Bellamy turned a knife over in his hands as he examined the dead panther. He'd planned to turn the beast into dinner, but now he realized he wasn't really sure how to go about that. It couldn't be too hard, and if he failed—Bellamy spared a glance at the dozens of teenagers watching him with ravenous expressions—well he'd probably be eaten alive. Not having much to lose, Bellamy sank down to his knees before the panther and aimed his knife at a spot on its stomach. He hadn't even pierced the flesh before a familiar voice interrupted him.
"Stop! What are you doing?"
Bellamy looked up into to see Cook staring down at him, her eyes wide and her hand stretched out to stop him. "Making sure we don't starve," he snapped.
Cook crossed her arms. "Well you're doing it wrong."
Bellamy took a deep breath before standing. There was no way he would let her look down on him while also telling him what to do.
"How's that?" he challenged. "If you don't want us to eat you instead, I suggest you get out of the way."
He had to resist the urge to smirk in victory when he spotted a muscle twitch just under her jaw. She may keep a tight reign on her emotions, but he suspected she had a temper. It certainly went with her screwdriver-wielding-murdering-psycho reputation.
"Sure thing, your highness," she bit out, her tone frosty. "Just don't come crying to me when you ruin the meat because you dressed it wrong."
"Watch your mouth, Cook," Murphy drawled, interrupting.
"Fuck off, Murphy," Cook deadpanned, barely even looking in his direction.
Murphy bristled, his face twisting in anger. "You—"
"Easy," Bellamy intervened, placing a hand on Murphy's shoulder and giving the boy a quelling look before turning to the girl. "What are you talking about, Cook? Do you know how to prep this?"
"Yeah."
"Where the hell did you learn something like that?" Gutting—dressing—whatever it was called was not something they taught in Earth Skills.
"My mom ran the library, and my only friend lived on a different station. I had a lot of free time, so I read a lot of books." Cook shrugged, and her bright hair glittered in the firelight.
"You just keep getting more useful." And it was true. He had expected her to be more of a thorn in his side than anything, and despite her tendency toward insubordination, she was far from useless. "Care to show us how it's done?"
She gave him a simpering smile, but her eyes were cold as she snatched the knife out of his hands. "With pleasure."
"So how'd you do with the wristbands?" Bellamy asked from his seat on the ground as he watched Cook work. She'd taken off that ugly orange jacket, and her wiry arms were stained almost to the elbows with the panther's blood. Bellamy was supposed to be watching so he could learn how to prepare any future kills, but he was having a hard time following what she was doing.
"Decent," she replied. She tilted her head to get a better look at the guts she was pulling out of the panther's middle, but her long hair swung into the way. She swore under her breath and tossed her head a few times until it fell back behind her shoulders. "I got thirteen off, but it's not very effective to approach people individually. It's a big decision for people who still have family up there, one they're not willing to make without the right push."
"And what would you suggest?" He honestly wanted to know when she thought. When she wasn't being cold and critical, she actually had a lot of smart things to say.
Her watched her profile as she pursed her lips, thinking. "Peer pressure, I guess; us teenagers are supposed to be easily swayed by it, after all," she said finally. "Give them some compelling motivation so that they make the decision as a group."
"Makes sense." Bellamy nodded in appreciation, but she didn't catch the gesture, her focus on the task before her. "Say, Cook, just how hungry are you right now?"
"Honestly? I'm starving. If you hadn't brought this panther back I'd probably be gutting Murphy instead. What are you thinking?"
"That we get them to make a trade."
She turned to them then, a skinny, crooked smirk on her lips. "That's pretty ruthless."
Bellamy shrugged. "I don't see you trying to talk me out of it."
Cook gave a throaty chuckle. "Well we both know what a wasted effort that would be. Besides, I don't want anyone up there to die—except Jaha, I guess—but I also don't really want them coming down here, either. So I'm choosing not to weigh in on the issue."
She'd clearly given the subject some thought. And she wanted Jaha dead. For a moment, Bellamy considered telling her he'd already fulfilled her wish, but he thought better of it.
"That's very apathetic of you," he teased.
She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Don't look at me like that. I know big words." Bellamy glared halfheartedly. "And what about Miller? You two are pretty close, and his dad's up there, right?"
She turned back to the panther's corpse and began pulling out the intestines with more force than was probably necessary. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.
"Just pay attention, Blake," she snapped.
...
