"Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart."
―Corrie Ten Boom
Astoria had woken from her nightmare to the sound of birds, and she was quick to realise that she allowed herself to sleep the entire night.
It was foolish, and it left her sweating in her furs and grasping for her neck when she shot to sit up. The chirps from outside her cave helped to calm her down, but she was breathing so roughly she feared she may have fainted.
She took her time returning to the hundreds camp—instead deciding the bathe the storm off in the nearby river and catch herself breakfast. The sun was warm on her skin but the left over breeze from the night before made her zip her sweater up to her chin.
All morning, she thought of Lincoln; or rather, of what Bellamy had done to him. A part of her hoped that maybe the man had relaxed after she left. Perhaps Octavia had managed to talk him down, or Clarke had gotten a spare moment from helping Finn to put an end to what was happening on the floor above. It wasn't likely. When Astoria left the dropship, Bellamy was set on making her friend pay.
She was worried for Finn's health as well. He had been kind to her since the beginning, even if it had taken a little bit to warm up. Since Wells' death, he had taken time out of his day to have small conversations with her to prevent her straying from the group. But it was also Lincoln that hurt him. If Finn died, Astoria knew Lincoln would quickly follow suit.
When she returned to camp, she went straight for the dropship without greeting any of teenagers. Most of them looked her way, but no one that she was friendly with was nearby to ask questions of where she spent the night or why she left during the storm. She was grateful, because she had set her mind to seeing Lincoln and she wasn't prepared to take no for an answer.
The dropship had a few lingering teens inside, but she didn't pay them any mind. Miller was stood at the bottom of ladder, hat over his head just as it had been every day since he reached the ground. He watched Astoria closely as she moved towards him, but she didn't meet his eyes. She felt guilty for hitting him the night before, but she was sure that once she laid eyes on what they had done to Lincoln the feeling would disappear.
"I can't let you up there," he protested, stopping her by raising a hand. He made sure not to touch her, the bruise on his cheek reminding him of what happened last time, but he knew it didn't matter. From the look on the grounders face, she was going to put up a fight.
"Get out of my way," Astoria's voice sounded calm, but Miller knew better. He shuffled slightly and stood his ground, weighting out whether hers or Bellamy's wrath would be worse. "Miller—"
He shook his head, "Bellamy told me not to let you up—"
"I don't care what Bellamy told you. I'm telling you to get out of my way," Astoria's words were obviously scaring the boy—or more appropriately, her tone was. She was like a snake getting ready to swallow its prey whole.
A moment of silence passed, until Miller was distracted by someone behind her. Astoria took a deep breath, allowing her eyes to shut when she heard his voice. It only set off the anger inside of her.
"Astoria," Bellamy spoke, and she waited a few seconds before turning to meet his gaze.
She hated how he looked sad—as though he deserved to feel the emotion. If nothing had happened to Lincoln, he wouldn't have instructed Miller not to let her up to see him. He was guilty for what he had done, and Astoria didn't care. He deserved to feel that way.
She attempted to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her to stop the action. She jolted, not expecting him to attempt to make amends so soon. But that was not what he was doing.
"You can see him," he whispered. It was obviously the guilt talking, but it still made Astoria's heart flutter. She was able to see Lincoln. She was able to make sure he was alright. "But I'm coming with you."
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Bellamy stood by the ladder as Astoria made the climb up after him. He remained there when she reached the top, not daring to speak or move. He wanted to make what he did better, but he wasn't sure how. Clarke had thought allowing Astoria to speak with her friend was a good start.
It was strange, but when Astoria had told him that she was friends with a grounder he felt more rage than he thought he would. He felt betrayed; not only was she trying to protect the man that kidnapped his sister, but she also lied when she told them that all of her people wanted her dead.
Then she had fought him to protect the grounder, and she chose him over the hundred. It made sense; Bellamy didn't know how long the two had known each other, and from the way Astoria spoke of him she owed him a great deal. He wanted someone to fight for him like that, but it seemed every time he was close to getting the girl to his side he screwed it up.
When Astoria first saw the grounder, his chest and face full of cuts and bruises, she held in a gasp. Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she quickly stood properly on the top floor of the dropship to get closer. For a moment, Bellamy worried that she was going to spin around and strike him. Instead, she moved until she was standing just in front of the oldest man.
