A/N: I must start by thanking my beta, Marina Black1, for putting up with about 8 different iterations of this chapter! LOVE YOU! And if you haven't yet, please go check out her Arrow piece, Stars Fall Silent. Seriously, do it.
A/N2: Did you know some of you have reviewed almost every chapter? It's true! THAT FLOORS ME. Thank you all so much! I've poured my heart into this story - and quite literally my tears, and also that one time a little tiny bit of blood (don't ask) - so it is just the BEST feeling to think there are others out there who also care! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!
A/N3: Now that I know how to make them, I'm going video crazy! There's a new one, definitely related to this portion of the story - link at the thundershirts tumblr page I share with my beta! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
[CONTENT WARNING: language]
Snow began falling over the region just before dawn of their second day. Monty was taking his turn at watch, and he briefly considered waking the women so they could experience the magic of the world being transformed. Their first snowfall had been the night they escaped Mount Weather, and no one had been in the frame of mind to enjoy it. He decided to let them sleep, though. They would see it later, and right now rest was too important.
Monty sighed heavily as he watched the flakes coasting down. He missed Jasper. Jasper would love this: the way the world quieted; the flashes of color from songbirds previously hidden and now so bright against the whiteness; the snow itself, cold and clean and soft. Monty scooped up a handful and packed it together, forming a small ball which he tossed lightly in his fingers as he crossed the tiny clearing to the tent holding Raven and Clarke. He pushed the flap aside just enough to catch sight of Raven. She was so beautiful and peaceful and fragile like this. When she awoke, he would tell her. Everything. He would tell her about the torture - and worse, his weakness. About how quickly he had caved, especially when those monsters began electrocuting him. He shuddered to consider what she would think of him when she realized he had betrayed them all, had told his torturers about the Ark and the drop-ship and given names and descriptions, and all of it was just out of a selfish need to make his own pain stop, however briefly.
Raven stirred and moaned. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled to see Monty. He smiled back sadly, the kind of smile that never reached the eyes.
"Good morning," he began in a soft voice. "So, guess what? It's snowing."
"Really?" Raven scrambled outside, eager to see. She found herself dropped into the middle of one of the videos from their classes on the Ark, that one about Earth's seasons. She held out her arms and giggled as tiny crystals landed on her clothes and skin.
"It's like... magic," she confessed as she turned back to Monty.
"I know." He seemed distracted. "Raven… I need to talk to you."
"Jasper, calm down!" Harper could not help a quick smile, even as she gripped his shoulders to steady him. "Yes, the snow will cover their footprints, but first of all, have they veered from this route for the past few hours?"
"No," Jasper tried to blink away his initial panic, and focus on Harper's words. Bellamy had been pushing them so hard, allowing only a brief rest. He was determined to reach Clarke today, especially after yesterday's delay from the acid fog.
"And secondly, tracking isn't just about footprints, Jasper. There's also -"
"Cutting sign," Bellamy interjected softly, recalling the way Finn always looked for other clues like broken twigs and fibers from snagged clothing. Harper nodded.
"Yes, that's right. So we just keep going. Nothing's changed, except the weather. Okay?" She stretched up to kiss Jasper on the cheek, then returned to her work. She tried not to see the pain on Bellamy's features at the quick moment of intimacy. Harper would find Clarke for Bellamy. He was a broken man without her.
The snow actually did make it a bit harder, but Harper kept this information to herself. Just as she had not mentioned that someone was with Monty and Clarke. Or that Bellamy's relentlessness had worked, and they were finally catching up.
Michael and Anya seemed to be taking longer than usual to depart this morning. Ordinarily Miller would have been in their faces, demanding a reason for this kind of delay. Today, he just worked silently at the menial tasks around their small camp, putting out the fire and gathering items back into packs. Finn was impressed by his restraint, especially since this was their last day of travel, and they hoped to make it to the ocean before dark.
After their scare with the acid fog, Michael and Anya were determined to keep Lydia closer than ever. Lydia seemed less certain of the need for extra caution, although she stayed by her father's side obediently. She was quieter than normal, her eyes landing frequently on Miller.
Finn watched her, curious now about what it must have been like trapped in such a small space with Miller for that long. He personally would have gone mad. Miller was not a bad person, but everything about him was an echo of Bellamy and that barbaric tendency to fight first, ask questions later. Lydia seemed to have a very different reaction than Finn, though, if those sympathetic stares were any indication. Finn shook his head and turned back to his own bag.
Anya walked over to Miller. Her eyes were still red from the tears she had wept, first over the loss of Lydia, then over her recovery. Miller tried not to let the emotion on the Grounder's face soften his feelings toward her. It was hard; his time trapped under the tree with Lydia yesterday had left him raw, and he was having difficulty piecing himself back together.
