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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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008.
NOT FOR THE FAINT
OF HEART.

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Walking back to the dropship was awkward, and tense, and brisk as they marched through the cold air. Night was falling upon them and as was the chill, and the group rushed to get Jasper to warmth before his condition could worsen — could it even get much worse?

Robin had never been an optimist.

So, when she saw the state that the kid was in up close, she didn't have much hope he would make it through the night.

It was bad. So bad, that Robin wasn't sure he would even make it back to the dropship. But, he prevailed, and she was proven very wrong when they entered their makeshift camp. They had started to gather fallen trees to make a wall to surround their perimeter; it was a work in progress. Most of the teenagers had dropped what it was they were doing in favour of watching the search party return, a bloody and bruised Jasper at their side. He was still breathing, an unexpected achievement in Robin's opinion, and his groans caught a lot of attention. Enough so, that Monty Green came flying out the dropship.

"Is he okay? Is he alright?"

Robin was glad he was talking to Clarke. She didn't particularly enjoy being bombarded with questions, or being spoken too much by anyone in general.

Although, she supposed Monty Green was alright.

    "He's alive," the blonde told him. She pushed back the material hanging over the dropship doorway, allowing Wells and Finn space to carry Jasper inside, the boys growing lethargic under the weight but unwilling to put him down until they were safely indoors, away from harm. "I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandages."

   Hood up, Robin slinked into camp and slipped between the kids that had gathered to see what Murphy and Bellamy were carrying; no one paid her any mind, letting her weave around their bodies, a silhouette within a hundred teens. She didn't have any desire to be around when they took the fame for a glory kill, although it actually had been anything but. Every step made the metal tucked into her waistband dig uncomfortably into her hipbone, but Robin ignored it. It wouldn't have been the first time she felt the cool sensation on her skin. Bellamy had yet to ask for his gun, back — perhaps being close to mauled by a wild panther had made him forget it, or Wells using up all the bullets had left it practically useless. Only one single bullet was left for Robin to finish the big cat off. Now, the weapon's purposes were redundant with the lack of new ammunition.

She didn't really want to be around for Clarke's wanna-be doctor routine either, even if she did want to talk to Monty and see if they had made any progress with communications — he would be busy fussing over his friend, anyway. Instead, Robin made for the ladder that lead to the top of the dropship; her refuge from the rest of the camp. It was quiet, up there.

A voice stopped her, "You guys found him?"

"Goggles boy?" she said. Robin turned to look at them with a blank expression. "Obviously, genius."

"Is he gonna make it?" Jace asked her, opting to ignore the rude and sarky comment, which was quite unnecessary — but, Jace had quickly learned that these were becoming common for Robin. She was yet to answer him without one.

"I look like a doctor, to you?" Robin rolled her eyes and gave a shrug of her shoulders. "Don't know, don't care." She turned back to the ladder. "You wanna know? Go ask our lil' princess, Jackson."

"It's Jace."

"Whatever."

With a tight smile, the girl went to climb the ladder. But, as she lifted her arm to reach the highest rung, a sickening pop! sounded, and she fought back a groan.

A burning pain blossomed in her shoulder and burned down her back. Robin clenched her jaw as she retracted her arm; she almost forgot about falling down the ditch and nearly dying, just as Robin had forgot that Bellamy had nearly torn her arm right off when he had caught her.

It hadn't given her much bother, on the way back. Considering it hadn't been her job to carry Jasper or the panther, and she shot the gun with her opposing arm, Robin hadn't felt any pain, other than a mild and dull ache when her arm swung by her side. Usually, she was good with pain. Her tolerance was high, and she had never felt pain like the pain she suddenly felt in that shoulder. Broken bones, fractures, sprains — Robin Loxely never had them. Scratches, and scrapes, and bruises? All the time. So, really, pain wasn't new to her but this kind of pain... this kind of pain was new.

"Hey— you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh, really?" Jace had seen her wince, "Yeah, I believe you."

"Get lost, Jace." Robin huffed, "Just back off!"