She was scared to touch him. Compared to the night before when she had brought the sleeve of her sweater up to wipe his face, she now stood with her hands at her sides.
A long moment of silence passed, and Bellamy watched the grounders closely. When Astoria began to speak, it wasn't in a language he understood.
"Ai moba," she whispered, her voice shaky and small. Bellamy had never heard it that way, and he almost frowned. He had done that. The man didn't respond, and Astoria took a step closer. "Chich kom ai," she all but begged, but the grounder only lowered his head to watch the metal floor.
When it was clear that Astoria wasn't going to get a conversation from her friend, she turned and made her way down the ladder. Bellamy searched to meet her eyes, not sure what he was planning to accomplish once he met them, but she didn't give him the satisfaction.
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"Astoria!" Bellamy called, rushing down the ladder after her.
When she reached the bottom floor, she moved from the dropship into the open air. She felt sick at the sight of Lincoln; he had clearly been beaten for half of the night, and not only with fists. When he refused to speak with her, whether it be because he was angry or because Bellamy was lurking in the corner, she had nearly broke down into tears. She should have let them kill her before she let them hurt him.
"Astoria—!" Bellamy tried again, and this time Astoria swung around with a furry that made him flinch as he stopped.
"Don't call me that!" she screamed angrily, and the teenagers who were in the area outside the dropship quickly dispersed. A few remained watching in secret, but neither of the young adults cared. "We are not friends. You do not get to chain him up, torture him for information, and then try to check to see if I'm alright."
Bellamy went silent at her words; he knew she was right. It didn't stop him from trying to defend his actions. "We needed to know how to save Finn from his poison—"
"I don't care," Astoria was not longer screaming, and her voice had changed to sound more disappointed than angry. "I don't care that Finn was poisoned, or that he tried to kill you in that cave, or even that you brought him back to the dropship; because none of it was suppose to happen. You were supposed to stay outside while I grabbed Octavia; you were supposed to trust me, even a little, when I told you that I had it handled, and would bring your sister back to you on my own." She paused, taking a step closer as her voice grew more vicious. She was tired of him, and she couldn't stop from getting all of it off her chest. "Instead you got Diggs, John, and Roma killed, and tortured the only friend I've ever had. Because you couldn't look past the fact that I'm a grounder."
She turned to walk away from him, but despite everything that she had blamed him for, he didn't let her. "You're not a grounder," he countered, and Astoria stilled. She looked back to him, scoffing defeatedly as she waited for him to explain. "You're one of the hundred."
A few days before, those were the only words she wanted to hear Bellamy say. She wanted him to accept her as one of them; to welcome her help and allow them to work together. "I'm not sure if I want to be," she breathed out, and the words made his shoulders fall.
It was the truth. She was a grounder—whether her people wanted her or not. She wasn't a part of hundred, not when so many of them were afraid of her presence and Bellamy ignored her advice. She felt that she belonged no where.
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Two days passed, and Astoria was sat in front of the grave they had made for Wells the week before. She missed the boy, especially because she had never need someone to talk to more.
Every thing was off. Lincoln remained a prisoner, and Bellamy no longer allowed her to see him. The hundred had grown more distant after Finn's attack, despite the boy now walking around again. The only upside was Astoria and Octavia had spent more time with one another as they sat on the main level of the dropship with hopes to sneak up and seen Lincoln.
She wasn't sure why she sought out the grave for comfort, but it was far enough away from camp that she only distantly heard the teenagers being rowdy. It was peaceful, and for the days she had been taking off from her patrols over the camp she needed peaceful.
Clarke interrupted it, but Astoria didn't mind too much. It wasn't until she started hearing the girls plan that she sighed.
"Not happening," she answered, standing to her feet and beginning to walk away. The blonde wanted her to help Bellamy find an old supply depot not far from the dropship, but a day trip with the man sounded like torture. It made sense to ask her; she was the best tracker apart from Finn, and with the map from the Ark, she would get them there long before nightfall. If she had the option to go alone she would have, but Clarke was set on her going with the eldest boy.
"We need those supplies, Toria," Clarke followed her, and the grounder sighed. It was true, but it didn't change her decision. "And I need you to talk to Bellamy—"
Astoria scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. It was interesting; she agreed to stay with the hundred so they could help one another, but all that had happened thus far was her helping them. "Not a chance," Clarke frowned at her words, "I haven't spoken to him since I got back after the storm, and I'm not changing that."
