Title: "Hunger of the Pine"
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13/Light R
Character/Pairing: Clarke, Bellamy, Indra, Lincoln, Lexa, Bellamy, Octavia, Wells, Finn, Monty
Spoiler: N/A
Length: multi-part
Summary: 85 years after a nuclear war, Jake Griffin discovers that Earth is habitable and sets out to prove it. He takes his daughter with him. Clarke survives the trip and grows up Trigedakru. She becomes Trigedakru. But then, another dropship lands and she has to make a choice. Or, a reimagined version of seasons one and two where Clarke is raised on the ground and all roads still lead to Bellamy Blake.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.
Author's Note: Fic exploded in length, meaning more chapters and more updates. I don't think anyone will be disappointed. Thanks for the support!
A red horse arrives bearing a rider from the Falls.
His mask is a grotesque crow, with beady eyes and a twisted beak, and Clarke feels him watching her as he trots into the yard. The people of tonDC have nearly forgotten she wasn't born on the ground, but strangers see her as just that. Foreign. Different. iStrange/i.
Indra's eyes flash, but she orders the gonas to lower their spears. "Heya," she calls out.
The rider removes his mask to reveal dark hair and an arrogant grin. "Heya, Indra," he says in return. "Anya gif me." His grins widens slightly. "Yu kru ste taim em kamp." Your people stay until she comes."
Indra hisses slightly but doesn't argue, gestures to her attendants to bring the rider food and water. Damon, Clarke thinks his name is. She's not fond of Anya or her kru. Indra is the heda of tonDC but Anya is the heda of the southern Trikru, and her authority supersedes all others'. Indra is a strong warrior, but she's also a loyal soldier and she falls in line, even if she doesn't like it. It's a quality that Clarke admires and loathes in equal measure. She understands the need for order in their world, but she believes that every voice should be heard. It was her dad's dream, why he died bringing her to the ground, to build something new out of the ashes of what they used to have.
The village watches Damon warily but goes about their business, including Kolya. He has guard duty that morning and Indra sends him of within ten minutes of Damon's arrival.
"I should be here," he protests. He's seventeen and eager for battle, to put a braid in his hair to commemorate his first kill. The last thing he wants is to spend the day watching the west bank of the river.
Indra fixes him with her iciest glare. "Ste un gona," she says and gives him a shove for good measure. Kolya sulks, but does as he's asked, disappears into the trees with his spear and canteen. Indra turns her stare to Clarke once he's gone, and while she doesn't say anything, Clarke can hear her words loud and clear.
"I'll check on him," Clarke says, catches Indra's nod as she hurries to their tent to grab her pack.
She finds Kolya by the river, moodily staring at the rocks lining the shallow bank and drumming the shaft of his spear against the hard packed dirt. Clarke whistles twice to let him know that she's coming and sits down beside him.
"Did she send you?"
"I volunteered."
Kolya angrily shakes his head. "Doesn't even trust me to stay on my post."
Clarke knows better than to touch him when he's angry, stares at the water instead. The current is higher than usual and the occasional bit of white water roils every now and then. The star has upset the balance of more than the woods. "I wanted to be there too, but we all have a job to do. Someone always needs to watch the river. You know that."
He sighs, the fight gone out of him. "I know. It's just…something fell from the sky and Anya's coming!"
She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She's far more interested in the dropship than the Falls' heda. "We'll know what it is soon enough."
"Will you stay?" Kolya looks at her from beneath heavy lashes, practically bats them at her.
Clarke rolls her eyes this time and lightly lobs a pebble at him. "You don't have to beg. You know I won't leave you."
He loosely wraps an arm over her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "Good. Because I might need a nap." She lobs another rock at him.
The morning passes. Clarke draws and practices her sutures on a length of twine. She needs to keep busy, to keep from thinking about the dropship. She can't let herself hope that her mom was on it; she can't let herself hope that she wasn't. Kolya sits ramrod straight beside her, spear in hand and eyes locked on the river. Nothing changes, but they still wait.
