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Chapter Text

After their Plan A failed, Bellamy asked Octavia to come back with them, but she slayed him with her steely refrain.

“I won’t be confined again,” she stated, cold and plain.

“But you’ll die out here,” Bellamy replied, his eyes indomitable.

“I’m not afraid.”

Even though he knew it wasn’t true - that the words where just a way to hold it all at bay, he didn’t call her out - he didn’t push.

“Give her time,” Clarke had said.

Well… time was not their friend.

But he kept trying.

He kept letting her know that he needed her to live.

Whenever she wasn’t away on one of her coalition missions, and he happened to see her, he asked again.

And again and again, she defied him.

*

According to Raven’s calculations, the rain was to be upon them in weeks.

They all stood in the hall and took in the report. Mingling afterwards, to try and boost morale.

Clarke stood silently beside Kane and Luna as they discussed the lineage of a particular word in Trigedasleng. Normally she would have participated politely, but her attention was drawn toward a corner of the room where Indra approached her mother with intense purpose.

It was not unusual for Indra to act with deliberation, but as Clarke watched, she spoke discreetly in Abby’s ear, her shoulders and head hunched - guarded.

Something was wrong.

Upon hearing Indra’s words, Abby’s eyes enlarged and shot across the room. Clarke followed her mother’s line of sight and inhaled sharply.

She was staring at Bellamy.

Thankfully, he was too busy swapping retorts with Raven and Roan to notice.

When Clarke looked back at her mother, their eyes locked briefly before Abby broke the connection by turning to Indra and giving her an almost invisible nod. They separated and Indra departed.

Clarke excused herself from the company she was keeping and casually strode over to stop her mother from leaving, seconds later.

She didn’t waste time. Time was too precious.

“What’s going on?” she quizzed Abby quietly.

“Nothing serious,” Abby admitted almost too easily, knowing it was futile to deny the interaction Clarke had clearly seen. “You’re welcome to join me if you like, but I thought you’d rather run the reactor diagnostics with Raven.”

Clarke could tell from her cold, straight face that Abby wasn’t telling her the whole truth. 

She decided not to call her bluff.

Not yet anyway.

“Well, if you can handle it,” she shrugged. “Just keep me posted.”

“Of course,” Abby smiled.

Once her mother was out in the corridor and around the corner, Clarke walked as calmly and inconspicuously as she could to where Bellamy stood, now crowded by the addition of Monty, Harper and Jasper to the fray.

Subtly, she curled her fingers around the inside of his wrist as Raven rambled on about reverse engineering.

Bellamy’s eyes darted down to where Clarke’s hand touched his skin and then tracked steadily up her arm to search her features.

“Follow me,” she mouthed before releasing her grip and walking away from the group.

Behind her, Clarke heard Bellamy clear his throat and his footsteps fall in.

Their friends continued, but not without Roan throwing a smirk in their direction and Raven rolling her eyes.

Out in the hall, away from inquisition, Bellamy took a few quick strides to catch up to Clarke, clutching her elbow gently and pulling her aside.

“Hey,” his eyes implored her as they huddled against the wall, “what’s the rush?”

 “We have to catch up to my Mum,” she replied, eager for him to understand, despite not really knowing what was going on herself.

“Okay,” he swallowed, and they snuck off.

*

Peering through the thick foliage that separated them from the makeshift coalition camp where Indra had brought Abby, Clarke became acutely aware of the proximity of Bellamy’s warm body beside her. She could feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as he squinted through the scope of his gun.

“Why’d you bring me here Clarke?” he asked, not taking his eyes away from the two women walking towards one of the tents.

Honestly, she’d queried herself on that same question the whole way there.

She’d had an inkling her mother’s exchange with Indra was about Octavia, and in her immediate wisdom, decided that Bellamy deserved to know. However, she’d started to think that maybe she should have come alone first, found out what it was all about, and then reported back to him. Tensions between the siblings were tight and it wasn’t that Clarke wanted to hide anything from Bellamy, not when they had just rebuilt their trust in each other, but she didn’t want him getting hurt either.

Lately, whenever Octavia was involved, Bellamy always ended up worse off.

As she started to explain herself, Clarke felt Bellamy’s body stiffen beside her. She looked back to the camp to find her suspicions somewhat confirmed.

Octavia and Nyko were heading for the same tent that Abby and Indra had just entered.

Clarke was too far away to tell for sure, but Octavia looked unsteady, shaken. She stumbled and Nyko supported her, before she shoved him off and tried to straighten up.

Bellamy hissed and dropped the gun from its perch on his shoulder as they disappeared into the tent, his eyes staring at the spot where his sister had last stood.

“Octavia’s sick,” he stated slowly, scrunching his brows as if to figure out how, even though they both knew. It was all around them now. “I have to see her,” he slung the gun onto its strap and stood up, starting to push through the leaves of the trees.

“Wait!” Clarke cried, jagging his jacket in her grip. “Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?”

The last time Bellamy had seen his sister, some three weeks ago, he’d spent the next two days in a haze of self-hatred. It was selfish of her she knew, but Clarke couldn’t bear to see him broken again. Besides, they needed him to be on his A-game. Time was running away.

As quickly as she questioned in her own head whether Octavia was worth it, Clarke knew what his response would be. Wasn’t that why she’d brought him here after all? Apocalypse or not, Bellamy believed Octavia was his number one priority.

“She’s my sister, Clarke,” he croaked. “She might not need me… but… I need her,” he looked away. “I need her to live.”

Clarke knew what he meant, but she didn’t know if she liked it.

She didn’t like the fact that Bellamy thought all he was worth was his sister’s life. She didn’t like the fact that he tied his entire existence to Octavia, even at his own expense.

It was debilitating.

But every time Clarke opened her mouth to tell him how she felt - to tell him that he was so much more than his sister’s keeper - she pictured him as a seven year old boy, swaying baby Octavia to sleep.

The image made her weep.

She wept for a boy who never had a choice - a boy who had turned his less than favourable plight, into something pure and true.

It would be easy to say she didn’t like his dangerously devoted selflessness, but it would be a lie.

For it was one of the many things she loved about him.

*

“What the hell are they doing here?” Octavia grimaced with as much ferocity as she could muster, glaring at Bellamy and Clarke as they emerged through the flap in the tent. “I told you we couldn’t trust her,” she narrowed her glassy gaze at Abby.

“She didn’t know. We followed them,” Clarke said quickly, trying to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Bellamy by losing it at his sister, especially when she was sick.

“Well, you need to leave,” Octavia tried to sit up from the bed Abby had led her to, but the movement made her worse and she suddenly lurched to her side and threw up.

Instinctively, Bellamy lunged for his sister, but Abby got there first, placing one hand on the small of Octavia’s back, and using the other to hold her hair away from her face.  

“Don’t… touch… me…” Octavia groaned but she did little to fend Abby off.

“Octavia, please,” Bellamy pleaded. “You need help.”

“You have no idea what I need,” Octavia’s voice was weak but her words never wavered.

“Come on O, you’re sick. Let us take you back with us.”

As Bellamy and Octavia argued, Clarke felt her mother’s glare and looked up to find her face, trying to make sense of the signals she was sending.

Abby was shaking her head and looking from her to Bellamy and back again.

She wanted Clarke to shut him up.

“Bellamy…” she tried to interrupt, more uncertain than ever of this entire situation.

But there was no stopping Bellamy once he’d started one of his persuasive speeches.

“Tell her Clarke! There’s nothing they can do for her here. At least at Arkadia we have medicine, they can make her comfortable until…”

“I’m not coming back with you!” Octavia snapped, sitting herself up with Abby’s support.

“The radiation will only get worse O...” Bellamy’s voice trailed away and the tent went silent.

“It’s not radiation,” Octavia swore through her clenched her jaw.

“I think we should give them a minute,” Abby answered, shuffling everybody but the two siblings out.

*

When they were a safe distance away from the tent, Abby explained without Clarke having to ask.

“Octavia has severe morning sickness,” she said, with a duck of her head.

Clarke gaped and glanced back at the tent in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she rasped, dropping down beside her mother who sat on a stump by the fire.

Her mind struggled to sift the new information.

“I just found out,” Abby huffed indignantly. “And besides,” she sighed - resigned. “It wasn’t for me to say.”

Clarke closed her eyes in consideration.

Her mother was right.

“How far along is she?”

“Between four and five months, I think.” Abby answered.

They looked at each other then, and wave after wave of thoughts and emotions flooded through Clarke’s head.

Octavia was having a baby?

She couldn’t comprehend.

There was nothing like the promise of new life to incite hope… right?

Then why did she feel like something had broken inside?

Clarke wanted to be happy for Octavia, she did.

But if the domes didn’t work, none of them might come out of this alive, let alone an unborn child.

An onslaught of images from the deaths in Mt Weather overwhelmed her, and Clarke couldn’t stop herself.

“What if I can’t save them?” She cried, silent tears streaming from her eyes.

It was moments like these she felt the world on her shoulders and she was ever so grateful for her mother by her side.

“We will, all of us, together.”

As Abby wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her tight while she sobbed into the night, it dawned on Clarke that Octavia’s mother was dead.

All she had left was her brother.

A brother whose love she had abused - a brother whom she had continually refused, every time he’d begged her to come back with them.

Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Even if they never got to see its face, feel its velvety-soft skin or hear its heart-felt cry - even if they were all to die, she had to believe in this baby.

If nothing else, she had to believe it would bring Bellamy and Octavia together again.

*

Once Abby had finished examining Octavia as best she could and arranged a non-negotiable appointment at Arkadia in two days’ time, the three of them headed back to camp.

Bellamy hadn’t spoken since he exited the tent and stormed off into the bracken, waiting there for them to find him.

It wasn’t until they stopped for a brief break before crossing a creek that he finally broke his silence.

“Thank-you,” he said under his breath to Abby, passing her a flask of water.

She nodded her acknowledgement.

“We’ll make sure to secure her a spot when we start the census,” Abby stated steadfastly, trying to assure him.

“Technically, we need to save her two spots,” Clarke said, flashing him something of a smile. 

He didn’t return the sentiment.

He wasn’t even sure what a smile was anymore.

 “Don’t bother,” Bellamy looked down to the ground, restlessly kicking the dirt, before shoving off again, on their return. “She’s not coming,” he muttered over his shoulder.

“What?” Clarke caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm, gently squeezing his bicep as she searched his eyes for answers. “What do you mean she’s not coming?”

He couldn’t look at her right now, or take pleasure in her touch - it was all too much.

“I’m saying…” he shrugged her arm away, “nothing’s changed. Octavia’s made her choice.”

“Now you’re going to accept that?” Clarke cried, incredulous. “After all the effort you spent trying to convince her otherwise?”

She huffed in horror at his indifferent expression.

“Bellamy! You know this isn’t right. If she stays outside, her and her baby will die.”

He closed his eyes, unable to bear her questioning stare.

“Maybe… but I don’t get to decide.”

He’d tried, but he’d finally lost the will to fight Octavia on this. For months she’d brushed him off and he’d backed away, hoping for the day he’d wear her down.

When she told him that she was pregnant, he thought maybe she’d change her mind.

He was wrong.

 “I can still get you a place inside the dome,” he mentioned in the tent, trying to stay level-headed. “But you have to come back with us now.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Octavia whined.

He knew she was afraid of being locked in again, restrained in the limited space of the arch, but she had to push past that demon.

“It’s not just about you anymore, O. It’s about the life you’re carrying.” He didn’t want to say the words, he’d known how heavy they felt since he was seven years old, but she had a responsibility beyond herself now.

“Even if I do go to the dome, there’s no guarantee that any of us will survive,” she’d sniped.

“You’re right.” He swallowed, licking his lips. “But I have to believe in something better. Like Mum did. She had to make the same choice, O, knowing either way, that her and her baby might not make it. She risked everything for hope - for you.”

“I don’t want to make that choice.” Octavia glared at him. “I’m not my mother.”

“I know, O… I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, frustrated that he wasn’t getting through to her. “But if you stay outside, you will die!” He leant his hands on the bed, hunched over close to her and softly said, “You think Lincoln would want that for his child?”

In hindsight he should have expected her reaction, but the slap still stung the thin skin of his cheek and his heart contorted every time she resorted to force to get her feelings across.

Was it him that had taught her that?

He’d wanted so much more for her.

And now, look where they were.

Like a twist of fate in one of the tragic tales their mother used to read to them, he felt as though all of the pain of life on the Ark, and the grimness of what they’d done on the ground, had been for nothing.

They were back where they started – facing the same foe and suffering through the same struggles as their predecessors.

It seemed that he and his sister were also stuck in some sick cycle.

“I wish you’d never taken me to that dance,” Octavia’s eyes filled with tears as she hissed her words at him. “We would have died on the Ark like everybody else and I would never have met Lincoln.”

“Stop it, Octavia!” He was tired - tired of trying to live her life as well as his, tired of fighting her all the time. “You don’t mean that.”

“I would never have lost him,” she sobbed.

“He’s not lost, O.” Bellamy struggled to find a way to say the words that would help her see. “Don’t you get it? Your baby… your baby is Lincoln’s legacy.”

She’d screamed at him then and he’d left.

He’d left because he was a mess, and he couldn’t take any more hurt from her.

Not now.

Not with such little time remaining.

If something as beautiful and pure as the promise of new life couldn’t break the barriers between them - stop the vicious circle that kept spiralling out of control, then there was no way he could.

He had to let Octavia go.

There was a dome to be completed and people who needed him.

His heart and his hope may have been beaten, but at least his brain and body could be useful.

*

Back at Arkadia, Clarke accosted him once Abby had excused herself and headed to the clinic.

He had been expecting her to attack him on the walk back, but instead she bit her lip and barged through the bush, her bewildered expression gradually morphing into intense contemplation as they continued their journey home.

She’d probably spent the entire trip trying to think of a plan, or something.

“Bellamy,” she cornered him near the entrance to The Ark, stepping up into his space and pressing a finger to his chest.

Just like the “good” old dropship days.

“You can’t just give up on Octavia like that! I know you, and that’s… not possible.”

Her eyes were earnest now, yearning for him to tell her what she needed to hear.

But he had no answers.

“What do you want me to do Clarke?”

“You could make her join us,” she said without hesitation.

Bellamy sighed and looked up to the sky. He didn’t realise how strongly Clarke felt about Octavia and her baby until then.

“Like you tried to make Luna take the chip?” He called her on it, gently, because that’s what they did for each other. If the tables were turned he’d want to be reminded of his mistakes, before he made them again.

But Clarke’s mouth dropped and she furrowed her brow - she hadn’t anticipated his actions.

Perhaps because they were still tentatively rebuilding what they had lost, after she’d left. He cursed himself for forgetting that things were different between them now.

His held his breath as Clarke closed her lids briefly before looking back up at him, her eyes awash with regretful agreement.

