Archive of Our Own ^beta

Miller finishes his basic training for the guards without much affair; his father gives him a slightly bigger smile when he gives Miller the initiation badge than he gives the other guard candidates, but otherwise, he’s like every other guard there.

His assignment comes in later that week, after the celebration of getting initiated is pretty much over. He’s not surprised that he gets assigned to Farm Station—he wasn’t exactly top of his class of initiates—with the occasional shift at Mecha Station.

He’s glad to find out that Bellamy is assigned with him on most days. Despite Bellamy being three years older than him, they’d hit it off pretty much straight away. As they walk towards Farm Station, Bellamy says, “I would’ve thought that you’d be assigned somewhere—better.”

“Why?”

“Your father’s Chief Guard.”

Miller shrugs. “I don’t mind,” he says, “and no one would’ve given me any credit if my dad just gave me all the best shit.”

“Well, shit is what we’ll be dealing with,” Bellamy says. “Cows and chickens and all other forms of livestock—”

“I think you can deal,” Miller says, nudging Bellamy with his shoulder. Bellamy gives him a small glare and glances around nervously for one moment before he relaxes. Miller knows he shouldn’t breach professionalism on their first day (or at all, really), but Bellamy is more uptight about following the rules. He has more to lose; sometimes Miller forgets that, as the Chief’s son.

They enter Farm Station just as the farmers are getting out the tools and getting to their positions; the head guard of their area, a woman named Alia, gestures for Bellamy and Miller to follow her. She explains their duties—mostly making sure that the people of Farm Station don’t take any of the food, that at night nobody else comes to steal the food, and otherwise patrol the area—and then points out the other guards with them.

Bellamy is sent over near the greenhouse. He nods to her politely, giving a very respectful, “Yes, ma’am,” and when he’s gone, Alia turns to Miller.

“Don’t think for a second that you’ll get any special treatment because you’re the Chief Guard’s son,” Alia says.

Miller wants to protest, rage at her, tell her that he has never once expected preferential treatment from anyone because of his father’s title. He doesn’t, just stifles his indignations and says, “Of course, ma’am.”

She peers at him a little longer, then nods curtly. “Get to your station, soldier.”

Miller’s been put to an area that’s actual farmland. He’d never been to Farm Station before—whenever he’d met with Bryan before, it’d never been in Farm Station—and he’s shocked by the sheer amount of farmland there is. Rows upon rows of soil, divided into lines, with crops growing out of it and workers walking up and down the lines. Miller technically doesn’t need to walk along the rows and rows of crops, but he’s never seen such a thing before.

After some time, he rests on the wall by long, tall crops that he recognizes as corn. He wonders if he’s actually supposed to walk along with the workers to make sure that they’re not taking anything, but he figures that it would be invading too much personal space, so he trusts them at this distance.

He and Bellamy are assigned until the end of the day, and Bellamy decides to stay back so he can help a twelve-year-old with clean-up in the storage room. Miller gives Bellamy a look—this is so typical of Bellamy—but helps out anyways.

The kid needs help sorting out materials into boxes and then lifting the boxes onto shelves, and while they’re lending a hand in the backroom, some of the other farmhands come in the front room, laughing and joking with each other.

“I mean, did you see them?” a guy’s voice says. “They were completely clueless, like they had no idea what corn was.”

Miller and Bellamy exchange a glance. There’s more laughing, and a girl’s voice says, “Oh, Monty, don’t be so mean.”

“Mean? You know they think they’re better than us, all because they wear a fancy uniform and have a gun and we’re working in the dirt,” the guy replies. Miller moves towards the doorway, just to see who it is—the voices sound young, so there’s a possibility he knows them. “I mean,” the guys continues, “should we really be trusting these people with our guns when they need help figuring out the difference between cauliflower and broccoli?”

Miller can see them now, the guy carrying in boxes stacked on one another and the girl holding multiple tools. The guy bumps his hip into one of the shelves and some of the boxes tumble from his stack. He curses and pauses, unsure how to pick them up without dropping all the other boxes.

Miller picks up the two boxes that fell and re-stacks them, and the guy—Monty—says, “Thank you,” and then notices who helped him. His face flushes.

“It seems like I’m not the one who needs help, Farm Boy,” Miller says, and Monty reddens even further. Miller doesn’t wait for him to say anything else, just turns and heads back to Bellamy. Bellamy and the boy are just finishing up, so Miller waits for them to finish before heading off with Bellamy. When they enter the front room, Monty and the girl are gone.

As they walk back to Alpha station, where the dorms are, Bellamy says, “Miller, you didn’t have to be so rude with that kid.”

“I know,” Miller says, because Bellamy is usually right on these things.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows at him before shaking his head, and since Miller knows Bellamy well, he can see that it’s fondly.

--

The next day, while Miller walks along the stone pathways on the fields—something one of the farmhands had shown him—Monty comes out of the corn stalks and says, “Can we talk?”

Miller nods his head and follows Monty into a small path between the corn stalks.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other day,” Monty says, if a bit awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“No need to apologize, Farm Boy,” Miller says, and Monty huffs and flushes a little. “No harm done.”

When Miller turns to leave, Monty says, “What? You’re not going to say anything?”

Miller almost laughs, but he manages to keep himself in check. “I probably shouldn’t have been so snappy either.”

Monty raises an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s your apology? You didn't even say sorry.”

“I’m not really that type of guy,” Miller says, and before Monty can say anything, someone comes down the path.

It’s a woman Miller doesn’t recognize, but Monty straightens a little.

“Mister Green,” she says, glancing between him and Miller. “What is it, exactly, that you two are doing?”

Miller doesn’t like the implications of her words, and he’s not sure what bothers him more—the fact that it’s possible she’s implying they’re messing around (and that it would somehow be wrong), or that she’s not talking about that at all and Miller is just paranoid about it.

“I asked him for help,” Monty says hurriedly. “I have my basket of goods and my tools and the water bucket, and I can’t carry it all. He was the first person I saw.”

The woman looks between them again and says, “Well, get back to work,” and Monty nods stiffly. The woman stays until Monty picks up the food basket and water bucket, and Miller obediently picks up the tools and follows Monty out of the corn stalks. He’s not really sure what happened, but something about it rubs him the wrong way.

Monty stops by these giant containers on one wall, each filled with different plants. Monty gestures him closer with his head and takes his time putting each piece of corn in the container.

“What was that all about?” Miller says, keeping his voice low.

“They don’t like us talking,” Monty says, “Farm Station and the guards. They think it’s distracting us from each of our works.”

Miller gets the sudden feeling like he’s being watched. “What the fuck?”

Monty gives Miller a piece of corn, so he holds it while Monty deposits the rest of them. He assumes it’s to make him look like he’s doing something.

“You guys aren’t just guards, you’re the eyes and ears to the leaders about Farm Station,” Monty whispers, “and we’re not just farmers, we’re thieves.”

Miller’s stomach churns at that—he remembers the last time his father caught him stealing, can still remember the way he said Nate in a defeated tone, and I already lost my wife to a disease, please don’t let me lose my son to space.

Monty’s hit the end of his basket, so he snatches the corn from Miller hands and throws it away. “You better run,” he says.

--

Miller’s habit of calling Monty “Farm Boy” doesn’t go away. He doesn’t mean for it to actually become a habit—the first couple of times were purely on accident—but once he notices that the name frustrates Monty to no end, he makes sure to use it pointedly.

After one such incidents, Monty glares at him and hisses, “I know you know my name.”

“Yes,” Miller says, grinning at him. “We had chemistry together my last year of schooling.”

Monty’s expression turns from a playfulness to shock; for some reason, he hadn’t expected that.

Miller smirks. “Or don’t you remember, Farm Boy?”

The shock leaves his face and he’s back to glaring. “Of course I remember,” he says, “I just didn’t think that you would.”

Miller snorts. “Everyone knew you, mostly because they were pissed some sixteen-year-old was smarter than them at eighteen.” A pleased smile curls Monty’s mouth. Miller says, “And it’s much more fun to call you Farm Boy than Monty,” and Monty rolls his eyes, his hands already digging back through the dirt.

But Miller does actually remember him—always quiet, never talked much to the older kids unless he was in groups or answering a question for the class. Sometimes he would crack a joke and the older kids would laugh and look at each other in a way that said he’s not so bad. They’d been weirdly fond of him, ruffling his hair and teasing him. Miller had never participated, since he’d never had any interest—at that point, he thinks, he’d probably been getting over his breakup with Bryan by getting involved in theft again.

He notices Alia walking his way, so he dips his head at Monty and walks away to inspect some of the other workers. When he gets to Harper, who’s spreading out seeds in the dirt, he whispers, “You missed a spot.”

She gives him a small glare and puts her hands on her hips. “Like you’d know,” she says, but a second later she starts laughing.

He finally ends his walk by standing next to Bellamy at the doors. Bellamy gives him a small smile and says, “Was your walk good?”

“Oh, fantastic.”

Bellamy manages to hold back his laugh, but his mouth still twitches. “The Ark guards, pride in the uniform, glory in our future, and excitement every single day.”

Miller laughs, but keeps it quiet. “A life of honor and respect, truly.”

He and Bellamy exchange a fond glance before they manage to control their expressions. Bellamy looks behind them at the farmlands and says, “You stopped by Monty again.”

“So?”

Bellamy shakes his head, pressing his lips together to hid a smile. “Nothing.”

“Bellamy—”

“Just wanted to be sure you aren’t bullying him.”

“When have I ever been a bully?” Miller says, playing along. He and Bellamy know he’s rude, but not a bully—and they both know what Bellamy really means.

“Oh, to me? Always,” Bellamy says, and Miller has to look away and focus on the monotonous grey of the Ark’s metal walls to keep himself from laughing.

They’re quiet for minutes afterwards. Something that no one tells you is that patrolling Farm Station is strangely quiet, much quieter than any of the other stations. Part of Miller’s training had been to patrol Mecha, and it had always been noisy, people yelling at each other and machines whirring loudly. Farm Station is nothing like that—there’s a small hum of the machinery that cleans all of the vegetables, as well as the occasional electronic plow, but otherwise it’s silent. It allows for quite a bit of introspection, if you’re one to like that. Miller is not.

Bellamy waits until one of the electronic plow has turned on to turn slightly towards Miller and say, “There’s another meeting in my room.”

Miller is careful not to let any interest show, makes sure that this conversation looks as normal as possible. “Tonight?”

“Yes.”

Miller nods. “I’ll be there.” He’ll have to get something for Octavia after his shifts end.

