March 22, 2020

i. monty

.

"It's basic physics..."

-Monty Greene, the 100

.

The keyboard is dusty and half the letters stick—and fuck, I'm trying. Bellamy's hovering doesn't help, his anxiety simmers on the back of my neck. He's supposed to tell me what to do, but he stares quietly, like Clarke. Why won't they tell me what to do?

I almost got it. Looking to the screen, I see Raven screaming in agony, a drill buzzing into her knee. Bile rises in my throat, and on another camera, I see Jasper. He looks desperate.

The room is sterile, I can smell it as I click my last key. "Why are you stopping?" With a cracking voice, Clarke asks, leaning forward. Bellamy's eyes follow her, guarded.

Standing, I respond, "because I did it." My voice quivers as I point my numbing hands. A lever that holds the fate of Mt. Weather laughs in our faces. "All we have to do is pull this. Hatches and vents will open, and the scrubbers reverse, pulling in outside air."

I look at them both, and I see me in the way they shake. This is unforeseen, because they're supposed to be the strong ones, taking care of everyone. Bellamy looks to a camera, whipping out his gun. "He's gonna blow the door."

My skin pulls, and the acids in my stomach explode. Glancing at the lever, I decide for everyone who's going to do it, and I feel Bellamy Blake's eyes tear angrily into me. "Clarke! We're out of time." She grits her teeth, and I think it's tears I see in her eyes.

She holds her breath, let's it go, and does it three more times, working her self up, but she can't do it. I want to help, save them, save our people, but as I try to move my feet, they latch onto the ground. She exhales heavily, grasping the lever harshly. Her eyes are screaming and I can hear her turmoils numbing my ears.

("Murder," they whisper.)

But I can't help her, I won't. Even with my best friend on the line, even with Harper on the line, I just can't. There's no way I could survive killing so many people, and it seems she can't either. We're all going to die here.

"My sister, my responsibility." Bellamy whispers, looking down.

Clarke stares at the screens and unconvincingly murmurs, "I have to save them." Staring at Bellamy, she tries a breathing through her bravery again, failing. Clothing is tight on my ribs, suffocating, and it seems to be the same for her. Goodbyes leave my mouth leave my mouth silently, goodbyes and apologies.

Then, Bellamy's hand rests on hers. I see his nerves, and as Clarke meets his gaze, he softens more than I thought the King of the Delinquents ever could. Her eyes are tear-filled, naïve. She doesn't see it, I realize, the way Bellamy would bend himself backwards for her.

"Together." He whispers, and with the slightest of nods, they pull the crank. I see their fingers squeeze one another's. An apprehensive clicking fills the air.

Watching them reach the last click, I see them falling, but they hold on, because the other won't let them go. What they couldn't do apart, they can do together. I can see fear in Clarke's eyes when she looks at him, fear of what they are when they're together.

All I see are saviours, providers, heroes, but I have the feeling all she sees are murderers, murderers, murderers.

I hope they can bear it, because they always do, so we don't have to.

.

Two kids—barely fifteen—stop at my still. Honestly, I just set it up and here they are already. They are young, innocently laughing. I wink at them, giving them two glasses, remembering when Jasper and I were that age. When we first broke the law, sending us down to the ground. He sits by the fire now, staring, glaring, crying. My hands itch to comfort him, but his anger terrifies me. I've never seen Jasper like this.

More people slowly come to get my infamous moonshine, and when Jasper stops by, he doesn't even look me in the eyes. He takes a drink though.

(Later, I'll wish I had never given him that first drink.)

From my little busy corner, I see Bellamy Blake enter Camp Jaha. He walks toward me, seemingly unwilling to stop for any distractions.

"Two cups, Monty." His eyes are red while I pour him the drinks. Bellamy's hands grab both glasses. He clinks them together, whispering. "May we meet again." He downs them both in ten seconds, and I know one of them was meant for Clarke, the Princess of the Delinquents.

He asks for refill after refill, and I've never been one to defy Bellamy Blake, even in his transparent cries for a girl who he clearly thinks never gave him a second glance. But he's blind too, unaware of how much she sacrifices for him.

(Of course, she hadn't really known Mt. Weather was a trap. At the beginning, it was the perfect safe haven, and she threw it away, for Bellamy.)

"Honestly," I sigh to myself, "they just need to fuck." Harper, who sits at the end of the bar, snickers along with me.

—

Haaahhaa, hey! Lots of love for getting this far. If you have any characters and scenes you think would be good for this concept, leave a review.