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.*･｡. HOOD! .*･｡.
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017.
EMOTIONS,
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As soon as they made it back to camp, Robin made a beeline for the dropship and ignored any calls for her. Monty was nearly done with the wristbands and, as a means to feel significantly less useless, Robin Loxely did what she always did best.

Robin got her ass back to work.

   Monty had made fantastic leeway on communications while the group had been gone. So much, that it made Robin feel a little bit proud — that is, underneath all the numbness she felt, from that day.

   She was good at burying feelings. Robin Loxely seldom thought about her days before becoming ark legend; the hood. And that was all because it made her much too sad, when she didn't like feeling any kind of emotion— especially not sad. In fact, Robin was better at being emotionless than she was being emotional. She always had been, and always would be. Emotions didn't come very naturally to her, like they did with most. Feeling sad was a waste of time and as far as Robin was concerned, feeling sad was for losers.

Emotions were for babies.

At least, that's what she had learned. Tears got you nowhere in a world that was built against you. The ark wasn't made for the less fortunate — like the people in mecha and factory stations, who did the most work and got given nothing in return for their efforts. No money, no respect. Growing up in a place that enabled struggles to live, giving you nothing while the children a couple of stations over had everything, made you a teary ten year old at the best of times; as a kid, Robin could never understand it. Why didn't they deserve the nice things that alpha kids got? What made them less deserving? For a long time, Robin had cried. She cried, cried, and cried. Very often. That was what kids did when they felt hard done by. And, as she got older and her mother passed away, her tears became more frequent, and harder to console. Until the day came, that they had no more room for tears.

Her father wasn't good with tears. He told her that crying wasn't going to change anything. He was right, too; crying didn't change a single thing. When she wished she had nicer clothes, she didn't get them. When she couldn't go to the teenage masked ball, she didn't magically get a ticket. And when her mother died, she didn't come back to life. Crying didn't fix any of those things. It didn't work.

Daniel Loxely had told his only daughter to channel all her tears into something a lot more worthwhile. And she did exactly that, but not in the way he had probably intended — her father meant tears into engineering, but Robin had other ideas.

Instead, Robin put emotions aside in favour of stealing.

It helped for a little while. But it was truly cathartic when Robin gave it to those around her, rather than keeping it for her own self.

Perhaps her father hadn't aimed for her to suppress emotions by becoming a thief, but it had worked. Robin stopped crying. And in this moment, when she felt like breaking down all over again, she'd taken his advice — Robin channeled her tears into something else, and it wasn't stealing this time; there was nothing to steal; rather, it was time for her to take his intended advice and finally channel tears into her work. She was a good engineer, a really good one, and that emotion only seemed to make her better. Between her and Monty, the wristband communications were completed not long after the deadline they had promised. Maybe Robin should have listened to her father all along and put her tears into engineering. Maybe it would have worked out better.

"Blondie?"

Clarke didn't turn.

She continued to stare down at Wells' grave, body rigid. Taking her silence at face value, Robin decided to stay quiet. Slowly, boots careful, Robin walked over and sat by Clarke's side.

Honestly, Robin wasn't sure why she sat.

She probably wasn't welcome but Clarke made no sign of telling her to leave, so she stayed where she was. Robin didn't like Clarke, and she certainly hadn't liked Wells Jaha, but he was dead. Gone. It felt disrespectful to stand there and hover. Plus, Robin knew exactly how it felt to grieve. She was pretty much an expert, by now. And, if it were her, maybe she would have appreciated someone sitting. As much as she despised Clarke Griffin, Robin would let her sit down.

   Together, the two lingered in silence. The night was cold, and all was dead, and the quiet was palpable.

   Robin's intent had been to locate Clarke and Finn, the latter was usually found beside the blonde, and bring them to the dropship as her and Monty's demonstration of their new communications was about to commence. But, Robin supposed that could wait. Comms could wait; grief couldn't.

   Wells didn't get extra time.

   Life hadn't been so generous.

   Lips pursed, Robin let her eyes flicker to Clarke. She wore blank facial expressions that didn't change as she gently stroked her hand against the flowers on Wells' grave.

    "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." Robin said.

    "You hated Wells," Clarke's voice was hoarse, but she turned to look at Robin for the first time since she had taken a seat. Her eyes were narrowed, but not in anger; rather, confusion. "Why would you be sorry?"

    "I dunno," she shrugged.

