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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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011.
LATE NIGHT.
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Robin hardly walked through factory station. She never really needed to; they were the quieter of stations, and you didn't pass by to get to anything important on the other side. No classes took place there, either.

Mecha was loud. Louder than factory, by a landslide. She couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. While factory was no richer than mecha, they were lots calmer and more poised. Less scruffy, too. It was the home of seamstresses and manufacturing, whereas mecha produced mechanics and engineers that looked a bit rough around the edges. Mecha kids were a riot, but factory kept themselves to themselves; book nerds, the lot of them.

   She followed after Raven, who seemed to know where she was going despite being from mecha station too, and they walked through the halls rather swiftly.

    "Hey! Tall stuff!"

   The guard up ahead stopped and turned with his eyebrows raised.

   He was tall, Raven had that right. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes equally as dark. He seemed young for a member of the guard, but Robin was a young engineer, so she was in no place to question it. Nor did she really feel like it because she didn't care enough. Rather, Robin stayed quiet as they walked up to him and stopped around a foot away. The guard peered down at them with a look of intrigue, and scanned them up and down. Brow arched, he crossed both arms over his chest, "Can I help you, short stuff?" His gaze went from Raven to Robin, "Short stuff two?"

    "We need your shitty radios," Raven said.

    "You the mechanics we called for?"

    "Damn right, we are." She shrugged, "Problem?"

    "None," he said simply, smiling sarcastically. He hadn't expected two young girls to be mechanics, but if he had learned anything over the years, it was that he couldn't judge on first looks. There could be more to people than met the eye; after all, he was hiding his illegal sister under the floor. "Come with me, then."

   Robin didn't follow, immediately. She watched Raven walk after the guy, her facade as bold and confident as ever, meanwhile the younger girl looked on with mild skepticism.

   Tall guy had noticed.

    "You coming?" He turned, meanwhile Raven kept walking like she knew the route she was going in. Tall guy slowly stepped backwards, his eyes focused on Robin as he did so, and he raised a teasing brow. That seemed bug her, and he couldn't hide the amusement on his face when hers went sour. He had an innate joy that he found buried within bugging people. Especially people who were far too easy to bug; like this girl, now. There was something satisfying about it. No other feeling compared. "By all means, stand there all day." He shrugged in an overly careless manner, "Or, you could come make us our less-shitty radios; it's all up to you, kid." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, "Not afraid— are you?"

   At that, she scowled.

    "I'm not afraid."

   Her words jarred him. He stopped for a moment, blinking, with something in his eye— understanding? Familiarity, maybe? It was only there shortly, until he shook it off as she rose her brows. Tall guy coughed, "Good. Hurry up, then."

• • •

   Turns out, Charlotte wasn't as little as she looked. Actually, there was some fire to the kid. Robin found it somewhat comical how she interacted with Bellamy when he told to her to go to sleep — like a bratty ten year old who didn't want to abide by the curfew. All kids on the ark had been there; Robin included. Nonetheless, she found the way Bellamy and Charlotte interacted quite interesting. As if it had been decided that he was taking a parental role of her, like the older brother none of them had experienced besides Octavia. The position seemed to come naturally to Bellamy. After all, it was only him who knew what that was like; he was only brother from the ark and out of the hundred. She couldn't be sure, but Robin supposed that the brotherly role was hard for him to get rid of. Kids were his soft spot because of Octavia.

Robin had never thought about having a sibling. They were least common on the ark, and she was fortunate enough to have a good relationship with her parents as a kid — so, she hadn't ever wished to have anyone else. Plus, second children were illegal. No one had a sibling.

Well— other than the Blake family, that is.

Talk went around fast. There were few secrets on the ark, no one knew how to mind their own business, and that was why the Blake's had become the height of gossip, since the masquerade.

After that night, they were infamous; not many people didn't know the stories of the girl who lived under the floor, for sixteen years. It was common knowledge that she had been caught and the mother floated. Second children were simply not allowed — it was said to be a waste of oxygen, and, like most crimes that their council chose to reinforce, was punishable by death. Octavia would have died for being born, murdered by the ones who prevented her from living a life in the first place. While Robin had never thought about having siblings, the thought turned her sour. Poor kid never had a chance.

