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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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015.
SINNERS NOT SAINTS.
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Robin Loxely was no saint.

She was certain that if an award existed for screwing up enough times that you lost count, she would be an eligible candidate. They would probably even let her win the damn thing.

But she could proudly say that she had never screwed up because she had murdered someone. That was one line that Robin had yet to officially cross. Robin had never killed a person, but the kid that stood with them in Bellamy's tent had, and she suddenly wondered if any of her many screw ups could amount to that. Perhaps Robin could get her father to forgive her for what she had done, if she let him know that thievery was nothing in comparison to what they had experienced on the ground.

Stealing was nothing.

"What were you thinking, Charlotte?"

Robin stared blankly at the little girl, unable to look away. If she looked away, then the kid might disappear from the scrutiny of her gaze. And, if that happened, Robin wasn't sure what she would do.

An overwhelming part of her wanted to kill the girl. She wanted to cut her up into pieces and feed her to the grounders, or to string her up and let her feel the pain Murphy felt when they attempted to float him for the murder she had committed. Charlotte had very nearly let them kill him for something he didn't do; John could have died; so Robin thought she deserved to feel the pain he endured, any punishment she got. She had killed Wells Jaha, and she had nearly let Murphy take the punishment for it. Robin was in every mind to kill her dead— but she couldn't. Because, at the end of the day, this was a little girl they were talking about, and Robin Loxely wasn't an evil killer. Perhaps she was a thief, and a screw up of a teenage girl according to the ark's council, but she was no killer. Although, nor was Murphy, and look at the thanks he had gotten for it.

Even the thought of it made Robin feel physically sick, and Finn placed a hand on her elbow to keep her steady.

She couldn't get it out of her head: the blood, them binding and gagging Murphy, tying him up and Bellamy kicking the crate, and the way his body swayed, limp. Robin saw it every single time that she closed her eyes. Every time she blinked, she saw the scene play out, all over again. As if she was seeing it for the very first time. She felt the same pain, too.

    "Bring out the girl, Bellamy!"

   Murphy's yells for revenge brought Robin back to reality.

"I was just trying to slay my demons!" Charlotte cried, peering up at Bellamy with wide and teary eyes. His face fell, and his gaze ventured towards Robin, whom had pursed her lips while the little girl panicked, "Like you told me!"

At that, Clarke span to look at him with a harsh glare. Her body was rigid, trying not to lash out at a child for killing her best friend so brutally, and finding refuge in lashing out at Bellamy instead. It had been him to kick the crate from below Murphy's feet. He made it clear that he was no better than the actual murderer. Right now, it wouldn't have surprised Clarke if Bellamy had shown her how it was done — which, he didn't. His words were taken out of context, but he did say them.

"What the hell is she talking about?"

"She misunderstood me," he tried to defend.

   Bellamy ran a hand over his face and looked over at Robin for a bare remnants of help, but he got nothing. He didn't blame her, in the long run. She was looking at two murderers. Sighing through his nose, he looked back to the girl at his side. The way she was looking up at him made his chest tighten, she looked just like Octavia.

    "Charlotte..." struggling to find the right words, knowing that if anything else could be held against him then it would be, Bellamy's mind raced, "...that's not what I meant."

    "Bring the girl out!"

    "Please don't let them hurt me!" Charlotte let out a whimper as she peered between her elders.

"Why not?"

They all faced Robin, whom had finally spoke up, their mouths agape as they processed her words. She was glaring down at little Charlotte, seemingly not bothered by the little girl's trembling chin and glassy eyes.

"Why not, Charlotte?" Robin repeated.

"Robin—"

"Why shouldn't we hand you over?" She ignored Bellamy. Robin was angry. Rightfully so, too. They had tried to kill her friend over something he was innocent for, that Charlotte did. No one had stuck up for Murphy when he needed it. The fact he was wanting to get to Charlotte and punish her didn't surprise Robin— he wanted his revenge and the rest of them would be all for it if she wasn't a little girl. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"She's a kid," Finn said.

