a/n Hello! Here's a chapter! Thanks to everyone who's left lovely comments and thanks to Stormkpr for being awesome! Happy reading!
Content note: reference to suicide
Bellamy has scarcely been gone thirty hours, but already Clarke is starting to build a new routine for the new situation. It's like that on the ground – adapt fast, or suffer the consequences. So now that her closest colleague is not physically at her side, they are figuring out new ways of working together.
She starts the morning with a shower, and with the shampoo Bellamy gave her as a going-away gift. At the time she was pretty hurt by that, she seems to remember – the idea he was planning to leave her with toiletries rather than a proper goodbye. But she's made her peace with it quickly, deciding that fragranced shampoo is a welcome luxury on the ground and that it was kind of sweet of Bellamy to get it for her. She likes the domesticity of it, too. Shampoo is a thing you buy for someone you're pretty close to, she thinks.
Showered and dressed, she reaches for the radio to wish Bellamy a good morning. They developed a sort of pattern yesterday where they would check in very briefly several times a day, and she wants them to keep it up. It makes him feel closer, somehow, to be hearing from him sporadically throughout the day. And there's more to it than that, too. She likes the implications of them being in constant contact. She's watched her fair share of old Earth movies, and she knows that teenaged couples in romantic comedies used to send a hell of a lot of instant messages. This feels a bit like that, she thinks – only adapted for the end of the world.
"Bellamy? You awake?"
"I am now." He answers, evidently trying to tease her. She flushes a little, wonders what it would be like to have this conversation side-by-side in bed.
No. Head in the game, Clarke.
"Sorry. Were you still sleeping? I'll call later tomorrow."
"No, it's fine. I was up at dawn. Just joking around."
"Don't joke about that. You know I worry about whether you've slept enough and whether you're safe to drive." She's aware that she sounds peevish, but she really does worry about him.
"I promise I'm doing OK. I'm already up and driving. Tell me how your day is looking? You're taking nightblood to Azgeda, right?"
"Yeah. But I've got something else to do first." She swallows, wonders how to go about explaining the latest addition to her schedule. "I've got to give Jasper his nightblood shot. And a few of the others – Bree, Riley, that group."
There's a heavy pause. Clarke finds that she is picturing the thoughtful frown she knows must be on Bellamy's face, right now.
Then he speaks. "So they choose life?"
"They choose life." She confirms. "I thought it would take Jasper longer than this to... adjust to the new plan. But they all say they're with us. There's about twenty of them, and then the whole of Arkadia will be done." She very carefully avoids saying all Skaikru, because she knows that Octavia has not had her serum yet.
"That's really good news, Clarke. That's something happy to start your day, for a change."
She considers it for a moment. Yes, of course, the news that a group of her friends and acquaintances have chosen to survive the end of the world alongside her is good news indeed. There has been too much death, and she understands better than anyone the toll this planet can take on the mind but she remains convinced that living is the best option.
But she's not sure it's going to be a happy start to the day.
"I think it might still be difficult. Deciding to live doesn't mean they're suddenly healed. And a situation like that – a big group talking about maybe choosing to die together? That's all kinds of screwed up."
"I know." He agrees. "Just trying to help you see the good in the world."
She smiles despite herself. "Thanks, Bellamy."
"It's what I do."
She gives a reluctant laugh. "You're right. Really – I know you were half teasing there, but it's true."
"I miss you too, Princess." He says, and she can virtually hear him roll his eyes at her. He only ever does use that nickname when he's affectionately exasperated, these days.
Another laugh, more genuinely joyful this time. "Go on. Let me get on with my day. I'll call you if I'm bored on the drive to Azgeda."
"I'll call you if I'm bored on the drive to nowhere." He echoes lightly.
With a couple of parting words, he is gone, and she is left to pull on her boots and make her way to breakfast.
…...
Clarke is a brave woman. She doesn't describe herself in those terms out of conceit or arrogance, but because there's really quite a lot of evidence that it's the truth. She's made a habit of putting herself in danger for the sake of the people she cares about.
But right now, she's trying not to shake with nerves at the thought of giving a simple injection.
