┍━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┑
BURY A FRIEND
┕━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┙
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"HEY, DAD, can I borrow your gun?"
Noah, whose in the middle of conversation with Sergeant Miller on the port side of the perimeter, turns to his daughter. He eyes her suspiciously for a very long moment and she starts to think Great, now I'm gonna get yelled at, but then he relaxes.
"I feel like I should have some reservations about this, but you're a good kid," he starts. He shifts his rifle and Lyra reaches out for it, only for him to jerk defensively. "No, the big one's mine. You get the small one."
Sergeant Miller watches incredulously as her dad hands her his handgun.
Lyra takes it in clammy hands. Although she has absolutely zero faith in her ability to fire it, having it locked in her palms is more than reassuring. A flimsy shield.
But it feels like an anchor in her hands.
"Atta girl," says Noah, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "Try not to kill anyone."
Lyra starts to walk away.
"Wait!"
She turns around very fast, almost gratefully. At least he's finally found his rationality, realized giving his seventeen year old criminal daughter is probably not, like, the best idea he's ever had ━━
"You should take this knife, too."
It's more of a dagger, really, with a thick hilt and a small, jagged blade. It flashes silver in the pale sun as she takes it uneasily. She stuffs the knife into her her violet-grey backpack, the one from Mount Weather, which is currently pretty light because she's dumped all her books in the labs. She wishes she could shove the gun to the very bottom but even she's not that much of an idiot.
"Where did you get a knife like that?" Sergeant Miller demands.
He shrugs. "The Grounders. I met the Commander, Y'know. She's really a lovey girl. I love her bloodthirsty tendencies."
"Um, OK," says Lyra. "I'm gonna go now."
"Have fun!" Noah chuckles as he watches her weave through the crowd of Ark personnel. "Ah, kids these days."
Sergeant Miller looks at him like he's crazy.
Glancing uneasily over her shoulder as she jogs to the quiet sector of Camp Jaha, the part of the yard that's really cut off from everything else because of the hulking way Alpha Station contorts at the end. The grass here is more charred and it crunches under her feet as she creeps towards Raven's gate, knowing full well that she's got about thirty seconds before it electrocutes the fuck out of her. Gripping the firearm tighter in her hands, she slips between the fence and quickly ducks into the woods.
A bush rustles and then a figure bursts from it, causing Lyra to nearly have a heart attack.
"Fuck, Murphy," she swears loudly, her heart pounding. "I — what are you even doing here?"
"Raven invited me."
And OK, here's the thing ━━ Lyra knows Murphy's supposedly a changed man now. But it's sort of hard to forget the last time she saw him, when he'd taken Bellamy and Jasper hostage. She'd been forced under the floor, which already is one of her worst fears, and then she'd had to listen to Murphy killing Bellamy. She'd heard every single word of it. And then there was the accident with the wires: she's the one who screamed, who made the noise, it's her fault Murphy knew they were down there. And yet Raven's the one who took the bullet.
Almost mechanically, she takes a step away, her back to him. "We're supposed to split up. I don't — "
She breaks off when she feels his fingers brush her arm. She whips around, heart hammering so hard that she thinks her chest might burst. Murphy gazes back at her, his usual smugness gone and replaced with. . . with what almost looks like regret.
"Just. . . hear me out."
His words spike something in Lyra. She narrows her eyes as she starts to move through the forest. Murphy trails after her.
"Hear you out?" She demands softly. "You want me to hear you out? I'm the one who told Bellamy you were better, who told him we could trust you! And then you hung him! You hung him and you shot Raven! Why should I listen to anything you have to say?"
"I know that," he says at once. "You've always stuck out your neck for me. Even in Earth Skills."
Lyra's boots stomp in the bracken and she forces herself to step lighter. There's no point in throwing a tantrum out here, especially not now.
"You're a good person, Lyra. Which is kind of annoying sometimes, actually."
She shoots him a look.
"My bad. That came out wrong," he says quickly. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry."
Lyra shifts her weight, eyes glued to the endless forest ahead. She'd always anticipated Murphy's apology would bring her immense satisfaction, but it only makes her feel more miserable. It reminds her of how pointless his whole feud with The One-Hundred had been; they were all responsible for each other's hurt. Murphy who was innocently hung for a crime he did not commit returned with a vengeance and really, who could blame him? They almost killed him in their blind anger.
And anyways, when you don't grow up being fed love from a silver spoon, you try to lick it from knives.