Bellamy had decided that he hated teenagers with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. Or perhaps not quite that much, but he was beginning to wonder if they weren't possibly the worst group of people he could be stuck on Earth with.
Things had been looking up the night they saved Jasper and brought the panther back. His idea to make the Hundred trade their wristbands for food had been inspired and quite effective. Only about a third of the remaining teens still had their wristbands, and that number had diminished every day since. Surprisingly, Cook had actually known what to do with a dead animal to turn it into food, providing the answer to a dilemma before he even realized it could have presented a problem. Although the fact that only one person in the entire camp knew how to dress a kill only emphasized how woefully unprepared they all were to survive.
But now they were out of food. And everyone was bored. And as it turned out, bored, hungry, criminal teenagers were like unfriendly, insubordinate wild animals. Bellamy hated them. They needed to find food fast, or he was going to make killing people a regular habit. He needed to blow off some steam, release some aggression. Most of his Lost Boys—as Octavia had called his group of lackeys—were scattered about camp, causing trouble and intimidating people, but he spotted Cook and Murphy over in a little copse of trees on the edge of camp. Murphy was practicing knife throwing and failing spectacularly—just the sort of opportunity Bellamy was looking for.
"Wow, Neighbor, you suck at that," he heard Cook say in response to Murphy's latest subpar throw. The girl was perched on a tree stump, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and watching Murphy with a sneering expression. She didn't acknowledge Bellamy as he joined them, crossing his arms over his chest and silently observing.
"Whatever," Murphy grumbled, retrieving his knife from the ground. "I'd like to see you do better."
Cook shrugged and pulled her own makeshift knife from her boot before sliding off the stump. She walked with a confident swagger, but the way her jaw worked as she chewed on the inside of her cheek betrayed her nervousness. She angled her body at a 45˚ angle to the tree and threw the knife.
It whistled through the air and stuck in the bark for a moment before dropping to the ground.
Murphy laughed.
"That was still better than you did," Cook pointed out.
"It's that damn kid," Murphy defended himself. "He's messing with my head."
"He's not gonna last much longer, so think of a new excuse," Bellamy chimed in, finally. A small voice in the back of his head told him he probably shouldn't work out his frustrations by degrading a teenager, but he ignored it. He rolled his shoulders confidently and hurled his ax at the tree, smirking as it stuck firmly in the bark. "And that's how it's done."
Murphy said nothing, but he heard Cook snort behind him. Before he had a chance to knock her down a peg as well, Atom and Connor joined them, looking sweaty and defeated. That wasn't a good sign.
"We searched a half mile all directions," Atom said to Bellamy. "No sign of Trina or Pascal."
Bellamy didn't like his tone. He didn't like his face. He didn't like his hands because for some reason the kid had seen fit to put them on Octavia.
"Visit your special tree while you were out there?" Murphy taunted Atom.
He heard a throat clearing beside him and looked down to see Cook, once again seated on the tree stump, looking up at him expectantly. Put him in his place, her gaze seemed to say. He couldn't decide if he found her amusing or if he wanted to strangle her.
"Atom took his punishment," Bellamy said finally to the group, though clearly directing his statement to Murphy. "Let it go."
Murphy's lip curled, but he held his tongue. Smart choice.
"Could be grounders," Atom offered, returning to the original topic.
"Or they're just working off their hormones," Cook said as she picked the dirt out from under her fingernails.
Murphy chuckled and said pointedly, "yeah, there's a lot of that going around recently."
Bellamy glared at them both. For two people who so clearly disliked each other, they made an excellent show of teamwork in annoying the living shit out of him.
"Look, Bellamy, people are scared," Atom said, ignoring the change in subject, again. "And that dying kid—he's not helping the morale around here."
With impeccable timing, an agonized moan echoed over camp, filtering through the opening of the dropship. As much as Bellamy was loath to admit it, the guy had a point.
"Morale will pick up when I find them more food," Bellamy said, indirectly acknowledging Atom's correct assessment.
"And what do we say when they ask about Trina and Pascal?" Connor spoke finally.
Bellamy liked Connor. He wasn't stupid, he didn't talk too much, and he followed orders well. He also hadn't even looked twice at Octavia, making him one of Bellamy's favorite people in camp.
"It's possible they're just lost." The possibility sounded weak, even to Bellamy's own ears. "We'll keep an eye out for them when we go hunting later."
That stirred some excitement among the group. Cook hopped eagerly to her feet.
