Knight in Worn-out Combat Boots

            The storm had passed, leaving the camp drenched and quiet. Ronnie took shelter inside the drop ship, peeling off her soaked jacket and hanging it over the ladder's rung. The space felt smaller now, suffocating with the weight of exhaustion and frustration. Spotting her radio discarded near the crates, she sighed in relief. At least something hadn't been lost to the chaos of the day.

            Settling onto the cold metal floor, she gathered the pieces and began tinkering, her fingers moving on autopilot. She should have used her cornea slip earlier, tried to reach the Ark before the signal was lost- but there hadn't been time. And even if she had, what were the chances it would have worked from thousands of miles away? The thought made her chest tighten.

            Her eyes drooped as exhaustion clawed at her, and she drifted into brief moments of sleep, only to be jolted awake by the sound of giggling. Two delinquents stumbled into the ship, whispering and laughing, their intentions obvious. Ronnie shot them a glare, and they froze like children caught stealing candy. Wordlessly, they turned on their heels and scurried back out.

            She sighed. A hookup now and then? Sure. But not when she was trying to work. And sleep.

            The next time it happened, she didn't even bother. Another pair of prisoners snuck in, waiting for her to tell them off. Instead, she stood, stretched, and clapped the boy on the back as she passed.

            "You know what? I need a break. Have fun."

            Stepping outside, Ronnie inhaled the crisp post-rain air. The scent of damp earth grounded her, but something else caught her attention- two figures slipping away from camp. Her brows knitted together as she spotted Wells walking with Bellamy. That didn't make sense.

            Without hesitation, she followed.

            Keeping her steps light, she trailed them at a distance until Bellamy suddenly stopped and pulled something from his waistband. Moonlight glinted off the metal of a gun. Ronnie's stomach twisted.

            "That's far enough," Bellamy said, his voice low, almost regretful. "I don't wanna shoot you, Wells. Hell, I like you. But I need them to think you're dead."

           Ronnie stiffened behind a boulder, gripping it as if it could anchor her. What the hell was Bellamy playing at?

            "Why?" Wells demanded, his voice steady despite the weapon aimed at him. "Why are you doing this? The real reason. Not some crap about getting to do whatever you want."

            Bellamy exhaled sharply. "I have my reasons. And I have the gun." He tilted his head. "So I ask the questions. Why aren't you helping me? Your dad banished you, Wells. And yet here you are, still doing his bidding, following his rules. Aren't you tired of always doing what's expected of you? Take off that wristband. Stand up to him." His lips curled into a smirk. "You'll be amazed at how good it feels."

            Ronnie rolled her eyes. Bold words from someone who never had a wristband to begin with.

            Wells didn't hesitate. "No. Never. If they think I'm dead, then Ronnie's father will think she is dead. That's not happening."

            Bellamy's smirk faltered. "Yeah," he muttered, tucking the gun away. "I figured."

            Before Ronnie could fully process that small victory, rustling in the brush sent her heart hammering. Two more boys emerged from the shadows. Wells barely had time to react before they grabbed him. He struggled, but their grip was ironclad.

            Ronnie didn't think. She moved.

            "Hey! Get off him!"

            She leaped over the boulder and stormed toward them, her pulse roaring in her ears. One of the boys barely had time to turn before she grabbed a thick branch off the ground and swung. The wood cracked against the back of his head, and he crumpled like a rag doll.

            The others hesitated.

            "I said, let him go," she seethed, gripping the branch like a weapon.

            Murphy- of course he was involved- snorted but backed off, hands raised in mock surrender. The remaining boys exchanged glances before releasing Wells, shoving him away roughly. Ronnie wasted no time, gripping his wrist and yanking him to his feet. The band was still intact.

            She turned to Bellamy, breath heavy, anger simmering beneath her skin. Her fingers twitched around the branch as she pressed it against his chest.

            "The only way the Ark will think he's dead is if he actually is." Her voice was quiet but sharp as glass. "Touch him again, and you'll answer to me."

            Their eyes locked. Bellamy didn't flinch, but something unreadable flickered in his expression. The others waited for his command, but he said nothing.

            Satisfied, Ronnie tossed the stick aside and pushed past him, dragging Wells toward camp. Her head throbbed with frustration, with exhaustion, with the ever-growing problem that was Bellamy Blake.