"Alright," he nodded.

"Huh?"

"Alright." The kid echoed his words and took a step away, both arms in the air. She shot him a funny look, "I'm backing off, hood."

Still maintaining her odd expression, Robin watched him for one moment longer. Then, clicked her tongue at the nickname the boy opted to throw in, "Real original, kid."

"I'm the same age, as you."

"I don't care."

Jace scoffed. She didn't seem to care for anything, but he guessed it wasn't really his business what she cared for. Jace didn't know her, he had only properly met her via Murphy — otherwise, it was pretty likely that she would have remained the girl who he had sat next to on the dropship, down. He wouldn't have known Robin, or that she was the hood.

"Go on, then." He said.

"What?" Again, she sent him an odd look.

"You were gonna climb up there, weren't you?" Jace pointed his finger at the ladder, to which she nodded. "Go on, then— if you're so fine." He crossed his arms, watching as her face dropped; it was no longer emotive. Jace grew smug, "What ya waitin' for, hm?"

"Go float yourself, Jace."

"That's what I thought," he smirked.

"Yeah? With what braincells?"

"Don't need 'em."

Pursing her lips, eyes narrowed, Robin span back to the ladder; a second passed where she lingered, contemplating whether she had much chance of even making it to the top of the dropship, though it was over quickly. Why was she questioning it? Of course she could make it. It was Robin Loxely, it was the hood. She would make it up.

Teeth grit, the girl lifted her other arm and placed it on the rung, then lifted the other. She bit back a yelp and a flinch at the pain as she did so, and dropped it to her side. His smug look was burning a hole in her head, and as much as it hurt, Robin wasn't willing for an admission of defeat; Robin never admitted defeat, so she sucked in a sharp breath and kept climbing. It was hard, and painful, and she was forced to abandon one arm two rungs up, but she went for it. She always went for it. Hurt? Robin was perfectly fine.

"What are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, y'know—" Jace looked at Bellamy with a shrug as the leader appeared at his side, then back at the girl. "Watching Robin climb."

   Bellamy blinked at him once, "Why?"

    "Waitin' for her to fall," he said. "She reckons she's fine, but I reckon she's hurt her arm, or somethin'." Jace explained, "Gonna see who's right, any minute now..." he turned back and cupped his hands over his mouth, "...keep on climbin', hood!"

   While Bellamy rolled his eyes and gave him a shove, Robin let a ragged sigh pass her lips. She tilted her head to face the sky to try and forget the burning pain, lashes screwing shut. Her fingers held onto the rung tightly, her knuckles going white as she leaned back forwards and rested her forehead against it. The metal was cool on her clammy skin.

   She wasn't giving up...

   ...she just needed a moment.

A longer moment than her pride would allow her. She bit her lip and sighed.

Once she made it to the top, she would be totally fine. Up there, Robin could sleep it off and she would feel better by the morning.

Robin released a steady stream of air through her nose, feeling it tickle the warm sweat on her upper lip, and reopened her eyes. An almost missable nod, and Robin was back to climbing, once again.

"All good, birdy?"

She huffed at the new voice, "Just peachy."

   A grunt came from the back of her throat as she forced herself up another rung. Just as her fingers grabbed onto it, the sweatiness on her palms slipped against the metal — Robin flailed her limbs and gasped, forgetting about her shoulder and flinging her arm to loop around the rung and save her fall.

   Her lips parted and a shriek of pain sounded, low and guttural; it sounded as though she were dying alongside Jasper, or with the panther she had shot before it pounced on Bellamy. Robin held in the air in her longs and counted to ten. It didn't help out her shaky legs, but it did slow her breathing slightly. Her eyes prickled, which made Robin pucker her lips angrily. Baby, she scolded. Pressing her tongue in cheek, Robin reverted into her hood. The motion was a reminder that the hood didn't cry. She was a big girl. Hell— she was a criminal! Robin had been through worse than a sore shoulder; it wasn't even a competition. For a girl who swallowed emotions like pills, it shouldn't have been a measly pain in her arm that made her want to scream. That wasn't Robin. That had never been, and never would be, Robin Loxely.

