A/N: Mega huge thank you and hugs to my amazing beta, Marina Black1, who has recently unleashed her prodigious talents on the Teen Wolf community with a "Pydia" story that is already at 3 chapters! Check her out!
A/N2: I am getting more comfortable with Twitter, and I hope you'll take a moment to visit me there! I plan to use it mostly as a place to announce updates on stories (FFN and otherwise), videos, etc...
A/N3: ... Speaking of which, I made a new video! It's on my YouTube channel and at the Tumblr page I share with my beta (links on my profile) - BUT YOU GUYS, THE 100 WRITERS RETWEETED IT! That blows my mind! *My video got retweeted by the ACTUAL writers of the ACTUAL show!* Help me I'm about to pass out!
A/N4 (Because why not, at this point): This chapter is structured a little differently. I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether or not you feel it works. Actually, I'd love to hear any of your thoughts. Because the Muses are completely addicted to feedback.
"Raven," Monty began, "I never had a chance to thank you." The couple were fashioning a stretcher capable of supporting Big Ray's considerable mass. She looked up from the work, surprised.
"Thank me? For what?"
"For… Mount Weather."
"You don't need to thank me," she replied. "I had to do it, to make up for everything." Monty's face fell at the words, at the clarification of Raven's real motives. So it had all been out of guilt after all.
"…Because I figure maybe that way," she continued idly, "You'll finally believe this." There was no real warning. Nothing Monty could have identified. Raven simply stretched across the frame they had constructed, pressing her lips to Monty's cheek. She sank back after a moment, allowing a bright, vulnerable smile that sent his pulse racing.
He had no choice; he responded instinctively. He shoved the stretcher aside and pulled Raven close, his mouth seeking out hers, desperate to help her see how much she mattered to him, how much he had to give her, and how much he had kept hidden from her in his own need for self-preservation.
There were edges to Raven. She knew that. Everyone who spent any time with her knew that. There were the jagged points of her, the splinters made by Finn, by her mother, by having to keep up with male mechanics twice her age. She had become so sharp she risked cutting anyone who got too close. And yet somehow Monty slid between those dangerous edges, slipped right through and into the softness of Raven's heart. She was unprepared for the gentle love Monty now offered her; she gasped and smiled. It was not their first kiss, but it might as well have been... It was their first kiss as two people freed, for just this moment, from the burdens they had each carried for too long.
"Jasper," Harper murmured, "Are you in a lot of pain? And please don't lie to me. I'll know." She sat by his head, staring over at Big Ray who was deep in conversation with Wick. The nomad was certainly not well yet, but at least he looked better this morning. She tried to imagine how they were going to move him when the time came – and it was coming, too soon. Staying much longer would only invite discovery by the remaining Mountain Men.
"I'm fine Harper. I've been through worse and survived, remember?" Jasper smiled weakly as he said it. "And Big Ray… he's indestructible. Give him a few days and he'll be okay."
"…Yeah, well, we don't have a few days."
"What do you mean?"
"Clarke and Bellamy want to leave today." She shrugged at Jasper's incredulity. "Dr. Griffin approved it last night. Monty and Raven even started building stretchers for you two."
"How? Where are we going?" He looked around at the cave full of children, being tended to by the women Clarke had rescued from Mount Weather. Jasper was tired of all this running. He was tired of the uncertainty. Tired of the instability. At this point, he just wanted to enjoy peace and quiet with the people he loved, with Monty and Raven and Harper and Octavia, with Clarke and Bellamy. He wanted to be home, and he was finally starting to realize how much "home" had come to mean that little section of the forest holding their drop-ship, their makeshift tents and hand-built wall, the graves of their fallen friends.
"Well, up until this morning the plan was to go to Sinclair. But after what happened with Kane? I really don't know where we'll go. Just… away from here, I guess."
There was a heavy silence, which Jasper finally broke.
"We're so close to the landing site. I never thought we'd be back here. And now… I'm not even sure I want to leave again." He sounded miserable. It broke Harper's heart.
"Big Ray," Wick said, "You aren't going to die today, right?" The giant nomad blinked.
"How the fuck should I know? ...But no, I don't fuckin' plan on goin' just yet," he managed. Wick cracked a smile at that.
"Good. Because it'll be a lot harder for us to be drinking buddies if you decide to stop breathing." Big Ray chuckled lightly, but cut himself short at the pain that stabbed through him. He shot Wick a grimace.
"Don't fuckin' make me laugh," he groaned. Wick's face shifted, to one of true concern. He swallowed hard and checked Big Ray's bandages, just in case he had actually done some damage. He need not have worried; the Griffin women had been as careful as they could under the circumstances. Wick waited until he was certain Big Ray was more comfortable before continuing.
"What are we going to do about the people we rescued? The women and children?" Wick knew the Ark survivors would try to help, but he also knew they had enough problems of their own. This planet, it turned out, was so much more dangerous and unpredictable than they made it sound in the Earth Skills classes. Taking on the responsibility of fifty extra mouths to feed and clothe and care for… It was hard to see how a handful of displaced spacemen were well-equipped for something like that. Then again, Big Ray and his group were nomads; they were the leftovers, the ones who had been unable to find a place within the Grounders' very territorial clans. What did they know about building a home, or raising children?