It's midday when they hear the voices and wordlessly exchange a look, Kolya drawing back his spear while Clarke takes out her knife. She knows they're from the dropship. Their voices are loud and carefree; they're making no attempt to hide their approach. They see them soon, a girls and three boys, laughing as they tie together a rope. It's immediately clear what they're going to do but it happens too fast for Clarke to call out a warning. One of the boys takes the rope and swings, neatly lands on her side of the river.
Kolya's spear flies. He didn't mean to throw it, but there was no way to avoid it. It's in his blood – in both of their blood – to keep trespassers away. They've been trained since birth to protect their village. Throwing the spear is as natural as breathing.
"Branwada," he curses, watches the boy fall as his friends scatter. Clarke hears their screams, "They shot him! Oh my god! Run, everyone RUN!"
She watches helplessly as they scatter into the trees. "Casus belli," she mumbles under her breath. Cause of war. Their first interaction with the survivors shouldn't have happened this way.
At her side, Kolya is shaking. He's also realized his mistake, what it could cost his village, his people, and he turns to Clarke with pleading eyes. "What do we do?"
Clarke takes a breath and surveys the damage. The boy is lying twenty meters away with a spear in his chest, but he's still alive. She can hear the painful rattle of his breath. If they can heal him, they can fix this. "Help me build a travois."
It's almost sundown when they drag the boy to Nyko's hut. The spear is still in his chest but the bleeding has stopped and while his pulse is slow, it's steady beneath Clarke's fingers. She thinks he has a chance. Nyko doesn't ask questions, just orders Kolya to saw off the spear and for Clarke to prepare his instruments. She washes her hands and helps Nyko remove the spear, holds blood vessels and inserts clamps and stitches the incision together with a thin piece of wire. They pack the wound with yarrow paste and stare at their patient. He's pale and slightly feverish, but alive. Clarke still can't believe they pulled it off.
"When can we move him?" she asks.
Nyko stares at the boy dispassionately. "As soon as possible. You shouldn't have brought him here."
Kolya looks at her helplessly and Clarke sends him a meaningful look, hopes he listens and pulls himself together. "I'll talk to Indra."
"The entire village saw you drag him in," Nyko says. "Anya's had a guard outside the door for the last thirty minutes. She'll want to see you."
Clarke washes the blood from her hands and takes a deep breath before opening Nyko's door.
Damon and two masked warriors are waiting and they wordlessly escort her and Kolya to the meeting hall. Anya looks less than happy to see them. "You were to wait for my command."
Kolya raises his chin the way Clarke taught him. "He crossed the river. I was defending our territory."
Anya looks to Clarke. "But you brought him here."
"They don't know our ways. I thought if we saved his life, they would see it as a peace offering."
Anya's eyes narrow. "You don't make those decisions."
Clarke looks to Indra for guidance, but her face is unreadable. "You're right, heda," Clarke says. Even without words, she knows the advice Indra would give: fall in line, serve your heda, do not challenge your own. "I should not have interfered."
Anya nods, satisfied, but the interrogation isn't over. "You were born Skaikru."
"Yes, heda. Many years ago. But I am Trigedakru now." She pushes up her sleeve to show the caduceus inked into the skin of her wrist. "Ai laik a fisa."
The other woman's stare is long and accusing and Clarke tamps down the urge to look away. Anya's stare is unnerving, but Clarke did nothing wrong. She saved the boy's life to avoid a war and no more. She won't let Anya spread lies about her.
"You will take him back," Anya finally says and Clarke nods, lets out a relieved breath. "Let them see what happens if they cross the Trigedakru."
"Yes, heda," Clarke repeats and bows her head out of respect. She leaves quickly before Anya changes her mind.
The boy is sleeping peacefully and his fever has dimmed slightly. She looks at Nyko. "We leave a first light."
He sighs tiredly. "I'll have him ready."
