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Bellamy knew this was stupid.
Of all the people standing around doing nothing important, Pike had to send Bellamy to go and investigate a potential new food source. Had it been any other situation, and had he been assigned any other job, Bellamy would have eagerly gone to do such an important role. But now he was part of Pike’s regime, and would rather talk about tactics to use against Ice Nation than trek through the forest in search of this supposed source.
The snapping of twigs behind him reminded Bellamy of another reason why he thought this job was stupid.
Pike could have sent anyone along with Bellamy- but instead he sent along John Murphy.
Now, Bellamy didn’t hate Murphy, but he wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. And it was strange that Pike would send him along- he wasn’t even one of the soldiers.
Bellamy could think of an entire list of people he would rather be with than Murphy.
Clarke, Monty, Jasper, Harper, Kane, Bryan, Miller…. Heck, Bellamy would have rather gone with Octavia and risked the fact that she might kill him than go with Murphy.
Murphy had the ability to kill him as well, and Bellamy knew he probably had a personal vendetta against him from when he had Murphy almost hung to death.
“Are we even heading in the right direction?” Murphy said dully from behind.
“Yes,” Bellamy responded through gritted teeth. “Nyko said that we would find it near a river, so if we just follow the tree line, we should come across it.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you Blake, but we’ve been traveling for a while and all I see are…. Trees, trees, and- what’s that?” Murphy squinted into the forest, and Bellamy followed his gaze, thinking he had spotted something important-
“Oh, just more trees.” Murphy said, smirking at Bellamy’s expression.
Bellamy tried to restrain himself from punching Murphy in the face.
“Watch yourself,” Bellamy muttered, moving on.
“Or what? You’ll get Pike to execute me like he did your sister’s grounder boyfriend?”
Bellamy turned slowly. “What?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Everyone’s noticed Octavia avoiding you like the plague.”
“Stay out of my business,” Bellamy growled, trudging forward.
“Man, you must feel terrible knowing that your sister hates your guts. Or terrible for knowing that you essentially caused the death of the first grounder who helped us.”
“Shut up,” Bellamy hissed.
He thought back to when they first met Lincoln. Bellamy hadn’t trusted the grounder at first, even though he had saved Octavia’s life. But soon all of the 100- or whoever was left- began to realize that Lincoln could actually be an asset to them, and act as a guide for Skaikru.
Lincoln had also taught Octavia to speak the grounder language, Trigedasleng , and introduced them all to Nyko, who taught Skaikru about medicinal plants and such. Lincoln had been a link to the grounder world, and had shown them kindness.
And he had made Bellamy’s sister happy.
The longer Bellamy thought about it, the worse he felt. So he shoved the memories down and continued trekking through the forest.
“And you’re still in alliance with Pike,” Murphy added. “Even after all that happened. And didn’t Octavia beat you up for it?.”
“Shut up!” Bellamy roared, turning around. “Don’t say another word about my sister!”
Murphy paused, stunned by the outburst.
“Yes, she hates me as of now, yes it might be partly my fault Lincoln is dead, and yes, I’m in alliance with Pike, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices to survive!”
“You think Lincoln needed to be sacrificed for survival ?” Murphy asked, incredulous.
“It was necessary,” Bellamy said forcefully.
“Well, then who’s next? Nyko? Niylah? How do you know your own sister won’t be executed for associating herself with them? And how do you know those of us from Skaikru with bad histories won’t be executed as well?”
“Pike wouldn’t do that. And Jaha wouldn’t let it happen.”
“Oh, right, the guy who you shot and almost killed so that you could protect your sister will save your skin,” Murphy spat.
“I don’t see you exactly groveling for forgiveness either,” Bellamy returned with equal venom.
They glared at each other for a moment before Bellamy turned and walked away.
Murphy remained a few steps behind Bellamy, wanting to stay as far away as possible.
Once he heard the river up ahead, he started walking a little faster, but kept his distance knowing full well Bellamy could handle things himself. So when Bellamy rounded a bend and moved out of sight, Murphy didn’t think too much about it.
But when there was a loud shout accompanied with by a splash, Murphy wondered what could have happened.
