Sleeping Beauty

            "Bring out the girl Bellamy!" Murphy's shouts flow in the entrance of Bellamy's tent.

            Inside, tension hangs thick in the air. Ronnie stands with her arms crossed, silent as her thoughts race. Why are they trying to save the girl who killed someone- her best friend, no less? Why not a life for a life? Should she be out there with Murphy instead of in here with the people planning Charlotte's escape?

            "Why Charlotte?" Bellamy finally asks the young girl.

            "I was just trying to slay my demons, like you told me," she answers innocently.

            Ronnie's breath catches, snapping her back into the moment.

            "What the hell is she talking about?" Clarke snaps, glaring at Bellamy. He looks so upset that, for the first time, Ronnie feels bad for him.

           "That's not what he meant, Clarke," Ronnie says, surprising even herself by defending him. Clarke's eyes widen, caught off guard by Ronnie's support. But Ronnie quickly turns to Charlotte. "That's not what he meant, Charlotte! You can't just kill someone!"

            "Bring the girl out now!" Murphy shouts again, backed by an angry chorus outside.

            Ronnie clenches her jaw. "My pleasure." She grabs Charlotte's shoulder, yanking her forward. The girl wails and squirms in her grasp.

            "No! Please, Bellamy!" Charlotte cries, breaking free and scrambling behind him.

            Bellamy shoots a hard look at Ronnie. "That's enough."

            Ronnie takes a step toward Bellamy, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Why are you trying to save her, Bellamy?" she demands, voice low but sharp. "She killed someone. My best friend. You were ready to let Murphy hang for it- what makes her so different?"

            Bellamy runs a hand through his curls, jaw tightening. "She's just a kid, Ronnie," he argues. "She was scared."

            Ronnie lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "We're all scared, You don't see the rest of us running around with knives in the middle of the night, slitting throats."

            Bellamy steps closer, his expression torn between frustration and something softer- maybe guilt. "I didn't tell her to do this," he mutters, voice thick. "I told her to fight her demons, not-" He exhales sharply, hands on his hips. "I messed up."

            Ronnie stares at him for a long moment, her anger wavering as she sees the weight of it all settling on him. "Yeah," she finally says, quieter now. "You did."

            Bellamy swallows hard, glancing at the tent's entrance where the mob outside is growing louder. "I have to stop this before it turns into a bloodbath."

            Ronnie watches him for a beat before shaking her head. "Go. But don't expect me to stand in the way of justice, Bellamy."

            Bellamy exhales sharply but doesn't respond. Instead, he kneels in front of Charlotte, speaking softer now. "Charlotte, hey, it's going to be okay. Just stay with them." His eyes flicker to Ronnie with something unreadable before he turns and steps out of the tent.

            Ronnie watches Clarke and Finn slip out through the back of the tent with Charlotte. She stays put, her stomach twisting as Murphy's shouts grow more aggressive. Then, she hears the sickening crack of wood against flesh. She rushes out just in time to see Bellamy hit the ground.

            "Murphy, what the hell?" she shouts, shoving him backward. He scrambles up, ready to fight, but she sees the flicker of hesitation in his eyes- he remembers what she did to him earlier. "Go. Find the girl," she mutters, watching as the others disperse to hunt Charlotte down.

            Ronnie drops to her knees beside Bellamy, checking for injuries. Murphy hit him hard, but not hard enough to draw blood. Still, he's out cold. She grips him under the arms and hauls him toward his tent, rolling him onto his cot. The she sits down across from him, arms crossed, and waits.

~*~

            Ronnie's own eyes began to droop as she waits for Bellamy to wake until a low groan pulls her attention. Bellamy stirs, blinking groggily. "Well, good morning Sleeping Beauty," she mutters.

            He grunts, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell happened?"

            "Murphy happened," Ronnie deadpans. "Clocked you good. I dragged your sorry ass back in here. Figured you'd rather wake up in your own tent than sprawled out in the dirt."

            Bellamy huffs out something that might have been amusement, but there's now real humor in it. He looks at her then, eyes dark and tired. "You really would've handed her over, wouldn't you?"