"You saved Lydia." Anya's declaration caught him off guard.
"I wasn't just going to let her die," he answered honestly.
"You could have. You chose not to. That was… unexpected."
Miller looked down at the ground and wondered how the hell he was supposed to respond to something like that, coming from someone like her.
Jasper broke past Harper at the clearing's edge, calling Monty's name eagerly as he ran forward. The snow-covered field glittered blindingly but Jasper barely noticed. He grabbed his best friend by the arm and pulled him into an exuberant hug. For his part, Monty tried to focus on the surprise and happiness of this moment, and shake off the turmoil and pain of his recent conversation with Raven.
"What are you doing here?" Monty finally managed.
"Oh, well. You know. Someone had to come along to protect the big guy," Jasper answered with a grin as Bellamy jogged past them, a single-minded look on his face. Harper, the only one not feeling a need to rush now that she had fulfilled her duty, approached and greeted Monty warmly, and the three friends very studiously looked away from the tent housing Clarke.
Bellamy felt his heart thudding with each step, felt the burning anticipation as a bright sun within him. He pushed through the tent door, and Clarke filled his world so completely he forgot to breathe.
She was bent forward, rolling up her blanket. Her hair fell loosely around her face and Bellamy's thoughts, his body, his soul… settled. He came back to an equilibrium he had lost the moment Clarke told him she was leaving him. He ached to touch her, but hated to disturb her. In this stolen moment, she was as pure and perfect as the snow outside.
There was a brief period of limbo in which Clarke became aware of his presence but the import of it had not yet fully registered. She half-smiled and at that Bellamy broke down. He reached out, tenderly tracing the soft line of her jaw. Clarke's hand found his cheek and she dragged him close, her mouth calling for him hungrily. He gathered her into his arms as she kissed him, painfully aware now of just how wrong he had been to ever let her go. Clarke's hands raked through Bellamy's hair and she smiled at the strength of his arms, the heat of his lips.
And then reality came crashing down on them.
"Bellamy, wait! What the hell?" She pushed against his shoulder, staring at him in sudden confusion and anger. He tried to deflect it with a charming smile.
"Come on, Princess, you didn't really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?" Bellamy teased. She frowned.
"I wasn't getting rid of you, I was trusting you!" His face fell at her harsh tone, and Clarke found herself wavering. Just a little.
"They need you," she tried instead.
"And I need you, Clarke." His eyes burned into hers, silencing her temporarily. His voice was pained and pleading. "I couldn't do it. Please don't ask me to leave you, ever again. I -" he cut himself off. Some things were easier to say than others. Instead he pulled her close, burying his head against her shoulder, breathing her in. When had she become his strength? He could not remember.
"So new plan. We do this, we go get your mother, and we go home," he offered.
"Bellamy," Clarke sighed. She wanted to stay angry but she also knew that her universe stabilized the minute he touched her. She curled into his body and tangled her fingers in the collar of his shirt, not wanting to let go again. That was the deal; and it had been her demand, after all.
"I cannot believe you just left everyone," she whispered into his chest, not willing to give up the fight quite so easily.
"Miller and Finn will get there soon. Luna and Octavia can keep everyone in line until then."
"Octavia?" Clarke smiled despite herself. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting Octavia was no longer quite the defenseless little girl he remembered from life on the Ark.
Raven had held herself together until Monty finished talking about Mount Weather. Then she had run away. Clarke's system of keeping people at bay, and finding personal space to cope with her pain, suddenly seemed like a brilliant plan. Raven needed that kind of space to process everything Monty had just shared. She ran until breathing hurt and her side cramped, and walked after that, until even walking was too much. She sank down onto the snowy ground and shed hot tears for Monty, and for herself. He had no idea the terrible things she had done to Lincoln, obviously; otherwise, he would not be with her. She was as much a monster as his captors. He had begged forgiveness for weakness, for trying to make his pain stop; and Raven had run as far as possible from her guilt. She cried, hoping that might relieve some of the burden but even after the tears ebbed the pain remained. How could she ever face him again?
"Raven?"
She must have been gone longer than she realized, if Monty had come looking for her. He stopped a few feet behind her.
"I don't… I'm not trying to be a jackass or anything, but I really need to know if you can forgive me."
Raven refused to look back, trusting herself only to nod.
"There's nothing to forgive, Monty. You survived, okay? You shouldn't have had any of it happen to you. It's all… I did it -" She dissolved into fresh tears.
"Hey. I told you, stop talking like that," Monty said. He frowned. "Raven, listen... If you're just in this out of some sense of guilt, will you tell me? Because I… You're amazing, but I don't want pity… And if that's all this is, I'd like to know. Before I fall any harder for you than I already have."