And it was true, she didn't know. Robin had no reason to be sorry for Wells' death. She hadn't killed him. Wells didn't deserve any type of apologies, either. Not from Robin — he had gotten her arrested and sent to the ground, ensuring her inevitable death regardless of the hand she was dealt in her fate, so she supposed that — in a sick and twisted way — they were finally even.

   Sure, he didn't deserve to die. But, he had it coming. Whether that was his own fault, or the fault of his father, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was both. Either way, Wells Jaha had been a dead boy walking as soon as he stepped foot on earth. There was a scarlet target painted on his back from day one. The whole camp had it out for him, and in a way, it was lucky that he hadn't been killed sooner. Charlotte's actions had been wrong, but she had only sped up the inevitable. It was a guaranteed death, and now she was dead too, and Murphy's life would be so grim that he may as well have been dead, so Robin could only figure that everything had finally come round full circle.

    "Just feels like the right thing to say," Robin admitted.

    "It isn't worth anything," Clarke shook her head and gave her a simple shrug.

   Robin nodded. It was fair. She hadn't expected it to. Sorry didn't bring people back from the dead, and she didn't want it to. No one wanted Wells Jaha back, other than Clarke; he was better off three feet under ground. Wells Jaha was better off dead. Cruel but it was equally as true. He just was.

Maybe he just wasn't made for the ground.

Maybe it wasn't ready for him, yet.

Maybe, in a weird way, Wells Jaha deserved much more.

    "But..." Clarke pursed her lips together and glanced at Robin a second time. Her eyes were glassy and her tone was soft; she took a moment to clear her throat, "...thanks."

   Robin nodded.

    "Comms are finished," she said.

    "Really?"

    "Really." Robin confirmed, "We're gonna kick it off."

    "Great, I'll find Finn and be there in five." Clarke's emotion all dried up, soaking like a sponge, and she set out a plan. Robin gave her a simple grunt of approval and pushed herself from the dirt, a indication that she was leaving. As she brushed the mud away with her palms, dusting off her pants, she turned on her heel to head to camp but was stopped as Clarke called out her name; "Robin?" As the thief turned back and rose a brow, Clarke was suddenly unsure if her words were appropriate. She sighed and lifted her gaze, eyes meeting Robin's in the middle, "For what it's worth..." Clarke tried to sound confident, but her voice was different to usual. She wasn't playing leader. Instead, Clarke sounded genuine. Apologetic. Casting a glance at Wells' grave, she finally choked it out; "...I'm sorry that we got you arrested."

    "It's not worth anything," Robin confessed after a brief pause, a nod in her head as she turned on her boots to leave. "But, thanks."

————

    "Hey,"

    "Jace," Robin rose her eyebrows. "Hi."

    "I heard Jasper and Octavia talking about wristbands," he gave an awkward nod to the two teenagers he had trailed in behind. An evident blush lay on his cheeks, "Is it true? We can radio the ark?"

    "We were just about to try..." she trailed off, swaying on her heel and scratching her neck.

   It had been awkward between them, since she had returned with the others back to camp without Murphy. Robin wasn't certain how close he and Jace were, but she guessed they had become friends in the skybox. Good enough friends that on earth, she had only really seen them together. Jace knew what had happened, out there; both Bellamy and Clarke had explained it to the rest of camp in light of questions some kids posed. Jace seemed smart, also. Chances were, if he was as clever as Robin assumed, he knew what would come of John Murphy. But, much like Robin, Jace simply opted against any desire to speak about it. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who chose to deal with their emotions by pretending they didn't exist, instead.

   Noted.

   He nodded, "Cool."

     "Yeah— cool," Robin peered over at Monty, who was adjusting a few last things before they tested out the communications for the first time. She returned her stare to Jace and looked up at him, her eyes shiny with unspoken emotion. "You wanna join us?"

    "I'd like that," Jace smiled, bashfully.

    "Lord Loxely!"

    "Shut your face, spacewalker." She shot him a glare, looking at the boy from over her shoulder, then turned back to Jace. "Be fast. We don't have all day, kid."

    "I'm not a kid—"

   Robin didn't wait for him to finish. Rather, she turned and made her way back to the wristband. He followed, taking a stance beside Jasper and Octavia, both whom smiled at him and then returned a hopeful eye to the two apprenticeship engineers. They both looked fit to combust, and even Clarke looked excited as she hovered, eyes staring at the contraption from over Monty's right shoulder. Robin made sure to budge past her with unnecessary force.

