𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓/𝟏.𝟏𝟓.
☆ FAMILIAR FACES ☆
"𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼? 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾."

☆꧁*꧂☆

   AS THEY DESCENDED a few stairs, Clarke handed them both flashlights to lighten up their surroundings. Allaia quickly clicked on it, illuminating the depot with meager light. She looked around with curiosity, instantly noticing an inscription Emergency Aid Depot #23  written on a wall. 

"You really think this place hasn't been touched since the war?" Bellamy asked incredulously, glancing at extensive spider webs all over the place.

"A girl can dream." Clarke replied, holding out her own torch. "Come on."

   Allaia and Bellamy followed the blonde who was going deeper underground. In consternation, Alle paused abruptly, gazing at the rotting skeleton covered in layers of dust. Remains of guard uniform were loosely dangling on the corpse's decomposing bones. 

"Okay, this is like super creepy." Allaia concluded, her features contorting in aversion. 

"Hell of a place to die." Bellamy muttered, walking even further into the depot. 

"So much for living down here. This place is disgusting." Clarke stated. "Damn it."

"Anything left down here is ruined." Bellamy said bitterly.

"Oh, for real?" Allaia mocked. "Thanks, I didn't notice."

"They must've distributed most of the supplies before the last bombs went off." Clarke suggested. 

Allaia sighed. "Well, that's a shame. I thought we'd meet an entirely new community living their best life in this lovely bunker. You know, the more the merrier." She smiled. 

"Still had not enough Grounders?" Bellamy shook his head in disbelief, gazing at her with amusement. 

"It's always nice to meet new people!" Allaia protested.

"Even if they're trying to kill you?" He scoffed. 

Alle pouted playfully. "I guess it depends on the circumstances. But generally, yes." 

"You're truly unbelievable, love." Bellamy laughed. 

   Hundreds of boxes cluttered the room. Bellamy opened one of the containers, grabbing onto something and waving it until it glimmered with neon orange light. Clarke tugged on another crate, cracking it open and revealing a pile of fluffy blankets. 

"Hey, I found blankets." Clarke called out.

"Excited about a couple of blankets?" Bellamy snorted angrily.

"Well, it's something." Allaia protested.

"Well, how about a canteen or a med kit or a decent freaking tent?" Bellamy yelled, slamming his fist down on a metal barrel. 

   He yanked the tub open and placed his hand on the liquid, grimacing in disgust, seeing the sticky grease. Out of ire, Bellamy rapidly kicked the barrel over. Oil spilled onto the floor, accompanied by strange clicks. With furrowed brows, he diverted his cast at the blindsided container, quickly leaning over its content and shining his flashlight at it.

"Oh, my God." Bellamy gasped.

"What?" Clarke and Allaia inquired concurrently, quickly approaching him.

Bellamy swiftly lifted a machine gun and grinned at Allaia with a boyish smile.

"Holy shit." Allaia exhaled excitedly. 

"This changes everything." Bellamy stated. "No more running from spears. Ready to be a badass, angel?" He winked at her playfully.

"Duh." Allaia smirked, quickly eating a few nuts.

"Look, I'm not gonna fight you on bringing guns back to camp." Clarke admitted. "I know we need them, but don't expect me to like it."

"I can learn how to shoot, but I won't touch a gun unless there's no other option." Allaia warned. 

"We're lucky the rifles were in grease. The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore." Bellamy tried to reason with both girls. "You need to learn how to do this." He said firmly. 

   Allaia nodded and unsurely stepped forward. Clumsily, she lifted the gun and incompetently pointed it at the orange sheet with a giant X written in the middle of it, mirroring a target for practice's purpose. 

"So I just hold it on my shoulder?" Allaia asked quietly, having issues with angling the pistol in the right way.

"Yeah." Bellamy confirmed. "A little higher, yeah." 

   Slowly, he drew close Alle, placing one of his hands on the gun and the other on her shoulder blade, gently steadying her grip on the weapon. Rousing sparkles weaved between their bodies, sending an intoxicating thrill down Bellamy's spine. The intensity of these glimmers addled Bellamy, enchanting him into an alluring trance. His eyes were locked on Allaia's face in reverie — her focused expression even added cuteness to her gorgeous features, and the way she held the gun, pointing at the target, caused her to look insanely hot. This coalescence combined with Allaia's personality and intelligence was addictive and Bellamy knew that too well.

"Yeah. Uh— That's good. Um, watch and learn, love." Bellamy told her. 