The thing is, it's not such a simple injection after all. Sure, it will physically be much like every other jab she has ever given. But there's a lot of emotions tangled with politics going on here, as she prepares to give Jasper his nightblood serum.
She's not sure whether his suggestion that the young people might prefer to have a party for the end of days was a political protest or a mass epidemic of depression. She supposes that the honest answer is probably a bit of both – emotional ill-health and important decisions sadly go hand-in-hand all too often on the ground. But naturally she's pleased they have decided not to press ahead with it after all. She wonders why they changed their minds, just as much as she wonders why they thought dying together was a good idea in the first place.
Maybe she ought to ask.
She feels deeply guilty for a moment. She's not been a good friend to Jasper or any of the like-minded people she will give serum to this morning. And that hurts her, deep in her belly, because she is truly passionate about protecting her people. She hates to think that she's let them down, allowed them to spiral into desperation without doing anything to stop it.
Her hand creeps closer to the radio in her pocket. Bellamy would know what to say to her right now, she thinks. He'd say something about how you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, or he'd remind her that she's had a lot on her plate and she shouldn't consider herself personally responsible for everything.
Yes. That's done it. Turns out she doesn't even need to call him – they've grown so close in recent days that she can still feel reassured at the mere thought of hearing his affirming words.
She gathers her courage and heads to medical. Bravery is not the absence of fear but overcoming it, she reminds herself as she walks.
To her surprise, Jasper is already there. She didn't see that coming, she thinks, as she grabs a dose of serum and approaches him.
He greets her cheerfully enough. She wonders how to approach this conversation. She's pretty sure that diving straight in with impertinent questions about his wellbeing and motivations is not a good approach.
She gets to work wiping his arm with an antiseptic wipe, prepares to give the serum. The quietness between them feels solemn, but not exactly strained. She can do this, she decides.
"That foam bit was funny." She says quietly.
He jerks his head towards her, shocked. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Didn't really see it at the time – I was having a stressful day, you know? But thank you for reminding me it's OK to have fun once in a while."
He frowns at her. "You don't look like you're having much fun."
"No." She acknowledges. "But I will be. Just as soon as we all survive the death wave and get on with living again."
"You think it will really be like that?"
"Yeah. I'm going to make it be like that."
Jasper laughs, a little hysterical. "I see how it is. It's not enough to order us around – now you're trying to order the universe around."
She stiffens, bites her lip. That didn't go to plan. "Jasper -"
"I know. I know – this is what you do. And I for one am grateful I don't have to. So are you going to turn my blood black now or what?"
She nods, reaches for the needle. "This will sting a little."
"What's new? I should be used to the pain by now."
She wonders what to say to that. He's got a point – there's been a lot of pain on Earth. But there are good things, too. Beautiful sunsets, firm friendships. Found families. She thinks of Monty's laugh and Raven's tenacity and Bellamy's warmth, most of all.
She pricks at his skin with the needle, delivers the serum.
"There's good alongside the pain." She tells him firmly.
"Yeah. I know. That's why I'm here."
She nods. What can she add to that?
"Thanks, Clarke. Black blood's pretty badass, right? Shall I send the next one in?"
She nods, strong, almost proud. That's one step further on her mission to leave behind the demons of Mount Weather once and for all. And it's one step closer to welcoming Jasper back into her assortment of friends and family.
…...
Bellamy's getting bored of worrying.
He's been worrying about his sister all his life, more or less, and that's fine. He grew used to that, learnt how to manage the way anxiety was woven through his every waking thought and haunting nightmare. But now that he's added worry about the hundred in general and Clarke in particular to his list, it's getting a bit overwhelming. He just wants it to be over, wants a safe life and a cottage and no more end-of-days drama.
He thinks he might want to keep chickens, too. Or maybe that might be a bit much.
He finds himself wondering whether Clarke likes chickens, but then pushes that thought aside. He ought to be concentrating on things that matter here and now. He therefore decides to call her and ask how she's getting on. It's been a whole two hours or so since they spoke, which is unusually long, based on their recent track record.
"Clarke?"
She picks up right away. "Bellamy. Hey."
He tries not to sigh in relief too loudly. He doesn't want her to hear that he's become a little pathetic over her, recently. But he grins broadly and settles back in his chair as he drives.
