Rated M for later chapters. Mostly canon relationships, except for eventual Bellarke. I own nothing!
*Note: Westward expansion as we know it did not happen in this alternate universe. Any movement beyond the Mississippi did not occur until after the Civil War, so at the time this story takes place, the West is still completely wild and unexplored. No Lewis and Clark, no Trail of Tears, no French trappers, no missionaries, no Conquistadors, no knowledge of what's out there at all.
I feel the sun on my face. I see trees all around me. The scent of wild flowers on a breeze. It's so beautiful. In this moment, I can pretend I'm not shut away in this muggy cell. It's been 5 years since Mr. Lincoln freed the slaves and was killed for it. The Union has come out the victor, but the sheer number of casualties on both sides have destroyed an entire generation of Americans, leaving a pall of defeat over everything. Despite almost everyone I know joining the fight, I survived, along with the other 99 juvenile prisoners currently under lock and key in Ark Penitentiary, a former POW camp turned "rehabilitation" center for criminal and insane youths. We're told there's nothing left for us in the East, that our crimes can't be forgiven, that we have given up our human rights through our misdeeds, and that a life in prison is the most we can hope for. But still I dream of standing with nothing above me but sky and nothing surrounding me but the sounds of the Earth, far away from the noises of cell block A. This is the reality. Reality sucks.
I come out of my reverie when one of the regular guards swings the door of my cell open. "Prisoner 391, face the wall."
I move to comply, but when he reaches for my wrists to shackle me, I resist. I haven't had to be put in restraints for months now. There's only one reason I can think of that they're going to move me, and pardon my French, but I'm not ready to fucking die. Standing as still as I can, I wait until the guards have flanked me. I make a quick jerking movement towards the one standing in front of me, causing him to bring up his club. I use his forward momentum to knock him into the guard standing behind me and as the two of them grapple with each other, I sprint out of the open door. I know it sounds like I'm making excuses, but let's just say it's been a really long time since I've seen anything outside of those walls and I panic for a moment, unsure of which direction to run. Hearing voices coming from my left, I swerve down the dark tunnel to my right, feeling my heart kicking against the inside of my ribs. As I turn the second corner, I'm brought to an immediate stop by a young guard I've never seen before and who looks just as surprised as I am. I try to push by him, but he pulls my wrists behind me and pushes me against the wall.
As footsteps quickly approach us, I can feel the shackles clamp around my wrists and the panic I was feeling changes, sliding down and settling into my stomach as a pool of dread.
"Good work detaining the prisoner, Private Blake. I'll take it from here," says one of the guards from earlier as he pushes me in front of him. I notice the new guard watching me, waiting to see how I'll react. It's amazing how being alone doesn't mean having privacy. I straighten my spine and keep my head forward, refusing to let this new guy see how scared I am. If this is it and they've finally decided it's not worth feeding me, no matter what public opinion is, then fuck it. They won't see me sweat.
I'm brought out of the subterranean cells into the harsh light and I squint my eyes against the pain. I recognize the voice of Harold Dwight, the administrator of the prison, floating across the yard. It looks like the whole damn cell block is standing within the wooden stockade. "Alright, listen up, criminals! You are under the direct order of the government of the United States of America. You have been granted leniency, but it comes at a cost. Under no circumstances are you allowed to return east of the Mississippi before your ten years of labor are through! If you fail to comply with these orders, you will be thrown back in prison with no option for parole! For those of you who are having trouble following me, this means that you are a bunch of lucky bastards! Undeservedly, you are being given a second chance to be a useful member of society!"
The voices of the kids around me are starting to rise. Exclamations of dismay meet enthusiastic cries and I'm startled by the guard behind me sliding a letter into my hand.
"Hold onto this. Read it when you wake up." The next thing I know, he swings the butt of his rifle towards my face and everything goes black.
I come to sitting down, with a cracker jack headache. I can tell from the way my body is being jostled around that not only am I not alone, but I'm also probably on a train. The last time I rode on one didn't go too well, but I'm trying not to think about that right now. I lift my head as I hear a voice from my left.
"Welcome back."
I freeze as I recognize the young man sitting right next to me. Wells. The last person I want to see. I'm unnerved by the way he's looking at me, so I snap, "Wells, why the hell are you here?" It's not really the question I want to hear him answer, but it's the more practical one.
"When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground I got myself arrested." He explains, as if that is the most normal thing in the world. Leaning towards me he confides, "I came for you."
Just as more malicious words are about to bubble up and spill out of my mouth, there's a loud blast and the car we're riding in is suddenly rocked violently.
"What was that?" The memory of another crashing noise on a different train tries to force its way into my mind.
"That is probably a storm. It's been battering us for at least the last two hours," Wells answers. "What's that?"
I look down at the object in my hand. The letter. I had forgotten about the letter. Ignoring him and his questioning gaze, I slip my thumb underneath the flap of the envelope, pulling lightly until the paper gives way and I can see the tight black script waiting for me.
Dearest Clarke,
You've been given a second chance. President Grant has appointed Chancelor Jaha to oversee the settling of the West. It is Jaha's hopes that this will not only be seen as a second chance for you, but as a second chance for our broken nation and mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you out there. If the odds of survival were better, they would have sent others. Frankly, they're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable in the eyes of the government. But you are not expendable to me. The rules have changed. This gives you a chance to live. Your instincts will tell you to take care of everybody else first, just like your father. But be careful. I can't lose you too. I love you so much. West, Clarke. You get to go West.
