a/n I'm so very grateful to everyone who left lovely comments on the last chapter. I've been struggling more for both motivation and time to write than I'm used to recently and it meant the world to me! I have no immediate plans to start a new multichapter next week but there are definitely plenty more fics to come from me. And if you're on FFN, please do hop over to AO3 where I'm posting more fics these days.

This epilogue has a few Bellarke breadcrumbs but is mostly focused on Wecho (Wells/Echo) who are another of my favourite OTPs. If you hate that pairing as a concept please do not read and leave hate. This is actually the fic which first got me thinking about them as a pairing a couple of months ago. I've written another fic for this pairing too - "Twin Suns" is Wecho and Bellarke and you can read it on AO3. Happy reading!

Content note: canon compliant bereavement and childhood abuse/brainwashing. Canon typical references to warfare.

The first time they meet, Wells thinks nothing of it.

He's trying to bustle round the grounder cages as quickly as possible, trying to free everyone in a dizzying rush. Clarke and Bellamy are working on his right, Miller over on the far wall. So he just wants to keep moving, keep unlocking cages. He figures these people have already been locked up too long.

But there's some woman here who seems to have a problem with his brisk, businesslike approach, or with his attitude, or frankly just with the situation itself, he suspects. She's on the top row, left-most cage. And when he goes to open it, starts fumbling with the lock, she actually goes and spits at him.

"Great idea. Spit on the guy who's trying to get you out of here." He grumbles, more annoyed than truly angry, as he keeps faffing with the lock. It just won't go, damn it.

"What? I'm supposed to be grateful to you? Manon scum."

"I don't care whether you're grateful or not. I'm doing this because I don't think anyone should be locked up. I'll be past you and onto the next prisoner as quick as I can." He assures her, a little sour. He understands her ingratitude, to be honest. The Mountain Men have been locking people up a long time. Here he is, swooping in as some kind of saviour – it makes him uncomfortable to say the least.

He's got the lock open, now. It took a while. He ought to just keep walking, reach for the next cage. This proud, bitter woman can sort herself out from here.

But his curiosity gets the better of him. That often happens – he's always been a curious sort. He likes to think that's what makes him so good at chess and Earth Skills.

Unfortunately, it also makes him good at getting into hot water. And he doesn't know it, yet, but this encounter is destined to drop him in the hottest water of all.

"What does manon mean?" He thinks he might like to learn the grounder language, one of these days. That sounds like the kind of thing a curious guy might do.

She frowns at him. "That's what we call people from the Mountain."

He laughs shortly. "I'm not from the Mountain. I couldn't be less from the Mountain. I'm from the sky – these manon scum wanted to steal my bone marrow."

"What – and now you're working with them?"

"No. Now my friends have made them work with us. It's not as simple as being on their side or being against them. There are always more than two solutions to every problem." He concludes, then runs out of steam. He's not sure that's true, actually. In his experience, sometimes Earth has a way of presenting a person with an unpleasant only choice. But he's frustrated by this ungrateful woman who doesn't seem to appreciate the work his two good friends have put into her freedom.

Sure enough, she is still unimpressed. "I don't think that's true. I didn't have any good choices when I ended up here. It was either die or be captured."

"Yes. Well. Maybe it's not always true. But it's not as simple as us or them." Of that much, he is certain.

She frowns at him. Just that – she frowns. But she's stopped arguing back in that sour tone, so he supposes that's progress.

She pushes open the door of her now-unlocked cage and walks off towards the exit with the rest of her people.

And he thinks nothing of the odd encounter, because why would he?

…...

The next time he meets her, he actually manages to learn her name.

It takes him a moment to clock that it's the same woman. Of course it does – he's not expecting to see her. He hasn't thought about her at all since their last encounter – obviously he hasn't. Or if he has thought about her, just a little bit, he's thought of her by way of example of how difficult it will be to bring himself to feel warm and friendly to certain of their new allies.

Anyway, he hasn't thought about her. Much. And he's not expecting to see her, because to the best of his knowledge she's just some random grounder who probably lives many miles from here.

So it is that he's at a summit of the alliance in some village called TonDC with Clarke and Bellamy. Or rather, he arrived with Clarke and Bellamy. But then they went at once to speak to a cousin of Lincoln's and now Wells is just sitting quietly near the fire and wondering if he looks lonely or pathetic.

It's just something he occasionally finds himself fearing, as he lives life in Clarke's shadow. He loves her, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He just worries that he looks like a devoted and useless spare part, some of the time.

So here he is, sitting on his log. And all at once he hears a sour voice by his elbow – or perhaps not sour so much as cynical.

"It's you." She says, as if that's supposed to be a greeting. He turns, takes a moment to place her. Ah yes – that woman. "The naïve guy who thinks there's always a choice and we should all be friends."

He chooses not to rise to that. If she wants to undermine him, he can beat her at her own game with a bit of self-deprecating humour. That'll take her by surprise. "I'm surprised you don't remember me as the guy who can't operate a lock."

She snorts out a short laugh. "That too. Anyway – it's your fault I'm here."

"It is?" He doesn't see how anything in this woman's life can be his fault, when they are strangers so wholly unconnected to each other.

"Yeah. Something you said about always having options must have stuck with me." She says, carefully light, as if it is difficult for her to admit that. "I suggested to my Queen that maybe we should give this alliance a chance. She decided that if I cared about it so much I should be the one to travel to this damn summit."

"Your Queen? And you're from a clan far away?"

"Ice Nation."

Oh. Right. Well that explains why she's difficult and not into the idea of peace, he thinks. He's been loosely acquainted with clan politics for perhaps a fortnight and he's already got that far.

"And do you have a name? Or next time I see you at a summit am I going to start out with it's you, the sour woman who thinks peace is a waste of hope?"

She laughs at that – a little longer than the short bark she managed just now. "It's cute that you think I'm going to be at the next one. I'd be surprised if Queen Nia tolerates this idea for that long."

"She's not a fan of peace?"