   Together, Monty and Robin double checked everything. Neither of them had finished their apprenticeship with Sinclair, but on the ground, they were the best shot the hundred had of contacting the ark. They were their only chance. And it looked as though Clarke, Finn, Jasper and Octavia had been right to instil their faith in both of the kids with wires in their hands and intelligence oozing out of them. Monty Green and Robin Loxely were smart. Really smart. It was impressive. And, as far as anyone else was concerned, they had just proven themselves as two of the best engineers the ark had ever seen. They were good.

    "Will we be able to talk, to them?"

    "No," Monty answered. "More like morse-code."

    "They should still understand us," Robin added on. "It's not all that hard."

    "Smart," Clarke said.

    "Yeah— well it's all thanks to Robin." Monty informed the rest of the teenagers, smiling when she rolled her eyes at him. "Taught me everything, here. She's the reason we even managed any of this."

   For the first time in a long while, Robin felt her cheeks warm up, a pink colour caressing the skin and licking at the tops of her ears. It wasn't often that she accepted flattery; it usually brushed off her back, but something about the way Monty had said it, had made it hard to ignore.

    "Hardly."

    "Seriously, Robin." His tone was firmer, still honest. "Take your credit, just this one time. It was all you."

    "I'll take my credit when I talk to Sinclair," she spoke earnestly, her mind focused on their end result. At that, Monty nodded. The words meant more to him, than to anyone else. He knew that they were like family. He had always adored Robin like his own child. It was no wonder she wanted to talk to him. "Right— I think we're all set." Robin adjusted one final wire, "Let's do this."

As she reached for the wire, she felt Monty nudged her with the point of his elbow. He jutted his jaw to the left and Robin followed his movement, her eyes landed upon Jasper. He was watching with so much hope that it hurt her chest. Poor kid. His first week on the ground had been rough — he had been speared in the chest and it had very nearly killed him. Robin didn't need Monty to speak any words for her to understand what he was insinuating; out of all the hundred delinquents, he was probably the most eager for the radio to work. After all that he had been through in the last five days the kids had been on earth, maybe he deserved to feel a little hope. As much as Robin wanted to talk to Sinclair, and as badly as she ached to be the one to connect them to the ark after a week of trying, she knew that Jasper deserved it more.

"Hey— goggles," she got his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna do the honors?"

He blinked. For a moment, Jasper thought he had heard her all wrong. But, when her face didn't change and Octavia slapped him on the arm excitedly, he realised he hadn't imagined it.

"Really?" Eyes wide, the boy pointed at himself. Robin nodded with an eye roll, although her lips twitched up at the corner, and it took no time for Jasper to nod wildly. He took the wire from her in a swift movement, and smiled at her and Monty with the most joy; he hadn't smiled like that, in days.

"That port, right there." Monty showed him.

From behind her, Finn squeezed Robin's shoulder. She paid him no mind for the action. He was touchy, and affectionate, and she'd found herself getting used to it. It seemed that somehow, Finn was always touching Robin in some way. And, honestly, she didn't mind. It was familiar, and friendly.

"You got this, Jasper!"

He grinned at Jace's encouragement, and took in a breath. They watched in anticipation as he plugged the wire into the port with a light click!

But then, it all started to go wrong.

Robin yelped as the wire popped and sparked. She shielded both her eyes with her arm and quickly pushed Jasper aside, grabbing a hand around the wire and giving it a firm yank before it burst into flames. At the same time, Monty stood to his feet and glanced over the controls, his head falling when he realised the lack of lights; no lights meant no power, which meant no ark. He looked at Robin, a crestfallen expression on his face, but she shook her head. He had to be wrong. They had done everything they were supposed to — Monty had to be wrong.

She began fiddling with wires, hands trembling as they flew from piece to piece, but she was met with the harsh reality when she felt a strange sting on her wrist at the same time Clarke's old wristband started to smoke. Robin glanced down at it and her heart sank, the organ finding the very pit of her stomach.

"What the hell?" Octavia said.

"What happened?" Jace asked, eyes wide with worry.

"It didn't work..." words a murmur, Monty shook his head and pursed his lips. "I think— I think we just fried all the wristbands."

A deafening silence encompassed them. Robin's face was blank, eyes glassy, and she found herself stating at the wristband emptily. She heard someone storm out of the dropship and assumed it was Finn, judging by the new stream of cold air on her back, and soon Clarke followed after him. Jace and Octavia followed Jasper as the boy sank down the wall, threading his hands through his hair, and Monty laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

It didn't help.

Robin shoved him off.

She suddenly snapped, grabbing the wristband and thrusting the object across the room in anger.

They all flinched, eyes wide, watching as Robin lost it. They had yet to see her show any true emotion, any vulnerability, but there she was: finally emoting, exploding, losing her shit and finally giving into the ache in her chest.