Miller’s shift ends forty-five minutes later, and he and Bellamy knock knuckles before he leaves. They would shake hands, but as Miller has already found out, if it even looks like your hands are lingering, people on the Ark get ideas—ideas they don’t like.

--

Miller isn’t the first to arrive, but there’s already a lot of noise in Bellamy’s room. He knocks on the door and waits to be let in. Bellamy ends up opening the door, notices the cookies in Miller’s hands, and says, “God, she’s getting spoiled today.”

Miller walks in, where Raven and Octavia are already sitting on the floor and talking. They both welcome him in when he enters, and Octavia’s eyes light up as she says, “Are those for me?”

“Not at all,” Miller lies, but Octavia manages to snatch them from him anyways. Miller technically stole them from his father (the only person he’s allowed to steal from anymore), because his father isn’t exactly the best at hiding places, and Miller knows his father hoards these.

“Well, it’s not as good as Raven’s gift,” she says, holding out a bottle to him.

He shakes his head at Raven as he takes the bottle. “You always have to outshine me, don’t you?”

Raven grins. “You know it.”

He takes a sip of the bottle and savors the rich taste of alcohol. “Damn,” he says, “where the fuck did you get such good shit?”

Raven gives a casual shrug. “I have my sources.”

Octavia pulls Miller down with them to the floor and thanks him for the gift, kissing his cheek quickly. She and Raven go back to what they were talking about earlier, while Bellamy stands with his back against the door.

Bellamy is one of the only guards not dorming in Alpha Station, since it’s technically not required for guards to dorm there. Miller had never understood why Bellamy wanted to stay here until he’d met Octavia.

Clarke and Wells make it about thirty minutes later; Wells enters with a quick apology, saying, “We almost couldn’t make it out,” and Raven and Miller smile at each other. Clarke and Wells are graduating from school this year, so they still live with their parents; it’s something Bellamy, Raven, and Miller tease them mercilessly for.

After they enter, Bellamy locks the door behind them and joins them in the circle on the floor. Miller hands him the bottle to take a drink, and Bellamy grimaces at the taste.

“That’s not juice, is it,” Clarke says, looking excited.

“Oh, God,” Wells says. “Give it to me.”

Bellamy hands the bottle over to Wells. “Bad day?”

Wells nods his head, adds quickly, “My father,” and takes a drink. They all make a noise of understanding, since they’ve heard stories about the Chancellor. Wells splutters when he alcohol hits his tongue, and he pulls away sharply. “You guys like this?” he asks. “It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be so classist,” Raven says, snatching the bottle away from him and taking a long gulp without even the smallest wince. “This is the best contraband you’ll find around here. We all don’t drink fancy wine.”

“We don’t either,” Clarke begins, but Raven interrupts before she can go further with a, “Don’t even start, Griffin.”

“So what happened?” Miller asks. “With your dad, I mean.”

“He was pressuring me again about becoming a politician after him,” Wells says. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him no, but he never listens.”

“My mom too,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes. “My dad is a little kinder about it, but she keeps emphasizing how the Council needs brains like mine and I shouldn’t give it up. I could quote you the entire spiel by now.”

No one really speaks, and Miller can see Raven and Bellamy exchanging a glance.

Clarke notices. “What?” she asks.

Miller doesn’t quite know what to say—that Raven’s mother was an alcoholic who would trade rations for alcohol, that Bellamy’s dad abused him, that Octavia’s dad was floated for arson, that even Miller’s dad went through a couple of years of alcoholism after Miller’s mom died, and compared to them, their parents seem like what regular parents should be like.

That’s apparently not what Bellamy and Raven had been thinking.

Raven says, “I honestly can’t believe I’m saying this, but your mom is right, Clarke.”

Clarke gives her an incredulous look. “What?”

“If there’s anyone who should get into politics, it should be you and Wells.”

“Absolutely not,” Wells says.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bellamy says, his voice harsh. “The Ark is fucked up and corrupt and we all know it—that’s why we’ve been having these meetings in the first place. You two know that it’s corrupt, you two know all the problems because we’ve talked about it with you.”

“Then you guys do it,” Wells says, voice flat. “You know it’s corrupt, too.”

Miller shakes his head. “There’s no way he’d be able to get elected, Jaha.”

Raven nods, taking another sip and handing it to Octavia. “Miller’s right,” she says. “Who do you think people would elect and the Council would approve—Bellamy, some low ranking guard, or some kid who’s been raised to be a politician?”

“It’s happened before,” Clarke argues. “People rise above their station.”

Raven starts laughing, and Miller can’t quite hold back his snort of contempt.

“How easy do you think it is?” Raven says, her tone both incredulous and disdainful. “You think I became the best G-mechanic of our generation because I just happened to rise above my station? I was had natural-born talent?” Raven lets out a short, harsh laugh. “My mother would be so drunk that she wouldn’t know her tools went missing. Wouldn’t know that I took them. To keep me busy, she would give me literal scraps of her work. I’ve been dealing with metal since I was four, not because I’m lucky, but because my mother was an alcoholic. And now I’m the best mechanic the Ark has ever seen.” Raven’s smile is bitter.

“Take me and Bellamy,” Miller says. “It took Bellamy three years to get accepted into the guards. I got in my first year, because—not that anyone would admit it—my father is Chief Guard. And my father didn’t just become Chief Guard. My great-great-grandfather entered the guards, my great-grandfather and grandfather made themselves known, and then my father could be Chief Guard. That’s four generations.”

“There’s a kid in school with you guys right now, name is Monty Green,” Raven says. Miller jolts at the name and looks at her. “He’s one of the best engineers I’ve ever seen. Part of it is natural talent, but where would a farm boy get the experience? It’s because everyone in Mecha helped him, gave him tools, looked the other way when pieces of machinery went missing. He’ll end up rising above his station because he’s lucky enough not to get caught doing all this illegal shit. And illegal shit is how you change your status. Would you recommend that method of rising above your station to everyone?”

“So you’re all criminals,” Clarke says.

“Fuck you,” Octavia jumps in. “I am not a criminal just because I was born. And fuck you for thinking so.”

“I’m the only criminal here,” Miller says. Both Clarke and Wells give him confused looks. “Octavia was born. Bellamy stole food rations for his sister. Raven stole food rations because her mother would trade them, and she stole parts so she could work. Monty stole parts so he could get experience. They did that all for survival. I didn’t need to steal anything. I stole shit just because I liked it.” He smiles at them. “Imagine if my father decided to turn his son in instead of protect him. I’d be dead right now, floated off into space.”

Clarke looks away from him, and Wells looks down at his hands.

“You can thank Monty for the drink, by the way,” Raven says, “since he’s the one who made it.”

That’s another shock for Miller, but he contains it. He’ll have to ask Monty about it, since it seems strange to Miller—Monty has to much to lose if he were caught.

“You guys have been raised by politicians, to think like politicians,” Bellamy says. “Only instead of being like every other politicians’ kids, who spew the same shit their parents do and get nothing done on the Ark, you guys are here. You see it with your own eyes. You know, and you’re in perfect positions to do something about it.”

“So, what,” Wells says, “all of you can do what you want to do, but if we want to do something else, we can’t?”

Raven’s mouth twists bitterly, and she doesn’t say anything. Bellamy just puts his hand on Octavia’s knee. Miller knows he has the perfect moment to say something. He grew up with some of the privilege that Clarke and Wells did, but also knows the problems Raven, Bellamy, and Octavia have.

“It’s about more than you two,” Miller says quietly. “It’s about everyone on the Ark.”

Clarke makes a frustrated noise, grabs the bottle, and takes a long drink. She grimaces but puts it back down without much complaint—they can tell it’s not to her taste, but she drinks more than Wells, so she can deal with it.

“And if our opinion doesn’t change?” Clarke says.

Octavia rubs her hands over her face. Sometimes, it’s hard for Miller to remember that Octavia is the same age as Wells and Clarke, only she never got to make friends or go to school or get to find a career path. When she turns eighteen, Bellamy is going to the courts of the Ark and filing to allow Octavia to become a regular citizen.

“You guys have three months to figure it out,” says Octavia, and Wells and Clarke exchange a glance.

They leave thirty minutes before curfew, just to make sure they all get home on time. Bellamy pulls Miller to the side and says, “This upcoming week, I want to check in on the Ark’s constitution.”

“What for?” Bellamy’s voice is low, because he knows they’ll have to break in, and he doesn’t want the others to know.

“I want to check the laws on the one-child policy. I think I can find a loophole.”

Miller nods. “Alright, I’m in.”

Bellamy smiles at him. “Thank you.” As Miller turns to leave, he catches Miller’s shirtsleeve and says, “Hey, do you know about anybody who could deal with the camera?”

“Camera?”

“Yes. I know you can get us into the law room unnoticed, but there are cameras. We need to get rid of those.”

Miller shakes his head. “I don’t.”

Bellamy takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll come up with something, then. Thank you, Nate.”

“Of course.” They clasp each other’s arms as a goodbye, and then Miller heads home.

--

Miller’s next shift is night duty, so he allows himself to sleep in late. He hasn’t taken a night shift in a while, so he tries to rest as much as possible.

He meets up with the three other guards in front of Farm Station, and waits until every person they’re supposed to relieve leaves. Night duty is almost stranger than regular duty, because while during the day they can focus their attention on the workers, there’s nothing in here but the plants. Neither the machines for cleaning nor the electronic plows are running, so it’s eerily silent, more so than during the day. Miller feels extra aware of his own footsteps.

He and the other spread out, and Miller starts with the greenhouses. It’s also easier to keep track of every place during the day, since everyone is assigned to one area, and the room is brightly lit. At night, it’s darker, and people could be hiding anywhere. They can’t hang out on the wall like Miller usually does; they have to keep walking around.

Miller checks the greenhouse quickly, since there aren’t that many places to hide here. Miller then checks the community garden in the far corner. The community garden was created so that other people in the Ark could come here and grow things if they wanted. A couple of times, Miller has seen Marcus Kane and his mother here, kneeling among the dirt and growing flowers.

After a couple of hours, the rest of his group decides to hang out along one of the walls, right in the sight of the doorway.

“I’ve done this loads of times,” one of the guys, Parker, says. “From this spot, you can see anyone who enters and leaves.”

Miller gets bored of their talking after a good thirty minutes—they’re not the most inspiring people Miller’s ever met, so he excuses himself to do another round of searching.

This time when he walks through, he just takes a good look around. He doesn’t really get to look much during the day, even though it’s easier to see, because he’s always supposed to be watching the farmhands. He heads to the orchards, because he’s never patrolled this area yet. It’s equally interesting and creepy walking through the trees. The trees are too organized to be like a forest, and all of the trees are fruit bearing, but Miller can’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to walk on the earth, with forests and nature surrounding you.