"She's not a fan of anything except her own power."

"She sounds pleasant."

A snort. This Queen Nia sounds like a piece of work. That's the sophisticated conclusion he reaches – he really is doing great at this ambassador lark.

"You still haven't told me your name."

"Echo. You?"

"Wells. Commonly known as Clarke's sidekick."

"Clarke's the blonde who makes the decisions?"

"Yeah."

Echo nods, a thoughtful frown etched across her brows. "But she's not like Queen Nia, is she? She makes kind decisions."

"She makes decisions with an eye to all her people, not just herself."

Another nod. "And you? What do you do?"

"I sit by the fire and wait for her to finish. Sometimes I help her out if she needs it – but mostly she has Bellamy for that these days."

"I think I sit by the fire too. I don't know what else to do." Echo admits, hands spread in a helpless gesture. "I'm not an ambassador. I'm a spy and a warrior. I'm only here because I dared to suggest to my Queen that Azgeda should take part."

"You're fine. Being an ambassador isn't that hard – at least to a certain level. As long as you don't offend anyone and you agree peace is a good idea you're off to a good start."

She snorts out a sad laugh. "I offend people everywhere I go. And I've spent my whole life perfecting the art of war."

"Well at least you showed up. That's a start."

…...

It's a start. Wells realises quickly it might be the start of something else, too, besides Echo's career as an unlikely ambassador.

By the following morning, he's realised it might be the start of a friendship as well.

It's because Echo doesn't really have friends. That's how he'd explain it, if he had to guess. Maybe it's what she said about offending people everywhere she goes, too. In that first day of the summit she sort of latches onto him, sitting next to him at the fire, nodding when he nods in the large meetings of all the alliance representatives.

He dares to ask her about it, towards the end of the second day.

"Don't you know anyone else here? Any old friends you want to introduce me to?" He tries phrasing it like that, because he doesn't want to make her feel bad for her clinginess.

He's not sure why he cares whether she feels bad though, to be honest. She's a brisk sort of woman, and a near-stranger to him. It shouldn't bother him if he calls her out on having no friends.

It does, though. He thinks maybe it's because he knows what it's like to be a loner. He's been there. All his life, he was only close with Clarke – and then he let her believe he got her father floated. He remembers being damn lonely when he lost her friendship.

It's not the same, he tries to tell himself. He's generally a good guy – or at least, he tries to be. This Echo is rude, and warlike, and fights for a clan who are apparently always causing trouble.

But he's not sure she likes living like that.

The silence has lasted too long now, he's pretty sure. It's a good six seconds since he asked Echo the question and she still hasn't answered.

"Echo?" He prompts.

"I don't have old friends. I'm an Azgeda spy. We don't do friendship. I had a friend once – she's dead now." She says, in a tone which makes it quite clear that is not the whole story.

He swallows hard. He's not going to dig deeper into that tale. He's not sure what to do at all, actually. He's feeling a sudden impulse to pull this fierce woman in for a warm hug.

No. He shouldn't do that. Something about the idea feels almost dangerous.

He gathers his courage and tries something else. "Maybe it's time to make new friends, then. You've never had a real conversation with Clarke and Bellamy, right? And the Trikru ambassadors are great. That Podakru delegate over by the food? Loves his bow. You'd have something in common with him. Come on – let's go introduce ourselves."

She's the one who stands up first, actually. It's as if she's spent her whole life just waiting to hear she's allowed to go and make friends.

…...

The summit draws to a close at the end of the week. Wells finds himself strangely bereft at the thought of losing his new shadow. It's not that he thinks a friendship built on one party following the other around like a lost lamb is a particularly healthy thing. He's pretty sure it would be better for everyone if Echo felt able to stand on her own feet. She's such a strange tangle of prickly, combative confidence and scarcely concealed vulnerability that he cannot make head nor tail of her.

All the same, it's been nice to be needed. It's been nice to feel wanted at least a little, and to have a role which is unique to him. He doesn't see anyone else offering beginner's lessons in diplomacy around here.

On the last morning, Echo finds him by the fire.

"I wanted to thank you for showing me around this week." She says, simple and a little stilted, as if gratitude does not sit sweetly on her tongue.

"You're welcome. I've enjoyed it." He swallows hard. "Maybe I should do things like this more often – sort of mentoring people who are new to politics."

"Yes. Of course. I was talking about your diplomacy tips not your friendship." She deadpans.

He gapes at her. Is that teasing? He thinks it must be.

"Oh. Right. You're welcome." He babbles, flustered. No one except Clarke and maybe Bellamy or Miller has ever thought his friendship is worth getting grateful over.

"I should thank you for bringing me here in the first place." She continues now. "I never would have been here if you didn't speak to me that day you opened the cages."

"Yeah? I guess I'm surprised that conversation was enough to change your mind."

She shrugs. "I'm not. It's the fighter in me. I had to rise to your challenge."

He frowns slightly. He wonders whether there's something else going on, here. He often wonders that with Echo – whether there's more to her than meets the eye, something going on behind her carefully impassive face. It's disconcerting, he decides, to be a spy's new best friend.

But he lets it go, today. He nods, smiles as best he can, wishes her a safe journey home.

"You too." She says, almost warm. "May we meet again. Isn't that what your people say?"

He agrees with a nod, and by repeating the words in turn. "May we meet again."

…...

They do meet again. They meet six weeks later, when a trade delegation comes to call at the settlement now known as Arkadia. They meet just as Wells is beginning to put her out of mind – really he is.

But then half a dozen representatives of the coalition walk in the gate, Echo at the head of the group, and Wells finds himself walking over there to shake her hand.

She doesn't seem to be very good at shaking hands. She holds onto his hand a little longer than he thinks is normal. But he doesn't pull away, of course, because as her mentor in the art of politics he mustn't be rude.

Also because she has nice hands, it turns out. Strong, fine-boned fingers. A firm grip. Calloused palms, but not rough against his skin.

