Earth: Day 65

Today was a good day.

There weren't many days lately that she could say the same for, so it felt like a victory.

Nothing particularly extraordinary had occurred, but nonetheless, it had felt good.

She had started to draw again.

The first few doodles were unintentional- she had been trying to read (an old sci-fi novel about an astronaut stranded in space), and she had still had her pen in hand from her daily rationing checklist.

She had made tallies in the margins of the novel, thinking not only of the protagonist, but also of herself.

Sets of five. Fifty, fifty-five, sixty. Sixty-one, sixty-two.

She made a mark for every day she had been awake and alone on Earth. Two-months. It's been two months. She let out a nervous laugh into the silence of the lighthouse, it didn't seem possible that it had already been that long. Even when she had left Arkadia after Mount Weather, she had never been truly alone for this long. The only time she had been this alone was her year in solitary, and even then, there had been the occasional guard.

As she thought to herself, she had started to sketch the shadowy wasteland of what was once the island forest along the bottom margin of the page. The pen bled a little in some places, but the overall effect was chillingly realistic.

Clarke thumbed back through the parts she had already read, and continued to draw, but this time, she began to draw her nightmares, sometimes incorporating the words and letters into the shape of the sketch.

Her dreams sprang up from the page and darted back to hide between the words of the story, and her visions of death and love swirled together to create an anthology of emotion.

It was well-past midnight when she finally capped the pen (it was running out of ink, anyway), and laid the book down with its pages open to dry.

The outpouring of emotion had felt so cathartic, she knew she would continue tomorrow. She had a plan- she would read every book in this bunker, and once she finished each one, she would draw on every page, maybe illustrating the book, maybe illustrating her own life.

If the food ran out in a few months and there was nothing left to sustain her out there, she wanted some memory, some indication that she was here, that her friends had been here.

Clarke laid on her side beneath the white sheet and curled into herself. She was still lonely, the world was still dead and desolate, and she was still subsisting in a bunker than would only last her a few more months, but it was a good day.

She closed her eyes, and sleep came easy.

The Go-Sci Ring: Day 65

Raven was standing at her desk at the (former) Earth Monitoring Station, staring at a jumble of parts in front of her when Monty walked into the room.

"Hey Raven." He dipped his head in a greeting, and she paused to turn toward the door.

"Good, did you bring him?" She asked, a forced nonchalance in her tone.

Monty didn't reply, but the door slid open again, and John Murphy walked into the room.

"Why am I here, again?" John asked dryly. It wasn't a real question; he knew why. He was just nervous. And though he would never admit it, a bit uncomfortable. He was never much good with mechanics or engineering, never much good at anything really. He didn't want the pressure to act as Monty's stand-in.

Raven rolled her eyes, and a pang of regret flashed across Monty's face.

"You're here, Murphy, because we saved your sorry ass by bringing you to space on my rocket ship." Raven retorted just as dryly. "And because now, we need an extra set of hands so I can finally get this goddamn comms system online." An edge of anger crept into her voice, this would be much easier if they had been Murphy's hands instead of Monty's.

She regretted the thought as quickly as it came. It's not Murphy's fault that Monty's hands got damaged, she reminded herself, and it's not Monty's fault, either. She tried to even the tone of her voice.

"I'll be doing most of the work, there are just some things I'm going to need your help with. If we do this right, we'll be able to talk to the bunker."

Why we'd want to do that is beyond me, John thought to himself bitterly, but if he was honest with himself, he knew he didn't want to spend six years without anyone else to break up the monotony of the Ring.

Seeing the hurt on Monty's face, however, was the real reason he knew he had to help. It was killing Monty to feel useless, and John knew how much that feeling sucked.

Raven walked him through some beginner tasks to get Murphy familiar with the concept of the radios she wanted to make. Essentially, she wanted to work through four tasks- personal radios, an intercom system, a direct radio to Earth that would let them contact the bunker for a few hours every day, and launching several satellites that would hopefully give them an open communication line 24/7.

Monty still had enough dexterity that he could perform most tasks, but Raven wanted Murphy to learn as much as they could teach. With only seven of them up here, redundancy was vital. Was she being paranoid? Probably. Did they have anything else to do, anyway? Nope.

So, redundancy it was.

After a few hours, however, John was getting progressively frustrated. Raven was not the most patient of teachers, and while he often did well when Monty or Raven walked him through an exercise, the minute he had to assemble parts together on his own, he felt lost.

All three of them took a short break for lunch, and as they ate their algae (pureed into a pudding-like consistency with a sweetened topping that John was particularly proud of), Monty recounted the first time he sat in on an engineering class after he was recruited from Farm Station.

"I didn't have a clue what I was doing. See, I was so used to just having a "feel" for what was right with plants, and I hadn't developed that sense with technology yet. I was a half-way decent hacker, though, so that helped." A roguish smile lit up his eyes as he recalled the skills necessary to hide their elicit Grow Room from prying eyes aboard the Ark.

"The thing is, it just takes time to get a feel for it. It took time for you to become a good cook, right?"

Murphy stared down at his pudding. Monty's praise left a lingering feeling of warmth at the base of his throat, and he nodded.

