⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

016.
I CAN'T SAY THE SAME.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
   On the first occasion that Robin Loxely had crossed paths with John Murphy, it was as the hood. She had bumped into him on her way out of alpha station when he was leaving medical. He had an alarmingly purple eye.

But, she didn't ask about it.

They had collided in the hall, and she had promptly told him to watch where you're fuckin' walking! from beneath her hood, then raced down the hallway before the guard could see where she went. The next time they saw each other, after that, was on another day of her stealing. It was when the hood was fresh, new and upcoming, and all the talk of her was only just beginning. Robin was a beginner; that meant she was rusty, still learning the ropes, and unexperienced. It also meant Robin wasn't as thorough when she removed her hood, and she learned that the hard way. Because, when she removed that hood after a successful heist of Go-Sci, Robin found a boy her age staring at her, mouth agape, sparkly eyed. She learned to be better.

All thanks to John Murphy — the kid who showed her how easy it was to get caught; the thirteen year old who became her one ally on the entire ark.

That experience taught her an awful lot.

So did John.

It was a day she would never forget, one day that would live with Robin so long as she breathed. That day, Robin Hood met Little John.

• • •

   "Hey—! Get back, here!"

Robin grinned, face hidden by her hood. There was a certain type of thrill in stealing, then dashing. She enjoyed it more than she enjoyed most other things in life, which was a sad statement for a thirteen year old. Life on the ark was dull and stealing gave her a surge of adrenaline she never thought she would ever be able to experience — but, stealing gave her that. It was addictive, and she had become an addict.

Her legs pumped harder as she flew through the hallways.

She was only short, but she was quicker than most kids her age. She wasn't a star athlete, not even slightly, but Robin could still run in circles around the guard.

Every time they were close to catching her, Robin would disappear. Just when they thought they could meet her speed, poof! She was gone. That was where it came in handy to be small: hiding was always to her advantage. As long as she could hide, they would never be able to catch her.

No one could.

Robin slipped through the doorway into LOST AND FOUND, located on the outer-wing of Go-Sci, just before the crossroads between mech and factory. She shut the door, carefully.

She pushed it to, just leaving a small crack.

It was enough for her to peer through and see the guard rush past, heading in the direction they believed she must have gone, and Robin beamed. When they'd gone, she stood up straight and dusted herself off. Her pockets were full and the material was heavy. The run had been successful, and Robin was eager to head back out tomorrow, but until then, she was done for the day. She turned around and pulled down her hood, brushing through her knotted hair with her fingers in a haphazard motion. Usually, LOST AND FOUND was empty. It was what made it a good hiding place. So,, that was why Robin hadn't expected to see an idiot kid watching her. Robin nearly screamed. She pushed a hand over her lips.

He wasn't much younger than she was. At least, he didn't look it. He wasn't tall; rather, he was scrawny, and his hair was a bit greasy, and he had a hook nose that was crooked on the left side. The kid was watching her with eyes that were so wide she feared they might pop out of his head, his mouth hung open in silent shock.

A part of her wanted to smack him. He looked gormless, and ridiculous, and it made her mad that he had seen her pull down her hood. For a minute, Robin thought he would start yelling to alert the guard — he looked like the kinda kid to snitch — but, upon noticing the sparkle in his eyes, she didn't make a run to the door. Robin stood there instead, and waited to see what he would do, if the kid chose to do anything at all. He was still frozen and yet to say anything; the silence was unnerving, but Robin stood still, all the same. If this kid would be a snitch, he would have started yelling by now. It didn't look like he intended to do anything— he was too still, and silent, and he stared at her with a look that she couldn't quite decipher. It was something she had never seen, before. Robin had never seen that look until that moment. She wanted to know what it meant, and why he was looking at Robin with it.

"Back up!"

The boy jumped, hands in the air.

"Hey, hey— put the knife down! Put it down!" He whisper-yelled, tilting his head away from her weapon. How did she even get that?

"You gonna squeal?" She glared, stepping closer. Robin was smaller by only an inch, and she was the perfect height to hold her penknife to his throat. There was no way she would hurt him, but it was fun to watch him squirm. "Huh?"

"No! No, I swear!"

"You swear?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I swear!" He nodded feverishly, "On my mom's life!"