Whatever. Hands are hands. It's fine.

"You still live here then? I wasn't sure." She says by way of beginning. As if it's his presence here which is the surprise.

"Most of the hundred are settled here for now, so I'm staying put."

"Of course you are." She says, with a look he cannot read. She's difficult to read, and it annoys him more than it should.

"Why are you here? We were expecting a trade delegation."

"I'm the Azgeda ambassador now, remember?"

"I don't think we were expecting Azgeda at all." He says, aware he's starting to sound petulant. But he's really becoming quite puzzled by why this woman keeps showing up in his life.

"We have the best winter furs. I heard you wanted to talk about trade links with the coalition and invited myself along." She says simply. "I want to show Queen Nia there are advantages to peace."

"How's that working out for you?"

Echo snorts without humour. "I'm here. Let's call that a start."

A beat of silence. He wonders whether he should ask more about how things are going with talking Queen Nia into peace, more about the tiredness Echo wears about her eyes.

What slips out of his mouth is something quite different, in the end.

"Have you eaten? Shall we sit down together and catch up over a meal?"

"I'd like that." It's an understatement. Echo is difficult to read, of course. But even despite the impassive mask she is trying so hard to keep in place, he can see that she is delighted that he asked. There's a light in her eyes which simply cannot be misinterpreted.

…...

They eat together often over the next three days while the trade delegation are in Arkadia. It's not a big deal. Really, it isn't. Just two friends eating together – he can't ditch her, because that would be unkind when she doesn't know many other people outside Azgeda.

He's beginning to realise that excuse is wearing thin now, though. Echo will happily say hi to Lincoln or chat with Clarke. There's a woman from Delfikru she seems to be friendly with, and a huge guy from Shallow Valley who likes chatting with her about shooting – or more specifically which bird feathers make the best fletchings.

But still she somehow ends up eating every meal with Wells.

He enjoys it more than he probably should. He enjoys getting to know Echo more as a person and less as a hapless ambassador he's taken under his wing. She seems to have found her feet in the world beyond Azgeda, now, and it turns out she's sharply confident when she knows what she's doing. She's got a good head for political strategy, for all that she was initially unsure about what an ambassador even does, and Wells enjoys sharing stories with her about his time as the Chancellor's son and her time on the Queen's guard. They both have a bit of a once bitten, twice shy attitude to positions of power, he thinks.

Sometimes those chats about personal experiences of politics drift into chats about personal experiences, pure and simple. At supper on the third night he finds himself telling her about his parents' deaths, and watching her face carefully while she talks about being separated from her parents in turn.

She's finding this conversation difficult. He can see it, now. He's starting to learn that she does show her feelings on her face, just not so expressively as some people. It's all about looking her right in the eyes, he decides.

And anyway, staring at her eyes is hardly a hardship.

No. That's not the point. The point is, he has a new friend. A friend who has made him feel less lonely in telling stories of some of his more unpleasant life experiences. And a friend who really seems to have chosen his company when there are actually other people she could hang out with, here. She's not just following him round because she doesn't know anyone else, not like he used to fear at that first summit.

That's why he issues the invitation, on her last night in Arkadia.

"Do you play chess?"

"Chess?"

He takes it that's a no. Nevertheless, he perseveres. Perseverance is one of his better qualities, he likes to think, and he suddenly finds that it's quite important to him that Echo should witness his better qualities in action.

"Chess is a board game. Black and white pieces on black and white squares." He explains. "I thought you might like it because it's very tactical – and because having a good poker face helps."

"A poker face?"

"A figure of speech for – uh – when your face doesn't show what you're feeling. So you can keep your strategy a secret." He mutters, flustered, hoping he hasn't offended her. Telling someone you've decided you quite like that they have a deeply unexpressive face is probably a bit risky, he realises too late.

To his relief, Echo laughs. "Then that should suit me. I've spent twenty years being told by Nia and her minions that I'm not supposed to have feelings. I only ever managed to get as far as having them, but trying to hide them."

"You don't need to hide them in Arkadia. That's not what we're about."

"I know. Why do you think I volunteered for this trade delegation? I'm not only here to see you." She tells him, teasing. "It's nice to have a break from the pressure back home."

He nods. That was quite personal, wasn't it? He should probably say something encouraging and supportive. But he's sort of new to trying to support anyone who isn't Clarke.

Maybe some of the same approaches would work, he thinks. Clarke and Echo are not dissimilar in many ways. They're both outwardly confident, but can get anxious in new situations where they feel like people are depending on them. They're both loyal and smart and tactical. And most of all, he senses, they both have that habit of pushing their own feelings away for the sake of what they perceive as the greater good.

He swallows hard and tries his best. That's all he can ever do, on Earth – or in front of a slightly intimidating woman.

"I get that it must be difficult. Do you want to learn how to play chess for a while and take your mind off going home tomorrow?"

"That sounds great. Thanks."

They head back to his room and play chess. They chat, too, and laugh, and there's one point where he very nearly cries.

Echo is a promising chess player. She doesn't exactly win any games, this first evening – she's not some kind of prodigy. But she does say goodbye with a hug at the end of the evening, so he thinks that counts as a victory for both of them.

…...

There's a summit coming up in Polis, and Clarke wants Wells to go. She can't go herself because she is, of all things, pregnant, and Abby is insisting on keeping her close. Bellamy can't go, because he's refusing to leave Clarke's side. Abby can't go, because she keeps reminding everyone very loudly that she's a doctor, and also that she's going to be a grandmother.

Wells thinks this is all a bit of an overreaction. Clarke is perfectly healthy and only two months pregnant. She can still get about easily. But he loves Clarke – and Bellamy and Abby, and the future baby – so he puts up with their fussing.

He still doesn't want to go to Polis, though. He likes home, thank you very much. And if all these people think it's necessary to keep an eye on Clarke, he'd like to be here to help too.