    "C'mon, princess. I think that's enough," Bellamy said.

    "I don't answer to you!"

    "Fine— tell yourself to get your ass back down, here!" Crossing his arms, he sighed; "And don't break your neck."

Robin scoffed, but complied. It wasn't as though she could get a lot further, anyway. Slowly, and painfully, the girl shuffled back the way she came. Jace was smiling, cocky and smug, whereas Bellamy looked bored.

   Although, something glimmered in his eyes. Not that Robin would know; she missed it.

    "Lemme see," the man instructed when she was back on earth, both booted feet planted firmly on the soil. Bellamy noticed all the sweat gracing her brow but said nothing on the matter. Rather, he mirrored the bemused expression she shot him. "Show me— or I'll show myself."

    "Creep..." she mumbled.

   Nonetheless — having known he likely would follow up on all his threats, he seemed kinda unhinged — Robin lifted the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her shoulder, grunting lowly when it bent a funny direction. It didn't matter much to her: that her shirt was no longer over her torso. Bellamy cleared his throat and Jace averted all eye contact, but they needn't be that dramatic. Scoffing, Robin's tone was loud as she told them she had a tank top on under it, and never seen so much of a girl, before? before promptly calling them a pair of losers. Bellamy set his jaw, hoping his blush wasn't too visible. It was rare that a girl got such a rise, out of him. He wasn't keen.

    "Ew! Ugh— gross!"

   Jace gagged into his palm, gaining looks.

    "I'm gonna be sick—!" He heaved once, then again, then pulled his arm up and hid his face in the crook of his elbow. Jace spared a look, "It's— it's purple! And... god!"

    "Gee— thank you!" Robin sneered.

    "I'm a fainter, dude!" Jace told Bellamy while the latter moved a fraction closer, wanting to inspect it. "I— I think I'm gonna faint!"

   Giving him a glare that clearly dared him to do it, Bellamy went to touch her skin, but Robin flinched away. He sighed; "Hold still, killer. I need to take a look at it," it was hard through the darkness, although the deep blue and purple was prominent against the pale canvas, as was the uneven shading where her bicep connected with the socket of her shoulder. Bellamy failed to hide a grimace, "This been like this, since we got back?"

His real question was whether it had been like that since she had fallen into the ditch while they were saving Jasper. It was hidden in the phrasing, but Robin heard it loud and clear. She nodded, as to which Bellamy sucked his teeth; "Looks dislocated."

Robin's lips formed a thin line. She had never had a dislocated shoulder, explains the popping.

"I'm gonna have to push it back in—"

"Like hell you are!" Robin hissed at him and jerked away.

"Hey— cool it," raising his hands in defence, Bellamy backed up and gave her the option, "Look: you can either get princess to do it, or I can do it."

"No third option?"

"Unless some other kid learns how to fix a dislocated shoulder, then no. Your only third option is to live with it. We can make this easy, birdy— I can fix it for you, or you can wait for Clarke, and it doesn't seem to me that you'd let blondie do anything without risk of punching her in the face— I right?"

   Tugging at her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth, she tried to weight up her options. Let tall, dark and moody do it... or, put it in the hands of the girl she held at gun point, and had her arrested.

If she were honest, Robin couldn't tell if there was supposed to be an option that was better. She didn't think either of them could be defined as better. It was a lose-lose, as far as she was concerned, but she had to admit that being anywhere near Clarke was agony, and maybe she would punch her in the face; Bellamy was right, on that one. It didn't make him the better option, though— did it? He had almost let her die.

Her eyes flitted to Jace, who still looked rather queasy.

There was very little chance of talking him into doing it, Robin could tell that much. And it wasn't as if she could hold much of a grudge against Bellamy; because, while he almost let Robin die, he also didn't.

   Teeth grit, she sighed loudly.

"Fine."

————

    "Ow!" Robin whined.

    "Don't be such a baby," Bellamy scolded.