He hurried around the corner and saw Bellamy sprawled on his side, half in the river, seemingly unconscious.
“Crap,” Murphy muttered, and dragged him out of the water.
“Blake,” Murphy said, shaking Bellamy’s shoulder. “Get up.”
No response.
“Come on,” he prompted. “You couldn’t have drowned that fast.”
Still nothing.
“Blake!” Murphy turned Bellamy over and slapped him squarely in the face, and Bellamy lurched upwards, gasping for air.
“What are you doing?” Bellamy demanded, wiping water out of his eyes.
“You were knocked out, what was I supposed to do?”
Bellamy’s eyes suddenly went wide, and he started pulling at his pants leg.
“Woah, woah, woah, what’re you doing?” Murphy asked, confused.
Pulling the fabric up to his knee, Bellamy winced when he saw black-tinged blood running down his calf from four small puncture holes.
“What happened?” Murphy asked, but before he could respond, Bellamy whirled around, staring at the water.
There, in between some rocks, glinted two black eyes.
“What in the…”
Bellamy lunged for the eyes, grabbing at what Murphy thought could be a river rat or something, and hit it in the head with a rock.
A few seconds later, Bellamy held up what was definitely not a river rat.
It was at least 2 feet in length, as wide around as Murphy’s wrist, and seemed to be covered in a light dusting of reddish hair. Black eyes stared unseeingly ahead, and from its mouth protruded four 1-inch fangs- two on top, two on the bottom.
From those fangs dripped a thick black liquid- the same as what was mixing with Bellamy’s blood.
“What is that thing?” Murphy asked, recoiling.
“I don’t know,” Bellamy panted, “But it can’t be good.”
“We should head back,” Murphy said. “Ask Nyko or somebody what it is.”
“No,” Bellamy replied, tucking the creature into the satchel on his back. “We came here to find a food source, so we will.”
“Whatever you say, Chancellor,” Murphy rolled his eyes.
But something in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t listen.
A few hours later and they hadn’t found anything.
Murphy notice Bellamy was starting to move slower and slower, as if it was hard for him to walk, as if he was in pain.
“You good there, Blake?”
“Yeah,” Bellamy grunted in response. “Just a little sore.”
Murphy rolled his eyes and took the lead. “Try to keep up, will you? I don’t want to drag your body through the forest.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes. “As if I’d let you,” he responded.
The duo worked their way along the riverbank, looking for the food source that they had been sent to find, as the sun peaked and started to slowly make it’s descent.
“Maybe we should turn back,” Murphy suggested, seeing Bellamy struggle more and more.
“No,” came the sharp response. “We were trusted with finding the source. The whole camp is relying on us- we can’t give up now.”
Once again, Murphy relented, letting it go. After all, Blake wasn’t his business.
He traveled on, and then something caught his eye. Murphy squinted at it and saw up ahead a tree with a blue fruit on it- just as Nyko had described.
“I don’t believe it,” Murphy muttered. “The grounder wasn’t lying.”
He waited for some snippy remark from Bellamy about how, “Of course Nyko wouldn’t have lied about something like this,” but none came.
Murphy turned around, and discovered that Bellamy was gone.
“Blake?”
No reply.
“Well, fantastic,” Murphy muttered. “I’ve lost him.”
Murphy almost started walking again, but felt guilt pulling at him. He groaned and then started tracing his steps, calling for Bellamy.
Then Murphy found him, sprawled in the middle of the path, unconscious.
“Again, Blake?” Murphy knelt down and slapped him, since it had worked before.
It didn’t work this time.
“Blake,” Murphy said, shaking him.
Bellamy didn’t stir.
“Bellamy,” Murphy said louder.
He put his hand to Bellamy’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He found it, but his heart was racing and seeming to beat irregularly.
“Crap,” Murphy said.
Murphy’s first thought as he dragged Bellamy’s limp body through the woods was ‘Octavia is going to murder me.’
But then he remembered that Octavia didn’t care.
So his second thought was ‘Pike is going to kill me,’ and that seemed more reasonable, so Murphy started moving faster.
Soon the camp came into view, and Murphy sped up, dragging Bellamy behind him.
