Hiii! This was inspired by a Bellarke fanvid on Youtube that used one of my favorite songs. As far as the timeline, I'm kind of imagining it set in the middle of spring, the year after our current place in the show. Which means that everything going on in the show right now is over and done with, and I'm sorry to any Finn lovers, cuz he doesn't really have a place in this story. I don't know if I'll even end up mentioning him. This is gonna be two chapters for sure, three chapters max. Let me know your thoughts! I take criticism just as well as compliments! So do both!

The realization hits her like a freight train.

She walks out of her tent one morning, stretching her arms to the sky to work out the knots in her back, and in a brief glance over the camp it becomes so obvious that she can't believe it took her this long to see it.

This "Camp Jaha".

This settlement.

The Guard, that somehow remains in full force despite plummeting thousands of miles down from the sky.

The hunk of metal that now serves as an infirmary and meeting place for the council.

A council made up of seven adults who came to Earth through the Exodus Charter.

With its Chancellor (she barely even acknowledges Abby as her mother anymore) they still hold supreme rule over the camp and every person in it. As if they're still on the Ark. It's a small group of people, a minority, who make the decisions for the majority. The opinions of seven people create the laws for everyone.

None of the 100, who suddenly started being treated as the delinquents they used to be, have ever been allowed to sit in in their daily meetings. Not even her, the daughter of the chancellor and essentially the liaison between they and the grounders. They're merely juveniles, after all. Just children who don't have any idea how to run a soon-to-be-village. They say it's best to leave it to the people who know what they're doing.

Not a single one of them is allowed a say in any matter. They were dropped down here with little more than tents and tarps, and they learned how to hunt, how to find water, how to treat wounds... how to survive. They established order and gave people jobs and duties. They trained people to do the tasks they needed done, and when the rest of the Ark fell from the sky, they taught those survivors how to do these things too. Because the guinea pigs didn't die, everyone else was able to live.

It was their sacrifices that brought them peace with the grounders, who were the only reason the Exodus survivors made it through the winter. It was Clarke and Lincoln's knowledge of the mountain men that allowed them to get their people out. She and Bellamy's way of leading created a system of integration and equality that couldn't care less about social standing. They were all technically criminals. None of them could point fingers without pointing right back at themself.

But now, after all the progress they've made, all the risks they've taken and the sacrifices they've made, after all the blood and sweat and tears, it's exactly how it used to be.

Her head is spinning, her heart is racing, and as she continues to look over the camp her eyes land the on the perimeter fence. It was the first thing constructed by the Exodus survivors. The barrier between them and everything they don't know. Tall, strong, electrified. Perfect for keeping the dangers out.

And as her eyes once again rest on the handful of guards stationed at the gate, she realizes with startling clarity that it's also perfect for keeping them in.

After everything they've done.

After falling thousands of miles to a land in a place they had only ever read about, a land they were supposed to die on. (And honestly, there was more than one time that they should have.)

After fighting two wars, and losing countless lives.

After she jumped off a goddamn cliff to escape with Anya, and after killing a boy she once loved to solidify the peace between both of their people.

They were still stuck in a prison.

And suddenly it becomes very clear, why even after spending more than 6 months in this camp, she has yet to call it home. It's not because it's still new. They've had plenty of time to adjust. No matter how long they've been here or how long they eventually stay, something has always been off, even after the truce was finalized and her people were rescued and everything calmed down.

Bellamy paces around restlessly, as do Miller and the rest of the hunters and guards the two of them trained. It's very rare that they're allowed to guard the perimeter fence or join hunting expeditions. It's too dangerous to give children guns, after all. She sees the frustration on Bellamy's face everytime his suggestions are ignored. He tries to tell them ways of trapping or spearing animals so they don't have to waste the ammo, but his advice is never heeded and most days he ends up stomping off to find her in the med-bay (where she's only ever allowed to treat minor cases anymore) and plopping down on the floor with a sigh.

Monty and Jasper aren't allowed to tinker with the electronics or rebuild the still that was destroyed back at the dropship, so more than once she's caught them sabotaging various things around camp just for the fun of causing trouble. The food prep crews and plant gatherers and water boilers and everyone else have all found themselves jobless, and if not for Wick's obvious attraction to Raven, she'd be out of a job too. The whole lot of them have nothing to do but sit idly around camp, and although this is the safest their lives have been since they got here, they've never been so dispirited.

And now, she recognizes that it's simply because none of this is theirs.

The time they spent on the ground gave them the chance they so desperately wanted: The chance to separate from the injustices imposed on the Ark. The 100 and the Exodus survivors all came from the same place, but they were no longer the same people. When 98 teenagers set foot on the ground after being dropped from space, of course there were fights and hormones and conflicts. But the one thing they always agreed on was down here, it would not be the authoritarian Ark all over again. It would be better.

No, none of this belongs to them. It belongs to the Ark, and those who still believe in the system of government that came down with it.

But that no longer includes what remains of the first sky people to touch the earth.

They got a taste of what could be. What could be accomplished when everyone united. They learned what it meant to defend what was important to you, to fight for what they believed in.

They learned the meaning of family.

They became one.

She had never been more sure of anything in her life. Never more determined than she was in this moment.

It was going to be hard as hell, but she is taking her people home.

He's sitting in his cabin fiddling with a piece of wood and a homemade knife. There's actually more than a dozen carvings sitting at the foot of his bed, all showing varying levels of skill. The pieces at the very bottom, the first ones he ever did, are so bad it's comical. Wood-carving definitely takes time and practice.

But it's not exactly like he's got anywhere else he has to be.

And just like that his mood turns sour and his crude likeness of the panther he killed so long ago is spiraling across his tent. He runs his hands roughly through his hair as he sighs.

It's been like this since he and Clarke got their people out of Mt. Weather. Months of carving up chunks of wood instead of hunting and patrolling and actually doing something that matters. He's lucky to get dish duty anymore.

He stands up to leave his tent right when Clarke walks in.

"Come to the drop ship with me. We have work to do." She's breathless. Beautiful, his mind corrects him. Her eyes are shining with something that he hasn't seen from any of the 100 for a long time.

Excitement. Hope.

A smile is growing on his face before he even asks her why.