Lyra returns to the nervous habit of wringing her hands, dreading what she's about to say. "I guess none of us are really innocent."
Murphy snorts. "Look at you. Good girl gone bad. Do you even know how to shoot that thing?"
"Pull the trigger, pew, pew, pew."
Stepping over a tree root, Murphy's oily hair dangles in front of his face as he stares at her. Blinks. Then shrugs. "Yeah, I mean I guess that's pretty much it. I heard you zero g mech's have crazy hand-eye skills."
"What about you?" Lyra steps delicately over dead leaves. "You're a good guy now?"
She goes over the leaves, hoping to crunch them. They're still a pretty orange, but starting to decay a little around the edges. They don't have the good crunch and are limp beneath her boots, which is a little disappointing. She brushes her bangs out of her eyes.
"I thought long and hard about it, and burning in the fiery pits of hell for an eternity isn't exactly my thing."
"Well, then I guess you'll help us with the forty-seven in Mount Weather, we could use an extra gun — "
"Easy, easy," says Murphy quickly. "I'm just trying to get in to the good place. I'm not running for God."
Lyra tries not to grin.
"I heard about what happened at Mount Weather, by the way," says Murphy abruptly. "Clarke told me about what happened to Wells."
A cold feeling suddenly crawls through Lyra like a virus. She doesn't think she can have this conversation with Murphy. Not with the boy who had gotten into a knife fight with Wells on their first day on the ground, with the boy who'd tried to kill him multiple times.
"I'm, uh, sorry," he continues. "I didn't like him very much, but. . . well, anyone could see that he was a good guy. The way they killed him. . . he didn't deserve that."
Lyra hardly notices his words ━━ the way they killed him. As if he doesn't know who had done it. And maybe he really doesn't. . . she has no idea what Clarke had told him, or even what Clarke is telling anyone.
Her throat closing up, Lyra sniffles, steadies her trembling lip. "I don't want to talk about it."
Something indiscernible flashes across his features, making them look softer than ever before. "Jupiter — "
"I'm serious," Lyra says coldly. She can feel her entire body tensing as she marches forwards into the undergrowth. A part of her falters suddenly. "Just. . . drop it, OK? I don't want to talk about it."
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
"MURPHY ━━ what the hell are you doing?"
"Easy, easy," says Lyra, brushing past the parachute canvas overhang of the entrance and stepping onto the familiar metal. "He's good."
Bellamy looks between the two of them. "What are you doing here?"
"I believe I was invited."
"Wasn't me," says Lyra quickly as Bellamy's accusatory glare finds her.
"I thought we could use an extra gun," Raven tells him.
"Might be a good idea," Bellamy decides after a reluctant pause.
"Finn should've been right behind you two," mutters Raven anxiously.
"Don't worry." At Bellamy's approval, Murphy crosses the dropship to lower his pack, his back to them. "The second-best Spacewalker's gonna be fine."
Minutes pass, conversation sparse.
Footfalls thunder outside.
Before anyone can scramble for a way to defend themselves, the canvas overhang shudders and Finn bursts inside. In his arms is Clarke, blonde hair straggling down her features, matted against her neck with grime. Her face is chalk-pale, cheeks waxen and insipid, eyelids rolled shut. There is a great smear of scarlet staining the right side of her skull as her head lolls backwards.
"Holy shit," breathes Lyra, scrambling to her feet.
"What happened?" Raven demands, rushing forwards and touching Clarke's shoulders in concern.
"A Grounder. Hit her on the head." Finn staggers forwards, struggling beneath her dead weight. Raven hurries to help him.
Murphy rushes to clear a space. "Put her here."
"We — we need bandages," says Lyra, her hands trembling as she sees Clarke's bloodless lips snap apart with a guttural groan of agony. "A rag or something."
"Got it," Murphy darts across the dropship before shoving a ragged cloth forwards. "Here."
"Hold her head," Lyra orders Bellamy as he takes the cloth from Murphy, propping it beneath her head.
Clarke does not stir, blood trickling gruesomely down the side of her skull, motionless and sodden with scarlet. Pale as a corpse. Her eyelids, so pale that they are almost translucent and webbed with violent violet veins, do not stir. She looks like a ghost, as if she's been murdered.
"Clarke, can you hear me?" Lyra whispers, but her friend still does not stir. Her brow creases in concern as she gives a short huff of worry. "Clarke. You're gonna be fine. You just need to rest."