Clarke rests her head on the boy's thin chest, listens to the weak beat of his heart beneath the flesh she stitched back together. Anya's accusation weighs heavy on her mind. It's more than the stitches that she needs to hold.
Dawn breaks and the boy is still breathing.
Clarke and Kolya load him onto the travois and take him across the river. It's slow work dragging his dead weight, but they get him to the designated spot by midday. She's sure to check his pulse before they tie him to the tree and it's still somewhat faint, but steady. She packs more yarrow into the wound for good measure.
Lincoln took a scouting party out the day before and Kolya is anxious to get home to attend the debriefing. Clarke wants to know about them too, but not before collecting more Echinacea. It has a limited growing season and she knows a flowering patch not far away. Kolya drags his feet as he follows behind her, but keeps his knife in hand just in case.
"Teik's go." He looks around nervously. It's quiet in this portion of the forest. Maybe too quiet.
Clarke's just sliding on her pack when she hears it, a low growl that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
"Ripas," Kolya whispers, gestures at Clarke to start moving. "Run!"
They take off into the woods, a pack of snarling cannibals at their back. They run together but the Reapers are surprisingly clever, circling around them so they're trapped in a small clearing. Clarke can practically feel their breath on her face, their jagged teeth ripping into the column of her throat. A tree bumps painfully against her head. She takes Kolya's hand.
"At my signal, run."
"No – " she tries, but he cuts her off.
"You're a healer, Clarke. They need you more than me."
"Kolya – "
He squeezes her hand. "Tel ai nomon bilaik ai hodnes hehr." Tell my mother that I love her.
Clarke doesn't have time to argue because then he's screaming, his war cry piercing the air, and she's running, so far and so fast that her feet barely touch the ground. Her pack bounces against her back and her braids whip around her face and her lungs ache, burn with the fight to survive, but she runs. Runs until the ground disappears beneath her and she isn't running anymore because she's falling, falling, falling.
She grasps for purchase and digs her fingers into the lip of a baga trap. It's almost funny, that she got away from Reapers only die in a pit her people use to capture enemies. But it isn't funny because she's halfway to dead. The pack drags her down but she can't take it off, not with the dirt crumbling beneath her hands. She digs her toes into the walls, but she can feel her fingers slipping, body inching closer to the sharpened spikes lining the bottom of the pit. She's seen the damage those spikes can do and it makes her fight harder.
A hand wraps around her wrist, long, tapered fingers that flex with strength. "Pull her up," a deep voice orders. There's a slight tug and then they're dragging her up the wall. She hears heavy breathing and she knows something about pulling dead weight, kicks up the wall to ease the burden.
It's awkward when they pull her onto solid ground, with the pack poking into her back and the late afternoon sun glaring angry and bright into her eyes, and she takes a long minute to just breathe. She's alive. She's alive and Kolya's almost certainly dead. She shoots to her feet and brushes her hair from her eyes to take stock of her surroundings. She's a three-hour walk from tonDC and would rather not travel at night, but it can't be avoided. Indra needs to know what happened to her son.
The whispers surround her. "She's one of them!" "She's going to kill us too!"
"No one's dying today." Clarke recognizes the voice, a low, deep rumble. He's the one that saved her life. She raises her eyes to meet his and they're dark and blazing, set in a face with freckles sprinkled across his cheeks like stars in the sky. He regards her steadily, lifts one corner of his shirt to reveal the gun tucked into his pants. His skin is smooth and gold all over. "I got this covered."
He reaches for her, but Clarke is Trigedakru and she's quicker, pulls the knife from her boot and slashes it across his bare forearm. He howls and releases her, staggers back towards his people while she takes off into the forest. This time she knows the way, doesn't stop running until she's at tonDC's gate.