"I'm trying to get him pardoned by Jaha, and I'm trying to keep you safe once the Ark comes to the ground." The blondes words made Astoria still, tilting her head slightly as she turned to meet her eyes. The Ark was the sky peoples army, and it was an army that could keep her safe from her people. "You need to prove yourself to them—"
"I'm not listening to this," she turned to walk away again, but Clarke grabbed her arm.
"You get us those supplies—you get their children those supplies—and I'll make sure they know it was you who did it. That it was you who kept us alive." It was an interesting deal, but she didn't enjoy that after everything she had done she would only now be given credit. She had already done enough to keep the hundred alive.
But still, she didn't have many other choices. "How do you expect me to help Bellamy get pardoned?"
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Most of the walk to the supply depot was done in silence, and neither Astoria nor Bellamy made any effort to change that.
Before they left, Astoria pulled Octavia aside and planted the idea in her head to work on getting Lincoln out of the camp. With Bellamy gone, it would be much easier to accomplish the task.
Bellamy had also wordlessly returned her bow to her for the trip, walking up behind her as she packed a bag and dropping the weapon at her side. She hadn't thanked him, but he hadn't given her the chance before he spoke an annoyed "Let's get this over with," and ushered her to the camp exit. As she walked through the woods with Bellamy in tow, she felt more relaxed than she had the past two weeks.
She looked to the sky to keep them moving in the right direction, shifting to walk slightly more north as she considered the best way to get Bellamy to speak to the Chancellor.
"How long do you think you think you can avoid the inevitable for?" she questioned, not looking behind her as she did.
"What are you talking about?" his confusion was evident in his tone, and Astoria rolled her eyes.
She looked back at him for only a second, "Your people; they're coming down and you need to have a plan when they do."
"You've been running for however long, I can manage it as well," he all but muttered the words.
She scrunched her brows up. "Twelve long years," she informed him before she processed his words. "You're planning on leaving when they get down here?" she continued, and she wasn't surprised; since she'd known him, he had shown no talent in dealing with his problems head on. But she supposed she wasn't one to talk.
Bellamy didn't respond, and Astoria didn't press it any further. The atmosphere between them had grown increasingly more tense since their argument surrounding Lincoln. She had time to get him to talk to Jaha like Clarke wanted, but she knew if she forced it onto him he wouldn't budge.
They reached the area of the depot after another hour of walking, and the two had taken to splitting up to search the area. Clarke told her that it would have been built underground like a bunker, and would have a similar door that each level of the dropship had. She felt Bellamy watching her every so often, but didn't look up to catch him. Perhaps he felt guilty for what he had done during the storm; she didn't care.
Her foot got stuck on the handle, and she nearly fell to the grass below. She caught her balance and looked down the the dirt, not seeing anything inherently sticking out. Her brow furrowed, and she bent her knees and felt around. She pushed dirt, leaves, and other debris out of the way to reveal the metal door, and she quickly gripped the handle and attempted to pull. It didn't budge and Astoria grumbled a Trigedasleng curse under her breath.
She had no plans to call Bellamy for help, but when she went to look for him he was already walking towards her with his hand on his hatchet. She sighed, standing to her feet.
"It's stuck," she informed him, and he didn't say anything in return as he took the weapon from his hip and knelt down.
His roughly hit the handle with the hatchet, repeating the action until the entire door shifted with a creak. He stilled, looking up to Astoria and motioning to the metal. "Give me a hand," he asked, and she reached down to pull the latch up.
They revealed an old staircase that was covered in dust. Cobwebs were strung in each corner and she pulled out one of her arrows to move them out of the way. Bellamy reached into her bag to grab the flashlights, and she didn't fight against him despite finding it rude that he hadn't asked to rumble through her things.
Astoria went first, not waiting for Bellamy to offer, and her flashlight illuminated the dark room as it was revealed. She kept her arrow in her hand and removed any spider webs that were blocking her way, turning back for a moment to ensure that the man was with her. He caught her eyes and she quickly looked away.
"You never told me why your people are after you," Bellamy wondered out loud to break the silence. The two passed by the remains of someone who had seemingly been stuck for a long time, their skeleton lifeless and boney. The man shined his flashlight over it for a moment before they continued to move.