"You could've been followed," says Bellamy grimly, standing. "We need to hold the perimeter. Murphy, Lyra, you're with me."
"What's she gonna do?" Murphy grumbles. "Charm the Grounders to death with her button nose?"
Bellamy gives him a look that seems to say, Shut up or I'll kill you. Murphy very wisely shuts up, putting his hands up in surrender while, under his breath, going "I'm just saying."
"Well don't," says Bellamy savagely.
The three of them emerge back into the remnants of the charted camp. The sky is pale, the sun is high, and Lyra feels slightly nauseous as she fumbles with her handgun. All she can think about is her friends in Mount Weather, the ones she left behind ━━ Nate, Monty, Jasper, Fox, Harper, the list goes on and on ━━ and how instead of doing anything to help them, they're fighting a second war with the Grounders.
"Hey, you good?" Bellamy asks gently, pulling her from her thoughts. He touches her arm lightly.
"Yeah. " She can hardly bring herself to look at him and focuses on the fiery trees twisting above their heads. "I'm just thinking —
"About Mount Weather?" He guesses. "They'll be fine. We'll get them out."
"I know," she says, and then her words start to rush. "I just can't help feeling like I abandoned them. We didn't know what happened to Clarke so I thought getting out was the only way to get help, but then I found out she was alive — "
"Come on, don't be stupid," Bellamy cuts her off quickly. "We need you here just as badly."
"To fight a second war against the Grounders."
"Don't say it like that," he says. "Finn's our friend."
"So are the people in Mount Weather," Lyra fires back, then deflates. "I just — "
"Hey!" Murphy's shout rings in the air, drawing their attention. "Unless there's a Grounder party we weren't invited to, we've got a problem!"
"Shit," Bellamy curses lowly, grabbing Lyra by the shoulders and pulling her down to the ground beside him. He scans the woods through the scope of his rifle and things are eerily quiet for a heartbeat before a silhouette streaks through the trees. "We've got company! Get out here!"
Clarke is the first to burst from the dropship, Finn and Raven just behind her.
"Get down!" Bellamy warns, and Clarke and Finn crouch beneath a charred tree stump while Raven takes cover by a mound of rock and soot. "Grounders."
Dread seizes Lyra as her clammy fists tilt her handgun skyward. But it feels useless as more and more Grounders move swiftly through the trees.
Clarke's horrified whisper voices her thoughts: "We're surrounded."
Lyra raises her gun up as she peaks out into the woods, but there's no movement now.
"They're not attacking," mumbles Lyra as sick realization dawns upon her. "They don't want us. They just want. . . "
She trails off, unwilling to finish that thought.
"We need to get back inside," Bellamy orders gruffly, but when Lyra glances at him, she can see that he's reached the same conclusion she has. "Finn, you first, then everyone else follows. Murphy and I will cover."
Nobody argues with him. Finn turns, both Raven and Clarke on his heels in a flash. Murphy drops his gun and staggers backwards, helping Lyra up and then the two of them disappear back behind the canvas overhang. It takes a moment, but then Bellamy is jogging in, his back rigid.
Murphy eyes the woods briefly before ducking his head back inside. "They're not moving any closer."
"Staying out of range," responds Bellamy gruffly. "Probably waiting until it's dark."
"If we hit them now, at least we'd take them by surprise," says Murphy.
Clarke shakes her head. "We don't even know how many of them are out there."
"I'm not hearing any better ideas, Clarke."
"We've tried hitting them first before. Look at where that's got us," says Lyra lowly. "And it doesn't matter. I don't think they're just going to let this go. Not until they get something."
Raven's face is dark. "We'll give them something."
Bellamy looks at her, lost. "All they want is Finn."
"Finn wasn't the only one at the village."
"What are you talking about?" Clarke asks quietly.
Raven's gaze flickers up and bile burns in the back of Lyra's throat. No, she tries to tell herself, use your head. The very idea of Raven doing something like this is ridiculous. . . and yet Lyra does not miss the way Raven is gazing back at Murphy evenly.
"Woah, woah, woah. Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come. You. . . " Murphy is incredulous until he isn't. His lips quirk up in startled, bitter hilarity. "That's why you wanted me to come along."
"Enough Grounders saw him at the village. They'd believe he was the shooter."
"No," says Lyra, her voice wobbling with shock as she stares at Raven. "No, this is wrong."
