Whoot! I'm back into the groove of writing this, as shown by my extremely long chapter here ;) And while I only got two reviews this time around, I am not deterred from writing! I do get it, I was gone awhile. Hopefully my reviewers will return!

On this note, thanks so much to fanfictionreadergirl001 and MadisonEmrys :) You guys made my day and fueled the fire to write this!


Bellamy did something he never had done before; he visited Hell during the day.

Not that it was a conscious thing, as if he had wanted to see if it was different during the day. The consul decided that with so much work on everyone's shoulders, everyone should get a day off in turn. It had started when Clarke had begun to cough. She had insisted she could still work (even though she hadn't slept a good sleep in days) and had ended up falling ill. Her mom had pointed out to Kane, who was firm in his opinion against the idea of 'days off', that without a day to rest, more people would fall ill. There were a lot of things here to be careful of; on the Ark they'd had it laughably easily in comparison to the coming danger of winter.

It was finally Bellamy's turn off. He saw Clarke watching him as he left the camp with narrowed eyes, although it wasn't an unusual thing for people to do. They hadn't seen a grounder tribe in weeks, and other than dangerous animals, their guns had been unused in recent times. If only life were so simple as that; no more trouble. Instead, the air had only grown colder and now none of the trees had any leaves, unless they were pine trees. It unnerved Bellamy in a way he couldn't describe.

But it was his day off in which he found himself back down in his personal Hell, pun intended. Finn greeted him. He had seemed to sense his coming and goings like a strange Bellamy-bloodhound. Decked out with a clipboard and a couple pens, he stood at the foot of the path. If Finn had to be his secretary, or the go-between the dead and himself, he was going to be darn organized about it.

"You're here early. I think." Finn said, frowning, "Or am I just crazy?"

"No, it's noon." Bellamy sighed, his tone closing the topic from further questions. His eyes immediately began to swivel around, and when he saw his target, his face split into a grin, "Mom." He breathed in relief.

He had to admit, he was a little selfish about this whole thing. He'd been five when Octavia was born, but a kid can't remember anything until they're at least six. His memories of a time not dictated by the preservation of an illegal sister was non-existent. So yes, he enjoyed this time he had with her that was just about them. There was no sister to compete with, no stress of trying to do odd jobs to keep them all fed or worse, no worries here. It was odd, in that way. Death had freed his mother.

Yet it pained him, for if she'd stayed alive just a bit longer…she might have made it to the earth above. She wouldn't have had to pretend Bellamy was her only child anymore.

And it wasn't that he never thought about Octavia wanting to know mom, it was he didn't know how. He didn't know if you could bring the living down without killing them. There was also the question if she'd even believe him, much less go down to a place her boyfriend was afraid of. In the long run, he told himself, it was more logical to just enjoy the time here with her.

They talked for a bit, before he heard Finn's annoyed grunting behind him, and he sighed, turning. "Work calls." He rolled his eyes. When he approached Finn, he saw his disapproving eyes, "What?"

"I told you-,"

"Not to get attached? I'm not, relax Collins." He scoffed, "I know she has to go across the river in due time." He said. Finn repressed a long exhale of breath, at the point- because he was dead- if only out of habit than actual need.

"Speaking of the boat," Finn motioned for Bellamy to follow as he ticked off something on his list, "Shouldn't you check on it?"

"I was getting around to it." Bellamy rolled his eyes, "Ah! Greg." He greeted the kind old man with a pat on the back.

"Mr. Blake." He said, and Bellamy began to open his mouth to insist to call him Bellamy, but was cut off, "The boat is almost done." He said with pride.

"A lot better than I could have done." Bellamy said with an appreciative whistle, looking at the bones of the boat the man had made, "Need any more tools?"

"No, I think at this point, I should be good. Besides, Finn is able to retrieve me tools I may need when you are not here." Greg shrugged. Bellamy winced.

"I wish you'd tell me. Finn leaves a trail of blood everywhere he goes. Believe me when I tell you those floors up there are not to be stained by something like blood, house of Hades or not." Bellamy said and Finn gave a mumble behind him.