“You’re right,” she said quietly and Bellamy breathed - relieved. “I was wrong to try and take away Luna’s freedom of choice. We can’t force Octavia to do anything against her will. I just… I don’t understand. It seems simple to me. Stay and die, or go and live a life with her and Lincoln’s child. A life she may never have even had the opportunity to live on The Ark, a life that so many others would kill for.”

Bellamy felt the same; he did; only Clarke was forgetting one vital part.

“She thinks being restricted to the dome is the same as cursing her kid to the upbringing she had,” he said.

“Was it really so bad?” Clarke asked.

“Come on, Clarke,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsettled recalling that small but seminal part of his story. “You know the answer to that.”

“It’s just…” Clarke’s eyes softened, “she had you.”

Bellamy tucked his arms across his chest, and looked to the side, trying to hide his watering eyes.

“I guess that wasn’t enough,” he sniffed.

“No… Bellamy, don’t say that,” Clarke stepped in close and smoothed her palm up his arm, taking it away again when he glanced sideways at her.

“It’s true,” he said taking a deep breath and lifting his head. He needed her to understand why he’d let Octavia go. “I was a fool to think I could ever convince her. She’s had so little control over her life and the way things went, it just made sense to let her own this - even though it hurts like hell.”

Clarke sighed, resigned. Her shoulders dropped and her face looked exactly as his felt.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.

Bellamy nodded.

“I was determined that Octavia’s baby would provide a second chance for you and her - for Lincoln - for all of us. I never expected to see the start of a new generation,” she said sorrowfully. “Hopefully, they don’t stuff up the same as we did.”

He snorted.

“You can’t protect everyone from everything Clarke,” he placed his hands on his hips. “But you can teach them to be strong, resilient. Teach them that no matter what they face, as long as they face it together, they will overcome it.”

For a second she stood stunned, blankly staring at him like she was somewhere else. Then her eyes lit up like he hadn’t seen in a long time.

A soft smile curved up the corner of her lips and she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes good-naturedly.

“What happened to - whatever the hell we want?” She teased.

He shrugged and smirked. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who remembered stuff they said and did way back when. “I guess a learnt a thing or two.”

They locked eyes then, looking at each other like they were reflecting on old photographs that represented their short but extraordinary shared history.

After a minute, Bellamy broke out of the gaze awkwardly and they both turned in sync toward the Ark. Their shoulders and arms brushed lightly against each other as they entered.

“You did well with Octavia,” Clarke added as an afterthought, as they walked.

“Yeah,” he griped “and look at what I got for it.”

Before he knew what was happening, Clarke came to an abrupt stop, quickly slipped her fingers into his palm, tugged down on his hand so that he halted beside her, and stretched on her tiptoes to press her lips into the soft spot of his cheek.

Perhaps his heart was not so beaten.

It certainly picked up the pace when she drew away from him and they stood only gasps apart, studying each other’s expressions with a new found fervour.

“What was that for?” he asked unassumingly, trying not to think of the last time she’d kissed his cheek.

“You did well Bellamy,” Clarke said with certainty.

His muscles seemed to remember how to smile then, and he ducked his head. His lowered eyes found their fingers still entwined. Impulsively, as if it were the most natural thing he knew, he circled her knuckles with his thumb.

“Maybe we should keep Octavia a spot… just in case,” he murmured meekly, taking the time to cherish the sensation of her skin.  

“Two spots,” she corrected him with a grin, slowly stepping away from him, her arm stretched outlandishly so as to delay the separation of their fingers for as long as possible.

“Two spots,” he chuckled, and the sound was so foreign to them both, that they raised their eyebrows at each other in awe, before chuckling a little more.

Chapter Text

As it was they didn’t have to wait two days to see Octavia again.

Indra and Nyko hurried her through the gates of Arkadia before dawn the next morning, her body pale and emaciated - hanging limp in Nyko’s arms.

Bellamy was on hunting and gathering detail and Clarke was asleep, leaving Abby and Jackson on call for the clinic.

“What’s changed?” Abby asked matter-of-factly, tugging up her sleep tousled hair as she filed into the infirmary behind Jackson, heading straight for Octavia. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘till tomorrow or the next day.”

“After you left yesterday she continued to vomit,” Indra reported. “She hasn’t kept anything down for two days now and on our way here she lost consciousness three times.”

“Two times,” Octavia rasped. “The other time I was just napping.”

Abby raised her eyebrows in disapproval and began to check Octavia’s vitals, briefing Jackson on the situation as she worked.

“She refused to come to camp,” Indra added sternly. “I was forced to recruit Nyko to escort her here.”

“And you were right to do so,” Abby confirmed, nodding at Indra as she took a vial of blood from her patient’s arm. “Octavia, you’re dehydrated. You need fluids. Jackson’s going to attach an IV and I’m assigning you to bedrest until further notice. Once I get the results from these blood tests we’ll start you on some vitamin supplements,”

“Bedrest!” Octavia protested, struggling to rise up on her elbows in order to assert her disapproval. “I can’t do bedrest.”

“You need to recover.” Abby said gently, motioning to Indra for one of the extra blankets on the shelf beside her. “And you need to stay away from stressors, like any situation or person who might make you angry or upset.”

“You mean my brother,” Octavia sighed.

“I mean anything or anyone that could disturb your emotional state,” Abby clarified as her and Indra stretched the blanket across Octavia’s legs.

“So I can’t do anything?”

“Right now you need to focus on restoring your body in order to support the life growing inside you. If you continue to spiral downwards things are going to get seriously complicated for you and your baby.” Abby tapped a few notes onto her tablet and turned back to Octavia. “I’ll send someone over soon with a warm meal and be back in an hour to check up on you, until then Jackson will be here if you need anything. And Octavia…”

“Yeah?”

“Try and get some sleep.”

*

Word travelled quickly in the camp and by the time Clarke had risen, showered and entered the mess for breakfast, she’d heard about Octavia’s grand entrance from six different people. None of them knew of the nature of Octavia’s illness, of course, and all of them were curious. Clarke liked to think that their concern was for the wellbeing of their friend, truth was, most of them were probably making the same assumptions her and Bellamy had, before finding out about the baby.

Pregnancies were rare in camp, and having children was the last thing on peoples’ minds right now. Maybe that would shift, Clarke thought, once they had constructed their new safe haven and settled in to life under the arch.

She hoped so.

In the mess, she found her mother easily, sitting with Kane as they shared their meal.

“How’s Octavia?” she asked, pulling up a chair without hesitation.

Nothing much had changed for Clarke after Abby opened up about her feelings for Marcus. It seemed so natural, so right, and according to Bellamy “so damn obvious.” Clarke had never been good at picking up on those things, and besides, it appeared a lot of those feelings had developed while she was absent.

 “I’ve diagnosed her with Hyperemesis Gravidarum,” Abby answered, making sure to keep her voice low. “She should stabilise in a few days but there’s no telling how long her symptoms will continue.”

“Can I see her?”

“She needs peace and quiet, Clarke.”

“Of course,” Clarke exhaled, looking down at her hands in her lap. “Is Bellamy back yet?”

Marcus shook his head. “They’ll be another hour or so.”

“Clarke,” Abby stretched her hand across the table, reaching towards her daughter. “When Bellamy returns, you need to help him see that he can’t be in there with her.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed softly. “He’ll be okay. He just wants what’s best for his sister.”

“We all do,” Marcus smiled. “Bellamy will understand.”

 *

After eating, Clarke managed to swap assignments with Bryan at short notice, which positioned her on the side of the dome structure closest to the gate. From there she would be able to observe Bellamy’s detail arrive home and approach him before anyone else got a chance to let the cat out of the bag about Octavia.

It was mid-morning when they came in loaded with two large carcasses, plenty of fare from the traps and baskets full of root vegetables, berries, herbs and other edible greens.

“Looks like you had a productive morning,” Clarke greeted him, trying to keep her tone light.

“We got lucky with the game,” he shrugged, stopping to direct the rest of the detail to the smoke house and preserving tent with their provisions.

“Thought you were working on the south side this morning,” he said, squinting through the low-rising sun to see her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a little delayed – simultaneously struck by the sun illuminating his freckled face and the realisation that he knew exactly where and when she was on shift. “Octavia arrived a little earlier than anticipated, but she’s alright,” she added.

“Okay,” he drawled. “Why is she early? Is something wrong?”

“She’s dehydrated due to the morning sickness and can’t keep anything down. Mum’s put her on an IV and restricted her to bedrest. She thinks… she thinks it’s stress related.”

“So… your Mum doesn’t want me to see her?”

“She needs space Bellamy, and time to recover,” Clarke reached out a hand to comfort him, looking up with trust and understanding.

For a moment, Bellamy concentrated solely on Clarke’s hand – calm and reassuring on his arm. Something about her touch seemed to ground him when he found himself about to fret. It harnessed his wild heart rate, fooled his fight-or-flight response and dispelled the negative self-talk in his head. In fact, simply having her beside him had a similar effect, but he welcomed the ever increasing, if fleeting, moments of physical contact between them.

“How long?” he asked, finally allowing himself to return to their conversation.

It was such a demanding task, she knew, asking him to stay away from his sister.

“That’s up to Octavia, I guess.” Clarke smiled. “But I think she’ll be on her feet in no time.”

“You think?” Bellamy cocked his eyebrow as he reached down for the sack of tubers beside him, flinging it over his shoulder before looking back at her.

“Well, let’s just say I can’t imagine her taking the news about being restricted to bedrest lying down,” she emphasised, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Bellamy shook his head at the absurdity of her words.

“Ha ha, funny,” he deadpanned with a quirk of a smile, nudging her back.

*

Octavia slept for almost twenty-four hours straight. Aside from Indra and Nyko, nobody was permitted to see the patient, but once she was able to keep down all three of her daily meals, Abby allowed her some guests.

Bellamy was not one of them, nor was Clarke.

It made sense, he supposed, that the first people to visit his sister in the med tent were her friends from the dropship.

She’d barely seen them since they took down the City of Light, given that Octavia had almost immediately begun working on secret missions for the coalition and was often elsewhere.

Now that she was detained at Arkadia – Harper, Monty and Jasper were keen to catch up with Octavia, despite having their own “end of the world” duties that occupied most of their time.

Bellamy was grateful for Octavia’s friends, and he knew it was the best thing for his sister, but it didn’t make the space between them any smaller.

Keeping an eye on things from his work position on the last section of the Arkadian dome wall, he sighed and nodded his head at Harper when she exited the hospital tent.

Being restricted from going inside the clinic didn’t stop Bellamy from working as close as he possibly could, watching and waiting for the moment Abby would say it was okay and he would drop everything and waltz in there.

On the fourth day after Octavia’s arrival, the Arkadian dome wall was completed.

That night the community celebrated by the fire with a humble feast, dancing and speeches.

Octavia remained in her tent.

Bellamy sat beside Clarke and Raven as they tirelessly talked shop, nutting out a glitch in the dome’s magnetic armour. He didn’t even feign interest, for his attention was captivated by a different conversation on the other side of the fire.

Diagonally across from them, Harper and Monty were curled into each other, sipping from their moonshine while Jasper mused about Octavia and her impending motherhood.

Bellamy, along with the rest of his work detail, discovered that Octavia had shared her news with her friends when Jasper unintentionally referred to him as “Uncle Blake” in the briefing that morning.

A lifetime ago he might have responded to Jasper’s mishap in a less than favourable manner. That morning he simply breezed past the incident - maybe because he’d changed, or maybe because Octavia and her baby’s fate were still uncertain. Regardless, the others didn’t need to know about her decision, unless she wanted them to.

It seemed they were all assuming she would stay. At least that’s what they were talking about – what life in the dome would be like for Octavia with a baby at her side.

Between the crackling of the fire and the sounds of festivity, Bellamy only caught bits of their discussion, but it was enough to make him melancholic.

Octavia was within reach, yet so far away, and he missed her now more than he ever had, even during her time in the Skybox.

“Seriously,” Raven snapped, suddenly intolerant of Bellamy’s mood and Clarke’s lack of concentration because of Bellamy’s mood. “Just go see her already. I, for one, am sick of seeing your sorry arse slumping around camp like it’s the end of the world or something.”

Bellamy shot Clarke a searching look.

“Doctor’s orders,” he muttered, staring into the searing flames.

Raven rolled her eyes.

“Abby’s otherwise occupied, and Octavia’s probably sleeping anyway. It’s not like you can induce any stress when she’s not even conscious.” She stood up. “Please, just do us all a favour, Bellamy, because your sad, pathetic face is not a good look, and it’s distracting your team members,” she glared at Clarke before stomping off.

“Ignore her;” Clarke said quickly, “she’s pissed that I asked her to re-run the diagnostics on the shield.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, a little thrown by Raven’s outburst.

“Yeah. A few of the cells are malfunctioning. It’s nothing Raven and Monty can’t sort out.”

Bellamy followed her line of sight across the fire where Monty was kissing Harper goodbye while Raven waited on the sidelines, arms folded and face frustrated.

Once the two techies’ silhouettes faded into the shadows, Jasper and Harper continued their prior conversation, which had somehow digressed to a debate on what was worse – poo or spew? A small part of Bellamy was pleased it wasn’t Jasper who was facing the prospect of parenthood. He chuckled to himself at the thought of it.

“What are you laughing about?” Clarke had ducked off to get them both another drink. When she sat down this time, she sat closer than before and Bellamy drew in a breath as the side of her thigh pressed against his.

“I was just imagining Jasper Junior, you know, goggles and all.”

She giggled and he thought he might fall off his seat.

Some of the others turned at the sound but on seeing the two of them smiling stupidly at each other, they glanced away and started whispering amongst themselves.

Clarke looked down at her cup.

They sat without saying a word for a while, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and the fuel in their cups.

“Do you ever think about your future?” Clarke soon asked, breaking the silence between them.

“No,” Bellamy replied, he loved that she was never afraid to delve straight into the deep stuff.

“Never?”

“I’ve been living day by day since Octavia was born,” he shrugged. “I haven’t had the luxury of wondering what kind of life I’d have.”

“And now?”

He looked up from his cup at the edge in her voice and noticed an intensity in her eyes usually reserved for more urgent moments.

“Now’s no different,” he said truthfully.

“But you have hope, right?” Clarke continued, unperturbed.

“Hope that we’ll survive this?”

“Hope that one day we’ll be free to do more than just survive.”

Bellamy sighed and leant his head back, looking up at the stars.

“We may never be rid of the things we’ve done, Clarke.”

“Maybe...” she paused, sliding a hand onto the top of his leg, her fingertips lightly grazing the inside of his thigh. “But we have each other, and our children will be free.”

“Our children?” Bellamy swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked at her sideways as a blush crept up Clarke’s cheeks.

“I-I meant…” she stuttered, removing her hand to steady the shaking cup in her other, “our people’s children - like Octavia and Lincoln’s baby, and… Jasper Junior.”

