The sun glinted off the metal Ark, and Bellamy squinted against it. The early morning sun had a tendency to do that. Not that he minded. Bellamy had nothing against the early morning sun, he rather liked it in fact. It made everything glisten as though it was new and hadn't been touched.
It reminded him of the sunbeams and Octavia's glowing butterflies back at the Dropship.
It hadn't been a better time, just a simpler one. Now, they had to figure out how to feed hundreds of people and keep them alive and keep peace—and remain sane.
Easier said than done.
Part of his method was mornings like this. Ones where he could think about only the dew on the grass and whether it would soak through his boots. Everyone was still asleep, so it wasn't hard to pretend they didn't need him, pretend for once he could take a breath of air without feeling guilty.
Footsteps on the gravel behind him. Clarke. They hadn't been through so much together for nothing. He knew her footsteps, her breathing, that she'd come up on his left and say,
"Bellamy."
"Clarke." He stopped walking and turned to look at her. Her eyelids were swollen, probably from crying. Making that list had been hard on her. Hell he wasn't sure he could do it if he'd been asked. "Sleep well?"
All he got was a pained smile.
He knew she hadn't. She'd dozed off on the couch in the office. It was the same couch he'd slept on while she made the List. Slept. While she was making some of the hardest decisions of her life, he'd slept. No more "together" as the lever came down, just a pen on paper, all alone.
He'd written her name, she'd cried, they'd talked well into the night because Clarke had clearly not been ready to sleep yet.
When she had finally dozed off, Bellamy had gently tugged her legs so she stretched out on the couch. She'd muttered something about radiation and rolled onto her side, pulling her arms to her chest like a little kid. With her blonde hair and relaxed but splotchy-from-crying face, he'd been struck by reality: they were young. Not kids anymore, but young.
Bellamy hadn't known where to find an extra, so he'd left for a moment to get the single chancellor-issued blanket from his quarters. He'd tucked it around her before sitting in the chair at the desk and eventually dozing off himself. He couldn't leave her alone after what she'd had to do.
Bellamy had woken before her with a crick in his neck and decided to take in the morning. Actually, he had other plans.
"Bellamy, are you still with me?"
His eyes focused back on her. "Yes, sorry. How are you?"
"Awful. You?"
"'Bout the same."
"Still have hope?"
He smirked. "Are we still breathing, Princess?"
"Why are you up?"
"Stuff to do," he responded vaguely. He knew she'd argue with him, even though they both knew he was right. "You?"
"Couldn't sleep." Her eyes flickered from his head to his feet, and he knew she'd noticed. "Where are you going, Bellamy?"
"Hunting. We need food."
"Send someone else."
It sounded like a request, even if it came out worded as an order.
"Clarke," he drawled. "You know I'm the best hunter. I could go out for the day and come back with more than the others will in a week."
She raised an eyebrow and cocked a hip, resting her hand on it. Clarke sass, a posture he'd recognize anywhere.
"Yeah, you're right, two weeks," he corrected with a grin.
Clarke rolled her eyes. "Three days," she countered.
"Three days," he conceded. "Either way, it needs to happen."
Clarke sighed. "I know. Take someone with you."
Was she worried about him? Since when? Bellamy nodded. "I'll need help carrying all the game," he agreed. "I might be strong, but I can't haul nearly as much as I can catch."
She snorted. "Why do you only make comments like that in the morning?"
"Like what?"
"Cocky, humorous," she struggled to explain. "Kind of how you were when we first landed, but not as crass."
Wow. Real poet there. "Honestly?" He forced himself to look at those blue eyes, the dullness of which made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain. "In the morning, with no one around and the birds singing and the sun shining, I can forget that they need me.
"Afoot and lighthearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me, the long brown path before me, leading
Wherever I choose."
Bellamy recited.
"Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return,"
They finished together.
"Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman," Clarke remarked, sounding surprised.
It was slightly hurtful. He'd been a pretty good student back on the Ark, before, well, everything. "Mornings like this make it feel less impossible," Bellamy struggled to explain.
"So do you," he barely heard her whisper. "Who are you bringing hunting?" she asked more loudly before he could respond in kind to her earlier confession.
"Whatever hunter I can find awake this early," he teased. He hadn't meant to take away her smile with the poem, he'd just wanted to tell her the truth. After everything, she deserved at least that.
"Don't go into Azgeda land," Clarke recommended. "Even with the truce, I'm not sure I'd trust them."
"I agree."
"And come back before nightfall, regardless of the hunting. After Luna and the others, I'm not so sure ALIE's calculation of six months is accurate."
"Yes, Princess," Bellamy said obediently.
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't understand all of this, and people running off in a million different directions scares me."
"I know," he said simply. "I'll be back. Make sure to keep everyone in line here at camp and, hey Stevens! Clarke, try to smile at least once today. It's good for you, or so my mom always said."
"I already did."
"Again, Princess."
"When you get back, Rebel King."
Bellamy laughed at the nickname, waved, and jogged to meet Stevens. The guy was a bit inexperienced and, being from the Ark, hadn't gone through what the Hundred had, but Bellamy liked his willing and quiet approach to just about any job thrown at him. A good companion for a trip like this for sure.
"Morning, Blake," Stevens greeted him.
"Stevens, we need to go hunting."
"When?"
"Now."
"Ok, let me go get a gun, and I'll meet you at the front gate."
Bellamy had been right. A good companion.