Yes, he's aware that isn't his most logical argument. Yes, he's aware it's inherently contradictory to think everyone is worrying about Clarke too much yet also to worry himself. What of it? Pregnancy is said to make people irrational – future godfathers as well as the mother-to-be.

The point still stands. He doesn't want to go to Polis.

"Why can't Kane go?" He asks, petulant. He doesn't see why the future godfather of the baby should go out but the step-grandfather is allowed to stay home. He's much more necessary to Clarke's comfort and safety than Kane is, thank you very much.

"He is going. But I want you to go as well. We need someone from the younger generation – we're the ones who have really made this deal stick so far. People know you're close with me and Bellamy and that you were there all along. You can take Miller as well if you want to."

He shakes his head. Miller only just got reunited with his boyfriend, Bryan. Miller does not want to leave home for a week to talk about peace right now – that seems obvious.

He sighs loudly. He's going to end up going, isn't he? He doesn't want to let his people down, or let Clarke and Bellamy down most of all. He's loyal to them like that. He -

"All the clans are supposed to be there. Even Azgeda are sending a delegate – and last thing I checked, there's only one ambassador from Azgeda who really likes peaceful summits."

"Echo's going to be there?" He asks, too quick. Too enthusiastic and hurried and obviously keen.

Ah well. It can't be taken back now. And Clarke wouldn't have said that unless she already had a suspicion or two, would she?

"I guess so. I didn't ask after her by name, but who else is it going to be?"

He nods. That's good enough for him. A week hanging out with Echo, as well as doing his duty to his people. That sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

He supposes he ought to go pack his chessboard.

…...

It sucks having a crush on an Azgeda spy – or an Azgeda spy turned advocate for peace.

That's what Wells decides, as he packs his bags. It's the thought that's foremost in his mind through all the dusty drive to Polis. It's just so very tedious, to be this worked up about whether he's going to see her and whether Queen Nia will have changed her mind about peace since they last spoke. And it sucks, too, that he sees Echo so infrequently. A normal crush is not like this, he's pretty sure. A normal crush means smiling at someone around camp or saying hi to them every so often, not spending weeks at a time wondering whether he might meet his new friend again sooner or later.

It's silly that he likes her so much. He barely knows her. He only knows that she's beautiful and strong-willed and that she acts like she thinks he's someone worthwhile and useful and valuable.

In short, he seems to have landed himself in some hot water, here. And he was born in space, so he's not great at swimming.

He feels ill-equipped to deal with this crush to say the least.

…...

Wells doesn't rush to find Echo the second he arrives in Polis. He's a good ambassador like that. He makes a point of greeting the Commander and thanking her for hosting the summit first of all. Then he shakes hands with the delegates from Trikru, because that will always be a corner of the alliance which is particularly important, since the hundred landed where they did.

And then, to his relief, Kane suggests they split up and spend some time greeting their particular friends. He wants to catch up with Indra for a bit longer, and he's heard a rumour Wells is looking forward to seeing someone.

He doesn't hang around feeling embarrassed. He just gets on with scanning the crowd for a particular tall, lithe woman and a head of thick brunette hair.

He picks her out quickly enough, rushes over and hugs her eagerly.

But to his disappointment, she doesn't really hug him back. She pats him on the back once or twice, yes. But she doesn't truly get herself involved in an intense hug, not like she did when they were saying goodbye last month.

He pulls back, embarrassed. Has he totally misjudged this? Has he gone and grown a stupid crush on a fierce warrior who doesn't give two hoots about him?

Story of his life, that, isn't it?

No. That's not true. Clarke loves him as a friend. And he's convinced Echo values his friendship, too, even if she doesn't want a lot of intimate hugging.

That's why he gathers his courage and tries for a coherent sentence or two.

"Are you OK? I hoped you'd be happy to see me." That seems light and innocent enough for a warm friendship between two ambassadors, he thinks.

"I am. Yes. Hey." She says.

Well, now. That's not encouraging.

"Echo -"

"I'm just worried." She admits, before he can even finish asking what the problem is. He's proud of her, actually, for having a go at sharing her feelings.

"About?"

"About this summit. Sorry – it is great to see you. But I've got a lot on my mind. Queen Nia has decided she wants me to push for an expansion of Azgeda territory. We'll keep the peace as long as two valleys and three villages immediately to the south of our land are handed over to us."

"So she's trying to get her way with the threat of war?"

"Yes. And – and I don't want that. I don't want to stand up for that. I'm loyal to Azgeda – that's how Nia raised me. But loyalty to Azgeda doesn't mean taking Trikru and Podakru villages and forcing them to show allegiance to us just so we can expand our territory. That's not clan spirit."

"So maybe you should say that. You can present your Queen's deal but say that not every Azgeda warrior supports her. Are there others who think like you do?"

"I don't know. We don't talk treason right under her nose, so I've never asked anyone." She pauses a moment. "Maybe I should look into that when I get home."

"I'm not trying to encourage an ambassador from an allied clan to commit treason." He says urgently, wondering whether he's made a horrendous mistake.

"No. You're trying to encourage a friend to look for ways to solve her problem. That's what you said to me that first day – there's often another way."

He nods. She nods. They stand there, silent, simply letting their thoughts catch up with them for a moment.

"I guess I have to go tell the Commander I have an item for the agenda." Echo mutters, evidently unhappy with the idea but determined to get this right all the same. "Are you around for a drink later?"

"I'm staying all week."

She laughs, throws him a strained grin, and walks off towards Lexa with a stiff kind of resolve in her step.

…...

It's while they're drinking that night – a drink which turns into a full meal at the nearest tavern, somehow – that Wells is struck by a thought.

"How many times have we met now? Four? But it feels like I've known you all my life." He muses out loud. That's probably the strong berry wine, he fears. This stuff makes him a little too confident around Echo.

"But we've always met quite... intensely, haven't we? We've spent a lot of time together on the occasions we have met. And we've been doing stressful things together. I think that binds a friendship tighter." She snorts out a laugh. "Not that I would know, seeing as the Queen from Hell wants me to never make friends."

