Chapter Text
Walking through the long corridors of the Ring, Echo couldn’t help but wrap her arms around herself. Even as the weeks passed, she couldn’t adjust to the frigid temperatures of the ring—and she was used to the cold. It was too much too hope that their nightly rations would warm her up but, nonetheless, she made it a point to pick up her pace to get to the dining hall.
“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” Echo heard Bellamy say. “Not to us. Not anymore.”
“Of course you do,” Murphy retorted with a scoff.
There was no doubt in Echo’s mind that the conversation was about her. It was bound to happen because, try as she might, there was damage she’d done that could never be forgiven, no matter what she did. It was a mistake to cling onto Harper’s kind words from the first day on the ring—they were gentle words she uttered to put her mind at rest, but they could’ve applied to anybody else—anybody except her.
Sucking in a deep breath, trying to control the hurt, Echo made her way forward. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she entered the room but, with nothing else to do and nowhere to run, thought she’d take it as it came.
“We saw you take her sword from her,” Emori said. Accusatory as her words may have been, the softness in her voice betrayed deeper feelings than ones of hate.
Bellamy huffed with a growing frustration and raked his fingers through his hair, “Because she tried to kill herself before we took off the ground!” he growled, his outburst louder than he’d intended.
His words winded her, just as they did everybody else. She stopped short of entering the room, wide-eyed as Bellamy’s words sunk into the minds of his friends. Raven didn’t appear shocked in the slightest, confirming Echo’s suspicion that she’d known all along—she was easily the brightest of them all, and Echo was still holding the blade to her stomach when she’d entered the room.
Murphy and Emori went silent, shifting with some discomfort as they came to terms with the fact that they’d misinterpreted all they’d seen.
Monty, with a broken gaze and glistening eyes, looked to Harper. It was easy to see why—a range of emotions crossed her features. On the one hand, she appeared devastated by the words, sharing Monty’s glassy-eyed expression, only for her nostrils to flare as she shot a glare in Bellamy’s direction.
With the emotions in the room running too high for Echo, what resolve she thought she had to cope with it moments earlier disappeared. She took a step back, only for her shoulder to slam into the wall. Everybody’s attention shot her way and Echo willed herself to shrink and disappear beneath their gazes. Unable to say anything, she turned on her heel and left.
She started on the path back to her bedroom and quickened at the sound of footsteps behind her. “Echo,” Harper called after her. The crushing sensation her heart bore in her chest spurred her to walk faster, ignoring the desperation in Harper’s voice. “Echo, please, stop,” she said.
Recalling the girl’s kindness, Echo did as she asked, coming to an abrupt stop outside of her room. She clenched her hands into fists at her side, pursing her lips together as she braced herself for whatever it was that Harper was about to say. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her, unwilling to lay her eyes on her disappointment.
She stopped only a few short feet in front of her, her shoulders dropping. Even as she refused to look at her, she could feel her gaze filled with its usual kindness, a sympathy that Echo so rarely thought she deserved. “Bellamy shouldn’t have said that,” she said.
Echo shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, feigning an indifference she knew she didn’t have, “We said no more secrets,” she said. “So, no more secrets.”
Harper’s shoulders dropped further, her head cocked to one side, “Some secrets aren’t for others to tell,” she whispered.
“I don’t care,” Echo said, “really.” She was...frightened, a little uneasy, ashamed too... But, for some reason, nothing made her feel worse than the look in Harper’s eyes.
“I’d care,” Harper whispered.
Echo’s brows twitched, furrowing together in confusion.
Harper smiled softly, though the sadness in her eyes magnified beneath the glassiness of her tears, “I…thought we had Mount Weather in common,” she whispered, “but you and I are more alike than that.”
She blinked, the unmistakable sensation of tears returning. She wanted to be wrong, but the look on Harper’s face as she swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand left little room for doubt. Not only had Harper tried to end her life, the event was still fresh in her mind, very much a part of her present. The despair that consumed her, causing her shoulders to shake, had Echo wanting to inch closer and show her the same comfort and kindness she’d shown her. But Echo didn’t know how. She stood there, stunned, troubled, unsure of how to approach her, unsure of how to touch her.
“Harper!” Light on his feet, Monty quickly joined them. Contrary to Echo, Monty didn’t hesitate. At the sight of Harper’s slumped shoulders and deep frown, watching as she struck the path of tears from her cheeks, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
Monty whispered in her ear, his words indiscernible, leading to a gentle nod from Harper before she pulled away. She brushed her sleeves against her cheeks, mustering the best smile she could manage before looking in Echo’s direction, “I’m heading to bed,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”
A smile, put on and uncertain, twitched at the corners of Echo’s lips for a second. “Goodnight,” she whispered.
Harper turned on her heel and left, scrubbing at her eyes as she went. Monty, however, lingered, waiting until Harper was completely out of earshot before turning his attention back to her. He licked his lips, shifting his weight uneasily. “Harper almost… Just before Praimfaya hit. We…lost a close friend to…”
His words trailed off but Echo filled the gaps, nodding so he needn’t continue.
Despite that, Monty did, trying his utmost to stomach the memory. “He took his own life,” he said. “Harper almost…and…” His gaze dropped, then he turned it elsewhere, wiping the tension from around his mouth, “Do we have to worry about losing you too?”
His eyes met hers and it winded her in an instant. Unable to say a word, all she did was purse her lips together and shake her head.
Monty nodded slowly, “Good,” he said. “We’ve lost enough friends as it is.” Just like Harper, he put on a smile, wished her a goodnight and left.
There was that word again—friend. She wasn’t a friend. She didn’t know why they kept saying that. Her mind went back to everything she’d heard from the others—Bellamy might not have trusted her but he didn’t think her a danger, at least, he didn’t tell the others so. Murphy and Emori…they didn’t trust her in the slightest. Monty and Harper… They cared enough to follow her. They cared enough to ask… Maybe they did care. Maybe she wasn’t a friend but…maybe they saw the potential in her to be one.