"Sick bitch," Murphy snaps, his surprise contorting to anger.
"Raven, you don't mean this," Clarke says placatingly.
"You know what they do to people," adds Bellamy, taking a tiny step forwards.
But Raven ignores all of them, her lower lip curling deftly. She strides forwards, boots pounding against the hull of the dropship.
"They want a murderer, we'll give them one." Fingers coiling around her rifle, she raises it and clicks the safety off as furious desperation disfigures her features. Her voice raises to an almost primitive demand: "Drop your gun!"
"Raven, no!"
Lyra's shout is loud and it echoes in the dropship as she thrusts herself between Murphy and the rifle. Heart hammering, she stares Raven down.
"We are not doing this," she says. "I'm not going to let you give him up."
"Get the hell out of my way, Lyra!"
"Or what? You'll shoot me?"
Raven's lip wobbles. "For Finn? Yes," she declares hotly, rashly.
"Go to hell, Raven," Murphy spits venomously.
"Put it down, Raven," Clarke tries again. "Like it or not, he's one of us."
"I said get the hell out of my way!" Raven barks, thrusting her rifle forwards so that the barrel jabs Lyra in the chest..
"Back off!" Bellamy snaps, his entire countenance rigid and seething. "Back off now, Raven!"
"Stop!"
Finn's cold, clear voice rings out as he hurries forwards. Taking Raven gently by the arm, he lowers her rifle and gives Lyra a concerned glance. She can only nod back at him numbly as she tries to piece together what just happened. Raven almost shot her. Raven almost shot her. Raven almost shot her.
"We're not doing this. They've got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay and defend this place." Finn looks at each of them in turn, his countenance veiled in grim grey shadows as he says this.
Bellamy forces himself to glance away from Raven with some difficulty. "I'm with you."
Clarke gives a jerky nod.
"Murphy?" Finn questions lowly.
"Yeah." The boy does not look at anyone. He's looking at the ground. His eyes are red.
"Go upstairs. Watch the rear," Finn says. Gravel hardens in his voice, an edge of austerity. "I'll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That's the plan. All right?"
"Hang on," says Bellamy stiffly. "What about Lyra?"
"He can't hold the lower level on his own," says Lyra, trying to hide the way her voice is shaky. "I'll stay here."
Murphy's the first to take to his post. He goes up the ladder, not once looking back. Giving Lyra a tiny glance, Bellamy is the next to move, shouldering his way past the canvas and into the open. Raven tails Finn like a terrified child and the two exchange words with Lyra hanging further back on the level, not wanting to overhear the private moment and also not in the mood to even look at Raven. Clarke whispers something to Finn and he nods. Then it is just Finn and Lyra in the dropship.
"So, what's the real plan?"
"This is the real plan."
"No, it's not," says Lyra quietly. She boldly lifts her eyes to meet Finn's. "You were going to be on your own. On the lower level. Where there's an exit."
Finn turns his back to her, starting to descend down the hatch. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Lyra follows him immediately, the lowest level of the dropship black with shadows and seething with harsh cold. The hatch thuds shut overhead with a loud clattering noise. It echoes in the dim.
"Yes, you do," Lyra argues, moving to block him.
"What do we do after this?"
His question startles her. Halting mid-step, she starts to frown.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean after this." He gestures around the dropship. "Where do we go? You think the Grounders will just leave when they find out I'm gone? Is this the best way to help our friends inside Mount Weather?"
"I don't — " she starts, but she doesn't know what to say. A fist has curled itself around her throat.
Finn faces her, face almost savage with despair.
"What would you do?"
Trembling all over, Lyra starts to shake her head. Tears burn in her eyes as she fights to keep herself together. "I just want to protect my friends."
He grips her like a vice. "What would you do?"
Her lips tremble, foul truths coating her tongue like rot. All she can taste is decay and she shivers as she struggles to shake him off. But it is impossible and he stares at her so intensely that she cannot hold back her response any longer.
"I would give myself up."
Her voice is a dying flame.
"I just want to protect my friends," she whispers. "That's all I've ever wanted to do."
"I know," says Finn quietly, gently.
She does not see him lift the baton until it is too late.
Electricity seizes her in waves. It is agonizing and then ebbing, fading and then overwhelming. This is a relentless squeezing of her intestines as something coils around her harshly, like a steel-spiked python constricting around her entity. She convulses violently against the ground.
Vision blurred, she gasps for air. Vaguely she can see Finn starting to move.