He walks through a row of orange trees when he thinks he hears some rustling. It stops soon after, but Miller decides to check it out anyways. He heads back down the row, pauses every couple of steps to hear more, and when he turns to the next row, where the apple trees start, he hears more rustling, along with what he’s pretty sure is whispering. He follows it down the apple trees, but he doesn’t see anyone. He’s pretty sure he’s not randomly hearing things, and then as he’s walking by one tree, there’s a small of rustle of leaves. It’s not much, could be anything, but it causes him to stop and look up at the tree.

He pulls his gun from its holster. “Get out,” he says, his voice low and hushed. “Now.”

There’s a pause, where he thinks they won’t listen and he’ll actually have to shoot, and then two people jump down from the tree. It’s Monty and Harper, and Miller’s arm lowers, just for a moment, before he’s raising it again. He notices their bags a moment later, filled and bulging.

“You’re stealing,” he accuses.

Monty steps in front of his gun, and the shock of it makes Miller almost lower his gun again. “Harper, get out of here,” Monty says, and Harper’s running off through the trees before Miller can even shout.

He should, he thinks. He should shout for the other guards, he should threaten Monty, he should stop this, but he feels frozen.

“Miller,” Monty says, and he’s keeping his voice low as well. He doesn’t want to be heard, Miller realizes. “Please. Let us go. You have to let us go.”

“You were stealing,” Miller repeats, and the phrase feels horribly hypocritical coming out of his mouth. His hands are shaking, he realizes, around the gun.

“We have to,” Monty says. His arms are raised, and his voice is calm. “Otherwise people would go hungry. The first people to get their food rations cut is Farm Station.”

Miller frowns, then shakes his head. “No—no, Farm Station is allowed to have their own personal gardens, they grow their own food—”

Monty scoffs. “That’s not true. The government cut our food rations, because, to them, it’s punishment for not growing enough food for everyone else. We decided to grow our own food so that we’d have enough to feed our families, but once the government saw it, they cut our rations even more. They told everyone that we were feeding ourselves by the gardens, but we aren’t. We can’t.” Monty steps forward more, his arms still raised. “Miller, our people will starve if we don’t take from the farms.”

Miller shifts his stance, trying to control himself. “They’ll figure it out,” he says. “You know they keep track of the amount of food you produce.”

Monty shakes his head. “We always lower the food number a little,” he says. “So that when we steal, it’s never under. We’ve been doing it for years, Miller.”

Miller’s feelings are so tumultuous that he doesn’t know what to do or say—so many parts of him are warring with each other. The thief in him doesn’t want to turn in another thief; the person in him who craves justice wants to allow this to keep happening, to fix this injustice; the part of him that swore an oath to the guards wants to turn Monty in.

“Miller, please,” Monty whispers. He slowly reaches one of his hands out and touches Miller’s wrist. Miller’s pulse heaves. “Please, you have to let me go.”

Monty moves forward until the gun is pressing into his stomach, and Miller knows from training that it would be absolutely painful to be shot there. I don’t want to shoot him, Miller thinks, and he knows which side of him won.

“Get out of here, Farm Boy,” Miller says scathingly, and he lowers his gun. “The next guard you meet won’t be as nice as me.”

Monty lets out a small gasp, and he moves closer, putting more pressure on Miller’s wrist. “As you wish,” Monty whispers, and then he disappears through the trees.

--

Miller returns to his dorm at five in the morning, and he collapses on his back and prays for sleep.

It doesn’t come. Part of him can’t believe that that just happened, that he caught Monty and Harper, of all people, stealing, that he hadn’t done anything.

There’s a part of him that knows, with absolute certainty, that if it had been anybody but Monty, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would’ve shouted for the others and arrested whoever it was, because they were stealing other people’s rations, someone else’s food and life, and that deserved punishment.

But it hadn’t been anyone. It had been Monty and Harper—it had been Monty—and Miller had hesitated. That hesitation allowed for Harper to escape, for Monty to start talking, and once he talked, once his voice hit Miller, Miller should’ve known he was gone. He hadn’t said a word, not to any of the other guards, because Monty had an in. Maybe an in he doesn’t know he has.

Miller is an absolute idiot.

And he can’t fall asleep, because he keeps replaying the night in his head. They’d hidden in the trees, and of course they’d known a way to sneak in and out of the farmlands without being caught. “I’ve done this loads of times,” Parker said, but how could a guard who patrolled Farm Station know more than people who’d grown up in Farm Station?

Idiot, idiot, he thinks to himself.

He gets up from the bed and pulls out a chest underneath, the chest that carries all of his most beloved possessions: the baseball and glove he and his dad played with when he was younger, passed down in the Miller family for generations; his mother’s jewelry that his father hadn’t taken; and one of Bryan’s old love notes.

There’s a book in there as well, one that he’d stolen. His father had made Miller return everything he’d stolen, but they’d done it so he wasn’t incriminated. David Miller had put everything in one box and hidden it in Mecha station, in one of the abandoned closets. One of the janitors found it, and David proclaimed it the stash of the thief everyone had called the Dread Pirate.

That had been the end of Miller’s career of larceny.

But he’d kept the book, because it had been such a beautiful story that he couldn’t give it back. Miller already had a good collection of books on his bookshelf, so much so that sometimes it felt like he was running a small library with the way people borrowed from him, but this one he had to keep hidden because it was stolen. The book was called Treasure Island, and he’d loved a story about hidden treasure, maps and plots and thieves. He’d loved the name Dread Pirate, because it made him feel like one of the characters of the book.

He flips through it, trying to think about what it means to be a good person. Is Monty a good person because he’s stealing for others, in a Robin Hood-esque way, even though it’s stealing and lying? Is Miller a good person, for not turning them in and letting the farmhands get food, or is he a bad person for not upholding the law? Is his father a bad person because he didn’t turn his son in to be floated at eighteen, or is he a good person for not betraying his only son that way? In a couple of days, he and Bellamy are going to break into the law room, but it’s for Octavia. When do the ends truly justify the means?

Miller doesn’t know.

Miller puts the book back and kicks the chest under his bed. He lies down again, and this time, his eyes are heavy enough to stay closed, and he falls asleep.

--

He doesn’t have the same shift as Monty’s for another couple of days, and when he does, he feels as though every time he looks at Monty, everyone knows that he let Monty and Harper go. Alia walks by him multiple times, so Miller acts like Bellamy would. She even gives him a nod of approval once. Miller has to stifle a laugh, and he promises himself to tell Bellamy about it later.

Monty finally approaches him, and says in his most detached voice, “I need help with rearranging pots in the greenhouse, will you help?”

Miller searches Monty’s eyes for what he’s trying to do, but eventually he just nods and follows him to the greenhouse.

There’s only an older woman inside, who he knows as Lacy, since Bellamy is always in the greenhouse (and consequently, helping her). Monty pulls him over to one of the corners, and pretends to do something by pressing the dirt in the pots down to make it firmer. Miller mimics him, just in case.

“You didn’t tell,” Monty whispers at last. He doesn’t look at Miller when he says it. “I thought you . . .”

Miller looks down at his plant, packing the dirt down a little more forcefully than is probably necessary. “No, I didn’t.”

“I—” Monty looks at Miller then, and his throat works. “Thank you,” he whispers. “With your father being Chief Guard and everything, I was worried you would tell. . . I know you’re a good person, but you’re so loyal that—” Monty stops and presses his lips together. “Thank you,” he says again.

“Why?” Miller says, forgetting the pot on the table. “You’re supposedly an engineering genius, you have your whole life ahead of you, and you’re throwing it away by making contraband alcohol and stealing for who knows how long. What’s the point?”

Monty shakes his head. “You think an engineering career is more important to me than making sure my people don’t starve?”

They stare at each other, and Miller can feel something furious, angry and raging, rise up in him, so he looks away, clenching his jaw.

“I won’t tell,” Miller says.

Monty lets out a small exhale. He says, “How did you know I make alcohol?”

Miller frowns, and he almost rolls his eyes. Of all things of importance in this conversation, Monty picks up on that. “Raven mentioned it to me,” he says. “We shared some the other day.” Miller pauses. “Are you just good at everything?”

“Mostly everything,” Monty says with a smile, “but especially farming, engineering, alcohol fermentation, and most tech.”

“You’re asking to get in trouble,” Miller says, and he’s almost horrified to find that he’s smiling.

Monty shrugs, but he’s smiling too. “Almost always.”

Miller’s trying to form a response that isn’t basically flirting, but Lacy calls over to them. “Monty, darling,” she says, “can you come over here? I think we’ve got some more ROUS’s over here.”

Miller frowns. “What’s an ROUS?”

“Rodent of Unusual Size,” Monty says. “They don’t actually exist, but Lacy is old and we like to please her. I should probably go help her.”

Miller nods and straightens. “Get over there, Farm Boy,” he says. “Stop distracting me.”

Monty rolls his eyes, but he says, “As you wish.”

--

Bellamy knocks on his door around eleven at night, and Miller comes out immediately, nodding his head at Bellamy before they set off. Some part of him is dreading this, but a larger part of him is thrilled, the thieving part of him that never really left. They’re not going to steal anything, but even the thought of breaking in somewhere has adrenaline rushing through him.

As they walk through the halls, Bellamy says, “Are you sure he’s covering for us?”

“Positive,” Miller says. Bellamy’s talking about Monty. Miller asked Monty earlier in the week if he would be willing to delete any footage of Miller and Bellamy from that night.

“You’re breaking into the law room,” Monty repeated, giving Miller a look that clearly said why?

“You said you were good with tech,” Miller says, ignoring the underlying question. “Are you that good?”

“Yes.”

Miller felt relief rush through him. “Would you do it?”

Monty searched Miller’s face before saying, “As you wish.” And that had been the end of the conversation.

As you wish has become Monty’s catch phrase around Miller, the same way Farm Boy is Miller’s around Monty. By now, Miller has just accepted the phrase, and, he thinks, it’s not nearly as bad as Farm Boy started out as.

But Monty had promised, and Miller believes him. So he tells Bellamy, “He’ll come through,” and then, although he’s not sure why he says it, “I trust him.”

Bellamy nods, letting out a long breath. “Then let’s do this.”

The door has an electronic lock, which Miller had anticipated, so they’re waiting for all of five seconds before the door clicks open.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows in surprise, which for some reason annoys Miller. “I told you he’d come through,” he says, and enters the room.

