Pleeeease review, Guys! I swear I have more action waiting. And yes, I do include quotes from the TV show. Sometimes I just mix it up so kudos to whoever picks up on them. :)
They made it back to the storage chamber unseen. Bellamy's hair clung to his forehead and he wiped at it with his sleeve, out of breath from the run. From the fear of being spotted. Luckily for them both, they hadn't been, but they had come far closer than his liking.
Bellamy went over to the supplies he'd collected from Jaha and took a long sip from one of the water packets. Then he leaned against the wall, letting the steel cool his damp back. He looked at Clarke.
Bellamy had already taken notice of her state-the glistening of her eyes, the tangible sadness that hung on the air around her. But she didn't cry, and for some reason, Bellamy felt almost proud of her for it.
The feeling quickly evaporated the longer he watched her, her gaze transfixed on her hand. She held something in it, something small he couldn't make out, but he thought he caught sight of an object- compact and silvery.
"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to it with a nod of his head.
Clarke seemed to suddenly notice him. She took a seat on the floor and pulled out a tablet. "I'm about to find out," she murmured, as she inserted what Bellamy now saw was a hard drive. The translucent screen suddenly lit up, bathing Clarke in a spectral glow.
Bellamy crept forward, whether out of curiosity or suspicion, he didn't know. "I can't afford you privacy," he said, when he realized he'd come closer than intended.
But Clarke seemed unfazed. "It isn't my secret anymore. It never should've been one from the start."
Bellamy wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but then she pressed something on the tablet's surface, and a set of files appeared at her fingertips.
Bellamy leaned closer.
(Most Recent) Current Life Support status-July 5th, 2148.
"What is this?" Bellamy asked, casting a look at Clarke she couldn't see. But her attention was on the small image of someone, and she enlarged it. Sandy hair Light eyes filled the screen. Bellamy watched Clarke as she raised a hand, fingers hovering over the face of the man, as if she wished she could reach through and touch him.
Sound came over the small speaker, and a deep voice broke out around them.
"My name is Jake Griffin," the man said, and Clarke inhaled sharply.
"I'm the Senior Environmental Engineer and Deputy Resource Officer. Today, I need to talk to you about our future." He clasped his hands before him. "The things I need to tell you are serious. The Ark... is dying. This city in space that has been our sanctuary has approximately one year left, before our air reserves are gone. Time is running out. this is an undeniable reality, but we have pledged our lives to make sure that humanity does not share that fate. Now, while there is still time, we must come together and face this crisis head on. I believe it will bring out the best in us-our strength, our humanity, our faith,-that we will come together in this time of uncertainty."
"Dad?" A familiar voice sounded and the man abruptly shifted away from the screen. The video ended there, the image frozen with his face turned in the direction of the voice; a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
"I walked in on him when he was filming this," Clarke whispered, so quietly Bellamy barely heard. "It was just before he was arrested."
Bellamy shot her a pitying look and was instantly glad she hadn't seen it. He didn't take her as a girl who welcomed pity.
Bellamy looked back to the screen, still holding the picture of her father, and he shook his head. "What does that mean, the Ark is dying?" Though he asked it, Bellamy already knew. He'd heard the same thing she had, and now, her earlier words made sense. It's not my secret anymore. It should have never been one from the start.
"So everyone on the Ark is going to die? Is that what he's saying?" Bellamy knelt beside her. "Is that why they sent my sister to the ground? As a method of disposal?"
Clarke didn't say anything for a moment, as she continued to stare at the tablet. "My Dad originally thought it was a glitch in the system, but the more he looked into it...Life support on the Ark is almost empty. My Dad estimated we had around a year, but-" she exited out of the image and selected a different file. Columns of words unrolled at her touch.
Bellamy caught those same words again, (Most Recent) Current Life Support status-July 5th, 2148, along with a long list of others.
Status-April 5th, Status-May 5th, Status-June 5th. The last documented entry had been in July. "What does this mean?" Bellamy growled, hating his own ignorance. This went beyond just him reaching his sister. This was the inevitable reality of the Ark's condition. And it was fatal.
"Oh no," Clarke said, the words just brushing past her lips. Bellamy looked at her. "Oh no, what?"
Clarke seemed to struggle with her voice before she managed to find it again. "My Dad...He overestimated the Ark's lifespan by three months. The One Hundred...they won't be enough."
Bellamy stared at the crown of her head and something in her words made inexplicable fear trickle down his spine. "So what are you saying? What's the Council going to do about it?"
Clarke looked up at him and this time, he could see the horror in her eyes, refracting in azure blue. "A culling."
Bellamy blanched. A culling. Selective murder. Mass murder. Death to the non-essentials, like tossing out extra cargo. He just looked at her in silence, unable to keep the revulsion off his face. "So they're just going to kill people in cold blood?" he asked, his tone deathly calm. "Line us up like pigs to slaughter." His voice grew louder then, until the sound of it was echoing off the chamber walls. "Will they float us in five's? Ten's? Let me guess who will be the first ones to go?"
"Bellamy, listen to me," Clarke said, having to raise her own voice for him to hear her.
