MY GHOST, WHERE DID YOU GO?

I CAN'T FIND YOU IN THE BODY SLEEPING NEXT TO ME.

MY GHOST, WHERE DID YOU GO?

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SOUL THAT YOU USED TO BE?

The first light of the following day revealed the space beside her to be empty as Octavia awoke.

She sat up sharply and immediately flicked her head from side to side, searching the surrounding area for Aerrow but found nothing.

Indeed, the only trace of his presence was the blood stains on the bed underneath where he had slept.

Images from the previous night played over and over inside her head. What she had seen haunted her. The memory of Aerrow so calmly slicing his own skin open, actually relishing the agony it brought him made bile rise in the back of her throat. She never could have imagined Aerrow to be that... that...

She couldn't even begin to think of a way to describe how damaged he was, and in a totally different way to what she had seen in the past.

In the past, he had been distant and reclusive, an impervious block of concrete who shielded his emotions from everyone. Then after Sienna had been murdered, that block had been shattered, replaced instead with uncontrollable fiery anger, something which brought grave consequences for both himself and everyone around him.

What she had seen last night though was different again. Far removed from the rage and the indifference of the past, what she had seen last night was outright grief. And that had only been one night. God only knew how long he had been that way, or what else he had done to himself in that time.

She closed her eyes to empty her mind of all such thoughts. When she opened them again, she was greeted by the still empty room. No Aerrow. No Cleo. Nothing.

With that sight came the realisation that he had gone, again.

Left her. Again.

She knew not to dwell on the emotions that came with those thoughts. Aerrow was his own person, always had been. He did what he wanted. She wasn't even going to begin to try and understand the way he was feeling at present, nor what he might have gone through to bring him to that position.

There was a heavy weight on her chest as the look of defeat in his eyes burned itself into her memory. She thought that retreating back into solidarity was the worst thing he could do. It was why she had wanted him to come back to Arkadia with her. He still had friends, people who cared about him and could help him, regardless of the ones he had lost. One of the first things she had come to accept as Indra's second was that no one is immortal, and death is inevitable. There was no life after death, only life in living. She just wished she could have helped him understand that.

If she was completely honest with herself though, she knew that wasn't the only reason. Somewhere, hidden deep within her heart, she didn't want to lose him again.

So instead, with a slight sigh of disappointment, she eased herself out of the bed and began gathering her swords and the few other items she already had with her, along with supplies from the now defunct trading post for the journey back.

As she walked out of the door, she looked back over her shoulder and re-lived all her experiences in the building over the past few days. Then she cast them aside and shut the door behind her, sealing inside all memories of Aerrow Eroxin with them.

Aerrow stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the valley in front of him, lit up by the earliest rays of sunlight.

Illuminated gold by the dawn, he stood stoic and motionless, a lone sentinel against the empty horizon.

His eyes remained un-narrowed as he stared directly into the sun. His hair blew wildly to his side, having been allowed to hang free of its pony-tail. His upper body was covered only by his outer wolfskin coat which hung open at the front, revealing his barely healed wounds, vast areas of his body still glistening red with smudged trails of blood.

He glanced down at Cleo beside him. It would be so easy to keep walking, to keep the trading post behind him and never look back. It was what he deserved to do, to return to that isolation. But his heart was elsewhere.

Octavia.

His heart yearned to be with her. She was all he knew anymore, all he had left, and he doubted that with his mental fragility he could even survive being away from her again. But that would mean returning to Arkadia, something he just couldn't bring himself to do.

He closed his eyes and focused only on the feeling of the sun warming his chest, becoming one with the land, hoping to gain some idea as to which direction his path followed, but this time his Qinta teachings offered no assistance. He had no idea what he wanted to do.

"You really have changed, haven't you?" Octavia's voice came from behind him suddenly. It was quiet, yet distinctly sharp. There was no emotion in it, only acceptance.

He glanced over his shoulder back at her, disguising his surprise. He hadn't known she was there at all this time, so distracted had he been.

Both remained silent as he slowly turned back away and faced the sun again.

"I don't know what to do." He spoke eventually, though his voice was nothing more than a high pitched croak. "I don't recognise myself anymore."

Octavia paused for a moment, just looking at him, how his shoulders slumped forward and his head hung low in defeat. "Come back to Arkadia with me." She said simply. "Fight this."