The law room is basically the Ark’s judiciary, but it’s also used when new laws are being created or acts are being passed. The Ark constitution is kept in one of the cabinets. Miller grins when he sees a metal lock on the door—this he can easily pick. Bellamy wanders around the room a little.

“This is strange,” he says.

“The cameras?” Miller asks, because that’s new for him. Breaking into people’s apartments is easy, because there are no cameras in there. Breaking into the law room would have been unspeakable, and knowing that they’re doing it but the footage will be erased is electrifying.

“Knowing that in less than a month, I’ll be in here,” he says. “Trying to fight for Octavia’s life.”

Miller says, “You’ll be fine,” as he gets out his lock picks. The lock is medium sized, obviously made of iron, and polished from being touched so many times. It doesn’t even take him thirty seconds to open it. “Alright, I got it.”

Bellamy comes over and takes the book from Miller’s hands, quickly flipping over to the act on childbearing. Bellamy must have gotten knowledge of which act it was beforehand, because he flips straight to the article.

He points his fingers to the words as he reads, and then says, “Here,” with a sort of breathlessness that gives Miller hope. Miller shoves Bellamy over so he can read as well, and Bellamy reads it out loud as if trying to make sure it’s real. “Article two: ‘The policy proclaims that each couple may only have one child, and in special cases of divorce, each parent may only have one child.’”

Miller rereads it, then says, “That doesn’t sound good, Bellamy.”

“No,” he says. “I can work with it. Each parent may only have one child,” Bellamy repeats. “Octavia is her father’s only child.”

Miller finally catches onto what Bellamy’s proposing. “And therefore she doesn’t break the one-child policy,” he says. “That could actually work, Bellamy.”

Bellamy grins, one of the largest Miller has ever seen, and Bellamy pulls him into a rough and quick hug.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Miller nods. For a moment, though, he pauses and looks at the Ark’s constitution. It’s right here, and he may never have another chance like this to look at the laws on same-sex couples, on discrimination, if their spiel of “sexuality doesn’t matter” is actually true or just bullshit, but Bellamy’s already closing the book and hurrying Miller along, so he forces it away from his mind.

They leave the room the same way it looked when they entered, and Bellamy says, as the door locks behind them, “I hope Monty can get back to his place without getting caught.”

“He’s resourceful,” Miller says, and leaves it at that.

Miller makes it home safely.

--

Miller’s next assignment, surprisingly, comes from Mecha. He’s patrolled Mecha before, back when he was still training for the guards, and it’s how he and Bellamy met Raven. It’s how the meetings started in the first place. Bellamy had introduced Octavia to Miller half a year after he and Bellamy became friends, and once they’d created a strong friendship with Raven, Bellamy said, “I think we should introduce Raven to Octavia.”

Miller knew Bellamy was only saying it as a warning to Miller, and not as an invitation for any advice. It was Bellamy’s decision in the end, so Miller just said, “Alright.”

The first time Raven came, she just talked to Octavia the entire time, explaining more about the Ark, about machines, about space. She knew far more than either Bellamy or Miller had, and Octavia had soaked in the information hungrily.

The second time Raven came, she started complaining about how fucked up the Ark was, the Octavia was a criminal for being born. That she would be blamed, and floated, all because her parents made a wrong decision.

“Ark law is absolute,” Bellamy said bitterly. Octavia hadn’t said anything—the fury and defeat in her eyes said enough.

“Surely they could make an exception,” Raven said, but Bellamy only shook his head.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he said. “I’d never risk Octavia like that.”

“It’s bullshit,” Miller said. “You’re telling me there isn’t one same-sex couple on this fucking metal prison that could adopt her? That would still fit the one-child policy.” Then he laughs. “Never mind. Good luck finding one, even in their supposed ‘nondiscrimination policy.’”

And his words had opened up a black hole of problems with the Ark, ways they would fix it if they could, and soon it became a regular occurrence.

Miller patrols the area where Raven works, so that he’s able to talk to her. He tells her about the recent developments with Bellamy’s case, and everything from the night they broke into the law room. She listens intently, and then says, “Fuck, this sounds good. I think Bell can do it.”

“Me too,” Miller replies. The atmosphere, he’s already noticed, is completely different from that of Farm Station. The head guards here don’t care if they talk to the mechanics, and the atmosphere is loud, friendly, and a little wild.

“You said Monty was in on it?” Raven says. Miller nods. “We should invite him to the next meeting, the way we invited Clarke and Wells.” Clarke and Wells had been invited because Raven overheard Clarke complaining about the policies on same-sex couples, and Wells had come along because he and Clarke were inseparable.

“You think so?” Miller asks.

Raven nods, glances around, and says, quieter, “He doesn’t tell me, but I know there’s some shady stuff going on in Farm Station. He could help us—he already has with you and Bell.”

Miller’s stomach crawls, and he doesn’t know how to tell her that he already knows about the shady shit in Farm Station, that he caught Monty and let him go. Instead he just nods in agreement.

“We can go ask him now,” Raven says, pointing to another work area. Shock fills Miller’s chest when he sees Monty, bent over a table with wire parts all around him.

Monty looks up when they approach him, and he breaks into a large smile. Miller needs to look away, so he pretends to survey the area around him. Monty asks them what’s going on, and Miller doesn’t really hear Raven’s reply.

He forces himself to focus again, and when he does, Monty’s eyes are on him. Miller’s stomach jumps. Miller must have missed the entire conversation, because Monty says cautiously, “Sure, I’ll join. As long as there’s no funny business.”

“None at all,” Raven promises. “Just know that we’ll have to slide it past Bellamy first, and if he doesn’t approve . . . you’ll have to act like we never approached you about the matter at all.” Monty raises an eyebrow at her. “Yes, it’s that important,” she says. She ruffles Monty’s hair and exclaims, “Now get back to work, kid!”

Monty rolls his eyes, smiling for a moment. Then he locks eyes with Miller, and his expression turns more serious. “You didn’t tell her either,” he says.

Miller can feel his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “No,” he says. “Why would I?”

Monty waves his hand in Raven’s direction. “Well, if you’re having all these anarchist meetings, I thought you might’ve.”

Miller rolls his eyes at that, but he’s serious when he says, “No. I promised you.” Monty glances away at that, his fingers fiddling with a piece of wire. “And you helped Bellamy and I with the cameras.”

The corner of Monty’s mouth curves. “Well, I promised you.” Miller doesn’t know what to say to that, but he can feel his heart pounding. “What are you doing here anyways?” Monty asks.

“I got assigned here. You?”

“It’s my day off,” Monty says. “I have to spend it here, otherwise I don’t get any experience.” Everyone on the Ark has a day off every week, shifting on the day of the week that it’s on, so that they have a day to rest.

“It must be a lot of work,” Miller says, looking to where Monty’s working with the wires and his tools.

“They leave a pile for me,” Monty says with a smile. “Shit they can’t figure out. It would be bigger, but Raven usually gets most of the pile for me. She saves my ass.”

“And here I thought you were an engineering genius,” Miller says.

“I am.”

“It seems like Raven is doing all the work.”

Monty rolls his eyes. “Ask me for something. I can build anything for you.”

For a moment, Miller doesn’t speak—he has to get around the phrasing of Monty’s words, for you. Finally he says, “A book light, I suppose. So I can read without having to have all my room lights on.”

His words are met with a raised eyebrow and a gasp. “You can read?”

“Oh, so a simple farm boy can be an engineering protégé, but a guard can’t like to read?”

Monty laughs. “I just didn’t expect it from you, I guess.”

No one does, Miller thinks. “Can you do it or not?”

A small smile touches Monty’s mouth. “As you wish.”

--

Miller patrols Mecha a week later, and Raven gives him a small metal square.

“This is from Monty,” she says, and as she leaves, he sees the small smirk on her face.

The metal square has a clasp, so he opens it up. It unfolds elegantly into a small reading light, the inside some strange metal chain that snaps into place, stiff and straight, when Miller lifts it up. Underneath the lid of the metal box is a small light, and the bottom of the lid turns out to be a clip, so that he can attach it to the book. There’s a small button on the top that makes the light turn on. Miller has to merely push down on the lid, and it all folds in on itself until it’s back to a metal square.

Miller didn’t doubt that Monty could build something like this, but he’s still—quite frankly—amazed.

He uses it that night, turns off all the lights, takes out Treasure Island, and clips the light to the cover of the book. It unfolds, and it’s at the perfect angle to put light on the book. Miller manages to read about three chapters before he closes the book and just stares at the light, trying to sort through all the thoughts clamoring in his mind.

He runs his thumb over the title of the book many, many times. He wants to thank Monty in some way, but there isn’t a way, it seems, that would match up to the light. Not that the light has any significant meaning, or hidden message inscribed, but it feels significant. Miller needs to say thank you, in a way that isn’t totally underwhelming.

He unclasps the light from the book, putting the light on the side table, and holds the book in his hands for a moment. He knows what he’s going to do.

The next day he has an afternoon shift at Farm Station, so he knows that he’ll see Monty there. Since Bellamy is assigned at Mecha this time, Miller volunteers to watch over the greenhouse in his place. It’s not nearly as much work as watching the farmlands—all he really has to do is help Lacy move things around that are too heavy for her—but sometimes he wonders if that’s also what the farmhands want the guards to think, so that they can get away with more. He shakes himself. None of that matters unless he’s willing to do something about it, and since he isn’t willing, he forces it from his mind.

It takes some time for Monty to move close enough for Miller to approach him, but of course, when he does, another guard is nearby.

Miller clears his throat and says, loud enough for the other guard to hear, “Lacy is having trouble with the ROUS’s again. I need you to come with me.”

Monty’s eyes flick to the other guard once, and he says, “Ah, of course.”

Monty enters the greenhouse, and before Miller can, the other guard says, “ROUS?”

“Rodents of Unusual Size,” Miller clarifies, and the guy winces and walks in the other direction. Miller almost smiles.

Monty is waiting for Miller in the same corner they’d been in when they last spoke in here. When Miller approaches him, he says, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Miller tells him. “I just wanted to thank you for the light. It was amazing.”

Monty smiles. “You questioned my talents.”

“Still.” Miller suddenly feels ridiculous. “I—here.” He pulls Treasure Island out from behind his armor and hands it to Monty, hyper aware of every ridiculous thing possible—the way Monty’s paler fingers look holding the cover, Lacy humming in the far corner, the smell of herbs around them.

Monty takes the book carefully, like Miller gave him a delicate vase instead. “I’m—not much of a reader,” Monty says quietly.

“I thought you were good at everything,” Miller says.