“Of course,” Bellamy smiled slyly and raised his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

“To our future generations,” Clarke tapped her drink against his, “may they be free from Freudian slips of the tongue.”

Bellamy coughed, choking on the small amount of liquid he was allowed.

“Freudian slip,” Clarke clarified, “it’s an unintentional…”

“I know what a Freudian slip is.” Bellamy recovered.

They fell back into an easy silence, staring at the night sky above them, but all Bellamy could think about was - had Clarke just admitted to “unconsciously” considering the idea of having his babies?

*

It was three more days before Octavia asked Abby for permission to see her brother.

Her symptoms had stabilised and she was allowed to move out of the clinic into her own quarters.  At first she spent some down time around the domes with Harper and the boys, doing non-work related things like swimming in the lake and admiring the mini eco-systems, however, it didn’t take her long to request being assigned to simple tasks, like sewing and weaving.

Which Abby obliged.

After the celebrations, Bellamy had thought hard about Raven’s comments and realised she was right. Now that the wall construction was complete, Octavia was recovering well and had been re-housed, he had no need to be hanging around. He volunteered to run extra hunting and gathering details in order to ramp up their stocks and signed on to help with the labour on the airlocks between the individual arcs. Putting his brain and his body to use felt right, and being so busy kept him from over-analysing the situation with Octavia.

He heard during his cherished daily trysts with Clarke that his sister had been getting out and about, but he managed to stay away from her, which wasn’t too hard considering his workload.  

Sometimes he’d lie awake at night wondering whether she’d completely cut ties with him and he’d never see her again.

It was after one of those evenings that he solemnly strode off at his morning break, keen to see Clarke, for her presence alone helped lift the darkness from his shoulders.

As he rounded the hill, however, he was surprised to find Octavia waiting for him under the old oak tree where he and Clarke usually met.

“I hope you don’t mind, Clarke mentioned you’d be here,” Octavia said almost meekly, standing up and dusting her hands against her pants.

He tried not to stare at her mid-section, but it was obvious Octavia had popped. He’d seen her from a distance the last few days since she’d been freed from the clinic, but this was the first time they’d been in close proximity since the day he found out she was pregnant.

“Kinda makes it more real, right?” she read his thoughts, palming a hand over her perfectly bulging bump.

In that moment Bellamy wanted nothing but to embrace his little sister, to hold her close and keep her safe, just like he used to do when she was younger, but he knew those days were over, so he stayed with his feet planted, unable to speak, unsure of what to say.

This was new ground for them.

They continued on with awkward small talk for a short time, until the gap between them became less and less significant.

“Harper showed me around the lakeside dome.” Octavia mentioned once they were both sitting down, sharing some of the fruit Bellamy had brought for his break. “It’s… not what I expected.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy was happy to simply hear his sister’s voice, so he let her do most of the talking. It was promising to hear that she had been exploring the domes though.

“So… her and Monty huh?” Octavia continued.

“Yeah…” He had forgotten that she had hardly been around since the City of Light. A lot had happened since then.

“They’re good for each other, right?”

“They’re helping each other heal.” He smiled when he said it, because it was true, and he couldn’t help but feel content every time he thought about those two.

“How ‘bout you?” Octavia peered at him as she picked at a piece of citrus fruit.

“I’m fine O,” he replied confidently. He didn’t want her worrying about him.

“I meant – who’s helping you heal?”

He stared at her for a second as he tried to figure out where she was going with the conversation, then he shook his head, changed tack and brought up the topic they had both been skirting around.

“All that matters to me right now is that you heal.” He placed a hand on hers.

“Ugh,” Octavia groaned but she didn’t shy away from his touch. “You sound like Indra. She’s gone all nurturing on me. It’s a little hard to take.”

“She cares about you, O. We all care about you. Is it so bad that we want to help?”

It took Octavia a moment to respond and when she did Bellamy felt the air had altered.

“What if you can’t help?” She said sadly.

“I can try. But you have to trust me.” He squeezed her hand. “You do still trust me don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Octavia shrugged. “I don’t even know if I trust myself anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He had never seen her so indecisive before.

“I mean… lying in the clinic doing nothing kinda reminded me of being under the floor in the Ark.”

“O…” He squeezed her hand tighter and looked at her with growing concern. He knew it hurt to talk about that part of her life.

“I’m okay. It’s just… I’ve had a lot of time to think about things. Things that I didn’t want to think about before.”

“And?” Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

“And… I’m sorry Bellamy. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I should have listened,” she started to cry. “We could have saved Lincoln,” she whimpered through her tears.

“Maybe,” Bellamy pulled her closer, smoothing his hand over her head and down her hair. It destroyed him, seeing her like this, but he was slowly learning that he couldn’t protect her from everything. “I never wanted any of this for you, O. I never wanted you to make the same mistakes as me.”

“Well… you shouldn’t have been so good at making them,” she sniffled. “Then I wouldn’t have tried to copy.”

Bellamy huffed and hugged her to his side with a smirk, while she wiped her eyes.

“I know I can’t make you stay, O. But I want you to know… Lincoln was right. He told me a long time ago that he didn’t make you strong, that was you, all along. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to keep you safe, but I was wrong. I was scared to let you go, because without you I’d be nothing. I wouldn’t know who I was. Being your brother was all I knew. I was wrong to hold on to you. You don’t need me O. You don’t need Lincoln either. You don’t need anybody. But this baby needs you. This baby needs you to live.”

“But… what if I can’t do it Bell?” she whispered. “What if I can’t be what this baby needs me to be. I’ve killed people. I killed Pike. I’m a murderer…”

“You’re lots of things Octavia. You’re the girl who grew up under the floor and the first sky person on the ground. You’re one of the hundred. You’re Skaikru and Trikru. A warrior and a Blake. You’re my sister, O, and you’re a survivor. Becoming a mother doesn’t nullify any of that, it just adds another layer to your story.”

“My story?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, you know, like the myths Mum used to read us. It’ll be… the story of Octavia Blake, the girl who never gave up.”

“And what will they say about her brother?” She teased, resting her head on his shoulder as they both leant back against the tree.

Bellamy shrugged.

“That he was a good brother,” he winked at her, “but an even better Uncle!”

Chapter Text

It felt like a small victory, having Octavia back, but like all good things on Earth, it didn’t last long.

She’d been spending her spare time in the butterfly garden, sometimes alone but often with Harper or one of the hundred.

Bellamy saw her at the evening meals and most mornings before the business of his day began, finalising the finishing touches on the dome – their future home.

It was almost two days before dome day (D-day) when Harper came looking for him in the council chambers mid-morning. He and Clarke were bent over Raven’s weather chart, trying to figure out how to re-route the last refugee group that was due to arrive before the rain clouds that had begun moving steadily towards them opened up.

Harper stood in the doorway with resolve, her eyes persistently searching until she saw Bellamy’s broad back and Clarke leaning in close as they studied the sheet side by side.

“Bellamy,” Kane alerted his attention to Harper’s frantic form standing behind them patiently. “You have a visitor.”

The three of them stepped out into the hall, Clarke’s face stern as she asked, “What is it?” even though they both knew it had to be about Octavia.

“Something’s not right,” Harper said with certainty, eyes on Bellamy.

He looked at her under arched eyebrows, urging her to continue.

“Yesterday Octavia and I were in one of the hot houses and we came across some white flowers.”

Clarke scrunched her forehead impatiently and crossed her arms in front of her. “Go on.”

“She started crying,” Harper added and Bellamy begun to shift on his feet. “She was really upset. I tried to help but she just kept repeating something about how she wanted to be with Lincoln. I should have told you,” Harper looked down to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Harper,” Bellamy touched the top of her arm gently but with enough pressure to encourage her to look up at him and re-engage. “It’s okay,” he said but Harper shook her head.

 “No, it’s not,” she muttered hurriedly. “Because now, I-I can’t find her anywhere.”

Bellamy froze and Clarke unfolded her arms in slow motion.

“I went to her room two hours ago to see if she wanted to get some breakfast and she wasn’t there.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged worried glances.

“What about the butterfly garden?” Clarke questioned coolly.

Harper shook her head. “I’ve looked everywhere,” she said, and then in a quiet voice. “I think she’s gone.”

Bellamy cursed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground like he wanted to kick something.

“You two check her room again,” Clarke directed decisively. “I’ll talk to the others and the guard detail; see if they’ve noticed any unusual activity. Meet me at the mess in fifteen.”

Harper turned immediately to her task and Bellamy was about to do the same when Clarke reached out, gently placing her palm at the base of his neck, sliding it down over his collarbone to squeeze his shoulder, staring at him with stone-cold confidence.

“We will find her,” she said.

By the time Clarke made it to the mess hall it was meal time and the large open area was filling quickly with the usual mix of Grounder and Skaikru personnel.

Raven, Monty and Jasper were already there, having been alerted by Clarke asking around.

They were cautious not to garner the attention of the guards, or the council, who had been on edge for the last few days. As the rain approached and D-day loomed, people were beginning to go a little stir crazy. There had been a spate of thefts and some defectors from camp who had decided their chances were better on the outside. Since then the council had placed a ban on anyone, except official outfits, leaving the arch.

So, in order to appear as though they were meeting for something as ordinary as lunch, Clarke and the others pretended to eat while they waited for Bellamy and Harper to appear.

They were not very convincing.

Once Bellamy entered – Harper, Miller and Bryan ambling anxiously in front of him, the jig was up anyway.

His face was a dark mask of fury and something else, determination maybe?

Clarke didn’t want to ask.

“Anything?” Raven said instead, trying to fill the stony silence as they all half sat, half stood around the table, too deeply invested now to care about how things might have looked.

Harper shook her head. “She’s taken supplies from her room,” she confirmed.

“But where would she go?” Jasper asked, his eyes wide with concern. “There’s nowhere safer than here, right?”

“We have to do something,” Monty insisted, looking straight at Clarke.

“No,” Bellamy’s voice was cold and firm, sending a chill through the rest of them. “We are not doing anything. There’s less than 40hrs till the dome is closed, and one group of refugees still unaccounted for – that’s what we need to concentrate on.”

“Bellamy-” shocked, Clarke stepped towards him but he put up his hand, as if to say ‘stop’.

“You all heard the council the other day; we can’t sacrifice any more supplies, or risk trying to rescue people who don’t want to be rescued.”

The others looked around at each other with eyebrows lowered in confusion and anger, trying to fathom who this imposter was, standing before them talking like his sister meant nothing to him.

“She’s one of us,” Monty said gently. “We can’t just-“

“Yes, we can.” Bellamy was resolute.

At that moment, Abby approached the table.

“What’s going on?” she asked with quiet command, fully aware of the tension in the air but conscious of creating a scene.

“Nothing,” Clarke said a little too sharply. “We were just discussing the last refugee party.”

As she spoke Bellamy spun on his heels and marched off, the rest of the group, including Abby, watching him with puzzlement.

“Raven!” Clarke’s harsh authority drew them back. “Anything new on the radio?” she asked with a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Nothing yet,” Raven said slowly, unable to read the  real reason for her friend’s redirection. “I think the building storm is causing the interference.”

“Keep trying,” Clarke continued talking, even as her eyes followed Bellamy’s back as he exited the mess. “If needs be, we can direct them to one of our hidden emergency stores until the first round of rain recedes, then they can enter later through the decontamination chamber.”

“Maybe…” Raven started but Clarke was already making her way after Bellamy. “But we haven’t perfected the…” Raven shouted but Clarke was too far away to hear. “Damnitt!” the mechanic muttered.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Abby asked again.

Nobody said anything.

Bellamy didn’t go to his quarters, nor did he go anywhere near the council chambers. Instead Clarke followed him to a supply section where he met one of the guards. They talked tersely until the other man finally agreed with whatever Bellamy had asked, and they parted.

Clarke stepped in front of Bellamy as he stepped out of the store room, gasping as she realised he was now dressed entirely in a hazmat and was stuffing a spare mask into his already over-stuffed satchel.

She should have known he’d try to throw them off the scent and sacrifice himself to find his sister.

“I’m coming with you,” she said quickly, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin as if to challenge him.

Bellamy tore off the hazmat headpiece, shook the hair from his eyes and grabbed her arm with urgent sincerity.

“No. Clarke please. She’s my responsibility.”

Clarke pursed her lips. “She may need medical attention.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, exasperated.

 “You’re needed here,” Bellamy said. “We might not be back in time, Clarke. I don’t even know where she is.”

“She can’t have gotten far in her condition,” Clarke decided before heading into the supply room for another suit.

 “I won’t let you risk your life for her.”

“Well I’m not letting you do this alone…”Clarke crossed her arms.

Bellamy clenched his jaw and ducked his head, resigned.

“Alright,” he sighed reluctantly. “Let’s get going before your mother figures us out and puts an end to it.”

After exiting the dome under the guise of a routine radiation check, thanks to the guard Bellamy had met, they headed straight for the forest.

Once they were no longer visible and under the protection of the trees, Bellamy removed his mask and gloves, and scouted around the forest floor for tracks. Clarke followed his lead and they spent a few minutes searching silently.

“Anything?” he asked bleakly.

“Nothing,” Clarke replied, equally dismal.

Bellamy grit his teeth and blinked the sweat from his eyes, turning and storming off into the trees.

Clarke blew the hair from her face and chased after him.

“Wait,” she cried, and he slowed a little, till she was matching his step.

She knew it was fruitless, walking through the forest in no particular direction trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found. But she said nothing and they continued on like that for hours without saying a word.

It wasn’t until they were almost upon the dropship that they realised where their instincts had taken them.

They stood, side by side, between the remains of the burnt gate, looking in at the remnants of their past life, the place where it all began – their baptism of fire.

It was the first time they’d been back at the dropship together since Finn had turned himself in.

“She won’t be here,” Bellamy stated flatly.

“I know,” Clarke replied. “But maybe we should rest a while. Reconfigure.”

Night had fallen and they were running out of time, fast. The dome was due to be fully activated and enclosed in approximately 36 hours, unless of course the rain came early, then they had an even smaller chance to make it back to camp.

“Where do you think she might have gone?” Clarke asked, as they sat at the entrance to the dropship, knees bent and legs spread, drinking from their canteens.

Bellamy tore the corner off a ration pack and looked out around him, thinking.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I thought… these past few days, that she was okay with the way things were going, that she’d decided to stay.”

“Me too,” Clarke smiled weakly, leaning into him softly until their shoulders were pressed against one another and her head almost rested in the nook of his neck. She wanted him to know he wasn’t the only one who’d hoped.

“It was stupid.” Bellamy said suddenly and she felt his body stiffen. “I should have known something would set her off.”

“You couldn’t predict this Bellamy. It’s not your fault.”

“I got complacent. Dropped my guard. Just like on the Ark when I let her get arrested.”