"That's the thing Octavia..." He turned back around, and held his clenched fist up in front of his crinkled, grief ridden face, "I don't want to fight anymore... I can't..." His voice cracked as he trailed off.

Her eyes widened involuntarily at his words.

Aerrow Eroxin, the once legendary warrior, had given up.

Of all the people she knew, he was the last one she would have expected to hear such a thing from. The entire time she had known him, he had always been the first to take action, the first to take the fight to the enemy. His courage and determination were equals to his skill, and every time he fought, that same fire burnt hot and brilliant in his eyes.

But not now. Now, the person who stood in front of her was a stranger. The flame had been extinguished.

"Aerrow I don't know what's happened to you," she began, a prominent trace of ice in her voice, "But you can't keep letting someone else determine the direction your life takes."

Knowingwho she was speaking of, Aerrow made no reply. He simply pinched the bridge of his nose and turned side on to her.

"I don't want to go back to Arkadia either." She continued, "But I have to, because people there still need me."

"They don't need me!" He flared.

"Need is irrelevant." Octavia shook her head. "You're not this… this monster you think you are! I killed that monster in Mount Weather. I don't care what you look like, what you think you deserve, you're still you! You're still the warrior that defeated Tristan, the Reapers, the Pauna. The warrior that single handedly took on an army and won. The warrior that I need to believe is still alive, somewhere."

Aerrow scoffed in denial, and fully turned away, causing Octavia to further raise her tone.

"You can turn your back all you want Aerrow!" She shouted at him, voice laced with anger. "You can go back into those woods if you want, but if you do then you do so a coward."

"Don't proclaim to know how I feel!" He whirled around and shouted, finally cracking.

"Everyone you care about is still alive!" He advanced angrily towards her. "Lincoln, Bellamy-"

he deliberately cut himself off before he said 'himself'.

Losing himself to the torrent of rage, he grabbed her shoulders roughly as tears spilled from his eyes. "Until EVERY... SINGLE... ONE of them lies cold and dead at your feet, you won't know. YOU WILL NEVER KNOW!"

Breaking down once again, he let her go and staggered back towards the cliff. Stopping at its edge, he dropped to his knees, silently sobbing.

Octavia didn't flinch despite the sting his acidic words had inflicted on her. She bowed her head in acceptance. He had made his choice.

So she made hers.

Her hands went to her back. And then she drew her swords.

"I challenge you."

The words hung in the air, simple, yet powerful. Her voice was quiet, but hard.

Despite the cocoon of pain and anguish around him, Aerrow heard her words crystal clear, and he froze.

Looking back over his shoulder at her, he saw her standing there with the swords in her hands. Saw the determination in her eyes.

"What?" He asked in disbelief.

"I win and you come back with me to Arkadia." She said simply, her voice hard as concrete, "You win and you can go back into those woods, and never show your face again."

Her final words were icy, and cut through him sharply.

"I'm not fighting you-" he began, but Octavia never gave him the chance to finish his sentence.

She threw one of the swords at him, hard, its pointed end heading straight for his heart. Aerrow barely had time to even register her action, but his enhanced reflexes allowed him to spin around on his haunches and catch the hilt. No sooner had he caught the sword did Octavia come charging at him, her remaining weapon swinging hard and fast at his neck.

Instinct took over.

Aerrow brought his sword across his front, parrying her swing and forcing her to overshoot him. He was on his feet in an instant as his deadly skillset, accumulated over months and years of torturous training, snapped back into action. Muscles that hadn't been used in months suddenly leapt into action, and the warrior that was Aerrow Eroxin – Subject X – returned.

Octavia was immediately back on him, ignoring the flashes of pain in her side as she aimed fast, precise strikes at him, every single one with the intent to kill behind it.

Aerrow blocked them coolly and calmly, his eyes suddenly sharp and alight with concentration

He gave no thought as to the person he was fighting, nor why. His mind instinctually focussed only on the moment, his very next movement. His muscle memory and his experience with his weapon were intrinsic, and attacks he had not used in a very long time were simply second nature to him.

The sun continued to rise, poking itself over the cliff they were fighting on, revealing the two as nothing but silhouettes from a distance as the clashes of their identical coandite blades echoed down the valley.