Robin blinked, her knife immediately coming away from his neck. It struck a chord within her and she could see the truth in his eyes, and so she stepped right twice, and nodded; "Alright, then."

He let out a relieved breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. The kid took a tentative step back and stared her up and down, head to toe, both eyes lighting back up. Something about her excited him, and tried to keep his cool. A big grin swept over his cheeks and soon adorned his face.

"Are you the hood?" He asked.

"The hood?" She echoed, brows furrowed, then slowly nodded. "Yeah— I guess I am," Robin said. "Who are you?"

"John Murphy," the kid — John Murphy — introduced.

"John Murphy..." looking him over, Robin nodded to herself. He looked like a scruffy kid, but he seemed trustworthy enough. Perhaps it was merely childish naivety, or maybe her instincts were good for a thirteen year old— either way, a hand stuck out in front of her, and she quickly realised it was her own. "Robin Loxely," she greeted.

His smile grew wider, a gap in his front teeth, and John Murphy pushed his hand into hers. It was clammy, and bigger than hers, but Robin didn't mind it.

"You're pretty."

"I can't say the same, John."

• • •

   Robin jumped over a log, keeping her feet light with the landing, and adjusted her hood as it slipped. She continued on through the woods with sheer determination within every single stride she took.

   It was late, by now.

   The sun had set a while ago. She couldn't be sure how long, since her focus was on finding Charlotte before Murphy had, but it had been long enough for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moon hung in the night sky and would peak through the trees with every few steps, and served as the only minimal light she had.

So far, Robin had no luck. She hadn't even come close to finding the trio; Clarke, Finn and Charlotte — to which she hoped was all down to the fact they had hidden so well, and not because Murphy and his boys gotten to them first. Or worse, grounders. Robin hoped the latter hadn't occurred, although she supposed she wouldn't be needing to deal with princess anymore. Perhaps that was appealing, and maybe she thought on it for much too long, but it was no secret that Robin didn't like Clarke. It would be a reasonable sacrifice, in her eyes. Robin may have been trying to help Charlotte, but there was no need for her to help Clarke Griffin; she was still a privilege; a member of the elite. The day she helped Clarke was also the day she would die, she was certain.

She stalked her way down the unmarked path, both listening and looking for anything that could direct her toward them. There were vague yells, way off in the distance, and Robin picked up her pace. Murphy wasn't far — he would be hot on their tails at some point, and Robin was certain it wouldn't take long. He was smarter than he looked. Little doubt filled her with that one; she needed to get to them first. That was the only way she could help.

   Robin didn't think he would harm her.

   Murphy wasn't mentally sound, but he wasn't a murderer. Sure, he was no saint, but still.

   Although, John Murphy had always been unpredictable. He was a loose-canon, a liability, and borderline insane. That didn't mean he was a killer, however. At least, Robin hoped for the best of him; she didn't want him to ruin that.

   She didn't want him to hurt a little girl. That wasn't who he was, and she knew it. Murphy might have caused a hundred fights, and he might have threatened to kill Wells Jaha and Jasper Jordan, and he might have set fire to a member of the guard's chambers, but it didn't mean anything— not if he didn't let it. If he hurt Charlotte, then he was everything that everyone said he was. He would prove them all right. Deep down, Robin believed he was still the boy that she stumbled across in LOST AND FOUND. Murphy was the same kid who had been amazed by the hood, who had watched with those big eyes as she turned around, who still had some hope. He had to be.

So, Robin kept going. She kept walking through the darkness, an odd stumble here and there, trying to prevent something awful, far before it happened.

Robin couldn't play god; she hadn't been able to choose who got to live and who got to die, down here — not when it came to Atom.

But, she had tried to help Jasper and succeeded.

Jasper was a lost cause, and yet Robin had chosen to go and find that seaweed. She had chosen to help Jasper. And, thankfully, it all paid off. He was up and talking, and walking, and alive. Robin had chosen to help him; she had chosen to, and Jasper had lived.

Perhaps she could do the same for Charlotte.

Who knew?

Robin kept walking until she stopped, hearing a snap! behind her, not too far away. She froze, body rigid, and listened for any noise if it were to follow. It could have been Finn, Clarke and Charlotte, or likewise it could have been Murphy. She wasn't sure. But, Robin was equally as smart as she was unsure. There was no way she was about to call out and ask who it was — she wasn't a total idiot. You don't want to be murdered? Don't call out for a murderer! Easy! It wasn't so difficult, was it?