“Abby! Clarke! Anybody, help!”
Clarke came running, and her eyes went wide when she saw Bellamy.
“Get him inside- quickly!” She ordered, and helped Murphy bring Bellamy to where she and Abby had set up a medical room, placing him on one of the cots.
“What happened?” Clarke asked, quickly checking Bellamy’s vitals. “His heart’s racing.”
“He got bitten by some…. creature,” Murphy replied as Clarke hooked Bellamy up to a heart monitor.
“Find Nyko,” Clarke told Murphy, working to lower Bellamy’s heart rate. “Or Niylah. Tell them to come here.”
“And why would I do that?”
“ Now , Murphy.”
Murphy rushed out, returning a few moments later with Nyko and Niylah following him.
“He was bitten by something,” Clarke told them, taking and IV and pushing it into Bellamy’s arm. “I was hoping you could tell me what, and how to help him.”
Bellamy groaned and stirred. “Where am I?” he asked, struggling to sit up. “What are we doing here? We’re supposed to be out there!”
“Shh,” Clarke soothed, trying to push him back down.
“What’s going on?” Bellamy demanded, and tried to get out of the cot, but froze. “Why can’t I move my legs?”
Clarke looked at Nyko, who approached Bellamy. “What bit you?”
“Some strange, red thing,” Bellamy responded, shaking his head.
“Can you describe it?” Niylah asked.
Bellamy thought for a moment, but then started looking around. “I killed it and put it in my backpack.”
Clarke grabbed it from where it had fallen to the floor, and handed it to him. Bellamy reached in, and grabbed the long, reddish creature.
Niylah and Nyko gasped, backing away quickly.
“Blodwamplei,” Nyko whispered hoarsely.
“What is that? What does that mean?” Murphy asked from where he was leaning against the wall.
Nyko stared at it, wide-eyed. “One of the most venomous creatures on the Earth,” she whispered. “It’s bite paralyzes the victim slowly, turning their blood black and leaving the mind last to paralysis.”
The room filled with silence before Bellamy asked hoarsely, “Is there a cure?”
Niylah raised her eyes from the floor, staring directly at him.
“No.”
Bellamy felt as if he was underwater.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”
Clarke sat on a chair in silence, unable to find any words.
“How fast does the venom spread?” Murphy asked.
“Once the paralysis begins, the venom reaches the brain six hours later,,” Nyko answered.
Bellamy was losing more feeling in his legs.
“I don’t have much longer,” he whispered. “Maybe five hours.”
Niylah came over and put her hand on his shoulder gently. “We’ll give you some peace.” She made her way out of the room, Nyko following her.
After a few moments, Bellamy said quietly, “Octavia. I want to see her.”
“I’ll get her,” Murphy responded, and whisked out of the room, leaving Clarke and Bellamy in silence.
“Clarke,” Bellamy began, seeing his friend’s distraught face. “It’ll be okay.”
She shook her head slowly, trying to fight tears. “I can’t save you.”
“Hey,” he whispered, taking her hand in his gently. “You can’t save everyone.”
“We need you, Bellamy,” she said softly.
Bellamy tried to sit up and respond, but found he couldn’t feel his waist anymore- couldn’t bend enough to sit up.
“I need you.”
Bellamy looked up into her face, using his free hand to move her hair out of her eyes.
“I need you too,” he responded. “But you’ll have to let me go eventually.”
Meanwhile, Murphy was planning to dig his grave.
“Octavia,” Murphy said, entering the room she was in.
“What.” Octavia didn’t turn from where she was facing the wall on her bed.
“You’re needed in the medical bay.”
“Why.” Ever since Lincoln had died, Octavia had spoken in a monotone, as if her voice was detached from her body by Lincoln’s death.
“It’s your brother. He’s asking for you, whether you hate him or not.”
“Don’t care.”
“Octavia. He’s been bitten by some snake and the venom is slowly paralyzing him-”
“I said I don’t care .”