"She's a killer!" Robin retorted, scoffing at his face. Finn looked disappointed in her actions. She looked back at the girl, "You were gonna let Murphy die!"

"So were you," Bellamy stepped forward and narrowed his eyes at her, "He looked to you for help and you just said it was his knife."

Almost deathly, Robin felt her demeanour darken. He was right, in a way — she hadn't defended him like she should have. She was as bad as the rest of them. When Murphy was begging them to try and believe him, she didn't listen. She went with the facts. She was a shitty friend, and she felt guilty for that. Really guilty. But she was not the one who demanded justice and caused an uproar from their team of a hundred criminals; that was all Clarke. And Robin didn't let the crowd pressure her to float him— Robin tried to stop that as best as she could. Bellamy didn't. He went in full throttle.

Robin shoved him.

"At least I didn't kick the crate!"

"Enough," grabbing her arm, Finn tugged her back.

"Whatever," Bellamy's dirty look lasted for a moment, his stare drifting to his hand on her elbow, and then he turned to all of the group with his hands on his hips. "Look: if you guys got any bright ideas, speak up." No one did, "Now you stay quiet!"

"Those are your boys out there," Finn snapped at him. He was still appalled at the situation; he hadn't been there when the camp strung Murphy up for dead. Finn couldn't believe it, it wasn't right.

"This is not my fault," pointing a finger at himself, Bellamy was getting real sick of spacewalker. It was kind of his fault, he hadn't stopped anyone from floating Murphy and he had been the one to send him to his death, but he hadn't wanted anyone to know about it in the first place. "If she had listened to me—" he jabbed a finger at Clarke, "—those idiots would all still be building the damn wall!"

Fair point.

"You wanna build a society, princess? Let's build a society, then. C'mon— bring her out!"

"No!" Charlotte lurched forward in fear, clutching onto Bellamy at his jacket sleeve. He looked down at her in shock, his face falling soft. "Please, Bellamy."

He sighed, "Charlotte, hey— it'll be okay."

"Bring her out!"

"What do we do?" Robin asked the question they were thinking, knowing that they were still to make a decent plan. As angry as she was, she knew they couldn't give Charlotte over to Murphy. While Robin wasn't convinced he would actually hurt her, she didn't want to risk another mob mentality. Finn was right: she was a kid. "Let's use those braincells, you guys don't have."

"Not helping, birdy."

"Shut up, Lox!"

"Robin, just be quiet— okay?"

"Watch your mouth, blondie." She glared, "I bite."

"Just stay with them," Bellamy gently rubbed Charlotte's arms in a brotherly way, signalling to Clarke and Finn. "It'll be alright,"

He pulled himself to a stand, face serious, and adjusted the hem of his jacket. Bellamy motioned Robin towards him with his index and middle finger, "Jaws, you're with me."

Her jaw set, "Why?"

"'Cause if Murphy's gonna listen to anyone, it's probably gonna be you." Bellamy's reasoning were correct, although he wasn't too sure how much Murphy would listen to Robin, not after she hadn't fully believed his innocence. "And you bite— remember?"

Rolling her eyes, Robin moved towards Bellamy. She glanced at Charlotte as she did, staring intently at the girl. She looked scared, and remorseful, but Robin couldn't find it within herself to actually sympathise with her. At the end of the day, whether she was kid or not, Charlotte was a killer. Wells Jaha was dead because she'd killed him, and that wasn't okay. You couldn't just kill someone to try and feel better. No one had liked Wells, and not many kids wanted him alive either, but they hadn't killed him— Robin hadn't killed him. It wasn't right. Even if he had gotten her arrested, and even if Robin had hated his guts, she hadn't killed him. She didn't think she could kill him, even if the time had come where she had really wanted to bring down Jaha. Because, when push came to shove, she wasn't a killer. Perhaps Robin was a lot of things, but she didn't think that a murderer was one of them.

Charlotte was.

Robin finally pulled her eyes away from her and followed closely after Bellamy, ducking under the entrance to his tent and letting it fall behind her. The crowd was gathered, waiting for a verdict, and she noticed Murphy's face drop when there was no sign of the tiny blonde.

