REUNION...Well, "first encounter" technically and...Almost. I'm getting there, Guys. SO CLOSE. But I'm psyched for how they are going to interact with each other XD. Bellamy was a jerk in season one, so I want to keep their chemistry similar as it is in the show. But I really like writing from his perspective. I hope I capture it accurately. But I've got plans for this, Guys. Important plans! So please, you beautiful people, please review!

Blood was everywhere. It soaked through Bellamy's sleeve and ran in ropes down his arm, plastering the material to his skin. Not moments before he was down the corridor, the sound of alarms pierced the air, shattering the stillness between Bellamy's footsteps and the sound of pursuing guards. For a second, he thought blood must have gotten in his eyes, because the entire world turned red.

He ran for as long as he could, until his legs threatened to give underneath him and he dove into an equipment room. Bellamy barely registered the small quarters, full of repair utensils, before everything rushed back to him.

Now Bellamy was feeling the pain. It raked down his shoulder blade and lit the nerves on fire. It darkened the edges of his vision and made his head swim.

He splayed a hand over the nearest wall, trying to keep himself upright long enough to tear off a piece of his undershirt.

I'm not dying here, he told himself, even as unconsciousness threatened to overpower him. He hadn't shot the Chancellor just to die in an equipment room.

Bellamy wrapped the cloth around his forearm with quaking fingers and pulled it taught, until the fabric bit into him. Blood drenched it instantly and Bellamy's hand came away slick with scarlet. He let out a curse and looked around the room, trying to see through his blurring vision.

His eyes landed on a chest of sorts. Or a broken cryo chamber, dusted in a layer grime, thick with evident neglect.

He took a step forward, and the ground seemed to tilt sideways and Bellamy suddenly found himself lying on it. He struggled to get up, but a heaviness settled over his body, sinking him into the floor. A darkness crept into his vision, slowly falling over his eyes like a black curtain. The final act.

Maybe that meant he was dying. Forget that being in an equipment room or not. Whether he wanted it or not. His plans hadn't exactly deigned to go accordingly today. This morning, he'd expected to be on a ship headed for Earth. And instead he was bleeding to death in a closet still on the Ark.

But that didn't mean he would go quietly.

As a last ditch effort, Bellamy pulled himself over to the chest and hefted up the lid. Somehow, by pure will or stubbornness, he managed to clamor his way inside. Then he shut it, and more darkness erupted. The last thing he thought of was Octavia and the promise he made to their mother.

My sister. My responsibility.

Then the shadows took him.

Bellamy didn't know what sunlight looked like, but he hadn't imagined it to be like this. Not like pools of gold, trickling though the branches. Not like a patchwork of diamond netting sparkling over the ground, beyond the door of the dropship he still stood inside.

It was beautiful and strange, but not quite foreign. It seemed natural, like this kind of light was supposed to be, and the one he'd grown up beneath was just some poor imitation of it. No, after seeing what sunlight was, he never wanted to be without it.

Bellamy took a step forward, eager to see what else Earth had to offer. To feel the dirt under his feet. To feel the wind in his hair, one that wasn't made by turbines or propellers but real wind that traveled on its own time. He wanted to breathe in this air, not the air that had traveled through corridors for ninety seven years. But fresh air, that no human had tasted before.

He wanted it all and no part of him could afford to feel guilty for this piece of selfishness. It wasn't a conscious want, it was an instinctive want, that ran so deep he felt it press against his soul, whispering things like life and beauty and freedom until it became as steady as his heartbeat.

Bellamy made for the door faster, until he was just inches away from seeing it. From seeing it all.

Then two things happened.

Like a switch, the sunlight went out, leaving him in luminous shadows. And where the door had stood, open and welcoming, it now began to close, preparing to lock him inside.

"No!" Bellamy tried to move forward, but it was as if his feet had been nailed to the floor. He couldn't lift them. He couldn't do anything but watch the door, as it fell lower and lower to the ground.

A scream exploded from somewhere, and Bellamy stilled before he started struggling again, feeling as if all his senses, every cell in his body had been electrocuted. His blood sang through his veins as he recognized his sister's screams, coming from beyond the closing door.

"O?" He shouted, straining against the unseen force that kept him there, immobile. "Octavia!"

"Bellamy!" He heard her cry out, and something twisted inside him. "Help!"

Bellamy pulled. He yanked and shoved and clawed his way towards it but nothing gave. His feet were held as firmly as steel, infused into the metal grating. "Octavia!" he shouted again. But there was no reply this time. And he watched in horror as the door finally closed, taking the last fragments of light with it.

Bellamy had brushed the hand of death once before. It was when he was younger, just a little kid whose strongest asset had been the ability to keep his mouth shut. A couple of other children his age had corralled him into one of the floating chambers. Why it'd been unsupervised then, he'd had no idea, but those little jerks had pushed him inside and closed it. He'd watched, helplessly from the other side, banging his tiny fists against the glass as one of the older boys had teased the air above the lethal button that would pull him into nothingness.

Bellamy could remember screaming so hard his throat turned raw; slamming his hands again and again until they were raw, too.

And those kids? They'd laughed.

It had been the only time Bellamy had been glad to see a guard; the only time one had been his hero instead of his enemy. But even when he was out of the chamber, he couldn't shake the feeling he was still moments away from being sucked into darkness.