"You never asked," she mumbled as they reached the bottom, scanning their lights over the area. Buckets and barrels littered the maze of a space, and Astoria didn't know where to begin looking.
"Well," Bellamy started, looking to her and stilling completely. It was obvious he wanted to have the conversation before they started. "Why are they after you?"
She let her flashlight linger over one of the barrels, pretending to read the label on the side despite not being able to read English writing. After a moment she huffed, turning to face Bellamy with a stoic expression. He held the same, and Astoria wondered if they were ever going to return to their brief, non-hostile relationship.
"I killed someone important," she stated. She hadn't told any of the hundred her story, and it surprised her just as much as it surprised Bellamy that she chose him to be the first. "I was nine, and grieving, and didn't understand what I was doing would be permanent."
They both went silent, and just as Astoria went to start their search Bellamy took a step forward. "Grieving who?"
She froze, not happy that he had the guts to ask the question. They weren't friends—hell, they were barely allies—and he thought he had any right to ask her of her loss. When it was clear she wasn't going to answer, Bellamy shared a loss of his own.
"My mom," he spoke, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. What was he trying to do? "I'm the reason she—"
"What are you doing?" she questioned, making her confusion known. He was desperate to bring things back to what they were, but he still hadn't admitted that what he had done was wrong. She took a step closer, getting into his face. "You think you can tell me your darkest secrets and I'll forget—"
Bellamy cut her off by bringing a hand to the back of her head and closing the gap between them, kissing her deeply. Astoria arms remained at her sides, her fingers tightening around her flashlight in surprise.
The last thing she expect from Bellamy was for him to kiss her—not after every thing they had been through. He couldn't stand her for more than half the time he had known her, and for the other he had seemed to barely tolerate their interactions. Astoria could say the same; they weren't friends, just as she had said two days before. But, she supposed friends didn't share kisses in dark supply depots.
She brought her free hand to his chest, pushing him away and taking a deep breath. Her mouth hung open and she met his gaze, seeing an uncertainty on his face regarding if he make a mistake. With him this close, she noticed for the first time how beautiful his eyes were. She wasn't a fool; she knew that Bellamy was attractive, and perhaps if they didn't spend most of their at one another's throats she would have found herself with an adolescent crush on the man.
But even with all their arguments, and how stubborn he was, and how unwilling to share she was... when he kissed her it felt electric. And for a strange reason, she found herself wanting to do it again.
Her flashlight dropped to the floor with a clang, and she gripped Bellamy's neck to bring him close once more. He reacted immediately, kissing her with a passion that he never had for any of his previous hookups. Soon, his flashlight followed hers to the ground and he gripped her hips with a squeeze.
It wasn't her first kiss, but for a moment she felt embarrassed because of how long it had been. Soon, it was like she had done it a million times before. Perhaps it was because it was Bellamy she was kissing. He was guiding her chin up with one hand and pulling her closer with the other, moving her through the motion like he had kissed her a dozen times before. It was Astoria that swiped her tongue over his bottom lip, and Bellamy welcomed it with a low groan that sent her stomach spiralling.
They backed up slightly as Bellamy leaned into her further, and when Astoria felt her legs hit a barrel she was brought back to the supply room. She moved one hand to the plastic material, the other holding Bellamy's chest as she turned her head to the side. When they broke the kiss they both breathed heavy, though Astoria chewed her lips in thought. Her eyes fluttered shut and Bellamy kept his on her face.
When Astoria shook her head, his heart dropped to his feet. It was like the organ was ripped out and clutched tightly in her palm, waiting to be destroyed with a few words.
"We..." she stopped herself to think over what she wanted to say, wanting to get it right. "We shouldn't. Its..." she stopped again, not sure what to do next. Bellamy pulled away slightly, though he remained close. Almost hoping she would change her mind. "We need to start looking for stuff to bring back to the dropship."
She reached down and picked up her flashlight, leaving his on the cold floor along with his heart. Bellamy made no protests as she moved away to begin the search, but he brought his bottom lip between his teeth.
They searched in silence for ten minutes before Astoria found anything remotely useful, and the tension in the bunker was looming over them like a dark cloud. When she pulled the lid off a bin and reached in to touch a soft blanket, she looked to where the man was searching in another behind her.
