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Octavia is barely ten feet into the camp when she starts to feel stifled. The Ark looms up ahead of her and even though the sun is shining and the sky is so blue and open that it's dizzying, just the memory of the cold, steel walls surrounding her and the heavy clomp of boots above her settles like a weight on her chest, threatening to suffocate her.
She squeezes Lincoln's hand and stops, leans into him, lingers just shy of the entrance. She wants to tell him that they should leave, that this place has never really been a home to her. He seems to sense her uneasiness and stoops down to kiss her softly on the forehead. He gestures back towards the entrance, at the figures of Bellamy and Clarke stopped just outside of camp. She's too far away to hear what's being said, but she can see the way Clarke's weary frame is hunched away from the camp, finds herself studying the shock Bellamy's face, the pleas forming on his lips - and figures it out all the same.
"She's not staying." She hears Lincoln remark quietly beside her. She looks up at him and sees more sadness than surprise on his face. She watches as Clarke gently kisses her brother and wraps her arms tightly around him. She doesn't think it's wishful thinking (because she's not really all that sure what she wishes right now, when it comes to Clarke) when she gets the feeling that the hug does not have an air of finality about it. She notices that Bellamy does not break the hug first, that the pain on his face is raw and open when Clarke backs away. She watches as Clarke turns around and squares her shoulders, walks until she disappears into the treeline without once turning around. She sees her brother turn and trudge back into camp, disappearing into himself. She sees him almost turn around twice but instead she sees him square his jaw and lock eyes on the Ark as if it's a lifeline - which, she reflects, perhaps it is.
She squeezes Lincoln's hand once more before letting go and jogging over to Bellamy. Her feelings about Clarke might be a clusterfuck of emotion, but her feelings about Bellamy never will. He's stopped in the middle of camp and is looking around him. She sees his eyes dart over to parents reuniting with their children, hands running over faces of loved ones thought lost forever; she hears the sharp intake of breath when he spots someone alone, eyes filled with the anguish of lost hopes. "Bell," she says softly, reaches out to touch him gently on the hand. He turns to her then, looking young and lost in a way that he was never allowed to be, and she pulls him to her, arms crushing his weary frame. He wraps his arms around her tightly, and buries his face in her hair. She holds onto him, hopes that the strength she has transfers itself to him. This place may not have ever needed her or even wanted her, but Bellamy does. Now more than ever. So she squashes thoughts of open forests and secluded rivers and holds onto him. He takes a deep breath and lifts her slightly off the ground, before setting her back down and letting go. He smiles down at her, and though it's a small, brittle thing, she's glad to see it.
"I'm glad you're here, O." He says. Then lifts his eyes to a figure behind her. "Both of you." She turns and sees Lincoln standing a few feet behind them, uncertainty lining his posture. His expression remains apprehensive as Bellamy walks over to him. They stare at each other for a long moment until Bellamy extends his hand out to Lincoln. Lincoln looks at it, the apprehension and guilt etched on his face changing to gratitude, and grabs it firmly. Lincoln nods at Bellamy and says, "Let us know how we can help." Bellamy nods at him once more before letting go of his arm and surveying the camp around them.
"Bell, look," Octavia murmers, and motions over to the figure of Kane standing at the entrance of the Ark, eyes scanning the camp for something they both know he won't find. Bellamy sighs softly and straightens the strap of his gun. "Guess I have some news I need to deliver." He mutters and heads over to where Kane is standing.
Octavia watches him go, sees the slump in shoulders, and for a moment a flash of hatred for Clarke flares up in her, crystalizes into something hard and sharp. Because in a way, Clarke took the coward's way out and left the burden of leadership, of rebuilding, on Bellamy. But the hatred only lasts a moment before it forms itself into something more complicated. Because in the same way, she can also recall the stricken look on Clarke's face when she stepped into the mess hall, walking over the burned bodies of children that she had placed there; remembers how Clarke stared down at her hands during the trek back to camp, as if she couldn't quite believe that they belonged to her.
No, whatever else Clarke is, she certainly isn't a coward.
She sighs, the long night and trek back to camp finally catching up to her, and sways a bit where she stands. Lincoln comes up to stand beside her and grabs her hand, steadying her. ""We need to get some rest." She says, pulling him towards the entrance of the ark and settling on the ground just outside of it. "But, I wanna be here for Bellamy when he's done with Abby and Kane." Lincoln nods and sits beside her, twining his hands in her hair when she lays her head in his lap.
He looks down at her and moves his hand from her hair to stroke her softly on the cheek. "And what will we do then?" He asks. She looks up at him, leans into his hand and thinks about another girl and her brother, another camp, another time. Thinks about the answer that girl and her brother had said then. Thinks about all the lives lost and choices made since then and answers with the one thing that she knows is true.
"Whatever we need to survive."