    "Then I suggest you make those fingers soft and light, bucko." She hissed, eyes narrowed into slits. Robin's jaw hurt from clenching it.

   His lips drew together in a futile attempt to keep his irritation at bay. Bellamy had to remind himself several times that she saved his life only a matter of hours, earlier.

   Bellamy and the panther would have swapped places — the cat would have had him for dinner, rather than the other way around, and their arrival back at camp wouldn't have been half as splendid as it was. Actually, Bellamy wouldn't have known how it would have been. Because he wouldn't have been there. If she hadn't saved his ass, he would be dead.

   That was why he kept silent and held her bicep in his hand, eyes trained on the bruising and light clicking of the joint. The sight of it made him feel a bit peaky, if he was honest. But Bellamy wasn't a man of great honesty, so he swallowed the bile at the back of his throat and acted as though it was fine. He had seen injuries, more than he could count on two hands, and they included every time his little sister managed to injure herself inside of their quarters. For an ambitious girl who rarely left her hole under the floor, Octavia was a walking casualty. Always had been, always would be. And it was up to Bellamy to patch up her cuts and ice her bruises, because the girl couldn't exactly stroll into medical. During their time living on the ark, Bellamy had been Octavia's personal doctor — untrained, of course, but he learned a couple of things along the way. He had seen a lot of injuries in his time being a cadet, too.

But he hadn't, however, seen a dislocated shoulder that bad.

At least, not to memory.

Bellamy had seen men shocked with electric batons, and shot in the leg after misfires, but it was a dislocated shoulder that had him gagging. In his defence, it looked really dislocated. To the point that Bellamy debated going through with it. He wasn't really qualified.

He knew how to put it back in place — it had been a part of the mandatory training for the guard — but he had never had to do it, let alone on such a... graphic example. The looks of it worried him; it crossed his mind that it could be far worse than a dislocation, and that it had potentially damaged muscles and ligaments, but there'd be little they could do about it, anyway. Even if she let Clarke look at it, minimal things could be done. They had no medical supplies, nor any medical professionals. But, he didn't think he could make it much worse.

   Touch gentle, Bellamy allowed his fingertips to dance their way down her arm. He glanced at her face and then at the wristband, tapping it once, twice, three times. Bellamy thought about it. Then he thought otherwise, and cleared his throat.

    "Ready? Want me to count to three, or something?"

    "What am I— six?"

    "Sure act like it," Bellamy retorted.

    "Jackass," Robin shot back, tone slick and fast. She watched the man roll his eyes, "You wanna count? Sure, you do—ow! Fuck—!"

   Bellamy swung her arm around and pushed upwards, hearing a pop! that made him cringe internally. He kept a straight face as she guttural scream came from the very back of her throat, bouncing off the dropship walls and echoing through the metal structure. It sent a chill down Bellamy's spine, and he quickly pushed his hand over her mouth to smother the noises. Robin, however, moved her good arm rapidly and forced him away, groaning loudly with each shove.

"Fuckin' asshole—!" She shrieked, wincing when her arm went a funny direction. It hurt significantly less, but the pain was pulsing, still in a dull throb.

   There was a scuffle from above them, and it wasn't long until the upper level hatch opened, spitting Clarke and Finn out as the pair scrambled down the ladder. Finn landed on the floor first, jumping from the third rung and boots making a thump! He watched in both amusement and bewilderment as something flew past him.

    "Hey— what gives, birdy?"

Bellamy.

    "It fuckin' hurt—!"

Robin.

   As Clarke appeared, Finn rushed over to Robin and scooted her back by her shoulders. She pushed him off.

    "Not that he doesn't deserve it..." Finn glanced over Bellamy, to whom rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly. "...but why are you throwing—" the boy looked down at the ground where an object had landed, embedded in the metal, and quirked a shocked brow; "—is that a knife? Holy—" When she glared at him, he took a breath in and shook his head.