"Well, well, well—" he drawled, "Look who decided to join us."

"Dial it down and back off," Bellamy glared.

"Or, what?" Murphy shrugged his shoulders. He taunted them with evil eyes, "What ya gonna do about it? Hang me?"

Okay— Robin tried to keep her composure, that hurt. She tried to let the comment roll off her back, but it'd fazed her, just as Robin could tell it had done Bellamy. His strong facade faltered, partially.

"I was just giving the people what they wanted," he justified his actions lamely. While it was true, it was no excuse to hang someone, and that was what made Murphy's glare darken. His eyes drifted to Robin, and he rose a brow.

"What's your excuse?"

"Nothing."

"At least you're honest," he said.

Robin pursed her lips. She didn't want him to die. Couldn't the boy see that? She had tried to stop it, she had, but she knew that it wasn't about the hanging. Murphy was mad because Robin hadn't believed him. They were friends, and she hadn't believed he was an innocent man. Instead, Robin had sided with the princess and the king. Even if she hadn't said those exact words, she had still done it; she hadn't believed him. Robin Loxely was supposed to be the hood. She was supposed to be person for the people, but she hadn't been for him. For the first time ever, Robin hadn't been for Murphy. She hadn't. It was your knife.

"Y'know— that's a good idea," he pointed at Bellamy. "Yeah, why don't we see that, right now?"

Murphy turned to the crowd.

"So, who here wants to see the real murderer hung up?" Arm in the air, he signalled for those who agreed with him to do the same. "All in favor?"

Silence.

Only five arms went up, and they all belonged to Murphy's little cronies that he had gathered. Surprisingly, one arm didn't go up in the air like Murphy and Robin had expected it to. Rather, he stood, arms by his sides and disgust written all over his face.

"Jace?" Murphy frowned.

"They did you dirty," Jace nodded slowly, "But I'm not killing a little kid, Murphy." He disagreed with him, "That ain't right, man."

"I see..." chuckling sadistically, Murphy rubbed his bloody nose with the back of his hand. He stared at the rest of the crowd with disgust, like he was the sane one and they were out of order — and, in a way, he was right. "So, it's okay to string me up for nothing, but when this little bitch confesses, you all let her walk?" Scoffing, John waved his knife around; "Cowards! All of you are cowards!"

"Hey— Murphy!"

"Cowards!"

"Murphy!" Bellamy yelled again, "It's over!"

"Whatever you say, boss." He raised his hands, stepping back to prove his losses.

Nodding once firmly, Bellamy turned to return to his tent. Robin went to go with him, unable to look at Murphy's face any longer in fear of the guilt becoming too much, but she stopped herself short when, in her peripheral, she saw Murphy bend down and grab the closest log of wood from the pile by the camp fire pit. It went so fast.

He swung and Bellamy went down, and Robin wasn't sure if she had screamed or not over the sound of Octavia's yells. She rushed forward to get to her brother and was caught by Murphy, although Jasper wrestled him off to defend her.

   Murphy lunged at Jasper and caught him in the eye with his left hand knuckles. It didn't take long for his body to hit the floor with a thud! being that he was a lanky boy, and Robin heard Monty call for him in the crowd. Octavia rushed to her brother, where lay on the mud completely cold, and Robin could only stand frozen. Her eyes flickered from Bellamy, to Murphy, and then to the tent stood behind her. She debated her options: help Bellamy or warn Clarke and Finn that Murphy was coming for Charlotte. Bellamy or the kid, Bellamy or the kid, Bellamy or the kid, Bellamy or the kid— one last look at the king made her decision for her, she knew who he would choose.

She raced towards the tent but was restrained half way, yanked a metre back by two kids she didn't know the names of. Murphy had a face of thunder as he yanked the tent cover back.

"Dammit—!"

"Hey, let her go!" Jace yelled.

"Where is she?" Murphy whirled around and pointed a knife in Robin's face, signalling to his henchmen to get rid of Jace, who fell to the ground with a groan after an elbow to the throat. "Look— I don't wanna hurt you, Robin! Tell me where the little bitch is!" He yelled, "Tell me!"