“Bellamy stop!” Clarke rolled her legs over so she was sitting on her side, shuffled even closer into him and wrapped her arms around his arm. “We’re going to find her.” They gazed intently at each other, their faces so close Bellamy could feel Clarke’s breath tickle his skin as she spoke. “And we’re going to bring her back.”

This time it was Bellamy’s turn to smile weakly as he slowly placed his hand on top of hers, lacing her thin fingers in his as he watched her, carefully gauging her reaction.

Clarke relished in the reciprocated touch.

“Octavia hated it here,” Bellamy said after a beat or two of silence.

Clarke snorted.

“I remember,” she said exaggerated. “She was always sneaking out…”

Their eyes snap locked with each other then and Bellamy squeezed her hand tight.

 “To see Lincoln,” he added, reluctantly letting her fingers loose and untangling their arms as he stood up in a rush.

“Harper said she kept repeating… that she wanted to be with him,” Clarke continued, already missing the comfort of Bellamy’s caress.

“She’s at the cave. His cave,” Bellamy finished.

They were both on their feet now, hitching up their packs and grabbing the rest of their hazmat gear.

“Lead the way,” Clarke gestured and they headed off, putting the darkness and dust that was the dropship camp behind them, the warmth of their embrace giving them new life and energy to go on.

Octavia was on the brink of reality by the time they made it to the cave. As they crept around the corner into the main chamber, they heard her cry out.

“Lincoln!” she called feverishly. “Lincoln? Is that you?”

She was curled on the floor on some furs, sweat sheen shining off her skin in the soft candle light.

Clarke tried to hide her concern, but there was no fooling Bellamy.

He ran to his sister’s side and scooped her into his arms.

“She’s burning up,” he grunted.

“Bellamy?” Octavia blubbered slumping against him. “What are you wearing?” she giggled, and then gasped when he lifted her into his arms. “Put me down!” she yelled. “I don’t want to go under the floor, please Bellamy, please - I wish I’d never been born!”

“Don’t say that Octavia,” he shushed her, as Clarke checked her vitals, gave him a quick nod and gathered Octavia’s few belongings. “We have to go now,” he said quietly to his sister. “We’re taking you home.”

“My home is in here,” Octavia mumbled feebly, holding her fist to her heart before giving in to her exhaustion and falling asleep.

“She’s delirious,” Clarke explained as they exited the cave. “Probably hasn’t slept since the incident in the hot house and the journey here wouldn’t have helped. She needs fluids.”

“I know,” Bellamy breathed.

“How far is it back to the arch?” Clarke asked, staring up at the sky.

Around them the soft glow of dawn was beginning to filter through the trees.

“Hard to say,” Bellamy muttered. “Six - maybe eight hours.”

He felt Clarke grasp his upper arm.

“We may not have that much time,” she murmured, nodding to where a set of dark storm clouds hovered ahead.

“There’s still 24hrs till they shut the dome,” Bellamy stopped, dropping Octavia’s legs and letting her lean unconscious against him, so that he could rest. “We’ll make it.”

“Not if the rain comes early.”

“Clarke, it’s been looming like this for the last three weeks.”

“Not like this.” She lifted her hands, palms open. “This is different. Can’t you feel it? Smell it?”

Bellamy could. The air was like electricity.

“Let’s keep moving,” his voice was deep and gruff, punctuated by grunts as he resumed his hold on Octavia.

“If we make it to one of the emergency supply hideouts, we might be able to wait out the first rain,” Clarke reasoned.

They both knew it was a long shot. There was no guarantee any of the outposts they had chosen would withstand whatever was coming, nor was there confirmation that Raven’s decontamination chamber would be effective.

“We have the hazmats,” Bellamy bargained. “I think we should aim for the dome.”

Clarke thought for a moment and then nodded. “Okay,” she said. She believed in him. If Bellamy thought they could do it, then they would.

They made good time, despite having to stop frequently to alleviate the weight from Bellamy’s back. Octavia slipped in and out of consciousness and was capable of carrying herself some of the way, despite putting up a fight at one stage when she realised she was no longer in the sanctuary of Lincoln’s cave.

About two hours out from the camp, she insisted on walking despite her unsteady stumbling slowing them down. Clarke, no longer having to concentrate hard on putting one foot in front of the other in their reckless pace, found herself looking up at the sky every other second.

It had remained grey the entire day, the only evidence of the sun a dull glow emanating from behind the clouds from time to time.

When they reached a grove of trees that Clarke recognised, a flash of light to their north caught her eye. She looked up just in time to see lightning on the horizon, and immediately in front of her a large bulb of water fell onto a pile of pine. She averted her eyes to the sound of rain hitting plastic and held out her arm. A large, voluptuous drop of water ran off her hazmat suit.

“Bellamy!” she screamed and spun around. “It’s started!”

Behind her, Bellamy and Octavia stopped still, then, seeing the rain falling randomly around them, whipped into action.

Bellamy hoisted his sister into his arms and ran for the cover of a dense thicket.

“Put this on,” he commanded, wrenching the spare helmet from his satchel. It was all he had.

Clarke fitted her own headpiece. She produced a wrap cloak from Octavia’s things and draped it over the girl’s shoulders, covering her bare arms. Finally, she slipped her gloves onto Octavia’s hands.

“We’re close,” she said. “And the rain’s not thick; we could make a dash for it.”

“I agree,” Bellamy nodded. “Octavia, climb on my back, there’s no time for you to walk.”

“Will they wait for us?” Octavia asked weakly as Bellamy hiked her up, her swollen belly making the manoeuvre awkward.

“I hope so,” Clarke replied, stepping out of their temporary cover into the slow falling rain.

Together they stormed on through the trees, their hearts, minds and bodies focused wholly on one thing and one thing alone – surviving.

It wasn’t long before Clarke felt a drop burn into the soft skin of her unprotected hand; she hissed but said nothing, the pain sensation driving her forward.

Over the past twelve months their bodies had become accustomed to the constant pressure of their daily lives, but Clarke knew the events of the last 16 hours would take quite a toll.

What kept her going was the image of her people safe inside the dome and the thought that she would have all the time in the world to recover, preferably with Bellamy somewhere close by.

She mulled on that thought for quite a while, conjuring a picture in her mind of what down time with Bellamy might look like.

As the forest began to thin out, they were stopped in their tracks by a loud clap of thunder and then the sound of voices - lots of them.

“Over there,” Octavia pointed from her vantage on Bellamy’s back.

Clambering through the trees with a crash of noise and frightened expressions on their faces came the last group of refugees.

Men, women, the elderly and children - even some domestic animals, emerged sporadically. Some were in small groups, others walked alone. All of them stared with enlarged eyes at the trio before them.

“Skaikru!” somebody cried, gesturing excitedly.

“We’re saved,” said another.

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged looks and rushed over to the troupe.

“Who has the radio?” Clarke called, weaving through the frantic crowd until she found the person responsible for communication. She grabbed the device from them. “This way,” she yelled, leading the group towards the camp as she tried desperately to contact the dome.

There was nothing but static.

Around her, the refugees had covered themselves as best they could, but the rain was pervasive.

Children cried relentlessly and others cradled their blistered arms and hands in agony.

The rain had slowed momentarily but the electrical storm was approaching faster. The gap between thunder clap and lightning strike was decreasing.

“Try Morse code,” Bellamy yelled at Clarke as he and Octavia caught up.

Clarke tapped her message through as she continued to guide the civilians to safety.

There were at least 40 of them, all in various states of health.

When she stepped out of the tree line into the open and saw the shimmering shield of the main dome as it rose over the original Ark, Clarke almost cried. It reminded her of the first time she’d seen Camp Jaha that night with Anya, after they’d escaped Mt Weather.

She never thought she’d be happier than then to see home.

Two things happened at that exact moment.

They received a clear call from Raven, followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder that opened up the sky and sent forth a much heavier, faster shower of rain, right behind them.

“Open the dome!” Clarke cried into the radio, amidst a frenzy of screams and the bustle of bodies streaming towards the structure, trying to avoid the approaching wet.

An elderly man tripped and fell, his sight compromised by large blisters forming over his forehead and cheekbones. Clarke helped him to his feet and led him towards the gate, where, with relief, she spied her mother, Kane, Miller and Harper among others assisting the refugees as they entered in a panic.

In the chaos, Clarke had lost track of Bellamy and Octavia. She rushed back out through the crowd until she found them, bringing up the rear.

Octavia was striding on with Bellamy’s support, whilst he carried a small child of three or four.

Just as Clarke reached them a woman screamed from inside the dome, and tried to push past the guards.

“My boy!” the woman wailed. “My boy is still out there!”

“He was sleeping on their cart,” a man in front of them said. “He may have fallen out in the rush of the first rain.”

Clarke gasped. How could they leave a small boy behind?

Without hesitation Bellamy thrust the toddler he’d been carrying into Clarke’s arms.

“Take her,” he urged. “And Octavia too.”

“No,” Clarke was shaking her head even as the little girl wrapped her arms around her neck.

Behind Bellamy she could see the heavy, grey cloud travelling towards them.

“C’mon Clarke,” Octavia rasped, leaning into her for support.

“No,” Clarke repeated. “No, Bellamy, please. No.”

But Bellamy had already turned his back and was marching away from her, towards the thick curtain of rain and the dark empty treeline. “Keep them safe,” he said over his shoulder and she felt a cold shadow creep over her spine.

“No,no,no,no.” Clarke cried again and again, until she felt Miller’s strong hands dragging her into the dome and her mother removing the child from her embrace.

She ripped off her hazmat helmet and went immediately to the cell wall, pressing her hands and face against the translucent material, trying to get a glimpse of him.

She didn’t care that her exposed skin was covered in festering sores or that everyone in the direct vicinity could see how crazy she was behaving.

He had to survive.

Just as the first sheet of rain reached the gate, and the last of the refugees rushed in, Kane gave the order to activate and enclose the dome.

They couldn’t wait. It was too risky.

A thousand eyes looked up to the ceiling anxiously as the heavens finally hit them and they waited with bated breath to discover if Raven and Monty’s design would hold.

It did, for now, and the crowd erupted in cheers, hugging and high fiving each other, even with their horrific injuries.

One pair of eyes, however, remained fixated on the edge of the trees, their vision blurred by the rivulets of rain on the cells outside and the welling of tears that she refused to wipe away.

Chapter Text

Clarke stood with her face inches from the dome wall, the rawness of emotions she had felt seconds ago, slowly giving way to the fierce fighting instinct she so strongly relied on in this life.

“I have to go back out there,” she said to Abby as her mother attempted to cleanse the raw boils on her hands.

“Bellamy has his suit, Clarke, and he’s smart. He’ll find the boy and together they’ll find shelter.”

Clarke wrenched her hand away and returned it to the cell wall, the whole time her eyes fixated on the blurry edge of the forest outside the dome.

The thick, heavily falling rain obstructed her view, but she peered on anyway.

She didn’t want to think about the death wave still headed their way.

Black rain was one thing… but she wasn’t certain that any sort of shelter, even the dome, would be successful in saving them from the electrical tempest that hurled towards them.

Behind her, people rushed around frantically – assisting the refugees to remove their rain soaked outer clothing and head to the showers and medical bay.

“Raven!” Clarke snapped into the radio. “Why isn’t the de-contamination chamber prepped and ready at the gate? Bellamy could be back any minute. As soon as he appears, and is safe inside the dome, you must be a go with the EMP. If that storm front hits us, we need to use everything in our power to protect this place.”

She waited, but the radio remained silent.

“Clarke…” her mother sighed beside her, trying to take her hands in hers once more. “Listen to me.” But Clarke refused to take her eyes off the horizon. So, Abby just blurted it out anyway. “There is no de-contamination chamber.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke finally jerked to attention.

Rather than engaging with Abby, however, her eyes diverted to a figure beyond her mother, limping furiously towards them, ponytail swinging.

“Damnit Clarke I tried to tell you before you and Bellamy left,” Raven barked before she’d even reached the two of them.

Crestfallen, Clarke looked at her in shock. “But I saw the schematics. You showed them to me.”

  “Yeah, I had a plan. But we used all the materials we had to seal and ventilate the decontamination chamber for construction of the airlocks between the domes. We had to scramble as it was for those, and I’m still not convinced they’re 100%.”

“There has to be something you can use. I want you to put everything you have into this; don’t rest until you come up with a solution.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing the entire time you and Bellamy were off rescuing Octavia?” Raven said, resigned. “We’ve tried everything Clarke. There’s no way anyone caught outside the shelter can re-enter without the risk of the entire structure becoming contaminated.”

She knew Raven was right.

But Clarke was beyond reason.

“Don’t tell me there’s no way,” she threw up her arms. “If that were you out there and Bellamy in here – he’d find a way.”

Then noting her friend’s hopeless expression, Clarke switched tack.

Stepping forward she placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder and summoned up all the confidence and trust she could.

“You can do this Raven.”

But Raven shrugged her hand away and looked down to the ground.

“I’m sorry Clarke. I can’t,” she said flatly. “Not this time.”

Before Clarke could respond, there were cries all around them and people flocked to the dome wall, pointing and gasping and shaking their heads in dismay.

The two women shared a brief exchange before turning to look through the cells to the spectacle beyond.

***

Bellamy found the boy, Rigo, further from the dome than he had expected. He tracked a trail of abandoned carts, goods and frantically trampled foliage from the point where he, Clarke and Octavia had come across the group of refugees. As he hurried along, he searched and called out, all the while trying to keep an eye on the sky.

Eventually the boy called back and Bellamy followed the sound to a small cave where Rigo and two goats were sheltered from the rain.

“Don’t be afraid”, he told the 5yr old who gawked at Bellamy with wide, alarmed eyes, as he entered the cave in his suit.

Once out of the weather, he removed the helmet and shook the sweat form his hair, crouching in front of the grounder child.

“We’re going to go someplace safe, okay?”

“The Skakiru dome?” Rigo asked in English, no doubt thinking of his mother.

Bellamy sighed and stood up again, looking out through the mouth of the cave, cursing the depth of the forest for obscuring his view of the approaching death wave.

It didn’t matter.

The dome was out of the question.

Even in the chaos and commotion of his earlier arrival there, Bellamy had noted almost immediately the very obvious lack of a decontamination chamber at the gate.

Something must have happened to prevent them completing it.

He knew his friends. If Raven could do a thing - she would do it.

He also knew, that by now, the powers that be would have ordered the gate shut for the safety and preservation of all inside.

He knew this because if he had been in the same position, he would have made the same decision.

As the death wave encroached, the radioactive air preceded it, and there was too greater risk to wait for one or two outsiders.

They would have to try for the bunker.

It was their only hope.

At best they could ride out the destructive storm front, use the radio in the bunker to contact the dome and survive off the rations distributed there until Raven and Monty had completed the decontamination chamber.

