Chapter 9
From Bellamy's point of view, the strangest thing about parting ways with Murphy and Emori was Emori's gratitude.
Bellamy believed that it was only because of his stubbornness and stupidity that a whole pile of shit had been brought down on her head. Emori considered it far more significant that he had risked his own life to save hers. He supposed both of those things were true, but he couldn't seem to convince her that the second circumstance wouldn't have been necessary if it hadn't been for the first.
Even Murphy seemed grateful, bypassing a farewell handshake to offer hugs to both Bellamy and Clarke.
"Are you sure you're going to be able to deal with that horse, Murphy?" Clarke couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.
Murphy snorted. "Considering what I've already survived on this fucking planet, I think I'll manage."
"Will you go back to Arkadia?" He hadn't meant to even ask the question, but Bellamy was surprised by how much he wanted to think that Murphy would still be around when he returned.
Which was maybe a little strange, considering that at one point each of them had tried to hang the other. He didn't know about Murphy, but Bellamy still had the occasional nightmare about choking, about not being able to breathe.
But then they'd also saved each others' lives. He recalled with a shudder how terrified he'd felt as he'd dangled off that damn cliff. And remembered Murphy's struggle with the chipped grounder in the tower elevator, and how he'd finally had to kill the guy to save Murphy.
Bellamy doubted many friendships had had such an inauspicious beginning, but he couldn't help feeling that's what Murphy was now. A friend.
Murphy's shrug was the only answer Bellamy got to his question. That, and a side-eye toward Emori, already mounted on her horse.
Bellamy nodded. "I understand," he said, aware that Murphy's life choices no longer affected just himself. "But I hope you'll both decide to come back. You know," he added, recalling Murphy's words on the day they'd left on this journey, "Arkadia might not be such a bad place to ride out the end of the world. If that's what it comes down to."
Murphy cocked a brow and gave Bellamy his patented sardonic smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, moving away to mount his horse.
"You Skaikru always have so much to say to each other," Roan declared, swinging up on his own horse. "You might have had this conversation yesterday and not delayed our departure with it."
Bellamy and Murphy just grinned as they raised their hands in farewell, Murphy painstakingly turning his horse toward the south-bound track, while Bellamy joined Clarke in the Rover, which had been parked pointing east.
"Are you sure you'll be okay to drive?" she asked for the third time, a worried frown on her face. Clarke had already volunteered to take the wheel, and Bellamy might have considered it if he hadn't been the one who'd tried to teach her how to drive while they were still back in Arkadia. It had not gone well.
He thought maybe he'd discovered one of the few things that Clarke Griffin was not good at.
"I'll be fine," he said, starting the motor and shifting into gear to follow Roan and his warriors down the east-bound track. "Be thankful he got me in the left arm, because I won't need that one as much."
Clarke harrumphed. "I'll never be thankful for anything about that day," she said, and Bellamy could hear the latent fury.
"How about the fact that I'm still alive?" he teased, his head turning towards her while the corners of his lips curled up in a smile.
But Clarke didn't return his smile, choosing instead to gaze out the passenger side window.
"Don't even joke about that," he thought he heard her mutter softly.
XXXXXXXXXX
It promised to be a long day of travel. They'd left early, despite Roan's complaints about prolonged farewells, and were planning to stop only twice for rest and food. Roan was determined to make it as far as the outskirts of Rhyne's village by evening.
The plan - and Bellamy thought it a good one - was to camp for the night a few miles outside the village, and to arrive at Rhyne's home in the morning. Despite his assurances to Clarke, the drive was bound to take a lot out of him, and he didn't want to approach the old woman with his questions about Octavia at the end of a long day of travel.
Clarke was strangely quiet as they drove along, saying little, staring intently out her window as though fascinated by the scenery. After a while, he began to wonder if she felt too confined in the Rover and asked if she preferred riding one of the horses for a while. Maybe, he suggested, she'd like to give Roan or one of the others a chance to ride in the vehicle.
She looked at him oddly, her brow wrinkled. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Never. Thought maybe you might be sick of being stuck in here with me." He shrugged. "That's all."
Clarke shook her head. "I'm sorry I'm such lousy company, Bellamy. I-I've kind of got something on my mind today. But I could never get sick of you," she assured him hurriedly.
"Good," Bellamy smiled. "Me, either. Why don't you take a nap or something. If you want."
So the journey was long, arduous, and often silent, and by the time Roan held up his hand for them to halt, Bellamy was more than ready to call it a day. After a quick meal, he and Clarke decided to once again bunk down in the Rover. It wasn't all that comfortable, but it would keep them dry from the drizzle that had begun to fall.