   Bellamy hoisted up his pistol and aimed with it at the target. He pulled a trigger, firing a shot, but instead of a bullet piercing through the sheet, a slight click resonated. In confusion, Bellamy quickly reloaded the gun and repeated the sequence, but nothing happened.

"Still watching." Clarke pointed out with irony.

"And not impressed at all." Allaia taunted. 

"My bullets are duds." Bellamy replied. "Try yours, angel."

   Allaia shyly stepped forward, raising her pistol at the target. Adrenaline sharpened her senses as she held a breath in the highest concentration, trying her best to precisely admeasure her shot. She pulled the trigger, firing her first bullet ever, obviously missing the X. 

"That was so freaking cool!" Allaia grinned. 

"You didn't even hit the X." Bellamy laughed. 

"At least it scratched the target!" She protested. "I mean, the blanket. Fuck that stupid letter. You didn't even make a shot, loser."

"Yeah, like you're such a pro, sweetheart." Bellamy scoffed. "I didn't make the shot, because my bullets were duds!" He defended himself. "I can prove to you how good I am with a gun, love. Just say the word." He whispered.

"Excuses." Allaia mocked. "Maybe another time, Bell. Your turn, Clarkey!" 

   Shaking her head with disbelief, Clarke aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the orange sheet, causing the blonde to smile sincerely.

"That was amazing!" Clarke beamed. "Am I horrible for feeling that?"

"Try again." Bellamy smiled.

"No, we shouldn't waste the ammunition." Clarke denied.

"You need to practice." Bellamy argued sternly.

"No, we need to talk about how we're gonna keep guns around camp." Clarke pressed. "Where are we gonna keep them? Who has access?"

   Allaia didn't bother sharing her opinion since she was staring at Bellamy reloading his gun, raising it in the air and pointing it at the target, shooting off another bullet adroitly hitting the X.

"You left Miller in charge of the Grounder." Clarke noticed. "You must trust him."

"You both should keep him close." Bellamy replied with gritted teeth. "The others listen to him."

"We should keep him close?" Allaia asked in confusion. "You've been acting weird all day. Bell, what the hell is going on?"

   Vaguely, Bellamy averted his gaze towards his backpack, avoiding her eyes under any cost. 

   All the suddenly dots connected, converging into cohesive totality in Allaia's mind as she figured out Bellamy's intentions. Realization collided with her heart like livid waves of the heavy ocean, violently crashing against the base of her soul, increasing the sense of desolation prevailing beneath her other feelings, burying them at the bottom of the sea. 

"All the rations you took." Allaia breathed. "You're gonna run."

"That's why you agreed to come with us." Clarke scowled. "You were gonna load up and disappear."

"I don't have a choice." Bellamy stated, covertly glancing at Alle with a silent plead visible in his cast. "The Ark will be down here soon."

"So you're just gonna leave Octavia?" Allaia asked quietly. 

   You're just gonna leave me?, she subdued the voice echoing in her head like a constant melody, begging for an utter release to play at loud and letting the whole world know its words. 

"Octavia hates me." Bellamy looked away. "She'll be fine without me."

   You'll be fine too, he suffocated the need to say it aloud with all the strength surging through his veins, imploring to absolve the feelings permeating his heart and unsheathe them. 

"That's not true!" Allaia protested, her outwardly indifferent demeanor cracking. "You don't know—"

"I shot the Chancellor." Bellamy shouted angrily. "They're gonna kill me, Allaia. Best-case scenario, they lock me up with a Grounder for the rest of my life and there's no way in hell I'm giving Jaha that satisfaction." He growled.

Bellamy threw his gun at the shelf beside them. "Keep practicing. I need some air." 

"Bell—" Allaia began with a tinge of desperation, but he stormed out of the room. 

Allaia clenched her jaw and hazily glanced at Clarke, who gave her a small nod.

"Go." She whispered. 

☆꧁*꧂☆

   BEFORE ALLAIA MANAGED to exit the depot, her surroundings began to swirl. Out of nowhere, the person she hated the most in this universe emerged from the innermost recesses of her memories. Her hallucinogen-fuelled mind created an illusion reflecting her biggest fear, encarnalizing her worst nightmare. It absorbed her darkest feelings, scavenging on her horrors like a parasite. Alle wasn't aware he was a figment of her hyper imagination, heightened by a natural drug's impact, so she gasped in terror as her hands began to tremble terribly. 