As his blade clashed with his opponent's with ever building intensity, Aerrow underwent a transformation, one he didn't even notice. His grip grew tighter, his eyes became sharper and darker, and his thoughts turned from defending himself to attacking, deafeating, killing. In an instant, he ceased to be Aerrow Eroxin as the monster created by Hans Van Dyke and Oblivion reared its head and took over.

Captured by the grip of the fight, the urge to defend himself, the urge to win, he pushed harder and harder, consistently speeding up the rate of his attacks. His sword felt light in his grip, no more than an extension of his arm, and his every muscle was in sync as his movement blended together in a deadly ballet.

His opponent fought valiantly, but she was simply no match for his enhanced skill. She was fighting the man with hundreds of deaths on his hands, who had single handedly defeated the legendary Qinta warriors, who was the product of three generations of genetic splicing to produce the perfect human being, who had only ever been defeated once.

And then he saw it.

He saw Octavia overbalance, all her momentum and weight above her. All he needed to do was stay low, duck under her sword, and swing at her belly, and it would be over. Her insides would be spilt all over the ground. It would be a painful death-

Wait.

What the fuck was he thinking?

This was Octavia he was fighting! The only person left he actually cared about!

And here he was thinking exactly how he was about to kill her? This was the entire reason why he didn't want to fight in the first place. All that came from his fighting skills was death.

Never again.

"NO!" he screamed, violently turning away and throwing his sword to the ground with every bit of strength he had.

He turned back around, as Octavia quickly recovered her balance and barely halted her sword mere centimetres away from his neck. He stared right into her eyes. She was breathing hard, her forehead was covered in a thin veil of sweat. Her eyes betrayed a sheen of disappointment. In him. She had not wanted to stop fighting.

The aftermath of the fight hung heavily over him. Pure adrenaline still boiled within him, the need to survive, the addiction of battle. In that moment, he was transported back to that godawful room in Mount Weather.

Panting, he clutched his head and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to force the monster away. He had come so close to crossing to that other side again.

And it scared the shit out of him.

Once the fire finally, mercifully died down, he opened his eyes, took in the sword sticking out of the ground, then flicked his eyes to Octavia.

"You win." He told her, breathing heavily. "You win."

The flame of the torch burnt hot in his calloused and weathered hand, assaulting the skin with its heat, yet Aerrow never flinched as he stood in front of the deserted trading post, Cleo on his shoulder and Octavia by his side.

Once the adrenaline of their duel had worn off, they had returned to the building, where Aerrow tied his hair back once more and put on the rest of his fur layers. Octavia just wanted to get moving, and leave this place far behind them, but Aerrow couldn't leave some memories un-farewelled.

He stared at the unassuming grey building, his face a total mask. After the events of the previous night, the whole demeanor of the structure had changed. What had once been a warm and inviting place that he had actually looked forward to seeing at the end of a day gathering supplies, was now cold and dark. It just seemed to radiate death.

As if on cue, the dark and foreboding clouds that had built up throughout the day began gradually releasing flecks of snow, a reminder that they were still in Ice Nation territory.

Aerrow stood impervious to the cold, though Cleo tried to burrow inside his outer coat, her endothermic nature disagreeing with the conditions. Small yet rapid flashes of those he had lost danced in his vision. Arianna... Sienna... Clarke... even Oceana.

The grounder woman's faint yet homely smile quickly morphed into her dead and bleeding body in his arms. He quickly closed his eyes and forced the images away.

For a long time he stood there, completely still, his eyes calmly shut.

"What are you doing?" Octavia eventually asked him.

He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head towards her, capturing her with his blue eyes. She could practically see his warring emotions swimming within the irises.

"The Qinta taught me many things." He said softly. "How to survive after loss, how to eliminate the pain, but also... how to forget it."

"What do you mean?"

"Memory compartmentalisation." he told her simply. "They taught me how to live with myself by isolating sections of my memory."

"How?"

Aerrow paused, his eyes suddenly turning serious. "Simple: You pick an object, or a place, anything really, that can be divided into sections, then you isolate different memories, and seal them inside different sections of your mind, only accessing them when you wish to. It's a powerful skill, but takes time and discipline to master."

Octavia stared at him in a mixture of intrigue and disbelief. She didn't believe such a technique was possible. She wanted to ask him more about it but chose not to in fear of disturbing the very memories he sought to keep locked away.