"I'm sorry," his voice sounds so very far away.
No, she wants to say, Finn, no! But she cannot help him now and she cannot even move, god, she can hardly even breathe.
She writhes there in pain for what feels like an eternity.
She wishes she'd made Bellamy come down here with her. Fuck, she even wishes Murphy of all people were down here with her.
But they're not and she is all alone, curled there on the cold dark metal, twitching in excruciating pain, wishing she could breathe normally again. Waiting for this nightmare to end. Waiting for her senses to recover so that she can stop him, so that she can save Finn from this horrible fate ━━
But what about your friends? A cruel voice hisses in her ears. This is the only way to save them from Mount Weather, isn't it?
And, worst of all. . .
Isn't this what Wells died for?
Fate spares her from having to answer.
From the outside world, she can hear Clarke and Raven screaming and she goes still. She knows.
Finn has given himself up
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
THAT IS WHAT officially pushes Lyra over the edge; it's midnight when she finally breaks.
She's trying, all right? She's gone through a number of traumatic experiences in just a few short days without laying down on the floor and questioning her existence or full-out bursting into tears. Sure, there were moments where she got close, but she was never quite there. The dropship war. Mount Weather. Being told everyone she cares about is dead. Finding out that was a lie so they could steal her blood. Having to kill her friend. Finding out Lincoln's been turned into a cannibalistic monster. Watching her friend break down over his death only to bring him back. Then learning that Finn's a murderer. Fighting to protect him only to realise there was never any way they could have saved him anyways. . .
So. Yeah. She's trying.
They'd gotten back from the dropship barely an hour ago. Bellamy and Murphy had been forced to help her walk part of the way, and then when they got within sight of the camp, they saw the setup the Grounders had. Hoards of them swarming what looked like a stake. The air was death-flavored, foul, as if they had just walked into a butcher's yard, wading through rot, staggering upon fly-festered corpses. They were surrounded by death. The brutal kind, that had you begging for the nightmare to end, begging for your own death because living is just too much for you to bear anymore.
"I killed him," she whispers. "I killed my friend."
Her dad looks exhausted. "Lyra — "
They're here. Locked away in a small room with two shoddy mattresses pressed into the corners. The others are gathered by the gates of Camp Jaha because the Grounders will burn Finn in front of their eyes. That's where Bellamy is. That's where Raven is. That's where Lyra absolutely refuses to be.
She'd been pacing back and forth furiously, but now she goes completely still. Lyra lifts her eyes, manic and glassy, to her dad's. He's sitting at the edge of one of the mattresses.
Noah looks at her sadly. "Come here, kid."
So she does. A strangled cry bursts from her lip as she falls into Noah's arms. Everything she's seen comes flooding back to her in an overwhelming tidal wave ━━ Raven's despair, Finn's disgust in himself, and Wells.
Wells, Wells, Wells. The way he tried to be brave, but she could see it in his eyes anyways. The fear in his eyes when he'd helped her hold the knife that he knew would kill him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Finn slaughtered an entire village and will suffer the pain of the deaths he caused ━━ but Wells was innocent. Wells was good.
He didn't deserve to die. He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready to die. He was only seventeen.
"They would've tortured him," Lyra splutters nonsensically as she buried her face in the crook of her dad's arms. Her whole body heaves. "So I killed him instead. . . oh god, oh god. . . what did I do?"
She feels as nauseas. Physically ill.
Her dad cradles her closer to him, and it takes her a moment, but then she realises that he is crying, too.
"I know." He smooths back her hair feverishly. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't have been there to help you. You're just a kid, you're just a kid — "
But they're all just kids, aren't they?
And then, from across the camp, she hears Raven scream.
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
all the characters being sad finn died:
me:
sometimes i feel bad for my friends bc like i will text them voice memos of me singing million dollar puthayyyy at 3 am and then say i frew up 🧍♀️an hour later and they'll be like omg fuck off ur so annoying, but like i literally did frow up, so???
anyway its 3 am as im writing this and im tired and also going a little crazy 🤪💅
also, watching this episode w/ Raven's spacewalk while Finn watches makes me think about how much bellamy would love to see lyra space walk. he'd literally have heart eyes the whole time.
Rest In Peace Finn.
I had a love/hate relationship with your character, and I think u had so many conflicting traits because the writers honestly didn't know what to do with u, but i always feel like you would've learned to do better had u survived. oh well.
4.3k words