“Mostly everything,” Monty corrects, but he folds his hands over the book and thumbs through it. His mouth gapes open a little and he says, “Miller, I can’t take this.”

Miller knows what he’s seeing: the wrinkling binding, worn and torn from years of use, the notes he’d written into the pages, the obvious love in the book. “I’m not giving it to you to keep,” Miller says, his voice quiet. “I’m letting you borrow it.”

“Miller, I can’t—”

“Just take it,” Miller says. “It’s a thank you. You don’t have a choice.” He pauses. “But you have to read it as well.”

Monty stares at the cover a little longer. Then he puts the book in the bag slung over his shoulder, hidden among the vegetables he’s put in there. “As you wish,” he says, and they both startle when Lacy starts shouting.

“I swear I saw one! It was right there!” she exclaims.

Monty says patiently, “Where did it go, Lacy?”

She scowls at him, somewhat fiercely for a seventy-year-old lady. “Where? Where they always go! In the fire swamps, of course!”

Monty meets Miller’s eyes, and the faintest smile touches his lips. “Of course,” Monty says. “Officer Miller can help you with that.” His smile broadens at Miller’s glare, but Miller obligingly walks over to her to calm her down.

When he checks over his shoulder, Monty is gone.

--

Bellamy finds Miller at their lunch break, rushing down next to him and pressing close. Miller almost shoves him off—not only is Bellamy sitting too close, he’s stealing Miller’s carrots—but the closeness and food stealing is the perfect guise for Bellamy to whisper, “A week from now.”

“What?”

“The court trial for Octavia. It’s in one week.”

Now Bellamy moves away from him, just enough so that there’s an inch of space between them. Miller can feel his mouth gape open, and he quickly shuts it. “You’re serious?”

Bellamy nods. “I got the notice during my rounds this morning in Alpha Station. One week from today, one in the afternoon.” Bellamy pauses. “Can you be there?”

Miller does a quick mental count of his workload. “I have nightshift at Mecha that day, so I can make it.”

Bellamy smiles, full of relief. “Thank God. I didn’t know if I could do it without you there.”

Miller feels his throat choke up with emotion. He grabs Bellamy’s arm and grips it tight. “You’ve got this,” he says, putting as much force and reassurance in his voice as he can. “This is for Octavia, and the case will be in your favor. We have everything we need.” He shakes Bellamy’s arm, with a little more vigor than is probably necessary. “You and O are going to be fine.”

Bellamy nods his head, but he still looks a little nervous. He says, “Her life—and mine, probably—depends on this case.”

“I know. You’re going to see this through, Bellamy, you always do.”

Bellamy clasps Miller’s hand with his own, taking a deep breath. “We’ll win,” he says.

By the time the court case arrives, Bellamy’s nerves appear to be gone. He doesn’t look confident or arrogant, but his expression is patient. There is a surprising amount of people in the courtroom, all things considering, but there aren’t that many court cases on the Ark, so people come and watch as though it were a movie. Miller sits next to two older women that he recognizes from his time in Mecha Station, and when he sees Raven walk in, he relaxes.

“How is everything going?” she asks, stopping by him.

“He’s fine, or he’s good at looking it,” Miller says. “So far, the judges include Jaha, Jake Griffin, and Marlene Peterson.” Usually five trusted members of the Ark, which could consist of the Chancellor, some of the Council members, or representatives of each station, fill in as judges for court cases.

Raven lets out a long breath. “Jaha was expected—we haven’t had a court case in such a long time, it figures he’d be here. Griffin is good; he’s usually sympathetic to the people. I don’t know Peterson that well, but she doesn’t seem too harsh. Oh, someone else is—” She cuts off, then hisses, “Miller.”

Miller turns his head and notices his father coming out and taking a seat next to Peterson. “He’s a judge,” Miller says numbly.

“It makes sense,” Raven whispers. “Bellamy’s a guard, it figures they’d have the head of the guards here.” Miller can’t tear his eyes away from his father, trying to decide if he’ll be the man they’ll expect him to be, the lawful Chief Guard, or if he’ll the man who let his son live. “Miller,” Raven says.

He tears his eyes away from his father. “I’m sorry,” he says. “How’s O?”

“She’s a little nervous, but she’s ready to fight,” Raven says with a small smile. “I’m going to bring her in when the proceedings start. She’ll make quite the entrance.”

Miller nods his head, eyes catching on his father again, and then movement at the door catches them. It’s Monty, and he smiles at Raven and Miller before sitting next to someone at Farm Station. A woman sits next to him, who is obviously his mother, and Monty turns his attention to her.

“What’s he doing here?” Miller asks.

“I told him to come if he could,” Raven whispers. She’s frowning a little. “Do you want him to leave? I thought you and him—”

“He’s fine,” Miller says before she can finish the thought. “Get back to Octavia.” Raven squeezes his shoulder, and before she leaves, she does the same to Bellamy, whispering something in his ear that makes him smile slightly.

The case is called into session ten minutes later, when another woman Miller doesn’t recognize joins the group of judges. Jaha bangs the gavel, waits for the room to quiet, and then speaks. “This session is in order,” he begins. “The case brought forward by the plaintiff, Bellamy Blake, with concerns on the one-child policy.” Jaha nods at Bellamy, who stands when he’s recognized. “You may begin your case.”

Bellamy nods slightly, almost to himself, and says, “I’m here to position for full citizenship for my sister, Octavia Blake.”

The reaction is immediate and dramatic—there are gasps among the people watching, and whispers spark up as soon as the word sister is said. The judges look at each other, surprised; Miller doesn’t think he imagines his father looking at him.

Jaha bangs the gavel until the room quiets. Then he says, “Mr. Blake, this is a serious offense you’ve brought forward. There is no record of you ever having a sister, and to keep her hidden would be a crime of a most punishable sort.”

“There is no record because we knew what would happen if we brought her forward,” Bellamy says, keeping his chin high. His voice doesn’t waver, and he speaks calmly. “She is to turn eighteen in two weeks, and I submit to the court, and the people of the Ark, that she is not to blame for her birth and deserves full citizenship.”

Talk breaks out as soon as he says eighteen, which Miller can understand. They are shocked that a person could be kept hidden on the Ark for such an amount of time without anyone else’s knowledge.

“Mr. Blake,” Jaha says, “this is no laughing matter, and I refuse to preside over this case.”

Bellamy says fiercely, “She’s real, I assure—”

At that moment, the back doors push forward, and Raven enters with Octavia behind her. The second Octavia walks in, everyone is peering at her, and whispers break out again, fiercer than ever, and the eyes of the judges have turned so large they are the size of the moon. Raven sits down next to Miller, and she and him exchange a nervous glance.

The whispers die down on themselves by the time Octavia reaches Bellamy, and everyone is staring. The only words said are by Jaha, who whispers, “Inconceivable!”

“Actually, sir, conception is exactly what happened,” Octavia says, wry as anything, and the crowd watching gives a small titter.

Bellamy takes over again. “I plead to these courts that my sister get full citizenship on this Ark,” he says. “The one-child policy clearly states that ‘each couple may have one child, and in special cases of divorce, each parent may only have one child.’ My mother had two children, yes, and she has already paid the price. But my mother and Octavia’s father were never married, and thus I submit to the court that Octavia be given citizenship as her father’s only child.”

Peterson leans forward. “The law clearly states—”

“I just read you the law, word for word,” Bellamy interrupts fiercely. “Act three of the Ark constitution, article two.”

The other woman says, “How did you acquire a word by word account of the law?” Bellamy visibly hesitates, and she says, with some surprise, “You broke into this room to get that information, didn’t you?”

Bellamy shakes his head, but the judges are already whispering to each other. Miller can’t take his eyes off of his father. “Say what you want,” Bellamy says, “but I got the information elsewhere.”

Peterson is already calling someone forward, a tech guy, who is asked to search through the camera footage for Bellamy’s break-in. Bellamy doesn’t look at Miller, but Miller can see the slight jerk of his body in Miller’s direction. Miller turns around and looks at Monty, and Monty’s staring at him. Monty shakes his head so slightly that Miller almost can’t catch it.

After a good five minutes in which the tech just runs the footage, someone stands in the back and says, “If I may speak before the court.” Miller recognizes Monty’s voice, and everyone turns to stare at him. He’s standing, seemingly unaffected by everyone’s eyes.

Jaha gestures with his hand. “You may.”

“It may be easier if we just ran a facial recognition on the camera footage, using Bellamy’s I.D. photo for reference,” Monty says. “To, uh, save time, sir.”

Jaha nods at the tech to do exactly that. He pulls up Bellamy’s photo and runs a quick scan. It takes almost a minute, and then red words appear on the screen: No Facial Match. The room takes a collective breath. Miller holds Monty’s gaze as he sits down, almost unable to look away.

“The Ark’s constitution shouldn’t even be kept away from the public,” Bellamy says icily, “but that’s not relevant to the case. The law clearly states that in cases of divorce, each parent may have one child. Octavia’s parents were separated. She has the same rights as us all, as her father’s only child, to be a citizen of the Ark. She cannot be to blame for her parent’s actions.” Bellamy looks at each judge, says, “I leave my case in the hands of the court,” and sits back down in his chair, Octavia by his side.

The judges look at each other. Jaha finally says, “The case will be taken into consideration, and the verdict shall be announced in the following days. Does anyone else have anything to say?” The last words are required, so that anyone who has a voice in the crowd may be allowed to speak. Bellamy stands again. “Yes, Mr. Blake?” Jaha asks.

“I ask that my sister is granted immunity in the days between now and the verdict,” Bellamy says. “She is not to be arrested or punished in any way.”

Jaha allows it. His pounds the gavel again, and the courtroom breaks, into standing or speaking. Bellamy hugs Octavia tight to him, and Raven whispers to Miller, “That went well, I think.”

“For what’s at stake? It went very well,” Miller replies. They stand and walk over to congratulate the Blakes. Miller hugs Bellamy first, whispering in his ear that he’s proud of him, and Bellamy lets out a shaky breath. When Miller hugs Octavia, he kisses her head and tells her that she’s brave. She nods her head against his shoulder.

As they talk amongst each other, Miller sees his father come down from the panel, walking in their direction. Miller inclines his head towards his father, and the others wish him luck.

His father regards him for a moment. “I imagine that you already knew about Bellamy’s younger sister.”

Miller says, “I wouldn’t want to influence your decision, sir. Create a bias.” It’s the perfect response, as it answers his dad’s question but allows him deniability.

His father nods his head at Miller’s response. “You should go with your friends, son.”

His father pulls him into a quick hug before he goes, and Miller returns it, if a little awkwardly.