"I've got some blankets over here," she finally found a reason to break the silence, but Bellamy didn't look up. "These'll be good back at camp."
She watched him shake his head, back still turned to her. "I was hoping for something a little more useful," he mumbled, clearly not impressed. She took a deep breath.
Astoria didn't know if it was due to the stress he had already been feeling for the past few days, or if it was due to the halt she put on their intimate moment, but she could see the annoyance leaving him in waves. "It's something, okay—"
"No it's not," his voice raised slightly, and she sighed as he turned to walk over to another barrel. He ripped the top off to expose a black liquid.
"Bellamy..." she tried, noting that the sight only aggravated him more.
"There's nothing here!" He brought his boot into the barrel, pushing it over and allowing the thick liquid to spill onto the floor. A loud bang clashed through the bunker and it caused Astoria to jump slightly. The sound of metal hitting against one another made Bellamy's eyes narrow, and he took a step closer and squatted by his mess.
Astoria wasn't sure what he knew that she didn't, but she watched intently as he reached into the liquid. "What is it—"
She stopped herself when she saw it; covered in the black, goo-liked substance was the largest gun she had ever seen. "Oh my god," the man whispered, whipping it clean the best he could. When he turned to Astoria there was a large smile stretched across his face.
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Guns terrified the grounder. Even the small one the Bellamy had carried around for his first few days on Earth made her uneasy. So, watching the man march around the bunker with the large rifle in his hand to hang a blanket with a freshly draw 'X' over it made her feel frozen. She trusted him not to use it immaturely, but that wasn't what she was afraid of.
Bellamy shoved a few nuts into his mouth, and Astoria regretted not bringing any of her own food to snack on. She never took any of the hundreds rations, but for the past two days since the storm she hadn't even paid attention to what they had foraged.
"You ready to exchange that bow for something a little for badass?" he questioned, holding out the gun for her to take.
She shook her head, and for she felt bad for how quickly some of his excitement vanished. But even with the sad look he tried to hide, Astoria couldn't bring herself to humour him and take the weapon.
She remembered the stories her mother told her when she was a girl about the Mountain Men and their promise to wipe out the village of anyone who dared pick up a gun. She didn't want to risk it, even if it had just been something to keep her from using the deadly weapons.
Bellamy tried to save the atmosphere, not wanting to return to the silent hostile one from before. "Alright," he stated cockily, rolling his shoulders slightly. "Watch and learn."
"By all means, janitor. Let's see what you've got," Astoria gestured to the 'X'. Bellamy didn't question who had told her of his old job, but he rolled his eyes as he got himself into the proper position to shoot. He brought the gun onto his shoulder, taking a breath before pulling the trigger. Astoria had leaned back slightly, preparing herself for the loud bang that never came. Instead, only a small click sounded from the gun.
She held back a snort, not wanting to test her luck on their rocky waters. He pulled a part of the gun back and a piece of metal fell to the the floor before he regained his stance. He pulled the trigger again and... click. Astoria couldn't stop the laugh this time.
"My bullets are duds," he defended and she nodded her head.
She watched as he put his gun down and picked a different one. "We can't just bring these back to camp without a plan. Imagine how differently everything would have gone with Murphy and Charlotte if we had guns in the dropship," Bellamy nodded along with her words, and Astoria couldn't help but notice that he wasn't truly paying attention.
He set himself up again before firing at the target, this time a bullet leaving the barrel and hitting just off the centre of the 'X'. She may not have liked guns, but Astoria had to admit it was impressive. She ignored how attractive she found him with the rifle in his hands, not understanding how two kisses could make her see him through new eyes.
Not understanding why she wanted to kiss him again so badly.
"You and Clarke can discuss that back at camp," he began, not making eye contact with Astoria as he moved to take another handful of nuts. "You should make a list of who gets to use them and when."
She shook her head, "I'm sure it'll be you and Clarke deciding that." Her tone made it seem like it was obvious, but when he didn't agree she grew stiff. She watched him closely, trying to read his thoughts if it was possible. She thought back on their day; how he planned to leave once his people reached the ground, how he hadn't tried to apologise or make amends with her... how he kissed her. "You're not coming back," it wasn't a question, she knew she was right. "That kiss... that was a goodbye."
Bellamy sighed, "I don't have another choice—"
"You're a coward," the words nearly made him flinch, but she didn't regret them.
