I started writing this fic quite recently after season 2 finished, because there were just so many possibilities! I intended to have it finished before s3 started, as it quickly became apparent that I was writing my own version of what s3 might look like. I don't think that's going to happen, but I'm going to start posting chapters anyways!
Right now I can't promise a consistent update schedule, as I'm still furiously writing, editing, and rewriting. But I can guarantee you that this is going to be a long story, and it's going to be a slow build. I want to take time to be true to every character, and be true to their emotions and what they have to deal with in their hectic lives. But I can promise a happy ending! As happy as these characters can be in their situations at least!
Each chapter will have it's own specific warnings, though the fic overall shouldn't have anything that you wouldn't see in the show. I'll update tags as we go, as things may change. I'm currently working on trying to incorporate the Jaha/Murphy/City of Light plotline into this fic, but it's having some trouble meshing and may not make the cut. If it does you can be sure that the characters will be added (:
The official/unofficial theme song for this fic is 'Awake My Soul' by Mumford & Sons. Their entire album 'Sigh No More' is my choice of writing music to set the tone for this fic.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!
Warnings for this chapter: canon-typical violence. rushed intro writing. A big, damn hero rescue that isn't quite as cheesy as it should be.
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
And where you invest your love, you invest your life
-'Awake My Soul' by Mumford & Sons
It started with a cough.
Lots of people had been coughing lately. The days were getting colder, the nights were lasting longer. Just the other day there had been frost on the ground when Bellamy woke up, though it had thawed within the hour.
They'd been struggling to keep up with the cold, and keep everyone properly clothed. There just simply wasn't enough clothing and all of their clothes from the Arc were worn so thin from generations of use that they couldn't keep out the chill. Bellamy had forgotten what it was like to be truly warm, and he longed for the long summer days that he'd once complained about being too hot.
Along with ill preparations, their food supplies were dwindling. Animals were fleeing the cold. They'd seen birds migrating, and others had disappeared into holes for hibernation. The gardens that they'd tended to and yielded small crops were dying, and the soil was getting hard. Nothing new would grow.
People from the Arc knew how to survive with little. They were gathering lots of firewood, and they would stay warm with fire. They were survivors, and they would band together to persevere.
Then the sickness started. Sniffles, here and there, runny noses that led to sore throats with small innocent coughs. There was always a strain of flu running amok on the Ark, and with proper quarantine methods and antibiotics it was easily dealt with. Often it was best to just let it run its course.
They'd done the same; isolating the sick from the main population. Given them food, water and fire, but they'd only gotten sicker. And then others started getting sick. It spread quickly, in various stages, throughout the camp.
Octavia was recovering from mild frostnip—she'd been out hunting, clutching her sword tightly in an uncovered hand and when she'd returned it had taken hours of Bellamy and Lincoln rubbing her hands warm before she could let go of her weapon. She'd been in medical for a day, and seemed healthy enough when she left.
She was eating breakfast, showing the new wrapping on her hands that would help protect her fingers, when she coughed. Bellamy and Lincoln's heads snapped up, but she waved them off.
"Probably just from being in medical for a little while. But I'm strong, don't worry about me," she grinned.
Octavia was strong, Bellamy knew. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever known, and he loved her more than anything. It was this love that was also his greatest weakness sometimes. Because he would do anything to save her.
When one of their elders, one of the first to be sick, passed away that afternoon, Bellamy was the one Chancellor Griffin sent for.
"If we don't start medicating, more people are going to die," she warned in a hushed whisper.
"But it's a cold, why can't we just get over it? Like on the Arc," Bellamy asked. He wasn't convinced the elder had passed away due to the illness just yet. It was marginally warmer inside the medical bay, and he flexed his fingers and toes to make sure they were all still there.
Abby shook her head, "We're not on the Arc. We're exposed, cold and all somewhat malnourished. And it's only going to get worse as winter goes on. We need better shelter, and more food. And medicine."
"How am I supposed to find medicine out here?" Bellamy asked, "I'll talk to Chancellor Kane, and see if we can't start cutting down trees. We can probably build a wall to block the wind."