"Let's go kill something," Murphy said darkly, visibly twitching with excitement. Disgusting.
"You're not going," Bellamy said, stopping Murphy. He stuck his arm out to block Cook's departure as well. "And neither are you." He turned back to Murphy, knowing he would be the easier one to convince. "I need you to stay here. The grounders are circling, and we can't leave this place unprotected."
Murphy looked momentarily frustrated, but his shoulders quickly sagged in defeat. "Fine. But somebody had better tell goggle-boy to keep it shut," he said over his shoulder as he stalked off.
Bellamy turned back to Cook. Her green eyes were narrowed, and she'd tilted her chin up defiantly.
"And why can't I go?" she pressed, her tone insolent.
Jesus, Bellamy thought. Was this girl always expecting a fight?
He was about to broach a potentially sensitive subject; he should do so with tact. Or he could just dive right in. "I heard that your dad got floated for fighting in the rings on Factory—and that he was pretty good, too."
Cook's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't seem too angry, like he had expected. "Yeah, he was one of the best. He got busted about six months before I got locked up," she confirmed warily. "What's your point?"
"Did he teach you how to fight?"
"Of course."
"That's what I thought." Bellamy smirked. "And that means I have a job for which you are uniquely qualified."
She didn't look convinced. "Because I can fight?"
"Also because you're a girl." He looked at her carefully, making sure to catch her gaze so she knew how serious he was. "I want you to look after Octavia."
"I'm not a babysitter," Cook scoffed.
He was expecting that reaction. She didn't seem like the type to appreciate such an appointment. Too bad he didn't really care.
"It's not babysitting. I want you to go with her wherever she goes, and after what happened with Atom, you're about the only person I can safely assign to do that," Bellamy explained. Why couldn't she just take orders like the rest of the guys?
Cook sucked on the inside of her cheek and looked off to the side with narrowed eyes. It only took her a moment to come to a decision. "Fine. What's in it for me?"
She was absolutely impossible. Part of Bellamy wondered if it would be a mistake sticking her with Octavia since neither of them seemed inclined to listen to him the way he wanted them to.
"I thought we already agreed you were going to do what I say," he said, crossing his arms and stepping closer so that he towered over her. Cook didn't seem bothered by his admittedly weak show of intimidation.
"That was before you told me to do something boring—no offense to Octavia," she said with a placating wave of her hand.
"Fine," Bellamy gritted out. This was not how he'd planned out the conversation. "You'll get to share a tent, just the two of you. No worrying about bunking with some rapist." He was going to offer her a place in Octavia's tent anyway, but she didn't need to know that. But when she didn't immediately agree, Bellamy laid out his final offer and pulled a knife—definitely the best of the drop ship knives, by far—and offered it to her. "I'll let you have the knife. It's a lot better than yours."
Cook pursed her lips for a moment before shrugging her thin shoulders. She took the knife and quickly slipped it into her boot. "You make a convincing argument. I'll keep an eye on her. But just to warn you—she's not going to like having another babysitter."
She didn't need to tell him that. He knew just how little Octavia was going to appreciate the new arrangement, but he was hoping that her new minder being a girl—and possibly a potential friend, though Bellamy wasn't sure he wanted his sister befriending someone like Cook—would soften the blow.
"I don't really care whether she likes it or not," was all he said in response before stalking off.
...
Ginna wasn't terribly pleased with her new job, but she wasn't overly displeased with it either. On the one hand, it would keep her confined to camp with a charge that was sure to resent her presence. But on the other hand, she would have a safe tent to sleep in, and that was an offer too priceless to question. Besides, Bellamy was right: she was uniquely qualified for the job. She could understand why he didn't want to put another boy in charge of Octavia, given what had happened with Atom, and as far as she knew, there weren't many girls in camp capable of being an effective bodyguard. Ginna may be small and slight, but her father had taught her more than a few things. And after he was floated, Miller's dad made sure she knew how to look after herself, too. Her father had been a practical man, never one for emotional displays of love and affection, but it was the little things that showed how much he'd cared. Teaching her to fight so she could protect herself, arranging an apprenticeship with a friend of his on Agro so she could learn a trade (not that she'd shown much skill in the area)—those were the things that Ginna would always hold onto. She couldn't help but think that he would be glad the skill he'd taught her would be serving her well on Earth.