"I'm not letting you hunt a child, John!" She retorted, angrily.

"It's justice!"

"No— it makes you as bad as her!"

"What the hell happened to you?" He snarled, "You used to be a fuckin' idol; legend of the skybox; Robin Hood, and all that bull. But you're just a joke!" Murphy laughed, "You and your high and mighty act, acting like you gave a shit about everyone else— where did that go, huh? What happened?"

"John, I—"

"You act like you help kids who need it, but looks like that's just a load of shit. Robin Hood — I steal from the rich and give to the poor; don't worry, I'll save you because I'm a saint; no one dies on my watch; fuck the ark..." mocking her, Murphy watched her eyes as they turned glassy, her face twisting and contorting with rage— or, maybe it was misery, embarrassment, shame. He couldn't tell, "You think you can help everyone, but where was my help? Why didn't I get any help?"

"I tried," she croaked.

"Yeah? Well you shoulda tried harder," he hissed. "Hood, my ass. You're nothing but a fake, Robin."

After a moment, Murphy nodded for his cronies to let her go. It was a rough shove, and she fell to her knees, and Robin watched in an empty daze as they left.

"Charlotte!" Murphy yelled into the air, "Charlotte, I know you can hear me! And when I find you, you're gonna pay!" He waved for his group to follow behind him and into the woods, "C'mon! I'm gonna find you! You can run, but you can't hide bitch!"

Robin sat still.

Her face crumpled, and soon enough she was fighting against an irritating prickling sensation behind her eyes. His words stung, and they stung so much because it was John. They burned deep, hitting her with an unbearable weight on her chest and shoulders, leaving her unable to breathe. Maybe he was right— maybe Robin Loxely was a fake, a joke. She had preached to Wells about helping people that needed it, the innocent that fell victim to ark systems designed to benefit the wealthy, that his father was a huge dick who killed the ones she tried to save. But, in reality, Robin Loxely was a fake. And the hood was a fake. Murphy had been right: if Robin really cared, if she really tried to save kids who needed her help, then Robin would have stopped them from hanging him. Robin would have believed him before it got that far. Robin would have done something, but she hadn't. She failed him, and she failed the hood.

"Robin?"

"Lil' red— ya there?"

Everything suddenly came back, and she blinked. Her head fell to a tilt, and she looked up at Jace and Miller who had knelt down in front of her.

"Yeah..." she stumbled back to her feet and sniffled.

When she stood, she was able to see Bellamy's body still strewn across the floor. Octavia and Jasper were by his side, the former a piece of cloth pressed against Bellamy's head and the latter with a piece of material against his own eye. Bellamy was still out cold; it made her seethe with rage: fucking John!

"He's going after them..." Robin hissed.

She blinked back any remaining tears building in her eyed as she set her jaw.

Murphy might have been right— maybe Robin was a fake, and maybe she was doing a shitty job of being the hood, and maybe she was going to fail helpless kids just as she had failed him. But, there was something he was wrong about: she hadn't failed, yet.

Robin still had her hood.

And, as long as Robin had her hood, she was the hood. She was the hood as much as she was Robin Loxely: engineer, and generally smart kid. Robin and the hood were the same person. They were the same person from the day that she had gotten caught, and the day Wells Jaha had unveiled her true identity. But, more than that, she and the hood had been the same very person from the second Robin had been handed that jacket. She was the hood, and she planned to go down fighting. Robin wasn't a failure — Robin was only getting started.

Without warning, Robin span on her heel and marched towards the direction Clarke and Finn had likely taken Charlotte in. Robin didn't like the little girl, but she couldn't let her get hurt — she was a kid; the hood wouldn't have let her get hurt. If Robin was going to be a better version of the hood, then this was the place to start; if she was going to prove Murphy wrong, then she had to save Charlotte.

"Where are you going?" Jace called, "Loxely?"

"To play Robin Hood!" Robin yelled over her shoulder, tugging her hood over her hair. "Tell him to follow me when he wakes up!"

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