"Don't call me that," he warned.
She didn't care, "You're just gonna leave everyone? Leave Octavia—?"
"Octavia will be fine without me—everyone will," he cut her off, not enjoying having his sister used against him. "I've done more harm than good to all of them—"
"You believe that? Really?" she wondered. He didn't meet her eyes. "You've kept those kids alive—"
"I shot the chancellor, Astoria! They're gonna kill me," Bellamy's voice grew louder and she stepped back. He regretted it immediately, but he didn't stop. "You ran, why can't I do the same?"
The question rang in her ears, and she shook her head. How couldn't he understand it? "Those aren't the same," she began, anger steadily growing in her voice. He went to interrupt her, but she stopped him. "At all," she cut off the start of his sentence. "I had no one. Everyone I knew was going to turn me in to the slaughter—even my own father wanted me dead. You have Clarke, Octavia, Jasper, and dozens of other teenagers fighting to get you pardoned. You have me trying to convince you to stay. So, they are not the same."
Her words sunk into his skin and made him feel even more guilty than he previously had. He didn't like that she was able to take any sense out of his argument. He just needed a break from her.
"I need some air," he muttered, placing his gun down on some barrels and leaving her alone in the rippling silence. Did he truly believe that she would allow him to abandon the hundred teenagers that relied on him? To abandon his sister?
She let out a groan, one of annoyance and stress and all the other confusing emotions she was littered with. She pulled her bow over her shoulder from where it rested on her back, grabbing an arrow from her quiver. A deep breath left her lips, but it didn't help her anxiety. She pulled back the string of her weapon and let her arrow fly, the pointed head shooting right through the 'X' on the blanket. She didn't need Bellamy's stupid guns.
Astoria huffed and lowered her weapon, moving to collect her arrow. She slowed slightly when she caught sight of the nuts Bellamy had been eating, the small pouch they were held in sitting atop a closed barrel. She furrowed her eyebrows, taking a step towards it and picking one up in her hand. She recognised them; before Lincoln had properly taught her what was safe to forage she had eaten the expired jobi nuts and been plagued with visions of her mother, brother and father.
It was then that she realised how much she had backed away from the hundred; before the storm she was sure to always check the food they brought back to camp to ensure it was safe to eat. They must've found the nut bush during her period of estrangement; when she hadn't bothered to make sure they were safe.
She brought the jobi nut up to her nose, taking a sniff and noting immediately that they had gone bad. If the whole camp had been eating them for the entire day, they were no doubt going mad with no one to supervise them. Bellamy had been eating them for the entire day; and now he was out there on his own.
Grunts and groans came from up the stairs and Astoria quickly moved her head towards the noise, knowing that the bad jobi nuts had began to take their toll on the man. She mumbled a quiet "Skrish," and tried to make her way to the outside, but a sharp pain erupting through her skull stopped her.
She groaned in pain, falling to her knees but fighting to remain conscious. She didn't get a look at her attacker before they brought the force down to her head again, and she was knocked out cold.
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When Astoria awoke to a searing pain in the back of her skull and a fuzzy line of sight, she quickly pushed herself to be sat on her knees. The sounds of a struggle from outside the bunker made her aware of where she was, and that someone had attacked her—and that Bellamy was in no condition to fight them off on his own.
Her hand went to grab an arrow from the quiver on her back, but found only empty air. Both arms flew to grab at her back, but she found the spot void of her ammunition. Panic serged through her, and she fumbled around the area in search for her bow as well, but both were gone.
She stood to her feet and her eyes landed on one of the rifles. Her stomach twisted and she felt sick as she moved towards it. She had no choice; the knife at her side was not going to be enough to stop their attacker, not if they had grabbed a gun on their way up to harm Bellamy. She didn't allow herself to think twice on it, picking up the cold metal and rushing up the stairs to the open air.
The groans became louder when she reached dirt and grass, and she was quick to follow the sounds to the altercation. She found a boy standing over Bellamy, a gun pointed between the older mans eyes. Astoria's bow and arrows were slung over his back and she held back a few curses. She needed the element of surprise.
She hesitantly rose her gun, trying to mimic the position Bellamy had took earlier. With a deep breath she let her finger hover over the weapons trigger. "Drop it," she told the boy, and he stilled. When he turned to face her, gun still pointed to Bellamy, Astoria was able to identify him as Dax, a boy she had never spoken to.
