CHAPTER FIVE
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    EVERYTHING WAS so easy and effortless now that she was on the ground. Her only problems were the possible threat of people coming to ruin that, and with a leader like Bellamy, she didn't see that happening any time soon.

     She sat down in a patch of grass near the tree line of camp, interrupted by a loud voice. "Willow!" Ellie called out, looking absolutely and utterly relieved to see her.

     Willow propped herself up and smiled returning the girl's hug when she leaned down to greet her.

     "Told you it'd be fine, didn't I?" Willow smirked with a gesture to the green paradise around them.

     "Depends on what you're calling fine," Ellie responded, looking nervous. She cast her gaze to the ground and sighed slightly. "This is bad. We need the Ark."

     "What? Were you around last night?" she questioned, looking at Ellie with raised brows. "This is a good thing, Elle. The Ark is who locked us up, who did this to us, the bastards."

     Ellie didn't respond, and Willow honestly didn't expect her to. She had always been a shy girl who didn't voice her opinions very strongly. Especially if she was afraid of the argument that might ensue.

     "She's right. We wouldn't be down here to begin with if it wasn't for them," the girl who she had met the other day, Gray, chimed in. The boy, Rhys, whom she had also met was beside her.

     "Jaha said himself that we're expendable," Rhys state bitterly, looking towards the sky as if that meant that Jaha was looking down on them watching.

     "Right now, I'm more worried about enjoying my time on the ground rather than worrying about that asshole up there," Willow let out breathlessly with a small shrug. "I won't let the Ark ruin this like they ruin everything else. Let's enjoy this."

__________

     The soft light of the fire that centered their camp illuminated the returned "heroes", carrying in Jasper as well as a bountiful dead panther. Bellamy and Murphy heaved in the dead animal and already had people set to work on cooking in as soon as they strode in.

     Clarke's worried eyes never left Jasper, and Finn's never left Clarke. "I need boiled water and strips of cloth," she commanded as she held back the plastic tarp covering the dropship entrance. Willow sauntered over, eyes hovering over the pale, unconscious boy.

     "How is he?" she questioned, making eye contact with Clarke as she watched them carry Jasper into the ship. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and she eyed Bellamy warily when the cheers of the camp echoed his name at the sight of food.

     "Not great," she admitted, something deep inside of her bothered. Willow briefly thought of Monty — it was his best friend. She shook the thought away quickly. "We really could have used your help out there."

     With a quick, meaningful look she disappeared into the ship and Willow turned to face the fire with the shake of her head. Suddenly feeling an irrational fire building up inside of her, she stormed away from the ship and approached the fire that the panther was now being stripped and cooked at.

     "Hey, Firecracker," Bellamy greeted, reveling in all of the positive attention that he was being given. She raised her eyebrows at the nickname questioningly. "If I'm doomed to be Pretty Boy, you're going to have to deal with Firecracker. Care for some food?"

     "A sacrifice I'm willing to make," she smirked back, accepting the stick with skewered panther meat on the end. He held his own and she tapped her stick against his briefly with a nod. "Not a bad job."

     A steadily growing crowd was growing around them, taking off their wristbands in exchange for food. It was a bit low, Willow would admit, but she knew that even the lowest of tactics were effective.

     "Are you in this?" he asked rather suddenly, looking directly into the fire at first before shifting his brown eyes toward hers. "I think we can do this. I just need to know if you'll commit to this. No matter what it takes."

     Smiling deviously, she took a large bit out of the juicy meat that she held in her hands.

     "I wasn't joking about hating the Ark. I'm all in, Pretty Boy."

__________

     Blaring alarms echoed through the room, one after the other. Screen after screen went dark. Handler, Miller, Bragg, Mbege, Wilton, he couldn't keep up with the names of the deceased as quickly as they darkened on the screen.

     "Abby, what the hell is going on?" Desmond demanded gruffly.

     "I — I don't know. I don't know," she stuttered, looking around rapidly at every monitor within her line of sight. "This can't be right."

     "I think we know what this means, Abby," Marcus cut in emotionlessly, turning around to leave the room. Jaha watched on, stoic as ever, jaw clenched as Abby scrambled to find something that would explain why this was happening.

     "No! There are some that are still alive — radiation would be killing each and every one of them! I—I need more time," she responded loudly, slapping her hands on the desk in front of her.

     Desmond sighed and watched the screen, Willow's face having been darkened for a day now. And all he could picture was her dying alone on the ground, with all of that anger she had left with still boiling inside of her.

     Putting his head in his hands and running them across his face, he shook his head and ordered Abby, "Next time anything happens, you call me."

     And he stormed out of the room without another word.

__________

eight months ago
january 4, 2149

Sitting down hesitantly on the chair the the guard pulled out for her, she stared daggers at her father. "What do you want?" Willow snapped, shifting uncomfortably between the handcuffs that restrained her hands.

"I just wanted to talk, Willow, that's all," Desmond explained quietly, eyes pleading for her to cooperate with his wishes.

She scoffed coldly. "What, you wanna ask me what's up in prison? How Clarke is doing? Well, I wouldn't know. Met a real cool guy the other day who's in for murder. It's cold and dark and lonely in the cells," she spat, more infuriated with every word that left her lips. "Is that all? Because they really need me back, with my captivating presence and everything."

"Willow, please. It's not my fault —" Desmond began, trying desperately to reason with her. She laughed loudly over whatever words he was going to say next.

"No? You didn't even try to defend me. Instead you were on Wells' and his side, leaving me and Clarke to rot here. Clarke was more family to me than anyone else and now I don't have anyone!" Willow retaliated hysterically, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. The guard that watched from a distance shifted slightly, the exchange not making him comfortable.

"Willow, sweetheart —"

"Don't call me that."

"Willow, you broke the law," he tried again, looking down at his hands that fidgeted under the pressure on top of the table that separated them. The noise of the other prisoners visiting with loved ones mostly drowned out the heated exchange.

She took a deep breath, hands shaking between the handcuffs underneath the table. "I hope the law is there for you when I'm gone," she whispered, a single tear falling onto her cheek. "Floating your wife and kid is justified somewhere in all those ordinances and codes, I'm sure."

Suddenly, she stood up and the guard that brought her in rushed to her and grabbed the back of her shirt, ready to usher her back out of the room. Desmond stood up in shock, begging loudly, "Willow, please!"

"NO!" she screamed, the guard's grip tightening on her collar urging her out more roughly than she would have preferred.
Turning her back, she left the visiting area with her father frozen in place, dumbfounded and shocked.