So if you don't know what to make of this,
Then we will not relate.
- The Head and the Heart
1,342 days after, Eden
Nell was almost three by the time Madi had a full grasp on English. If Clarke thought she talked a lot before, it was nothing compared to now. Madi asked her to tell and retell stories of her friends and would then act them out for Nell, who always clapped in delight. Everything ranging from her life on the Ark to the dropship to ALIE - Madi wanted to know it all.
Her enthusiasm for Clarke's storytelling slowly leaked into Nell, who started demanding a story before bed every night. Their love for her stories was so strong, Clarke began illustrating them.
She started with Octavia, since that was Madi's favorite. She drew multiple versions of the young warrior: her holding one of Lincoln's lilies, her riding her horse, her with the war paint as she prepared for the conclave.
Clarke held nothing back. Life was too short to sugar coat everything, and she wanted her girls to grow up strong and resilient in a world that would try to destroy them every day.
She struggled with that thought. The parasite of loneliness in her chest grew stronger each day she didn't receive an answer on her radio, turned to call for a phantom Monty to come look at a new plant she'd discovered, or navigated parenting two girls with no outside guidance. She yearned for contact with the people she loved, but she couldn't ignore the peace she had found without them.
She tried to ignore the pinprick of when they come back, all your problems will too at the base of her mind.
Clarke should have seen it coming then, when it all reached a boiling point.
...
That night, she chose to tell the tale of Roan and the Ice Queen. To prepare for the story, she'd drawn the Azgedan prince himself, along with his mother, and, of course, Lexa.
"Once upon a time-"
"Claaarke, we know it's real. You don't have to say that every time," Madi whined from her bed. Clarke fixed her with a steely gaze until she mumbled a small, "sorry." Nell drug a blanket up to her chin, her curly blonde ringlets splayed out on her pillow. They'd recently moved another small bed into their cabin for her. It made the space more cramped, but they couldn't imagine it any differently.
Clarke started again, "Once upon a time, there lived an evil queen. She ruled the northern lands, where the mountains made the air cold and the ground slick with white snow. The rest of the clans knew her as the Ice Queen and her clan as Azgeda," she paused to hold up the drawing of Nia, then continued, "She had a son. His name was Roan and he was not evil like his mother. He was just and brave."
She stared at her depiction of her friend and remembered his icy demeanor, carved no doubt from decades of hard lessons and brutal training. She'd never said goodbye or even gave him a proper funeral during the end of the world. She hoped that this, telling his story, gave his memory peace. May we meet again, old friend. She flipped the page around to show her two apt listeners.
"Because he wasn't like her, the Ice Queen banished prince Roan and he was tossed from his home to live alone," Nell gasped quietly, brown eyes wide. Clarke smiled, "It was around that time that rumors began to spread across the land. Rumors of a person who claimed they were the commander of death itself-"
" Wanheda," whispered Madi. Clarke nodded.
"Whoever killed Wanheda would become the commander of death. Roan knew the Ice Queen would want her, so he set off in search of this legend. He knew that if he captured Wanheda, his mother would welcome him back into Azgeda with open arms," Clarke paused for dramatic effect, and swore both girls leaned in a little closer. She lowered her voice conspirationally, "But there was another leader, Lexa kom Trikru, who wanted Wanheda alive."
"Why?"
"Because," Clarke swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to speak, "because Lexa loved the woman known as Wanheda very much. She didn't want her to get hurt." She pulled out the final drawing, the one of Lexa, and let herself feel the loss. "Lexa knew Roan was a good man. She convinced him to bring her Wanheda. So he did." Her voice was so soft now, and the fire from the candle burned low. Nell's eyes drooped as she tried to keep them open.
"Did they live happily ever after?" Madi yawned and Clarke got up to tuck her in. She pressed her lips to her forehead.
"We'll finish the story tomorrow. Sleep well, my natblida." She kissed Nell too and backed slowly toward the door so as not to disturb either one.
She made her way to the fire pit and sat down on one of the logs. She picked up the radio she'd left there earlier in the day.
"I know this is useless and that both of these people are dead," she began, taking a shuddering breath and staring up at the stars, "but I'm going to say it anyway."
Clarke cleared her throat, but couldn't stop her voice from coming out scratchy, "Roan, I'm sorry I never said goodbye. I'm sorry you died in a fight that didn't even matter at the end of it. I told Madi and Nell about you tonight," she sniffed, "I told them that you were good. Despite it all, you were fair. And I'm sorry." She let go of the call button and felt something wet roll down her cheek.
"I also told them about you, Lexa," her voice was so small now, trying to hold back the flood of emotions from tearing through her. "Not much. I- I couldn't. But I told them you loved me." She choked back another sob. "You shouldn't have died like that - a fluke. A bullet meant for me. And I'm so sorry," she trailed off.
"I found forgiveness in pieces. It started when I found the valley- before that, things were...bad. Worse than bad. And I thought I deserved that. Maybe I did, but it's different now. Madi changed that. Having Nell changed everything."
She let go of the button and listened to the forest surrounding her home before pressing it once more.
