A/N: I'm so sorry for the long, long delay in updating. Life really got away from me with lots of heartache and changes, but things have mostly settled and I'm going to make a bigger effort now as I really want to see this fic through! Thanks to everyone still hanging in with me- it means a lot!

...

Bellamy made his way down the corridors of the Ark to the reclamation centre. It hadn't been easy to save even a small number of rations from his meagre income, but he'd managed to do it. He was used to going hungry and he didn't have much of an appetite either, so he simply skipped meals, and that plus working a few overtime hours when he could get them meant that he had a modest surplus of rations saved.

He'd woken up with the idea a few days before- that maybe he could get Octavia's necklace back, the globe he'd given her on her thirteenth birthday. If he could, then he could surprise her with it on Visitor's Day, give her something to hold onto over the next two years, before she would come home to him. He wanted her to have something tangible that she could wear against her skin, under the clothes they'd given her… a constant reminder of what was real- of home.

The reclamation centre was always busy, and today was no exception. Bellamy's apprehension grew as he drew closer, because he knew the place would be well guarded. It wasn't unusual for relatives of people who'd been floated to come there, desperate to regain personal belongings, the last ties to those who had disappeared out an airlock. Now, it was Bellamy in that position, and for a moment he felt a pang as he thought of his mother, wishing there was something of hers to recover. But what would there be? Her sewing box? Her needles and thread? Even if he located those items, he couldn't be sure they would have been hers, because they were standard issue. Aurora hadn't had any personal belongings of her own- everything she'd possessed, she'd given to her children.

The moment he reached the centre, he saw the guards standing at the doors, and his heart sank as he recognised the telltale red hair that was easily identifiable as Vaughn's, even with his back turned to Bellamy as it was now. Drawing in a long breath, he steeled himself and walked over to the entrance.

Of course Vaughn saw him right away and hurried over. He looked as nervous as Bellamy felt as he said, "Hey man… how are you?"

He shifted a little; it seemed like a weird question and he couldn't help but give what was probably a weird answer, "I don't really know."

"How's Octavia, have you seen her?" Vaughn asked next.

Bellamy had a visceral reaction to hearing his sister's name spoken aloud- even the simple fact that people knew about her and could discuss her publically made him feel nervous and slightly sick to his stomach. He shrugged off the question and just shook his head. "Not yet. I won't see her until Visitor's Day." As for how she was doing? He didn't want to imagine.

Vaughn nodded his head and smiled. "Well, that's really soon, right?"

"Yeah," Bellamy answered shortly.

"You're lucky you can visit her," Vaughn offered.

Bellamy felt a swell of anger at that comment and gritted his teeth, shouldering past him. "I don't have much time before my shift starts," he said, ignoring the feel of the younger man's eyes on his back as he walked away.

The goods in the reclamation centre were logically arranged, appearing very much like a bustling marketplace- racks of clothing, tables of watches and jewellery, displays of artwork and keepsakes. It was all for sale, but as he saw people bartering all around him, it felt like they were spending blood money.

He knew every one of these items had belonged to someone whose body had burned up in Earth's atmosphere, blown from an airlock for one crime or another. He wondered how many had been like his mother, technically guilty but innocent by any reasonable assessment. Should it be a crime to steal food when your family was starving? Should it be a crime to find yourself carrying life, and simply refuse to snuff it out? To raise it instead- imperfectly yes, but as best you could given your circumstances? As he saw it, in situations such as those it was the system that was guilty. In death, he felt his mother's sins had softened.

Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Bellamy moved over to the jewellery tables and began searching through the necklaces for his sister's globe. He pictured that day he'd given it to her, the day she became a teenager, and he could see in his mind's eye how her face had broken into a grin as she'd thrown herself into his arms. He remembered how his chest had swelled with happiness in that moment, and how he never felt at peace unless his sister was content.

He looked for quite a while but couldn't find the necklace, so he approached one of the workers, a young woman with soft brown eyes and long, plaited hair. He gave her a smile, hoping she could help him.

She returned his smile in a way that let him know she thought he was cute, but he couldn't think of anything anymore besides Octavia. "I remember that necklace," she told him when he described it. "It was really pretty- unique."

"I bought it for my sister," he told her, feeling that involuntarily churning of his stomach as he said those words out loud, and saw her eyebrows rise in shock at the taboo word. "It was taken from her when she went into the SkyBox," he explained. "I want to give it back to her."

"I'm sorry," the young woman said, shaking her head. "A piece like that is always popular… it was snapped up pretty quickly. You should have come right away."

His jaw tightened for a moment as he shook his head, disappointment like a bitter taste in the back of his throat. "I didn't have the rations until now. Do you know who bought it?"

"I'm sorry," she said again, gently. "I can't tell you that- we have a strict policy."

"How much?" he asked outright. "I'll transfer you some rations for the information."

But she shook her head, growing nervous. "I can't tell you. I could be floated."

Bellamy let out a humourless laugh, more of a short bark. "Well that's ironic."

The woman frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Picking up a handful of necklaces, he shook them at her in disgust. "Everything here belonged to the dead, or kids locked up and waiting for death. And you sell it like it's nothing."

Her face reddened enough that he could tell despite her dark skin and she snatched the necklaces back from him. "I'm sorry, but those people are criminals," she said shortly.

Bellamy's jaw clenched. "You're not sorry at all," he growled.