Perhaps she would have followed her sibling down to earth too, if she had one. Losing them once would have been hard enough. So, in that sense, she supposed she had an acute respect for Bellamy; it was small, but it was there.

Her eyes flickered between said man and the younger girl, and it made her lips twitch at the corner. The kid frowned up at Bellamy.

"Charlotte—"

"Why do you guys get to stay up?"

Robin had to give it to the kid, she had some guts.

"Because I'm a grown up," Bellamy argued, softly. He looked at Robin with a smirk, one that was greeted with a deadpan face and expression; "And who said she was staying up?"

Robin rolled her eyes. She would have argued if Charlotte didn't crack a smile at his comment. Crossing her left ankle over the right with her legs outstretched, she shrugged; "Yeah— funny. Sleep easy, Blake. Watch your back."

   Something about her words made Charlotte's eyes glitter. In fact, everything about Robin made Charlotte glow. Bellamy could see it in the way the younger girl clung to every one of Robin's actions, a series of subconscious mirrors. When Robin straightened her back or held her head high, Charlotte would do the same. She had even debated pulling out her braid so that her hair was laying freely, like Robin's was. Clearly, she already thought highly of Robin Loxely. It occurred to Bellamy that it was a girl thing, or because the hood was apparently no secret to the skybox, or perhaps it was simply due to Robin being cool — which, admittedly, she was. Not that he would say so.

"Get some sleep, kid." Bellamy said, "You need it."

Charlotte sighed but relented, sinking down where she sat so she was in a laying position. When she was situated, Bellamy carefully draped his jacket over her small form. Robin watched on, intrigue on her mind but no desire to question it. Who knew the king had a heart? She certainly didn't.

   Truth be told, Robin wasn't sure how to feel about Bellamy. She knew she didn't like him. Then again, that seemed to be a partially unpopular opinion. He was hard to digest. To her he was, anyway.

   They stayed in silence as they waited for Charlotte to settle, until eventually the only sounds were the soft snores that passed her lips.

Robin rolled her lips between her teeth.

Neither Robin nor Bellamy knew whether the fog had fallen, but neither of them particularly wanted to check. It was late — far too late for the three to make for camp. Their time sat in the cave had gone slowly, and it could have been days as opposed to hours. Robin was getting antsy, admittedly, but she remained seated and picking at the loose thread on the hem of her pants. Part of her wanted to loop it around her finger and yank it off, but then she knew there'd be little else to entertain her if she did.

Although, maybe not.

Robin pushed her hand into the pocket of her jacket, fumbling around the seaweed. She pulled out a few radio components, and a couple wires, deciding that the time they sat waiting out the fog could be utilised more favourably, in communicating with the ark.

Laying the pieces before her, the girl shifted to be sat with both of her legs crossed.

She began splicing wires, using the knife in her pocket, fingertips nimbly twisting them together. Her eyes lingered upon the mother-board she had swiped from the automobile's radio.

"Hey— where'd you get that?"

   Robin didn't look up; "Automobile."

"Automobile?" Bellamy echoed, confused. She nodded simply and he puckered his lips while nodding, better not to ask. "...automobile."

Rolling her eyes, she kept her focus on the components and let a bored expression grace her face. She knew that not everyone was a mechanics nerd, and that his expertise had been in mopping floors and cleaning vomit, but she would have thought perhaps Bellamy Blake might have some braincells. Even if only a couple going spare at the back of his mind. Apparently not, however. Robin proceeded to splice.

    "It's a car, genius."

    "I know what it is, sweet cheeks." He retorted swiftly, no longer confused but a dripping sour. Bellamy didn't like being smart-assed by pretty girls; it dampened the flames of his ego. "How'd you find it?"

    "With my eyes,"

"Cute."

"Do ya mind?" Robin said, "I'm kinda busy here, and your voice makes me wanna hit you."

"That hurt, birdy." Bottom lip jutted out, Bellamy feigned pain, a hand over his heart. When she scoffed, he shrugged. He watched her work for a short minute, eyeing her closely. Her fingers moved fluidly, and it seemed like muscle memory; second-nature. Bellamy figured it to be similar to disassembling and reassembling a gun, as they had to back in the guard. He could do it with his eyes shut — whether that was good or bad, he wasn't certain. Bellamy spoke up again, breaking the silence; "I'd give up, kid."