Indra is waiting for her. She doesn't say anything or stand up but Clarke can see it when Indra looks behind her for Kolya. "Ripas," Clarke says and watches Indra's face close in on itself. Without a word, she gets up and pushes through the flap of the tent, disappears into the night. Clarke lets her go, gives her space to mourn. They left her alone her first weeks in camp. She owes her nomon the same. She also does her best to straighten up. She lights the fire and turns down Indra's bed, starts on Kolya's before she remembers. Kolya is dead; he's dead because of her. She drops to her knees and cries into her hands. There's no one left to comfort her. It's the first lesson she learned on the ground.
Later that night, she goes to the bathing pool to wash away the day's ghosts. There's dirt on her skin and leaves in her hair and she still hears Kolya's screams in her head. "Run," he'd said and she had, she'd run with speed she didn't know she'd possessed. She'd run and she'd left him behind. It will haunt her until the end of her days.
Indra is back when Clarke returns from the pool, her blanket pulled up over her head. It's her signal that she doesn't want to be disturbed and Clarke pads past her and rolls into her own bed. She's halfway to sleep when Indra cries out, a loud, keening wail that seems even louder in their small tent. Under her blanket, her shoulders shake with sobs. There's a good chance it will end with a punch to her face or scathing lecture, but Clarke risks Indra's wrath, climbs into her nomon's bed and curls into her back. It's almost dawn when Indra sinks into sleep, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.
Clarke teaches her a new lesson – she stays with her all night long.
The tent is too small. It was too small when it housed three people and it feels even smaller in Kolya's absence. He might be gone but it's filled with his things and the memories crowd around Clarke and take up all the space. She bursts from the tent to take deep, gulping breaths.
Her neighbors watch her warily and keep a distance. She doesn't know if it's the dropship or Kolya but they don't look at her the same way. She feels like a stranger in her own home.
Nyko crosses his arms as she rummages through the pots of medicines and herbs. "This is a bad idea."
Clarke shoves a jar of powdered ginger into her pack. "I can't stay there."
"So you'll go there?"
She raises her chin. "You're not scolding Lincoln." She'd heard the rundown at breakfast: lots of kids, no weapons, total chaos. No adults either. Anya had ridden out soon after. Clarke had felt her heart plummet into her chest. Whatever she would find there, her mom wouldn't be part of it.
He sighs. "Linkon ste a gona." Clarke ignores him and adds garlic and chamomile to her pack.
"I need to do something."
"Yu laik Klark kom Trigedarku."
"Sha, ai laik. Ba ai'm em seintaim." But I'm them too. "I need to know who I am," she whispers.
Nyko presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Be careful."
She smiles and straps on the pack. "I'll be back by dark." She pauses in the doorway. "You'll look in on Indra? Make sure she eats?" Nyko grumbles but Clarke knows he's good for it.
It's not hard to find the dropship. The undergrowth is trampled and they're making enough noise to be heard in the Dead Zone. Still, she approaches slowly. There's a loose interpretation of a wall but no guards. She quickly scans the trees. No Trigedakru gonas either.
She takes a deep breath and lets herself be seen. A cry erupts from within the wall but she holds her hands in the air and takes slow, mincing steps. She still has a knife in her boot but no other weapons. If they search her bag, they'll find only medicines. She practiced her cover story on the walk over. She's curious about these people, but not ready to reveal her true identity yet. Not until she gets a feel for who they are. What they are. She doesn't want to do anything to risk more bloodshed.
"It's her!" someone yells. "The grounder girl!"
Clarke manages to keep her expression neutral. Grounder girl?
Then, a knife at her throat. It's actually a hatchet, but she won't learn that until later. "I'm not here to hurt you," she says and does her best not to swallow. The knife doesn't move and she's pulled tighter against a broad, solid chest.
"You tried to kill Jasper." That deep voice again.
Jasper. The boy. She's glad to hear that he's still alive. "It was an accident. There's medicine in my bag. I can help him."