"Is it treason to talk about her like that?"

"Probably." Echo sighs. "I'm just sick of her. While I was a kid and I didn't know better I put up with it. I couldn't see a way out back then. But I had a lot of time to think while I was locked up in Mount Weather. And this alliance has shown me there is so much more to the world than Queen Nia trying to dominate the other clans."

"You mean you can see a way out?" He asks. That sounds like a nice idea, he thinks. He'd like his new friend with the lovely eyes to be free of this clan loyalty she wears like a burden.

Hmm. He might have drunk too much berry wine, if he's started admitting to himself how much he likes her eyes.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. I can't see a way out for me. It's more that I can see there are other ways to live. But it's frustrating because I don't think I can live like that."

"You could. You're great at all these peace talks."

"No. That's not what I mean. I mean I can't see a way out because she wouldn't let me go. And because where else is there, for a former Azgeda spy? My loyalty is my only strength. If I try to run away from Azgeda then I've got nothing. No other clan would give me refuge."

It's on the tip of his tongue to say that she'd be welcome at Arkadia. But he doesn't say it, because he realises it's not true. He'd welcome her, obviously, because he likes chatting with her over a meal and he thinks she's hot. But he realises that is not a good enough reason to convince anyone else to give her safe refuge. Clarke and Bellamy like her well enough for his sake, and he knows Abby and Kane are generally compassionate people. But even Lincoln has a tough enough time making a life for himself with Octavia, and he has always been a lover of peace. There's no way the general population of Arkadia would welcome a former spy.

Even if she was introduced as his girlfriend, it would be tough. Lincoln has proven that.

Not that there is any chance of her becoming his girlfriend any time soon, of course. He's being foolish. She's just a friend he catches up with at summits. Just political buddies. Platonic pals who sometimes share a drink or hug for too long or stare at each other's lips.

Or rather – he stares at her lips. He's not sure he's ever caught her looking at him with anything more than passing curiosity.

He tries to gather himself. He needs to reply, needs to reassure her that she's not completely out of choices. But he doesn't know how, doesn't -

"You see? There's no way out for me just now." She mutters, eyes fixed on her drink. "I'll be OK. I'll work on it. It's what you said about looking for another way. I'll go home and see if I can find anyone else who's unhappy."

"I'm sorry you're unhappy." He says, woefully inadequate.

"Don't worry about me. I'm used to it." She says, as if that isn't the most heartbreaking thing of all. "Tell me all about your news instead."

He takes that request and runs with it, sensing that she is desperately in need of a change of subject.

"Clarke and Bellamy are expecting a baby."

"Can't say I'm surprised. Send them my congratulations when you get home."

"I will. Everyone's very excited for them – but I'm worried they're smothering Clarke with their concern. Everyone seems to want to wrap her in cotton wool."

"I think that's normal when someone's expecting a baby. Particularly when the mother is the leader of their people."

"Abby's the Chancellor."

"And yet Clarke's really in charge." Echo points out, because things like that do not pass her by. "I think it's probably doing her good to take a break. But I guess she's frustrated too."

"Yeah. She's not good at sitting back and letting other people do the work. She's getting better at giving herself a break though."

"That's good."

A beat of silence. He likes that about Echo's company – she doesn't talk for the sake of hearing her own voice. They either share an interesting conversation, or they are quiet together. He finds that really quite peaceful, after all the trouble he has known.

But on this occasion, the lull in the conversation and the strong berry wine conspire against him.

"Do you want to have children one day?" He asks her on impulse.

She frowns hard. "I think that's an impossible question. It goes back to what we were saying about finding a way out of my situation. I can't even think of having kids, the way things are now. Nia would sink her claws into them the way she controlled my childhood, too. I can't even begin to answer that question while I'm stuck where I am now."

"Then I hope you do find a way out. I hope you get to start making your own choices in life before too long."

"I'm getting there slowly. I can choose to come on these diplomatic trips now – or at least, I can until she decides she's furious at me for not getting this new land she wants. I've chosen to make some new friends and spend time with you. It's a start."

He nods. He supposes it's progress, even if it's a small kind of progress. He can't imagine what it's like, to live an entire life manipulated by others, then slowly, slowly realise that's wrong and try to change it.

"What about you?" She asks suddenly.

"What?" He's not good at keeping track of the conversation when the drink goes to his head.

"Do you want kids?"

"Oh. I don't know. If the right person comes along, I guess. I think I want a family more than I want kids. I kind of have that with Clarke and Bellamy and the rest of the hundred – that sense of belonging. Maybe it's partly because I miss my parents. But I'd love to have a partner and be the best godfather to Clarke's kid."

"You're just a person who loves loving people." Echo summarises, smiling at him slightly. "You're generous with your kindness."

He's not quite sure that's true, actually. He thinks he loves the idea of being loved more than anything. He thinks he's craving a feeling of being genuinely and uniquely appreciated on a deeper level than Clarke's steady friendship.

He fears that's why he likes it, when Echo asks him for a drink. That's why he doesn't complain about the way she attaches herself to his side every time they're at a summit together.

That's why he sometimes permits himself to pretend she sees him as more than only a convenient and helpful friend.

…...

It's the third night of the summit when Echo invites him back to her room.

He's so damn excited he can scarcely think straight. This is really happening, isn't it? She's taking him home. He's going to make love with her and then spend the night in her bed and then they're going to have some kind of Romeo and Juliet star-crossed long-distance love affair whilst her Queen threatens war on his alliance.

OK. Well. He might be getting a bit ahead of himself. But she's taking him back to her bed.

He doesn't reach out for her hand as they walk. He's worried all the excitement might have made his palms clammy. He just walks at her side, close enough that their elbows brush sometimes.

Echo's invited him back to her bed.

They arrive. She opens the door. He steps inside, wonders whether it's time to try kissing her now, or whether they're going to -

"Have a seat. The board's ready for us." She says, waving at a table off to his left.

