Here it is! The final chapter! I'll put a longer note at the bottom, but I just wanted to quickly say a HUGE thank you if you've read this far! The length of this fic got out of hand, so major kudos to you for making it to the end!

Enjoy!


Chapter 52: Like a Bird


It was the first time she was on a plane.

She was strapped to the wall of the hovercraft, the belts crisscrossing across her chest. She gripped them like her life depended on it; the skin over her knuckles was white and her fingernails dug into her palms from holding on so tightly.

Clarke had her eyes closed ever since she was stuffed on the ship. She didn't dare open them while the other cargo was loaded, and she didn't open them when the pilot tried to make conversation with her before takeoff. She didn't open her eyes when the drop door was slammed shut, shrouding her in darkness.

Only when she felt his hand on hers, she opened her eyes.

"Hey."

Clarke smiled at him and threaded her fingers with his. This was easy. It was home.

"Hey," she replied.

Bellamy sat beside her, his own belts strapped across his chest. She took a moment to admire him under the blue florescent lights that lit the cabin they sat in.

He looked good. Healthy. Happy.

He wore a simple black shirt and a grey jacket, just like she did. They also wore matching black pants with too many pockets, and matching cargo boots. Their clothing reminded her too much of what they wore into the arena, but she didn't bother to speak her mind. She doubted they really cared what she thought.

He looked good. His hair was still long enough to hang in his eyes, but it was still shorter than what it had been in the arena. It was as messy as ever, with several stay curls sticking up and laying across his forehead.

More importantly, he looked healthy. His cheeks were fuller than they were only two weeks ago, when she woke up in that hospital bed. She knew she looked healthier too.

The arena was hard on them. They were starved most of the time, and dehydrated for the other times. She barely slept and she knew he didn't either; whether it was because they were on watch, or because demons were keeping them awake at night, or because they were running to keep alive.

She knew they were both unhealthy from the arena and the tortured they endured. At least now, after two weeks of the Capitol pumping them full of fluids and other supplements, she was starting to feel better.

Even her injuries were almost healed. She wasn't too surprised by that fact; especially considering Octavia's fatal wound healed in the arena within a week from one dose of Capitol medicine. After weeks of living in the Capitol and being treated, they both looked good.

Bellamy's face wasn't covered with fresh wounds. The cuts along his body were faded to scars. Even the long slash on his palm from when he rescued her from the mutts in the pond was gone.

She knew that the claw marks along his torso were scars, too. The marks along his neck were still red, but they were healing.

Scars only remained.

It was true, in more than one way. She knew her body was littered with physical scars, just like Bellamy. Her hands were covered in marks from the mutts, most of which she was sure were going to fade, her cheek was still marked from the arrow that hit her when the Careers attacked the apartments, and her abdomen from where Dax stabbed her still was healing.

But scars were deeper than that.

The time she spent as a tribute left marks on her mind that were greater than anything physically apparent. She still hadn't had a full night's sleep; nightmares always woke her up. Even with Bellamy in the bed beside her, she woke up nightly, drenched in sweat and screaming.

He was always there.

Clarke still flinched at sudden noises and movements. More than once, her hand automatically traveled to her hip, where the hilt of her sword rested for over two weeks. She screamed and sobbed when she first tried to bathe after the games; the memories of being dragged to the bottom of the lake still apparent in her mind.

She was different. She knew it. She knew she wouldn't be the same; that what happened to her in the arena would stick with her forever.

Bellamy struggled too. The second night she spent with him, she was woken up in the night from him screaming. She woke him up that night, and held him as he sobbed.

She sobbed with him.

For Wells. For Charlotte. For Monty. For Lincoln. For Raven. For Murphy. For Luna.

For themselves, too.

They were just children. They were never supposed to have fought and killed people at only 18-years-old. They shouldn't have had to mourn for as many friends as they did. They shouldn't have to be terrified of sounds that reminded them of canons, or be thrown into a spiral of darkness from a tub full of water.

She mourned for their friends, but she also mourned for themselves. She mourned for the innocence they were stripped of. She mourned for the lives full of mundane things they never got to have.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since she thought she died. It was two weeks when she felt her torso ripped apart by Dax's knife. It was two weeks ago since she glanced up at the mechanical sky, so sure that it was the last thing she would see.