When he gets back to the group, Bellamy says, “Meeting at my place?” Miller agrees. Raven loops her arm with Octavia and leads her out. As Miller and Bellamy make their way out, Miller catches sight of Monty.

“He should come,” Miller says, inclining his head towards Monty. He expects some type of fight from Bellamy, but he agrees easily. Miller catches Monty’s eyes and invites him over with a tip of his head.

“We’re going to Bellamy’s now,” he tells Monty. “You should come with us.”

Monty’s eyes flick to Bellamy, who’s standing in the doorway, waiting for them. “Another anarchy meeting?” he asks.

Miller shoves his shoulder lightly. “Technically yes,” Miller says. “You’ve been approved, so you should come.”

Monty considers it for a moment, then says, “I’ll have to tell my mother where I’m going,” and, when Miller’s mouth twitches, “Don’t laugh at that, you asshole.”

Monty ends up joining them, and Bellamy thanks him for his help in the case. Monty shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a bit of color in his cheeks.

“It would’ve taken him forever to go through it,” Monty says. “And I knew the footage wouldn’t be found, so it was safe to run a facial recognition check.”

“It was brilliant,” Bellamy says, and Monty smiles.

Raven and Octavia are already celebrating in the room, two bottles sitting between them. Bellamy glares at them, but Miller laughs. Raven smiles when she sees Monty and gives him a hug.

“We can thank him for the drinks tonight,” she exclaims, her arm still around his shoulders. “My favorite protégé.”

“I’m your only protégé,” Monty says drily.

“Still. You keep me sane when I have to deal with those old dingbats in Mecha.” She takes the bottles and pours a drink for everyone. “To the Blakes,” she says, raising her glass high.

They all echo her and drain their glasses. Monty grimaces and says, “That probably wasn’t my best brew, honestly,” but everyone makes claims to reassure him. After that, they’re in high spirits. Raven and Monty can’t stop laughing over Octavia’s “Actually, sir, conception is exactly what happened” comment, and it gets funnier the longer they talk about it. Bellamy says, “I swear, when they pulled the footage and Monty spoke, I’m pretty sure I was about to shit my pants I was so nervous.”

They do about ten more toasts, all more ridiculous than the one before it: “To the judges having brains!” “To Jaha’s gavel!” “To conception and pregnancy!” “To Monty’s moonshine!”

Monty introduces to them some drinking games that he beats them all at, and then they pry the funniest stories out of each other, from Lacy’s antics to the people in Mecha to shit Bellamy and Miller have seen while on watch. It’s light and carefree, and after the third or fourth drink, Monty pretty much leans on Miller the rest of the time.

Around three or four, there’s a knocking on the door. Bellamy goes to answer it, and Wells and Clarke walk in. Monty attempts to straighten a little, but Raven punches him in the shoulder and says, “They’re not royalty, Monty.”

“They’re with us?” he asks, and Miller likes that Monty said us. Likes that Monty’s included in the us.

“They are,” Raven confirms, and Monty relaxes, back into Miller’s side.

Clarke and Wells accept the drinks easily, and they enfold themselves into the circle. They would’ve come sooner, they say, but they were trying to eavesdrop on their parents’ feelings on the case.

“Did you hear anything?” Octavia asks.

Clarke nods. “They’re in favor of Octavia’s citizenship, as far as I can tell. Bellamy spoke rationally about that, no matter how he got ahold of the information. Their only arguments against it are that she’s been eating other people’s rations, and she doesn’t have a career path.”

“She ate out of my rations,” Bellamy says. “And how could she have a career path if she had to be kept hidden because of their stupid law?”

“I know,” Clarke says placatingly. “That’s why I said it’s going favorably for you, Bellamy. They don’t have any real arguments against her citizenship.”

“But?” Octavia says, because Clarke’s tone has a but in it.

“But they don’t know what to do about Bellamy,” Wells finishes. “He kept Octavia hidden for eighteen years, when he should’ve come forward. They’re trying to figure out what should happen with him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Raven says. “What did they want him to do? Turn her in at three-years-old?”

Wells and Clarke’s faces say that’s exactly what the judges wanted Bellamy to do.

“She would’ve been locked up in the skyboxes,” Bellamy says angrily. “They would’ve floated her at eighteen, but with this she might have a chance. If I’d done what they wanted, she wouldn’t have had a life, she only would’ve known herself as a prisoner.” He glances at her. “Not that living in this room wasn’t a prison, but at least she had me. She met you guys, she got to learn and grow. She had some type of life.”

“Best case scenario, they reach that level of understanding and they let you off easily. Worst case scenario . . . they float you,” Wells says.

“Float him?” Octavia exclaims, almost screeching.

Wells’s face is apologetic. “He broke the law, Octavia, for eighteen years.”

“Ark law is absolute,” Bellamy says, as bitterly as he always says it, but this time he sounds exhausted. The old catch phrase to explain the harsh laws of the Ark seems suffocating now.

“It went well,” Raven says firmly. “It was said well, it was received well, and the verdict is going to be a positive one.” Everyone quickly chimes in their agreement, and Raven says, “Monty, teach Clarke that game you just showed us,” and the party games come back, lightening the mood.

Soon afterwards, they decide to head back to their individual homes. When Monty stands, he sways for a moment, holding himself upright by clutching at Miller’s shoulder. Miller turns to him and says, voice low and amused, “Will you be able to get home safely, Farm Boy?”

Monty snorts. “I bet I have better tolerance than you do.”

Miller smiles. “Good at everything.”

“And alcohol was one of my specialties.”

“Alcohol making.”

Monty’s grin broadens. “Well, you can’t tell if it’s good unless you try it.”

Clarke and Wells have left, and Raven is making her goodbyes; it takes Miller a moment to realize that they should be going, too. He pulls himself from Monty and goes over to Bellamy and Octavia. He congratulates them again, hugs them as he says his goodbyes, and leaves, his left side warmer from where Monty was leaning on him.

--

“Something’s different about today,” Bellamy says as he and Miller make their usual walk down Farm Station.

“You mean, besides everyone staring at you and whispering?” Miller asks dryly.

Bellamy gives him a playful shove. “Shut up. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Your case is what most people are talking about,” Miller says.

Bellamy puts his hands on the edges of his armor, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, it’s not like I’m some weird messiah or anything.”

“Debatable,” Miller says. “You’re challenging the Ark’s laws, Bellamy, and most people believe that you’re going to win. That’s fucking huge. You’re basically starting a revolution, man.”

Bellamy groans. “Great. This is exactly what I needed.”

Miller clasps Bellamy’s shoulder. “This is good. The judges will know that you have the people’s support. If the verdict goes well, the people will be happy, and it may encourage them to change some things around here. If the verdict goes badly, the people will be upset, and it might influence the verdict. It’s good that we have their support.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, asshole, so the next time someone stares at you, smile that them.”

Monty finds Miller later in the day, smiling warmly at Miller as he walks up to him.

“There’s such a good atmosphere,” Monty whispers to him as they walk on the stone steps in the farmlands. “Everyone is buzzing with Bellamy’s court case. You guys are really changing people’s minds, really getting them to think. I’ve never seen them this excited about a verdict before.”

“You were involved as well,” Miller says, glad that his dark skin probably (hopefully) doesn’t show his flush so much. “If you hadn’t been there for the cameras . . .”

Monty shakes his head. “It was nothing, just a simple promise. I didn’t even know what I was doing it for; I was just doing it for you. You and Bellamy and Raven have been planning this from the start. That’s you guys, not me.”

“Still,” Miller presses, and he’s not sure why he does press, other than the fierce feeling inside him that says he needs Monty to know this. “You have to give yourself credit. You’re doing some of the same stuff, just not so publicly, as well as helping us. It’s a lot, with all you have to lose. Thank you.”

Monty’s cheeks have gone slightly pink, but he says in a humble voice, “You’re welcome. And thank you for the hope these people have now.”

“Well, Bellamy and I won’t be getting into much trouble after this,” he says. “Octavia’s the most he ever had.”

Monty smiles. “I’ll be troublemaker enough for both of us.”

Miller pauses. “How much longer until you’re finished with schooling?”

“About two months.”

Miller doesn’t know why he’s about to ask his question, or if he even has the right to. He and Monty are friends, sure, but—just because Miller has feelings, it doesn’t mean Monty feels the same. “Do you—” he starts out haltingly, trying to push forward, “Could you, just, for these two months, lie low, and not steal—”

“Don’t,” Monty interrupts, his eyes and voice hard. “Don’t ask me to do that, because you know I can’t promise you that. You know I can’t. I don’t care if I get sent to the skybox—I won’t abandon these people.”

“No ‘as you wish’ this time, huh?” Miller asks, and it doesn’t fall flat, exactly, but it tinges with something like sorrow.

Monty’s smile is small and sad. “Anything but that, Miller.”

“Alright,” Miller says softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He and Monty stare at each other. Monty takes a step forward so that he and Miller are close, far too close, and whispers, “Miller—”

A voice interrupts him, calling for Monty to come over. Monty closes his eyes, sighing, and then says, “I have to go.”

“It’s alright.”

Monty gives him a brief smile as his goodbye before heading in the direction of the woman who called him over. Before he can get too far, Miller calls out, “Hey, Farm Boy!”

Monty turns, his expression expectant.

Miller chooses his words carefully, thinking back to when he caught Monty that night. “Save an apple for me,” he says.

Monty’s face breaks into a smile, and he says, “As you wish,” just like Miller knew he would.

--

The verdict comes in four days later, and Miller walks with Bellamy to the courtroom. There are more people sitting in the back than there was the previous day, and the number sends a small shock through Miller. This sends a message, he realizes, to the judges sitting there. The people care.

He finds his seat next to Raven again, and Monty is on her other side. They both give him smiles as he sits down, which he returns, but he can’t help the nerves fluttering inside of him. He knows that they’ve all had high expectations, and that this could very well go in the other direction.

It takes Jaha another moment to get everyone under control. He glances at the other judges with him at the panel, nods, and begins speaking.

“In the case of Bellamy Blake vs. Act Three, Article Two of the Ark constitution, the panel rules,” and for a moment, the entire room seems to pause and hold his breath, “in favor of the plaintiff.” There are cheers and loud whoops throughout the room, and Bellamy turns to Octavia in shock. She grabs him and pulls him close, burying her head in his neck. Raven grabs Miller's arm and squeezes it so hard he thinks that the blood circulation will be cut off. Jaha continues, “From here on, Octavia Blake is considered an active and full citizen of the Ark, and will from here on be required of her all the duties that is required of every citizen.”