After everything that the long day had taken out of him, Bellamy should have drifted off immediately, but he found his mind was racing, despite his physical exhaustion.
Tomorrow, he would speak with Lincoln's grandmother. Find out if Octavia had made it there. Maybe, if she had, find out what had passed between them. But for the first time since he'd begun this journey, Bellamy could see no further than the next day. He had no plan in mind beyond questioning an old woman who might very well be of no help at all.
And besides, their allotted time away from Arkadia was nearly up. They were due back with the Rover very soon, and Bellamy knew that after that he would have to focus on more than just Octavia. He'd have other, far greater, problems to deal with.
For the first time, Bellamy forced himself to consider that he might not find his sister. That he might have to live whatever was left of the rest of his life never knowing exactly what had happened to Octavia. On that disturbing thought, he at last fell into a restless sleep.
XXXXXXXXXX
As grounder dwellings went, Bellamy supposed that Rhyne's was larger than most, since it contained not only the main room where they now stood, but also several smaller ones that led off from it. He wondered where the healer saw her "patients." Was there a special room set aside for that purpose, or did it simply not matter?
As she stood beside him, he sensed Clarke's excitement at meeting this revered Azgeda healer. For as silent as she'd been the day before, she'd woken this morning chattering about all the things she could potentially learn from Rhyne.
"The Trikru have developed wonderful natural remedies, Bellamy. But I'm sure an Azgeda healer would have different things she could teach me. New things. And, let's face it. This is probably going to be my one and only chance to interact with an Azgeda healer. Especially one as renowned as Rhyne."
Bellamy was happy for her. She'd come on this journey only to help him, so he was glad that she was at last going to get something positive from it.
Rhyne had been shocked - and maybe even a little skeptical - when she'd heard that King Roan had arrived in the village for the express purpose of speaking with her. But the village heda had assured her that it was, indeed, the king. It was only when Roan, Bellamy, and Clarke finally entered the woman's house that Rhyne smiled in understanding.
There were formalities to be taken care of when the King of Azgeda deigned to visit your home. But once those had been completed, Rhyne turned immediately to Bellamy.
"You are her brother. You look very alike, you know."
He didn't know, hadn't ever really thought about it. They'd had different fathers, so he never considered they had anything like a family resemblance. But at that moment, all he really cared about was that he now knew that Octavia had been there. And that one of the things she'd talked about was him.
"I'll leave you for now," Roan said.
When they'd arrived in the village, Bellamy had thought that Roan would return to the capital as soon as they'd contacted Rhyne, but it seemed that instead he intended to see them all the way out of Azgeda territory. And considering what had happened to them only a few days before, Bellamy couldn't dredge up a single objection to that.
But for the moment Roan had left them, retreating outside to give them some privacy. Clarke offered to leave, too, but her offer was tentative.
"Unless you want me to stay," she added, somewhat diffidently.
"I do," Bellamy said quickly. "Please don't go."
Clarke nodded, pleased, and Rhyne observed them closely as though trying to decipher their exact relationship. Good luck with that, Bellamy wanted to say. If you figure it out, you can let me know.
The old woman nodded finally, apparently satisfied with whatever conclusions she had drawn, and invited them to sit. Refreshment was offered, and while Bellamy's first instinct was to decline, a raised eyebrow from Clarke had him reconsidering.
"Thank you," he said, nodding.
She served them both what looked like wine, but when he took a sip he couldn't help wincing a bit at the sour taste.
Rhyne laughed. "Your sister didn't like it, either. And she was less polite about it than you are."
Bellamy smiled and nodded. "No, Octavia doesn't hide her feelings well. About big things or small ones."
"Yes," she agreed. "Octavia does not bother to wear a mask to disguise her opinions."
They were silent, then, Clarke quietly sipping her Azgedan wine, while Bellamy simply held onto the cup.
He sighed finally, seeing no way to avoid the subject. "She told you, I suppose."
"About Lincoln? Yes, she did," Rhyne said, nodding sadly. "I had heard something about his death before, but not the exact...circumstances. Octavia," the old woman faltered slightly, "described it to me. How it happened. The...the gun."
Bellamy put down the cup as gently as he could before fisting his hands in his lap. What was he to say to that?
"You were not there? Either of you?" Rhyne asked, shifting her glance between the two of them.
"No," Clarke answered softly. "Lincoln was...I considered him a great friend. If I had been there...if either of us had been there..." Clarke's voice trailed off as she looked over at Bellamy.
