I'm thrilled with all the hits, followers, and favorites this fic has. But it only has two reviews, which makes me feel kind of like a loser. If you'd like more of this story, please leave a review. Thank you.

Chapter Four

Emori

"I don't understand Skaikru's desire to name babies after dead relatives. Grounder clans don't usually do that."

Emori and Murphy are spending this part of the afternoon relaxing. Enhancements to the cabin are almost complete, and they've earned this break. They're currently playing a game that Murphy invented, a game which he and Miller often play on their downtime. One of the bushes grows bright yellow flowers. Murphy found that it can be enjoyable to take one, uproot the stem, and try to split it down the middle by pulling it apart – without breaking the stem in half. These bushes with their flowers grow abundantly – and don't really serve any other purpose aside from beauty - so anyone who wants to can play the game as often as they like.

Emori doesn't fully see the fun in it, but she goes along. She's made her declaration about baby names while referring to grounder clans in present tense - even though she knows that at this point, about 400 stragglers left on Sanctum are all that remain of the old clans.

"Not everyone in Skaikru did that. But hey, I told you. I'm open to whatever," Murphy insists. His voice is kind, and Emori sees that he's smiling. He usually smiles when they talk of the baby. It has only been about seven weeks since Emori realized she's expecting.

"So we're agreed that we're not naming the baby after anyone?" Emori asks.

"Even if we wanted to, Emori, we've got so many dead people friends and family behind us. How would we pick just one?"

She grunts her assent. Murphy's comment was halfway between sarcastic and serious, which Emori truly loves. And she recognizes its wisdom. She truly doesn't feel like mentally running down the list of those they lost again today. "So we'll have to great creative with names then," she says brightly.

"There are a million names out there. We just have to pick one we like." Murphy tilts his head. "Well, two we like. Unless we want to do what Monty and Harper did and just settle on one name whether it's a boy or girl."

Emori reaches for another flower. "Hurts a bit less," she says quietly. "Thinking of them."

He gently touches her arm. She muses that this day is passing slowly. Bellamy has already made his daily attempt to return to Sanctum, and his result is the same as it has been every day for the past four months. Emori then gazes up at the ring in the sky, still finding irony in the fact that she'd spent six years living on "the ring". How long would they be on Skyring? Given the time difference with Sanctum, most everyone here – except Bellamy – has given up hope that Raven or Gabriel will find a way to get here so they reckon that unless there are other forces at work, they will be here for a while. Maybe for the rest of their lives.

"I think about my parents sometimes," Murphy says, after it has been quiet for a while. "I mean a lot more lately. Since the baby," he glances at her, first meeting her eyes and then trailing down to gaze at her midsection for a few seconds.

"How is it – when you think about them?" she asks. She's eager to hear his answer. They've discussed his parents before, of course, many times. She thinks that each time he talks about it, some of the pain seems to ease just from the way his facial features relax a bit.

"I mean, it didn't hurt this time," he admits. "Just - I need to figure out how to not repeat their mistakes. My dad loved me so much that he took a risk – and didn't survive the result. My mom blamed me for it."

Emori nods. She's quiet for a while, and then when she sees that he's not continuing, she adds. "You're right. We have to be careful not to blame the child for anything they can't control." She wants to add bitterly words to the effect of also not casting the child out if they look different. But she feels she's brought that up with Murphy a lot in the past. He's always open to listening but right now Emori truly feels over it, over that nightmarish childhood, the unending hurt that almost left her nothing more than a hard shell. Almost.

"Right." He shrugs and smiles at her. "We'll figure it out. This parenthood business. Like we've figured out how to stay alive."

She returns his nod.

Murphy clearly wants to get back to the game. "Come on," he says. "You're ahead. Let's play a few more rounds."

Clarke

She's sleeping when it happens. Clarke's sleep on Skyring is much like her the best nights on Shallow Valley. Deep, restful, comforting. Sure, she sometimes has nightmares just like the others do, just like she sometimes had on Shallow Valley. There are nights where she wakes up sweating or even screaming, but most of the time she goes under, stays under, and doesn't wake until the sunshine streams in through their window or she hears someone puttering around with the tea kettle. She knows it's obvious – she's even discussed it a few times with the others – but not having the burden of the human race on her shoulders helps immensely.

She sleeps on the bottom bunk and Madi on the top. Clarke and the others have worked endlessly in the four and a half months since they've been here, and their cabin is now enhanced with its three new bedrooms. They need better insulation but the rooms are fairly solid. Their room boasts a window, but neither Clarke nor Madi has had time to make curtains for it yet.

Due to her restful sleep, Clarke misses most of the incident. She misses the sound of wind picking up. She doesn't hear the boom in the distance at all. She doesn't hear Bellamy scramble out the door, doesn't know that he sees the green whir that can only be the anomaly. Clarke finally wakes when Bellamy is by her side, tugging her arm, and imploring her to follow.

"It's back!" Bellamy is saying, loud enough to wake everyone. "The anomaly." Clarke has a couple seconds to regain consciousness, take in what's happening, register the blustery winds outside, see hints of green through the window, and listen to Bellamy.