"I don't know," Abby sighed, "but if we don't start changing things, people are going to die. It'll start with the old, and the younger children. Their bodies are most susceptible. And then it'll move to those who are healthier. Maybe they can fight it off, but if any of them cripple their immune system in any way—an injury, exposure or starvation—they could just as easily die."
Bellamy thought back to Octavia that morning. Her stiff fingers still regaining feeling, and her little cough. Her eyes had been glossy. Would she be one of them? Would Bellamy lose her to something he couldn't fight? He felt a chill go through him, colder than any wind or frost that had ever touched him.
"I'll find something," he promised Abby, "I'll keep everyone safe."
It was Lincoln who finally suggested it. Another elder had passed away. People were scared, hovering close to the fires and refusing to go near the medical bay or the sick hut, placed right on the edge of camp.
"Why not take the mountain?" his gaze was on the horizon, towards Mt Weather, "it can hold all of your people, and it will be safe. You will be sheltered there, and you can grow food and keep it stored."
Bellamy felt the collar around his neck, and the chill of hundreds of faces burning away, all because of him. He took a breath to steady himself before answering.
"I don't think it's right… we lost so many there. And we left the dead there. It'd stink, and would just have bad memories."
"But they're just memories," Lincoln insisted, "the dead are dead, and the living will soon join them if you don't think of something."
"I'll think on it," Bellamy said, "maybe we can take supplies from them. They had a lot of medicine. And clothes. We can use that."
He didn't want to admit he was afraid to go back to the mountain. He didn't want to talk about how it haunted him, the choices he'd made and the people he killed. Or how it scared him that he'd do it all over again if he had to.
Octavia collapsed that evening, pale, glossy-eyed, and coughing. She was sick.
It took at least eight hours to get to Mt Weather. Bellamy was determined to make it in half the time. He had a list from Chancellor Griffin of the sorts of medicine he needed, and was accompanied by Chancellor Kane, Miller and three of the guards. They were all slowing him down. His baby sister was sick, his people were getting sick because of his indecisiveness, and he was going to change that.
The woods were cold, and the floor was littered with leaves. Weak sunlight shone through the large gaps in the canopy, though the coniferous trees remained bright and green. Bellamy's breath steamed in the air that morning, curling around his face every time he spoke to his team. They were some of the healthiest people in the camp, and they had to get to Mt Weather, get inside and take all the medicine they could possibly carry, and return. It was to be a day trip. No one wanted to spend a night in the mountain, or outside of camp when the night temperatures dropped so low that you couldn't stop shaking if you were caught outside.
They'd been walking for a few hours now, at a fast pace. Bellamy was breathing hard. His nose was numb, and his cheeks stung with cold. He was several feet ahead of the group, determined to keep the pace so that they would have to stay with him. Octavia's face, sick and miserable, kept flashing through his mind. He couldn't lose her.
"Bellamy," Miller gasped, "you—you have to slow down!"
"Keep up, if we slow down more people will die," Bellamy ordered.
They were nearing the river that marked the edge of their boundary with Mt Weather. Once upon a time, months and months ago, Octavia had been injured here. Jasper had been impaled on a spear. It had been warm.
There were thin sheets of ice collecting in pockets of water between the rocks. It took a breath to melt them, or overturning a stone to dislodge them. Bellamy had read of places on Earth where the winter was so cold you could walk out for miles onto the sea. The sea was too far away to know if that would be the case here, but Lincoln assured them there would be lots of snow, and many rivers and even waterfalls would freeze over.
His team was taking a quick rest. They were eating some of the dried meat they'd brought, and drinking the water. There wasn't enough time to make a fire for warmth, and everyone was cold now that they weren't moving. Bellamy had his hands tucked into his armpits and was wiggling his fingers, trying to get circulation in them.
"It…" Bellamy cleared his throat, and tried to sound tougher than he actually felt, "it's not going to be pleasant in there. We left the bodies where they were, and they've started decomposing by now. Animals may have been drawn in, so be alert. There could still be dangers even though the people are dead. We go for the medicine, and any food or clothes we can grab, but the medicine is our priority this trip."