At worst… well, Bellamy didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Put this on,” he calmly directed Rigo, kneeling before the boy to help him with the helmet. “We don’t have time to wait for a gap in the rain,” he explained just as calmly, showing him how to cover any exposed skin by tucking his hands into his sleeves and his pants into his boots.

“What about you?” the boy asked, looking pointedly at Bellamy’s unprotected head.

“I’ll be fine. You ready?” Rigo nodded. “Good,” Bellamy smiled. “Let’s go.”

It was impossible to tell how far away the death wave was, given the dense forest, but Bellamy knew they were at just as much risk of dying from over exposure to the rain and radioactive air before they even made it to the safety of the bunker.

He was in the midst of thanking Monty over and over again in his head for the idea of supplying the bunkers in case of an emergency, when they ran into a panic stricken party of deserters racing back towards the dome they had left some days ago.

“Wait!” Bellamy bellowed at them, but most did not stop, crashing their way through the forest in single-minded survival mode. “What are you doing?” he cried, grabbing onto the arm of a woman dashing past him.

“The storm comes,” she panted, wriggling from his grasp and continuing on her way. “We’re going back to the ark.”

“Stop!” Bellamy called out to her desperately and some of the others slowed. “You can’t go back,” he said to those now paying attention. “It’s not safe for them to let you in,” Bellamy added, rushing towards them.

One man and his wife and child stopped still, looking from Bellamy to the boy and back again.

“When they see how many we are, they will allow us entry,” someone said and some others agreed.

“Please,” Bellamy looked directly into the eyes of the grounder man before him. “If you want to live – you should come with us.”

“There’s no time for this,” a woman in Ice Nation dress proclaimed and the rest of them charged onwards.

“You can save us?” the grounder man asked.

“We have to hurry,” Bellamy barked and they barged through the bush in the direction of the bunker.

***

Scrambling across the field between the dome and the forest came a number of frantic figures, some faster than others, some tripping and falling,  all of them peering behind them at random intervals – their faces filled with dread.

One woman, dressed in Azgeda gear, raced up to the cell wall and repeatedly slammed her fist on the outer shell, the whole time screaming for the insiders to “open the gate!”

The sound of her voice failed to penetrate the dome walls, but the words she spoke in terror were clear to everyone close by.  

Soon, others joined her, until a whole section of the dome was covered by outsiders, begging in fear, to be allowed entry.

“That’s Olker,” Clarke overheard one woman say beside her. “She left a few weeks ago, before they placed the ban.”

“Let them in,” somebody else cried, and there was a scuffle at the gate.

Raven stood immobilised beside Clarke, eyes wide open as she took in all the faces of the people before her.

“I can’t save them,” she uttered in total despair.

Suddenly, the Ice Nation woman outside the dome turned to look over her shoulder and when she turned back again, she abruptly stopped banging. Something about her appearance was altered, Clarke noted. But before she could conclude what it was, the woman drew her dagger and drove it into her own heart, without any hint of hesitation.

Mouth agape, Clarke expelled a strangled cry as the woman’s body slumped to the ground, leaving a clear view of the scene that had provoked her so.

“Raven,” Clarke roared, her pragmatism kicking in. Gently shaking the shoulders of her petrified friend, she pointed to the tsunami like wave of electrical cloud rolling across the field towards them, the forest but a charred skeleton in its wake.

Spurred into action, Raven snatched the radio from Clarke’s hands.

“Monty, do you read?” she snapped urgently.

“I hear you Raven,” came the reply.

“Charge the EMP!”

“Already done,” Monty sent back.

The rest of the outsiders had by now, also realised their fate. Some of them dropped to their knees in resignation, others scrambled off, skirting the edge of the dome as if out running the tempest was an option. Others still continued to rage in vain at the cell wall.

A single tear escaped Raven’s eye as she slowly depressed the mic button on the radio and instructed Monty to pull the EMP lever on her command.

“In five, four…”

Outside the dome a shimmering blaze of radioactive heat, hurled towards the walls, searing everything in its path. Right in front of their eyes, the people outside began to burn and blister, their skin boiling and bursting open in seconds.

“Raven?” Clarke shouted in apprehension.

Inside the dome, people cried and held each other. One woman shielded her child’s eyes from the atrocity. Some turned away, unable to bear the brutality.

But as horrible as the scene before them was, Raven knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the tempest. They had to be extremely precise with the firing of the EMP. The cells were designed to protect them from the radiation, but the magnetic pulse was to repel the immense destruction of the death wave. If they released it too early, the storm front would simply ride over it, like a surfer paddling over a swell.

“Three, two…,”

They were surrounded now by an impenetrable darkness illuminated by fits of white and yellow lightning strikes that seemed to spark out in all directions. The front rolled closer and closer, rising above them like the mouth of a monster about to consume them.

“One! Now Monty!” Raven shouted into the radio.

And then she shut her eyes.

***

It wasn’t until the five of them were safe in the bunker and he had instructed the others to remove their contaminated clothes and bathe in the shower, that Bellamy was able to take stock of his own injuries.

Somehow, he had managed to avoid getting too wet and most of his wounds were superficial, bar some nasty ones on his scalp and a large cluster of blisters across one side of his face, probably caused by the water dripping from his hair.

Still, there was no time to wallow in the pain.

They had to treat themselves immediately.

Rigo and the others were largely unharmed, due to covering themselves with all manner of materials from their clothing, and scraps found along the way. Asha, the small grounder child, had been asleep the entire time and woke only when her mother, Katya, unwrapped her to wash. Her parents had cocooned Asha in some kind of industrial plastic that they had probably scrounged from an abandoned camp. Bellamy had to marvel at their resourcefulness. Yet, why leave the ark at all when they had been safe there? Especially with such a young child.

It was a question for another time.

“The air in here is not poisoned?” Val asked, peering around at the walls and the hatch as he spoke.

“We will know soon enough,” Bellamy answered grimly, searching through a cabinet for the radiation pills stocked there.

When eventually he found them, the box slipped from his hands in his haste and the packets of pills spilled out onto the floor.

Placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder to compose him, Val knelt down and with the help of Rigo, calmly and quietly collected the packets.

“You are sorely infected,” Val stated. His cool, gentle nature reminded Bellamy of Lincoln’s friend Nyko, and he wondered fleetingly if the two were related. “You should cleanse yourself too,” he gestured towards the shower.

Humbled, Bellamy nodded. “You and Katya take one each of the tablets,” he directed. “And half each for the children. There should be salve in there too,” he added, stepping out of his suit as carefully as he could. “Rub it lightly over any blisters.”

As he rinsed briefly, Bellamy tried to order his thoughts.

They would have to assess their supplies first and then use the radio provided to get in touch with the dome to let them know they were alive and how long they could survive in the bunker. 

But rations were only one part of the problem.

There was no way to tell if and when the death wave had passed, or whether the air outside, and even inside for that matter, was contaminated.

When the time came for them to leave the bunker for lack of supplies, how would he know if it was safe to do so?

Too early and they and the bunker would be irradiated. Too late and they might starve or die of thirst.

Bellamy dressed in fresh clothes from the supplies, suddenly invigorated when he remembered that he did, in fact, have instruments to measure the radiation levels. When he and Clarke had left the dome looking for Octavia, they had acted on a ruse that they were running a routine radiation check. He had carried a hand held device as part of the ploy and slipped it into his suit pocket once they were out of range of the gate guards.

Excited, he rummaged through the suit, grinning stupidly when his hands made contact with the meter.

Bellamy switched it on and while the others observed silently, he slowly drew the telescopic wand around the room, watching carefully as the readings lit up on the screen.

Content, he switched it off again to reserve battery power, and smiled at the four faces waiting in anticipation.

“The air is safe,” he answered as cheerfully as he could muster.

For now, he thought to himself.

After sharing the sketchy plan he had concocted in the shower, the others agreed it was a reasonable course of action. They all wanted to help, so as Bellamy set to work on the radio, the rest assisted by calculating their rations and supplies.

The radio was an older box style, one that had been spared for the bunker. Not that it made any difference to Bellamy. He knew how to use the machine, but if it came to repairing it, well, he was no Raven or Monty.

Sighing at the thought of his friends, Bellamy switched the device on and attempted to tune into something other than static.

In only a few seconds, garbled voices blared through the white noise and although he couldn’t pinpoint what they were saying Bellamy recognised Harper and Monty’s voices in the mix. Fiddling with the dial he tried to hone in on their conversation but there was too much chatter on the line.

“Monty,” came Harper’s strained voice. “…seeing this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he heard Monty reply. Then after a pause – “I love…but…important… everybody…have to… line clear… Raven.”

Thinking back, Bellamy remembered that Harper had been posted in the guard tower when he and Clarke had arrived at the dome with Octavia and the refugees. She must have been trying to communicate with Monty who would be in the command centre.

Suddenly Raven’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Monty do you read?”

And all other chatter ceased.

Thinking this was his best opportunity to try and reach the dome, Bellamy depressed the mic button and tried to make contact.

There was no response.

He tried again. Nothing.

Then Raven was talking once more, this time directing Monty to prepare the EMP. Before Bellamy could make another attempt, Raven proceeded to count down the seconds.

“The death wave must be right on them,” Bellamy muttered.

Katya, Val and the children stopped what they were doing and listened with intent.

“Will the cell wall hold?” Val asked, with the same collected tone he had used earlier.

“It has to,” Bellamy replied matter-of-factly.

He had complete faith in his friends, but the radioactive tempest was like nothing they had faced before.

Well, kinda.

As he listened carefully to Raven’s countdown, Bellamy conjured an image of Clarke in his mind, trying to remember what she looked like the very last moment he had laid eyes on her. She stood tall looking out over her people with her head high and her hair blowing in the breeze. Only, he slowly realised, it wasn’t the dome gate that she stood in front of in his vision, but the dropship door. And it wasn’t her people she was looking at, but him.

Bellamy gasped and tried to press the mic button one last time, only to hear Raven roar into the radio.

“Now Monty!”

There was a deafening crackle and right before the signal dropped into a sea of silence, Bellamy swore he heard Clarke recite a sombre “may we meet again,” in the background.

Chapter Text

42 DAYS AFTER PRAIMFAYA

The utter desolation of the landscape was incredibly disorientating to Bellamy.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d had the same persistent headache for the past six days, now finally out in the open after over a month sealed in the stuffy bunker, he felt nauseous, and confused.

There were no familiar landmarks.

Nothing was recognisable.

Earth was a stranger to him once again, as it had been when he first opened the dropship door and offered Octavia the world, despite Clarke’s warning.

It felt like an eternity ago.

Yet he still remembered vividly Clarke’s piercing eyes challenging him - all curious and cautious at the same time, full of energy and blinding earnest.

She was, and always would be, a marvel to him.

And he was going to tell her so, the moment they reunited inside the dome.

If he could find the dome.

Glancing at his companions Val, Katya, Asha and Rigo, Bellamy mustered all the confidence he had left in him and pointed towards a burnt out hill.

“This way,” he directed, turning away to cough after he inhaled a little too sharply.

The others followed dutifully, decked out in as much protective gear as they had managed from their short supply in the bunker, and from what Bellamy and Rigo had worn in. Val pulled a makeshift cart laden with other useful supplies like bedding, a tent they had sewn together from items in the bunker, a rain catcher they had made, the radio, some firewood and other bits and pieces that were too large for their backpacks.

They were all shells of their former selves. Without sunlight, on tight rations and with only stale recirculated air to breathe, they looked pale, thin and haggard. Somewhat like the underground residents of Mt Weather, Bellamy had mused more than once whilst looking in the mirror, his mind a flurry with memories of his time in the mountain complex. He had lost considerable weight and his body felt weak, despite his efforts to maintain a low energy, strength building exercise routine inside the bunker.

Out of habit, he ran his hands through his hair, stopping when he remembered he no longer had any hair. Katya had shaved it off for him only days after they had entered the bunker when he decided it would be easier to treat the wounds on his scalp and forehead without the curls in the way.

“Are you sure?” Katya questioned him as he handed her the scissors and razor that were stored in the bunker.

He could almost hear her disapproval as the curls fell to the floor.

In the past the gesture had given him reassurance. Now it only served to unnerve him more.

Grimacing, Bellamy fought off another bout of nausea as he ascended the hill in front of them.

He had to hold it together.

His friends were depending on him.

Despite insisting that they were all equally responsible for each other inside and outside of the bunker, it became apparent to Bellamy that his companions were relying on his earth skills to ensure their survival. Ironic, considering he had been on the planet less time than all of them, bar baby Asha.

Bellamy was a man of action and being enclosed in the bunker affected him more than he could have realised. It was, essentially, like being in prison. And whilst he’d been in similar situations on the ark and on earth, none of them seemed quite so futile.

What helped was having hope.

And a plan.  

Also, pleasantly – the company of children. Children had a way of making you live in the present.  For Bellamy it was important to create a sense of normalcy for Rigo and Asha. Which was difficult, considering Rigo had been so traumatically separated from his mother. But Bellamy had done this before with Octavia on the Ark. Plus, he saw it as an opportunity to found a strong relationship with the boy – build his trust and earn his respect.

Of course, he felt the same about his adult counterparts Katya and Val. Surprisingly they fell into an easy companionship, but despite their similar age and their mutual respect, Bellamy couldn’t shake the assumption of leadership they placed on him.

From what he had determined, the couple weren’t warriors before Praimfaya, but farmers. Their view of Skaikru was somewhat skewed by elaborate stories - stories that made him uncomfortable when they relayed them. Not only because of the embellished truth but also the content, which reminded him all too much of the people they’d lost, and the pain they’d caused since The 100 crash landed on the planet.

Every time Val mentioned ‘Wanheda’ Bellamy felt himself tense up. He hated the title, but the reminder of those dark days when Clarke had left him and the affect it had on their partnership, was worse than any title. It always created an unpleasant physical reaction in his body.

The choices he’d made in the aftermath would haunt him forever.

The only thing that quelled the discomfort in his body was the memory of Clarke wrapping her arms around his neck on the beach that night, so many moons ago.

She always seemed to know who he was and what he was capable of, better than he did himself.

He knew Clarke wouldn’t have given up on him this time either.

Every day for the last 46 days he’d imagined her arms wrapped around him once again, her face pressed in close, her smell reminding him of home.

Bellamy smiled at the thought as he reached the top of the burnt out hill and did a slow 360 degree survey of the surroundings.

Just as quickly as the smile had garnered his face, it fell away, for far off across the open plain on the edge of the dismembered forest, he found the dome.

Any thread of hope that he’d been hanging onto was yanked away, like someone being sucked out of an open airlock into the desolation of space.

Floated.

Octavia! his mind screamed. “Clarke!” he blurted out aloud.

He felt sick, lightheaded.

The dome was destroyed.