   Carefully, Robin slipped her knife from her pocket and held onto it tightly.

   She slowly took a step forward and then spun back around, body lurching and arm swinging the knife in an upward motion. It came to a stop when the sharp edge of the blade touched a neck, which was attached to a body, which had belonged to a familiar man. Just as she lunged at him, he had done the same; a hand gripping onto one hip and the other holding his knife against her cheek.

   Robin raised her brows.

    "Wanna take the knife away from me, princess?"

    "Wanna take yours away from me?"

   Rolling his eyes, he did as instructed, taking away from her skin and shoving it back into the depths of his pocket. Robin smirked a devilish smirk and mirrored all his movements with her own knife.

   His hand lingered on her hip, spinning her to face the other way, then moved it to the small of her back. She didn't enjoy when men put their hands on her and conducted her like a robot, but Robin's words fell short when his finger brushed the hem of her shirt. With quick steps, he ushered her on.

    "You shouldn't be out here, alone."

    "Technically, I'm not alone." Robin scoffed, "You're here. And I know Murphy and his bitches are out there; so..."

    "Cute," he mocked.

    "C'mon, Blake." As she adjusted her hood, Robin kept her tone low and rolled her eyes when he shot her a sharp look. "You wanna find your kid, or what?" Bellamy didn't reply to her. "Yeah— that's what I thought. You need me."

"Shut up and keep your voice down," Bellamy said.

Robin was keeping her voice down, but she didn't correct him. It was only because he knew she was right and needed a way to gain control, again. Bellamy knew he needed Robin's help — and, if he didn't, it's not as if he would find her any quicker alone. The more people to fight off Murphy, the better. She may not look it, but she was a force. And, while he was taller, something told Bellamy that Murphy would struggle against her force. But, he supposed it was strange and oddly convenient: Robin was friends with Murphy and she had been tempted to give Charlotte over. It made him press his hand further into her back and drag her into him.

"How do I know this isn't a ploy?"

"How hard did you hit your head?"

"You were tempted to hand Charlotte over," Bellamy narrowed his eyes, "How do I know you're not just gonna find her and give her up?"

"I'm not gonna kill a little girl," she glowered at him. "I'm not a monster, Blake. I actually care about people," she hissed. "Do you?"

Rather than replying, Bellamy looked ahead of them with purse lips. She wasn't wrong, technically. Bellamy didn't get about many people. Only for his sister, Octavia. But, he did care about the girl that Murphy was currently threatening. Bellamy cared about little Charlotte — just as he had done Octavia, at that age. She was tiny and scared, and he just wanted to protect her in the way that he ultimately failed Octavia at the masquerade ball. Bellamy had got his little sister caught, arrested, and he would never forgive himself for it; not when he was reminded of it, every time he closed his eyes and saw his late mother. Bellamy couldn't save his mother, and his little sister was caught because of him, but maybe he could save the girl he had found himself warming to. Maybe he could make up for Octavia and his mother, and maybe he could help this kid. But, at the end of the day, Bellamy Blake didn't expect for Robin Loxely to understand any of that.

    "I care that your friend is tryna kill a child," he said.

    "I'm not his keeper," she responded. Her mind ventured to the things Murphy had said to her when Bellamy was out cold. Robin shrugged, face suddenly solemn. "I don't think we're really friends anymore."

   Bellamy glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the best that he could through the darkness, and watched the moonlight graze her cheeks with every other step. He knew Murphy was bound to be angry with Robin — after all, she didn't have his back as much as he would have wanted. But he had a feeling there was more than he knew. Bellamy wondered what he had missed when he was out; Jace mentioned something about Murphy being pissed with Robin and Bellamy was curious to what he had said.

   They seemed unlikely friends.

   He didn't know how Murphy had ended up friends with Robin, it wasn't the most likely pairing, but he supposed criminals formed a bond like no other.

   Then again, they weren't so dissimilar. Sarcastic, blunt, uncaring for most others down here. They cared for each other — although Robin didn't show it — and that was it. Murphy had told Bellamy that he had known Robin was the hood, before she was handed in by Clarke and Wells, but he had never said how. And, while maybe curiosity could kill the cat, satisfaction brought it back. Once again Bellamy Blake was curious about Robin Loxely— or, call him nosy.