Raven froze, still unable to face him. It seemed impossible, but he had found the one way to make her feel worse.
"You've got it backwards," she started. "I didn't expect to find anyone as great as you, Monty. And I just… it hurts to know I've messed it up before it began, that this won't work… because of all the mistakes I've made." The snow muffled his steps but she felt him draw closer, and when his fingers found her chin, Raven let him turn her face toward his before continuing.
"I did it. To Lincoln. I helped Clarke and Bellamy torture him." She closed her eyes against the memory, and against Monty's sudden, sharp intake of breath. "It seemed right at the time, Monty. Finn had been stabbed. We had to save him. But I didn't know it would cost me… so much…" She let the tears flow freely over her cheeks as Monty sat back on his haunches, trying to understand what she was telling him.
"Who made you do it?" he whispered. "Was it… Bellamy?"
"Oh god, no! Nobody! Just Finn. He was dying, and he may be a cheating jackass, but he's also family." She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Monty looked at her thoughtfully.
"If it had been Jasper who was stabbed…" Monty stopped and tried to consider what he would have done. Really done, back when everything seemed new and dangerous and surreal. Not what he would do now, now that reality had taken a firmer grasp of everyone, and they had all aged a decade in the space of a month.
Sinclair was staring across the small campfire at Big Ray with a mixture of fascination and fear when Wick approached.
"Hey Sinclair, that girl Clarke is on the radio," the apprentice announced. Sinclair turned a warning stare on him.
"… Sir," Wick added with a languid grin and a mock salute. Sinclair had no energy to fight back against the insolence; he just nodded and followed. Any excuse to get away from the giant scruffy nomad, even for just a few minutes.
"Pretty Clarke is tougher than fuckin' nails, you know," Big Ray announced when Sinclair returned to his place by the fire.
"Yes, thank you Big Ray," Sinclair gritted out. He hated everything about that man. He hated the sheer size, the furs, the lack of decorum, the rough-and-tumble way he went about everything. Sinclair found himself wishing for Chancellor Jaha or Councilor Kane or Dr. Griffin to materialize and take over leadership of this entire operation. Instead, it was up to Sinclair. And he knew without doubt that he was no leader. He could barely keep Wick in check.
"When will she fuckin' get here?" Big Ray continued, oblivious to the effect he was having on the space man.
"I'm sorry," Sinclair replied, distracted, "I just…. I really need to know: do you have to talk like that?"
"Like what?" Big Ray tilted his head and stared at Sinclair blankly.
"Just… never mind. Clarke and her people will be here soon actually. They're not that far from us."
"Wait, the whole damn lot of them are coming? That's fuckin' great! Finally it's a fuckin' party!" Big Ray stood quickly, and Sinclair flinched at the size of him. He flinched again when Big Ray bellowed out his announcement. "Hey Regular Jack! Little Ray! Fuckin' Pretty Clarke's bringin' the damn party back!"
"No, that's not what I…" But Big Ray was gone, punching and swearing and laughing with his men. Sinclair closed his eyes in search of some extra fortitude.
"Well I for one think they're fuckin' hilarious," Wick teased. Sinclair's disdain was obviously not as well-hidden as he had thought.
"Don't you start, too," the engineer cautioned his apprentice.
"Pretty Clarke! Scary Shadow!"
At the boom of Big Ray's happy voice, Clarke broke into a grin; Bellamy had a slightly different reaction.
"Dammit," he muttered to Monty as the No-Man's Clan leader approached and gave them each a hearty slap on the back.
"Well met, Scary Shadow! I'm fuckin' glad to see you and Pretty Clarke are still together! It'd be a damn shame if I had to fuckin' kill you!" Big Ray laughed. Monty's eyes rounded at the cryptic threat, and he shot Bellamy a worried look.
"Big Ray. Still alive I see," Bellamy answered noncommittally.
"Fuck yeah, nothin' can kill me! I'm too much of an asshole to die!" And with that Big Ray turned back to the campfire, where Sinclair and the others were waiting to greet the young travelers.
"I can't disagree with him; he really is an asshole," Monty murmured. Bellamy allowed a quick laugh, then sobered as he spied the Ark survivors.
"Ready for this?" he asked Monty and Jasper in a low voice.
"Yeah, why wouldn't we be?" Jasper's face displayed his confusion.
"Because pardon or not, we're about to find out what the Ark really thinks of a bunch of teenage criminals who've been living in the woods for the past couple months." And the janitor turned failed assassin who leads them, he added silently to himself.
"Bellamy!" Clarke motioned to him from up ahead, and Bellamy shot the boys a quick warning look before joining her.