"I'm not sure who I'll be when everyone comes home. I can't help thinking we'll go back to what we were, that people will start dying again. I'm not that person anymore, I can't be. I have two daughters now who need me and who I need to be better than what I was. Sometimes…"
She stopped, her throat tight, then whispered, "sometimes I don't want this to end. Sometimes I don't want everyone to come back." A broken noise escaped her throat and echoed in the silence of the camp. She released the radio, letting it fall to the bed of grass at her feet.
Clarke followed it and lay on her back, closing her eyes. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to remember what it felt like to be held. She stayed in that position, awake, until the dusk broke through the trees. When it did, she rubbed her eyes and stood up. Then, she walked back toward her daughters, toward her life.
1,343 days after, The Ring
Bellamy needed to punch something. It just so happened Murphy was there - with an unfortunately timed joke - for the picking.
"Bellamy, stop!" He heard Monty's voice in the distance, as if he were underwater. He heard others run in, shouting.
"Hey! Hey! It's just Murphy!" He felt a hand on his shoulder and he pushed it away, pulling his arm back to launch another blow to Murphy's face. Before he could release it, his back hit the ground and he felt sharp pressure to his jugular. Echo sat on his chest, glaring at him as she held a knife to his throat. He caught his breath, panting as he returned her glare. He slowly raised his hands in surrender.
Echo loosened her knife and stood up, holding out a hand. He ignored it, propping himself up on his elbows. "His silver tongue is his strongest weapon, at best. Better to take this out on someone who can fight back."
"Jeez, thanks for the compliment," groaned Murphy from his spot on the floor. Emori moved to help him to his feet, her face carefully schooled to hide her laughter.
"What's this about, Bellamy?" said Echo, pointedly ignoring Murphy.
"Nothing." She quirked an eyebrow. He knew she didn't believe him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He stood up and raised his fists. "Let's go. No weapons."
Echo narrowed her eyes, then threw her knife to the side. It clanged against the floor. They began to circle each other, stances defensive.
"You can't hide your feelings, Bellamy." He scoffed.
"You're one to talk, spy." Her face remained neutral, revealing nothing. It infuriated him.
"Clarke would want you to be happy." He snapped, rushing forward and grabbing for her arms. She side-stepped him easily and hooked her arm around his neck. He gripped her and ducked forward, slamming her into the floor. Before he could pin her, she used the momentum of her legs to jump to her feet.
"You don't talk about her," he growled. Echo smirked.
"Why not? She's clearly content down there without you." Bellamy saw white as he struck forward, blindly swinging. He felt pain erupt near his collar bone before the world went dark.
…
When he came to, he was in his bed. It took a second for the pain to hit him. He groaned.
"Sorry." Echo sat in a chair a few feet from his mattress, studying him with her calculating eyes. She wasn't all sharp edges and revenge though - and Bellamy was pretty sure he was the only person who saw softness behind the façade. Even now, he could tell that she meant her apology.
"Don't worry about it."
"You can talk to me, you know."
"Can I?" his words came out harsher than he meant them to. "You've betrayed me more times than I can count. You murdered Gina. You tried to kill my sister, my friends." Echo shrugged and Bellamy ground his teeth.
"I was loyal to Azgeda then. Now I am loyal to you." He froze, considering her words.
"To me?"
"You saved my life," she did not shift her eyes. "For that, I owe you." He wanted to hate her. He wanted to continue to barely acknowledge her presence until he reached the ground, then forget about her. But...he understood her. Echo was loyal. She reminded him of another person he knew, a girl who did everything for the people she loved.
He must've been staring at her too intensely, or had shifted closer to her, or seemed more open, or something, because the next thing he knew, Echo's lips were on his.
The kiss lasted less than three seconds once she realized he wasn't responding. She stood, avoiding his gaze.
"I'm in love with Clarke," he said softly. She looked at him once more, tilting her chin down in acknowledgement, and left the room.
Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, trying not to think of what had just happened. His hand stopped mid swipe as it dawned on him.
I'm in love with Clarke.
…
"You have to get the radio working," he practically begged.
"You know I can't." Raven said, firm. They were in Comms, waiting for Clarke's next call.
"Raven-"
"Go float yourself, Bellamy. I've tried a thousand different things, I don't know what you want me to say." Something clicked into place in his brain.
"Float yourself!" Raven looked alarmed.
"I know things are rough right now but I hope you know I didn't mean-"
"No, Raven, float yourself," he gripped her shoulders and stared at her. "Shooting stars! Listen, Clarke just needs to believe I'm… we're alive. So we send a message." Her eyebrows raised in understanding.
"The last time Clarke saw shooting stars come out of the Ark, it was because hundreds of people were floated to save oxygen."
"And?"
"And she'll think one of us is dead, idiot." Bellamy considered that for a moment.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"Isn't there another way we can send a signal?" Raven paced in front of the control panels, thinking.
"We could make missiles," a voice said from the doorway. Monty was leaning against the frame, arms crossed. Raven shook her head.
"What, so we can destroy Clarke and the girls? Finish the job?" Monty rolled his eyes impatiently.
