Chapter Text
Diyoza arched an eyebrow. "I always hated that mug."
She waved her hand and several guns were lowered. "How about we discuss this inside?" she nodded her head towards the church.
"When he drops that remote," rumbled Bellamy, his glare fixed on McCreary's thumb hovering over the button. Diyoza sighed, snapping her fingers.
McCreary dropped the remote, matching Bellamy's glower.
"Lieutenant Shaw," added Diyoza, "You're the nice guy. Help the prisoner up and get her inside." Her eyes flicked back. "And you, follow us."
Bellamy watched apprehensively as a younger, slimmer man dropped his weapon to approach Clarke. Some of the anxiety in his chest released when he saw the lieutenant’s gentle hands and apologetic demeanor. His eyes found Clarke’s as she rose, her lips sputtering.
“B-Bel-“ she collapsed when she tried to stand, and whatever was still lying dormant in Bellamy’s heart snapped to attention. He broke composure and took one step forward before freezing. This was a hostage negotiation, not the time for erratic movements.
Fortunately, Diyoza seemed not to care, her eyes trained on Shaw hoisting Clarke into his arms and walking towards the church. Bellamy’s frame shuddered as the visual hit him in the gut with a visceral memory of watching 17-year old Clarke fainting into another boy’s arms, looking just as frail.
His hands ached with the need to touch her, to pull her close and bury his face in her hair and find the scent underneath the fumes of earth and death, the scent that was purely Clarke and calmed his racing heart.
He started walking behind Shaw. Diyoza casted one last look at McCreary.
“I think we’re done with the collar for today. Find another outlet for your sadism.”
McCreary looked visibly annoyed by her request, and Bellamy’s hands automatically clenched into fists. Six years ago, he would have killed this man with one shot to the head, one in the chest if he wanted this monster to suffer. But space tempered his rage into a simmer of pensive readiness.
The church was dimly lit with lanterns when he and Diyoza sat down, Clarke tied to a chair next to her. Underneath her short, golden fringe, Bellamy saw ugly welts and burnt skin left on her neck by the collar.
Fuck, there’s aloe salve in my pack, I-
But Diyoza’s steely glare kept him still in his seat; she had taken back control of the situation.
“Before we start anything else, I have one more question.” She turned to Clarke. “You said you got Becca’s serum before the second wave, but your little girl was born with it?”
Clarke nodded. Bellamy bit his tongue on his own questions when Diyoza addressed him. “So are you from the ground or from space?”
Bellamy cocked an eyebrow. “Both. Grew up on the Ark, came down to Earth to see if it was habitable,” he paused, “Then the second wave came. We took one of Becca’s old shuttles.” He gritted his teeth, unable to look at Clarke. “But there were launch complications. Not everyone got onboard.”
Diyoza nodded. “I see. And you left no one else behind?”
Bellamy took a breath. “Yes, I closed the hatch myself.”
He saw a slight shudder from Clarke out of the corner of his eye, but he forced himself to ignore it. Diyoza glanced at Clarke briefly before turning to him.
“Must have hurt, leaving your wife and daughter like that,” she said coldly.
Bellamy’s heart-rate ratcheted up a notch, but before either he or Clarke could say a word, Diyoza handed him a radio.
“I should have heard back from men I sent out, and I have not. That means they’ve encountered something,” her steely glare returned, “my patience is wearing thin. Make good on your threat.”
Swallowing hard, Bellamy clicked the call button. “Raven, are you there?”
A tense moment passed, then she responded, “I’m here. I’m at the control panel for the sleepers on Elegius IV.”
He allowed himself one moment of relief, seeing the clench in Diyoza’s jaw.
“Who did they take? Was it your sister?” Raven asked. Bellamy turned back to Clarke.
“No,” he said quickly, unable to hide the fondness in his eyes and voice. “Believe it or not, they have our princess.”