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Clarke was sorting through the herbs the foraging team had brought back late last night, thinking about Madi.
Her nightmares kept coming, and she wouldn’t tell Clarke what they were about. Every time Clarke asked if she wanted to talk about them, Madi looked down at her hands and mumbled no, that she was fine. Clarke was at a loss for what to do. She’d keep telling Madi all the stories she needed, but it never guaranteed that she would sleep through the night.
Today Madi was off with Monty and Harper in the rover, showing them the nearest sources of fresh water. Eligius had been eerily quiet lately. In case Diyoza decided to cut off Wonkru's water supply, teams had been out charting maps of snowmelt from the mountains, with Clarke and Madi's help.
The whole of Wonkru had made their way back to Eden nearly two weeks ago now, and were taking refuge in the ruins of a town nearly four miles from the Eligius camp. The rebuilding of the half-standing structures was an ongoing task - the sounds of falling timber and hammers hitting nails constantly echoed against the nearby cliffs. Not that there was ever any hope of doing so, but they were not living inconspicuously out here. Not this close, and not this loudly. Clarke thought about it often. It unsettled her.
The role of head medic within the camp had fallen naturally and immediately to Clarke, as she’d assumed it would after their disaster of a trek through the desert. She was happy to be fill the role - like now, placing leaves and roots in careful piles, she often got to work alone.
On days when she wasn't alone, when she led scouting groups or helped identify local plant life, she found herself tired and irritable when she and Madi drove finally the rover a little ways out of Wonkru camp to sleep. Madi didn’t understand why Clarke chose to keep sleeping apart from her friends, and Clarke clung to the excuse of her social wariness, even though Madi felt the opposite.
For her, meeting Spacekru had been her childhood heroes come to life. It had been a chance to make the friends she’d never had, the ones Clarke had lost. She had taken to Monty and Harper immediately; Murphy was the annoying one who she only put up with begrudgingly. With Emori and Raven around, she held her head a little higher, and tended to speak only when spoken to. Clarke knew that their tech savvy was foreign enough to make Madi feel intimidated.
Clarke didn’t share the true reason for she and Madi’s nightly isolation. She’d tripped her way through her emotions clumsily enough with Bellamy that she knew she couldn’t possibly explain it right to Madi, especially now that Madi had taken such a shining to both Bellamy and Echo - twice a week, Clarke watched in her peripheral vision from the med tent as Bellamy set up a makeshift boxing ring in the center of camp and sparred lightly with Madi, teaching her how to follow through on her punches and how to anticipate his movements. They stood side by side during water breaks, Madi gesturing wildly with whatever story she was telling. Bellamy would ruffle her hair or check her with his hip, laughing when she got to the punchline. Near the end of each of their sessions, Echo would return from her scouting trips, and she’d show Madi a few moves with a small sword the length of Clarke’s forearm. Bellamy would sit on the sidelines with his elbows on his knees, cheering Madi on.
Those were the nights when Madi slept soundly. Clarke couldn’t take them from her.
But Clarke kept her distance from Bellamy as best as she could. He would bring the occasional rash or snake bite victim into the med tent when the foraging and hunting teams returned around dusk on weekends and Wednesdays; he left after briefing her on the injuries. Occasionally he walked Madi back to the rover in the evenings, if she’d insisted on hearing another space story before Clarke drove them away for the night; he kept conversation focused mostly on Madi, as did Clarke. When he did turn to her to say goodnight, there was a singular focus in his eyes that Clarke recognized as evaluation. His wondering whether things had changed yet. They hadn’t. It hurt her as much as it hurt him.
Clarke placed the last of the black berries for tomorrow’s poultices into a pile when the sound of raised voices snapped her from her thoughts. She looked up from her table, which was tucked into a corner of the camp, out into the central square. Octavia’s red cloak was swishing out of sight into the Bloodreina’s council building, and Bellamy was standing agitated in the middle of the lawn. After a moment’s apparent hesitation, he jogged after her and pushed the front door aside, slamming it behind him.
There was movement across the square. Five of Octavia’s guards appeared from the fringes of camp, following Bellamy, disappearing into the building behind him. Clarke’s heart sped up. She put down the pestle and mortar she’d just taken up and moved around the table. Her pace quickened as she crossed the open space in the middle of the square, wet grass splashing her jeans, and she jogged up to the council door, mind racing with excuses as she knocked loudly four times.
There was no noise for a moment.
The door flew halfway open. Miller stood before her, eyes wide. Behind him, four of Octavia’s guards were visible, guns raised and pointed toward the center of the room. Clarke stared. She raised her voice enough to be heard from the throne where she knew it sat along the opposite wall, beyond the door.
“I’m running out of clean wraps in the med tent.” Miller didn’t move. “I need to requisition three more rolls from Bloodreina. "
Still nothing.