            Ronnie holds his gaze, unflinching. "Yeah, I would've." She shifts slightly, expression hard. "Wells didn't deserve to die just because Charlotte was afraid of his father, Bellamy. You think Charlotte's just a kid? So was he. We all are."

            Bellamy exhales through his nose, looking away. "I know." His voice is quiet, laced with regret. "I know."

            Something in Ronnie softens at his admission, but she doesn't let it show. Instead, she sighs, pushing herself up. "Well, let's go. We have a hell of a mess to deal with."

           "We?" Bellamy's eyebrows dart up in surprise.

           "Yes, we." Ronnie sighs, and runs a hand over her face. "She took Wells from me, but she doesn't deserve to be hogtied like Murphy. Even he didn't deserve that- hell, no one deserves that- but I do think that there needs to be some kind of consequence." Ronnie explains, and Bellamy nods, taking in her words.

            "We'll figure that out once we save her from Murphy," Bellamy says and places a hand on Ronnie's shoulder. "Let's go."

            Once Bellamy is on his feet, the two quickly race through the dark woods, scanning for any sign of Charlotte, Clarke, and Finn. They soon spot Charlotte running alone, her small frame darting through the trees. How she got away from Clarke and Finn is a mystery, but they don't have time to question it. Bellamy surges forward and grabs her before she can slip away again.

            "Let me go!" Charlotte screeches, struggling in his grip. Ronnie scans the area and sees the glow of torches in the distance.

            "Bellamy, they're close," Ronnie warns, pointing in the direction of the approaching mob.

            Bellamy tightens his hold on Charlotte, trying to move faster, but the girl makes it difficult by thrashing wildly in his arms. "Murphy! I'm over here!" Charlotte suddenly calls out, her voice carrying through the trees.

            Bellamy curses under his breath. "Damn it, Charlotte!"

            The woods erupt with movement as Murphy and his group close in. Bellamy sprints with Charlotte in his arms, Ronnie right behind him. They burst into a clearing and skid to a stop at the edge of a cliff. Bellamy's stomach drops as he takes in the sheer drop.

            "Damn," Ronnie breathes beside him, her eyes flicking over the ledge.

             "Charlotte!" Murphy's voice is close now, and then he appears, flanked by his followers. Bellamy instinctively shifts to shield the small girl behind him. "Damn it, Bellamy, you can't fight all of us. Give her up," Murphy demands, his voice filled with rage.

            Bellamy squares his shoulders. "Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you with me." He takes a step forward, ready to stand his ground, but Ronnie steps in front of him, blocking his path.

            "Guys, this has gone too far. Just calm down, and we can sort something out," she says, trying to defuse the situation. She barely has time to react before an arm snakes around her stomach, and something cold and metallic presses against her neck.

            "Stop taking. You're the one who threw fists first," Murphy hisses in her ear, his grip tight.

            A chill runs down Ronnie's spine, but she refuses to let the fear show. "Oh, please. You've had that coming since the day you threatened my best friend's life."

            Murphy presses the knife harder against her skin, enough to draw blood. Bellamy tenses, hands clenching into fists.

            "Let her go," Bellamy says, his voice low and dangerous. He takes a slow step forward, but Murphy tightens his grip.

            "If any of you come closer, I'll kill her," Murphy threatens. "I'm serious. Another inch, and Ronnie here will be bleeding out."

            Out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie sees Clarke and Finn step out from behind the brush silently watching with concern.

            "No, please! Please don't hurt her!" Charlotte suddenly pleads, stepping out from behind Bellamy.

            "Don't hurt her?" Murphy repeats mockingly. "Okay. I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, and I'll let her go."

            "Don't do it, Charlotte," Bellamy warns, voice firm.

            "No! I have to!" Charlotte insists, her voice cracking. "Murphy, this is not happening. I can't let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did."

            Bellamy sees it before anyone else does. The shift in Charlotte's stance, the resolution in her eyes. "Charlotte, no!" he shouts, but it's too late.

            She turns and throws herself off the cliff.

            "Charlotte!" Clarke screams as the girl vanishes over the edge. A sickening silence follows.