Clarke doesn't like the boy assigned to check her pack. He has a hard beauty but it's the look in his eyes she finds unsettling. Predatory. He'd fit in well with the Ice Clan. "She's telling the truth." The boy throws the pack back at her. "No reason we can't kill her though." He laughs and it sends a shiver down Clarke's spine.
"Not today, Murphy." The knife drops from her neck and her captor lets her go.
She's struck again by how handsome he is, with that mess of dark hair and gleaming dark eyes. His arms bulge when he crosses them over his chest. "So you came to heal us."
Clarke looks pointedly at the poorly bandaged cut on his forearm. "You did save my life. Thought I'd return the favor."
"Who are you?"
"Klark," she says, careful to draw out the single syllable. She doesn't want them recognizing her yet. He doesn't react and neither does the small crowd, so she presses forward. "You are?"
"Bellamy." He gestures at a younger girl with long, dark hair. "You can start with her." He stalks off towards a tent, his kru of lackeys following closely behind. Clarke's glad to be rid of Murphy.
"I'm Octavia," the girl says as she rolls up her pants leg. "Sorry about my brother. He's power tripping today and it's pretty unbearable for all of us."
Clarke smiles as she examines the wound. "I have – " She pauses and blinks back tears. "Brothers can be difficult."
Octavia must sense her change in mood because she doesn't ask more questions, just watches Clarke closely as she applies a yarrow paste and bandages the wound. "What's it like growing up here?"
Clarke glances up from repacking her bag. "What do you mean?"
Octavia stretches her arms towards the sky. "All this air, all this space. It's like paradise."
The ground saved her, but it also took so much from her, her dad and Costia and Kolya most of all. The best she can manage is a small smile. "We take the good with the bad."
Octavia nods like she understands and maybe she does. Clarke knows nothing of her life. "I think you're right." She smiles brightly. "I'll take you to Jasper."
Clarke ignores the stares as Octavia leads her into the dropship, but she takes in every detail. It's much larger than the one she took to the ground – three levels – but it brings back memories, especially when they climb to the second level and she spots a pile of seatbelts in the corner. It's her last memory of her life before, her daddy buckling her into the dropship and telling her everything would be okay. Sometimes she thinks he's right and at other times, couldn't be more wrong. She sees Jasper writhing in pain and hopes it's the former.
Silence falls as Clarke follows Octavia onto the level. "This is Klark," she says "She's here to help."
There are two others huddled by Jasper's side, both male and both dark haired. One has shaggy hair and the other has floppy hair and it's how she can tell them apart.
"Can you save him?" Shaggy asks.
"I'm going to try."
Carefully, she unwraps her own handiwork and examines the wound. It's messy with pus and starting to smell. There's no telling what was living on Kolya's blade. Without additional help, he won't make it through the night.
"We need bloodroot," she says. "It grows by the river and when brewed into a tea, will heal the infection." She rewraps the wound and pushes to her feet. "We need to hurry."
"I'm coming with you," Shaggy tries, but Octavia stops him with a light touch on his arm.
"We still need someone to work on the wristbands," she reminds him.
Floppy doesn't say anything.
Jasper screams, loud and throaty and laced with pain, just as Bellamy pokes his head through the ladder hole. "The kids a goner. If you can't see that, you're delusional."
Clarke turns to face him and raises her chin. He's bigger than her and taller than her, but he doesn't know her. She's not backing down. "I can help him but it requires additional herbs. I'm going to the river. Your sister and I will handle it."
Octavia groans. "My sister stays here." Bellamy glances at Floppy. "Take Finn. He's a good tracker, helped us find Jasper."
"That spear was thrown with pinpoint accuracy – " Finn starts.
Clarke rolls her eyes and starts for the ladder. "I'll go on my own."
Bellamy catches her wrist before she's climbed a single rung. His hands are still big and strong, dark where hers are pale. She stares at their contrasting skin before she meets his eyes. "Why do you care?" he asks.
This could be the moment when she reveals the truth, that she was born to them – of them – but she doesn't want to lie. It's part of why she came to their camp, but it's not the reason she's trying so hard to save Jasper.