"Okay," Vaughn's voice came suddenly from behind him, his hand clapping onto Bellamy's shoulder. "That's enough, come on."

Bellamy wrenched his shoulder out of Vaughn's grip and whirled on him, clenching his fists. "Leave me alone!"

"Calm down," Vaughn hissed, eyeing his fists with obvious nervousness. "Just take a breath. If you do something stupid, you're not going to see Octavia and you're definitely not-"

"Dammit, stop saying her name!" he cut him off, the sound of it on anyone's lips but his own and Aurora's sounding wrong and like a violation, like danger. It was irriational but he couldn't help the lifetime of conditioning.

"Alright, we're going for a walk," Vaughn said firmly, and this time he seized Bellamy's arm and hauled him from the reclamation centre and around the corner of the corridor, where he pushed him against the wall. "Are you insane?" he hissed. "Do you want to get floated?"

"Maybe I do," Bellamy snapped, shoving him off. But they lost eye contact as he glanced away, annoyed that Vaughn had made him feel stupid. Though he sometimes wanted to die, it wasn't really true he wanted to be floated. He let out a breath and said, "You need to back off."

"No, you need to think straight," Vaughn retorted. "I'm serious. People are watching you, man, just waiting for you to fuck up. I can't protect you forever."

This was all a confusing revelation for Bellamy, who gave him a blank look in response. "What are you talking about?"

"The guard," Vaughn said impatiently. "You're a cautionary tale. You were the first cadet from Factory to ever make it even close to graduation. And all the while, you were living a double life- and you were doing it so well that absolutely no one suspected. You were committing crimes under the noses of the best guards on the Ark." He let out a breath, shaking his head. "You ruffled a hell of a lot of feathers, Bellamy, and they are just waiting for you to screw up so they can float you."

Bellamy's heart was sinking into his feet, but not for his own sake. If that was how people felt about him, then what about Octavia? Would she suffer because of the feathers he'd ruffled? Would she be floated in two years because of his mistakes? Just like their mother?

He turned around, pressing his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, trying to calm his tumultuous thoughts.

When Vaughn's hand tentatively settled on his shoulder, he didn't shrug it off, or acknowledge it either. Once he'd been allowed to keep his hand there, Vaughn gently squeezed and said softly, "You know I'll be here for you if you let me."

For a moment, he felt his walls trembling- not crumbling yet, but there were tiny cracks, fissures in his defences. There was a moment when he could have let them fall, and for that moment it felt good- the idea of letting Vaughn in, of having support, of not being so alone in all of this.

But just as quickly that moment passed and he felt his back close up, as he shrugged out of Vaughn's touch, turning to face him. "I'm fine, okay?" he said sharply. "I don't have time for friends. I'm working sixty hours a week and I'm getting things ready for when Octavia comes home." That last part made no sense and he knew it didn't, but he gave Vaughn a stony face so he didn't argue.

Pushing past him and around the corner, Bellamy headed back into the reclamation centre. Vaughn didn't follow him inside, and Bellamy told himself he was glad. He went back to the jewellery and gave the now-wary young woman a tight smile. "Okay then, the globe is gone," he said. "So what can I get for a hundred ration points?"

She was hesitant for a moment, but then she smiled and decided to help him. It was pitiful, really, what he could buy- just a small selection of necklaces and baubles, bracelets and earrings. It was another insult, that everything in the reclamation centre- everything that had been loved and carried by the dead- was extremely overpriced. He realised that he never would have been able to buy back Octavia's globe anyway.

In the end the only thing he could afford was a steel chain with a handmade pendant, repurposed from a hunk of metal and a nail, nothing special at all. It made him feel like a failure- he wanted to give her something that would show her how much she was loved, how special she was, not a lump of broken metal welded together so someone as poor as he was could say they owned jewellery.

The woman must have seen how miserable he was as he held the thing in his hand, because she finally smiled properly at him and said, "It's the thought that counts. How about I engrave something on it- I'll only charge you ten more ration points if you keep it under six letters. That's a good deal."

Even though ten ration points felt like a fortune right now, he nodded his head. He'd gone hungry for Octavia a hundred times- this was no different. Thinking for a moment, trying to decide what he wanted to put on it, it was suddenly all too clear.

"Blake," he told the woman, handing the pendant over.

She smiled at him, taking the necklace back. "Is that your name?"

"It's our name," he answered, staring down the uncomfortable look that passed across her face for a moment. She turned away and got to work, probably wanting more than anything for him to leave.

Putting Blake on the necklace wouldn't just be for Octavia, it would be for his mother and for himself- to remind her that no matter what else happened, they were family and always would be. She just had to remember that, and she would survive the next two years. They both would.

Once the necklace was back in his hand, he examined the careful letters that adorned the side of the metal casing that held the nail and a small, delicate steel tassel. Those five letters meant something much bigger than just his mother's surname, or his and Octavia's- it was an identity they shared, something no one could take away from them. Bellamy and Aurora had both had other forms of identity- Factory, the Ark. But Octavia had only ever had this one. Even now, though she was catalogued and recorded, she wasn't really part of society. But she had always been, and would always be, part of the Blake family. In fact, she had defined it.

Bellamy knew how his sister yearned to be included, to matter, to fit somewhere. To be real. So, he would walk in with this necklace on Visitor's Day, clasp it around her neck, and remind her that no matter what happened inside the SkyBox, no matter what people said, she did belong. She had always belonged.