It had been two weeks and two days since she held Bellamy's broken body. Two weeks ago, she had no doubts over the fact that he was dead. She held him as he died. She cried over his body. She mourned for him.

It had been three weeks since she last seen Raven, or Monty, or Murphy, or Lincoln. She thought of them often. It was hard not too. She loved them and she lost them.

She thought of them during the day, and she dreamed about them during the night.

She could still see Monty falling backwards on the stairs, the spear embedded in his chest. Or, she could still see the blood flowing down Lincoln's neck, his eyes locked on the sky.

Worst of all were Raven and Murphy. They frequented her nightmares more often than the others.

She could still recall Murphy's screams with such accuracy, it made her heart drop to her stomach. She still remembered how he begged not to die alone, how he cried over being forced into a place that wanted to kill him. She remembered how his chest rose and fell so slowly that she was sure every breath was his last. Until it finally was.

She still remembered Raven's pleas for them to leave her. Her eyes were scared, but she was determined. Clarke didn't know exactly how she died, but she could imagine. Maybe her imagination was worse than reality in this case, but her mind enjoyed torturing herself with all the ways she could've died – all alone.

She also thought about Wells. And her mom. And Charlotte. And Atom. And Luna. And Roan and Cage.

She thought about all the blood and the screams. All the lives that she took, and all the lives she failed to save.

"It's okay. You're here. I'm with you." Bellamy called her back to reality easily, his hand squeezing hers. "We're safe."

"We're safe," she echoed. Her mouth was dry, but she nodded anyway. She forced her gaze to his. She focused on his eyes.

He smiled at her. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled from his smile, which caused her to smile too. She loved him. "We're not there anymore."

"I know," she mumbled. "We're okay."

This is what they did; they pulled each other away from the nightmares and away from the demons. She knew they needed to mourn and deal with the pain, but this wasn't the right time to do it.

While in the Capitol, they weren't safe. As long as they knew where they were, they never would be safe.

Clarke still knew about District 13. Bellamy knew it, too. On top of that, they were supposed to be dead. To the rest of Panem, they were dead.

Nobody knew they were alive and they carried secrets that could end Panem.

Why should they be kept alive? She knew the Capitol, and they weren't stupid. She knew that they would never be safe. Never.

So, even though they were out of the arena, they weren't safe yet. They could mourn when they escaped the clutches of the Capitol. They could mourn once they began to make a new life for themselves. The could heal once they escaped North.

"These backpacks are too familiar," Bellamy said after a moment, his toe prodding the bag at his feet. Clarke glanced down at the two bags the Capitol gave them.

He was right. They were nearly identical to the bags they had in the arena. It was a thought that chilled her to the bone and made her want to get sick. She never wanted to see or think of those bags again.

Really, it felt too close to being sent back into the arena. Between their nearly identical outfits and backpacks, Clarke could've swore that was where they were being sent.

When they landed, Clarke was even more sure of it.

The hovercraft touched down in the middle of a forest. While Clarke could tell the trees were a different species than the ones in the arena, they looked damn near identical. She tried not to look out the window as they landed.

"It's like we never left," she mumbled, her eyes locking on Bellamy's.

He gave her a brief smile. "This will be different," he promised her.

She believed him.

No killing. No running. No fighting. No surviving.

They would get to live here. They would really get to live – not just survive. For both of them, that would be the first time in their lives they could say that.

There wouldn't be a higher power watching their every move. They wouldn't fear the summer because of the reapings.

For Clarke, she wouldn't have to worry about how long the Capitol would let her live. She wouldn't have to worry that she was next to be murdered for what she knew.

For Bellamy, he didn't have to worry about working several jobs to support Octavia. He wouldn't have to worry about how they were going to afford food, or afford to live.

And, for Clarke, this was the first time since her dad was murdered that she was free.

Truly free.

She wasn't locked in a cell anymore. She wasn't a tribute in the Capitol; doing interviews and training to kill others. She wasn't in the arena, fighting for her life.

She was free.

The door of the back of the aircraft was opened as soon as they landed. Clarke unstrapped herself and slung the backpack around back, clipping it in place once again.

Bellamy was right. It was too familiar.

Even more familiar was their weapons handed to them by the co-pilot. She doubted that they were the exact same ones from the arena, but it was close enough.