"I don't want to lose anyone else," she says and something changes in Bellamy's eyes, a flicker of understanding that's there then gone. He lets go of her wrist.
She's disappointed when Bellamy doesn't come with them, but Finn is decent company. He cracks jokes that are a nice distraction from her grief and he doesn't ask questions. She thinks Bellamy would have asked questions, but Bellamy is hunting rather than helping to save Jasper's life. The rest of his people need to eat and it's his responsibility to feed them. She thinks about that a lot on the brisk walk to the river. She thinks Indra would have done the same.
The bloodroot is easy to find. It glows a deep, vibrant red in the otherwise clear river and Clarke quickly collects enough to fill Finn's bag. "We're being followed," she says as she secures the pack. She's known for a while now, heard the heavy tread of boots a few meters behind them. "One of yours." Her kru would never make so much noise.
Another boy crashes through the underbrush, panting for breath, his forehead glistening with sweat. "I was out getting water when you left," he wheezes. "Octavia said you'd be here. I figured I should tag along since I'm our resident healer." He smiles at Clarke. "Who are you?"
She's taken aback by his eyes, dark and rich like fresh soil. Kolya's eyes in another boy's face. She can feel the blood draining from her face.
"Are you okay?" the boy asks.
Suddenly the air gets very still and even the river seems to slow down. A flock of crows almost runs them over. It's enough to knock her out of her daze.
"No," she whispers. Not again. Twice in three days is a new record. The Maun-de is sending them a message. "Run," she says as the horn sounds in the distance. "RUN."
They follow her to the automobile she and Kolya discovered the summer they were thirteen. It's old and rusted but big enough to hold all three of them. She collapses in a corner with the bag of bloodroot clutched in her arms. It's too much being in this car that Kolya found with the boy that has Kolya's eyes. She feels like she can't breathe.
"Are you okay?" the boy says again and even Finn looks concerned.
She tries to nod but it's too hard. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest and her lungs aren't working and her skin is hot and covered in sweat and she might never leave this car. Her eyes are wide with panic.
"It's okay," the boy says, crouches in front of her and takes her hands. "Listen to the sound of my voice. Breathe with me." He counts in twos then fours then sixes and by the time they get to eights, Clarke doesn't feel like she might die. "Feeling better?"
She nods and pulls a canteen from her pack, takes a sip and offers some to the boys. They decline.
"Well done, Chancellor," Finn says.
Clarke looks at the other boy over her water bottle. Chancellor? Even she knows that he's much too young.
"Thanks, Spacewalker." Finn frowns and retreats to his side of the car.
Suddenly, a look of amazement comes over the boy's face. "You're Clarke Griffin," he whispers. "You look exactly the same. You still have that beauty mark above your lip." She involuntarily touches her mouth. Wells grabs her left ankle and pushes up her pants leg. "You got this scar during Red Rover when we were four." He keeps staring at her. "How is this possible?" Finn perks up too, studies her face.
Clarke ignores him and focuses on laughing eyes and straight brows, the smiling face she loved as a girl. "Wells?"
She falls into his arms and he falls into hers, hugs her so tight it feels like he might crush her. "How?" he asks again.
"We came by dropship when I was five. My dad died but I survived. The Trig – the Grounders – took me in and raised me as their own. I've been here ever since."
"I've heard of suicide by dropship, but never coming to the ground by choice." Wells still looks a little dumbstruck.
Clarke feels the same but talking about the dropship makes her remember the most important detail – she and her dad, they left someone behind. "My mom, is she okay?"
Wells nods. "Everyone said she was crazy, but she always thought you were alive. She never gave up hope."
"Your mom is Councilor Griffin?" Finn sounds a bit incredulous.
Clarke looks to Wells for guidance. He nods. "My dad's the chancellor. Weird, right?"
It is strange, but at least the nickname makes sense. She can find out more about "Spacewalker" later. "Now that you know my story, tell me yours. How did you end up on the ground?"