Or it would be serving her well if she restrained the urge to slam Octavia's head into the wall of the dropship. She admired the younger girl's clear desire for independence, but she was so petulant. So whiny and completely ruled by her emotions. Blake's sister was one passionate girl, much to Ginna's displeasure. Those passions were going to get Octavia—and Ginna by extension—into trouble, she thought as she watched the other girl throwing herself at Atom.
"Am I being too subtle?" she asked with obvious displeasure as the boy ignored her advances. "Atom?" Octavia pressed.
Ginna pushed out of the doorway of the dropship where she had been waiting for a moment to interrupt. "I don't think he's interested."
Octavia shot her a narrow glare and snapped, "mind your own business."
"I am." Ginna smirked. "Your brother made me your new babysitter."
Octavia bristled, rising to her full height to stare Ginna down. The move was something the Blake siblings seemed to have in common. Too bad Ginna didn't spook that easily. "I don't need a babysitter," Octavia sneered. "I don't even know who you are."
"I'm Ginna—and of course you don't. However, I do what Bellamy tells me to do, so we're at a bit of an impasse," Ginna said calmly, while still making it clear that Octavia was not in control of the situation. She had been expecting this sort of reaction, anyway.
Octavia kept the hard expression on her face for a moment longer before deflating. "I'm not going to have any fun with you around," she pouted.
Ginna chuckled. "I'll try not to get in your way too much." She offered the other girl what she hoped was a friendly smile before warning, "just—stay away from Atom. For his sake and mine, if you get what I'm saying."
The second the words left her mouth, she knew they had been the wrong ones. Octavia's eyes widened and then her expression darkened. "Oh I get what you're saying," she hissed under her breath before storming out of the dropship.
Ginna cast her eyes skyward, pleading for strength before jogging after the other girl just in time to see her heading into her brother's tent and Murphy exiting a moment later. Not wanting to get in the way of the impending showdown, she waited outside, counting the ants the crawled over her boots and studiously ignoring the raised voices from inside.
Octavia ducked out of the tent a moment later, and without casting so much as a glance in Ginna's direction, headed back to the dropship at a sprint. Ginna was just about to follow her when the older Blake sibling emerged from the tent as well, looking enraged enough that Ginna wished she were somewhere, anywhere else.
"What did you say to her?" Bellamy demanded, rounding on her with a furious expression.
"Nothing." Ginna blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent.
"Sure." Unsurprisingly, he sounded unconvinced.
But Ginna didn't feel like dealing with more Blake family shit than was strictly a part of her job description, so she merely shrugged her shoulders and left to return to the dropship. He followed, stalking in her footsteps like an angry shadow, but mercifully, he didn't say anything.
After asking one of the kids hanging around the first floor of the dropship, Ginna learned that Octavia had gone to one of the upper levels. She looked to Bellamy and gestured to the ladder. Go ahead, she dared him with the gesture.
But he just shook his head. "Ladies first."
Ginna shrugged off the taunt and began to climb, all the while resisting the urge to "slip" on the ladder and kick him in his smug face.
"She's trying to save his life," Finn was saying as they finally made it to the top level.
"She can't," Bellamy interjected as he emerged from the hatch behind her.
As Ginna looked upon the scene before her, she couldn't help but agree. The goggle kid looked even worse than he had when they'd brought him back to camp. His skin was sallow and sweaty, and the whole room smelled like infection.
"Back off," Jaha's son said coldly, giving Bellamy a nasty look. For once, Ginna found herself on Blake's side; it wasn't his fault they were all afraid to face the truth.
"We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die," Clarke said earnestly. Ginna wasn't sure what to think of the blonde girl. She seemed smart and capable, but definitely not the type of person Ginna would be befriending any time soon.
"Kid's a goner," Bellamy said with absolutely no sympathy. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Ginna, probably trying to make it seem like she was supporting his call—the jerk. "If you can't see that, you're deluded. He's making people crazy."
"Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters."
Clarke had a point. She had the point. There were already less than a hundred of them, and they couldn't afford to lose anymore—especially if the rest of the Ark never came down like Bellamy was hoping. She tilted her head away from him to shoot him a significant look out the side of her eye.
Traitor, said his answering glare. "Look at him. He's a lost cause."
Clarke only shook her head with disgust. "Octavia, I spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there's hope, there's hope."