“See, here’s the thing, Octavia ,” Murphy said quietly, approaching her bed. “I think you do care that he was bitten. And I think you do care that he’s being paralyzed. And I think that you’ll definitely care when he dies in five hours’ time and you won’t have said anything. Your dying brother is asking for you. I think, ” Murphy paused, leaning over Octavia, “That you should see him.”
She was silent for a moment, face hidden by a curtain of hair.
Murphy saw two outcomes: one, where she would kill him with a slow, painful death, or two, where she would agree and go with him.
He shook his head and headed for the door when he heard her shift.
“Fine.” She said. “But don’t expect me to be nice.”
Clarke jumped when she heard Murphy open the door.
“Are we interrupting something?” he asked, eyeing their linked hands.
Clarke shook her head, but Bellamy asked, “We?”
Octavia appeared behind Murphy, a scowl on her face. “Yeah, we.”
Bellamy’s eyes lit up slightly.
“Oh, don’t get too excited,” Octavia snapped.
“How’s he doing?” Murphy asked Clarke, leaving Octavia glowering in the corner.
Clarke pulled him aside. “The venom’s spread into his torso,” she said in a hushed tone. “I’m worried that his lungs or heart won’t be able to beat alone anymore.”
Murphy put his hand on Clarke’s shoulder, wondering why he was doing such a thing. The sight of his friend seeming so helpless brought something out of him that he didn’t even know existed. “Can you do anything?”
Clarke shook her head. “Nothing other than trying to make him as comfortable as possible while he deteriorates.
Octavia’s eyes flicked over to Murphy and Clarke, and she joined them.
“So he’s really going to die, then?”
Clarke and Murphy glanced at each other, before Clarke answered with a solemn, “Yes.”
Octavia sighed and closed her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to talk to him, then.”
“Cool. So I guess I can leave then.” Murphy headed towards the door backwards. “C’mon Clarke.”
“I should stay here to keep an eye on Bellamy…” Clarke began, glancing at where Bellamy had his eyes closed.
“Octavia can call you if he needs help.”
With one last glance at Bellamy, Clarke followed Murphy out.
Octavia walked slowly to her brother’s bedside, as if she was walking through molasses. She stood like a stone next to his cot, and when he opened his eyes to look into hers, he smiled.
“Hey, O.”
“Hi,” she replied curtly, arms crossed.
“Thanks for coming.” He offered, but her demeanor didn’t change.
“I knew I’d probably feel guilty if I didn’t.”
Bellamy glanced away for a moment, and a tense silence passed between them.
“It’s not my fault, you know,” he said finally. “I never wanted that for Lincoln. I didn’t know that that was what Pike had planned for him.”
Angry tears brimmed in Octavia’s eyes. “But you let it happen anyway. And now he’s dead.”
Bellamy’s eyes met hers. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. But you don’t have to hate me for it.”
Another silence passed before Octavia let some of her emotions slip through the cracks. “I loved him, Bell,” she whispered. “And then Pike killed him. He taught me everything I know about Earth, and he saved my life multiple times. And now he’s gone. All I have left is you, Bell, but then you had to go and get bitten by some… thing , and now you’re dying and there’s no hope for you, and I’m going to be left on this miserable planet alone, and-” Octavia was suddenly cut off by Bellamy breathing shallowly, as if he wasn’t getting enough air.
“Bell?” Octavia asked, alarmed. “Bellamy?”
He continued to struggle, the lack of air beginning to turn his face blue, and he stared frantically at her, grabbing her arm.
“Clarke!” Octavia shouted, alarmed. “Clarke!”
Clarke ran in, and upon seeing Bellamy gasping for air started digging through the medical bag on the table.
“He can’t breathe on his own,” she said, pulling out a breathing tube. She ran over to Bellamy, and instructed Octavia to tilt his head back slightly. Clarke prepped the tube and ventilator, and once she handed Octavia a flashlight, she prepared to insert the tube.
“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered. “But this is going to hurt.”
With careful precision, Clarke slowly began to slide the tube into Bellamy’s mouth, and he gagged on it once it reached his throat. He began to gag, his face screwing up in pain at the feeling of having something shoved down his throat.