            Murphy's grip loosens in shock. Ronnie seizes the moment, yanking his arm off her and shoving him hard to the ground. She straddles him, pinning him down, her breath ragged. "Remember what I said I'd do to you if you ever touched me again?" she says, voice menacing.

            She raises a fist, ready to strike, but suddenly she's being pulled back. Finn drags her off Murphy, restraining her as she thrashes against his hold. Bellamy wastes no time, launching himself at Murphy and delivering a brutal punch.

            "Bellamy, stop!" Clarke yells, but Bellamy ignores her. He keeps hitting Murphy, his anger unrelenting.

            Ronnie stops resisting Finn, who then races over to Bellamy. "Get off me!" Bellamy roars when Finn pulls him away. "He deserves to die!"

            "No, he doesn't! The one who deserved to die just jumped off the cliff!" Ronnie snaps, her chest heaving.

            Bellamy whirls on her, ready to argue, but the words die in his throat when he sees her face. The fire in her eyes is gone, replaced with something raw and shattered. Charlotte had taken Wells from her- and now, she was gone too.

            "No. We don't decide who lives and dies. Not down here," Clarke says, her voice firm but shaken.

            "So help me God, if you say the people have a right to decide-"

            "No. I was wrong before, okay? You were right. Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're gonna survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules." Clarke cuts him off, and Ronnie nods slightly in agreement.

            Bellamy scoffs, his blood still boiling. "And who makes those rules, huh? You?"

            "For now, we make the rules," Clarke says evenly.

            Bellamy exhales sharply. "So, what then? We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?"

            "No. We banish him," Clarke says with finality.

            Ronnie scoffs. "No, you can't! I'll be honest, Murphy's not my favorite person, but he really didn't do anything wrong."

            Bellamy doesn't acknowledge her words. His mind is made up. "Get up," he orders Murphy. Once the boy in on his feet, Bellamy grabs him and shoves him toward the cliff's edge. "If I ever catch you near camp again, we'll be back here. Understand?" He glances back to the small group who were with Murphy. "As for the four of you, you can come back and follow me, or go off with him to die. Your choice."

            "You can't do this!" Ronnie steps forward, desperate. "Please, Bellamy!"

            "Like I said to them- follow me, or go off with him to die," he repeats coldly.

            Ronnie watches as the others hesitate before ultimately following Bellamy. The weight of it all settles heavy in her chest. "Look me in the eyes and say that," she challenges.

            Bellamy finally meets her gaze. There's conflict there, flickering behind his anger. He exhales, shoulders tense. "You know I can't do that, Ronnie."

            She nods, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. "That's what I thought."

~*~

            The group makes it back to camp, but Ronnie lingers behind, her feet dragging toward the graves Wells started. There are four now- two of them freshly turned. She kneels by the newest mound, then, with a quiet exhale, lies down beside it, her cheek pressing against the cold earth.

             "Hey, Wells," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't even know where to start." The words feel foreign on her tongue, like they don't belong in the air but rather buried with him beneath the soil. She swallows against the lump in her throat.

            "I'm sorry for all the crap I put you through on the Ark. I was such a little brat, always getting us into trouble, and you Neve once turned your back on me. I don't know how I got so lucky to have you. You were always there, no matter what." Her voice shakes, and she sucks in a sharp breath when a tear slips free. She wipes it away harshly, as if that small act of weakness is a betrayal.

             "I told myself I wouldn't cry in front of you," she continues, trying to force a smirk, but it falters immediately. "I wanted you to know that I'd be okay. That I could handle this without you." Her lips press into a thin line, her body trembling against the dirt. "But who am I kidding? You would've seen right through me. You always did."

            She exhales a soft, broken chuckle.

            "Without you, I don't know how to hold this all together. You were my anchor. You kept me from making stupid, reckless choices, and the first chance I had without you, I punched Murphy without a second thought." A ghost of a smirk tugs at her lips, just for a second. "I think you would've been proud though."

            Silence settles between them- one-sided but heavy with everything left unsaid.