"We'll fuckin' take care of them, that's it. We'll give those babies all the shit the assholes under the mountain never fuckin' did. Sunlight, fuckin' fresh air, -"
"- A new, far more colorful vocabulary -"
"- Well, I can fuckin' learn, too," Big Ray grinned.
"Irene," Finn asked, "Do you care about me?" They were seated on the steps of Luna's house, working on one of the fishing nets. There were always fishing nets to be mended. Irene paused and watched Finn work. He was almost as quick a study as Octavia.
"Of course I do. You are kind, and gentle. You are a good friend." She smiled as he looked up at her, but today it did not have the power over him it usually did. Instead of smiling back in that charming way of his, Finn tilted his head and stared into her eyes. Into her heart.
"But… is that it? Is that all I am to you? A friend?"
"Is that not enough?" She glanced down, hoping he did not see too much. She hated the war within herself. Part of her did not like the answers she was giving this man, but she could not listen to that part just yet. She and Michael spoke often of Finn, and of his personal journey. She knew what she had to do to protect them both, if they were to have any hope of a future together.
Finn continued, unaware of her conflicted feelings.
"No, it isn't enough. Irene, you gotta know how I feel about you. I -"
"Finn, please do not do this," Irene answered quietly. She grabbed his hand, a sweet soft torture that Finn both hated and could not refuse. "Do not push for something that is not ready. You might damage what already exists. Time, Finn. Time is all I ask."
When she said it that way, Finn could do nothing but agree. She was so calm and steady, and so certain… he knew she was right.
Time, something they finally had in spades. She was right. There was no need to rush.
"Lincoln," Octavia announced, "I have to go to him." She had just bested the warrior in their sparring match, thanks to a new move Anya had taught her. As she sat on Lincoln's chest in the sand, a knife to his throat, Octavia forced back the light sting of homesick tears.
"You what?"
"I was wrong about all this. It doesn't feel right being separated from Bellamy again. It hurts. I wake up at night suffocating from it. God, Lincoln, what the hell was I thinking?!" Lincoln gently removed the knife from her grasp and sat up, settling Octavia into his lap.
"You were being a leader, Octavia."
"But that's just it! I don't want to be a leader, it's not me! I want to fight. Leading…. That's Bellamy's thing. I just want to have my own life back." Now the tears were impossible to hide, and Lincoln passed his thumb gently across Octavia's damp cheek.
"And what about your people?" He asked it not as a challenge, but a reminder.
"Shit." Octavia dropped her face into her hands. This had all gotten so complicated.
"I am truly sorry. But they need guidance, and with Bellamy and Clarke gone…" Octavia sighed at his words. She knew he was trying to help, but in this moment it felt more like he was creating a cage for her. She had promised her brother she could do this; she had been so wrong.
"Well… there's always Miller. And he actually likes it, I can tell. He can stay here with the group, and be Bellamy's lieutenant, just like he always wanted." Lincoln frowned. Clearly Miller had not mentioned his concerns about the Ocean Clan yet.
"Have you spoken with him?"
"No, I wanted to tell you first."
"Octavia, you must talk to him. There is so much to discuss, and you are now responsible for a great many lives." She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling this latest inevitable task as a great heavy weight on her shoulders.
"Sterling," Lara warned, "You have to stop being so clumsy. It's getting to be a little embarrassing." She leaned down to kiss his forehead and the blonde teen blushed.
"I know. It's so bad. Is Octavia really pissed?" He looked around the Ocean Clan medical hut as he spoke, in case Bellamy's little sister happened to be nearby.
"Yeah at first. But then she just got really quiet. I think she's tired." Lara twined the end of her long red braid through her fingers absentmindedly.
"Hey," Sterling called out to her softly. He knew that face. Lara was worried about something. "What's going on?"
"I overheard Miller and Lincoln talking," she admitted. "I didn't mean to. But I was going to tell Octavia about you slipping off the jetty, and Miller must have beaten me there, because she was already gone and he was telling Lincoln about…" She trailed off. It had sounded so bad.
"Okay, what were they talking about? ...Lara, whatever it is, it'll be fine, I'm sure."
"How can you be sure? Nothing is fine. Nothing has been fine in so long, Sterling!" Lara started to cry. She just missed life before the battle at the drop-ship. She wanted the comforting closeness of the woods. She wanted the simple joy of carving out a new society for themselves. She wanted Clarke and Bellamy back.
"Lara, please, just - what did you hear?"
"We're going to get kicked out. The Ocean Clan are tired of us," she sniffled.
"They're what?" Sterling shook his head in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"I heard Miller. He said we're overstaying our welcome." Lara wiped at her eyes. She had allowed a moment of weakness in front of Sterling because they were basically alone, but now she had to toughen up again.
"So, okay. Then let's go home, Lara." He grabbed her hand in a tight, comforting squeeze. "The ocean was nice, but frankly, I'm tired of almost getting myself killed every three days. I actually really miss the forest, don't you?"