   Nixon Harris was smirking at her wickedly. It was the only indication of his humanity, since there was no sign of emotion visible in his empty cast. This vacuity in his eyes was like a black void, devouring everything within its reach and morphing it into nothingness. He wasn't blinking; his hollow stare was sealed on Allaia, as if some dire force had possessed him. 

"Nixon?" Allaia breathed in a shaky voice. 

"In the flesh, babe." He responded evilly and began to approach her.

"No, no!" Allaia screamed with pure panic lacing around her incoherent resistance. "Stay away, stay the fuck away from me, you psycho!" She demanded carpingly.

"What's the point?" Nixon snorted, ignoring her desperate plead and slowly drawing near her. "We're destined to be together, don't you remember? We're in love, Allaia. Quit living in denial, sweetie." 

"No— no. Wh— What... How—" She stuttered wailfully, staring at him with wide eyes. Her breathing instantly became shallow and heavy, lack of air seemed to gradually suffocate her. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on the Ark. No, no... This isn't happening." She pulled on her hair vaguely, at the verge of a panic attack.

"We're in love, Allaia." Nixon whispered tenderly. "Maybe I just need to prove it to you. By making the actual  love. I tried it last time, remember?" He growled.

   The scene altered. Allaia found herself standing in the familiar prison cell dividing her from the world outside ever since she was born. It was her safe haven and hell at the same time. 

"Remember now?" He smirked darkly. "So many beautiful things happened in this room. Your first kiss, your almost first time... Oh, I wish we'd managed to finish that one." 

"You're not real. You're not real. You're not real." Allaia repeated tearfully, closing her eyes. "This isn't real." She exhaled in realization. 

"Whatever." Nixon smirked. "Crazy bitch."

   Before Allaia could react, something heavy slammed into the back of her head and the darkness consumed her. 

☆꧁*꧂☆

   GROANING QUIETLY, ALLAIA awoke, regaining her consciousness. Her surroundings were hazy, so she blinked a few times rapidly, trying to sharpen her blurry vision. Dull ache was ramming into her skull, causing her to wince slightly. Allaia was confused; the distorted eyesight and intensive pain only aggravated her dazzle. 

   Bellamy, she realized in a frantic anxiety. Taking several deep breaths, Allaia struggled to get up since her whole body felt numb, but after a few faint attempts, she succeeded and began to wander around the forest, hoping to trace Bellamy. Instead, Alle came across Clarke who was holding a gun in self-defense. 

"Clarkey." Allaia croaked in relief. "You're real, right? Please tell me you're real." She begged. 

"Of course." Clarke nodded, throwing her arms around Alle in silent consolation. "We were hallucinating. Whatever you saw, it's over now." She assured. 

"Okay, good." Allaia shivered with a sigh. "We have to find Bellamy. He could be hallucinating too."

   With leaves rustling quiescently beneath their feet, Clarke and Allaia reached a narrow clearing. Alle paled instantly at the sight spreading in front of her — Bellamy was lying on the ground, poising his hand in the air, as if he had been holding an invisible gun. He seemed to be stuck in a hypnotic daze; captive in a vivid creation that his mind conceived to haunt his regrets and fears. Dax, one of the delinquents, was hovering above Bellamy, aiming his pistol at him. 

   Clarke stepped forward, raising her gun towards Dax. Allaia stood behind Clarke, knowing she was absolutely defenseless on her own without any weapon.

"Put it down, Dax." Clarke demanded angrily.

   Abruptly, he spun around, a trace of confusion across his features. Dax glared at both girls with irritation. 

 "Should've stayed down there, Clarke. You too, Allaia." Dax hissed. "I tried not to kill you, but here you are, and Shumway said no witnesses." 

"What is he talking about?" Allaia inquired nervously.

"Shumway set it up." Bellamy explained. "He gave me the gun to shoot the Chancellor."

   Despite his words, he was silently pleading her to retreat with his tenacious gaze. Bellamy was staring at Allaia exigently, with a shade of urgency glimmering in his desperate glimpse. She refused to acknowledge his prayer, stubbornly staying glued to her spot. 

   Allaia tensed. Uneven gasps of breath escaped her mouth. An unsettling feeling arose in her stomach; her intuition evoked a sense of calamity to occur to her, causing Allaia to wither in terror. 

"Walk away now and I won't kill you." Dax stated, pointing his gun at them threateningly.

"Put it down." Clarke growled. 

"Your choice." Dax shrugged. 