"I'd shut up," she retorted.

"You really think you're gonna contact the ark?" His words sat rigidly in the air, laced with judgement and bitterness. "Nearly set fire to the whole place, last time."

"What is with you and the ark?" Robin finally met his stare.

It was tough to see him, through the dark. They had no source of light in the cave, and they had steered away from the entrance to avoid the fog, and if Robin really wanted to see him she would have to squint. But she could make out a couple of things: like the way he sat against the wall opposite her, one knee up with his arm rested on it, while the other lay flat in front of him; the outline of his curls that had formed with the wet and the rain; the scar on his forehead that became more prominent when his brows pinched. It was dark, but she could still see him. Just about.

    "I don't want them down here, princess." Bellamy set his jaw as she stared him down, her gaze unwavering. "You shouldn't, either."

    "I don't," she shrugged. "But I have people I wanna see. People I want to know I'm alive, even if they don't care." Robin said with her lips forming a thin line, thinking about her father. Perhaps the man didn't care, but Sinclair definitely did— didn't he? Her resolve faded a tinge but she built it back up like walls, long before Bellamy was able to see past it.

"Who?"

For a second, she debated it.

She debated telling him who it was she wanted to know that she was still alive, and those she hoped to see again.

But, that second was quickly over and Robin no longer debated it — she didn't debate telling him, she didn't debate getting things off her chest, she didn't debate anything to do with Bellamy, at all.

Robin Loxely wasn't about to confess all her insecurities; certainly not to Bellamy Blake, of all people. Not that he wouldn't be good at keeping her confessions to himself. Actually, he seemed the type to keep a secret to his chest. The quieter, moodier type. If Robin was going to tell someone on the ground everything about her, it would be him. Perhaps. Something about him screamed secretive. It didn't make him trustworthy, but she doubted he was secret-free. After all he had to get onto the dropship somehow, and it was a low chance it was unproblematic. That was a secret no one knew. So, in a strange way, Robin supposed he would be most likely to keep whatever she chose to tell him (if she did — which, she didn't) to himself. But the girl had no intention on telling Bellamy anything about her. Robin was a private person. Always had been.

She was used to keeping her secrets to herself. That's what they were: her secrets. Hiding them behind her hood. No one on earth was going to change that; and definitely not Bellamy Blake. He, as far as she was concerned, was still a conceited jackass.

"Like you care," she scoffed.

"Yeah— you're right. I don't," he smirked.

Robin scrunched her nose in distaste and smiled sarcastically at him. Correction: giant conceited jackass.

"I don't care..." he shrugged his shoulders, "...but I am curious," Bellamy added on as she went back to messing with old wires and dusty circuits.

"Nosy."

"Huh?"

"You're not curious; you're nosy."

    "Maybe I am," another sly smile, "Or, maybe I just wanna get to know you. You aren't so easy to read," Bellamy noted. He usually got a pretty good read on people; he knew them in seconds. Like how he had known Murphy was reckless and would do anything if it meant he felt like he was in charge, and how spacewalker was an irritating, self-righteous prick, and how Clarke and Wells would be his biggest problem on the ground. But with Robin, it hadn't been so easy.

    "I'm not an open book," she said. "Unlike you."

   Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

    "I'm an open book?"

    "Cover to cover." Robin confirmed, simply. "I got a read on you the minute we came down here, and I gotta say— you are a pretty basic book, Blake. You and I both know that you're an easy read. It's actually kinda pathetic, really."

Admittedly, Bellamy was no fool. He wasn't blind; the man could see what she was insinuating, though he hoped she was wrong. She seemed smart, though. So, Bellamy had little hope — he could feel it in his gut, he knew that she knew. Robin knew he wasn't meant to be on the dropship, and she knew there was no way he was allowed with the delinquents. The council wouldn't let anyone on, let alone an ex-guard turned janitor after discovering he had been hiding his illegal sister for sixteen years. Bellamy knew that Robin knew there was something up with that. He had to have done something to get himself a seat, and she knew that was why he was so adamant that the ark wouldn't follow them. Not if he could help it, at least.