            Bellamy watched them go, his jaw tight.

            "Well, that backfired," Murphy muttered.

            "No shit, Sherlock." Bellamy's voice was edged with irritation. His gaze lingered on Ronnie as she disappeared into the distance. He'd miscalculated. Again. If he wanted her on his side, he needed a new plan.

            And this time, he wouldn't fail.

~*~

            Ronnie and Wells took shelter in the drop ship, away from the prying eyes of the camp. She sat cross-legged on the cold metal floor, tools scattered around her as she worked on fixing her radio. Every few seconds, though, her gaze flicked up to Wells.

            For the millionth time.

            "Ron, I haven't moved since we got back," Wells said, exasperated but amused.

            Ronnie sighed, letting her tools clatter onto the floor. Running a hand through her tangled hair, she rubbed her face. "I know, but... Bellamy's an ass."

            Wells chuckled. Yeah, that checked out.

            Her frustration was familiar- constant, even. It reminded him of the first time she'd stood up for him.

            The free period had been uneventful until Axel decided to make it his mission to ruin Wells' day. One second, Wells had been reading; the next, his book was ripped from his hands.

            "Come on Wells, you've got to try harder than that," Axel taunted, holding the book high above his head. Wells jumped for it, but he was still shorter than most of the other kids in his grade. His fingers barely grazed the pages.

            "Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

            A young Ronnie Sinclair appeared beside him, standing almost a head taller than Wells at the time. Without hesitation, she pushed him lightly aside and squared up to Axel. Before the boy could react, she snatched the book back and drove her elbow straight into his nose.

            Axel staggered back, hands flying to his face. When he pulled them away, blood trickled down his upper lip.

            "What's going on over here?" Mr. Pike's voice cut through the tension as he rounded the corner.

            Ronnie didn't even hesitate. "Axel tripped and ate dirt."

            Axel, still cradling his nose, nodded along- better to admit clumsiness than the truth.

            Pike eyed Ronnie suspiciously but didn't push it. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, guiding Axel away.

            As soon as they were gone, Ronnie turned to Wells and handed him his book.

            "You didn't have to do that," he said, still in awe.

            She shrugged. "No, I definitely did. Axel's a jerk."

            Wells watched as Ronnie focused on her radio again, tinkering with the wires. He smirked. "You know you didn't have to be my knight in shining armor, right?"

            "I wasn't," she muttered without looking up. "I was your knight in worn-out combat boots."

            Wells chuckled. Yeah, that also checked out.

            Ronnie sighed as she caught him staring toward the drop ship entrance. She knew that look.

            "Go ahead," she relented, waving him off. "Just keep your eyes out for Bellamy and his bitches."

            Wells grinned, playfully punching her shoulder before slipping out into the camp.

            Ronnie exhaled and returned to her work. She knew she couldn't watch over Wells every second of the day. But damn if she wouldn't try.

~*~

            It takes Ronnie another hour, but she finally pieces the radio back together. She exhales, wiping the sweat from her brow, and hovers a finger over the power button. Before she can press it, the heavy clunk of boots hitting the drop ship floor pulls her attention away.

            Standing there, shirtless, is none other than Bellamy Blake.

            Her cheeks heat against her will as his gaze flickers toward her. She tries to look away, but it's too late- Bellamy catches her staring and smirks before throwing her a wink.

            Arrogant ass.

            Ronnie rolls her eyes, the effect he has on her only makes her irritation worse. Before she can bite out a remark, a girl drops down behind him. Ronnie's expression sours further. Of course, Bellamy Blake wouldn't be alone. With an air of smug satisfaction, he turns and disappears out of the drop ship.

            She grits her teeth, shaking off the distraction, and refocuses on her radio. With a deep breath, she presses the power button.

            Nothing.

            No static. No flicker of light. No goddam response.

            Frustration boils over.

            With a furious growl, she snatches up the radio, storms out of the drop ship, and hurls it into the woods. It smashes against a tree, pieces scattering into the dirt. Ronnie collapses onto the leaf-covered ground, burying her face in her hands.

            Breath. Get it together.

            After a moment, she pulls herself up and dusts off her pants. She'll just have to start over. But before she can return to her work, the distant sounds of shouting and scuffling draw her attention.