Raven’s grip loosens, and Miller notices she’s grabbing Monty’s arm as well. A huge breath of relief escapes Miller’s lungs, and he feels a smile coming onto his face.

“In the case of Bellamy Blake, and the punishment he deserves for keeping a sister hidden for so long,” Jaha continues, and the room goes quiet again. Raven’s fingers dig tighter into Miller’s arm before, her nails almost breaking skin. “He will be immediately stripped of all titles, badges, and privileges that come with the honor of a guard. He will never be able to resubmit himself for application in his lifetime. He is thus dishonorably discharged.”

Miller can see the words hit Bellamy hard, and some color drains from his face. Raven lets out a small, sad, “Oh.” Octavia rubs Bellamy’s arm as she speaks to him, and whatever sympathy she offers he brushes away in favor of pulling her into a tight and long hug. The room has erupted into chaos again, excited voices talking of victory.

Jaha says, hardly heard over the noise, “The verdict is set. The case is officially closed.”

Miller gets up with Raven and Monty and walks over to Bellamy and Octavia. They take turns embracing each other, and when Bellamy hugs him, Miller whispers, “This is bullshit.”

“We won,” Bellamy says, pulling away. “This is more than I deserve.”

“It’s just one more injustice,” Miller says, and Bellamy laughs. He puts his hand on Miller’s shoulder.

“This one we can bear,” he says, and moves to embrace Raven.

Miller gives Octavia a quick hug and congratulations. She’s teary-eyed but smiling, and she kisses his cheek like she always does.

Miller sees his father leaving the stand, so he excuses himself and makes his way over. He pulls his dad farther away from the others and says, “Dad, you have to do something. Make them take away Bellamy’s punishment.”

His father sighs and says, “Nathan, I can’t.”

“You have to,” Miller says fiercely. “Bellamy’s a better guard than any other man out there, he’s more honorable, more deserving. He’s wanted to be a guard his entire life. You can’t take that away from him, not when you have pieces of shit out here who don’t uphold the law. Take it from one of those pieces of shit, Dad. Change their minds.”

“Nathan,” his father says, an apology written across his face, “I can’t.”

Miller realizes it then, he sees it in the remorse on David Miller’s face. “You’re the one who told them to do it,” he says, and the accusation in his voice makes his father wince. “Dad, how could you?”

“They were voting on whether to float him, Nate,” his dad says. “Most of them seemed in favor of it. I knew how much this boy meant to you, and I made another suggestion. The boy was no more to blame for his sister being born than his sister is. Could we really fault him for wanting to protect her, knowing what our laws were? I said that if anything, the only law he broke were the vows he made as a guard. He knew when he spoke them that he was breaking them, and it was unbecoming. He didn’t deserve to wear the badge.”

And hearing it from the Chief Guard himself, in such a well-spoken and rational manner, would have made the decision seem the better one.

“It’s unfair,” Miller says, his voice cracking, and his father pulls him into a hug.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” his father says. “But I’d rather have this sorrow than his life.”

Miller takes a moment to compose himself, his face pressed against his father’s shoulder, and then pulls away. He tells his father, “Thank you,” and finds that the sincerity in his voice is real.

His father gives him a tired smile; for the first time, Miller sees wrinkles on his face. “I do still try to protect you, Nate.” Miller nods, his throat thick again. His father seems to take pity on him and says, “Return to your friends. I’m sure there will be a lot of celebrating tonight.”

Miller laughs and tells his father goodbye, heading back over to his group. Bellamy says, “My place?” and Miller nods.

The room has mostly dispersed by now, the people trickling out slowly, and as the group makes their way out—a slow event, since so many people stop to congratulate Octavia and Bellamy—Miller notices that Monty hangs back.

Miller walks up to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

Monty shakes his head. “Not this time, I’m afraid.”

“Monty, we already went over this. You were involved in all of this, okay? You deserve to be here.”

“Maybe I belong with the anarchy group,” Monty says. “But this celebration, right now? It’s for family, Miller. I know I’m not part of that.”

“That’s not true,” Miller says, almost desperately. “I know Raven considers you family, and—and I do, as well—”

“But this is about Bellamy and Octavia,” Monty says. “Miller, it’s fine. I get that I’m welcome, it’s just—I know when to remove myself.”

“Come on,” Miller insists, taking Monty’s hands in his. Monty stares down at them in surprise. “Come on, Monty. We both know how this goes. This is where I tell you what to do, and you say, ‘as you wish.’ I know exactly how you’d say it; I know the tone you’d use and the expression you’d have, I know. Just say it, Monty.”

Monty’s throat works, and he looks away for a moment. When he looks back to Miller, Miller can see that his decision is made, and Miller won’t sway him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Miller steps forward to hug him. This one is different, too, from his hugs with his father and Bellamy and Octavia. Monty clutches tightly at him, and Miller presses his face into Monty’s hair. Miller lets himself revel in the feeling of Monty pressed against him, his breath hot on Miller’s neck, his hands warm against Miller’s back. Miller wonders if anyone here is watching them, thinking either in disgust or wonder or maybe just interest, confusion. Miller takes a deep breath and pulls away.

“Go be with your family,” Monty says.

And Miller says, “As you wish.”

--

Miller gets to his apartment at eleven, and he flops down into his bed, exhausted. It takes him ages just to get his shoes off—the laces are too difficult for him in his fatigue—and he wrestles with his clothes. He stares up at the ceiling when he’s done, then groans when he realizes he forgot to turn off the light.

Muttering curses to the moon and back, Miller turns off the light and drops back down on the bed. His bed has never felt more welcome, he thinks, and turns on his side to fall asleep. When he turns, however, he sees the small book light sitting on his side table, and he groans again.

If he’d spent half the night celebrating with Octavia, Bellamy, and Raven, he’d spent the other half thinking about Monty and wishing he’d come with, despite his insistence not to come. If only they’d included Monty into the fold earlier, Miller thinks. If only I had the words to convince him.

He hadn’t though—or maybe they had been good words, good enough to get Monty to hesitate, but Monty had better words. Words that were more convincing, even to Miller’s own ears, since he agreed. He’d agreed the way Monty usually did: as you wish.

It had been strange to say it, and not hear it, but in a way, it had helped Miller to understand what Monty had really been saying. It wasn’t saying, “I can do this”—yes, I can make a book light, or yes, I can delete the camera footage—but “I’ll do what you ask,” which was a major difference. It wasn’t a proclamation of one’s own skill level, but a way of saying I hear you. I hear what you’re asking me, and I’ll do it for you. I hear you and I understand you. I love you.

Miller feels all the breath leave his body.

No, he thinks to himself. It’s not possible for Monty to have been saying that this entire time, because otherwise—otherwise—

Otherwise Miller had been hearing him this whole time, but not understanding him. It meant that Monty was constantly saying he loved Miller, and Miller had never thought much of it.

That, or Miller is projecting his feelings into this too much.

But, no, it makes sense. It makes perfect sense, Miller realizes with a breathlessness and a spark of something in his chest, something that feels like hope.

He isn’t wrong. Miller knows this, knows this with a certainty that he can just feel in his gut, in his heart. He isn’t wrong. He can’t be wrong.

He needs to see Monty tomorrow, but his day off is tomorrow.

He realizes, with a laugh, that that’s not a problem.

--

Miller enters Farm Station a little after Monty’s shift starts, and it’s easy enough to find him. Monty looks at him in surprise before smiling.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, with a curious look at Miller’s normal civilian clothes.

“What, I can’t spend my day off here?”

“Why would you?”

Be honest, Miller thinks. You’re not wrong. “I wanted to spend it with you,” he says.

Surprise takes over Monty’s face, and if Miller doesn’t know any better, he’d say Monty has a light blush.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend it with Octavia or Bellamy?” Monty says. “You should be celebrating.”

“We celebrated last night,” Miller reminds him. “If you really don’t want me around, I can go.”

“No, of course you can. Um, in the community garden shed, there are tools you can use. You’ll need—”

“I know what to get,” Miller says, and Monty rolls his eyes. Miller grabs everything he’s seen Monty use, gloves and water buckets and small planting tools, and heads back over to Monty. As he passes Harper, she grins and says, “Nice to see you on our side of the plants for once.”

Even though he knew what tools to get, Miller doesn’t really have a clue about planting. Monty is incredibly patient as he teaches Miller, pointing out which tool is used for what and which plants need them.

Miller makes a face as Monty teaches him the correct way to plant seeds. “I didn’t realize plants were so complicated,” he says.

Monty laughs. “Of course they are,” he says amiably. “People get this idea that the people in Farm Station are idiots who play around in dirt all day. And even if they weren’t intelligent, if they only knew how to grow plants—well, they’d be a lot smarter than many on the Ark.”

Miller says, attempting to match Monty’s voice, “They had no idea what corn was.”

Monty starts laughing. “Oh, no, please don’t bring that back.”

Miller’s grin gets more vicious. “Should we really be trusting these people with our guns if they can’t tell the difference between cauliflower and broccoli?”

Monty’s laughing into his hands now, saying, “Oh, God, stop it.”

“For the record, I know the difference between them,” Miller says.

“Just not how to grow them,” Monty says.

“I know the basics. Plant the seeds, give it water, put some sun on it, and bam, you have some food.”

Monty gives him a pitying look. Miller swats him on the arm with a trowel.

While they work around the farmlands, Monty answers all the questions Miller has. Monty tells him about the difference in soils, how some are more fertile than others. He tells him about plant seasons, which Miller frowns at and says, “Shouldn’t it just be summer? Where there’s more sun?” and Monty laughs until he’s crying. Miller learns that no, plants don’t just all like summer—some actually dislike it—and that some don’t even like water all that much. Monty explains to him the difference in nutrients in the soil, how some plants deplete the nutrients in the soil and others replenish it, so that they always have to rotate which plants to grow based on that as well. Monty explains why they’re not allowed to have sprinklers for the farm (it’s a waste of water) and why they use bright, almost florescent lights instead of the sun (they actually harness the sun’s energy and use them on the plants, so it’s almost the same thing) and why they never change the soil (Monty laughs at this, too, and explains that soil doesn’t need to be changed.

“Ever?” Miller asks.

“That’s how they did on earth,” Monty says, amused. “They couldn’t just switch soil when they wanted. They were stuck with the soil of wherever they were, and they made it work.”)

It’s nice to be able to talk to Monty for this long, since he never could as a guard. Monty opens up easily, and Miller realizes that Monty can talk about the most mundane shit for hours, if given the correct topic. Even worse, Miller realizes that not only can he stand it, he likes it. Miller couldn’t listen to the night guards talk for thirty minutes about varying subjects, but Monty will go on for an hour about the pros and cons of every type of berry and Miller is entranced.