"We let Lincoln down," he sighed. "It shouldn't have happened, but we weren't - either of us - there to stop it." He reached across and picked up Rhyne's hand. "I'm so sorry," he said, wondering if he could ever convey to Lincoln's grandmother the depth of his sorrow over her grandson's death.
Clarke reached over and covered their linked hands with her own, and he could see the wetness on her lashes.
"Lincoln was a wonderful person," she said. "He died a hero."
Rhyne looked up in surprise. "A hero? Octavia said nothing about that."
Clarke frowned. "But surely..." She began again. "She must have explained to you that he sacrificed himself for the other Trikru that the chancellor had imprisoned."
"The man, Pike," Rhyne said, nodding. "Yes, Octavia told me about him. But nothing about other Trikru."
Bellamy picked up the story. "Lincoln had nearly escaped, but then he turned himself in to save the others. And they're all still alive because of that. Returned to their homes."
Rhyne sighed. "Thank you for telling me, but I am not surprised to hear it. It sounds exactly like what Lincoln would do."
She put down her own cup carefully, as her eyes took on a faraway look.
"Did Lincoln ever speak to you about his family?" she asked. "His nomon or his nontu?"
Clarke shook her head, while Bellamy nodded, "A little."
Rhyne gave a small laugh, remembering. "My daughter was always a gentle girl, most unlike the other girls in the village. She had no interest in being a warrior, and I was training her to be a healer, like me."
She nodded at Clarke then, as if to say You understand, and Bellamy knew at once that Octavia had also spoken to her about Clarke. Maybe even about Abby.
"So one day," she resumed her tale, "a handsome young Trikru warrior arrived with the Commander on their way to our capital. It was so long ago I can't even remember which Commander, but it was during a time of peace between the clans. And my girl's head was turned. She fell in love. When the Trikru came back through on the way home, she left with him."
Rhyne shook her head.
"As is so often the case, each did not really understand what the other was about. Lincoln's father thought he was getting a fierce Azgeda warrior, not my gentle healer daughter, and she was just happy being in love."
Her sigh was full of sadness.
"Things may have turned out differently, but my sweet girl died when Lincoln was born."
Rhyne paused, looked away and he could see her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away.
"Even though my daughter was dead, the war between his nomon and his nontu forever raged on in Lincoln's heart."
When she saw Bellamy nod, she said, "He told you of this? Then you must have been a very good friend, Bellamy Blake."
Her brow wrinkled. "So why then does your sister blame you for my grandson's death?"
"I...made some bad choices. I believed the man Pike was doing the right thing long before he made Lincoln a prisoner."
"But he was not?"
"He thought he was, but he was mistaken. And even so, I never..." Bellamy's eyes closed against the unwelcome memory. "I never thought he'd go that far."
"But when he did? After he'd killed Lincoln? You did not think you should avenge my grandson yourself?" She asked the question without inflection, as though her interest in the matter was completely impersonal.
Bellamy sighed. There was no doubt she'd hit him where it hurt.
"I finally learned enough about myself to understand that I couldn't kill just for the sake of vengeance. I'd already tried to be that person, but it just didn't...fit. And I couldn't make it fit, not even for Lincoln," he added.
When Rhyne made no response, Bellamy continued.
"And as wrong as I thought Pike was, our people had still chosen him to be chancellor. I thought he should be dealt with by a new chancellor. Or by his enemies. In fact, I finally had to turn Pike over to the Trikru to save the rest of our people."
He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"And then later, when we had to fight against the machine, Pike and I fought side by side. And he never complained that I'd betrayed him. He just...had my back. He even saved Octavia there at the end."
Rhyne was startled out of her silence.
"This man, this...chancellor," she stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar word, "he saved Octavia's life?"
Bellamy nodded. "Yes," he said. "We were in the middle of a battle, and I could see she was in trouble, but I couldn't help her." He remembered his horror when he'd thought he was about to watch his sister die before his eyes. "Pike jumped in when I couldn't."
"So," Rhyne nodded, "the man saved her and she repaid this act of bravery and kindness by killing him."
"Yes," Bellamy said, not bothering to dress it up in pretty colors. "That's exactly what she did."
"Ah," Rhyne said, "I think I begin to understand."
"Understand?"
"Octavia insisted she had not only the right but the obligation to kill Pike, and she would not be swayed. But I see now why she was clinging to her vengeful act as being right and necessary. Because if it was not, then she has killed a man who saved her life, and that would be more than just a mistake, or an act of passion. It would be dishonorable."
"And did you try to sway her, Rhyne?" Clarke asked. Bellamy was momentarily startled. He'd almost forgotten she was there. "Did you try to change her thinking?"