"here we go again…" he said under his breath. Bellamy turned.

"They're expensive floors, Finn. So unless you carry a bucket around, I don't want to pull someone else from the crowd out to clean up after you. Now the boat-" He turned back around.

"Can I paint it?"

Bellamy just about jumped out of his skin.

"Christ!" he swore as he turned around, looking with a slight scowl at Charlotte. She had the uncanny ability to appear next to him without any sound at any given moment, "I need to put a goddamn bell on you."

"Can I paint the boat?" Charlotte questioned again.

"I don't even know if I have paint up there." Bellamy scratched the back of his neck, "But sure, whatever. You can paint the boat."

Charlotte beamed at him before Bellamy heard her mother calling her away. She bounced back to the gathered people with pep to her step.

"You're such a softie to her." Finn guffawed, shaking his head, "Father-like."

"She has a father." Bellamy resented that characterization of himself was 'father' instead of 'leader'. It wasn't the first time someone had described him like that. It may be that father and leader fell under the same character, but the former made him seem less stern, more paternal. Then again, Clarke was the undeniable mother hen of the group, so…

Bellamy looked away from where she'd left him, "I just…I feel like I need to make things up to her, you know? It's sort of my fault she's dead."

"That's what it is." Finn said, unbelieving, "So- this boat will fit five people, plus the boat master. And I already asked Greg, he said he'd prefer to move on."

"Who wouldn't?" Bellamy gave a long huff. There were many jobs that had once been taken care of by the many gods, spirits, or other immortal beings of the Greek era. But as their stories and popularity had died, so had they. This left Bellamy with a monumental list of places that someone needed to fill; some more in desperate need than others. The last time he'd been down, he'd talked a 'wanted' sign on the side of the cave, and left it to Finn to sort out and conduct job applications.

Why anyone would want to stay behind and work these jobs for an eternity was unfathomable to Bellamy. If he'd known what that book did, if given the choice he would have rejected Hades' role, but alas it was what it was now. But it didn't mean that maybe others shared his sentiments about this afterlife. He hoped; even as a God now, he couldn't do all the jobs at once, even if he was down here full time.

"We have some promising ones." Finn said, flipping a couple pages, "For each. I mean, there are a lot of people down here, you know. Should I bring them to you to make the final choice?"

"Yeah, but later today. I have some other stuff to attend to." Bellamy waved him off, but a rush of relief settled in his bones. He had been terrified that no one would want to do any of the jobs, and he'd be shit out of luck, "How's the crowd, in general?"

Bellamy didn't have time to listen to everyone's stupid gripes as it was and left Finn to also take complaints. It was a job he handed to the boy with a slight smirk. It was an awful thing to be in front of, and there was no person he would rather have doing it than Finn Collins.

"Contented, now that things are moving forward." Finn said, "And people are splitting off into groups, now that the reality of the afterlife, the real one, is upon them." He said, and as Bellamy looked over, he did indeed notice that they were much more segregated than before.

"Mhh." Bellamy made a noise to show he'd heard.

"They do have some recurring questions, though." Finn said, looking up, "The main one being how are you going to ferry people across?"

"On a boat Finn; thought you were smarter than this." Bellamy tapped Finn's head, motioning back to where Greg was working.

"No, like in what order."

"The order they died...?" Bellamy gave him an odd look, "As if there was any other fair way."

"Well, I mean, there are some good points. Like families, or husbands and wives that died years after each other. There are some couples that have been reunited for the last thirty or something years, and now you're going to tear them apart?"

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. Finn, arguably, had worthwhile points. Points Bellamy didn't want to have to face. It was times like these he hated being a leader, the choices like this that were bad either way.

"And also, people are wondering if they want to stay behind to wait for a loved one to join them, can they?"

Obviously, in a more fluid place, Bellamy's answer would have been 'no'. But people were used to being stalled here, as it was, and thus things were different.

"Sure for the second one, as long as there is a legitimate person they're waiting for. If they want to live down here forever, they have to join up on the job board." He pointed to the post above his head, "For the first…" Bellamy pressed his lips together.