"Stupid—!" She shrieked, storming over and kicking the item in any direction that resulted in a metallic smack! It was useless now, a piece of scrap. "Stupid, freakin' pile of crap! Stupid! Stupid!"

"Hey—"

"Get off me!" Robin hissed at Jace, pushing him back with both her palms on his chest. He tried to calm her but she glared, "Calm? Calm— bullshit! I can't be calm!" She yelled, "That was it! Our one shot at contacting the ark, and now it's gone!" They all watched in despair, but she continued. "The radio, the wristbands— it's gone! You got family up there, Jace? Yeah— well I hope you said goodbye because they think you're dead! They think we're all dead!" Robin knew her words were cruel. None of them had got to say goodbye, and now she was forcing it into his face, but she couldn't help it. He took a step back, hurt by the blow, but she continued; "We are dead to them, and they're not coming after us! We're all alone! We're all alone, and now we're gonna die! Do you get that, Jace?"

It was tense when she stopped.

Jace nodded once, "Yeah— I get that."

He bumped her shoulder as he passed, storming out of the ship in a manner similar to Finn.

Robin pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, feeling the unwanted prickling sensation in the space between her sockets and her brain.

Wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jacket, Robin ignored it when Monty called out for her and instead left the dropship. She'd no idea where Jace went but Robin couldn't bring herself to get up and go after him, so she stumbled down the ramp and marched to a familiar tent. Robin barged in without warning, and it made him jump, eyebrows knotted together— exactly who Robin wanted to locate.

"Birdy?"

"Take it off."

"What?" Bellamy was confused.

"I want it off," she said.

He stepped away from the equipment he was sorting and stared at her outstretched wrist, "Sorry, angel. I don't do that, anymore."

"I don't care what you do, Blake. I want the damn thing off, and I want it off now." Robin demanded, giving him the best glare that she could muster with her red eyes. He shook his head, and she felt herself begin to tremble, "Seriously, Bellamy! I'm asking you: take a hint and take it it off!"

"I'm not gonna do that," he said. "You don't want that."

"You don't know what I want!"

"I know you wanna contact the ark," Bellamy shot back. It was then he noticed her teary eyes, "Hey, are you—?"

"It's useless! There is no contacting the ark," she spat. Before he could ask, Robin spoke again; "We tried, and we fried all the damn wristbands— they're useless!"

He stayed quiet.

"So, I guess you got what you wanted. The wristbands are gone and the ark think we're all dead," Robin wasn't blaming him. This wasn't his fault, it was hers. "All because I couldn't do it! Because I wasn't good enough, and now they think we're all dead." Her eyes started to sting and her breathing grew laboured, all while Bellamy watched with something unknown in his stare. "Sinclair said it was all down to me, and I had to make sure they knew we were alive, so they could follow. But I let him down," she felt a sob tear her from the back of her throat and Robin let it go freely, "I failed him! I was supposed to fix everything but I let him down! And— and now he thinks I'm dead!" She cried, "Him, and my dad— they— they both think I'm dead!"

Bellamy didn't know what to say.

He had never expected Robin Loxely to burst into his tent, tears in her big eyes and too much self-blame to swallow. She was usually so poised, put together, emotionless. But there she was: stood in front of him, sobbing messily, hurting beyond relief. In front of him.

Bellamy was no stranger to guilt. It smothered him every day that he lived through, and never failed to haunt his dreams. He had far too many things to feel guilty for, more than he could count, but he knew this wasn't one Robin should be losing sleep over. She wasn't accountable. Sure, she was the one who had been working day and night to get that radio done, but she wasn't at fault. The ark would think they were all dead, and those kids wouldn't get the chance to talk to their families who now thought they had lost their children, and her loved ones would think she was gone, but it wasn't her fault. Nothing was.

Robin had done nothing but try and contact the ark since they'd reached the ground. He suddenly felt guilty for ripping the spliced wires from the control panel, on the first day. Bellamy didn't want the ark to follow them down, that was no secret, but standing there and watching Robin cry didn't fill him with the kinds of satisfaction he had expected to feel when the wristbands were gone.

There was a little bit, but it wasn't enough.

Unable to find words, Bellamy did the only thing he could think of doing; what he used to do when Octavia was little and upset but nothing he said made the tears stop. Bellamy pulled Robin into his arms and held her, tightly.

Robin wasn't one for physical contact but, as soon as she found herself pressed against Bellamy's chest, she crumbled into pieces.

 
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