"So how's Azgeda?" He asks her, tone carefully light. He suspects it's grim and somewhat frightening, but he doesn't want to bring her down even further by admitting that.
She hesitates a moment. "Not as bad as expected, actually. Roan's here." He bristles. He doesn't much like the idea that the infuriatingly arrogant and handsome king is grounds for Clarke saying her day is not as bad as expected.
"Roan? What's he doing there?"
She laughs. "Careful, Bellamy. He can hear you. Everyone can. He's here because he's the king, remember?"
"Yeah. I know that." He mutters, defensive, not comfortable enough to buy into her joke.
Suddenly Raven's voice is coming through the radio. "Calm down, Bellamy. He's not taken us hostage yet. And Clarke's spent the whole ride so far talking about you so I think you're good on every front." He hears Clarke giggle nervously in the background. He quite likes the idea that she can find the energy to giggle, despite the death wave bearing down on them.
"Great. Yeah." What else does a guy say to a sentence like that? "So how have you been, Raven?"
She snorts. "Fine. Just your average end-of-days dread, you know? How about you?"
"Yeah." He swallows. He's close with Raven, but not that close. "I haven't found any good leads on O yet."
This time, it is Clarke's voice he hears. "You'll find her. I know you will." She tells him firmly. Bellamy allows himself, just for a moment, to imagine her snatching the radio out of Raven's hand for the sake of reassuring him as quickly as possible.
He likes that. It's a very comforting mental image, at a time when there's precious little comfort in his life.
"Thanks, Clarke. I'll keep trying. I'm not having much luck in the villages – I think I should try Polis soon."
"Yeah." He hears her take a deep breath. "I know you hate Polis. But it'll be worth it if you find her."
"Yeah. You're right." He admits. Admitting she's right comes much more easily than it used to, months ago, back when she first turned his world on its head.
"How are you doing otherwise?" She asks him – a little too brightly, he thinks. "Have you had plenty to eat? Are you – are you OK?"
"I'm doing alright. It's frustrating but – yeah. Not too bad. I actually really like driving the rover, so there's that."
"You do?" She asks the question in an encouraging tone.
"Yeah. I know it sounds silly but... it's like nothing else matters when I'm driving, you know? Just me and the road." He's vaguely aware that Raven and Roan and whoever else is in that rover right now can hear him. But, strangely, he finds that he doesn't much care, as long as he gets to share meaningful conversation with Clarke.
"That doesn't sound silly at all. I feel like that when I'm drawing." She tells him easily.
He grunts a sort of agreeing noise. It's good that she understood that. It makes him feel affirmed, encouraged, sort of like he has a sense of belonging. Like there's finally someone in his life who truly understands him.
He wonders if he dares to take it to the next level. Does he dare to say that he might like it even more, if he had a way to clear his mind and relax that wasn't built out of running errands for people? If there was anything in his life at all that existed for him, and him alone?
"We should make sure you get more time to read when all this is over." Clarke's voice interrupts his thoughts. "You deserve to get more time to yourself than just driving a rover. You like reading, right?"
He gapes, stunned. It's a good thing they're having this conversation over the radio, he thinks, because if she could see his face right now she'd know how head-over-heels in love he is with her.
Maybe she already does know that, he wonders. He's hardly subtle about it.
He clamps his jaw shut, fishes around for something to say. How is it that she understands him so perfectly, despite the distance between them? How did he survive all those years, before he had her living at his side?
What the hell will he do, if this doesn't work out? If they lose each other at the end of the world?
He clears his throat and tries to sound coherent. "Thanks, Clarke. I'd like that. You're right – I'd love to read more."
"We'll make it happen." She says, as if it's as simple as that. The funny thing is, she sounds so decisive about it that he almost believes it can be that easy. "What else do you have planned for after Praimfaya?"
He thinks about it for a moment. After everything she's done to make him feel so valued in recent days – telling him he deserves to take a break, reminding him he's more than his sister's keeper, calling him on the radio almost every hour – he's almost tempted to go all in. For a moment, he genuinely contemplates telling her he plans to build a life with her.
But then he shakes his head, feels his mouth fall into a frown. He can't do that. It's not fair to either of them to try to talk about something like that while they're physically far apart and waiting for the world to burn. What's more, they haven't a shred of privacy – he knows that Roan and Raven are listening in, and goodness only knows who else.
