where Bellamy previously did.

I worry about Clarke. I really do, especially her emotional state, because of how Finn led her on as well as simultaneously leading Raven on. It still pains her, but she tries to see the best in him. She tries to see the best in every one of the hundred, and maybe that's what makes her such a great leader.

"You aren't serious, are you?" Bellamy asks after handing me one of our glasses. He holds the other two between his middle and index fingers, so they make clinking noises every time he takes a step. The sound is barely audible over the low chatter around us. "About going to Mount Weather by yourself?"

"Of course I am," I reply confidently. I can see him glance at me out of the corner of my eye. He reaches his arm out so I have to stop walking and looks at me in disbelief. "Don't look at me like that. I know you were thinking the exact same thing- I could see the gears turning in your head." I pause and search his eyes. "Sometimes I think you forget how well I know you, Bellamy. You'd die for your friends just like I would."

Bellamy shifts his gaze to his feet. "I know. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"It's my life I'm risking, Bell," I remind him gently. "I know the risks. And besides, you can't stop me. I'll sneak out if I have to."

"I'm not trying to stop you," he promises while looking straight into my eyes. "I just want you to consider all of our options before you embark on a suicide mission. That I'm tagging along in."

I no longer see a point in arguing, so I say, "I will. Promise."

Bellamy looks down and entwines our fingers together. I can't help but realize that his hand almost completely swallows mine.

And, because it seems right, I slowly rise on my toes and let my lips meet his in a brief kiss. It's short because we're in a public dining area with people surrounding us, but it's still long enough that I can taste the alcohol from the Moonshine we drank.

"C'mon," I chuckle at his pout when I pull away, "we have some glasses to fill."

We approach the makeshift bar, where the female bartender accepts our request of Moonshine without a second glance at us. Technically I'm still seventeen - I'll be eighteen next month, if I have the current date correct - and therefore I'm underage. It barely matters anymore, so I don't have to worry. Underage drinking is the last thing we have to worry about.

That's what makes me recognize the age gap between Bellamy and I for the first time. With him at twenty-three or something and me at seventeen, our relationship would be illegal in the pre-apocalyptic era. It never really occurred to me before because Bellamy always fit in so easily with the rest of us. He never seemed to be that much older than us- especially not by six years.

I glance over at Bellamy, watching how he waits with his elbows on the sad excuse for a counter and taps his fingers against it. The dim lighting near the bar and the shadows from it sharpen his facial features. I find my eyes traveling over the curve of his jaw and wonder what it would be like to kiss him there.

Bellamy catches me staring. Instead of looking away sheepishly, I hold his gaze and look right into his eyes. His dark hair falls in messy semi-curls over his forehead due to the haircut he got yesterday- which, if anything, makes his jaw look sharper. I suddenly want to say 'Float the people around us' and kiss him senseless at that exact moment.

The spell is abruptly broken when the bartender sets our filled glasses before us with a loud clink. Her face is dangerously impassive as she goes back to cleaning some bottles. I clear my throat, take my glass, and thank her before turning back to Bellamy and walking back toward our table.

"You sure you need that Moonshine, Amazon?" he asks teasingly. "Wouldn't want a repeat--"

"I can hold my liquor very well when I want to, thank you," I say curtly, taking a sip while he's watching. The alcohol burns my throat slightly as it goes down, and I'm feeling slightly buzzed, but definitely not drunk. I'm a long way from that.

"You sure about that?" Bellamy raises an eyebrow. "Because last time, you said I had a nice face, stroked my cheek, and then almost fell trying to hug Clarke. Then you passed out in my tent after telling me the ground wasn't comfy."

I smack him lightly on the arm with a glare. Some of the Moonshine spills out of my glass from my movement.

"That's because I wanted to get drunk," I argue. "And, for the record, you offered your tent. I think."

Bellamy chuckles. "Yeah, I did. But you were going to trip and fall into the fire if I didn't make you go to sleep. Good call?"

"Good call."

Since Bellamy has both his and Clarke's glasses in his hands, I can't entwine our fingers again. I decide to sling my arm around his shoulders instead. When he glances at me, mildly surprised, I plant a kiss on his (newly cleaned) cheek and grin. He smiles back.

Suddenly, whatever else I previously thought was the best thing in the world turns to garbage. Bellamy's smile, I decide, is definitely the best.

-------

THE FALLAMY MOMENT IS SLIGHTLY TRASH BC I WAS WRITING ALL DANDY AND IT WAS SO GOOD AND I WAS ALMOST DONE WHEN THE APP CRASHED AND DELETED THE PART AND I LOWKEY CRIED ABOUT IT

-kristyn