"Families or loved ones can opt to go over together, but they need it written down in paper. You should do it, or maybe we should get an official secretary? You're going across eventually, and they have to go at the death spot of the most recent death. It's not fair for people to jump forward."

Finn's chin moved down at the pace of a snail. Bellamy couldn't tell if he agreed or not. "About as fair as I could expect, but you know people will argue it."

"People would argue anything. I could tell them the best news in the world and there would be some idiots offended."

Finn was quiet for a moment. "So…the boat will be ready soon. We go across and that's it?"

"Not quite." Bellamy raised a finger, pulling out the handbook from a pocket in his jacket that seemed to be made to hold it close to him. Then again, if they wanted to have a serious conversation about fate, it would go much further than a mere jacket pocket. Bellamy would have to argue it a greater power made like that because he was always going to be this new Hades and all that other crap. So he didn't go there, because it hurt his brain.

"So we're in the waiting area, I guess you could say, the loading dock. As far as I can tell, apart from the apocalypse, one of the greatest times of people stuffed in here was around World War II. This guy had like three boats and three ferry man and worked his ass off it seems, but even then, no one milled around more than a week or so. We're already in a extremely unusual situation. The dock used to be there, and that will need to be rebuilt too- mark that down to find someone to do that, would you?" He said mid-though, tapping Finn's clipboard, "Anyway, people load there and see that place way over there? That tiny speck of white? That is, in a sense, where 'Hell' sort of starts. It has paths to the possible places you could go, and the only way to get judged is by me."

"Shit, you have to be there." Finn said, "You're not even down here as it is."

"I actually have a life, you know." Bellamy said, the winced, "Bad pun."

"Damn right. So, okay, we go really fast taking people across?"

"Finn, come here." Bellamy sighed, sliding the book back into his pocket. He went to the water's edge, looking at the sad assortment of forgotten relics floating past, "Take this." He handed a long stick to Finn, "Now, pull that through the water, will you?"

Finn, looking at Bellamy like he was mad, complied. He frowned at the pressure against him the water fought, pressing the stick forward.

"What the hell?" He said, "It's like dragging something through syrup!"

"Yeah, it's no fast boat ride across. It also has to be circled seven times otherwise you don't get to the other end, to make things more difficult. " Bellamy said, "Why's it heavy? Weighed down by sadness or some other weird metaphorical stuff." He said, anticipating Finn's next question, who closed his mouth at his second additive.

"Greg should have built a literal ferry then." Finn threw the stick to the ground in frustration.

"Nope, wouldn't have worked. There's a spot there, see those rocks? That's where Cerberus would sit and stuff, the three-headed dog. The pass is pretty narrow-I gave Greg the size. Made it much longer and you just wouldn't have been able to paddle that many people."

"Well this is literally the most inconvenient set up I've ever heard of."

"It's Hell, Finn." Bellamy gave him an aggravated look, "It's not supposed to be easy or reasonable. Do you have the list of the deaths by the way?"

Finn fished for a large stack of papers, nodding. Bellamy had instructed Finn to make a detailed list of everyone's names, the year they died, and cause of death. Bellamy held it, whistling at the weight of the stack.

"Some of the grounders couldn't write their names. It was like pulling teeth to get them to cooperate, you know." Finn said, as if expecting more than a slight nod of appreciation in his direction.

"It's your job, dude. One that I think you offered, in the beginning." Bellamy said with a dry scoff. Bellamy still felt secure having the list. Even so, most could be figured out by cross referencing their cause of death. Finn was looking at him with slight expectation, yet trying not to look eager for another instruction. Did Bellamy think that Finn enjoyed being his job monkey? Likely not, but it beat doing nothing every day, like the majority of the people waiting.

"Look, I'm going to go up to my palace or whatever and check in on Maya. I'll try to get some paper work or something for those that want to wait behind or go with their loved ones. Maybe just lines, I'm not sure." Bellamy chewed his lip; he didn't know the amount of loose paper they had at their disposal. If push came to shove, he'd rather not write over a precious book, when they could also manage without it.

