Bellamy clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. They were cuffed behind his back and he pulled against them as tight as he could, feeling the sting as they cut into the tender flesh of his wrists. He needed the pain – needed it to keep his clarity, keep him grounded, keep him sane. But fear and anxiety still roiled in his gut, making him nauseous.
He took slow, deep breaths.
If he was going to die, he was going to die with some dignity. He didn't get to say goodbye to his mother as they led her to her execution, only watched as she faced down the fear he knew she must've felt inside and walked into the airlock, completely composed and with her head held high.
He was determined to do the same. But he could feel the anger as it boiled inside of him.
"No, we can't tell anyone. Tell me what happens if we do."
"You get floated."
He'd known then, even as an eight year old, what would happen. But then he watched with regret as Octavia grew, just as her desperation to see anything outside of their four walls, grew with her. It wasn't her fault and she didn't deserve to be locked away forever, she was bright and vibrant like the most radiant flower, and she needed freedom like a plant needed the sun.
That's what he told himself over and over again as he carried the mask to their quarters, trying to talk himself into what he was about to do, the risk he was about to take. Then it all went to hell and now here he was, walking towards his death, having just watched his mother's.
She was a woman whose government failed her, who couldn't abort the child growing within her, and who did what she had to do to protect those she loved. She was strong and she was good – and she was dead because of him. Because of the risk he'd took. Octavia and his mother, his mother and Octavia. It was his job to protect his family and now he would be responsible for their deaths. It killed him inside, eating him away piece by piece – the shame, the guilt, the intense fury at himself and the privileged bastards that put them in this impossible situation in the first place.
If he were honest, as terrified as he was, a part of him was happy to die. He deserved it after how much he'd fucked everything up. The only regret he had about his coming execution was Octavia. If she was allowed to live, she would be alone – alone and scared – and she would be unprepared to navigate this much bigger world she now found herself in. He wished he could see her one last time, beg her for forgiveness, tell her to stay strong. She was so much stronger than she knew.
The guards held tightly onto his arms, one on each side, leading him down a hall – leading him to his death. They stopped in front of a door and he felt like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. He eyed the small hallway they were in, nervously, and he suddenly noticed just how clean it was – no grease stains covering the walls and floor, no missing panels showing the dangerous wires hiding beneath. This wasn't Factory.
He was looking around, trying to get his bearings, when he saw it, written on the far side of the wall in bold letters above the paneling – Government-Science Station. He furrowed his brows and blinked. It would've made more sense to just float him out of the nearest airlock in Factory – hell it would've made more sense just to float him right after his mother. Why waste the time walking me all the way to Go-Sci?
The guard to his left opened the door into a small round room. Inside sat only a table and chairs, one of them occupied by an attractive, dark-haired woman. She was middle-aged and her black hair contrasted sharply against her fair skin. This was not at all what he was expecting, and this sudden turn of events was making him more nervous than he'd been just moments before when he thought he was walking to his own death.
The guards seated him in the nearest chair that sat opposite the woman. A small smile graced her lips as she studied him from across the table – it made his body tense, causing the cuffs to bite into his wrists even more. He swallowed, getting up the nerve to glance at the woman before catching her eyes and quickly looking down again. He was suddenly angry at himself for being afraid of this bitch who no doubt was on the Council. One of the privileged who was responsible for all that had gone wrong. And here he was, flustered and scared as she watched him with that infuriating smirk. He clenched his jaw, finally locking eyes with her.
Her smile became wider at his show of resistance. "Mr. Blake," her voice was smooth and soft, "I have a proposition for you."
Not what he was expecting at all.
xxxxxxxxx
Abby inhaled slowly before sitting across from her daughter. She looked at the girl's blonde hair, usually so bright – sometimes appearing almost white in its normal braid - now hung limp and dull, covering her face like a curtain. Abby tried to meet her eyes but Clarke had her head bowed, staring listlessly at the table between them.
Her chest tightened and her breath caught in her throat at seeing her daughter in so much pain.
It had been a mistake, everyone makes mistakes – especially in their youth – but this was a mistake Clarke would have to pay for, for the rest of her life. And it killed Abby that she couldn't take this burden from her. It wasn't fair after what they had already been through these last few months, what they had lost.
Now they might lose each other too.
She cleared her throat, the sound slicing through the thick silence. "His name is Bellamy Blake."