Always,
Your Mother
A lump forms in my throat as I think of the last time I saw my mother. The look of pain on her face as I was dragged away. I won't see her again for another decade. And that's if I survive. With this thought, I start scanning the rest of the train car, wondering what we've been given to survive with.
"There's nothing in here but other people, but I think I heard there's an attached supply car."
"So who's driving this thing?" I ask.
"Nobody. They fueled it up at the last depot and now it's going out as far as it can go. Some end of the line town in Nebraska that the railroad wasn't able to sustain when the war started. Then it's up to us to make our way into Colorado Territory."
A boy sitting across from me, who has been glaring at Wells, speaks up. "How does it feel to have your father's lips permanently attached to President Grant's ass?"
Laughter rolls down the line of kids and Wells grimaces. It's not his fault his father was given a difficult task by the president. What is his fault is that both Wells and his father cost me the person who meant the most in the world to me. My attention is pulled away when I notice a boy with shoulder-length brown hair has gotten himself free from his chains and is roaming around the unstable car.
"Hey!" He yells, wandering towards me. "You're the traitor who's been in solitary for over a year!" Thanks, genius, I wasn't aware of that.
"And you're the idiot who wasted an entire winter's rations on some useless party."
He thinks for a second before acknowledging my insult. "Yeah. But it was fun. I'm Finn." And then he smiles. It's smiles like that that let you know when someone is going to be trouble. And I have a feeling the trouble hasn't even started yet.
"Clarke, there's something I have to tell you." My mind is dragged back to Wells. I guess a reminder of why I shouldn't trust anybody here might not be such a bad thing. "I'm sorry I got your father arrested…"
I cut him off immediately. "Do not. Talk. About my father."
"I can't die knowing that you hate me!"
"They didn't arrest my father, Wells. They executed him! I do hate you!" I take a deep breath as my heart constricts. Just thinking of him hurts. Luckily, I don't have too long to dwell on it when a loud whining noise cuts off my train of thought. Next thing I know, I feel one small thump and then my world is turned upside down. My body is jerked forward, the only thing holding me in place are the shackles around my wrists. My body smashes into the side of the car as we tumble over and over and over, my arms twisting painfully in the chains, until with a loud crash the movement stops.
And everything is silent. I slowly lift my head and wince at the pain that shoots up my spine. Not good, but it could be worse. I roll over and push to my feet, slowly working the pegs on the iron clasps around my wrists out. The chains drop to the floor and I rub my wrists lightly.
The door to the car is suddenly pulled back and light streams in. Standing in the entryway is a guard. Wait. I've seen him before. It takes me a moment to realize it's the same guard who stopped me from escaping back at Ark Penitentiary!
"Bellamy?" A tentative voice from further back in the darkness.
The guard stops himself from walking away and turns back around slowly. Something weird is going on, but I don't know what. The guard climbs into the car and rushes over to a girl with long brown hair. "O? My god! Look how big you are!" He helps her remove the cuffs and pulls her into his arms.
"What are you doing here? And what the hell are you wearing? A guard's uniform?" she asks, her disdain evident.
"I borrowed one to get onto the train." He smiles affectionately down at her. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you."
It's nice that they're having a moment and all, but enough's enough. I can see that the train crash has left more than one person injured. "These people could use your help," I state simply.
The brown-haired girl turns around and rolls her eyes. "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year."
"So what?" another kid yells. "My brother got blown up at Siege of Petersburg!"
"That's Octavia Blake! The girl whose Reb mama kept her under the floorboards!" adds another kid.
At this, the brown-haired girl's face turns vicious and her body moves forward quickly towards one of the kids before being brought up short by her brother.
"Octavia? Octavia. No. Hey, let's give them something else to remember you by," he says while trying to turn her face away from the others. "Like being the first American to reach the West." They smile at each other and I can tell they're communicating wordlessly. For a moment I forget about what the hell just happened and I wonder what it would be like to have someone love me enough to follow me into the unknown. Then I remember Wells and I shudder.
"Wait!" I yell as Bellamy hops out of the car and helps his sister hop down. "What about the injured?" I hop out of the car after them and stop immediately.
Suddenly, everyone is rushing past me, flying out of the train and into the untouched fields surrounding us. Moisture and pollen and light seems to reflect off of everything as almost a hundred pairs of boots race through the grass.
The sounds. Oh my god, the sounds are incredible. And the way everything smells. All I can smell is grass and trees and wind. And the air is clear and rushes into my lungs like cold water rushing over a waterfall. My mind spins as I try to hold all of these sensations in my lungs, trying to identify each smell and remember when I last felt so free. The buzzing of insects and crickets and the chirping of birds and sound of wind brushing leaves against each other fills my head. For a moment, I feel free. I feel hope.
But as I look around me, I also recognize nothing. The field we're is surrounded by woods and I have no idea what's waiting for us.
Finn comes to stand next to me. "Why so serious, Princess? It's not like we died in a fiery explosion."
For the moment I think about kicking him in the groin, just for ruining this wonderful moment. "Try telling that to the two injured kids back in the train."
"You don't like being called Princess. Do you, Princess?" Wow, he's a quick one.
"I don't give a shit about a nickname, Finn. We're in the wilderness and almost all of our supplies just got ruined in a train crash. We've got nothing."
His face drops as he takes in what I've just said. Yeah. Let's see him smile his way out of this one.