And this felt kind of like that.

There was darkness. And Bellamy felt cold. He kept falling in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware, sometimes speaking to his sister as if he were back in hiding with her. He bobbed beneath the waves again and again, the chill worsening but he wasn't sure if that was due to the blood loss or the dark images that haunted him in sleep. At one point, he'd jolted up, feeling as if he were choking only to find a wad of cloth he'd stuffed in his mouth to keep any noises he might have made muffled. But then he'd dropped back into that dark sea, feeling waves of nightmares knock him down deeper and deeper until he was certain he'd drown.

Bellamy wasn't sure when those waters receded enough for him to open his eyes and actually make sense of where he was, but eventually, he did. Right. He was in a box. In a closet. On the Ark. Still in space. He'd been shot and though it seemed to be numb, Bellamy doubted that was a good sign. He needed medical attention. In the very least, disinfectant. But the medical bay was in Sci Gov Station, which would be guarded since they knew he'd been shot and would go after supplies.

Great.

Through the fog clouding his ability to think clearly, Bellamy contemplated his options. He could either try for the bandages and possibly live. Or stay in this box until it became his coffin. Neither option seemed appealing, and Bellamy would've preferred to die on his own terms rather than being shot off into space by some pretentious guard just aching to do the bidding. No, he'd die by one of their bullets instead.

It was just a slow enough death that he could pretend it was on his terms.

From the depths of the cryo chamber, Bellamy let out a scoff, but it sounded more like a groan. No, he would not die in a box. He wouldn't be caught by the guards. He'd come up with a way to make it into Sci Gov undetected, get what he needed, and then find some alternative to reach the ground. For now, he would ignore the asininity of his plan. To a dying man, it was sound logic, so he raised his good hand to the lid of the chamber.

A cold draft seemed to sweep in as he hefted it open and though his arm was numb, he still felt the stab of pain that laced down his shoulder. His vision was fuzzy, but Bellamy wrested his way out of the box, praying his legs didn't buckle right there. Or worse; in the corridor.

When he stood, Bellamy felt the shaking in his knees and wondered how long he'd been without food. Or water. Yet just another thing he'd need to avoid not dying. So be it, then.

Bellamy moved to the door of the room, and opened it slowly, half expecting a phalanx of guards to be waiting for him on the other side. But there was nothing except an empty corridor, expanding left and right.

Maybe if he passed anyone, they'd think he was just a guard. But Bellamy doubted the clothing was an advantage anymore. They were looking for an impostor. They'd be checking the guards and if that didn't give him away, his bleeding shoulder and undoubtedly pale face would.

Screw it, Bellamy thought, before forcing his legs forward. The haze in his mind seemed to clear as adrenaline spiked his heart rate, warning him of every sound; every movement even if it was as subtle as changing lights. He walked as fast as he could, feeling the breath go out of him whenever he spotted someone in the distance and he had to lower his head or shove himself in a far corner. Bellamy imagined those alarms going off again. Pictured hands shoving him into a floating chamber and this time, pressing the button.

He clenched his hands and ignored the pain, grinding his teeth and moving forward...forward. That was all he had to do. He just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Get supplies. Get water. Get to the ground.

Get supplies. Get water. Get to the ground.

Bellamy chanted this like a mantra in his head, focusing on them so hard, he nearly missed the sound of pounding feet, heading directly towards him.

Bellamy turned around. And stilled, like a deer caught in the headlights, hoping the image of three guards down the corridor was just a hallucination. But then their eyes locked with him, a shout rang out, and that hope was instantly lost.

Bellamy bolted. Down the corridor, all concern for pain and blood evaporating. His feet pounded as he ran, knocking over anyone close enough to get in his way.

"Stop!" The guards behind him roared, but that only spurred him faster. He spared a few glances at either side of him, dropping down one corridor after the next, praying something that he could hide behind or under or in would materialize in front of him.

He burst into some sub-level of Agro Station, searching, turning in a small circle for just something. Maybe another equipment room, a bathroom, he'd even take another cryo chamber if it meant-

Bellamy's gaze dropped to a storage locker, embedded in the far-side wall. He didn't waste any time and Bellamy ran to it and pulled it open, revealing a small rectangular space.

What was it with him and boxes?

Ignoring the sudden stab of pain that exploded over his shoulder, Bellamy stuffed himself inside, sitting atop whatever vials or synthetic seeds or textbooks that was stored away with him. He yanked the small door of it shut, and his nightmare mingled with reality, as everything went out.

Bellamy counted down the seconds, each one holding a tangible weight to them as he heard footsteps, growing louder and louder, seemingly from all sides.

Eight...nine...

A moment later, his heart leaped in his throat as the handle to the storage locker jostled.

Everything inside Bellamy screamed at him to fight, to die with his fists in a guard yet his exhaustion belied his ability to do so. But he could go out with his chin up and his head held high. He could walk out strong.

Bellamy remembered what his mother used to tell Octavia, for her to brave returning to the darkness beneath the floorboards. "I am not afraid," his mother's voice chimed in his head. "I am not afraid. Say it."

I am not afraid, Bellamy told himself.

He closed his eyes.