Chapter Text
Let’s give them something else to remember you by.”
“Like what?”
“How about being the first person on the ground in a hundred years?”
Bellamy could remember the last time he stood at a drop ship door, his hand on the lever, on the brink of something new. Back then, a blonde haired girl with eyes like the sky and an arrogant attitude had demanded he wait, warning him that the air could be toxic. As if that mattered anymore; they were on the ground, and there was no going back.
That had been seven years ago, before chaos had erupted. Another offhand comment, made to someone long gone: “What’s wrong with a little chaos?” Truly, he’d been asking for it, totally unprepared for just how in over his head he was about to be. If it hadn’t been for her, they would have died in less than three months. If it hadn’t been for him, maybe she would have lived past eight.
“Bellamy?”
Bellamy’s hand twitched on the lever, and he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of their crew. They waited, looking at him expectantly. It was all wrong. He’d had six years to grow used to leading without her, a role he’d slipped into surprisingly easily. He’d thought it would be hard, but it had echoed back to those first days on the ground, back when he’d thought he could take control of the hundred without much ado. He’d been better this time, less selfish, more thoughtful. But it seemed wrong to return to earth without her, to step back into that vibrant bubble where they’d both been more than what they’d been on the ark.
He met Echo’s eyes briefly, then Emori’s. “Welcome home.”
Before he let another memory stop him, Bellamy pulled down on the lever. Just like last time, the door hissed open. Unlike last time, they were not met by sunlight and birdsong, and no one rushed past Bellamy to set foot on the ground. Instead, leaves in various shades of brown covered the ground as weak light shone through naked trees and grey, wispy clouds. Through the branches, Bellamy could see the dark and ashy world Primfiya had left behind, save for the small patch of life they had landed in. It looked the way Bellamy had always pictured hell might.
The others cautiously crept forward, curiosity pushing them forward, wariness holding them back. One by one, they dropped to the ground, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air, nearly high on it after years of recycled oxygen.
“Stay close to the ship,” Bellamy instructed. “Our first priorities are food and water. Go in pairs, and meet back here when it’s dark? Alright?”
The group nodded and split off into their natural groups, Monty and Harper, Murphy and Emori. Echo waited for him, but Bellamy shook his head. Instead he turned to Raven.
“What can you tell me?”
Raven’s brow hardened. “For starters? That she’s dead.”
Bellamy waved the comment away. “How far are we from where the tower would have been? How large is the patch we’ve landed in? How far are we from Becca’s bunker?”
Raven huffed, but rattled off the information.
“But you’re not going to find her,” Raven insisted, the harsh words softened by the sympathy in her voice. “After six years exposed to the elements there’d be nothing to find.”
Bellamy ignored her and turned to go, but he couldn’t keep her words from burrowing into his mind and painting hopeless pictures. They were the same images he’d seen in his dreams nearly every night, a wasted finger bone, her father’s watch, the barest scraps of her, frustratingly vague, neither denying nor confirming that there was something to look for.
Bellamy heard the shuffle of dead leaves behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Echo following him just a step behind.
“You said pairs,” she reminded him before he could protest. “So don’t even bother.”
Before Primfiya, Echo had been the last person Bellamy would have put his faith in. All that had changed on the ark. She’d been right: survival was a team sport. So instead of sending her away, Bellamy forged ahead, letting comfortable, if tense silence fill the space fill the space between them.
Minutes, hours passed without a sign of another person. Bellamy could feel himself begin to tire, his feet aching and his eyes weary from squinting. The longer they walked, the more and more memories began to come back to him, flitting through his mind like ghosts. The fighting. The bloodshed. The struggle to survival. The delicate balance between war and peace. Still, haunted as he was, he couldn’t let himself give up. Not now that they were here, now that he could act instead of just spending hours staring at the earth, watching it burn, imagining how he could have done things differently, what he would do if he could just get his feet back on the ground.
“Bellamy.”
Both Bellamy and Echo spun at his name, they hands automatically going to the hand-fashioned knives in their belts. Both paused in surprise when they saw they were face to face with a child.
“You’re Bellamy,” the girl said again. She was staring at them with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, looking as shocked as he felt.
“How are you alive?” Echo asked sharply, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“And how do you know who I am?” Bellamy said.
“Clarke told me.” The little girl’s words were a knife to Bellamy’s heart, a white-hot blade of hope, piercing him right in the chest. It seared through him, obliterating everything else. The small part of him that wasn’t reeling was wondering how he hadn’t dropped dead from the sensation.