"This is Sinclair; he's the engineer who boosted the signal on Big Ray's radio," Clarke began. "Sinclair, this is Bellamy Blake." She tried to think of a sentence to summarize Bellamy, some way to convey how important he had become to all of them. To her.
"He's the one who's kept us alive," she finished, knowing how insufficient it was.
"Bellamy Blake?" Sinclair's face changed as the name finally registered. "Oh, yes! You're that janitor from Factory station, the one who tried to kill the Chancellor!"
Clarke heard all the words, but her fear focused on the crime: tried to kill the Chancellor.
"Chancellor Jaha pardoned him," she reminded Sinclair protectively.
Bellamy heard the same words, but his resentment focused on the title: that Janitor from Factory station.
"Clarke, it's okay." His hand found hers and he squeezed lightly. "Sinclair obviously thinks he's still on the Ark, that's all." He stared the engineer down, daring him to continue.
"With all due respect, this is clearly nothing like the Ark, young man," Sinclair retorted, gesturing behind him at the small camp he and a half-dozen others had hastily thrown together. Clarke looked around critically, but Bellamy stayed focused on Sinclair. The engineer seemed tense.
"Are there any medical staff with you?" Clarke asked as a woman hobbled by on a poorly-bandaged foot.
"Dr. Griffin was our medical staff," Sinclair admitted. "She and Councilor Kane were leading us to Mount Weather when we were attacked. Half of us managed to slip away. After that we ran into the… No-Man's Clan," at his obvious discomfort with the nomads, Bellamy finally managed a sympathetic smile, "And that's when we contacted you."
"Do the Mountain Men know how many of you escaped?" Bellamy interrupted. Sinclair looked at him briefly, but directed his answer at Clarke. Bellamy bristled at the slight.
"I'm fairly certain they didn't even see us."
"That's probably true, Bellamy," Clarke said, turning to her partner. "The Mountain Men would have followed if they thought there were others."
"Yeah, I remember," he growled back, reaching up to run his thumb lightly over the place just below her shoulder where he knew a scar was forming. His face hardened; even through her sweater, he could picture the livid mark that served as a constant reminder of his greatest failure.
It would not happen this time, he vowed, turning his energy back to their current mission.
"Clarke, we need to get moving. This is taking too much time, and Abby doesn't have much of that right now." She nodded at him, fighting her body's natural reaction to Bellamy's caress. A part of her wanted to give in, to find comfort from her fears in his safe arms. But he was right. There was no time for that kind of weakness.
"How far are we from Mount Weather?" Bellamy asked Sinclair. Again, the engineer gave his answer to Clarke.
"It's about 90 miles to our southwest. Which is… um… that way," Sinclair pointed hesitantly. Bellamy smirked.
"No, that's North."
Sinclair turned on him.
He had just been through the worst few weeks of his life. He had lost his Chancellor, crashed a space station, slept outside in the cold and wet and dirt of Earth, eaten strange plants that turned his stomach inside out, and Kane and Abby had been kidnapped. His apprentice was a disrespectful jackass with a smart mouth, he had been forced to put up with disgusting radiation-soaked nomads for the past three days, and now this insolent janitor who for all he knew was some raging psychopath had the nerve to give him shit? The normally-serene Sinclair cracked.
"You are not part of this conversation, Blake! If we need cleaning advice we'll come to you, but otherwise back off!"
Clarke's mouth dropped open in shock; Bellamy crossed his arms with a bitter smile and a cynical nod. This was exactly how he had expected the Ark reunion to go. He turned to Clarke, intending to shoot her an "I knew it" look. His eyes betrayed him though, and Clarke's heart broke at the pain she saw there. They had not really talked a lot about their lives on the Ark, for this very reason. She belonged to the world of Councilors and engineers and doctors. Bellamy did not.
"No! Bellamy, you're staying." Clarke barked. She turned on Sinclair. "We've survived down here for so long because of this man! We need him if we have any chance of getting in and out of Mount Weather." Her blood heated at the thought of anyone making Bellamy Blake feel inferior. Her voice turned low, determined.
"I have to save my mother. And he's the one that can do it. So if you want to join us, fine. But don't think for a second that this is your rescue operation, because it's not. This is not the Ark, and you are not in charge down here."
Sinclair stared at her.
"Come on, Clarke, we need to plan," Bellamy finally cut in, grabbing her hand. As they walked away from Sinclair, Clarke tried to apologize.
"Bellamy, I'm sorry. I didn't expect -"
"It's okay, Princess. I did. I told you this would happen, didn't I? The privileged take care of their own."
She caught it, and it stung. The way he said "Princess". He had not said it in that warm, longing voice that melted her. He had said it mockingly, the way he used to back when it stood for all the invisible divisions between them.