"Sure, Bellamy." Finn sighed, walking away, "Because I have a watch that works down here, because time goes on." Bellamy decided to ignore his sass, and turned to go up to his palace.

He went up the stairs, through the garden (glancing at the cracked stones and over-grown sidewalk), and through the brighter warmth of the room to his private library. He saw the candles flickering, even though this place had no sort of day or night, and breathed in the warmth this place exuded.

"Being careful not to burn any of my books?" He asked Maya, who sat cross-legged reading through a large tome with great caution to read each word, and jumped at his entrance. When she turned, Bellamy swallowed hard, trying not to look away or flinch, for the awful burns of death by radiation were present across her once pretty face. The churning guilt overthrew him for a moment, and his whole body stiffened.

"Bellamy." Maya smiled at him, "Please don't look at me like that." She asked, and Bellamy looked away, bashful.

"Erm, anything?" He asked. It had been on his previous visit a couple weeks or so ago when he'd been flipping through a book and found a solution to the current living situation problem back up on earth. They didn't have the ability or time to make separate living for everyone, and they had been building with the hope an idea would appear. Then, he'd seen an archaic drawing of what old Natives did when they were at the point his group was thousands of years ago. He'd brought back the idea of a large structure that everyone slept in together, with fires throughout to keep them warm, like an incubator.

While there was some general groaning about a 'lack of personal space', the council ignored it. Kane told everyone (in much more professional words) to 'grow the hell up and shut yer traps' and 'didn't you care about surviving the winter?' Of course, this shut people up after that. By next winter they'd have singular homes built after just one season of uncomfortable closeness. Now with a vision and plan, they'd pushed the building into overdrive.

So then, Bellamy had questioned what else might lie in these books as for useful information. He'd picked Maya out of the crowd, half-once again feeling guilty, but half because he'd heard from Jasper that she'd had an acute appreciation for art and history. He had been sure she'd treat his books with utmost care. She also wasn't bleeding profusely from stab-wounds, and so he also would not have to worry about his books stained by blood.

"Lots." Maya motioned to a whole bookcase now filled with books that hadn't before been there, or at least not all together.

"Wow." Bellamy said, stunned. He didn't even know where to begin looking through them. Maya giggled, seeing his expression.

"Don't worry. I made a list over there about which might be the most helpful in winter, might want to read those first." She said, pointing to a list that Bellamy might have written himself; it was so well documented and organized. Maya had impressed him.

He wished he had time himself to read all these books, which one day he would being immortal and all. Right now, though, it just wasn't plausible to spend all his time down here. The wigwam hadn't been the first idea brought back up to the surface, and he was beginning to think his excuse of 'I remembered it from reading it on the Ark' was drying up. Clarke was already looking at him with suspicion , wondering where he'd gotten the information. If there were any books that survived they should be in the camp, Clarke had pried. Also at this point some of the younger children were under the impression Bellamy had a photographic memory. Neither bode well with him.

But if one or all these books could help him and his group of people survives a harsh winter, should he care at all what others thought of him? He shook his head.

"How's…Jasper?" Maya's question was tentative. Bellamy half-turned toward her, feeling awful for her all over again. Did he dare tell her the truth?

"Recovering." He said with a firm tone, "He's…"He paused, "Still grieving."

Maya's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. "Stupid Jasper." She murmured, but with a tone of longing, "I'm gone. He shouldn't…I wouldn't want him…He still blames you and Clarke, doesn't he?" She guessed after a moment of studying Bellamy.

Bellamy had found it his own personal responsibility to let Maya and the other victims of Mount Weather, what had occurred down in the control room. It was only fair, and they deserved to hate him. They should hate him. The person that killed them was now passing judgment on their souls and that wasn't fair at all. It was sucky, he agreed. Maya was one of the few that had nodded at the revelation, and forgiven him quicker than he had wanted.

"Yes." Bellamy agreed, "Almost two and a half months and he still does." He wasn't going to deny it.

"He's understandably upset." Maya said, setting a book down, "I think he'll come around though."