    "What was the deal with you and Murphy, anyway?" Glancing at her again, Bellamy averted his eyes ahead of them.

   She frowned, "What do you mean?"

    "You guys seem thick as thieves," he smirked at his own words and peaked a look at her. She shot him a glare and Bellamy chuckled a deep chuckle, right under his breath. He shrugged his shoulders in a careless manner, though he was eager to know — he had been as soon as Murphy had told him they had history, "Just wanna know what makes a girl like you hang around guys like Murphy," it was a fair comment, but Robin still scowled. Something about it rubbed her up the wrong way. Bellamy noticed; "What's with the sour face now, birdy?"

    "Girls like me?"

    "Pleasant," he taunted.

    "Cute," Robin recycled his prior words, although her scowl was less prominent. "He wasn't always so Murphy, ya know? He was an alright kid," she sighed, "He still is. Just lost his way, is all. We've all got our demons," Robin stole a glance at the taller boy.

    "You're not wrong," Bellamy agreed, stiffly.

   Silent tension.

   Robin noticed his shoulders tighten, rigid in stance. He stepped over a log and subconsciously turned, helping her up over it before striding ahead. She followed, waiting a long minute, then relented.

    "We were kids," her words gained his attention, and he slowed a tad, lingering and waiting for her to catch up with him. Feeling the vulnerability dawn on her, Robin crossed both arms over her chest and kept her face relatively blank. "I bumped into him after a loot. He didn't snitch, so I guessed we were good. Believe or not, he was a cute kid."

    "I'll believe that when I see it."

   She snickered, softly.

    "After that, we kept finding each other. In hallways, and he was in a couple a' classes. I dunno how, or when, but we became friends and then he was stealing with me, sometimes."

Bellamy resisted the strong urge to tell her that his thick as thieves comment had been correct, and instead tried to imagine two little versions of Robin and Murphy running around the ark. He wasn't able to really envision it, but Bellamy supposed that was all because Murphy was a borderline psychopath and not innocent enough to be a kid, and Robin was too stoic. She carried herself maturely, an effortless stoniness to her that he had never seen on any seventeen year old girl, and he was positive she never smiled. Some people in the world had seen a lot, and Robin struck him as one of them; he didn't think she was innocent, and soft, and joyous as Octavia had always been. Robin was different. Perhaps she, like Bellamy, simply knew how cruelly the world worked.

"He just kinda got it, I guess..." Robin said, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter, now."

He didn't say anything. Partially because he didn't know what to say, but mostly because the thump! of footsteps coming towards the both of them had prevented any words from escaping. Bellamy put an arm out to stop her from going any further, to which Robin had the urge to roll her eyes but she fought it. It wasn't the time.

"Murphy!"

After exchanging a look, they pushed onwards and after the little girl. They tried to follow her voice, racing through the woods, feet jumping over tree roots and logs. Her screams got louder, and they had an awful feeling that it wasn't because they were getting closer; what the hell was she doing? Robin grabbed the hem of Bellamy's beat up jacket and used it to keep up with his long strides, but stumbled into his back when he skidded to a sudden stop, swooping the little kid into his arms and covering her mouth.

"What are you doing?" He hissed.

"Charlotte! You can't hide, forever! Don't worry— we won't hurt you!"

Robin swore under her breath and pushed Bellamy further into the foliage they hid behind, trying to keep them out of sight from any passersby. But, so it appeared, Charlotte had other plans: she began to kick and writhe harder, in Bellamy's grip.

"Let me go!"

"I'm trying—" he grunted when she tore his hand from her lips and yelled out even louder, "Hey, hey— we're tryna help you out!"

"I'm not your sister!" Charlotte forced him off her, shaking her head. She watched his mouth drop, and decided to rub salt in the wound; "Just stop helping me!"

He stepped back a minor inch, unable to form any words. There was no way for Bellamy to respond to that. For one of the first ever times, Bellamy Blake was rendered speechless. Octavia was his soft spot and whether Charlotte had known that or not, she had struck a chord within him. Because she was right. Charlotte wasn't his sister; she wasn't Octavia, and yet there he was: helping her like she was; a surrogate scenario of what would have happened if he had helped Octavia, that night — the night she was arrested, Bellamy couldn't do anything. He had failed as an older brother that night, and he'd be damned if he let that happen again. Not to Charlotte.