He glared back at her. "You know, your mom's a real piece of work."
She visibly flinched at that and Bellamy felt a prickle of guilt. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I didn't mean-"
"You're right," Clarke deadpanned. "But this isn't her doing. This will be the Council's."
"And who do you think will be their target?" Bellamy challenged, nearly shouting again. "I can guarantee you it won't be Council members. It will be working people. My people," he spat the words at her.
But Clarke was looking at him differently now. Still solemn, the air around them charged with tension, but something sparked in her eyes. "Yes. They'll be floated against their will. Unless we give them a choice."
Bellamy felt the confusion register on his face. "What are you talking about?"
Clarke held up her hand, brandishing the small silver of metal that flashed dully in the low-light. "We can show them what they're up against," she said."And we can have them decide."
Bellamy stared at her. Emotions ran rampant inside him. Fury. Surprise. And something that felt remarkably close to respect, for this seemingly privileged girl, that hadn't been privileged in a very long time.
"But we don't have the equipment to send out that feed," he pointed out.
Clarke smirked. "My Mom mentioned someone. I think they could help."
But Bellamy was already shaking his head. He didn't quite trust Clarke, not completely anyway, and contrary to what he used to think, her family relations were not something to be marveled at. "Sorry I don't feel overeager to trust your mother," he said bitterly.
She sighed. "You want a way to the ground, though," she reminded him, as if the hole in his chest wasn't enough. "This just might be how you get there."
Bellamy stilled. "You know of another way to the ground?"
Clarke nodded. "A pod. My Mom has someone working on it."
Something warm expanded over Bellamy, something dangerously close to hope. "Like repairs? ...But wouldn't that mean it's in Mecha?"
She nodded again. "It is. I think Sci Gov is still in lock down and if not, it's heavily guarded. We'd have to go through the other Stations to get there. It'll be harder, but-"
"No," Bellamy interrupted. He was already devising his own plan, recalling his time spent as a guard; the places it had given him access to. The secrets the advantage of a uniform had gotten him. And he came to the conclusion right then and there that if this girl was insane, he was worse.
She'd started to say something else but Bellamy cut her off again. "I have an idea."
"No," Clarke said, her voice rigid. Even commanding. "We can't do that, Bellamy."
"If we go around there's no way we'll make it without being caught. And you know I'm right." Bellamy had processed his idea so quickly that he was certain it was reckless. Stupid. Quite possibly suicidal. But it also happened to be their only shot at making it to Mecha.
Yet Clarke still refused, shaking her head adamantly. "I tell you that the Ark is dying and your initial thought is to waste even more air? And that's not even expounding on fact that neither of us would know what we're doing."
"I've overseen at least a dozen spacewalks," Bellamy told her. He could clearly remember the mechanics suiting up and waiting inside an air-locked chamber before it opened. Every time, he'd half expected them to plummet over the edge, but they were just swept up by some invisible current, and out into nothing. "Mecha is just on the opposite side of Sci Gov. That's two minutes of air. Three tops."
Clarke gazed back at him, her eyes hard and unyielding. "We can't."
Bellamy felt a surge of annoyance and stepped towards her. When he spoke, it was cold. "I'm not really asking for your permission, Princess."
She matched his tone. "So you're willing to risk someone else's life just to take a shortcut to Mecha? Do you honestly want more blood on your hands?"
Bellamy didn't back down but the accusation was sharp-edged and its cut was deep. No, he didn't want anyone else to bleed so that he could live, but people would still die. That was something that couldn't be helped.
"This isn't up for negotiation," he told her. "If you want to take your chances taking the long route, then so be it. But my way is your best bet of getting that message on every screen. I can handle a little blood on my hands, but can you?"
In this moment, her walls were down and he could clearly see the hesitation lining her features; worrying the edges of her mouth.
Bellamy spread his arms in exasperation. "The air will run out one way or another. And the Council will do what it wants, just like it always has. But if you're caught, that message will be destroyed and you'll be floated. Then everything you've risked here, for your Dad, for everyone aboard, will mean absolutely nothing."
Fear and denial warred in her eyes and Bellamy could practically see the gears in her mind working, scrounging to conjure an alternative solution. He didn't know her well, but he had seen the way this girl calculated things. She took the time to weigh her options. The type of person who thought about her words before she spoke them.
But she could contemplate this all she wanted; that didn't change their predicament.
"The suits are kept in Mecha,"she said, searching for another way out that simply wasn't there.
Bellamy couldn't stop the smugness that crept into his tone, for once being the supplier of new information. "That's where you're wrong again, Princess. There's two in a maintenance depository in Tesla."
Clarke shook her head, rattling her blonde curls. But it wasn't an action of denial. It was one of defeat. "I don't think the expression 'go float yourself' was ever meant to be taken so literally," she quipped.
Bellamy shrugged, feeling somewhat invigorated by his insane plan, like that shot of adrenaline before the inevitable fall. "The worst case scenario is we die a painful death, waste air for nothing, and consequentially float half the residents of this ship," he said.
Clarke gave him an appalling look. "And the best case scenario?"
His sudden anticipation diminished, replaced by a huge weight that fell on his shoulders and fused with every bone in his body. "That we don't."