            "God, Wells, I miss you so much," she whispers, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. "And it's only been a day." Her fingers curl into the dirt, as if she could reach him through it. She lets herself sit in the stillness for a moment longer before pressing a hand to the mound, a silent goodbye.

            "May we meet again, best friend. I love you." Her breath hitches.

            She stands, her movements slow, reluctant, and wipes away another tear. As she turns back toward camp, she spots Clarke waiting for her. Without hesitation, Clarke steps forward, and before either of them can say a word, they're in each other's arms. Ronnie grips her tightly, her fingers clutching the fabric of Clarke's jacket like it's the only thing keeping her upright.

            "I'm sorry," Clarke breathes into her hair.

            "Me too." Ronnie's voice is barely there, just a whisper between them.

            They hold on for a moment longer, two people bound by grief and understanding. Finally, Ronnie pulls away just enough to meet Clarke's eyes. "From now on, I've got your back. No matter what."

            Clarke nods, a faint smile ghosting over her lips despite the sorrow in her eyes. "Come on. Let's go check on Monty."

            They walk to the drop ship together, arms slung over each other. As soon as they step inside, sparks fly, the lights flicker, and Jasper curses from upstairs. The two girls clamber up the ladder to see Monty, Jasper, Octavia, and Finn all staring wide eyed at the wristband.

            "What the fuck just happened? And why the hell didn't you wait for me?" Ronnie demands, pushing through the small crowd gathered around the failed attempt at communication.

            Monty stares at the mess of fried wires. "It didn't work," he mutters. "I think we fried them all."

            There was a beat of silence as the group comes down from the initial shock of failure. Then Jasper storms out, Octavia following after him. Monty looks up at Ronnie, desperation flickering in his eyes. "What do we do now?"

            Before she can answer, Finn shoves past them, rage barely restrained, and Clarke follows. Ronnie's stomach twists. Her breath feels shallow, like all the air has been sucked from the room. They're gone. They think we're dead.

            Her father. The thought alone is enough to break her. She stumbles out of the drop ship, blinking rapidly against the tears burning her vision. Her world blurs- and then she collides with someone.

            Strong hands catch her. "Ronnie, what's wrong?"

            Of course, it's Bellamy. Of course, he's the one who always seems to find her like this- when she's unraveling. She lets out a bitter laugh, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is just golden." She shoves past him, but he doesn't let up.

            "Ronnie, come on," he pleads, following her. "What happened now?"

            She stops so abruptly that he nearly crashes into her. Her hands go to her hair, tugging at it as she spins to face him. Her brown eyes, hollow and raw, lock onto his. "You want to know what just happened, Bellamy?" she hisses. Then before he can react, she shoves him. "We're all dead to the Ark. You happy?"

            He barely moves, but she shoves him again, harder this time.

            "You got your damn wish!" She keeps pushing, unleashing every ounce of rage and heartbreak onto him, but he doesn't fight back. He just takes it, letting her hit him with everything she has.

             "Ronnie," he says firmly. She shoves him again. "Ronnie, please." Another shove. "Ron, stop!" Before she can strike again, his hands shoot out, gripping her arms, holding her still. She jerks, trying to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

            Her breath is ragged. A tear slips down her cheek. She freezes.

            Bellamy hesitates, searching her face for what she needs, and then, in one swift motion, he pulls her against him.

            She stiffens at first- but then, just like before, his arms around her feel safe. Familiar. A barrier between her and the crushing weight of grief. Her fingers clutch at his shirt as sobs wrack through her, shaking her to her core.

            He just holds her tighter, grounding her.

            Minutes pass.

            Finally, her sobs quiet. She pulls back slightly, her fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt. "Bell-?" Her voice cracks, only allowing her to speak the first half of his name.

            He glances down at her, his expression unreadable.

            Her lip quivers. "I'm sorry."

            His brows furrow.

            "I'm sorry for pushing you, releasing my rage on you. For everything today, actually. For-" Her voice falters.

            Bellamy exhales, then nods. "I know." He lets her go. And just like that, the warmth is gone. The girl he had just held together is now standing in front of him, a hollowed-out version of herself once more. And that- more than anything- makes his chest ache.