Taking her opportunity, Charlotte made a quick run for it; "I'm over here! Murphy!"

When Robin dashed after the girl, she decided that her body was moving before her brain. It was like an automatic response for her to grab Charlotte; her eyes flickering to Bellamy before she yanked the kid back by her armpits and slammed a hand over her mouth, because god knows it was giving Robin a headache. Hoisting her in the air as best she could, Robin tried to keep her quiet and hidden. But, when a set of teeth clamped onto the skin of her palm, Robin yelped and shoved Charlotte back into Bellamy.

"Ow! You little—!"

"Are you trying to get us all killed?" Bellamy huffed, exasperated.

"Just go, okay?" Charlotte cried, eyes teary and reflective of the crescent moon in the sky. She peered between them; "I'm the one they want." Shaking her head, the girl turned to Robin. "You said they should give me up, and that's what I'm doing— okay? Robin, you were right!"

This time, Robin was the one stunned.

   Bellamy snapped out of his daze and grabbed Charlotte's arms, pulling her in any direction that was away from the nearing warm glow of torches. She struggled.

    "Okay— okay!" He relented. Bellamy gripped her jacket by the collar and tugged her small body to face him, his eyes serious and dark. It seemed to quieten her, even if only temporarily. As he said it, he meant every word; "Charlotte, listen to me: I won't leave you."

    "Please, Bellamy..." she whispered.

   No one said anything, for a moment. The air was still, tranquil almost, and they seemed to forget what they were doing. Until his voice broke through the clearing, and into their little bubble.

    "Charlotte! Come on out!"

    "Alright— we gotta go!" Robin hissed lowly, snapping them out of it. "We wait any longer and pigtails, over here, is a total goner!"

   Although he didn't appreciate her chosen words, Bellamy sent a nod her way nonetheless. He turned to grab Charlotte's hand, but realised quickly she had already run away. A light groan passed his lips and trailed into the night, and Bellamy rushed to grab her. His grip didn't loosen this time and, with the minor help of Robin, the child was hoisted over his shoulder and they were back to racing in the darkness. They had no idea where they were going, though the two supposed anywhere was better than there.

    "Murphy! I'm over here!" Charlotte continued to scream, even when Robin sent a frustrated glare.

    "Will you shut up?" Robin seethed.

    "Just let me go! Why won't you let me go?" Charlotte begged, a tear slipping down her cheek before it rolled the across her face; it was an odd angle to cry at. "You wanted me gone, Robin! Let me! Let me go!"

   Her stomach turned. Had she really been that eager to hand over a kid? The same kid who was sobbing, right in front of her? Sure, it was Charlotte who was the murderer, but what kind of person did that make Robin? Willing to give up a child to a boy who seemed to have lost all sense of moral values, all of his conscience...

   Who was she?

   Robin couldn't give up Charlotte. At the end of the day, Finn was right. She was just a kid. A kid who had made a mistake, and now seemed willing to pay the price. Robin didn't forgive her; Charlotte, although young, still knew right from wrong. She knew it was wrong go kill someone. She knew it was also wrong to let someone else, an innocent party, take the blame. But, maybe Charlotte just wanted to sleep; slay her demons; listen to Bellamy. Honestly, Robin wouldn't have been too surprised. Desperation made you do stupid things, a lot of stupid things that turned into bad things and Robin knew she had done a fair few bad things, during her lifetime. Perhaps Robin hadn't murdered Wells Jaha, but Robin wasn't a desperate thirteen year old. Murder was wrong, she needed to be punished, but passing her over to Murphy didn't seem right. She was only a kid. Perhaps kids deserved second chances?

    "Charlotte!"

    "Put me down!" She pounded on his back.

   Trees started to disperse, and the trio found another clearing in the distance. They followed it but soon were cut short. Robin felt Bellamy's free hand on her stomach before she saw it — it being a steep drop of the cliff edge, right in front of them. He placed the youngest down, but kept ahold on her jacket, "Dammit! Dammit!"

    "Shit..." Robin croaked.