Ginna almost rolled her eyes. It wasn't about hope. It was about how capable goggle-boy was of pulling through and how capable Clarke was of helping him. She would never understand why people insisted on placing their fate in the hands of such foolish things as hope.
"This isn't about hope—it's about guts. You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He's been like this for three days; if he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself," Bellamy promised. "Octavia, let's go."
Predictably, Octavia shook her head and fixed her brother with a challenging stare. "I'm staying here. Don't worry, your guard dog will keep a close eye on me, right Ginna?"
Was that was it was like to have a sibling? How miserable. Ginna found herself very glad that she was an only child. "She's right," she said with a shrug, trying to keep her tone as impartial as possible. "It's what you wanted me to do, after all."
Blake's shoulders tensed, but the defeat was written all over his face as he made to climb back down the ladder. "Whatever. Don't let her out of your sight, Cook," he ordered.
Ginna saluted the top of his head as he disappeared down the hatch, earning chuckles from a few of the remaining teens.
"Thanks," Octavia said once her brother was out of earshot.
Ginna shrugged off her gratitude with a wave of her hand, but she was hopeful that the gesture would go a short way to making sure Octavia didn't purposefully make her life a living hell.
"Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself," grumbled a boy that Ginna didn't recognize. "No offense," he added to Octavia.
"Yeah, Bellamy is all that, but he also happens to be right," said Finn. Ginna was pretty sure "right" was a bit of a stretch, but he wasn't without a valid point.
"I refuse to believe that," Clarke insisted. "There's nothing else we can do for now, and I need some air."
Finn and Wells were already leaving, so Octavia waved Clarke on. "Go ahead. Ginna and I will stay," she assured the other girl.
Clarke gave Ginna a distrustful glance before thanking Octavia and heading down the hatch herself. Ginna warily eyed the goggle-kid in the silence that lingered after Clarke's departure. Why couldn't Octavia be friends with someone healthy? Ginna really didn't like sick people.
"So why did you decide to become my brother's bitch?" Octavia asked, breaking the silence. She was seated casually on the ground and looking up at Ginna where she remained standing beside the hatch. "You don't seem like the other assholes he's got hanging around, and you're obviously not trying to sleep with him."
"Ha, definitely not," Ginna laughed and shook her head. She took a seat on the floor and leaned back against the wall as she considered her next words. "I just don't want to be on the bottom rungs of whatever power structure's gonna develop down here."
"Strategic."
Ginna nodded. "Thank you."
"You're not so bad," Octavia said with an amused shake of her head.
Ginna rolled her eyes. "You Blakes really excel at flattery—it must be genetic."
The kid who she didn't know snorted, indicating that he had been paying attention to their conversation.
"Hey, Jasper's friend. What's your name?" Ginna asked him.
"I'm Monty."
"Ginna," she introduced herself.
Monty licked his lips nervously before answering, "I know."
She was getting so tired of this crap. "Everybody does, it seems."
"Why?" Octavia asked, her confusion clear on her expressive face.
"Because I killed someone on Mecha station." There, let her make of that what she wanted.
The other girl gasped. "Why?"
"Because he was raping my mom." She didn't mind talking about it, but no one ever asked and the story never got out, so it was no surprise that Monty looked shocked. "There's always more to the story," Ginna added pointedly.
Octavia looked angry, but something about the brunette's expression told Ginna that the emotion was not directed at her.
"I can see that," Monty said solemnly. "You're something of an urban legend, you know, what with Young Kip being one of the main black market traders."
Urban legend was a nice way of putting it, and they both knew it.
"Yeah, well, he set a price that was just a little too high to pay," Ginna said darkly before deciding they were in need of a change of subject. "So what'd they get the two of you for?"
Octavia gave her an unamused look that plainly asked: Isn't it obvious?
Monty rubbed the back of his neck and blushed slightly. "My family was in charge of growing the plants for pharmaceuticals," he explained. "Jasper and I were...experimenting with some of the harvest."
Ginna laughed at that, the boy's embarrassment only making it funnier. "Somehow I'm not surprised," she stage-whispered to Octavia, earning a giggle from the other girl.
...
a/n: Bell can't decide if she's amusing or he wants to strangle her? Maybe he just wants to kiss her ;) Ginna and Octavia becoming friends hooray! I love writing Ginna and Murphy because I feel like they have similar temperaments (except Ginna's not as much of an idiot haha).
next chapter: Murphy gets his ass kicked, Miller returns, Charlotte makes her grand entrance & more
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