"Missile as in the shape, not the weapon. We can make them small enough to burn up in the atmosphere before landing, but big enough to cause a spectacle, like a flare. We use some scrap metal, add fuel, and Bob's your uncle." Bellamy looked between Raven and Monty as they battled silently. Raven sighed angrily.
"That sounds solid to me," Bellamy spoke cautiously, "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that we already don't have enough fuel to get to the ground, let alone power additional metal messenger pigeons."
"So?"
"Bellamy, we need every drop of that fuel!"
"You just said we don't have enough to get to the ground anyway!"
"Yes, but-"
"Bellamy's right," said Monty, moving further into the room. "There isn't enough to get to the ground. With or without those flares, we'll still be stuck up here. At least with this, Clarke can have hope." They both looked to Raven, who still appeared unconvinced.
"She saved our life," said Bellamy. He couldn't find it in himself to feel an ounce of guilt as she glared at him.
"Fine. Let's do this."
…
Outside the room, John Murphy sat on the ground, listening. In his mind, he pictured all of them with gray hair, huddled around the dinner table eating another version of algae. He shuddered. That cannot happen.
What was the point of letting Clarke know they were alive when they wouldn't ever be able to return to Earth anyway?
1,825 days after, The Ring
"John's gonna open the airlock," Emori panted, leaning against one of the walls of the common room. When nobody moved, she yelled, "Are you deaf? He's gonna float things for Clarke to see!"
"But why would he do that?" Harper asked the question they'd all been thinking. Emori let out a frustrated growl, clutching her hair.
"Because he doesn't want us to have to waste fuel on the flares! She's gonna think we're dead!" Bellamy was already gone, sprinting across the Ring. He skidded around a corner in time to see Murphy push the release button to the airlock.
"Murphy, no!" But it was too late. Bellamy's heart plummeted as the airlock opened, releasing the contents to the void.
"You idiot!" yelled Raven, who'd ran from Comms. "We already launched the flares."
"Because of you, she's going to think we're dead."
"Because of you, we're never getting to the ground!" yelled Murphy. "Do you even know what today is? Year five, Bellamy!"
"Ground to Ark, come in," Clarke's voice emitted from the speakers in Raven's office and echoed down the hallway to where they stood. "Ground to Ark, come in!" She sounded panicked. "Bellamy, come in!" He was gonna kill Murphy.
The man in question flinched, backing up.
"Wait, look!" Monty was at the viewing window, grinning. Bellamy watched as green light lit up Earth's atmosphere. "Bob's your uncle."
"I hate it when you say that," muttered Raven, though there was no contempt in her voice. The green faded to black and the Earth looked just as lifeless.
All they could do now was wait.
1,825 days after, Eden
Today marked five years since Praimfaya. All day, Clarke, Nell, and Madi searched the sky for signs of a rocket. Before they knew it, the sun was setting and their necks were sore. But the girls were too excited to sleep, so Clarke declared that night a slumber party with the stars. They moved their blankets and pillows near the lake, where the trees wouldn't block their view.
"Mom, look! Shooting stars!" Nell pointed to the darkening sky and Clarke looked up. Sure enough, several meteors scattered into the atmosphere. Something about how they moved slowly, taking their time to erupt, tickled the back of her brain.
"It didn't work. They didn't see the flares." Raven spoke from behind her, staring at the sky. Clarke jumped and moved toward Nell.
"Mom? What is it?"
"'It's not a meteor shower, it's a funeral,'" Clarke muttered, taking in the younger version of her friend. Dropship Raven nodded solemnly. Her heart dropped to her stomach, "Oh my go- no." She scrambled for the radio.
"Ground to Ark, come in," she waited. "Ground to Ark, come in!"
"What's happening?" Madi put a hand on her shoulder.
"Bellamy! Come in!" Clarke yelled, frantic. Radio silence.
"You're scaring me," said Nell and Clarke turned to her, eyes wide with tears.
"He's- I'm-" She couldn't get the words out, instead opening her arms to both girls. Both curled into her sides, gripping her as sobs wracked her body. There's still hope that he's alive, a voice soothed her, if anything, this proves that they made it.
Then, the sky lit up green. The three broke apart and looked up as two more green flares lit up before the inky darkness painted the horizon once more.
Clarke's mouth hung open as her mind tried to catch up with itself. The funeral and the flares couldn't be a coincidence. Someone was trying to send a message. The flares were green. Monty.
A smile split across Clarke's face.
"They're alive!" She said, then louder, "They're alive!" She laughed and hugged a very confused Madi and Nell back to her. They giggled at the rapid kisses she gave them across their foreheads. Another realization hit her: They know I'm alive. They can hear me.
Without looking, she let go of the girls and felt for the radio, still gazing at the sky. In her excitement, she heard a clatter and a splash. Clarke froze.
"Was that…" Madi asked hesitantly. Nell stepped up to the edge of the dark lake and pouted.
"I can't see! It's too dark outside."
First thing in the morning, the girls searched the lake. It was Clarke who found it, half buried in the sand. Water poured out from every crevice. She tried pushing buttons, turning the knobs, listening for the familiar static. There was nothing.
The radio was dead.