Wells and Finn exchange a look. "Life support is dying – " Wells starts.
"It means the Ark is running out of oxygen," Finn clarifies.
" – there's maybe six months of air left before the Ark dies. The human race would die with it."
"Or so we thought."
Wells shoots Finn an irritated look. "They sent us here to see if the ground is habitable, if our people could survive." He smiles at her. "They were right."
"But why you? Why children?"
Finn laughs. "Because we're expendable. They sent the criminals to the ground hoping we would die." His smile is bitter. "They were wrong."
Wells sighs. "We committed crimes."
Finn rolls his eyes. "We should have had rights."
"But you're here now," Clarke says to stop the argument before it starts. They're in a very small space. She's seen gonas instigate fights with a single look from twenty feet away.
"And so are you. What was it like living with the Grounders?"
Clarke bites her tongue to keep from correcting Wells. The less he knows about her people the better. "Strange at first, but then it was just my life."
"That's it?" Finn says. "All you're going to say is, "it was my life?'"
"They're my people." She might have been born on the Ark, but Nyko, Indra, Lincoln – they're the family she chose.
Silence falls over the small space and Clarke glances at the window, sees a clear sky above. "The fog's lifted," she says. "Let's go."
They're quiet on the walk back, a gloomy silence that matches her mood, which makes the scream even louder. It's shrill and high-pitched – a child's cry – and all three take off at a run across the forest floor. The girl is gone when they get there, but Bellamy is kneeling at the boy's side.
"Take the bloodroot back to camp. Make a tea out of it," she calls to Finn and Wells and examines the boy. He's covered in festering blisters and boils, his features heavy with pain.
"What's your name?"
Bellamy answers for him. "Atom."
Clarke forces a smile and brushes Atom's hair back from his face. "Kill me," he whispers.
For a moment her hands freeze. She killed Kolya already. She can't have more blood on her hands. She gazes into his ruined face, eyes blue as a summer sky. This is different. She can take away his pain. She can help him the way she couldn't help Kolya.
"Okay," she says softly. "I'm going to help you, alright?" She meets Bellamy's gaze and gives a slight shake of her head. His fingers tremble around the knife he's holding. Calmly, she takes the knife.
She cradles Atom's face in her hands and hums under her breath, leads him into the next world the same way she did for her daddy. "Yu gonplei ste odon," she whispers and closes his eyes. She can feel Bellamy staring at her as Atom's blood seeps into the forest floor.
"I'm sorry," Bellamy's voice is a hollow rasp.
"Why?"
He looks ashamed. "Because you did what I couldn't. Atom was my people. It should have been me."
He wears the face of a different man. Pale. Defeated. He lacks all the arrogance of their earlier interactions. It only makes her like him more. Tentatively, she takes his hand. He grasps hers like a lifeline.
Later, she shows him how to make a travois and helps him pull Atom's body back to his camp. She gives Octavia a hug and checks on Jasper, laughing with Shaggy – Monty – and on the mend.
She finds Bellamy outside the wall watching the stars. He smiles tentatively at her. "Thank you again."
She takes his arm and pulls back the bandage to examine the wound. His skin is warm but not feverish. Still, she lets her fingers linger a moment longer than necessary. "You didn't understand this world," she says and rubs yarrow over the cut. "Now you do."
He nods. "They said you were born on the Ark."
"I was." She focuses on wrapping the bandage around his arm. "My dad put me in a dropship when I was five. I'm lucky the Trigedakru found me." Her hands freeze, realizes her mistake.
If he notices, he doesn't let on. "Will we see you again?"
She ties off the bandage. "I don't know. What I did for Jasper was a peace offering."
He's very close, eyes dark and shadowed in the moonlight. "We have a saying among my people. i May we meet again/i." He ducks his head and kisses her, hard and fast, leaves her breathless.
"May we meet again," she whispers as the gate swings closed behind him.
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