   Heavy footsteps came from behind them, and Robin turned her body back to the direction they came. She rose a hand to block all the sudden lights.

    "Bellamy!" Murphy yelled, "You can't fight, all of us! Just give her up!"

    "Maybe not..." keeping his tone confident, Bellamy straightened out his back and scowled at them. "But I guarantee I'll take a few of you boys down, with me." He watched Robin as she stepped close, fingers grazing the hilt of her knife from where it sat in her pocket.

    "Two on five," she said. "Sounds fair, to me."

    "Shut up, Robin." Murphy sneered at her, "So much for merry men, huh?" He laughed bitterly, "Guess some loyalties don't count."

    "Bite me, John."

    "Bellamy, Robin! Stop!" Clarke.

   Blondie and spacewalker appeared, rushing towards the group balanced on the clifftop with outstretched hands. A small part of Robin was glad to see them. It was small, and she would never tell anyone about it, but it was there. Bellamy had told her that if there was anyone who could talk down Murphy, who he would listen to, it'd be her. However, she wasn't so sure. He seemed impervious to her earlier attempts.

    "This has gone too far," Clarke sighed. "Just calm down. We'll talk about this, okay?"

    "Yeah—" Lips pursed, Robin nodded her head; "She's right." It was strange to hear her agree with Clarke Griffin, and she would be very much dead before it happened again, but Robin ignored all their stares and walked towards Murphy. He wouldn't hurt her; he didn't have it in him. "Let's talk it out, John. We'll—"

   Spoke too soon.

   A strangled gasp passed her lips when Murphy pushed his knife up to her throat, holding it there securely. She raised her arms and obliged when he told her to ditch her knife.

    "Let her go!" Bellamy demanded.

    "Robin!"

    "Loxely—"

    "Shut up!" Murphy barked at the three older teens.

    "John—" Robin tried.

    "You too!" He cut her off, "I'm sick of you playing hero, all the damn time!" Eyes narrowed, he snickered. "We gotta stop meeting like this, hood."

   She tried to meet his stare but noticed that he avoided it. Instead of allowing their eyes to connect, Murphy forced her around, back to his chest, and readjusted his knife to her throat. Robin knew she could try and take him, but Finn's eyes begged not to.

   So, Robin opted for an angry grunt.

    "Fuck you, John."

    "I will slit her throat," he threatened with a firmer grip, and he admittedly almost had Robin fooled. But she knew John, too well.

    "No! Please— please don't hurt her," Charlotte whimpered, her hands clawing at Bellamy to let her past. Her words were much to Murphy's interest, and he nodded his head slowly when she spoke.

    "Don't hurt her?" Her words were an echo, and Murphy gave a nod. It was like he was willing to throw Robin aside as soon as his intentions were achieved, and she wondered if he would do any sort of damage to her, whatsoever. Robin thought not. "Okay, I'll make you a deal: you come with me right now, and I'll let her go."

    "Don't do it," Robin said.

   Charlotte ignored her and tried to step towards Murphy, but she was prevented from doing so when Bellamy grabbed her arms. He wasn't going to let her go anywhere, even if it meant Robin was at risk. She had it covered.

    "Charlotte—"

    "I said don't do it, kid!"

    "No! No—" she cried out, "I have to!"

    "Murphy, this is not happening." Bellamy's tone was gruff and angry, strained against his voice box.

    "Don't do this, Murphy." Clarke added on in an attempt to look calm meanwhile Finn watched the situation anxiously. He couldn't find any words to say.

    "Nah— go on," Robin dared him. "Gut me like a fish, see if it'll fix anything." His grip on her tightened but the knife never cut her throat, and she knew she had called his bluff. John Murphy was an asshole, and a liability, and a borderline psychopath, but he wasn't a killer. He wouldn't kill Charlotte, and he wouldn't kill Robin. She was Robin. He couldn't hurt her, just like she couldn't hurt him, the day they properly met. It had all come full circle, "Yeah, yeah that's right, John—" she chuckled humourlessly, "—you don't have what it takes, do ya? You can't hurt me."

   Angry, he pressed the knife to her throat; she winced.

    "Wanna bet?"

    "Stop!" All eyes fell back on Charlotte. She shook her head, eyes full of something that Robin couldn't quite decipher. It concerned her, nonetheless. Something wasn't right. "I can't let any of you get hurt, anymore. Not because of me..." she trailed off in shame and grief, "Not after what I did."