"If I don't get them soon, Halliwell’s injuries from that bobcat won’t heal as fast as you need them to. I know he’s your most skilled spearman.” She locked her eyes onto Miller’s. There might have been a flicker of understanding there, though he remained in place, one hand ready to slam the door in her face if Octavia gave the go-ahead.
Instead, Clarke heard her call, “Let her in, Miller.”
That was the first hint toward the confirmation of a suspicion she’d been harboring for a month.
Miller stepped aside, letting the door swing wide.
There were eight guards in a loose circle around the perimeter of the room, where the council’s chairs were pushed up against the walls. Octavia stood at the foot of the dais up in front. In the center of the room, Bellamy stood facing her. Clarke couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were taut, his arms tense at his sides. All eight of the guards' guns were trained on him.
A few of the guards glanced in Clarke’s direction as she strode through the circle to stand beside him, but none of the weapons lowered.
“Bloodreina,” she said as she came to a stop, inclining her head. She didn’t turn toward Bellamy and he didn’t turn toward her. “I’ve run out of -”
“I heard you, Clarke.” Octavia’s eyes were hard - as they always were now. Clarke had trouble reconciling the woman in front of her Bellamy's sister, with the girl who'd once chased glowing butterflies and followed trails of flowers.
“You can get your wraps from Jackson in the supply tent. Rogers will accompany you and provide my approval.”
Clarke nodded, but as Octavia opened her mouth to the dark blond woman on her left, Clarke cut her off.
“I’m also running short on a certain type of herb. Rock rose. I included it on my most recent itinerary for your foraging team, but I have less than a gram left.”
Octavia’s eyes glinted. Clarke was toeing a fine line, but she had to buy time - if not diffuse the tension in the room, then to redirect it - and, frankly, Octavia didn't scare her.
“Are you insulting my people’s ability to read a list?”
“No, just requesting that the date of the most recent itinerary be double checked, and if necessary, the foragers notified. Maybe my requests have been mixed up on accident. I have twice the amount of goldenseal I needed for a two-month stock.”
The room was silent. Octavia glanced at the ground beneath Clarke’s feet, as if willing it to open up and rid her of this situation. Clarke waited.
Before addressing her again, Octavia turned and sat in the throne, arranging her cloak around her. “We'll check the itinerary sheets you gave us. Rogers,” she said, and the woman to her left dropped her gun to her side and stepped forward. “Explain the situation to Jackson. He’ll be able to check the lists, or he’ll know someone who can.” Rogers nodded and moved for the door, past Bellamy and Clarke. Clarke tracked her movements. She saw Bellamy do the same.
Octavia said her next words clearly and quietly. Clarke’s heart rate jumped.
“You can go.”
Her eyes were on Clarke when she said it - Clarke hesitated for the longest moment she felt she could afford before she inclined her head again and went to turn for the door. Her mind was racing - what else could she say, what else could she do -
“Both of you.”
She paused, her stomach swooping.
She didn’t look back, but Bellamy moved and they walked to the door together, looking down the barrels of seven guns as they went.
Bellamy exited in a flurry in front of her, leaving her to close the door. She closed her eyes for a moment, fresh air hitting her face. When she opened them again a moment later, Bellamy was halfway across camp. He kept walking, stalking clear across the square until he reached the makeshift bench outside his personal quarters. Clarke followed him - she had to say something.
He stopped before he entered his tent, turning to look back at the council building. Clarke looked back as well. He was breathing deeply, pointedly, beside her.
“You need to be careful, Bellamy.”
His eyes didn’t leave the door they’d just walked through, but he nodded. He was deep in thought, jaw set. She wanted to shake him, to snap him out of it, to force him to listen to her warnings, but she knew that he was aware of his standing with Octavia. He just couldn’t stop trying to get through to her. He wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t blame him.
“Madi would be devastated if she lost her sparring partner,” she tried.
His eyes snapped onto hers. The tic in his jaw relaxed slightly. Clarke raised her eyebrows, and he let out a tense breath.
“I know. I know.” He lingered on her face for a second longer, but was dragged away to look back across the square again. His eyebrows drew together. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“I know,” Clarke agreed. The nervous energy was washing off of him in waves - she looked away, at the people going about their duties around the camp. They all seemed content, if a bit on edge. “Me neither.” The threat of Eligius definitely wasn’t gone, but it was obvious that Octavia’s bloodthirstiness didn’t hinge solely on its presence. She shifted her weight to her left foot, sighing. They looked at each other again.
“Thank you.” His eyes remained hard as he said it - but the usual question was there. Her answer hadn’t changed. It hurt.
She nodded, said, “You’re welcome,” and then glanced up at the sky. Anywhere but his eyes.
“It’s getting late. I need to finish storing yesterday’s stock before it rains,” she said, pulling her coat close around her in the growing chill and stepping away. Bellamy nodded again, still searching her face. She said a brief good night before walking back to the prep table.