They all nodded nervously. Bellamy half expected someone, even himself, to make a joke. That was typical, to laugh in the face of danger and to pretend like you weren't afraid. It made everyone else feel braver, stronger even. He couldn't think of anything funny to say. Inside the mountain were over 300 people that he'd murdered. Him and Clarke.
Sometimes, in Bellamy's dreams, Clarke killed them all herself. He would watch her and think 'how could anyone be such a monster?' and in other dreams he was standing in Mt Weather, drill in hand, and on the operating table was Lovejoy's son looking up at him and crying for his father.
'I have no other choice,' Bellamy would whisper, and then press the drill to the boys skin.
"Monty said that snake thing that attacked them before might be hibernating," Miller said, interrupting Bellamy's thoughts.
"Or, we just go up to the crossing point," Chancellor Kane suggested.
Bellamy shook his head, "If we had a larger group we'd use the cross point, but it's too far out of the way. This is the fastest way into the mountain, and we have a small group. We'll use the rope to swing across."
Bellamy wanted to be the first across the river. Mostly so that he could start walking and let the others catch up, but the guard insisted on going first and making sure the other bank didn't have any nasty surprises.
Kane and a guard—a man a few years Bellamy's senior, named Isaac—were testing the strength of the rope before Isaac swung across. Everyone else was paying attention to their surroundings. It was second nature now, on the ground, and everything was dying off so there was hardly any cover.
They should have been more on alert. Bellamy should have known better.
One moment Isaac was preparing to swing, the next there was an arrow through his shoulder.
"Get down!" Kane shouted.
The other two guards had their guns up, and Westley fired a shot in the direction the arrow had come from.
"We aren't here to steal from you!" Bellamy shouted, "we don't want to fight—show yourselves!"
"No Skicru under the mountain!" a voice shouted from somewhere in the trees above them.
Bellamy kept his hands up, "Come out! We don't want to fight!"
He could hear Isaac groaning as Kane tried to help him.
Fwip
Another arrow, through the throat of Westley. A spray of blood littered the rocks as the body fell.
"Run!" Miller shouted, "get out of here!"
The Grounders, unseen, were still shouting at them.
"Kill the Skicru!" echoed around them, from many different voices.
Bellamy spun in a circle, keeping his stance braced. Where were they? Where was the next attack coming from?
"We are going to the mountain!" he shouted, "we need medicine! We don't want to fight you!"
Danica, the last guard, still had her rifle ready to fire. She was doing frantic turns, trying to spot someone.
"There!" Kane shouted, pointing.
Someone was darting between trees. Bellamy forced himself to stay calm, there were people running through the trees. Surrounding them.
"Put down your weapons!" he ordered, "we're here in peace!"
Danica ignored him, took aim, and fired at the runners. Two arrows hit her—one through her shoulder, and the other in her side. She dropped her weapon and collapsed.
A woman dropped out of the tree twenty paces away. Bellamy didn't recognize her. Her face was covered with an iron mask, and she wore thick furs that made her appear larger than her frame was. She approached confidently now that they didn't have any guns pointing into the trees.
"Skicru will not have the mountain," she snarled.
Bellamy kept his hands up, "We're here for medicine. Our people are sick."
Four other grounders seemingly materialized out of the woods. Two more were across the river, all of them had arrows notched and ready to fire. Bellamy should have paid more attention. They were trapped and they were all going to die because he had been so obsessed with moving quickly.
"Please, we need the medicine. I'll go alone—my people will go back to our camp," Bellamy said, speaking quickly but softly. He addressed the woman who had spoken last, assuming she was the leader. Grounders often had women in charge, so he hoped it was a good guess.
"None of your people will see the mountain," she replied, "unless they are dead."
"Why?" Bellamy snapped, "what good is it to you?"
"Too many questions," she dismissed him, and waved at her warriors. All of them, save the two across the river, lowered their bows and put their arrows back in their quivers.
The leader drew her sword and Bellamy instinctively put himself between her and his people. He could see her brown eyes through her mask, though he could not read her face to know what she was thinking.
"We're no threat to you, we don't want to fight," Bellamy insisted, "I'm sure we can talk this out."