He turns to look at it. Oh. Oh. A chess board, set up ready for a game. Two carefully separate chairs, facing each other at a polite distance across the table.

Her bed isn't even in this room. She's got a damn suite, and this is clearly a sitting room.

He feels like the biggest fool in the world. Trust him to get his hopes up. Trust him to think she might have a crush on him, when she only wanted to play chess. He's pathetic, isn't he? Hopelessly needy. Bellamy was right, all those months ago, to point out that he is unremarkable and not worth noticing.

No. He doesn't need to spiral this badly. Bellamy is his friend, now, and wouldn't say anything so hurtful again. And Echo clearly likes his company enough to want to play chess with him, even if they're not jumping into bed right this second.

"Wells?" Echo prompts, concern in her voice.

"Yes. Sorry. Chess." He mutters before taking a seat.

"We don't have to play chess." She protests at once, a little too fast, as if worried she's got this wrong, somehow.

"No. I want to."

They enjoy a good couple of games, in the end. Wells tries to concentrate on playing, and on the idea that it might be a good sign Echo likes playing chess with him enough to have gone out and sourced a chess set from somewhere.

And at least this perfectly platonic sitting room means he doesn't have to sit there and look at the bed taunting him while they stay a careful foot apart.

…...

He arrives back at Arkadia – home, more or less, at least for now – in high spirits. His head is swimming with the excitement of a crush, the sort of warm dizziness that comes with liking someone and eagerly trying to figure out whether they like him in turn. He's pretty sure things are going well with Echo, all in all. She always looks happy to see him – he can read her well enough to see that now. They have just spent a lovely week together, and although he's disappointed she never invited him into her bed he thinks there is more good than bad here. They even did some business for the good of their people along the way. He likes the way they know each other well enough, now, to really share what's on their minds, and he felt privileged to help her decide how to present Nia's request to the Commander.

He's worried about her, too. He's worried that she's heading home without the territory expansion Nia wanted. Does that mean war is on the horizon? Does it mean Echo is in trouble?

In short, his mind is full of Echo. He's sparing maybe a little mental capacity to fret about Clarke's pregnancy, too.

And then his father greets him at the door of the rover.

His father. Thelonius Jaha, who supposedly died on the Ark when his people fell from the sky. Wells has to admit he hasn't missed him as much as he perhaps ought to have done. He was telling the truth, all those weeks ago, when he told Clarke and Bellamy that he always warmed to Clarke's parents more. And since leaving the Ark, he has come to see his father as a symbol of everything that was wrong and upsetting and frustrating about life in space.

But he's still his father.

"Wells! My son! It's good to see you!"

Wells allows himself to be hugged, a little bemused by this turn of events. He doesn't say it's good to see his father, because he doesn't think that's true. He thinks good is far too straightforward to do justice to this confusing tangle of emotions. He's feeling puzzled and a little deflated, more than anything – as well as somehow relieved.

"How are you here?"

"I found the City off Light. I crashed in the desert, and then I found my way. But enough of that – I hear you have a new girlfriend."

Wells frowns. This is all very strange. What the hell is the City of Light? And anyway, the father he remembers was not so blunt as this. He wouldn't have outright asked whether Wells had a new girlfriend. He spent years carefully referring to Clarke only as your good friend when Wells knows he was anything but subtle about the scale of his crush.

"I wouldn't say I have a girlfriend. I've been trying to make friends with people from the other clans. I'm enjoying diplomacy more than I expected."

"Yes. I hear you're quite essential to the coalition."

Wells frowns harder still. This conversation is all very odd, isn't it? It's stilted. It's not the tone he would expect between a long-separated father and son.

He tries to steer it back to rights. "I've been teaching one of my new friends to play chess. I remember how you taught me when I was younger."

"I taught you chess." His father says, and it's not clear whether it's a statement or a question.

"Yes. And Mum used to watch and heckle all your moves – do you remember that?"

"Your mother?"

Wells doesn't even answer that. There's something very wrong here, and he needs to find Clarke.

…...

He does find Clarke. The two of them pull together a sort of emergency council, with Bellamy, Kane, Abby, Miller and Raven. Wells puts forward his concerns – that his father isn't acting right, and that there seems to be something the matter with his memory.

"I put that down to the chronic stress of his journey through the desert." Abby says, frowning. "That kind of exhaustion and hardship can alter a person's behaviour."

"But he was acting like he didn't really remember my mum or my childhood." Wells counters.

"That is strange." Clarke agrees. "Think about it, Mum – Thelonius used to be such a family man. I know he often put his work first, but he wouldn't just forget Wells' childhood."

"He has been through a lot." Abby says, but she seems less sure of herself, now.

"We might as well be cautious." Miller suggests, simply but firmly. "We could confiscate these chips just until we've checked everything out."

"I'll take a look at the chips." Raven contributes at once.

"Maybe a brain scan wouldn't hurt." Abby muses. "I'll ask Dr Jones whether we can get that done at Mount Weather."

Meanwhile, Bellamy and Kane are in silent conversation. Wells turns to look at them, sees Kane raise his brows and Bellamy give a firm nod.

It's Kane who speaks up.

"I realise what I'm about to say might be controversial, but if we think Thelonius is seriously unwell or has somehow been changed then he might constitute a threat to security. Perhaps we should detain him until we have some idea what's going on."

Wells is honestly relieved at that, rather than angry. "He's not himself. Please – you guys are the experts on security. If you think he should be locked up then do it. Just be kind to him." Even if the man who met him at the gate didn't feel like his father, he still looked the part.

"We can give him a suite of rooms and make him comfortable. He can still have visitors and entertainment." Bellamy suggests, frowning. Wells knows that must be hard for him – he knows all about watching someone he loves be shut up inside their home.

"We need to figure this out quickly. We can't keep him shut up forever." Wells concludes.

That is met with agreement all round.

…...