"I want to keep chickens." He offers, in the end. "Do you like chickens?"
She laughs, a loud and genuinely joyful sound. "No idea. I've never met one. But if you want to keep chickens, we can have a go at keeping chickens."
He feels a smile break out across his face, quite without his permission. There she goes again, throwing that casual we into every conversation they share. As if they're going to be a package deal, from now on.
As if they belong together.
…...
Clarke writes a list that night.
It's easier than the last list she wrote in this office, at least. This is not a list that sorts who lives from who dies – at least, she hopes it won't turn out that way. This is a list of who will ride out the death wave in which location, and she therefore hopes that everyone on it will live. But it's true that they have no way of knowing that every shelter from the storm will be perfectly safe. She knows she'll never forgive herself if one of the locations turns out not to be survivable, and she has accidentally condemned a vast number of people to death.
Then again, there are plenty of other things she'll never forgive herself for either. One more can hardly make much difference now.
She starts with the first bunker she and Bellamy found with Jaha – that one isn't radiation proof, but it doesn't need to be as they all have nightblood now. It will keep out the fire and can be stocked with supplies, so it will be good enough. Ice Nation will run that bunker, with a few Sangedakru squeezed in to make up the numbers. She and Roan agreed that in the rover this afternoon – seeing as it seems to be difficult to convince his war chiefs to keep an alliance for long, they will get around the problem by not trying to live in close proximity with loads of other clans while the death wave burns. Clarke realises this is no long term solution, and even feels a little like she's giving in by doing this. But frankly she does not want to spend a month below ground arguing with Azgeda warriors. Some battles are just not worth fighting – at least not right this minute.
The more difficult bit is dividing up the rest of the grounders and Skaikru between Arkadia and the Polis bunker. Arkadia is familiar, home, and ought to feel safe. But it's been patched up in a rush since the fire. And the Polis bunker is big and well-equipped, and they have decided that it can take far more people than its intended capacity as they will only be there for a month. But Skaikru will be needed there to run the air scrubbers and the water system, even if they are using mostly stored food instead of the hydrofarm.
In short, it's a challenge. She's worried that Arkadia might not be entirely safe, but they need to use it or not everyone will live. And she knows strong leadership will be needed in both Arkadia and Polis to see them through this nightmare.
She starts with that question – leadership. She writes her own name on the list for Polis not to save herself but because she doesn't trust anyone else to hold the alliance together under pressure. It's much easier to write her name today than it was on that earlier list, because this has nothing to do with whether or not she thinks she deserves to live. It's about whether she thinks everyone else deserves to live, or whether she wants them to spend that month at each other's throats.
That means Kane ought to be at Arkadia, she figures. She hesitates a bit over her mother – would she rather be with Kane, or with Clarke? And where is she needed most? Clarke settles on putting her in Arkadia, figures out that Jackson therefore needs to be in Polis. And so it goes until all the leaders and medics and engineers are accounted for, and then she arranges everyone else around them by family groups.
Well – all but two.
She moves onto the grounders next. She wants Indra with her in Polis, and naturally Gaia must come with her too. She puts Niylah on the list for Arkadia – she's well known and respected by the many grounders who use her business, and a promising nurse as well. That means she'll be useful in Arkadia. And so on and on, until everyone is allocated.
Except those last two.
She needs to do it. She just needs to write down Bellamy and Octavia, on one list or another. Most of the hundred will be at Arkadia, so she figures they might prefer to be there.
Needless to say, she wants them in Polis.
She hesitates a moment. Maybe they would want to be in Polis. Indra will be there, and Octavia is like a daughter to her. And Bellamy will follow Octavia, of course, so that would all make sense. She tries to tell herself that's a good reason to put them on the Polis list, that she's not being at all selfish.
It's only a month. It doesn't matter where Bellamy is for a month – just that he lives.
That's what decides it, in the end. He needs to live, and she remains a little sceptical about the state of the walls of Arkadia. She writes his name on the list for Polis, Octavia straight after him. She tries not to think too hard about the fact she was willing to write her own mother on the list for Arkadia, but couldn't bear to do the same for Bellamy.