"Take their guns. Leave this one alive," the leader ordered, gesturing at Miller.
"No!" Bellamy shouted.
The four grounders drew their swords in one movement. Bellamy dove for the leader in front of him to take her weapon. Kane threw himself towards Isaac's gun, twisting to get a clear shot. One of the grounders grabbed Miller, kicking him in the knee to force him down. Danica was screaming. Isaac was being pinned to the ground with a boot.
The leader punched Bellamy in the nose so hard he saw stars. He reeled back, and let his body drop just in time to avoid the swing of her sword. He kicked out at her ankle, desperate to unbalance her on the rocks. She fell, stabbing at him and just sliced his thigh through the material of his pants.
Bellamy grabbed her wrist and rolled towards her, trying to break it if he could. She shouted in pain, and the sword clattered to the ground. There was a thick, wet chopping sound behind him and Bellamy didn't have time to know what it was. He couldn't hear Isaac or Danica, but Miller and Kane were still shouting. They were still alive.
He scrambled for the blade, fighting the strong hands dragging him away. The grounder grabbed him by the knee and twisted, rolling her entire body into the motion. He felt his muscles straining to the point of breaking, felt the handle of the sword, and kicked with his other leg as he grabbed it. He caught her in the face, she let him go. His foot was numb and his knee ached. Bellamy didn't know if he could stand on it but he didn't have time to find out. He forced himself to his feet, trying to kill the grounder while she was still down.
Someone kicked out his bad knee from behind him and his leg crumpled. Hands fisted in his hair and yanked back as a knee drove into his spine, exposing his throat. The leader was rubbing her throat where Bellamy's kick had hit her. Bellamy's arm was wrenched behind his back, his wrist twisted until he dropped the sword. He struggled to get away from them. Miller was babbling, begging for his friends not to be killed.
"Stop!" an unfamiliar voice shouted.
All heads snapped up.
There, in a patch of sunlight just down the bank, stood Clarke. She had a small bow with an arrow drawn, pointed at the fighting group. Her hair looked like a golden halo, and even though he was seeing two of her at the moment, Bellamy thought she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.
"I am Clarke Griffin of Skicru, and I demand you let my people go!" Clarke ordered.
Bellamy heard the scared gasps from the grounders around him. The leader remained focused on Clarke, but the others glanced nervously between her and Clarke.
"Mountain slayer," the leader hissed. She turned to her people and barked an order. The hands holding Bellamy released him and he tumbled forwards into the dirt, catching himself on his good arm. He turned to take a survey of his people. Miller was still sobbing, laying in the dirt. Danica was bleeding from her arrow wounds, and on her knees with a sword resting in the nape of her neck. Kane was covered in blood, but he was sitting up and looked unharmed. Isaac, beside him, was dead. His head had rolled towards Bellamy and Isaac's wide, blue eyes were staring up at Bellamy, unseeing.
"Get away from them," Clarke ordered, and Bellamy realized she'd moved closer. The grounders looked terrified by this eighteen year old girl. It was almost funny.
"Skicru cannot enter the mountain," the leader repeated, though she didn't sound as sure as when she'd addressed Bellamy.
"On whose orders? It's not your territory," Clarke replied.
"Heda has ordered it," the leader said, "we will not let any Skicru into the mountain. Any who cross the border shall die."
"The Commander? Lexa?" Clarke asked, "what business does she have with the mountain. It's of no use to you."
"The Commander has ordered it. We will obey," the leader replied. She was adjusting her grip on her sword, likely thinking about attacking Clarke.
Clarke lowered her bow, pointing it at the ground but not releasing the draw on her arrow, "Tell Lexa that we need to talk. Immediately. Until then, we will go back to our camp. You will leave us alone."
The leader let out a hissing sound, clouds of breath poured out the sides of her mask, and Bellamy wondered if she was barring her teeth.
"We will hold the border," she finally said, "no Skicru will cross. Return to your camp immediately."
"And Lexa?" Clarke prompted.
"I will tell the Commander that the Mountain Slayer seeks audience," the leader said.