"I hope. I couldn't care less about it, maybe I deserve it, but it gets to Clarke. And Monty, my god he hasn't' spoken to him in weeks."

"I never wanted to break up a friendship like that." Maya ran a hand through her hair, "I feel awful."

"You feel awful?" Bellamy scoffed, "That's ridiculous. You're dead, you're far worse off than he is, you do realize."

Maya was quiet. Bellamy exhaled through his nose. "If I could take him down here, I would. But then I'd have to do the same for them all, you know? And I can't…" He broke off, thinking of Octavia, Clarke, Miller, and everyone else who'd lost someone. That was everyone; no one was down on the ground without someone they missed.

"I don't expect special treatment." Maya assured, grabbing another book as she got up to write someone down on the ever-growing list, "I understand. One day he'll die too, as everyone must. I just hope that he's old enough to have grown over this and moved on."

"So you won't be staying around to wait for him, I take it." Bellamy asked. Maya shook her head.

"No. I loved him, but there's my dad and my mom too. I wouldn't want Jasper hanging on the edge waiting for me down here, you know?" She said, "That just wouldn't be reasonable."

Bellamy nodded, although it was hard to tell he'd done so at all. He looked at Maya, biting his lip with thought as he recalled something else he'd meant to ask her. Now, in front of her, he seemed unsure. Maya glanced up to catch his gaze before snapped his sight down, and she sighed.

"What?"

"I have a controversial question to ask you." He said, "Just for my benefit, not like it could change things." He added after a moment, and Maya tilted her head, "So winter is coming and we don't have a lot of supplies or any blankets. None, if I'm being honest. Yet Mount Weather has a lot and we buried all you, but-," He broke off, finding words coming to him with great difficulty.

"But would it be disrespectful?" Maya guessed.

Bellamy nodded. "We've been fighting for weeks about it." He said, wincing. He, even though he'd almost sworn never to go back there, couldn't deny their need for the supplies that Mount Weather had. It was all abandoned, as if waiting for them to pilfer. But were they those sorts of people? Pirates? Scavengers?

"Well," Maya gave a humorless laugh, "We're all dead. It's not like we need it. Disrespectful? Or, survival?" She questioned. Bellamy bit the inside of his cheeks.

"Thanks, once again, not like I could go back and tell them what you said." He reiterated, "But it helps me with my choice. We're voting on it tomorrow."

"I hope you do choose to. Someone deserves to use it." Maya shifted through a pile of books, grabbing one that she had bookmarked to a specific page. "Speaking of controversial issues…" She plopped the book in front of Bellamy and he leaned over to read the page. He checked the cover. Uses of Herbs. He looked again.

"Tansy?" He questioned, not following. Maya tapped the page.

"Contraceptive, if made into tea in the right way. And, in extreme cases…can abort unwanted children."

A shiver went up Bellamy's spine. No one had said anything back at camp about this, even though it was such a concern. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that children could be brought into the occasion. Yet, now that Maya laid it out in front of him, it was so clear that he should have been considering this…and he saw why she would assume it to be controversial.

On one hand, with their numbers so few, shouldn't any they welcome any children to make their camp stronger, larger? Repopulate their group, which more than two-thirds of which had died on the way down? Then again, the grand majority of their people was currently under the age of 25 and most were delinquents, or not ready at all to be parents. Was it worth repopulating to force a mere child to go through a pregnancy resulting of a mistake, when most of the people he knew were, at the core, immature and child-like?

He worried that if he brought this to Kane or Abbey, they'd want the former, and do away with it. Clarke, he realized, he should bring it to Clarke. She was a Doctor of the People, understood their friends, and would use it in a responsible way.

"It can be poisonous, if done without proper knowledge, which is why it is vital to be careful when making the tea. The instructions are here, and they're not suggestions." Maya brought him back to the present, tapping the page with ferocity.

"Yes, I would hate to have to greet someone down here after making that mistake," Bellamy agreed with a humorless laugh. He set the book by the door so he wouldn't forget it, "How long do you think I've been in here with you?" He asked. Maya shrugged.