Lara's face said exactly how much she missed it. She grinned in relief and threw herself against Sterling.
"See, this is why I love you. Because you always know just what to say."
"Oh? And here I thought it was my awesome hair," Sterling quipped as he planted a kiss on the sweet redhead.
"Bellamy," Clarke cautioned, "Remember, we have to focus on preparing for the trip."
He was able to stay calm until Kane reappeared. As soon as the older man stepped out from the cave entrance Clarke's quick fingers snaked out to grab Bellamy's wrist. He glanced down, surprised to see his hand had balled into a tight, angry fist. He did not realize it had happened; he thought he had more control than that.
"Blake."
"Not right now, Councilor," Clarke warned.
"He's not a councilor down here, Clarke. On Earth, he's just a man," Bellamy growled.
"You're right, I am. I'm just a man. And I've made more mistakes than most, I know that. But Blake… Bellamy… This mistake?" Kane stopped and shook his head. "You must believe me. I had no idea."
"You know what? I do believe you. But if you had known, would it have changed anything?" Bellamy strode forward, darkness at the edges of his vision pushing Clarke out of sight temporarily. He could see nothing but the scarred face of his newest nightmare. The desire to hurt Kane was not lessened, although there was, now, at least an interest in hearing more. He wanted to know all of it. He wanted to understand how this arrogant bastard had wormed his way into Aurora's life, how he had been able to walk away from her. Bellamy wanted to know if Kane would have fought for her, fought for Octavia. A real man would have; what kind of man was Marcus Kane, really?
Kane thought back to the day he had learned of Octavia's existence. He thought back further, to the man he had been when Aurora first appeared in his life. He had been young and foolish; she, a vibrant and tempting distraction from the pressures of his career. If she had not ended it, would he have stayed with her? If he had known about Octavia…
…Would it have changed anything?
He wished he could tell Bellamy Blake that it would have changed everything. He knew it was not true, though.
"I will not lie to you, Blake. You deserve better than that."
Bellamy stepped back, eyes narrowed at Kane's bald honesty. He waited for more.
"Who I was then…" Kane floundered for a moment. He was sure Blake did not know about the culling, about how Kane had ruined so many lives. "That man is not who I am now. I swear to you, nobody else will ever be hurt because of me. I will not allow it," he finally offered the fractured young leader. There was a beat of silence in which each man sized up the other.
"You are not her father. You don't have the right to swoop in and claim it now, after all this time, after all she's been through," Bellamy declared.
"I -"
"No. You don't speak." Bellamy's body vibrated as he worked to control the rage. "Right now you listen." Kane glanced to his right, to Abby, watching it all with her arms folded over her chest. She smiled sympathetically and the small gesture fortified him. He swallowed, nodding his understanding. Kane had no right to claim any ownership of this conversation.
"My people will help get you and the other Ark survivors back to your camp. And then we will leave, and you will not follow us. And you will never reach out to Octavia. If you do ever seek her out to tell her..." Bellamy let the fire in his eyes and the forward lean of his body finish the threat.
Marcus Kane wanted to say something. He wanted to find the words that would fix it all, for all of them.
But maybe, he realized, there were none. Maybe no words existed that could heal this kind of damage. Maybe there was nothing that would.
"Senator?" the aide called. "Are you in here?" Senator Fulton looked over her shoulder and smiled at the young black woman walking toward her through the large doorway of the abandoned ship. Her name… what was her name… It was always important to make people think you actually cared about them. That was one lesson Cary had taught her.
"Sarah," Fulton recalled. The girl beamed.
"Senator, are you sure this is the right place for us?" Sarah looked around the dingy metal room and shuddered. It was all so dirty… just like every other place above ground. Dirty. And cold. And the whole area reeked of death.
"Oh, I think it will suit us nicely," Fulton replied. She ran her hand lightly along the top of a metal chair attached to one wall. This first floor was lighter, almost airy; the upper levels were much darker, but darkness was something she and her people knew how to handle.
"I don't mean to sound impertinent, Senator, but there are so many of us… And there's not much room in here."
"We shall prioritize, Sarah! The most important members of our community must be cared for first. That is how we have always survived. Please inform the remaining Senators that we will reconvene here, at sunset tonight. In the meantime, since I have lost my senior aides, I would like to offer you a prestigious assignment, my dear." She tilted her head as Sarah's eyes brightened. The woman was ambitious. Fulton liked that. As long as the young thing did not overstep her bounds, she could prove to be a valuable asset.
"I would love to help," Sarah breathed. The Senator nodded and turned away. This conversation was already boring her.
"Good. I need a census. Who has survived, what are our human assets, which skilled labor sectors now lack sufficient worker representation… and then we must consider how we can make up those deficits."
Sarah shook her head in awe. Thank goodness Senator Fulton was in charge.
The silver-haired leader walked out of the large empty drop-ship, and into the charred ring surrounding it. She watched her people, cleaning away evidence of the horrific battle that must have taken place here, and smiled to herself.
The Mount Weather escapees' ship would serve her plans well.