And then she sets down her pen and calls him.
"Bellamy? You still awake?" She asks quietly.
"Mhmm." She's fairly convinced that means he wasn't awake, but for once in her life she needs to talk to him even more than she needs him to be well-rested.
"I just did the lists for who will live where during the death wave." She says, trying for a neutral tone.
"Yeah? Where will we be?" He asks. She allows herself to wonder for a moment whether that we refers to herself and him, or to him and his sister. No. She mustn't dwell on it – that way lies madness, and she's struggling enough with her sanity as it is, since she came to Earth.
"I've got you and Octavia in Polis." She tells him.
"With you, right? I mean, I'm guessing that's where you'll be?"
"Yeah. I'll be there, and Indra. Jackson, Miller, and Raven too. But not that many other Skaikru."
"That's OK. It's not supposed to be a party, is it? As long as I'm with the people I care about most that's all that matters to me."
She feels her cheeks warm a little at his implication, notes that her mouth is crinkling up into a smile. For a couple of weeks now she has known on a logical level that she is one of the people he cares about the most. But she's really starting to feel the truth of it in her heart, now, as they share this late night conversation.
She wonders whether the hour is the reason he said it. He's always more open and vulnerable at night, somehow. Easier to get close to, perhaps. One of these nights she's determined to sleep next to him and find out whether there is even more to this side of him.
"Yeah. At least we'll be together." She dares to say.
"Yeah. We can spend the time making plans for those chickens." He jokes lightly.
She laughs. "You know, I'm pretty sure that was Miller's thing first. Didn't he used to talk about chickens, back when we first landed?"
Bellamy snorts. "Not to me he didn't. He only ever used to talk to me about guns and guard training. I guess it's a good thing we've both grown up since then."
She makes an agreeing sort of noise, lets the easy silence sit for a moment. This conversation is so much like the comfort they shared that night they wrote the first list – only even better somehow. Bellamy may not be physically present, may not be squeezing her shoulder, but their emotional closeness is so much deeper and more honest these days that she can scarcely believe how far they've come.
She's proud of them.
Just for a moment, she wonders about saying it. For a couple of heartbeats, she contemplates confessing something about love.
But then Bellamy clears his throat and the moment passes.
"Get some sleep." He says softly. "We can talk more in the morning."
"Yeah. Sorry for waking you."
"Don't be. It's always good to hear from you. But you need to get some rest." It's typical, she thinks, that they're both trying to protect each other from distance, here.
"I know. You too. Sleep well."
"Night."
She goes to bed feeling like a giddy young girl in the heat of her first crush, that night. She lies there for long minutes and stares at the ceiling and relives every word she has shared with Bellamy today. It's the silliest thing, to be feeling the excitement of love as the world is ending.
She's not silly very often, she's pretty sure. But right now she's almost proud to salvage some frivolous joy from this living hell.
…...
Bellamy figures he's due some good luck for a change.
To be fair, he's been thinking that for months now – or possibly even years. But right this moment, as he leaves the rover outside Polis and starts walking determinedly into the city streets, he's feeling even more convinced of it. He almost feels optimistic, in fact.
Presumably that won't last.
His good mood holds strong as he asks around in bars, listens in on conversations in the crowded market place. His Trig isn't great, but it's serviceable enough to understand the gist of a conversation.
He hates Polis, and has nothing but bad memories of coming here to save Clarke and have his concern thrown back in his face. But maybe that's why he's feeling so improbably bright today. Maybe it's because things have changed for the better between him and Clarke, because they have a distinctly functional relationship right now, and because that's turning his sad memories of this place on their head.
He feels even better, as he overhears a conversation in one crowded inn. At least, he thinks it's an inn – he's not clear on whether the place sells drink or clothing or beds for the night or all three. But whatever the place is, someone is complaining about Skairipa.
"Skairipa? I'm looking for her. Where is she?" He asks, in urgent, clunky Trig.
"Nobody knows." Comes the answer.
"But has anyone seen her? Where has she been?"
"Last I heard, she was heading towards Trishanakru lands."
Just for a moment, he allows himself to wilt in relief. It seems he was right to give Polis a second chance.
a/n Thanks for reading!