"Bellamy, wait!" Clarke says, leaping to her feet. "We can't just go rushing back out there. We don't know what will happen!"

Clarke has a few more seconds to process the situation. Bellamy is standing there, his gaze darting between Clarke and the direction of the lake where the anomaly appears to be. The fact that he is still simply standing there belies the look in his eyes. He's uncertain, Clarke realizes. He knows that what I just said is true. If he truly wanted to jump back into it, he would have already.

In the meantime, Madi rises and climbs down from the top bunk, and others can be heard stirring. The sounds from outside are rapidly dying down. The green glow is considerably dimmer than it was even five seconds ago, and the wind is no longer howling. Clarke looks intently at Bellamy, and he takes a breath.

"I don't know what to do, Clarke," he admits. His mouth is slightly open, and she thinks he's perspiring. "You're right. We don't know if jumping back in there will take us back to Sanctum."

She steps closer and puts a hand on his arm. "It might take us somewhere else. It might kill us. Or it might drop us back on Sanctum. Hell, it might drop us back on Sanctum 200 years in the past. We just don't know." She speaks the words both firmly and compassionately.

Madi speaks up, slipping her shoes on. "Let's head out there to take a look anyway," she says. "Sounds like it's all dying down now though."

Madi appears to be right. The green mist is no longer visible at all and the night, now, feels just like any other night. However, this group knows how to mobilize fast – the others are already semi-dressed and heading out towards the lake. They look comical, some of them shirtless as they brandish their gardening tools as weapons. But by the time they reach the lake, any and all evidence of the anomaly is gone. There are no footsteps to be seen, no sign that any person or any thing came through here. The group discusses it briefly and most decide to return to bed. It's cold and they are exhausted – and, as Murphy mumbles, "Whatever happened here, we missed it."

Clarke is unsurprised when Bellamy slowly seats himself on a log instead of returning to the cabin. Although Bellamy appeared indecisive moments ago, Clarke is firm now as she asks, "Can I join you?"

Bellamy nods, Clarke exchanges a look with Madi, and she lowers herself to sit on the log beside him. Madi joins the others in walking back to the cabin

The log isn't that big and their sides are pressed together. She's glad for his warmth against the cool night. Clarke hadn't slipped her shoes on before the dash to the lake. The pebbles and sand along the beach are damp and her feet are already getting cold. A sharp pebble has left a small nick on one of her soles.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Clarke asks. "You-you heard something and ran down here to check it out?"

Bellamy nods. His gaze is straightforward, at the lake. He keeps looking at the body of water that he dives into every single day in his Sisyphean quest to return the way they came. Clarke finds the lake beautiful, and she wonders if he does too – or if he finds it a hated reminder of what he cannot do.

"I was asleep but it must've been a real light sleep," Bellamy begins. "Then I heard the boom, knew it came from this direction. I ran out here. The wind was strong and there was green everywhere – the anomaly. Ran out the door. I almost ran straight into it." He breaks off his recounting there.

"But you stopped," Clarke finishes for him. She's looking at him even though he continues to gaze at the lake.

"I stopped." Bellamy speaks the words and is silent for some time.

Clarke waits. She's getting goose bumps, and she doesn't think they are due solely to the child night.

He finally takes a breath and continues. "It wasn't fear of the unknown. I was ready to jump into it." Finally he turns his head and looks at her. "I didn't want to leave you. Didn't want you to wonder where I had gone or what the hell happened to me. So I ran back to the cabin. To talk to you."

Clarke wants to respond pragmatically. She wants to tell him he made the right decision, the logical one. After all, there was no guarantee that the green mass would take him back to Sanctum. For all they knew, it could have taken him anywhere in the galaxy. It could have killed him or drowned him or tossed him straight into the sky and back down again. They had no way of knowing whether or not it would take him back to Octavia.

"Thank you," Clarke says softly. "I would have missed you. Missed you horribly. Those six years when you were on the ring – all that time of not knowing if you were alive or not – that was hell." This is as much of an admission as she's ready to make right now. She nearly shudders at being this open and braces herself for polite rejection.

Bellamy's response surprises her. "Your feet," he says. "They must be cold. Is one of them bleeding?"

Clarke lets out a nervous laugh. "Yes and yes."

"We should bandage it," he says straightforwardly.

Clarke is still scared of how open she's been, so she responds with sarcasm. "I mean, I'm not gonna die from it. I've fought battles with wounds a lot worse than this." She takes a deep breath and forces herself to shift back into painful, terrifying honesty. "Bellamy," she begins again, her voice firm. "I meant what I said a second ago. But I also don't want you to feel trapped here because of me. We've been here four and a half months. If the anomaly returns in another four and a half months – and if you want to risk it, I-I don't want you to feel that I am the one holding you back."

Bellamy reaches for her hand and holds it. "I don't feel that way now – and I won't feel that way if it happens again." His voice is firm and solid. He looked indecisive in the cabin, but he's not indecisive now, Clarke thinks. "I tried to use both my head and my heart today. I jumped at the idea that that thing might bring me back to Octavia, but my head had the stronger argument – we have no idea where or when the anomaly would've taken me." He pauses and concludes, with even more firmness, "I'm glad I listened to my head tonight."