Clarke didn't look phased by the title. She nodded, once, and slid her arrow back into the quiver on her hip. The leader turned to her people and barked an order at them. They all sheathed their swords and stepped back, putting themselves between Bellamy and the medicine that Octavia needed to survive.
Bellamy pushed himself to his feet. His knee hurt and was probably sprained, and his entire arm ached. There was blood in his mouth, he realized, from his nose. He spat it out and gingerly touched his nose. It smarted, but it didn't feel broken. Small mercies, he figured, turning to look at the blood pooling in the rocks from Isaacs beheading. It was melting the ice in the small pools at the edge of the river.
Kane was helping Danica to her feet, and Miller was still on his hands and knees, shaking.
Clarke reached Miller first, "Come on," she said softly, "on your feet. It's a long walk home."
Bellamy surveyed the scene. Should they leave Westley and Isaac's bodies? It would take them longer to get home if they had to stop to make a travois to carry them. And Danica was injured. She would probably need to be carried as well. What was the right choice?
The right choice would be to regroup later, with more firepower. Walk away and live to fight another day. But his sister—and everyone else—were depending on him. Bellamy turned to look at Mt Weather. It was so close. If he ran, he might be able to make it. Octavia needed him.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, and when he turned it was to see Clarke's worried face.
"We have to go," she ordered, "can you walk?"
Bellamy's tongue felt heavy in his mouth with words he wanted to say. Protests he wanted to voice, that he knew wouldn't work. He didn't want to speak so he nodded. He let her pull him away from what was surely a suicide mission.
His knee protested, but it was manageable. Kane and Miller were supporting Danica. Clarke moved over to inspect the arrows.
"We can't remove them, but I'm going to break the shafts so that they don't catch on anything," Clarke instructed.
Danica was hyperventilating, and Kane cupped the back of her neck to turn her face away. He started talking, about nothing in general, to keep her distracted.
"Bellamy," Clarke ordered, "come hold this."
Bellamy followed the familiar tone of her voice, gripping the arrow in Danica's shoulder tight to the base. He used his other hand to steady her shoulder. She was shaking. Miller had moved out of his way and was hovering nervously.
Clarke pulled a knife from her belt and held the arrow near the fletching with her other hand. She didn't say anything as she brought the knife up, and Kane gripped Danica's chin tightly to keep her looking away as Clarke swung down. Bellamy didn't even flinch as the knife broke the wood inches from his fingers. Danica screamed, and while she jerked Bellamy grabbed her around the middle, holding the second arrow just as he'd done the first and Clarke moved with him to snap the second.
Danica sagged into Kane, and Bellamy had to move quickly to help keep her standing. His arm protested, aching to the point his fingers went numb and he couldn't get a good grip on her.
"Miller," Clarke ordered, "we need you here!"
Miller jumped into action, taking over for Bellamy. Bellamy cradled his bad arm to his chest, favoring his better foot. Clarke was still talking to Danica. Bellamy glanced around, his mind hoping that he could spot a break in the grounders' defenses and that he could make a run for the medicine.
The grounders had vanished, but he could still feel their looming presence. They were hidden in the woods again, watching his group closely.
"Danica can walk, and we'll probably move faster while she can. Now how about you?" Clarke interrupted his thoughts again. Bellamy turned back to focus on her. Her hair was very bright, and her eyes were very blue. She was also very dirty, and might possibly have a scar on her right cheek that hadn't been there before.
"Bellamy?" Clarke asked, "how hard did you hit your head? Are you concussed?"
It suddenly dawned on Bellamy that Clarke was real. She was right here, in front of him, and she was alive. There had been talk in camp that Clarke was never coming home. She'd left all of them and had gone to die alone in the woods because she couldn't handle what she'd done in Mt Weather. Bellamy had always kept hope that she would return, but it was months later now. Seasons had changed and he'd thought that one day they would stumble upon her bones, and yet here she was right in front of him.
He pulled her into a fierce hug. More accurately, he stumbled with a sudden onset of dizziness right into her arms.
"Probably a concussion," Clarke confirmed. Then she hugged him back. "I missed you too," she whispered.