That was his infatuation with the wristbands, and his reluctance to let them contact medical to get help for Jasper, and why he felt a personal vendetta against Clarke and Wells.

Robin knew.

But, she didn't say it. No more than a simple insinuation passed the pink of her lips.

She didn't know him— not really.

What business was it of her own? Robin was curious, she had to admit, but they had all done things to get sent down there, and the boy may have appeared as guilty as the rest of them, but she didn't think he was guilty for wanting to be free. Robin didn't care for the man, or what he did to prevent the ark from coming down, but she did care about her loved ones.

Bellamy Blake could do whatever the hell he wanted. He wanted the ark to stay up there? Fine. That didn't mean Robin would listen to him, however. Robin was going to get their radios working, even if he tried to stop her — to do that, he would have to kill her dead.

And they both knew he had already missed his chance.

If Bellamy wanted her dead, he had already screwed it up. He'd let his one opportunity pass because he couldn't do it. Then Robin had saved his ass, and now they were too far gone. Bellamy wasn't gonna let her die; he had proved it to himself, on day two. Bellamy was an asshole but he wouldn't let her die.

He breathed a laugh through his nose in minor disbelief, "You think so?" When she nodded, Bellamy pursed his lips; "I'm basic?"

"Yup."

"Me?"

"You heard, bucko."

"Yeah— 'cause your whole little red riding hood charade is completely original," he mocked, feeling childish in his jab but not caring; her comment had made him feel childish.

   Eyes narrowed, Robin glared over at him. It didn't look to faze a single ounce of him, nor had the glares she had given him when he had set her dislocated shoulder back in place, or when she tossed a piece of scrap metal at him when he interrupted her work on their first day on the ground. Bellamy Blake didn't seem affected by any of her glares, at all. Although, she supposed she wan't bothered by any of his, either. His glares made no impact on Robin. As a result of this, Robin couldn't care less about the way his stare mirrored a certain hostility that was reflected in her own. Rather, Robin tested the waters.

    "If I'm little red, does that make you the big, bad wolf?"

    "I can be anything you want me to be," Bellamy suggested, with a glimmer dancing in his eyes.

"How about quiet?" She taunted and watched his lips quirk into an amused smile. It was hard to see it in the dark, but it was there, and so was his shift in body language. He wasn't so tense, anymore.

    "Usually girls—"

    "No!"

   As she rolled her eyes, Bellamy's comment was cut short. Both of them flung their bodies around, jumping out their skins as a loud, high-pitched wail echoing in the cave. It bounced against the walls and it rippled through them, and it took a moment to realise it was coming from little Charlotte, in the corner.

   They scrambled up and stumbled over their feet. Robin toppled and nearly fell on her face, but managed to recover as she followed behind Bellamy. While he knelt down and gently shook the girl out of her sleeping state, Robin lingered inches away, peering over his shoulder. She didn't know Charlotte well, and Robin was never the best at dealing with kids. It looked like Bellamy had this one sorted and, rightfully, Robin left him to it. If her life relied on helping out crying kids, Robin wouldn't survive. Bellamy, however, made it look easy.

    "Charlotte?"

   She cried out, shaking.

    "Charlotte? Hey, hey— Charlotte," Bellamy reached out for her when she jolted awake, carefully holding her arms.

    "I—" her eyes were glassy, "I'm sorry..."

   Bellamy shook his head and kept his tone soft. It was softer than anyone else ever heard it, other than his sister; it was a tone he had reserved for little Octavia.

    "It's alright, does it happen often?"

   Nodding, the girl released a sad sigh. Bellamy asked, "What are you scared of?" It was silent between them, and Charlotte looked down, eyes shifting. He didn't pressure her. Rather, Bellamy shook his head, "You know, what? It doesn't matter." He confessed to her with a stronger tone, not forceful but certain, "The only thing that really matters is what you choose to do, about it."

    "But... I'm asleep," she said.

    "Fears are fears." Bellamy countered, "Slay your demons when you're awake, and they won't be there to get you when you sleep."

   Slightly confused by his words, Charlotte's brows cinched above the bridge of her nose. She glanced from him to Robin, whom still lingered behind him and watched on in concentration, though the older girl gave no indication that she understood his words, either.