Aerrow said no more. He simply turned back towards the building, whispered something in trig – a chant of some sort – then threw the torch onto the pile of alcohol-soaked wood stacked up against it. Despite the snow, the flame spread quickly, and soon the entirety of the building was on fire.

Octavia kept her eyes on Aerrow despite the glare of the inferno. He just kept staring ahead, into the heart of the flame, his face stoic and emotionless.

"What did you choose?" She asked suddenly.

Aerrow turned back to face her, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"What object did you choose, to isolate your memory?" She repeated carefully, voice quiet.

He didn't respond immediately. Rather, he turned front on once more and lowered his head. Octavia said nothing as he closed his eyes and seemed to look inside himself.

"The Ark." He said eventually, not a small amount of reverence present in his tone. "It's the only place I know."

"Makes sense." She replied, a little awkwardly. "I never really saw it, but it had many different sections, and strong walls with airlocks that could be completely sealed off. It would be a good place to store memories."

Aerrow nodded at her slowly, and flashed a small smile for the briefest of moment. "There's another reason too." He said somewhat mystically.

"What's that?"

"You can float them, too..."

He left the statement unfinished, turning from the blazing building and walking away, just as the walls began to creak and the doomed trading post collapsed in on itself.

Back at Arkadia, Bellamy Blake paced anxiously around the perimeter of the now flourishing camp. Well... not exactly 'paced'. More like limped.

He clenched his teeth and grunted as the wound in his thigh sent stabbing pain shooting through him with every step. A reminder of how close he had come to getting Clarke back.

He had been on a routine scouting mission with Monty, trying to map the surrounding area, when they had been summoned by Kane to meet with Indra. Upon their arrival, the grounder leader had informed them that Clarke was being hunted, by a phalanx of troops and bounty hunters, as those infected by greed sought to take her 'power' that they believed she held due to the number of lives she had taken. They believed it was her who had destroyed Mount Weather, and had began referring to her as 'Wanheda.'

A surprise encounter with survivors from another Ark station – Farm – had delayed them, but they eventually reached Ice Nation territory – thanks to a motorised vehicle acquired from a supply bunker close to the Mountain that hadn't been affected by the nuclear blast which vanquished their enemy – and learnt that Clarke was nearby from the owner of one of the trading posts.

They began searching for the blonde on foot, and eventually found her, alone, bound and gagged, and being dragged through the woods by someone who was evidently a bounty hunter. Pinned down by an advancing army, Bellamy had gone after Clarke on his own, and had paid the price: a sword through his thigh from the man.

It still plagued Bellamy as to where Aerrow Eroxin had been. He and Clarke had left the camp together months ago, and he assumed they remained that way, yet the entire time he was with her, Indra never once mentioned the warrior's name. It was like he had just... vanished...

Bellamy shook the thought from his head. He had more important things to worry about.

His sister had been missing for nearly a week.

Wait... Sister... Bellamy shook his head sadly as he remembered that wasn't actually true. Just before Clarke and Aerrow left, he had learnt that he wasn't Octavia's sibling, rather, someone else's...

That didn't mean he didn't still love her as he always had though, and the fact Lincoln hadn't seen her either only served to worry him further.

His was unable to stop himself from jumping to the worst possible scenario. What if she was lost? Injured. What if she was-

He cut his thoughts, not even wanting to go there. Octavia was a strong, skillful warrior, but she was still just one person in a world that hid many potential enemies. He remembered the Ice Nation army he had encountered, advancing across their border into Trikru territory. If Octavia had been caught up in that...

A shout from the gate drew his attention. Someone had been spotted outside the perimeter.

Doing his best to ignore the pain in his leg, he made his way over to the main entrance as fast as he could. He peered through the thick metal bars, scouring the landscape, and there he saw-

Octavia.

He let out a huge sigh of relief. From what he could tell, she was unhurt and ok in every way. Except she had someone with her.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and held his rifle up to his shoulder, peering through the scope to get a closer view.

He saw a man dressed heavily in wolfskin furs. He was walking behind Octavia, and there was a sense of nervousness in his stride. He had long blonde hair dispersed with streaks of black, and bright blue eyes that Bellamy was sure he had seen somewhere before...

But this man was a stranger. Azgeda by the look of his clothing. Why the hell would Octavia bring someone from the Ice Nation back to Arkadia?