Nothing but rubble remained of the entire front wall.

It couldn’t be, Bellamy told himself. I would have known, I would have felt… something, he thought.

Gaping, he licked his lips - the distress of it all making him dry.

Behind him the others finally arrived, taking in the grim sight with despair and disbelief.

“What do we do now?” Rigo cried, unable to contain his emotion.

Bellamy stiffened his shoulders, hiked his pack higher on his back and prepared to move onward.

“We get closer,” he suggested huskily, also on the brink of becoming despondent “and assess the damage.”

Instead of moving forward, however, he felt himself falling. Not forward, like he’d tripped on something, not backward like someone had surprised him, but down - down onto the ground in a crumpled heap, as if his body had been demolished like an abandoned, decrepit building.

The last thing he was aware of was the memory of Clarke begging him not to go back out in the forest in search of Rigo.

If he had listened, he would be in the dome, dead.

But at least he and Clarke would be dead together.

FIVE YEARS LATER…

As she bounced along in the passenger seat of the rover, scanning the barren landscape for any signs of life, Clarke thanked Raven over and over again in her head for the GPS devices she had restored and upgraded in preparation for their re-entry into the world.

Without the technology they would have been helpless in this completely unfamiliar territory.

They had, of course, witnessed the destruction caused by the nuclear storm from inside the dome, but now out in the open, on her way to the island to scout for survivors or habitable land, Clarke realised how pervasive it truly had been.

Earth was like a different planet.

She could have easily felt dejected by the sight, but nothing was dampening her enthusiasm right now.

“You’re like a terrier,” Raven had said to her two days ago after the scout teams were announced at morning assembly. “Tongue out, tail wagging. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“What’s a terrier?” Jordan had asked as he sat beside them, more interested in the conversation than his breakfast, as usual.

Before any of the adults could answer, four year old Connie thoroughly enlightened her friend. “They’re old earth animals. People used them for hunting other animals. But not to eat - just for sport.”

“Have you been sneaking into history classes again?” Octavia asked with a firm but neutral tone.

“Uh…” Clarke coughed. “I may have been responsible for that.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow.

Clarke leaned forward to explain, hoping that the kids wouldn’t hear. “Kane was very convincing. He said she’s a bright learner and her presence helps the others maintain interest.”

It was well known that Kane had a soft spot for Octavia’s daughter Concordia. “She’s a storyteller, like her Uncle was,” he told Octavia once, when Connie was found to be skipping her chores to sit in on his lectures.

“She has her duties like the rest of us,” Octavia had replied and stormed off. Afterwards, she didn’t speak to anyone for days.

They all had their moments, Clarke sighed, squinting through the rover windscreen as beside her, Roan drove across the endless dunes outside.

Grief had a way of resurfacing at random, unwelcome times. Times that should have been celebratory, but instead were stark reminders of everyone and everything they’d lost. Times that might have been magical but instead were marred with the reality of what had come before and what lay ahead.

Clarke tried as hard as she could to be in the present. It helped to have the children around. There was something about kids that made you live in the minute - live fully for the now.

If she was being honest with herself though, she hadn’t really grieved for Bellamy, not like Octavia had, and was doing.

She hadn’t grieved for him because deep down inside, shielded away from the cynical eyes of others, she harboured a flicker of hope that Bellamy was still alive.

Because she was still breathing.

And if he wasn’t, she would know.  

It hadn’t always been like that for her. Things were rough for a long time, especially in the first month after they lost the front dome and a fifth of their population along with it.

It was hard then, like it had been way back when she closed the dropship door and they ignited the engines, not knowing if Bellamy was safe or not. Hard like it was when she was stuck in Mt Weather, with no way of knowing if he was alive.

But they had found each other then, and they would do it again.

Because he was her heart, and she would tell him that when they were reunited.

Clarke sighed again and Roan glanced sideways at her.

She knew the chance of Bellamy being alive was highly improbable and in her darkest days under the dome, those doubts consumed her.

But there had been glimmers of hope that kept her faith alive.

Like when she helped Octavia give birth to Concordia and was the first to see the little girl’s full head of dark curls. Or when the bats flew over the dome that first time two years ago and everybody cheered. There had been an audience at sunset ever since. Then there was the forest regrowth – a wondrous and ever present reminder of the resilience of nature.

Every day Clarke made sure to spend some time just staring out through the dome to study the new shoots forming across the field and beyond. It gave her strength, and most importantly kept the spark inside her burning.

“Scout Team A reporting in,” Miller’s voice crackled over the radio, disrupting Clarke from her thoughts. “Eden do you read?”

“Loud and clear. Go ahead Miller,” Raven replied from the control room back at the dome.

It was the first unscheduled contact any of the recon teams had made since the beginning of their mission.

Clarke turned up the volume as the rest of their crew crowded forward from the back of the rover, listening intently.

To their surprise, instead of continuing his report, Nate addressed them personally over the radio.

“Scout Team C, are you getting this?” There was a pause before, Miller, of all people, actually sounded like he was smiling. “Cause, Clarke,” he coughed. “You’re gonna want to hear this.”

Clarke gasped and snatched the mike from its holder on the rover dash. Beside her Roan pulled the vehicle to a sudden stop.

She couldn’t remember a time her voice sounded as shaky as it did when she managed a weak “copy that” back.

Behind Clarke the others started whispering excitedly and Roan had to shush them as Miller’s voice continued.

“As you know we’re in Sector 2,” Nate stated.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and licked her lips. The anticipation was making her dry.

Everybody knew Sector 2 was where Bellamy would have been when the death wave hit. It was the last known location of the young boy he had gone to rescue, and the most likely place they would have sought shelter.

Suddenly Clarke felt her body shudder and she dropped the mike.

It had to be good news, right? Or Miller wouldn’t sound so goddamn pleased with himself.

She must have been more obvious than she realised, as Harper reached over from the back and pressed Clarke’s shoulders reassuringly. “You got this,” she whispered to her friend, smiling that big, warm, Harper smile.

“We found the bunker,” were Nate’s next words.

They all held their breath.

“And… there’s something here for you, Clarke.”

Clarke clamped down on the mic button only to find it wouldn’t hold.

“For crying out loud Miller, spit it out man!” Raven had beaten her to the punch.

Roan grinned. “That’s my girl,” he crowed.

They all returned their attention to the radio.

“It’s a journal. Addressed to Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke was so anxious she thought she might pass out from the anticipation.

“From one Bellamy B. Blake.”

*

Later, after Clarke’s team also discovered evidence of survivors, and no bodies, at Becca’s bunker, they recessed for a meal and some rest.

Sitting by the edge of what would have been the bay, but was now a sand blown plain, Clarke tried to calm and order her thoughts.

Bellamy had survived Praimfaya.

Bellamy. Had. Survived.

According to Miller there had been others with him, including Rigo, the boy Bellamy had gone to rescue.

“They marked the wall with their names and the days they inhabited the bunker,” he said.

Both Clarke and Raven insisted Miller read at least the last page of the journal to find out what had happened.

Why had they left? Where did they go? What had become of them?

But Nate refused.

“There could be information in that journal that could lead to their rescue Miller,” Raven stated over the radio. “If we wait until Clarke has a chance to read it, it could be too late.”

“They left the bunker 46 days after Praimfaya, Reyes. That was five years ago. I don’t think two more days is gonna make any difference.”

At some point in the discussion Clarke lost it.

“Nate please,” she almost begged. “I get it. You want to honour Bellamy’s wishes, but I think you know as well as I do, that if Bellamy were here, living this situation right now, he’d read the damn journal!”

As she sat in the sand, processing the afternoon’s events while sifting the fine grains though her fingers, Clarke sensed a familiar wave of gloom rising from the pit of her stomach. The old doubts were kicking in.

She cursed herself.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. She was meant to be elated at the news of Bellamy’s survival. She was meant to be celebrating, and maybe even gloating in the fact that she hadn’t given up on him - she hadn’t stopped believing.

Trouble was, now that Clarke had been out of the dome and seen for herself what the second apocalypse had done to the earth, it was becoming harder and harder to keep that spark of hope inside her alight.

Sure, Bellamy had made it to the bunker and lived there, with others, hopefully well, for 46 days.

For that she was relieved, and grateful.

Without even reading the journal she could make a guess at why they had decided to leave. Air quality, lack of food, or both, could have driven them out. Bellamy wouldn’t have risked their lives if it wasn’t essential.

But, squinting through the glare at the vast nothingness before her, Clarke couldn’t help but agonise over the all-important question – where in the hell would they have sought refuge in this merciless, lifeless void?

Chapter Text

“So what you’re saying,” Octavia placed both hands on the round table in front of them, bracing herself while she took it all in. “Is that there’s no way of knowing where they might have went and whether or not they’re still there, if, in fact, they’re alive, given that the planet is entirely unlivable for as far as the scout teams have travelled?”

Raven crossed her arms in front of herself defensively and jutted out her chin like she was ready for a fight.

Across from her Roan made it clear that confrontation would be uncool right now.

If she wasn’t so wound up herself, Clarke could have laughed.

It never ceased to entertain her watching Raven and Roan partner each other through social situations.

They were the most unlikely couple, and yet, it worked.

“I don’t have time for this,” Octavia finished, turning her back on the rest of them and walking out with obvious antipathy.

“Octavia… wait!” Clarke called halfheartedly, sighing when her friend completely ignored her.

She would catch up with her later, at home, where they could talk freely, Clarke thought.

For as much as she wanted to be there for Octavia in this moment, Clarke couldn’t leave the meeting. She needed to be a part of this - needed to help figure out their next move.

Not for anybody else, but for herself.

Even if she too, wasn’t feeling confident about the state of affairs, being a part of the planning and execution was beginning to make her feel the most useful she had in the past five years.

She felt like she had purpose again.

And what could be more important than finding Bellamy?

If, as Octavia so bluntly noted, he was in fact, still alive.

“Let’s go over what we know of both surviving parties,” Kane said, bringing the group back to the task at hand. “So we can decide where we continue our search.”

They all took a deep breath.

“We know Bellamy and co exited their bunker, 46 days after Praimfaya, with the intention of seeking out the dome,” Raven offered.

“We also know they didn’t make it to the dome,” Miller stated. When Raven raised an eyebrow, he clarified. “Someone would have seen them.”

“Maybe it was night,” Raven rebutted.

“Not according to Bellamy’s journal,” Clarke attested.

She had spent hours mulling over what had happened, every day since reading those precious last few pages of Bellamy’s diary.

From what Clarke could gather from his notes of their final days underground, none of them had been gravely ill when they evacuated. There were the headaches and nausea he mentioned, but nothing serious, nothing that screamed extreme radiation sickness.

To her it sounded more like dehydration, hunger and probably lack of fresh oxygen and sunlight.

“The front dome would have been destroyed by then,” Roan surmised. “What if they saw it and believed Eden to be lost?”

Clarke had thought of that too.

“There’s no way Bellamy would have ruled Eden out so easily,” Abby countered with confidence. “His sister was here,” she added, and as she did she looked straight at Clarke. “This place meant everything to him.”

“I agree,” said Kane. “He would have investigated closely. It must have been something else.”

“Maybe they got lost,” Raven suggested. “You all said how disorienting it was out there.”

“You don’t think they would have found the place anyway, after five years?” Miller jibed. “It’s not like the bunker’s that far from the dome. They would have figured it out eventually, disoriented or otherwise.”

Clarke could sense the frustration rising.

“Something or someone must have stopped Bellamy and his friends reaching the dome,” she said firmly. “It’s the only logical explanation.”

The room went quiet as they all looked at each other, pondering Clarke’s somewhat gloomy opinion.

“Are you saying they were attacked and killed?” Raven asked, her voice rising.

Abby shook her head with certainty.

“We’ve searched a wide radius around both sites for human remains that match the timeframe and Bellamy’s description of his companions,” Abby reported. “If they were killed or died from natural or unnatural causes anywhere close to either area, we will find something. So far there’s nothing.”

“So they were attacked and taken somewhere,” Raven proposed.

“Where though?” Miller asked.

“And why would anybody do that?” Raven added. “Especially when there was nowhere but the dome to go.”

“Personally, I’d like to think anybody left out there after the 2^nd apocalypse would help each other out,” Kane contributed, trying to quell the bitter vibe that was beginning to brew.

“And yet,” Roan interjected. “When has that ever been the reality?”

Raven snorted in agreement.

“Roan’s right,” Clarke said sadly. “As much as we’ve enjoyed relative peace and goodwill in Eden these past five years, I think it would be naïve to expect that any survivors outside the dome had the same experience. Especially when we know so little about their situation.”

Kane sighed and nodded while the rest of them hung their heads.

 “As for the survivors at Becca’s bunker,” Clarke carried on, determined not to get stuck in a rut thinking about her dire theory. “It had to be Murphy and Emori.”

Raven and Miller nodded in agreement.

“Murphy spoke about going back there weeks before Praimfaya and we found the remains of supplies stolen from Eden’s stores just before he and Emori disappeared from the dome. Things only Murphy would have stolen.”

“But we have nothing on why they left the bunker or where they went?” Kane queried.

“Nothing,” Roan replied.

His answer brought them back to the same place they had begun.

As much as they could stand there and hypothesise, they had no solid leads.

No leads whatsoever.

But Clarke was adamant that she was going to find answers. She needed to know what had happened to Bellamy and the others.

She needed closure.

“Raven, tell me more about the drones,” she insisted. “How can they assist?”

“We’ve re-engineered three of them,” Raven replied. “They’re all fitted with basic triangulation software, two have cameras that will feedback to Eden’s mainframe and the night-sight is passable. In test conditions they lasted for 48hrs without needing to re-charge and they can travel at speeds up to 50 mph.”

“How far can they see?” Clarke asked.

“That depends on elevation and obstruction. And what exactly it is you want to see.”

“We could use them to scan for habitable land, where the survivors may have gone,” Clarke suggested. “If they can see far enough into the distance in all directions it would save us a lot of ground coverage in the rover.”

Raven shrugged. “It could work.”

“So, we elevate the drones and use the data they provide to plan our route,” Kane stated.

“What if they don’t find anything?” Roan asked, always the one to pose the question everybody else was thinking, but didn’t want to say aloud.

“Then we re-assess,” Abby chimed in.

“Let’s not forget that this is a two-fold operation,” Kane reminded them all. When he spoke again he looked directly at Clarke. “On one hand we’re looking for survivors, or evidence of survivors. On the other, we’re looking for untainted land with safe resources.”

“I feel like somehow,” Raven quipped sarcastically, “if we find one we’ll find the other.”

The room went dead silent.

“Unless there are no survivors,” Clarke said, trying to convince herself and everybody else that she had accepted that possible reality.

*

Later that day in the quarters she shared with Octavia and Concordia, Clarke pulled the notebook Bellamy had used as his journal out of her clothes drawer and held it close, before lovingly sliding it into her pack.