    "We heard a scream," Clarke tried. She looked between them and did a double-take upon seeing Robin's bruised shoulder. She rushed over, "What the hell happened to you? Let me look—" as she reached out a hand, Robin smacked it way. "Hey, Robin—"

    "Back off, princess!" Robin squared up to the blonde.

"Woah—"

Finn swiftly intervened while Clarke inched away, looking timid and nervous suddenly. Robin heard Finn telling her to slow down, but she merely rolled her eyes and scoffed.

It was an interesting sight. Bellamy observed the interaction, not sure why it made his lip twitch, though he supposed it was down to the fact it made sense, now; he knew why Robin Hood was spiteful towards the two members of ark royalty. And, in a twisted way, he enjoyed it. A lot. When someone else displayed hostility to princess and the chancellor, especially without him influencing them to do it, Bellamy gained joy from that. Perhaps it was sick, and twisted, and maybe Bellamy should have felt ashamed for it. But, when this girl gave them such an uproar with hissing words and sharp stares, the feeling was just so hard to resist. Bellamy almost forgot that Robin had hurled a knife at him, minutes prior. Then he remembered, so he went back to scowling. It made the line between his brows more prominent, deeper.

    "Dislocated arm," he said, gruffly.

    "What? When?" Finn frowned, inspecting it himself.

    "When she fell into the ditch, getting Jasper..." muttering lowly, Clarke pieced it together. She glared at Bellamy, "And you popped it back in?"

    "It was fine."

Robin.

    "It was hanging out the socket!"

Bellamy.

    "She could have torn ligaments! You could have made it worse, than it already is!" Clarke appeared to go into panic mode, looking so alarmed that Robin debated whether she would lose an arm all because of Bellamy Blake. "You could have—"

    "Spare me the speech, blondie!" Bellamy snapped, "The guard taught us minor medical training. She was in safe hands, alright?"

   Finn scoffed, "Hands that tore her arm out the socket, in the first place."

When had this turned into a free for all? Robin wasn't certain; it made her click her tongue and hold her bicep, trying to ignore the way it suddenly felt stiff. The feeling admittedly wasn't much better than the prior agony, and she could practically feel the bruising get worse the longer she thought about it. Bellamy hadn't been gentle, but then again, it was restoring a dislocated shoulder. She wasn't a doctor herself, so who knew if a medical professional would be less abrasive with it? Not Robin, for sure. When the arguing seemed to lessen, the blonde peered at Robin's previously dislocated arm and her face twisted, slightly.

"It needs to stay elevated," Clarke said.

"I'll be sure to hold it above my head," Robin quipped.

    "You'll need a sling."

    "I'd rather leak in a cup and drink it," the girl smiled a tight-lipped smile and tried to breeze past them, wanting nothing more than to be clean out of the situation.

   Clarke ignored it, looking for some fabric going spare, while the oldest boy stood straighter and more in Robin's way when she got to the dropship doorway. Glaring up at him, Robin waited for him to shift, eyes hard and boring into his forehead. Bellamy was good at standoffs, it appeared; he didn't move an inch.

Disregarded shirt in hand, Clarke folded it in an angular fashion and wound the ends so that they were thinner, spiralled to ensure a good grip. It wasn't anything special, but it would do while she was healing. That is, if Robin would let Clarke anywhere near her to be able to use it. The moment the blonde got close, shirt outstretched in her hands, Robin slapped it to the ground with a nasty look that made the junior doctor pursed her lips. She looked down and bent to pick up the shirt.

"C'mon, Loxely." Finn sighed.

"No."

"Cooperate," he tried. "Meet us halfway, here."

"Don't need to," she deadpanned, bringing both her arms into the air. Robin resisted the urge to cry out in pain, "See?"

Nobody was able to prevent her from twirling on her heels. She strode out of the dropship with both middle fingers high in the air, above her head to prove her point, and dropped them back to her sides once the material draped back over the door. Robin grunted.