She waited to see if Clarke would have any kind of reaction. Any questions.
She didn't.
She didn't even move.
Abby knew she was waiting for the important parts – the parts Abby dreaded telling her.
"He's from Factory," she read from the tablet. She said it quickly – like pulling off a band-aid. But it didn't make the hurt any less, and she watched, tears pooling in her eyes, as Clarke flinched at the news.
They had known it would probably be someone from Factory or Mecha – they were desperate enough to take this deal. But as Abby looked at her daughter, who sat across from her blanketed in grief but still so stoic and proud, she knew anyone would be lucky to be with her, and none of them deserved her – certainly not some strange man from Factory.
"It's not exactly a surprise," Clarke croaked, the pain in her voice so thick it seemed almost like a physical thing.
A tear escaped, running down Abby's cheek and she quickly wiped it away. "No, it's not." She gripped the tablet, looking down at the face in the picture. "Do you want to see what he looks like? His information-"
"Does it matter?" Clarke shook her head. "I'll still have to go through with it."
"Yes, but it can make things a little easier perhaps."
Clarke sat up straight in her chair, glaring at her mother. "Easier? How could seeing his face make this easier?" she snapped.
Abby clenched her jaw, she wouldn't blame Clarke for her outburst, nothing about this was easy. If Clarke needed to take her anger out on her, Abby would let her – it was the least she could do after not being able to stop this from happening.
She had once carried a lot of clout on the Council but that was before her husband had been floated for treason, and her daughter had put them in an awkward situation. Now, except for Thelonious, they all viewed her with suspicion. But she refused to cower to them. She was on the Council and she would do the job she had sworn to do with her head held high.
Still, they had kept her out of the discussion and decision making of this issue. She was too close, they'd said. But eventually they'd told her their decision – they had been unanimous in that the situation would be dealt with in the manner in which it normally was, or as much as it could be, given the circumstances.
Thelonious had looked at her with his sad eyes that begged her for her forgiveness. "Abby, this is the best possible solution, for the Council and for Clarke." Abby bit her tongue. No matter that she too was on the Council and didn't get a vote for her own daughter's wellbeing, or that her husband had just been floated and she would now be losing her daughter to, or that a man would be giving up his right to ever have a child of his own.
She pursed her lips, the Council did what was best for the Council. But it didn't matter anymore, and no amount of anger towards her colleagues would change the course of things now.
She slid her finger slowly up the tablet, going through the man's information. "Well, you can see his age. He's not too much older than you." Though Abby knew that a person's age would have nothing to do with their temperament or disposition, she was still relieved that the man her daughter was being forced to marry was closer to the girl's own age.
Clarke licked her lips before pressing them together tightly, looking down at the hands in her lap.
Abby continued reading the man's info. "And he works as… a janitor." Abby closed her eyes, shaking her head. He may not have been a lecherous old man, but he was about as low on the totem pole as you could get on the Ark. Clarke was the daughter of a councilwoman and an Engineering Officer, she'd tested out of many of her classes, was training to become a doctor, and had now started assisting Abby in surgeries, and she was only sixteen – she was brilliant… and she would now spend the rest of her life being tied down to a janitor.
Clarke scoffed. "I'm sure that's very rewarding for him."
"Clarke-"
Clarke scowled at her mother. "What? What do you want me to say? He's a janitor – that's wonderful for him. What about me?" Clarke leaned forward on the table, desperate to hear the answer that Abby knew she had truly been waiting for. "Will I be allowed to finish my training and continue working in medical?"
Abby took a deep breath before answering. She'd asked the Council this earlier, knowing it was the question Clarke worried about most. "You will be allowed to finish your medical training." Clarke sighed and her whole body relaxed as she sat back in her chair. "But not with me, and not in medical station."
Clarke's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked, though by the torment in her voice Abby could tell she already understood.
She'd pushed, begged, but the Council had stood firm in their decision that Clarke would train and work wherever her husband lived. Wherever she would now live.
She clenched the tablet, looking down again at the face of the man who was stealing her daughter. She knew this wasn't his fault and that he probably had no real say in anything, but in that moment he was so easy to blame him. This janitor from Factory who agreed to take her daughter like chattel – and probably getting paid handsomely for it, in some way – stealing her from her home, her family, her friends, her future, her dreams.
She swallowed thickly, unable to look Clarke in the eye as she tried to offer an explanation in her answer. "The clinic in Factory is in dire need of staff."
Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head as tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Abby's throat tightened as she tried to hold back her own tears. "They'll be so lucky to have you." Her heart squeezed in her chest. She leaned forward reaching her hand across the table, only realizing too late that Clarke's were still in her lap. "Baby…" Her voice broke, shattering against her daughter's cries like glass.
"I'll never see you again," Clarke wept.
Abby's eyes opened wide, fierce determination flooding inside her. "Yes you will. I won't leave you alone, I promise." She stood and made her way to Clarke's side, kneeling down and taking her wet face in her hands, looking into her daughter's shining eyes. "I'll come to see you as often as I can. I'm always with you." She pulled Clarke forward, cradling the girl's head to her chest.
"No one will take us away from each other."
xxxxxxxxx
Clarke slowly opened her eyes, rubbing away the sleep there. She turned her head and was just able to make out Abby's profile in the dark.
After their discussion, they had laid in Abby's bed - "It's too big now without your dad," she'd said – and held her again as Clarke cried out her frustration and fear till they both fell asleep in exhaustion.
Her whole life had turned upside down within just a few months, and now she wouldn't even have her mother to help her through it.
She quietly left the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen table. On it, lay the tablet her mother had been clutching, the tablet with all the information… his information. She loomed above it, staring at it as it tempted her with its blinking green light.
She inhaled and her nostrils flared. She'd meant what she'd said earlier – looking at his picture, reading the bare bones of his information that they'd been given, wouldn't matter. She'd find it all out soon enough anyway.
She stared at the small device, curiosity eating away at the emotions that had been clouding her before. She timidly reached out her finger, running it lightly across the smooth screen. It abruptly came to life, filling the semi-dark room with light. She blink and squinted at the brightness, but her eyes slowly adjusted to the change… and then she was looking at the face of her future husband.
The first thing she noticed was how dark he was – exotic, she thought – so different from her. His hair, his skin, his eyes… his eyes looked just as black as his hair, she'd never seen anyone with eyes so dark – so dark and deep you could drown in them. She looked over at his ID description – they were brown, not black, but that didn't stop the shiver of fear from running down her spine. He was attractive, but that didn't mean he would be kind or understanding. Not for the first time, she wondered why the hell he was agreeing to this. What is he getting out of it?
In these situations – as rare as they are, or so said the Council – if termination is not chosen, then both parties were responsible, but her case was different, and this man, whom she had never even seen, was willing to take on the responsibility that belonged to another man – not only that, but also agreeing to never father a child of his own.
She wasn't an idiot – she wasn't a prize, and no one would bend so far backwards without getting something in return.
"Are you alright?"
Clarke jumped, gasping in the near dark.
Abby came closer and Clarke could see her apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."
Clarke shook her head. "I'm just… nervous, I guess."
Abby gently took hold of Clarke's arm. "You have every right to feel nervous, and angry." She took another step forward, her dark eyes boring into Clarke's blue ones. "But you don't have to."
Clarke tilted her head slightly before finally understanding her mother's meaning. "Mom-"
Abby's hold became tighter – desperate. "It's not too late."
Clarke raised her brows as her eyes widened. "Don't," she warned.
"Please, just listen-"
"No! You promised-"
"I'm keeping my promise." Abby pressed her lips together before continuing. "I will stand behind whatever decision you make, but I'm still your mother, and it's my job to tell you when I think you're making a mistake."
Clarke looked away, her jaw clenched. When the Council had advised the best solution to her unlucky set of circumstances was termination, she'd immediately said no. This was a life she had created, even unintentionally, and she wasn't going to punish it for her mistake – or that of the Council and the shoddy IUD devices they refused to acknowledge. Unfortunately, being under eighteen, it wasn't up to her, but her guardian. Her mother had fought and argued her point to her daughter – it also so happened to be the Council's point – but Clarke stood firm and Abby, thankfully, agreed to stand beside her, even if she disagreed – though not without still trying to persuade her.
"Look at everything you're giving up. Your future will be nothing like you planned. Everything will be so much harder for you. Your friends, your home," Abby shook her head, both hands now gripping Clarke's arms. "Baby, you need to think about this."
Clarke looked steadily into her mother's eyes. "I have," she said firmly. "I'm having this baby, and if the Council says the only way that that's possible is by marrying him," she nodded down to the tablet, "then I will."
