Summary: This is an AU Bellark fic where they are among the first generation of Grounders...people who were alive when the Earth was as we know it, and lived through the bombs (mostly due to proximity, operating on the assumption that some places just had to be in areas not directly affected by the bombs / radiation). Very loosely inspired by Jericho. Less of a cohesive story, and more told through looks at visits to a general trading area.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you'd be interested in...
- Prelude -
Clarke is sitting on a fence post, arguing with Jasper about whether or not cold beer and music from the town bar's juke box is a worthwhile use of the win-fall of gasoline for the generator they recently came across when she sees Monty running towards them out of the corner of her eye. "Jasper, no" she says before kissing his cheek and jumping down. She grabs the back of Wells' shirt as she passes him and pulls him with her to meet up with Monty as he pushes into the gate. He's out of breath, hands on his knees, when he hands her a piece of paper.
It takes her a minute to process what she's looking at, but when she does she realizes that she's looking at a hand drawn map; the outer edge of their town, where their furthest out patrols walk, to an unknown point. She flips the page over and see the words 'Trading Post' staring back at her. She shrugs a little and hands the paper to Wells who huffs a bit. "Where'd you get it?" she asks Monty, who has stood up and is breathing normally.
"I was on the outer patrol and a guy just handed it to me and left" Monty shrugs a little and takes the water that Wells holds out for him, taking a long swig and handing it back. "He wasn't confrontational at all and said they invite all the close towns" he pauses, "said that no one that trades knows where each other's towns are, and that makes it safer" Monty trails off, probably thinking of the time they went to the Black Jack trading post and some guy tried to buy Clarke's time and she'd had to spell out that she wasn't a hooker for him – he'd showed up in the middle of town square angry and looking for her a few days later; Monty had been grazed by a bullet in the ensuing chaos.
Clarke looks at Wells out of the corner of her eye, "We should go".
"It could be a trap" Wells counters quickly, like he'd been waiting for her to say she wanted to go.
She gives a half shrug, "Maybe. But I don't hate our odds if it is" she thinks about how they've gotten tougher since the bombs dropped, defended themselves when the need arose, "and if it's not, being able to trade wouldn't be the worst thing" she sees Wells nod a little and knows he wants to go and just felt like he should state the obvious. She distantly hears the generator roar to life and sound of 80's rock fills the air and she rolls her eyes, crossing the street to turn the generator off and glares at Jasper, "Besides, I could a field trip" she deadpans.
Wells nods with a little chuckle.
More soon! Please review!