    "Yeah— but, how?"

    "You can't afford to be weak," was the answer he gave. "Down here, weakness is death; fear is death." Bellamy gently wiped away the tear stains from her cheeks, "Lemme see that knife I gave you, okay?" She routed through her pockets and passed him one of the knives that Robin had made, and left for the delinquents to pick. It made her frown, Bellamy gave a knife to a little girl? Before she had the chance to question his babysitting skills again, the man grabbed the weapon and held it in his hands. "Now— when you feel afraid, you hold tight to that knife and you say: screw you, I'm not afraid." When she nodded her head, albeit hesitantly, Bellamy returned the knife to her grip. He showed her how to hold it without cutting her skin on the edges, and gave a firm nod; "Okay, let's hear it."

   Charlotte gripped it timidly, both hands.

    "Screw you, I'm not afraid."

   Although he didn't voice it, Bellamy gave her a look that told her she could do better. So, Charlotte sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She had more confidence, this time.

    "Screw you, I'm not afraid."

    "Slay your demons, kid." Bellamy patted her knee with pride, a brotherly smile on his lips. He helped her settle back down, pulling his jacket over her like he had done before, tucking her in. "Then, you'll be able to sleep."

   Robin stayed where she stood while Bellamy scooted over to the spot he had occupied prior to the sweet moment. She tugged both lips between her teeth, rolling them, caught up in such softness he had just exhibited. It was good advice — actually, it was very good advice; some of the best advice she had heard anyone give a twelve year old child, before — not that she'd heard all that much, really.

   But, her point still stood. Bellamy Blake had given good advice to a kid who was desperately in need of it.

   Robin blinked, colour her impressed.

    "All good, birdy?"

    "Yeah..." she muttered, pulling out of her thoughts. Robin sat in her original place, stuffing the wires and parts back into the safety of her jacket pockets; "M'fine."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

He nodded once, slowly. His head then tilted to the left, gazing at her in a tired, innocent wonder. Bellamy didn't fully get Robin Loxely. Then again, he was sure she didn't get him. That made it even. He didn't understand why she was so adamant on contacting the ark, or why she had dedicated her life to swiping from the rich and giving to the poor when she knew she could get arrested for it, or how she knew John Murphy. Bellamy didn't get why he had no ill-feeling towards her, despite the fact she wouldn't take her stupid wristband off, or why he saved her life when it would have been a lot easier for him if he didn't, or why he put her shoulder in place so she wouldn't have to deal with Clarke Griffin. He also didn't get why she was looking at him, like that. Like he wasn't so bad. Like it was all suddenly clear to her.

That he wasn't a monster, that he had a big heart.

Bellamy didn't like the way she looked at him, something about it made him uncomfy. She looked like she was seeing through him.

Robin had thought that she had read him, page by page. That it was easy to see who he was; a man of mystery, a man of pain, and a man of strife. He was selfish, and mean, and a total asshole, but he loved his little sister. That was all there seemed to be to Bellamy Blake, but now... now, Robin wasn't so sure. Not anymore, at least.

"How's that for open book?" He said.

"I might be reconsidering," she shrugged, simply.

Again, his lips turned. He scratched the back of his neck, head tilted to the ground.

He wasn't.

Robin Loxely was harder to read, than ever. He had only known of her for three days, but Bellamy found himself running in circles trying to figure the girl out.

Not that he cared; Bellamy didn't care. He was just curious, or he was nosy— whatever the hell she wanted to call it. Bellamy found her intriguing, in a mysterious, blunt, poetic kinda way. There was something about her. There was something.

Through the darkness, Bellamy watched her lift her hood over her head. She thumbed at the fabric and adjusted it until she was almost hidden by it, and his forehead creased. Taking in her body language, he noticed how she wrapped her arms around herself, a certain edge to her shoulders now that lethargy graced over them as it had done with Charlotte. Bellamy quirked a brow teasingly as he spoke up.

"You afraid, princess?"

"I'm not afraid," Robin let out a scoff.

She sank down the wall and rolled onto her side, but not before rolling her eyes. He mirrored her actions and her eyes lingered on his figure.

Robin reverted into herself and released a light breath.

"I'm not afraid."

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