"Open the gate!" Octavia called as she approached.

"He's not coming inside!" The guard standing in the watchtower beside the gate replied fiercely, still highly suspicious of any outsiders.

"I said open the gate!" Octavia said icily.

"Open the gate." Bellamy told the guard. The man glared at him incredulously for a moment, before reluctantly pulled the lever that controlled the opening mechanism.

The gates began to swing open and Bellamy immediately rushed forward to hug his sister – biological or not.

"Where the hell have you been?" He questioned.

The girl gave no immediate reply, instead she glanced quickly back to the man standing behind her, then back to her brother.

"I've been with-"

"Who the hell are you?" A guard interrupted her as a unit appeared at the entrance and raised their rifles at the grounder.

"Put the guns down!" Octavia told the guards in annoyance

"I told you this would happen..." The grounder muttered sarcastically at her.

"Name. Now." Bellamy demanded, stepping past Octavia.

"Bellamy what are you doing?" Octavia hissed at him, quickly moving around him to stand beside the stranger. Her tone confused him. She sounded like she expected him to know who this man was?

The man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, showing he wasn't a threat. He appeared to be un-armed, but Bellamy knew better than to trust grounders, especially Ice Nation.

And then he spoke. "You really don't recognise me?"

"Should I?" Bellamy answered, stern tone unchanged.

The man snuffed a laugh, then shrugged off his outer coat, revealing his open chest bearing numerous scars, angular black tattoos and... a large black and white Monitor Lizard perched on his shoulder.

"How about now?" He levelled his cool blue eyes on Bellamy's.

The older man was unable to stop his mouth dropping open as it all came rushing back.

"Oh my god..." He breathed as Octavia broke into laughter beside him.

"Aerrow?"

Word spread quickly of Octavia's – and especially his – return, and soon there were dozens of people gathering around.

Aerrow felt like a rabbit caught in a spotlight. The members of Skaikru had not forgotten the massacre he had committed on them, nor had the surviving members of the hundred forgotten how he had rounded them up in Mount Weather. He could practically feel the hatred radiating from the gathering crowd.

He felt overwhelmed, claustrophobic. He was dizzy and lightheaded, and just wanted to disappear.

He was right. Coming back was a mistake.

Blindly, he reached out for Octavia, desperate to grab a hold of her, but she was busy embracing Lincoln, her love for him re-ignited. He could only watch, forlorn, as the two held each other and exchanged sweet whispers, forever reminded that he would never be able to do that again.

He flicked his head back forward as he heard footsteps approaching fast, only to be met by a sharp slap to the face. He recoiled in shock.

"That's for trying to drill bone marrow out of me, and for leaving." A female voice spoke angrily.

Aerrow was ready to just turn, sprint away and never come back, when suddenly he felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck and hug him tightly.

"And that's for coming back." The same voice said much more softly.

In complete shock and confusion as to what had happened, Aerrow just stood dumbfounded as his 'attacker' cheerfully released him, and finally he saw who it was.

Raven Reyes.

Still in shock, he could only stare at the fiery mechanic who stood expectantly in front of him.

"That's all I get?" She said in mock annoyance – or maybe it was real, he could never tell with her... - "No 'Hi', no 'Good to see you Raven, sorry for being AWOL for three months'?"

He was unable to keep a wry smile from forming at her trademark blunt humour.

His mouth was quick to return to its neutral position. "I was never one for apologies." He said flatly

He paused, seeing the happiness fade from her eyes.

"It is good to see you, Raven." He placed a hand on her shoulder by way of apology

Slowly, the other surviving delinquents realised that he was not the same person who captured them, that he was actually 'him', and they accepted his return, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Even Kane came up and shook his hand.

Lastly, Bellamy pulled him into a strong hug. "It's good to have you back." He told the younger man quietly, having recovered from not recognising him at first.

"Thank you..." Aerrow said, voice low and quiet, so only Bellamy could hear. "...brother."


Yes, for those new to this series, it was revealed at the end of Into Oblivion that Bellamy and Aerrow are brothers. This may seem a bit pointless, and I know it somewhat spoils the bond between Bellamy and Octavia, but I made that choice for several reasons, some of which were revealed in Into Oblivion, and some of which are yet to be elaborated.

And yes, I think it is hilarious not having Bellamy recognise him after so long.