Day 025: What Is This?
Summary: Grey reflects on what life has become, and what it means.
Date: 18 June 2016
Related: None Directly
Grey 


25 Days After Landing — Grey's Tent, The Camp


Firelight dances on the outside of the parachute-cloth tent, leaping shadows and dancing brilliance that would have unsettled Lucian Grey three weeks ago. Now, along with the low sound of quiet conversation, they're just a part of life, the ever-present vibrancy of the Delinquent Camp. He should be asleep now, his weariness dragging him down, but his brain is unable to shut off. It's not the army of warriors baying for his blood outside the walls that occupies his mind though, not the criminals and survivors inside those walls. No, it's the woman. The smooth skin pressed against his own beneath the half-tossed-aside blanket. The scent of her, sweat and ash and that faint hint of herbal soap, filling his nose. The tickle of her hair against his cheeks and chest.

What is this?

He's never known anything like this before, that fierce pull inside his chest that always draws him to her, the light that bursts behind his eyes when she smiles, the gooseflesh her laughter raises on his skin. It's unreal. His arms tighten around the Grounder, and she shifts against him, murmuring something sleepily before her breathing steadies in sleep again.

What is it about Earth that makes everything so sharp, so clear sometimes? That makes me promise my life to a bunch of people who did nothing but hate me for my name? That makes me fall so hard for a woman that tried to kill me?

A clearer shout goes up outside the tent, and although he lifts his head a little, the furor dies down almost immediately. A false alarm, or a team of hunters coming back safely enough. But not everyone was so lucky. Ducking his head into the mass of golden-blonde hair before him, he breathes in.

Would it have been like this with Hanne too? With Q? I thought of them both like this, more or less, but… who knows. Life's… man, I don't know. Life's funny. And not always the good kind of funny."

Grey's eyes close, his frown slowly fading from his face has he lets his nerves sing the song of touching skin, not even moving, just enjoying the symphony of two bodies nestled together.

Sometimes though, sometimes it's real good. Some parts of it, at least. I mean, hell, I got a girl who gave up everything she had for me. How do you top that? Not like, just stuff. People. There ain't many people she's ever known who won't think she's a traitor. And all for me. How do you live up to that? How can you? God, I want to live up to that. What is this?

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