He was well aware there was no perception of time down here. He realized his half-hour instruction to Finn had been more to spite him than anything else. Even so, he bid her good-bye, and she did seem relived to get back to reading uninterrupted. He walked outside to see Finn strolling up to him.

"They're all waiting, Bellamy." He said, nodding to a shuffling line of people in the courtyard.

"Are they arranged by job?" He asked. Finn shot him a look.

"What am I? Incompetent?"

"Well," Bellamy murmured under his breath, "I suppose…start sending them in." He shrugged. Finn handed him some papers.

"They're in order. Even so, if they're mixed up, you can just look at the cause of death and figure it out." Finn said, "I'm going back down, now."

"Have fun." Bellamy called out to him, and Finn gave a huff of annoyance.

Bellamy went to a small room outside of the rest of the house, near the courtyard, and called to the first one to come inside. The list he compiled of needed jobs was small, yet a perfect fit for his needs. He'd combed through the journal with care to see which helpers the other Hades had employed, and which deities that existed in the ancient times they'd done away with. For example, the Furies were long gone, something Bellamy had no intention of bring back. The personifications of ways to die (like old age, disease, or fear) that hovered outside the gates were also gone. This pleased Bellamy as well. The creatures that had once taunted the newly dead had been done away with. It was staying that way because Bellamy didn't know where he could find a chimera or a centaur even if he so wanted to. The elm of lost dreams or something had died eons ago, and having a gardener wasn't high on Bellamy's list of priorities. Melione, whose songs drove those to madness, didn't sound like a pleasant addition down here. And Cerberus? Well, Bellamy wanted a three-headed dog, but that was also out of the cards.

There were also just random gods or goddess that hand hung around, like Nyx, that didn't do much other than…exist. In fact, the only reason they were down there was because they were in association with death or gloom or something stupid like that. If there was one thing Bellamy hated, it was people doing nothing or being counterproductive. Even though there had been unofficial titles given to people of these throughout the years, for company in the dreary and large castle, Bellamy forged his own era by nixing them.

The list that he did need to employ had seven open spots, which was company enough for him, as far as he could tell. There was a psychologist to deal with all the stress and problems people had when they died. This was a new addition or suggestion, as recent as a couple years before the previous Hades passed. Looking out over the massive group of people, and already seeing a fight breaking out, Bellamy knew that this was much needed. It was still going to be quite a long time until anyone was moving. People might as well figure out their shit now.

He decided also to find language tutors. While he could learn most things from books, language was one he would prefer to learn from a person. The grounder language was a must; he needed it here and there. Any other language from the old world people spoke would only help him communicate with his dead better. This was a temporary position, unlike the others, for he only needed them until he was fluent.

There needed to be a Charon, or a boat driver. There needed to be his Hermes, which had evolved to an assistant, best described as what Finn was doing now. His Hermes would handle minor problems and be a spokesperson of the waiting dead. Bellamy would be replacing Finn soon and was glad, for Bellamy couldn't stand him most times, and he was sure Finn felt the same.

There would need to be a Hecate, who was the goddess of magic and things, but in the growing years, had just been a keeper of sorts of his house. Not a 'cleaning lady' or 'cook', but more someone to watch it whenever he was away, and also, indirectly he supposed, to be a gardener and keep the things in his garden alive. They used to keep the creatures and the dog happy, but there weren't any animals left down here.

Lastly, while the last Hades had judged souls on his own and done a good job of it, there were too many people Bellamy knew here. Some souls he feared he would judge out of spite, not from a unbiased base, and that couldn't happen. Not when this was the end-all of choices in life, the final destination. There were once three judges, none Hades, that would chose where a person went. He was taking on the role of Minos, who had the final say in times of conflict.

He would be employing a 'Aeacus', who was the keeper of keys, whatever the heck that meant. He would also need a Rhadamanthus, who was also the guardsman of Elysium. He figured between the three of them, each soul would get a fair chance at a judging.

This first person was for Rhadamanthus, and Bellamy felt their name slip out without thinking.

"Wells."