Wells has quite a lot on his plate, in the week that follows. He spends a lot of time with his father, trying to figure out what on Earth is wrong with him, listening to him talk and talk about this City of Light. He spends a lot of time with Raven and Abby, who have found one of the chips lodged in his brain stem and think that is causing this strange phenomenon.

And in between that, he gets on with his actual day jobs of supporting the leaders around here and working with the agriculture team. He is something of a legend at botany, after all.

He's enjoying a good-natured debate with Monty about crop rotations when it happens. When his complicated week grows still more complicated.

"It's Echo!" Miller announces, breathless, running over.

Wells frowns. What is Echo? Is she hurt? Has something happened to her?

"She's here." Miller continues, in short, flustered snatches. "Emergency meeting. She says we're in danger."

Wells doesn't wait to be told twice. He sets out towards the Chancellor's office at a run. He's aware he's probably getting some funny looks, but this sounds urgent. It sounds like his people are under threat from Queen Nia, most likely.

It also sounds like Echo might be in need of a hug.

He arrives at the office, falls through the door. Echo is standing in one corner of the room, and she's in a bad way. She's covered in scrapes and bruises – but of course, she is still determinedly standing upright.

He dashes over to hug her. He embraces her as gently as he can, mindful of her wounds.

She's not interested in gentleness, it seems. She hugs him back fiercely, clutching him tight.

At length, she pulls back. Wells releases her, takes a look around the room. All the usual suspects are here – the leaders and generals of Arkadia.

"What's going on?" He asks.

"It's complicated and urgent." Echo says simply. "I'm supposed to tell you that Nia cast me out and that Azgeda are attacking Arkadia at dawn tomorrow. Then you're supposed to act predictably, defending this place and summoning allies from the surrounding area to help you." She swallows loudly. "But that's all a bluff. Nia doesn't expect to take Arkadia. She'd like to bloody your noses but she's not so bothered about this land. Her real target is the land she wanted just south of her current border. While you and Trikru and maybe some of the rest of your allies are distracted rushing to defend Arkadia, she'll attack there by night, before dawn. She'll sweep in and find it undefended."

"Distract us by attacking Arkadia, sweep in behind to take the land she wants easily." Wells summarises.

"Yes. Exactly."

"Why should we believe you?" Raven is the first to ask the question. "You're Azgeda, aren't you? A spy? I know you think she's your friend, Wells, but -"

"She is my friend. And she's telling the truth." He says at once. "Why would she even try to tell us about the bluff if she's not actually trying to help us?"

"I'm telling the truth." Echo insists, calm and confident. Wells takes a risk and reaches out to squeeze her hand.

She squeezes right back, then keeps holding on tight.

"I'm only worried she might have fed me that story deliberately." Echo continues. "She might have realised I would be tempted to defect for real and lied to me. But it wasn't suspiciously easy to find out her plan – I was listening in on her war chiefs from inside a wardrobe on the floor above."

Wells would laugh if it weren't so serious. As it is, he just squeezes her hand once more. That sounds like his Echo, finding a strategy to fix her problem, come hell or high water.

"It makes sense." Clarke says, thoughtful. "Attacking us is the perfect distraction. We initiated this alliance, and a lot of the grounder clans feel grateful for their freedom from Mount Weather. They would flock to help us. And keeping us busy is a good move because we have guns."

Bellamy is nodding. He's frowning, but nodding with it. Kane looks thoughtful, and Abby only looks phenomenally stressed.

"What now?" Clarke asks.

Wells isn't sure who she's asking. But it's Echo who speaks up.

"Pretend you know nothing. Defend Arkadia, send messages to your allies. You need to make it look like the bluff is working. But send a small hit squad to the land Nia really wants. She's proud – she'll be there herself to watch her warriors expand her territory. Send snipers and get one of them to take her out. I've been asking some difficult questions at court recently and I think if you take her out you'll find Azgeda suddenly much more inclined to peace."

"This is risky." Bellamy points out. "We're building a whole plan on the back of one defecting spy. And we're risking everything on a sniper being able to take out Nia, and that being enough to swing Azgeda away from the warpath."

"It'll work." Wells says at once. "If Echo says it'll work, it'll work."

He's played enough chess with her recently to be sure of that. Enough to be sure of her strategic mind, but also enough to be sure of her good heart.

…...

Things move quickly after that – too quickly for Wells' liking. He wishes he could stay here and watch over his father, or support Clarke as she coordinates their strategy. He wishes he could go with Echo, who is to be part of the hit squad driving north, along with Bellamy and Sargent Lovejoy.

But instead he's set to drive round Trikru territory raising an army. Of course he is – that's because he's become something of a diplomat in recent times.

He makes time to say his goodbyes before he leaves. A goodbye to his father, who doesn't seem to understand that anything serious is happening. A goodbye to Clarke who reassures him all will be well, to Miller who is ready to take charge of defending the southern side of Arkadia, to Bellamy who is putting on his best cocky smirk and trying to pretend he is confident of making this high-stakes shot.

He makes time to say goodbye to Echo, too.

He pulls her in for a hug, wonders whether he dares to kiss her on the cheek, perhaps. It's a big day. Cheek kisses are allowed on big days, aren't they?

"Thanks for trusting me." She mutters, visibly uncomfortable, as they separate after a long embrace. "I was so worried about that on the way here. I – I didn't know whether you'd believe me even if I did tell the truth. I was almost ready to stick to Nia's lie just out of insecurity." She admits, eyes averted, voice uncharacteristically shaky.

He reaches out for her, rests a hand just under her chin and steers her gaze back to meet his. "I get that. I know this is hard – I know you've been worrying about not having a way out. But you have one now, don't you? We're going to pull this off and then you'll be the woman who saved these three villages." He swallows hard. "I'm only sorry you had to make such a pressured decision to end up here. I'm sorry it came to this."

She tries to put on a smile. "Don't be. You're right. It'll work. This plan will work." She sucks in a loud breath. "Just – thank you. Thank you for showing me the way out."