"I did," she said, nodding. "I told her that in the war within his heart between healer and warrior, I believed Lincoln would, whenever possible, come down on the side of mercy."
She sighed then. "And then I told her that I, too, would have left the man Pike to his fate. Whatever that might have been."
There was silence all around as Bellamy pondered Rhyne's words.
He couldn't help but wonder about Octavia's state of mind when she'd left Rhyne. She'd spoken to three people now, all of whom had been close to Lincoln. Had, in fact, known the man far longer than had Octavia herself. And all three had told her that Lincoln would never have agreed with her choice to plunge that sword into Pike.
Bellamy wondered where she might go next in her quest for validation. For approbation. He was about to ask Rhyne if she knew where Octavia had been headed when the old woman broke her silence on a sigh.
"I could see," she said, "that Octavia loved my grandson very much, and I have no doubt that Lincoln loved her in return. But I did begin to wonder if she really knew him at all. If she truly understood the man she'd fallen in love with. I've seen it before, you see, and it can be very painful."
"Seen it?" Clarke's question was immediate.
"The gap between who we think we love and the person they really are."
Rhyne smiled at them.
"But I can see that that will never be a problem for the two of you," she said brightly.
The statement just hung out there until the silence seemed to fill up the room, and Clarke and Bellamy looked everywhere but at each other.
"Do you know where Octavia was going next?" he finally managed to ask, clearing his throat and finding his voice at last.
"I'm sorry," the old woman shook her head. "I don't think she knew herself. Although I did tell her I thought she should make peace with you, Bellamy. And now that we've met, I hope even more that she follows that advice."
Rhyne shrugged. "So perhaps she's headed back to wherever she thinks you are."
Bellamy huffed a laugh. Was the answer to be one filled with irony? Had they chased after Octavia only to find that she'd returned to Arkadia?
"Didn't you have some questions for Rhyne, Clarke?" he asked, chancing a glance at her.
Clarke nodded and expressed her desire to talk medicine with the Azgeda healer. Bellamy stood, preparing to thank the old woman, thinking he'd leave them to it. But Rhyne rose, too, stopping him with a hand on his arm.
"You are a good brother, Bellamy Blake," she said earnestly, "and a good man. And I know you must have been a good friend to my grandson. Never doubt that."
Bellamy felt his eyes well up and he knew he'd have to get out of there quickly.
"Thank you for saying that, Rhyne. And thank you for your help."
She gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure if I was any help at all, but I am glad you came " she said, her smile soft, almost...affectionate.
Me, too, he thought, squeezing her hand. You'll never know how much.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bellamy's arm had begun to ache as he sat in Rhyne's house, but he'd done his best to ignore the pain. Perhaps it was stupid - there were, after all, two healers right there - but Bellamy preferred not to dull his senses with pain meds. Even the natural kind.
He'd been sitting for such a long time that he thought it might do him some good to take short walk while Clarke gleaned as much Azgedan medical lore as she could handle in a short time. But he'd forgotten that he might also have had a concussion, and that his torso was covered with bruises. Or that healing not only took time but also sapped the energy from his body.
He returned from his walk quickly, short of breath, hoping Clarke was still occupied with Rhyne. Because she'd kill him herself if she thought he was overtaxing his stressed-out body.
What he didn't expect was to be given a hard time by the king of Azgeda.
"Where have you been, Skaikru?" Roan asked testily, when Bellamy finally made it back to the spot where the Rover was parked and the others were camped.
"I went for a walk, your majesty," he answered tartly. "Not that it's any of your business."
"I'm making it my business, since I prefer that you not get killed while you're still on my lands. And that would be a lot easier to make sure of if I knew where you were."
Bellamy understood that Roan was just trying to keep him safe, but he was tired, and sore, and frustrated as hell because they still hadn't found Octavia. And because he had no idea where to look next.
"Yeah? Well, if you want to keep an eye on me, you're going to have to do it the Rover, because that's where I'm headed."
He hadn't really expected the man to follow him, so when he opened the driver's side door and saw Roan opening the passenger door and sliding onto the seat, Bellamy was startled.
Roan studied the Rover's interior with curious eyes.
"Your people have a lot of machines. A lot of...what's the word you use? Tech...?"
"Technology," Bellamy nodded. "Yes, we do. Technology is what kept us alive up in space for almost a century."
He looked pointedly at Roan.
"But while we've made some advancements, a lot of what we have had already been developed by our ancestors while they were still on the ground." He paused. "Those would be your ancestors, too."