"This is a personal gift from the president," she assured both of them. Clarke felt sick taking the hilt of the sword. "She wanted to extend her best wishes to you both, and she hopes your tokens from your time as tributes will remind you of your strength and bring you pride."

Bullshit.

The sword she was given came with a holster, which she strapped to her hips. She was reminded of ghosts of her past. Bellamy had a matching sword to hers, and a matching leather holster.

"The boarder of Panem is approximately 50 miles north of this position," the co-pilot continued to say, completely oblivious to both Clarke and Bellamy's discomfort. "In your backpacks, you will find a single map and a compass. I assume you know how to use both?"

"I do," Bellamy answered. Clarke was glad for that; that was a skill they weren't taught before they were sent to the arena. "I don't think it'll be too easy to miss, anyways. I'm fairly sure the electric fences and the Peacekeepers will give it away."

The co-pilot didn't pay attention to his sarcasm. "There is a crossing point two miles east of the Dawn Tower – both locations are pre-marked on your map." They nodded. "And, a reminder to stay away from anyone. This is a classified mission; none of the Capitol officials present at the boarder are cleared to know your mission."

Mission. Clarke hated that word. This wasn't a mission; it was an escape.

"Got it," she said stiffly. "Stay away from people. Secretly cross the boarder."

"And don't come back."

Bellamy's smile stretched thinly across his face. "You don't have to worry about that. We wouldn't ever dream about returning to this shit-hole." Clarke tried to fight her smile and took his hand. The co-pilot looked personally offended. "If that's all?"

They nodded sharply, her eyes narrowing at Bellamy's attitude. "You're free to go."

With that, Bellamy and Clarke walked off the ship. Just as they were about to take the steps down to the ground, she lifted her hand into the air and gave a half-wave. "See you all in hell." There was no doubt in her mind that those who helped murder children would meet her there.

They crouched behind a tree as the hovercraft took off again. Her hair whipped wildly around her face, stinging her cheeks from the force. Her eyes were locked on him as the hovercraft took off, trying to hold onto reality.

This felt too much like the arena. The forest. The backpacks. The weapons.

She pried her thoughts away from that. This was the first time in her life that she wasn't being monitored. This was the first time in her life that she was free.

And this was the first time in her life that she had hope.

She had hope for the future – a better future.

For the first time, she could imagine herself having a future. She had hope for herself. She wanted to heal her wounds, and she wanted to treat her scars. She wanted to focus on getting a handle on the trauma she experienced in the arena.

She wanted to discover who she was again. She knew she wasn't the same girl from before lock-up, and she didn't want to be the girl from the arena. She didn't really know who she was. She wanted to discover that. She wanted to decide who she wanted to be and work towards that.

And she wanted to do it with him. She could imagine waking up in his arms and falling asleep in them, ever day and night. She could imagine falling further in love with him and never letting him forget how much she cared about him. She could imagine growing old with Bellamy; of being a family with each other.

She wanted that. She wanted him.

And, for the first time in her life, she knew that she could choose that.

When the winds died down, they were left kneeling beside each other. The forest was silent, other than for the birds chirping in the trees and the wind rustling the leaves.

Clarke locked eyes with him. "What now?"

He flashed that coy grin that she loved so much. "Whatever the hell we want."

That sounded pretty damn good to her.


THE END


Not entirely sure where to start! I'm known for being sentimental, but I'll keep this short!

As I said earlier, if you've read this far, thank you so much! The word count is a lot higher than what I expected (or wanted haha), so thank you for reading and for sticking until the end!

An even bigger thank you to anyone who favourited, followed, or reviews. I appreciate it all! Just know, your enthusiasm made my days!

Major thank you to those who have been here since the beginning. I'm not too sure how many of you are out there, but please know I appreciate you sooo much!

I had a blast! This fic has been nine months in the making, so it's bitter sweet for this to be the last chapter! Thank you for coming on this long and wild ride with me. It's been fun!

If you enjoyed this fic, feel free to check out other Bellarke fics I've written by clicking on my profile! I think the number is currently at 31 other Bellarke fics.

Regarding a sequel/follow up one-shots: I am really leaning towards doing something as a follow up to this fic! All follow ups will be posted as a separate fic, but I will post something on my Tumblr and Twitter when they're up!

Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are appreciated. It's taken me months to complete this fic, so it would mean a lot if you could let me know if you read to the end :) As a good-bye gift to me! haha

Thank you again.

Paw