His hand is still on her face. He wonders whether he ought to move it. He doesn't want to move it, but he figures it might be more socially acceptable.

Screw it. She's about to drive into danger and he wants to touch her face, thank you very much.

"Thank you for showing me I can be more than Clarke's sidekick." He offers in turn.

Her smile looks more genuine, now. She's grinning at him a little, and those expressive eyes look almost optimistic. He hopes she's looking forward to living a life away from Nia's cruelty. He hopes that, maybe, she might visit Arkadia even more often when there is no tyrant to control her every movement. He hopes -

"Just kiss already. We need to get going." Bellamy grumbles affectionately, walking past.

Wells swallows. Silly of Bellamy to suggest that. They're just standing here staring at each other, his hand on her face, like good platonic pals, thank you very much.

Oh. Hang on. Maybe he was wrong, there. Because Echo seems to be kissing him, gentler than he was expecting, slow and careful and almost tentative.

No. That's not what he wants from this brave woman. He kisses her back, firmer, fiercer. He slips his hand from her cheek to tangle in her hair instead and pulls her close. And she's rising to his challenge, now, kissing him more urgently, pressing right up against him.

It's not until he hears laughter and good-natured cheering in the background that he pulls away.

"Sorry." Echo murmurs, looking totally unapologetic. "But Bellamy's my commanding officer for the next twelve hours, and he did order us to kiss."

Wells laughs. "Yeah. I might have to buy him a drink for that when you get home."

"I should go."

"I know you should go. I should too."

He doesn't go, though. He reaches in for another kiss, lighter and less involved than the first one. Just a little passing kiss to check he hasn't totally imagined all this.

"I'm leaving now." Echo says, a little teasing. Still not quite turning to go.

"So am I."

One more kiss. He loves seeing her lighthearted like this. She's often shown him little flashes of humour before now, but it looks like there might be more of that side of her on show, once she lives a more peaceful life.

He swallows hard. They really do need to go and get on with the task at hand.

"Travel safe and shoot straight. I want you to get back here in one piece." He tells her firmly.

"You too. Drive safe. I'll see you later."

One more kiss, and she's gone.

…...

It's an odd business, driving round villages to raise an army he hopes will not be needed. And it's an even odder business because his mind is so firmly fixed on other things. Concern for his father. Worry for Echo, as well as fizzy excitement that they seem to have got together at last.

He makes the best of it. He does his job, sends troops towards Arkadia.

And then, by the time he gets home, it's all over. By the time he gets back, the hit squad have already assassinated Nia, and the Azgeda army marching to Arkadia has withdrawn in disarray.

…...

He is waiting in the hangar bay when Echo gets back. He knows her team are all safe, because he's been in contact over the radio. But there's a difference between knowing she's safe and feeling that she's safe, having her warm and solid and alive in his arms.

It's a funny business, he thinks. Three months ago he didn't know this woman even existed. He let her out of a cage, and told her a little about his worldview, and thought nothing of it.

And somehow that was enough to end them up here. A flap of a butterfly's wings, and the whole world changes.

"What now?" He asks her, when they have hugged and kissed a little, and Lovejoy and Bellamy have cheered a lot.

She frowns, thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't know whether I should move back to Azgeda now Nia is gone. Roan will take the throne and he's decent. I'm not sure I'd be welcome to stay here even after -"

"I didn't mean that. I didn't mean what next. I meant what now." He clarifies. "We can figure out where we're going to live later. But what do you want right this second? Do you want something to eat or drink? Do you want to meet more of my friends? Do you want to go back to my place for a game of chess or – or something else?" He manages to get the words out at last.

"Your place for something else sounds perfect." She says, her lips curving into an amused smile.

He grins, and takes her hand, and leads the way.

…...

He wakes up the next morning with a lot of brunette hair tickling his face. That ought to be annoying, perhaps, but in this moment he rather likes it. The ticklishness makes everything feel more real, somehow. It's a very physical reminder that he and Echo truly do seem to be together, in the broad light of day.

Maybe that's what gives him the confidence to suggest it, as she yawns and blinks herself awake.

"We should live in Polis." He says simply.

She frowns at him. "Good morning to you too. Yes, I slept well. Yes, I'd love to talk about the future."

He grins, a little sheepish. "Sorry. I'm just excited. I'm new to feeling like I have a future worth talking about."

"Me too." She hugs him slightly tighter. "So – Polis? Why Polis?"

"You could represent Azgeda in the coalition. You'd still feel loyal to Azgeda but without having to face the place you were so unhappy all the time. You could work to make Azgeda better by working for it to have a more peaceful foreign policy. And I guess – I'm my father's son. I love politics more than I ever realised before. I think I like it better on the ground because it's more about choosing what to share than what to ration. So I'd like to live in Polis and keep working with the other ambassadors."

She nods, gives a sleepy yawn. "You're right. There's always a middle way. Not Arkadia or Azgeda but Polis."

He smiles sadly at that. There isn't always a middle way – or at least not one that can be found under the circumstances. He doesn't want to beat himself up for the violence he committed back at the dropship, and he doesn't want Echo to beat herself up for her previous life, either. But he's glad they've found a middle way together, now.

"I don't want to move right away." He murmurs now. "I want to stay here until Raven and Abby have decided what to do about my father."

"And do you want to stay here until Clarke has the baby?"

He thinks about that for a moment. "No. Clarke and I will always be family. We're still family even though we were separated all that time while she was in solitary and she was furious with me. But I don't need to look over her shoulder every five seconds. She has plenty of other people taking care of her these days – and she's getting better at taking care of herself. I think it's time for me to put us first. For me to do what's right for myself and my relationship with you."

"Yeah. That's how I feel, too. Time to learn there's nothing selfish about taking care of ourselves and each other."

He nods. He grins up at the ceiling, blissfully happy for the first time in as long as he can remember.

And then he reaches in for a lingering kiss. A kiss which grows heated, which promises other good things to come.

They have time to start the morning like this, in a world at peace.

a/n Thanks for reading!