"Yes, I understand that's true," Roan said, acknowledging their shared history. "But you are the ones who still have this knowledge. Who know how it all works. Who might be able to use it to save us all."
Bellamy nodded, sure that Roan had something else on his mind, but he was quiet for so long that Bellamy thought perhaps their unexpectedly friendly conversation was at an end.
But when the Azgedan spoke again, it wasn't at all what he expected.
"Tell me about the woman," he said, and it was more a command than a question.
But Bellamy was perplexed. The woman?
"Do you mean Clarke?"
Roan gave a short bark of laughter. "I suppose it's not so strange that when I say 'the woman', you think first of your own woman."
Bellamy protested immediately. "Clarke is not my woman."
"Yes, yes. So you say. And she would probably say the same." Roan shrugged lightly. "But that doesn't make it any less true. No, no," he added, seeing Bellamy open his mouth again, "we won't argue the point. But I don't mean Clarke. I know Clarke well enough."
Bellamy narrowed his eyes at Roan, as his mind leaped to places he'd really rather it hadn't. "What does that mean?" The question just tumbled out.
Roan's amusement grew, and his lips spread into a grin that Bellamy thought must surely resemble a shark's.
"Not what you're thinking, Skaikru. Only that I spent enough time with Clarke while we were in Polis. I believe I know her as well as I need to."
Bellamy felt a surge of relief, followed by one of embarrassment. He knew it was none of his business who Clarke might have chosen to...favor.
Roan tried again.
"We were speaking," he said, "of your technology."
And finally understanding dawned. "You mean Raven. You're asking about Raven."
Bellamy wondered why he'd been so slow, considering the sparks he'd seen flying between their resident genius and the Azgedan king at that meeting in Arkadia. He supposed that his only excuse was that he'd had other things on his mind.
Bellamy's lips curled in amusement. He could hardly wait to tease Raven about attracting the attentions of a king.
"What do you want to know?"
Roan shrugged. "She is clearly...clever."
"Clever doesn't even come close. Raven is a fucking genius. We'd all be dead a dozen times over if it weren't for her."
When Roan nodded, saying, "I can easily believe that," Bellamy wasn't sure if the remark was meant as an acknowledgement of Raven's abilities or a comment on the general ineptitude of the Sky People.
"But I wondered about...her leg. Has it always been so? Or was there some injury?"
Bellamy saw no point in keeping Roan in the dark about Raven's leg.
"She was shot," he said. "Abby Griffin removed the bullet, but there was still extensive nerve damage, and she had no way of repairing it."
He looked at Roan closely, wondering how he would react to the next piece of information.
"There was better equipment in Mt. Weather and Abby thought she could use it to fix up Raven's leg." He paused. "But then you blew up the mountain."
Bellamy could see the protest forming on Roan's lips. He never voiced it, but his brows drew together in a deep frown.
"Yes," he agreed, "we Azgeda blew up the mountain. We had our reasons, but perhaps...it was not our finest hour."
You think? Betraying your own coalition? Destroying valuable resources? Killing innocent non-combatants?
Bellamy thought it all, but there would have been little point in telling Roan things he more than likely already knew.
"So she will have this injury forever?" Roan asked, shifting back to Raven.
"Yeah, and it really sucks. Raven is a great person."
"So...you know her well."
Bellamy nodded. One thing he was not going into was his personal history with Raven.
"And is there a man in her life? Or...a woman?" Perhaps he intended the question to sound casual, but Bellamy knew that casual wasn't Roan's style.
He shrugged. "I think that's something you need to ask her yourself."
Roan nodded. "I agree," he said, opening the Rover door and slipping back outside.
Bellamy leaned back in the seat, surprised by the abruptness of Roan's departure. And astonished that the man had initiated such a personal conversation. He couldn't wait to hear what Clarke would think when he repeated it to her.
The retelling would, of course, be carefully edited.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bellamy didn't know how long he'd slept on the cramped front seat of the Rover, but it seemed like only minutes later that Clarke was shaking him awake.
"Hey," he said groggily, smiling at her with genuine pleasure, happy, as always, to see her. "How did you get on with Rhyne? Have you learned all kinds of Azgeda miracle cures?"
"We got along great," Clarke said, returning his smile. "She's a pretty remarkable person."
Bellamy nodded. "I don't doubt that Lincoln comes from a long line of remarkable people."
"But we didn't just talk about medicine and healing, Bellamy. I also learned a lot about Azgeda customs. And the thing is..."
Clarke paused for a moment, and he watched as she pressed her lips together, a sure sign she had mulled something over and come to a decision.
"The thing is, Bellamy...well, I think I might know where Octavia's gone."