   Clarke pulled the trigger, but instead nothing happened. Realizing they were completely unprotected, exposed to the gunfire, Allaia tackled the blonde to the ground, out of the greatest danger's line. Dax fired a few shots, rocketing perilously near where they were hiding.

"No!" Bellamy screamed. 

   Every gunshot fueled the rage igniting Bellamy's soul. For a split second, he abstruded the visions haunting his thoughts, obliterating hallucinations stirring with his sanity. Bellamy pushed his numb body upwards, willing to sacrifice himself for Allaia. The possibility of her getting hurt shattered his rationality, engulfing him in a sense of the highest fear. Bellamy knew that he would die before he would let anything bad happen to his angel. 

   He tackled Dax onto the ground, throwing a few furious punches, but he struck Bellamy straight in the jaw, sending him backwards. Recklessly, driven by adrenaline and fear, Allaia lunged at Dax, but he immediately shoved her away with a harsh kick, causing her to collapse onto the floor with a loud groan. He straddled her, putting his hand around her throat in a tight grip, cutting her access to the air. Allaia's eyes widened in pure horror as she struggled to breathe, desperate to catch the slightest intake of oxygen. 

"Get the fuck off of her!" Bellamy roared, infuriated. 

   Rapidly, Bellamy tried to knock Dax down, but he quickly reached for his gun and and slammed it against Bellamy's face, causing him to fall onto the ground alongside Clarke, who got punched in the stomach. Dax continued strangling Allaia whose face was contorted in absolute panic. Black dots eclipsed her vision, at the verge of fading into unconsciousness.

   Out of nowhere, Dax froze. Bellamy lodged a discarded metal bullet into Dax's throat. Dax slowly began to choke on his own blood, gradually bleeding out to death. His hands reached to his neck in agony, in the pathetic attempt to decrease the unstoppable hemorrhage. Bellamy was watching in terror while Dax's eyes were losing its vital glow for evermore as his body became deadly numb, falling onto the side unwittingly. 

   Allaia was gasping for air with wide eyes, rubbing her throat in relief. Her gaze collided with Bellamy's devastated expression, her concern immediately intensifying. Bellamy gently gripped her wrist and pulled her towards him and Clarke, who was bracing against the tree and clutching her abdomen out of pain. Allaia found herself in the middle, so she leaned onto Bellamy's shoulder, hugging him in a wordless support. 

In reality, her reassuring embrace meant the whole world to Bellamy. 

"You're okay." She breathed in solace.

"No, I'm not." Bellamy replied shakily, glancing at her with fright and guilt visible in his strain cast. "My mother... If she knew what I'd done... Who I am... She raised me to be better, to be good—" His voice crumbled undeniably, revealing his authentic emotions.

Allaia stared at him with heartache. "Bellamy—"

"And all I do is hurt people." Bellamy sniffled. "I'm a monster."

"Hey..." Allaia intertwined their fingers, giving his hand a delicate squeeze. "You saved our lives today, Bell."

"And you may be a total ass half of the time..." Clarke began. "But we need you. We all need you. None of us would've survived this place if it wasn't for you." She whispered, but he looked away.

"You want forgiveness?" Allaia asked quietly. "I'll give it to you. You're forgiven, okay?" She assured tenderly, causing him to alert his eyes at her. "But you can't run, Bellamy. You have to come back with us. With me." She pleaded firmly, rubbing soothing circles on the palm of his hand. He gazed at her in reverie, feeling his heart flutter in a strange rhythm in vague reaction at her affectionate words. 

"You have to face it." Clarke nodded. 

"Like you faced your mom?" Bellamy scoffed. 

Clarke chuckled dryly, shaking her head slightly. "You're right. I don't wanna face my mom. I don't wanna face any of it." She admitted. "All I think about every day is how we're gonna keep everyone alive, but we don't have a choice." 

"Jaha will kill me when he comes down." Bellamy sniffled once again.

"We'll figure something out." Allaia promised. 

"Well, can we figure it out later?" Bellamy laughed humorlessly, leaning his back against the tree and wrapping his arm around Allaia's shoulder, pulling her even closer to himself. 

"Whenever you're ready." She smiled. 

A few moments later, Clarke asked almost noiselessly. "It was Nixon, wasn't it? When you were hallucinating, you saw him, right?"

"How do you—" Allaia's features contorted into confusion. "Abby." She realized with a sigh.

"Please, don't be mad at her." Clarke pleaded. "I've seen how shaken up she was that day and I begged her to tell me what's going on until she finally gave in.