“Is that his?” Octavia asked from the doorway where she stood holding her daughter’s hand.

“Whose, mumma?” Concordia enquired, leaving her mother’s side to climb onto Clarke’s bed and investigate the items she was organising for her trip.

“Nevermind,” Octavia shrugged and slipped out of her coat.

“I want to come with you,” Concordia said with earnest as she palmed a sheathed knife Clarke had laid out on the bed.

“You’ll see it someday,” Clarke winked. “Besides, I need you to stay here and keep Viola alive,” Clarke nodded to the small flower plant growing in a makeshift hothouse by her bed. “You’re the only one I trust with her.”

“I bet where you’re going, there’ll be lots of violas,” Concordia said with eagerness.

Clarke certainly hoped so.

When Concordia was asleep, Clarke and Octavia sat down at their small, fold up table, in the tiny two bed unit they had shared for the last five years and poured each other a drink, just as they had done most nights since Connie had been weaned.

Their arrangement was cosy, convenient and it worked.

Since the closing of the dome, the two women had leant into each other more than either would have expected. Initially they had bonded over their shared loss of Bellamy, then the birth of Concordia had brought them closer still.

Clarke helped raise Connie, like she knew Bellamy would have, had he been there. It was Clarke who filled the little girl’s head with stories about her Uncle, given Octavia’s overwhelming inability to speak of him. And it was Clarke who encouraged Connie to trust her heart and instincts as well as her head, just like Bellamy.

When Octavia and Clarke sat down at the table that night they fell into conversation easily.

“I can’t lose him all over again Clarke,” Octavia revealed. “So if you find him… you find him alive and you bring him home.”

Clarke closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

“It might not be that simple,” she said.

“It’s that simple,” Octavia sculled the rest of her drink and placed the empty glass on the table. “You find anything less than Bellamy alive – I don’t wanna hear about it,” she swallowed and leant forward over the table to Clarke. “You understand right? You know I can’t go through that again.”

Clarke nodded.

“I hear you,” she said, wrapping her hands around Octavia’s in a gesture of solidarity.

SIX WEEKS LATER

Clarke sat around the fire staring absently into the almost diminished flames, flickering in the pre-dawn hours.

Behind her the others slept.

Glancing to her left she took in the fallen tree branch that Harper had dragged over to use as seating, and was instantly reminded of another campfire scene, one that felt like a lifetime ago.

Except that she could still see clearly the look of compassion and understanding etched on Bellamy’s face when he’d told her it “had to be done.”

He had always supported her when she had to make the hard choices.

He’d always strived to accept her logic without judgement, even when he himself, or his loved ones were compromised by her decision making.

And he always forgave her, eventually.

She wished she could forgive herself.

She wished she could forgive herself for everything she’d done since crash landing on earth, but most of all, for allowing him to walk away from the dome that day some five years ago.

Over the past six weeks of sitting in the rover, Clarke had plenty of time to wonder about what life might have looked like for Bellamy outside the bunker, if he had lived.

What she conjured wasn’t pretty.

For six weeks they had tramped through deserted and desolate landscapes to get to the small patches of living earth found by the drones.

It was remarkable to Clarke how random some of those patches were. How extraordinary it was that they had been spared. Yet most of them were pretty ordinary patches of land. Some water, little food, usually just trees or grassy plains.

Which brought her thoughts back to Bellamy and his companions.

How could they possibly have made it in such hostile terrain? Not only did Clarke’s crew have the aide of technology like the drones, but they also had the rover, making travel much more efficient.

Bellamy and his friends had none of that.

If they had been taken, like her theory suggested, life would have been even less hospitable for them.

Which was why Clarke had made her decision.

Today they would send up the drone for the last time.

They had spent six weeks hopping from one good patch of land to another, following footage and triangulation software from the drones. Each time they encountered a new scrap of forest or field, they came alive with hope – searching enthusiastically for water, food and signs of life. Whilst they’d found some relatively good resources, there wasn’t one single location that any of them considered productive enough to sustain a group of five or more for five years.

“Maybe they became nomadic,” Harper proposed at one point in time, after yet another unsuccessful search.

It wasn’t a bad theory, Clarke realised. It just didn’t really help their efforts.

If Bellamy and his friends had moved around instead of settling, they might never find them. For all they knew they could still be land hopping. It would be like trying to catch the end of a rainbow.

Finding evidence of their existence wasn’t easy either.

Sure they’d discovered fireplaces, makeshift shelters, trees that had been axed for firewood or bedding, and evidence of food and even human waste. But they had no way of knowing whether these things existed before or after the second apocalypse. It wasn’t like they were equipped with carbon dating kits or anything similarly useful.

They could all track, but none of them could track back five years.

And so, Clarke had decided the search for survivors would end today.

At least, for a while.

They had found plenty of small water sources and enough patches of land that they could cultivate for garden farms within a close proximity to Eden.

At least they wouldn’t be going home completely empty handed.

But they would be going home without Bellamy.

Clarke didn’t know how she would cope with that, especially when she saw Octavia.

Chapter Text

Bellamy surveyed the broken terrain as far as he could see, taking in the rugged ridges to his left and the deep ravines to his right.

The ground looked totally impassable.

Plus, he could see no promising patches of land in any direction, least of all back the way they had come.

Shifting his view from the landscape before him, Bellamy looked up to the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun and whistling as he searched the blue expanse.

A giant eagle soared into view, whistling back as it made wide, majestic circles above Bellamy’s head.

“Do your thing Aquila,” Bellamy spoke more to himself than the bird and made a hand gesture like an arrow shooting forth from a bow.

For a while Aquila continued soaring, but in continuously wider circles until at last she seemed to find some purpose, diving down a little closer to the tops of the ridges and gliding along them to a large crest at the edge of Bellamy’s sight.

Bellamy squinted, studying as closely as he could as the eagle flew low over the peak and disappeared from his view.

Settling back against a rock he scanned the terrain again, waiting and hoping, like he always did, that Aquila would return with good news.

For the sake of his sanity, and his heart.

For the sake of all of them.

But mostly to shut Murphy up.

Surprisingly, Bellamy didn’t have to wait too long and was startled to his feet by Aquila suddenly shooting back into the sky from the same spot where she had vanished several minutes earlier.

He had never seen her maneuver so swift and sharp while scouting.

Those type of moves were usually saved for hunting prey.

Squinting across the open distance, Bellamy realized quickly that Aquila was in fact hunting prey. Flying prey. He’d never seen her catch another bird before. Probably because they were rare and often only found in larger, less tainted patches of land.

It was hard to make out the other species, as it was a lot smaller than Aquila, but Bellamy took it as a sign that there was decent habitable land ahead and sat back to watch the spectacle as best he could.

It never ceased to amaze him the power and beauty of the incredible animal he had found as a juvenile and nursed and trained as his friend.

The connection he had with Aquila had kept him alive through some very dark days.

He owed her his life.

In some ways, they all owed her their life.

She was their seeker.

She sought out shelter, food and water and sometimes even safe passage.

And she hadn’t let them down once.

Watching in awe, Bellamy slowly began to see that something was not quite right about the bird Aquila was pursuing, or was it pursuing her? It was hard to tell from so far away, but the trajectory of the other bird’s flight looked strange, almost unnatural. Climbing onto the rock he was leaning against Bellamy tried to get a better look, but just as he did the two creatures collided and Aquila let out an unruly screech, flapped her wings wildly and then broke away from the melee.

Even from where he stood he could tell by the way she flew that Aquila had something in her talons.

Out over the crest, the other bird seemed to plummet straight from the sky.

*

The events of the morning had left them all reeling with a mixture of emotions.

When the drone came down, there was confusion, disappointment and anger, as well as an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

How could this happen on their last day out in the field?

For Clarke, it was a fitting end to the assignment.

It was a mission that had been riddled with highs and lows, uncertainty and false hope.

She was a little puzzled as to how the drone had come down, and why exactly it was missing parts, but honestly she was too tired to investigate.

Riding the wave of ups and downs on this expedition had exhausted her.

The past five years of peace had altered her ability to withstand such stress.

Then Raven had radioed.

“I need you to send the second drone up,” she requested excitedly. “ASAP!”

“The camera’s defunct,” Miller replied.

“Damnitt!” Raven muttered. “You need to get someone out there, as soon as you can, get up high and scout the area to the west.”

“What’s going on?” Clarke asked, having been notified by Harper that Raven had made contact.

It was the first time the engineer had responded to any of their recon footage. Usually they radioed in when they were ready to configure the findings.

“The drone was attacked.”

*

Returning to his friends, Bellamy could hardly contain his excitement, let alone the huge grin that spread from his mouth, to his cheeks and eyes, finally settling there with a sparkle.

“Oh great,” Murphy griped, “the last time you had that look on your face, we ate nothing but baked beans for a month. And it wasn’t pretty.”

Slowly, the others abandoned their task of creating a safe rope, harness and platform pulley system down the ravine, in order to gather around Bellamy and hear his news.

“What did you find?” Rigo asked, eager and hesitant at the same time.

“Actually, it’s something Aquila found,” Bellamy quipped, scruffing the young man’s hair. “Or rather, obtained.”

“Yeah, yeah – the bird’s a genius, we’ve heard it all before flyboy. Just show us the goods,” Murphy muttered.

Grinning an even greater grin, Bellamy thrust Aquila’s prize at the others, holding it triumphantly in his hands at the centre of the circle while his people gawked in confusion.

“A piece of scrap metal?” Murphy almost squeaked. “I think you’ve finally lost the –“

Before Murphy could finish however, Emori pushed past him to get a better look at the object.

“This is not just any old piece of scrap metal, John.” She said quietly.

Bellamy smiled and nodded in anticipation.

“This is a part of the drones ALIE used.”

The group fell silent.

“ALIE?” Val finally enquired. “As in the AI you told us about?”

“I don’t get it,” Murphy shrugged. “I mean, so what? Somebody found the drones in the wreckage of Becca’s lab and…”

“Not possible,” Bellamy said matter-of-factly, the look of absolute certitude on his face downright intimidating.

“Exactly what I was getting at, if you hadn’t interrupted,” Murphy quipped.

“Shutup John.” Emori replied. “You misunderstand Bellamy. It’s not possible for somebody to have found them at the lab, because Monty collected all of Becca’s drones while the dome was being built, thinking they might be useful.”

Bellamy nodded confidently in Emori’s direction.

“So…” Murphy continued with a dramatic tone to his voice, “what you’re saying is that Monty sent the drone… from beyond his grave.”

“What I’m saying,” Bellamy smirked, passing the metal part to Emori and stepping away from the crowd towards the ridge where Aquila had encountered the flying robot, “is that they’re alive. And they’re looking for us.”

*

Everything happened so fast after Raven’s initial call.

One minute they were wallowing in misery over the mission ending so badly, the next they were riding across bare, rocky gullies to get to the ravine where Raven had seen evidence of human activity on the drone footage.

After discussing the circumstances surrounding the attack of the drone, Raven had instructed Clarke on how to use parts from the second drone to repair the first, in order to utilize the functioning camera. It wasn’t perfect, but the thing could fly and feed images back to Eden. That was all they needed.

They sent it up, following navigational data from Raven to follow the ridgeline where she had estimated the bird on the original recording had flown from.

At the end of the ridgeline at the top of a sheer escarpment, Raven was able to identify rock climbing ropes and pulleys, as well as zoom in on recent footprint evidence of a large party of people. Children included.

“There’s gotta be fifty or more,” Raven chimed happily, having asked Monty to also assess the footage and cross-check her conclusions.

“And it’s recent, Clarke” Monty added jovially. “We’re talking two or less hours recent!”

Of course, that had spurred the scout team on beyond measure.

Dusk was approaching but despite Raven’s prediction that the escarpment was two or three hours away, over very unforgiving terrain, they all agreed to leave immediatey - their determination heightened by the drone’s discovery. 

It was well into the evening when they steered the rover through a narrow chasm that opened up into a small clearing surrounded by surprisingly dense forest. At the back of the clearing, looming in front of them was a precipitous cliff face that seemed to continue high up into the night sky, beyond the stars.

“Look,” Harper pointed from the back seat of the rover, leaning forward over Clarke’s shoulder. “Look!”

Standing at the opening to the clearing, startled by the Rover’s powerful headlights, stood a tall, lean figure, shielding his face with his hand.

Beyond him, the crew could make out other figures slowly emerging from the trees and makeshift shelters encircling the clearing. A couple of small campfires glowed a welcoming amber hue and clothes hung on temporary clotheslines.

Miller pulled the Rover to a stop and Clarke cranked the door open, jumped down from the cab and stepped out in front of the vehicle.

“Turn the lights down,” she commanded, and waited while Miller adjusted the beams.

“Clarke Griffin?” Murphy’s voice sneered in cheerful disbelief. “Of course you’re still alive!”

Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Clarke said the first thing that came into her head, “I could say the same about you – John Murphy.”

Behind her, the others had clambered out of the back and were hovering in the shadows.

“Murphy?” somebody muttered. “Holy hell. We did it. We found them.”

Murphy shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head at Clarke as he sauntered towards them.

“Bellamy is gonna shit bricks when he gets back here and sees you. I suppose he was right about that drone part. How long have you guys been searching for us? Wait, let me guess - not long enough! Could have come five years earlier is all I’m saying…”

Murphy kept talking, but Clarke didn’t hear anything beyond “Bellamy.”

The radio that she had been using to continuously update a very excited Raven slipped from her hands as her body became completely motionless, fixed to the spot.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Everything around her grew silent and her sight went fuzzy.

Bellamy’s alive, her head screamed, but her mouth stayed shut.

She needed to lay eyes on him.

Right now.

“Nice to see you too, Griffin,” Murphy quipped quietly as he elbowed her affectionately on his way to shake Miller’s hand.

“Where is he?” Clarke managed to ask.

Murphy smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but Emori came up beside him, shoved him aside like only Emori could, and took Clarke’s arm.

“Never mind John,” she told Clarke as she guided her to a large boulder and sat her down. “I swear he’s gotten snarkier since we escaped. You’d think he’d be grateful, even happy now he has his freedom back, but, no, not John. Always gotta go against the grain.”

Clarke had to smile at the accuracy of that statement.

“That’s better. Now you don’t look so much like you just saw a ghost,” Emori smiled back. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she said warmly. “Bellamy told us he saw the dome in ruins all those years ago, but I don’t think he truly believed it, not for one second. That’s where he’s been leading us you know, much to John’s annoyance.”

“Where is he Emori?” Clarke asked again softly as she sipped a bitter tasting liquid that the other woman had thrust into her hands. All around them women, men and children had gathered, huddling together or stepping forward in curiosity. One young man seemed particularly interested in Clarke.

Before Emori could answer, there was a loud thrashing sound above Clarke, and she felt the air behind her gust wildly like someone was furiously flapping a giant fan.