"The grounder's coming to your rescue, huh Bellamy?" he spoke, the word grounder holding so much venom it nearly caused Astoria to squirm. She held her ground as Dax moved his gun to be aimed her way instead. "I've wanted to kill you for a long time, and luckily for me Shumway said no witnesses."
She allowed her eyes to move to Bellamy for a moment. "Who the hell is Shumway?" she questioned, not understanding Dax's motives. She didn't want to kill the boy, but she would if she had to.
"He set it up," Bellamy spoke breathlessly from his spot in the dirt. "He gave me the gun to shoot the chancellor."
Astoria brought her eyes back to Dax, not caring what this Shumway had promised him in return for killing Bellamy. "Drop the gun," she tried once more, voice more threatening this time. Her mother's words warming her of the use of guns echoed in the back of her mind, but when she caught eyes with Bellamy once more she pushed them away. She wouldn't let him die.
"I'm not gonna do that," Dax told her, and he had barely got the words out before Astoria pushed in the trigger of her gun. Click. The same sound she had laughed at Bellamy for whilst inside the bunker carried through the air. The mans face dropped, but he didn't have long to dwell on it before Dax took a step towards her.
Astoria rushed to take cover behind a tree, her movement causing Dax to shoot blindly through the air. He missed her, but Bellamy still pushed himself to his feet and tackled the boy to make sure he couldn't try again. Pushed against the bark, Astoria attempted to fix the gun as she had seen Bellamy do earlier, but the metal was seemingly melded into place—that, or her inexperience with the weapon was catching up with her.
"Izi shuda!" she huffed, tossing it a few feet away and grabbing for the dagger at her hip. She held it tightly at her hands as she peaked out from behind the tree, spotting Dax with Bellamy pinned under him. A rifle was pressed tightly against the elder mans throat and was promptly cutting off his breathing.
Without a plan, Astoria rushed to her feet and dug her knife into Dax's shoulder. The boy screamed in pain, but he didn't loosen his grip on the rifle over Bellamy's throat. Instead, he only brought an elbow pack into Astoria's gut and knocked the wind clean out of her. She fell to the dirt and clutched herself, looking up just in time to watch Bellamy grab a bullet from the mud and jam it into Dax's neck.
He used enough force to deeply pierce the skin, and Astoria released a sigh of relief when she heard the man suck in a large breath of air. Bellamy had a shocked look on his face as he watched Dax's limp body fall from overtop of him, and he quickly pushed himself backwards until he was pressed against the bark of a tree. Astoria watched him closely, not moving from her spot.
"We're fine," she assured, noting the look of horror on the man's face. It was covered in dirt and blood and cuts. Strangely, she thought it made Bellamy look younger—more innocent. Like he was a kicked puppy needing love. "It's over, we're okay—"
"No, we're not," he quietly interrupted her, eyes locked on her own. "I'm not okay. If my mother... if she knew what I've done. Who I am," every word he spoke pinched Astoria's heart, and she wondered how she so quickly began to care about him. One moment of intimacy and suddenly she wanted to wrap him up and tell him everything was alright. But she wouldn't—they weren't good for one another. He was stubborn and rude, and she wasn't sure if she was even capable of love. "She raised me to be better, Astoria—to be good."
She shook her head, "Bellamy—"
"All I do is hurt people, I'm..." he stopped for a moment. "I'm a monster."
Astoria let a silence loom over them, not sure what to say. She wasn't good at comforting people—Charlotte proved that. Perhaps if she had said the right thing to the girl when she first heard of her nightmares, her and Wells would both be alive.
"We're both monsters," her words weren't comforting, but she didn't think that was what the man needed. "We've both done things we wish we hadn't—things that no good person would ever think of doing. Sometimes people need a monster. Someone to do what needs to be done. But your heart is good, Bellamy... I've seen it. Everything you do, you do because you want to help people." She paused, letting her words sink in. "I need you to come back with me," he shook his head slightly at her words, but she wasn't finished. "You can't just run away, Bellamy."
She got to her feet, gut still stinging lightly. With a huff she moved to be standing in front of him, hand out for him to take. "I won't if you won't, spaceman."
translations:
ai laik moba... i'm sorry
chich kom ai... talk to me
skrish... shit
izi shuda... useless weapon