   Then, she jumped.

   Robin's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her body fell slack, tumbling into Murphy, and the boy surpassingly held her up. She blinked blearily to try and make the world less hazy, but it did little to block out the sound of Clarke's screams as she and Bellamy fell to their knees at the edge of the cliff, staring helplessly down to the bottom as though Charlotte would suddenly come back up. There was no chance.

    "What have you done?" Robin whispered.

   Murphy heard her. Even with her tone quiet, and Clarke's yells loud, he could still hear her. He immediately dropped her, forcing her out of his grasp as though she were hot to the touch. Finn was quick to snap out of his own shock and pull Robin close, into him.

   Slowly, Bellamy looked away from the cliff and turned to look at Murphy. His gaze was deep and murderous, and if looks could kill a man, then John Murphy would have been dead five times over. It would be like killing a cockroach; they always came back. Bellamy's thoughts were much the same apparently, because evil stares didn't suffice. He pried himself up from the ground and readied himself to pounce like a big cat, and only when Murphy uttered his name, did Bellamy lunge at the boy and tackled him to the dirt. He let an eery, strangled yell rip from his throat as he began to beat Murphy for every inch of his life. No one made an effort to stop the pounds of fists and sprays of blood. No one could find it within them. But, ever the one to intervene, Clarke soon snapped out of her grieving and raced towards them; "Bellamy, stop! You'll kill him!"

   Finn let go of Robin to pry Bellamy away from the boy, and she watched with an empty heart as he struggled and batted Finn off.

    "Get off me! He deserves to die!"

    "No!" Clarke denied, "We don't decide who lives and dies! Not down here!"

    "So help me god..." Bellamy spoke through grit teeth, shoulders in a square, on the defense. He pointed at the bloody and bruised boy laying closely behind them, "If you say the people have a right to decide—"

    "No! I was wrong before, okay? You were right," she relented, a finger pointed at his chest. "Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth," she admitted, and Robin wondered if it ran much deeper than hanging Murphy. "But if we're gonna survive down here, we can't just all live by whatever the hell we want— okay? We need rules,"

   He rubbed at his face, tiredly, "And who makes those rules, huh?"
Bellamy wasn't all too enthused by her suggestion, but he knew she was right about it. "You?"

    "From now on, we make the rules. Okay?"

   Robin watched him debate it. Perhaps she didn't know Bellamy, but she could tell that he was mulling over the option by the way it felt like forever that he was tugging his lip between his teeth. Hand on either hip, the man finally made a noise of agreement. Another second passed and he was wiping his brow, suddenly worked up all over again when he caught sight of Murphy from over Clarke's left shoulder. The muscle in his jaw feathered and he ached to batter his face, once more.

    "What, then?" He pointed at Murphy, "We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?"

    "No!"

   For a brief second, Clarke peered at Robin.

    "We banish him," she declared.

   Robin had no reaction. Not when the words echoed through the open air like the flutter of butterfly wings, or when Bellamy hauled Murphy up by his jacket and dragged him back to the cliff edge. It was a precarious motion whereby the latter was dangled over with knees knocking and legs shaking, but Robin still did nothing. Clarke did it instead, and told Bellamy to cut it out.

    "If I ever catch you near camp, we'll be back here. Understand? Good." He threw him back to the ground, "As for the four of you— you can come back and follow me, or go off with him to die." His ultimatum rang through the air like gunshots. Bellamy pointed his finger at them, "Your choice!"

   With that, Bellamy Blake stalked back through the night. It was a no brainer; the four teenagers followed after him like puppies, all tails between their legs and ears down, and Clarke Griffin wasn't a far ways behind. But both Finn and Robin lingered. They weren't able to drag their eyes away from John Murphy and watched as he crawled onto his knees, and wheezed out laboured breaths. After a minute, Finn stepped forwards and dropped a knife at his side. He wasn't the type to leave him out there, alone, defenceless against the grounders. That wasn't who Finn was. He took a few of steps back and kept silent when Robin lowered herself to a crouch, staring at Murphy with a broken stare that Murphy returned. She shook her head, painfully slow.

"I'm sorry."

    "I can't say the same, John."

 
━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