“Hold his head tighter,” Clarke instructed Octavia, and in one swift movement, she slide the tube all the way in. She then hooked that to the ventilator, and air began to flow into Bellamy’s lungs. He laid there stiffly, his only movement the eerie, unnatural rise and fall of his chest.
Clarke breathed a sigh of relief as the blue color faded from Bellamy’s lips and his face started to relax.
“Will he be okay?” Octavia asked, the reality of it all finally sinking in.
Clarke shook her head. “We all know what’s coming, Octavia…. He doesn’t have much longer. He can’t speak with the ventilator, and he seems to be unresponsive now, so all I can do is hook him up to an EEG so we’ll know when…” Clarke swallowed thickly. “When he dies.”
Octavia looked down, and took her brother’s hand in hers. “Can I have a moment alone with him?”
Clarke nodded, and with one final check on Bellamy’s equipment, she backed out of the room slowly.
Octavia knelt down next to Bellamy. “Hey, Bell,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his face. “I know we just talked and all, but…. Now it’s suddenly become real.”
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I really am sorry for what I did and said to you,” she said softly. Then, with the sudden urge to get as close to her brother as possible, Octavia carefully climbed into the cot with Bellamy, curling into his side like she did when she was younger, feeling his still fingers slowly losing their warmth, breathing in his scent of sweat and leaves and soil. He had always comforted her when she was afraid, and now, even though she couldn’t tell if he was afraid, she would try to comfort him.
“You’ve done so much for me, and I never really told you how much I appreciated it. Back on the Ark, you took care of me. You knew how much I hated hiding in the floor.” Octavia shook her head, smiling sadly, when something in Bellamy’s backpack caught her eye. She carefully slid out of the cot and made her way to it, pulling out a battered copy of The Iliad.
“Oh, Bell,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the cover. “You brought it with you?”
She flipped through its many pages, the spine worn from years of use and its pages yellowed. “Whenever I would get scared, you would always read this to me,” she murmured, and traced the words with her fingers. “I guess I can only return the favor.”
Turning to the first page, Octavia began to read.
“Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.”
She read until the words blurred with her tears, though she refused to let them spill.
“Can you even hear me?” she whispered sadly. Her heart grew heavy as she realized that she would never hear his voice again; would never hear his laugh or see him smile.
The EEG beeped as the line suddenly spiked in brief activity.
Octavia looked at him, then at the EEG, then at Bellamy again.
“Bell?” she asked. “Can you hear me?”
The EEG beeped again.
“Is that you? Are you responding?”
Beep.
“Does that mean yes?”
Yes.
Octavia gasped and threw her arms around her brother. “You’re still here,” she whispered. After a pause, she added, “You know, I never said thank you for everything. I was too blinded by my anger and pain after what happened to Lincoln, that I never really saw what you sacrificed for me. Well, thank you for staying with me. Thank you for reading The Iliad to me, and for doing what you always thought would be the best for me. Though I didn’t see it then, I see now that you really did mean well.”
Yes.
Octavia brushed the hair back off his forehead, pursing her lips to keep back the tears for just a little longer. Eyes glued to the waxing and waning line on the EEG, she went on. “Thank you for taking me to my first dance. Thank you for coming to the ground to keep me safe. Thank you for putting up with me even when I’m an absolute brat.”
Yes .
Octavia laughed, a few tears dribbling over her cheeks. “So you do think I’m a brat. At least you’re honest.”
His lack of any response proved she didn’t have much time. “Oh, Bell, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry for what I did to you—for letting you think I hated you. For letting you think I believed it was your fault. I’m so, so sorry.”
The hand that was cupped around his cheek was suddenly wet, and she realized that warm tears were leaking from his closed eyes. A sob escaped her. “Bell, you’re crying!”
Yes . It was so much smaller than the other spikes. He was close. She had to tell him.
“I love you, Bell,” she whispered into his ear. More than anything on earth. More than I have words for. I love you so, so much. You know that, right?”
Yes .
Then the constant waves of the EEG and the beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed to a stop, never to start again.
“Yu gonplei ste odon,” Octavia said softly, and kissed Bellamy’s forehead.
And the warrior lowered her head and let her tears flow, having lost everyone she loved in this world.