Emori pulled Clarke to her feet and away from the boulder just as Harper aimed her gun above and behind Clarke’s head.

“Don’t shoot!” A voice from the cliff end of the clearing commanded.

Harper lowered her weapon, instantly recognising the voice.

Clarke turned just in time to see a giant eagle tuck its wings away and perch on the back of the huge rock, its eyes boring into her, but its head cocked to the side facing the cliff, as if waiting for the voice to tell it what to do.

Clarke wanted to hear that voice again too.

She needed to hear it again - to know that she wasn’t imagining it.

Suddenly the eagle bobbed up and down in anticipation and Clarke looked beyond it, just as a figure emerged into the Rover’s light.

“Bellamy?” Miller called, squinting through the shadows.

“It’s really him,” Harper whispered in Clarke’s ear as she rushed forward with the others to greet their friend, crowding around him with excitement, offering handshakes, high fives and hugs.

Clarke hung back, bewildered by the eagle who was now keeping a close eye on the crowd surrounding Bellamy and more than slightly amused by Murphy moaning in the background that their friends weren’t nearly as happy to see him, as they were Bellamy.

Although the eagle had stopped glaring, Clarke could still feel eyes on her. It wasn’t until the crowd parted and Bellamy stepped towards her that she realised he had been watching her the whole time.

She had never seen him look so purposeful, so driven as when he strode toward her in that moment.

Not in all the times he was protecting his sister.

Not in any of the battles they had fought together.

This was a new, determined and downright indomitable Bellamy.

“Hello princess,” he said with slow deliberation when he stood within arm’s reach of her.

Tears trailed down her face but Clarke couldn’t help but crack a smile at the old nickname, for despite all its connotations, she knew it was a subliminal message from Bellamy that while so much had changed, nothing really had.

Not between them anyway.

They had found each other once more.

They were together again.

And no matter what came their way, they would be okay.

Clarke started to say hello back, but before she could, Bellamy slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her so close that the heels of her feet lifted off the ground and her cheek rested on his chest.

More tears rolled along her nose, over her mouth, onto her chin and into the collar of Bellamy’s shirt.

She was a mess.

Sniffling, Clarke snuggled in and wrapped her own arms around Bellamy’s lower back. He responded by stepping impossibly closer, planting her feet back on the ground and drawing their entire torsos into each other.

Beside them the eagle suddenly screeched and let loose its wings, sending a gush of air that blew back Clarke’s hair and coat.

“Careful who you hug around here,” Murphy coughed, interrupting the moment. “Aquila gets a little jealous, anyone comes too close to Bellamy.”

The others laughed and Bellamy scoffed. As they parted, they realised their friends were standing around grinning stupidly at them.

Nothing really had changed.

“Don’t mind Murphy,” Bellamy said with a casual flick of his shoulder.

“Never have,” Clarke replied.

Nothing at all.

Chapter Text

It felt surreal.

And yet here they were, tucked in each other’s arms, blankets barely covering their naked bodies, trying to make sense of it all in between soft kisses and gentle caresses.

Bellamy had hardly stopped touching Clarke since that evening in the opening when he greeted her with his all-encompassing embrace.

Not that she was complaining.

At first it had been relief and joy - the sheer euphoria of their situation that kept them physically close.

Then it became unconscious. They gripped each other’s hands from time to time, stood side by side with shoulders and arms touching, hugged repeatedly and stayed as close as they could.

As if they were scared to let go of each other.

Eventually however, once they had returned to the dome, and the second wave of excitement from all the inhabitants had lulled, they realised they could no longer excuse their magnetism as purely celebratory or a security measure.

Things got heavy hard and fast after that.

Clarke couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so out of control and yet so completely at peace. They would be a hot, rambling mess of arms and legs and sweat and sex and then… she would collapse on Bellamy’s chest, totally satiated, and he would curl her hair behind her ear and plant light kisses across the top of her shoulder while his other hand rested reassuringly in the small of her back.

“Next apocalypse, can I just stay right here, until the end of time?” Bellamy would ask with his chin resting on the top of her head. Clarke’s heart would flutter and her eyes well up.

At this point they would either fall asleep in each other’s arms, be reinvigorated and begin another round of raunchiness, tell stories about their time apart or get busted by Octavia and Concordia arriving home.

“I think it’s time you two got your own room!” Octavia protested on one such occasion, trying to shield her daughter from the debauchery on display.

“Can I go with them?” Connie cried, peeking around from behind Octavia’s legs.

Bellamy, naturally, liked nothing more than hearing stories about his niece. Her birth, what she was like as a baby, how she had grown and developed into the curious and courageous four-year-old whom he spent every spare minute of his time building a relationship with.

Not that it took long for the two of them to bond. Bellamy had always had a way with people, kids especially. But, to a degree, they both had Clarke to thank. All the evenings she had spent filling Connie’s head with images of her Uncle Bellamy had given the girl a pretty good idea of who he was and what he stood for. On top of this, Clarke’s memories of Connie gave Bellamy a great insight into the child’s personality and interests. In short, Clarke had built them both a strong foundation for their burgeoning friendship.

As for Clarke, she loved it most when Bellamy spoke about Rigo or Aquila. He had raised both the boy and the eagle and it was obvious his love and commitment for the two of them.

Whilst Bellamy would always be his guide through life, since returning to the dome, Rigo had been reunited with his mother. Clarke couldn’t remember a more emotional scene in her entire existence – except for maybe the moment Octavia saw her brother, whom she had grieved over for five long years.

All the guilt, anger and sadness Octavia had carried for those five years seemed to erupt out of her in that one moment, pouring through every facet of her body to the point where she collapsed with emotional exhaustion in Bellamy’s arms, and the two of them ended up embracing in the dirt.

Behind them Connie stood patiently by Abby’s side until she could no longer stand the image of her always stoic mother crying on the ground. She raced over and wrapped her arms around Octavia’s back, setting off a new wave of emotions between the trio.

It was impossible, even as a bystander, not to be drawn into the intensity of the reunion, and Clarke was not the only one wiping her eyes and sniffing uncontrollably.

There wasn’t a single soul present who was unaware of the Blakes’ story. Bellamy had become somewhat of a legend amongst the people of Eden, and even children born after the closing of the dome, knew of the sacrifice he had made in order to save the little boy lost.

Within the 47 strong members of the group Clarke and the others had found, everybody knew the history of his time on Earth. He was their leader after all.

Of course not all of the stories Bellamy and Clarke told each other about their five years apart were easy to tell.

Clarke was used to talking about the dome collapse, as she spoke every year at their annual remembrance event, but it still hurt to discuss the deaths of so many of their loved ones. Especially to Bellamy, who also had a connection to many of those they lost, including Jaha, Luna, Nathan’s dad, and Bryan… not to mention Jasper.

“You know,” Clarke said gently after Bellamy had taken in the news of his friend Jasper. “I was angry for weeks because of the lack of a decontamination chamber to get you home.” She took a deep breath and let it out again. “But if Raven and Monty hadn’t used all the materials we had to build the airlocks between the domes… we would have all died.”

“I was working on those airlocks just before Octavia disappeared to the cave,” Bellamy mused. It was strange and unnerving, and yet sometimes bizarrely comforting how everything was connected.

It took Bellamy a while to divulge the details of his turbulent time outside the dome. There was a lot more to tell of course, given that life inside the arc after the first dome collapsed moved fairly slowly and was largely uneventful.

Until relatively recently, when Bellamy and his people had escaped, most of their story was a traumatic tale of incarceration and abuse. He hadn’t really talked about it a lot before and it was difficult to do so.

There was no victory in Clarke’s realisation that her theory about Bellamy and his friends being captured was correct. Especially once she discovered the specifics of their experience.

Thankfully for Bellamy, some of the stories were told collectively around one of Eden’s communal firepits, by other members of the party. Surprisingly, Murphy gravitated towards the role of narrator rather naturally. He’d never seemed to care too much for storytelling, preferring to always look forward rather than back. But Clarke found his methods refreshing. He had a way of presenting the facts objectively but with enough reverence for the serious stuff and plenty of sarcasm and wit thrown in. People found his renditions entertaining and it wasn’t long before he was unofficially crowned Eden’s resident “bard”.

It was Murphy who gave the scout crew their first insight into what had happened after the outsiders had left their respective bunkers. On their return to Eden there had been plenty of time for filling in the gaps, and Clarke’s crew, who had been so deeply involved in the search mission, were understandably curious about the mysterious circumstances.

“How did you not make it to the dome?” Miller asked one night once they were settled into camp and sitting around the fire.

Clarke felt Bellamy tense up beside her as he stared into the fire for what felt like a long time before trailing his eyes over to Murphy somewhat expectantly.

“We were kidnapped, that’s how,” Murphy stated, poking absently at the coals with a long, lean stick.

“But by who?” Harper added. “And why?”

“A pack of psychopaths,” Murphy replied. “Because they could.”

“When we thought that the dome had collapsed,” Val contributed, “Bellamy fell unconscious and we decided to take him back to the bunker. On our way there we were ambushed by a deranged group who already had John and Emori, as well as countless others, captive.”

Murphy sighed and threw the poker stick into the flames. “They were psychopaths.” He repeated. “A bunch of reaper try-hards who took the chip but somehow didn’t get the message that we destroyed ALIE. They had one code and that was to kidnap, rape, torture, murder and enslave their own people, or anybody they happened to come across.”

The scout crew fell silent.

Clarke found Bellamy’s hand clenched into a fist and smoothed her own over it. She felt him lean into her a little as Murphy continued to tell them about their harrowing journey throughout the tainted landscape, forced to, among other horrors, hunt and scavenge for their captors whilst starving and falling ill themselves.

It was astonishing any of them had survived.

“We lost many,” Val said sadly. Murphy, sitting beside him did not hesitate to place a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. At the same time nodding in solidarity with Bellamy as they made eye contact.

To Clarke and her crew it was clear that the survivors were a tight knit group. Other than Bellamy and Murphy’s playful snarkiness she had not seen or heard a single disagreement between their people the entire journey. Rather, they worked in unity and supported each other instinctively.

“We would have lost many more and we’d still be enslaved if it weren’t for Bellamy,” Rigo spoke up, his voice full of pride and loyalty.

Around the fire most nodded and some even cheered.

But Bellamy shook his head and they hushed quickly.

“We survive together,” he said with strength and conviction.

There were more nods and cheers.

“With trust in each other and the lay of the land…” Bellamy continued and the rest of the group joined in with vigour.

“We open our minds and keep hope in our hearts, fighting to be free as we stand hand in hand.”

The crowd stopped but to Clarke’s surprise Val stood, tipped his head to the ground and spoke quietly but with a sorrowful confidence.

“And we remember those who are already free.”

“We remember,” the people repeated, solemnly respectful.

Much later, back at Eden, Clarke discovered that perhaps Bellamy had more to do with their escape than he was letting on. The question had been asked many times on the return trip as to how they got away, but Bellamy had always shut it down with a quick response.

“We had inside help, excellent preparation and a lot of patience. End of story.”

But Clarke had heard the whispers and seen the others telling tales. She knew there was more to it.

She decided to wait until Bellamy was ready, and not force the issue. Their bond was much more important than any information she may or may not need to know.

One day, not long after Bellamy and Clarke had consummated their feelings for each other, Clarke was eating lunch with her friends when Harper piped up.

“I’m so happy for both of you,” she said with a huge grin on her face, “After everything you’ve been through.”

The others agreed and Emori chimed in.

“We’re relieved Bellamy has found comfort in your arms Clarke, for a while there we thought he’d never heal from the abuse he suffered.”

“Yeah, that bitch Echo used him like a toy,” Clarke thought she heard someone say.

Dumbfounded, Clarke opened her mouth to query but was cut off by Murphy.

“Well from what Octavia’s been telling everybody, they’re definitely making up for lost time!” he jeered.

The others laughed and the table erupted into a cacophony of lewd jokes and gestures.

After lunch, Murphy came quietly up to Clarke and told her with reassurance that she was doing the right thing, waiting for Bellamy to tell his story. He said that anything she heard from the others was a twisted version of the truth and the only way he knew was because he’d given Bellamy the time and space to open up. Their friendship had been stronger ever since.

“I know you suffered at the hands of Ontari,” Clarke said softly. “Tell me it wasn’t like that.”

Murphy sighed.

“It was worse.” Clarke gasped. “You have to remember,” Murphy continued, “we were prisoners for four years. What happened to Bellamy happened over a long period of time, when hope was already a fleeting concept for most of us. The only reason he held his shit together was to save us all, and get home to you and Octavia.”

And that’s what he’d done - because here they were.

Clarke decided she didn’t need to know more, but she’d listen if Bellamy even needed to tell it.

“I used her too you know,” he blurted out one night when they were lying in bed in their new digs.

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked after a short pause.

“Echo. I used her for intel to build up our resistance. She was the inside help.”

“I don’t understand why she was with them in the first place, Echo never took the chip, how was she affected?” Clarke managed.

“She was a spy Clarke. When she saw what they were doing to people after Primfaya, she decided she needed to be one of them to survive. So she became one of them.”

“And they never suspected?”

Bellamy shrugged.

“They weren’t like us Clarke, their ability to think like humans was shattered by the chip and what it did to their system. They were animals. Maybe they did sniff her out from time to time but she made herself indispensable. Hunting food, hunting survivors, turning in traitors and generally keeping us all under her watchful eye.”

“Especially you?” Clarke’s voice caught in her throat.

“Yeah,” Bellamy coughed and turned on his side to face her, “especially me.”

“I don’t know how she lived with herself,” Clarke replied, gently tracing her fingers over the radiation scars on his forehead.

“She didn’t - in the end. She torched the camp and sacrificed herself to help set us free.”

Clarke felt anger bubbling up inside her.

“She abused you Bellamy.”

“What she did was wrong,” he took her arm “and it turned her into a monster. I will never make her a martyr Clarke, but we’ve all done things. I’ve found forgiveness because without it I couldn’t have found you,” he wept a single tear and pulled her into him. “I wouldn’t be holding you now if I hadn’t let go.”

“I wish I could have been there, to bare some of it for you,” Clarke said, in tears.

“No Clarke. I’m glad you weren’t.”

There would always be a five year chasm between them. A gaping hole in their shared timelines in which neither of them could ever truly know what life was like for the other.

But they had Eden now and they had the future.

Garden camps had already been set up in the patches of land Clarke and her crew had explored. People were moving on with their lives - getting married, having babies, rebuilding their world and doing their best to let go.

It was true that nothing much was really different for them. And yet so much was not the same.

The events of the past five years had personally transformed them. Being separated had altered the course of their lives and yet still they had come back to each other.

And now their relationship had changed too.

Well, it had evolved.

In love they had found their new shore, and they were ready to face whatever came their way.

Together.