"My father always used to cook, my mother would help, sometimes. He said it was about making something that was more than it appeared. He liked to surprise people."

The revelation was more than Monty expected. Murphy wasn't the sharing type, especially about his family.

He cleared his throat, hiding his surprise. "Exactly. That's what we're trying to do here with this comms system. An elegant function in a simple format. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but the inside is much more complicated."

Monty took over from Raven and continued the lessons for the rest of the day, and John felt strange. He wasn't sure what to think about this new arrangement; even before he had been locked up, he didn't have many friends. Up until now, he'd really only ever had Emori on his side. But by the end of the day, Murphy thought to himself that he might like the idea of having Monty Green as a friend.

The Bunker: Day 65

Nathan Miller poked his head into the Commander's office and gave a low whistle.

Octavia looked up sharply, recognizing Miller's pitch, and waited for him to enter the room.

Miller still held himself with an easy confidence, and like Bellamy and Clarke before her, she trusted his judgement. She had assigned him to her personal guard since the first week in the bunker, and while the loss of his father had hit him hard, he was beginning to smile again.

It made Octavia glad to see him- there weren't many people on her side these days.

His weapon was holstered, his hands were empty, and he was alone, but something about his demeanor still set Octavia on edge- something was wrong.

"Nate, what's wrong?" She inquired, returning to an informality they had adopted with one another in the bunker. In Bellamy's absence, Miller was one of the few young people that still felt comfortable calling her "Octavia" instead of "Commander."

Miller fidgeted with his hands for a moment before answering, "There are some whispers going around, Octavia. Some of the other clans didn't like the way you handled the fight. Kane's been talking to Gaia about it, and they both want an audience."

Gaia? Octavia thought. What has Kane been doing talking to Indra's daughter? There was a beat before Octavia nodded her head.

"Alright, go get them. Funny of Kane to be formal all of a sudden. Normally he'd just barge in here and continue his five-day lecture." Octavia didn't try to keep the disdain from her voice. Even though she respected Kane, his guidance sometimes felt oppressive, especially since the fight. All he had time for anymore was to berate her for her foolishness before he returned to the Medical Clinic.

Miller has been spending a good bit of time there, too, Octavia thought to herself. I'm willing to bet that's where Kane found him and asked for an audience. She smiled slightly as Miller left to find Kane and Gaia. Maybe I should switch some of Nate's schedule over to Medical, I don't think Jackson would complain any.

Though she knew the two were trying to be discreet, she had noticed their mutual interest, and she made sure to keep note of where her guards spent their time off-duty. She was sorry things hadn't worked out for Nate and Bryan, but Nate seemed happier now, and she was glad, sometimes things just weren't meant to be.

A sharp ache broke open in her chest at the thought. Lincoln.

She drew a quick breath and mentally slammed the thought down. This war isn't done. My fight isn't over. I can't mourn now, I don't have time for grief. In her mind, she had reframed their survival in the bunker as a continuation of their war for life and freedom, and while she admitted to herself that it was probably unhealthy, she tried not to let herself think about him.

It just hurt too much, still. He had been part of her. And now he was gone.

Composing herself, she set her jaw in time for Kane and Gaia to walk into the room.

Gaia was obviously uneasy. So this was Kane's idea, Octavia noted, though Kane seemed slightly on edge as well.

"There are clans who want what you have, Heda." Gaia began, wasting no time in pleasantries. Her own mixed emotions about the Commander made this meeting all the more unsettling for her. "They want your title, your rank, and your respect. They think you've weakened the Council by killing the men yourself."

Octavia raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point. She knew all of this already. Everyone had already told her as much.

"Nonetheless, I think the fear you've inspired can work in your favor." Gaia paused, unsure how to continue. "Is it true you care for Nyc now?"

Nodding, Octavia replied, "I promised Akro I would make him my second if he is worthy, and I believe that he will be. He is strong, intelligence, and loyal." Octavia smiled, "He has more heart than most."

Gaia analyzed Octavia's reaction- though it would seem logical that the boy would hate Octavia for making him an orphan, Octavia didn't seem to consider this a major concern. If Nyc really did train as Octavia's second, it could be the solution they needed to repair relations within the clans.

Gaia told Octavia as much, and when she was finished, she spoke again:

"I know I'm not a warrior or a leader like you, Octavia, and now, I'm not even a flame-keeper. But I know the politics of my people. The other clans will always vie to put their people first, but if you ever need advice, I'm here for you."

Octavia was touched, but she didn't know what to say. To her, Gaia was a sister, both in kru and because she considered herself kin to Indra, making Gaia an extension of that family. But Gaia had always seemed aloof, and disinterested in the messy intricacies of leadership and war. Her offer to help was exactly what Octavia needed to keep her people and the Council afloat, and she felt such an intense surge of gratitude, she wasn't sure what to do.

So, Octavia stood and strode around the table to wrap her arms around Gaia's slender frame.

"Thank you, my sister," Octavia whispered, emotion thick in her voice. The Council would survive if she had help.

Kane sat at the table, stunned and more than a little proud.