“Clarke told you,” Bellamy repeated. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “Can you - can you tell me where she is? Can you show me?”
“Bellamy.” Echo this time, a warning in her tone. He ignored her.
The little girl frowned, but slowly nodded before turning and cutting a trail through the woods.
“Bellamy, this is stupid,” Echo hissed, glancing warily around them.
“It’s the only lead I have,” Bellamy answered as he set off after the little girl. “I’m taking it. Go back to the ship if you don’t want to come.”
Echo scowled but didn’t protest again as she followed Bellamy through the trees.
“She told me lots about you,” the little girl said over her shoulder as they hiked. “Bellamy Blake. She said you came from the sky, and that you would again. She said you were the only reason she’d survived the ground. She thinks of you every day.”
Bellamy couldn’t have responded even if he wanted to. His thoughts were still reeling, she’s alive, she’s alive, and now, beyond that, she thought about me, too.
Suddenly, they stepped out of the trees and into a clearing. Bellamy recognized Becca’s workshop right away, though it looked smaller than he remembered. The little girl lead them straight up to the front door and inside without so much as a lock to open. But when they crossed the threshold, Bellamy stopped dead, Echo nearly walking into his back.
All over the walls were drawing of him. His mouth, his eyes, his mess of hair, a constellation of freckles in some spaces. Some were full body, some just of his face, some in profile. Other drawing were interspersed with them, like a two headed deer and a gorilla. He thought he recognized some other faces as well, Abby, Raven, and Wells, but it was his that dominated the walls.
“That’s how she recognized you,” Echo murmured, shattering the spell. “The kid.”
Bellamy could only nod as he started walking again. He couldn’t look away, seeing new renderings everywhere his eyes rested. He followed the little girl down the stairs into a section of Becca’s lab they hadn’t bothered exploring in depth when they’d been there. There’d been no point. Raven had told them what had needed doing, and barring that, there hadn’t been time to wander the halls.
The little girl stopped a key pad and punched in the combination. A panel in the wall slid back, exposing a hallway similar to the one’s in Becca’s house. The small group filed in. Bellamy was surprised to see the hall was in relatively good condition. Musty, maybe, but intact and as luxe as everything else belonging to Becca had been.
The little girl lead them through what Bellamy realized must have been a private bunker. He didn’t know why they hadn’t thought of it before. The woman had had a spare rocket just lying around in case she needed to go back to space; why wouldn’t she also have prepared a plan B for the nuclear apocalypse?
Finally, the little girl paused outside a door. She turned back to them, her hand on the knob, and Bellamy found himself filled with the same anticipation he’d felt earlier that day when they’d finally landed on earth again. In this moment, anything was possible.
“She’s not…well,” the little girl said, her eyes flitting up to meet Bellamy’s before darting away again. Bellamy’s heart plummeted as dread enveloped the hope that had burned in his chest all the way to the bunker.
“What do you mean?” Bellamy asked.
“She sleeps,” the girl explained with a vague gesture. “She has a fever. She caught sick about three weeks ago, but hasn’t opened her eyes in four days. I’m sorry, Bellamy. She waited for you as long as she could.”
“Please.” Bellamy’s voice came out at a rasp. “Please, let me see her.”
The girl said nothing, but simply twisted the knob and let the door swing open.
Bellamy crossed the threshold, pausing only long enough to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. And once they did, he saw her, lying under a thin blanket on the bed, her chest rising ever so slightly, but rising none the less. She looked almost exactly as he remembered; the same pale skin, long fingers, full lips. Only her hair was changed, shorter now.
In seconds he was across the room, beside the bed. He hesitated only a moment before taking her hand in his, marvelling that after so many years she had survived and was here, that he had found her, that they were together again - unsurprisingly, with one of them hours away from death. Slowly, he lifted his other hand and brushed her hair back from her forehead, the blonde strands glinting in the low light. Another memory came back, the last time he’d touched her, just like this, right before they’d split up before leaving for the ark. A familiar resolve settled in Bellamy’s chest, replacing hope with purpose.
Gently, he placed her hand back on the bed and turned towards Echo.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “We’ve got to get back to Raven and the others.”
He strode from the room, the other trailing behind him.
“What are you going to do Bellamy?” Echo asked, striding up beside him. He met her grim stare with one of his own.
“What I do best, “he said. “Keep Clarke alive.”