The black boy nodded to Bellamy, his eyes narrowed. They, erm, had pretty much hated each other back in the beginning. It was never fixed because Bellamy had indirectly encouraged Charlotte kill him. He regretted it, of course, but Wells most likely hated him. It was a reasonable assumption.

"Bellamy. I almost didn't believe it when I heard." He said coolly.

"So…Rhadamanthus." Bellamy twirled his thumbs. It made sense; he'd heard the talk of the Elites like Wells or Clarke in his youth. Everyone said that Wells was a shoe-in for Chancellor one day. He had all the right parts about him to be a leader, and to be a fair one at that. What better way to show them than to be an eternal judge of justice?

"Well, I can't let you do all the decisions of these souls yourself." He said, his voice even. In another tone, it might have been out of a sense of obligation, that it was a large job to do alone. But Wells' tone indicated that he thought Bellamy would fuck it up alone, or be unfair about it. It caused him to flinch. Perhaps that was answer enough.

But Bellamy couldn't help asking, "But don't you want to go on? What about your mom or your dad?"

Wells shifted uncomfortably, and Bellamy almost said he didn't have to answer, but he was curious, "No. My mom died when I was young, I don't remember her much at all. It's almost like trying to connect to a stranger, so I don't need to pass on with her. My dad?" Wells pressed his lips together, "I just…I don't need to go on."

"Don't you have a girl or anything, Wells?" Bellamy frowned, still not quite convinced he was ready to give up his chance at moving on (or at least until Bellamy decided to kill himself). That would be awhile, because Bellamy intended to read every single book in that library. It was a large library.

"Growing up, it was always Clarke. My best friend. I spent all my time on her, didn't notice other girls. Tried to keep her from the truth, as much as she hated me. And then I got sent down with her and the rest is history."

"You loved her." Bellamy surmised. Wells shrugged, he didn't deny it.

"It was obvious. I even told her, tow years before her dad was floated. She appreciated the honesty, but wasn't in love with me. I didn't expect it back." He said, and Bellamy could admire his quiet honesty, his standards and morals.

"It seems everyone's in love with the Princess." Bellamy said, rolling his eyes. Wells met his gaze.

"Are you?" He asked. Bellamy looked away, refusing to answer. It wasn't a denial, nor was it any sort of affirmation. It was that he didn't have to answer to Wells. Not this, not yet.

Wells didn't pressure him, and asked about the life upstairs a bit. Bellamy figured it was the best way as any to see if he'd be good as a justice giver, depending on his responses. When he said it was coming to snow soon, Wells jumped.

"What day is it?" He asked.

"Like November 29th. Why?" He frowned, and Wells sighed.

"December 1st. The day Clarke's dad was floated." Wells informed him, and Bellamy felt his blood go cold. He knew the day his mother died like a mark seared into his brain, so there was no way that Clarke was going to let the day pass without a thought.

"Geeze," Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, "If you were up there, what would you do? To make it better?" He asked.

Wells hesitated, but upon seeing the sincerity in Bellamy's eyes, he thought about it to reply. "I'd give her something to distract her. She does well when she has things to take her mind away from the awful things. It also shows forethought and care, and Clarke will remember that in the long run."

From the way he spoke, Bellamy was pretty sure Wells had done this whole bit before, from some other awful occurrence. Bellamy thanked him for his insight, but before Wells left, he gave one last hint.

"Clarke likes to paint and draw. I'd trade all my own things so she could entertain this hobby, an unpopular one on the Ark, due to the rarity of supplies. But in a place like this? I'm sure there's something you could dig up. Good luck with her. But since we're going to down here together in the long run, if you hurt her, and since you can't die, you're going to be in a world of hurt."

Bellamy believed his threat, and let himself sit in silence contemplating all that Wells had said before calling in the next candidate.


A good mixture of dead people seen, if I do say so myself. Someone on a different site guessed that Bellamy was going to recruit people to help him and read the library for tips on surviving above, so kudos for them for like being a literal mind-reader!

So, please take the time to review. Don't know what to write? How about you tell me which of your favorite dead people you'd like to see Bellamy have a run in with :P