            "Oh what now?" she mutters, already moving toward the commotion.

            When she breaks through the trees, she finds Wells and Murphy in the middle of a fight.

            Of course.

            Ronnie sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. Can she not leave Wells alone for five damn minutes without him getting into trouble?

            She pushes through the gathered crowd just as another voice cuts through the chaos.

            "Wells! Let him go!"

            Ronnie turns, searching for the source, and her gaze lands on a blonde girl shoving through the crowd. Recognition hits instantly.

            Clarke Griffin.

            Her old friend.

            And, of course, Clarke immediately assumes Wells started it.

            Ronnie barely has time to process Clarke's appearance before Finn's voice breaks through.

            "We didn't make it to Mount Weather."

            Ronnie's head snaps toward him, her lips parting slightly. Another familiar face.

            "Then what the hell happened out there?" Bellamy demands, stepping closer to the returning group.

            "We were attacked," Clarke answers, her voice steady but grim.

            A chill runs through Ronnie.

            Attacked?

            "Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong." Clarke continues. "There are people here, survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us."

            "Yeah," Finn adds. "The bad news is the Grounders will."

            Ronnie stiffens. She had been afraid of this- of the unknown, of what might still lurk in the shadows of this ruined world.

            "Where's the kid with goggles?" Wells asks, noticing the absence of one of their own.

            "Jasper was hit. They took him," Clarke says, her voice tight with regret.

            Ronnie's stomach sinks. They lost someone already.

            Before she can dwell on it, Clarke's sharp gaze sweeps over the group, landing on the delinquents without wristbands.

            "Where are your wristbands?" she demands.

            Ronnie scoffs, folding her arms. "Ask Bellamy."

            Bellamy barely spares her a glance, but Clarke zeroes in on Ronnie for the first time. Her blue eyes widened.

            "Ronnie?" Disbelief colors her tone. "How the hell did you get here?"

            Ronnie deadpans. "I apparated."

            Clarke rolls her eyes, exhaling through her nose.

            Ronnie shrugs. "How do you think I got here, Clarke?" I came down in the drop ship like the rest of you."

           There's no time to catch up. Clarke turns back to Bellamy, her expression hardening. "Tell me how many."

            Bellamy hesitates, but before he can answer, Murphy steps forward. "Twenty-four and counting."

            Ronnie's stomach twists. That's a quarter of their people. The Ark thinks they're dead.

            "You idiots," Clarke snaps. "Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they sent us down here. They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us."

            Ronnie sweeps her gaze over the crowd, her voice quieter but no less firm. "I don't know about you all, but I'd like to actually live my life. Not die before I have a chance to live it. And I'd really like to see my family again. I hope some of you do, too."

            Bellamy steps forward, the weight of his presence shifting the crowd's attention to him. "We're stronger than you think," he counters, "Don't listen to them. They're some of the privileged. Hell, Ronnie isn't even a criminal. If they come down, they'll have it good."

            All eyes snap to her. Ronnie tenses, instinctively stepping behind Wells.

            "How many of you can say the same?" Bellamy continues, voice rising with conviction. "We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore! They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals! You're fighters. Survivors. The Grounders should be afraid of us!"

            The crowd erupts into cheers, swept up in his words. Clarke shakes her head, disgusted, and storms off. The delinquents begin to disperse, their excitement drowning out everything else.

            Ronnie doesn't join them.

            Instead, she kneels, picking up one of the discarded wristbands. Her fingers trail over the device, something she had worked so hard on- now tossed aside like trash.

            A gentle hand rests on her shoulder. "Come on, Ronnie. Let's go."

            She glances up at Wells, then back at the wristbands.

            "Wait," she says suddenly. "Grab a few of these."

            Wells raises a brow but does as she asks, scooping up a handful.

           A slow grin spreads across her face.

            "I think I know how we can talk to the Ark."

            Nearby, Bellamy watches as Ronnie walks away, wristbands clutched in her arms. His jaw tightens. He's heard every word.

            If she makes contact with the Ark, everything he's worked for- everything he's trying to build- will be destroyed.

            His expression darkens.

            "Burn the rest of them," he orders Murphy.

            Murphy smirks, tossing the remaining wristbands into the fire.

            Bellamy doesn't look away as they burn.