Perhaps it was childish, to not allow Clarke's help. Maybe Robin would have thought so, had she not vividly remembered blondie's role in getting her arrested. And, while they had all been wronged by chancellor Jaha and thus sent to the ground to die, Robin really couldn't find it within herself to let it go. It wasn't as though Wells and Clarke had stolen her pencils, or something. They made sure it was the end of the line, for Robin Loxely. The duo knew that she'd be sent to the skybox and most definitely floated at eighteen, and it had been them who had bagged her a place in hell; they mailed her off with a first class stamp. Wells and Clarke knew Robin would be another teenager whose blood would be on the councils' hands, they were fully aware that another kid would die for trying to survive in a world that wasn't made to benefit them, yet the golden duo were prepared to turn her in, anyway.

They sent her to die as much as chancellor Jaha did, and Robin just couldn't see past their dirty, little deed.

Not yet, maybe not ever.

   "Yeah!"

    "Who's next?"

   Robin looked to the line of teenagers and frowned, realising that the one orchestrating them was Murphy. He was stood by the fire, a smirk on his face and a long metal strip in his hand.

   It didn't take a genius to piece it together: in order to get food, it had come to an option of the delinquents either removing all their wristbands, or keeping the bracelets and going without any food at all. Hungry kids would do anything for food. They all knew that; it had been them that were once hungry kids, it was them that were still hungry kids.

   Acting on desperation was nothing they hadn't lived through — and, asides from the two future council members, it wasn't nothing they hadn't survived. These kids were hungry, and they were willing to do anything that filled their stomachs and rebelled against those on the ark, at the same time.

   Bellamy knew that; it was why he had made his cronies working class kids, like Murphy.

   He knew that they would eat from the palms of his hands if that meant surviving. That was exactly why Murphy was prying off the wristband of another kid. Not only was he unhinged, but Murphy wanted the ark to perish for murdering his father — he wanted the ark to feel the way his father had done, dying slowly and painfully, and suffering every second. Murphy also wanted to eat. He was no exception to the starving, and he wanted to impress Bellamy Blake just as much. Bellamy was older, and cooler, and seemed to make a lot of the shots. Sticking by Bellamy's side not only made Murphy feel a sense of superiority, but it also made the ark seem small, and his future seem big, and it fed him, all the while. Murphy liked that.

   Apparently other kids like that, too. Like Jace, for example, who directed delinquents into a line and filed them towards Murphy, a couple of other kids by his side who weren't important enough for a name to come to mind and match their face.

    "They're taking off wristbands, for food..." Finn.

    "I'm not," Robin shrugged.

   Before he could say anything, or explain how he had exited the dropship and snuck in beside her with a silence that gave the hood a run for her money, Robin tugged her hood over her head. She left him in her tracks and swiftly slipped around the teenagers, making it to the side of the fire where the food was being cooked. With an airily light tap, she prodded the boy who was roasting panther with her index finger and watched him peer around the opposite way.

   Wait— that seriously worked?

   Were all of these kids genuine idiots?

   She rolled her eyes and picked up a stick of meat. Mimicking a sequence of actions similar to her way there, Robin used her good arm to lift the meat to her mouth and take a large bite as she went back to where Finn still stood. She strolled over and stopped at his side. No one had even noticed her.

    "Your turn."

   Finn quirked a brow and smirked, "Just take it?"

    "Whatever the hell you want, spacewalker." She sent him a sly wink and brushed past him. He took the advice and walked over, swiping up two skewers as Bellamy and Clarke exited the dropship.

If Bellamy wanted to stop her, Robin couldn't tell. His face was made of stone, and his eyes followed Finn before lingering on her.

Bellamy wanted her wristband still, but he had screwed that up when saving her life. He had made a decision and now he had to live with it. It was the wristband or Robin, because she didn't seem inclined to taking it off. Or, maybe it was an act of defiance. While Clarke and Wells were actively trying to prevent the loss of all the wristbands, Robin just seemed inclined to keeping her own.

Before the group left for Mount Weather, he vaguely recalled her saying that she had someone she wanted to know she was alive. He assumed that could have been why. All the same, Bellamy watched as she passed him by without a glance his way.

He wasn't getting that wristband, was he?

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