Clarke listens to his words as she grasps his warm hand. Is he sincerely paying her a complement and showing her how much he values her thoughts? But is he also simultaneously warning that they both need to listen to their heads and not rush into a relationship, not do anything that would destroy their friendship? But if he truly feels that she's just a friend, wouldn't he have dived into the anomaly and trusted that all of his friends – Murphy and the others included right alongside Clarke – would understand what he did and why he did it?

Clarke doesn't know, and suddenly the wound on her sole hurts more now than she'd said it did.

"Me too," she says, acknowledging his words. She then gestures with her free hand towards her foot and adds, "I'm gonna go take care of this."

"I'll go with you," he says, standing up and offering her his hand. They walk together, hand in hand but in silence.

Jackson

Dinner tonight consists of slim portions of grilled fish alongside spinach from the garden and a soup made of mushrooms, onions, and a spicy herb that Emori calls aseria (the others have never heard of it). They had hopes of having berries for dessert but the berries seem to be going through a mushy, tasteless phase right now. The group sits around the table, eating slowly and savoring the meal. This meal – like all the others on Skyring – is a veritable feast compared to what most of them have eaten for most of their lives. They know to be grateful for it, and they eat slowly.

"Okay," Madi says, "whose turn is it to tell a story?"

Murphy points at Jackson and Miller. "These two." He adds, "Just no ghost stories again."

"Roger that," Miller says, smiling. "I know they make you scared."

"No, they make me bored," Murphy says, and his quip is met with sincere laughter and smiles. "Your last three stories were ghost stories."

"Tell us something from the bunker," Emori suggests. Her pregnant status allows her to get away with things that others might not. Besides, by now, the group is not opposed to touching on formerly-taboo topics.

Jackson looks at Miller. He can tell from the look in his eyes that an idea just came to Miller. "We can tell 'em about the guy who used to hit on you," Miller says.

Jackson furrows his brow. "I can't remember his name."

"Oh, I remember it!" Miller says in his trademark droll manner, and the group giggles along with him. "Teiku," he adds, supplying the name.

Jackson shrugs. "Go ahead and tell it. It's not much of a story." He looks at Murphy and adds, "Miller's ghost stories are better." He slices another piece of fish to enjoy.

"Well, you got us curious," Bellamy says chuckling. "So we better learn about the guy who used to hit on you." He then looks from Jackson to Miller and asks, "He hit on both of you or just Jackson?"

"Oh, just Jackson," Miller answers, again his tone making it clear how he had felt about the situation. He's clearly bemused about it now.

Jackson gestures for Miller to go on, and Miller divulges the story. "He was this big warrior. Well, most everyone in the bunker was a big warrior since that's who the clans chose to be most of their survivors."

"Which wasn't the least bit intimidating," Jackson adds with a laugh. He then nudges Miller, "Not for Nate, of course. But for the Skaikru who were there because we were 'essential station personnel' – yeah, a bit intimidating."

"So this Teiku guy used to go by med bay and just flirt outrageously with Jackson," Miller says. "Oh, he laid it on thick. He'd go up to him and say stuff like 'Handsome Skaikru doctor, come with me.' Jacks would politely tell him to back off."

"Abby tossed him out of med bay a few times," Jackson adds. He steals a glance at Clarke. He sees the flash of pain in her eyes which must mirror the one in his own. He's fairly certain that it will never completely dissipate. He still misses his own mother and it's been – he realizes now with a jolt – 18 years since she died.

"He'd keep coming back though. The whole thing made me so angry," Miller says, shaking his head. "Indra once told me to keep my wits about me and not do anything stupid. Because I was about to."

"So what happened?" Madi asks.

Jackson shrugs. "We used our heads. We knew that under Skaikru's charter, paying unwanted sexual attention to someone was against the law, and we learned that grounder clans all had a similar rule. And you all know the punishment for breaking any rule down there. So we sat him down and had a little talk with him. Told him he needed to stop or end up in the pits."

"Did he change after that?" Clarke asks, as reaches for her spoon again.

"He backed off. But I think he broke some other law after that and ended up in the arena anyway," Jackson tilts his head as he tries to recall.

"He did," Miller adds, "but he won so he was released. But a few months after that, he broke another law and he didn't survive that battle."

Murphy grins at Miller, "You sure remember everything about this guy, don't you? Didn't like that you had competition?"

Murphy's tone is more teasing than anything, and Miller apparently is going to allow it. "Sure didn't." He then adds, "This was before the dark year, so you don't have to make any jokes about this ending with us eating him after all."

Jackson finds himself laughing harder than anyone else at Miller's last remark. He feels lighter right now. Maybe, he wonders, something Miller has been saying for a while is right – that talking and laughing about it really does help get through it. However he knows that getting over Abby's death is a different matter entirely.

Later, Jackson asks Emori how she's feeling and her answer is, "The same as when you asked me two hours ago."

"You'll let us babysit, right?" Jackson asks.

"Oh, I expect you to!" Emori says, her eyes glinting. "John and I will need to get sleep occasionally."

TBC