Miller is surprised by how quickly Monty’s shift goes, and Monty ropes him into helping him clean up. As they walk around Farm Station, putting tools back into place and putting water buckets back into their large boxes, Miller can’t stop staring at a small spot of dirt on Monty’s neck. It’s obviously from his hand, a quick fingerprint from wiping sweat away or scratching an itch or even just accidentally brushing it, and it distracts Miller to no end.

They go to put the water buckets away in the storage room, into one of the larger boxes. Monty sighs when he sees a bunch of buckets on the top shelf.

“Lacy,” he says. “She always puts them up there when she thinks she sees ROUS’s. Can you get them down for me?”

Miller says, “As you wish,” as he reaches up for them. Lacy’s put three of them up on the shelf, so when has them all, he stacks them together. Monty is rearranging boxes as he looks for the box to put his weeding hoe into, so Miller waits behind him. Monty sighs when he sees the box on a higher shelf, and he actually climbs on the next shelf so he can reach it.

“Is that safe?” Miller asks, looking at the old wood.

“I’ve done this since I was little,” Monty says, placing the hoe inside the box, and immediately after he loses his balance and almost falls backwards. Miller drops the water buckets and catches Monty’s hips, grunting a little when Monty’s full weight hits him. They stumble backwards, but neither of them fall, which is something of a relief to Miller.

Monty turns and says, “Thank you,” and then they both pause when they realize how close together they are. It would be easy, Miller thinks, with Monty’s face close like this, to just lean in and kiss him, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to stay put and says, carefully,

“Last night, I realized what you were saying when you tell me ‘as you wish,’” Miller says, and Monty startles a little, his body shifting so that he’s facing Miller more. Miller forces himself to continue speaking, despite being more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “You’ve been saying you love me, right?”

Monty doesn’t speak, and for a moment, all of Miller’s horrible doubts come creeping back. Then Monty says, “If it were true, then that means you said it back to me, when I asked you to get the buckets.”

Miller says, “Yes, I did,” and Monty takes a shuddering breath, gasps, “Miller, are you saying, Miller—” and Miller says, “I love you too.”

Monty shifts to face Miller, his hands lightly grasping Miller’s forearms, and he says, “I didn’t think you’d ever—”

And Miller says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it took me so long—” and Monty kisses him.

As far as surprise-attack kisses go, it’s a good one. Monty hesitates at first, as though he suddenly lost his nerve once their lips met, but once Miller responds positively—gripping Monty hips, pulling him closer—Monty deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up Miller’s arms. Monty pulls away after a moment, his forehead resting on Miller’s, breathing harder than usual.

“I love you,” Monty says.

“I know.”

“No, I mean—I’m not hiding behind those words, I want to say it directly—”

“I know,” Miller repeats, but Monty is still babbling, so Miller says, “Farm Boy, be quiet,” and Monty glares at him. Miller laughs and kisses him again. He delights in the way Monty melts against him, and between kisses, Monty says, “If you call me that again, I swear to fucking God—”

It turns out Monty’s not shy about anything, and he grabs Miller by his hoodie and pulls him farther into the shed, into a corner where the shelf is high enough for Monty to sit on and wrap his legs around Miller’s waist. Monty tugs at Miller’s hoodie and says, “Such an easy maneuvering technique.” Miller would argue except he’s right, and Monty uses the hood to pull Miller’s mouth down to meet his. Monty isn’t afraid to take Miller’s bottom lip into his mouth (or bite it, Miller finds out), and Miller slides his hands into Monty’s hair, tips his head back to deepen the kiss. Monty gives a weak moan, and Miller’s pretty sure his knees almost give out.

Eventually Monty pulls away and says, “I really have to go, I have schoolwork, and my parents—”

“Then go,” Miller says, and immediately undermines the words by drawing Monty into a long kiss that has them both shaking. Monty pulls back and is smart enough to push Miller away, so Miller leans against one of the shelves and catches his breath. Monty straightens out his clothes and attempts to get his hair back in order, and Miller grins at the knowledge that he’s the one who did that to him.

He walks with Monty to the door of the storage room, and before Monty leaves, he plants a small kiss to Miller’s lips. Miller catches his hands and says, “Meet me tonight.”

Monty grins, his eyes twinkling. “By the apple grove, like old times?”

Miller shakes his head. “My apartment. You could—stay the night, if you wished.”

Monty’s stares at him in wonder, and then says breathlessly, “If I can get away, I will.”

Miller can feel the smile spilling out on his face; he cannot remember ever being this happy. “Good,” he whispers, and Monty allows him a brief amount of time to kiss him, again and again.

He walks home in somewhat of a daze, so lost in the memory of kissing Monty that he is shocked to find himself at his apartment door. He pushes in and lays down on the bed, lightly touching his fingertips to his mouth.

His clock tells him that it’s four, and he already knows it will be the longest hours of his life, waiting for Monty to come—and if he can’t, it will the worst night of his life.

--

Miller wakes up in the morning, and his right arm is sore and aching from where Monty’s head is lying on it, but he doesn’t dare move. Everything is warm and soft, from Miller’s sheets to Monty’s skin pressed against his to Monty’s hair tickling his neck.

He imagines what it might be like to wake up like this every morning, and he aches for it so much it makes his chest hurt. Monty said he had two months until he was done with schooling; it’s on that day that he’ll be able to make his petition, both to his career choice and which Station his dorm would be in. Ark law allows for couples to petition to live together, and the possibility that Monty could petition to live with him, that he might want to—

Miller and Bryan had talked about it, before, but they had both hesitated on the idea. Miller had wanted it, but didn’t know if it would be allowed; Bryan was more worried about the statement it would send. “We both know the ‘nondiscrimination policy’ is bullshit,” he’d whispered to Miller, and he’d agreed—it was something they’d talked about a lot. “My family has never mentioned their opinions on it, but—if they hated me, hated who I was—I couldn’t stand it, you know I couldn’t,” and Miller had known. Bryan was infinitely more loyal than Miller was, but his family was his utmost devotion, and his friends the next. Miller had always known that, so it wasn’t a surprise to hear; and he had been loyal to Bryan, so when Bryan asked to be let go, he had.

It hadn’t ended harshly, in any way—even now, when he and Bryan see each other, they smile warmly at each other. Sometimes, the smiles are tinged with regret, a sort of nostalgia that they may never get over. Miller has always believed that it’s bullshit that you’ll always love your first love, but he will always be grateful for Bryan. Grateful that he turned Miller’s hesitation and doubt with himself to something stronger and self-sure. Something he’s willing to fight for.

Monty shifts slightly, making a soft noise in his sleep, and his nose pushes harder against Miller’s chin. Miller bites his lip to hide his laugh, but the movement his chest makes as he laughs wakes Monty anyways.

Monty groans. “Stop being such a morning person.”

Miller starts laughing harder.

Monty peeks open one eye, squinting at Miller with confusion. When Miller doesn’t stop laughing, he turns over to the other side and mutters something about Miller being insufferable.

Miller laughs again. “You didn’t find me so insufferable last night.”

“Stop talking!”

Miller grins and presses against Monty’s back, sets his teeth to a mark he’d put on Monty’s neck last night. Monty lets out a quiet moan.

Miller lets him be after that, and Monty huffs and says, “Well, now I’m awake,” and turns over to kiss Miller, hard. Miller moans against his mouth and cradles Monty’s face in his hands, slows this kiss down until it’s as warm and soft as waking up had been. Monty’s fingers are light on Miller’s skin, and it makes Miller shiver.

Monty runs his hands over Miller’s shoulders and neck, up the back of his head and down again. It’s tender and soothing, and a great sigh escapes Miller.

“I wish every morning could be like this,” Monty says.

“It could be,” Miller says, moving his mouth closer to Monty’s ear. “You could petition to live with me, if you wished.”

Monty pulls back to look Miller in the eyes; his hands halt their movement. He says, “You’d really want that?”

Miller makes sure to return Monty’s gaze as steadily as possible. “Of course.”

Monty’s hands start moving again, cupping the back of Miller’s head. “And—the Ark would allow that?”

“They’d have to, or their nondiscrimination law is bullshit.”

“It already is.”

Miller grins. “We’ve found the next case to inspire the people, then.”

Monty bites his lip. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to check the constitution.”

Miller raises his eyebrow. “You’d have to do your magic with the cameras again.”

“I’m fine with that. It’s easy—probably scarily so, considering that’s our security network.”

“But good for us.” Miller leans in and kisses him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the delight of being able to kiss Monty, or the equally joyous way Monty immediately kisses back. “Alright, so I’ll break in, and you get the cameras.”

Monty says, “As you wish,” and Miller groans in exasperation. Monty kisses the groan out of him, and after a while, trying to grasp for a clear mind, Miller asks, “When do you have work today?”

“Mmm—it’s not a school day, so probably soon.” He checks over his shoulder at the time. “Oh, about an hour and a half. We have time. You?”

“Late afternoon at Mecha,” Miller replies. “We could go now, if you wished—”

Monty shakes his head. “We have all the time in the world to do that. You’re staying right where you are,” he says, and captures Miller’s mouth in a lush kiss.

--

To Miller’s surprise, and the Ark’s stupidity, they didn’t change the lock on the Ark’s constitution, so it takes him no time at all to break in again. He, unlike Bellamy, doesn’t know where the laws are, so he takes some time to flip through the pages. He skips right past the nondiscrimination policy without a second of hesitation, and finally finds the laws on living situations: Act 10.

Couples may petition to live together at any time they want, except for those who are under eighteen or who have not graduated from schooling.If one of the partners is older than the other, the younger may petition to live with them; all petitions will be considered by the courts.

Miller doesn’t like the “courts” line, but the rest of it is pretty clear-cut, and in gender-neutral language, so he considers it a success. He closes the Ark constitution and puts it back, this time not caring to make anything look exactly the same as he came in; let it be one final act of the Dread Pirate, he thinks.

Monty meets him back at his apartment, holding Treasure Island to his chest. “This is yours,” he says, and Miller takes it back with a smile.

“The cameras?”

“All gone,” Monty says with a smile of his own. “And you?”

“Very successful.” Miller shakes the book in his hand. “Did you like it?”

“It was a wonderful story,” Monty says, “but I think it told me more about you than it did the wonders of storytelling.”

Miller laughs. “You’ll still have to tell me everything you thought about it.”

Monty smiles, something far too coy than Miller can handle, and drags Miller’s mouth down to his. “As you wish,” he says.