They wouldn't be returning to the storage chamber. At least, Bellamy wouldn't be. He hoped to be in that pod soon, hurdling down to Earth and towards his sister. Guilt still unfurled inside him at the thought of abandoning the Ark to flounder, but it wasn't like he was of any necessity to its survival. The most he could do was help Clarke get that message to whoever her mother had mentioned, so that they could find some way to send out the feed and notify the people. The result of it would be up to the Council to handle; the very job it prided itself in. But it was time for the people to be given back their voice.
Though Bellamy was anxious to leave, they settled for waiting until the following morning. The hours dragged slowly and the image of his mother haunted Bellamy's dreams, how her body was carried away on the shoulders of a thousand stars.
When morning finally did come, they packed up their meager supplies and Clarke wrapped his shoulder once more, before they left the confines of the chamber.
There was a third entryway into Tesla from Agro, and Bellamy took the lead, careful not to let his anxiety cloud his ability to think. He wished he could get rid of the uniform he still wore, but that only left a blood-soaked shirt which was, unfortunately for him, more suspicious than even a guard's attire.
"Turn left," Clarke said from behind him.
"I know where I'm going."
To Bellamy's relief, no guard materialized around every corner they passed. No shouts erupted. No alarms blared. And Bellamy felt that warm hopefulness again but he shoved it away. When they slipped past Agro and into Tesla, Bellamy didn't even allow himself to relax. That had been the easy part, regardless of the sweat running down his back that suggested otherwise.
The depository was located beside a long row of black, boxy generators, the door large but unobtrusive.
Bellamy didn't even need to check; he knew it was locked.
Clarke still pointed that out to him, but Bellamy pushed her fingers out of the way with a wave of his hand, and punched in a five digit code. That smugness returned. "You're not the only one who knows how to open a door," he whispered.
Clarke said nothing, but he thought he glimpsed her look of approval.
Bellamy herded her inside, looking back once before he let the door close after them. Automatically, the circadian lights flicked on, illuminating their surroundings.
The depository itself wasn't small. It was a descent-sized room holding another slew of generators. Bellamy had been here once before, but he still didn't understand the load of equipment in the room. Spools of wires, huge steel tubes welded together. It looked like someplace he'd find in the Factory Station. Other than the generators, it didn't look like somewhere dedicated to power.
Bellamy motioned to the other side of the room. "There," he said, spotting the suits behind a pane of glass. Luckily it wasn't locked; the security on the door must have seemed good enough to the Council.
Bellamy had the maniacal urge to laugh at that.
Instead, he just pressed a button lining one side of the pane and the glass rose upwards. The suits themselves didn't look like anything special; grey and bulky and suffocating. From the corner of his eye, Bellamy caught Clarke looking at them, in what could only be fear.
It took him a second to place it, because it wasn't an emotion she seemed partial to.
Bellamy suddenly felt very awkward, compelled to say something reassuring. But there was nothing reassuring about this, other than the hope they both wouldn't be dead within the next few minutes.
He cleared his throat before grabbing one of the suits, having to tug it from the hook.
Bellamy hesitated again.
"I'll go first," he told Clarke, as he discarded the guard's uniform which revealed the huge patchwork of blood stains on it. He was sure he smelled awful, like sweat and blood and sickness, as he stripped down to his under-shirt. "This was my idea, anyway," he added. "There's no reason for us both to die if only one of us has to."
Clarke nodded but didn't say anything. She watched him, as he dropped the suit and waded into it. He pulled it up over him, and slid his arms through the leathery material. It was lighter than he expected and instead of paying his mounting worry the attention it craved, Bellamy tried to drudge up every memory from the spacewalks he'd overseen, ensuring not to miss one single detail.
"Hand me that harness over there," he ordered Clarke. She complied and he slid that over the suit, stepping around the cable connected to it. When it was buckled, Bellamy gestured to a roll of tube and Clarke handed him the end piece. He inserted it over an opening in his chest.
"Are you sure you're doing this right?" Clarke asked uncertainly.
Bellamy swallowed back a retort. "We'll see soon enough."
The last thing left was the helmet, but he turned to Clarke before putting it on. "Now you."
Clarke took a deep breath but grabbed the other suit without complaint. "I'm not taking off my clothes," she said, as she pulled out of her shoes and put on the suit. Bellamy handed her the second harness and where she couldn't manage to fasten it, he did it for her. When that was finished, Bellamy stepped up to the airlock chamber and raised the helmet over his head. He had to twist it like a bottle cap for it to seal shut.
Clarke looked at him, still gripping her own space helmet with white fingers. "As soon as you step out, the Bridge will be notified of the unauthorized use of air."
Bellamy already knew this but accepted her words nonetheless. "Which gives me about a minute to prove that the suit is functional before it's your turn."
Clarke grimaced. "Good luck."
Bellamy almost said something else, like you too, but the fear that had suddenly gripped his heart and squeezed made it difficult to speak. He stopped trying to, when the door to the airlock chamber was opening before him. Bellamy stepped inside, and into the metal box. He swallowed, the sound of his heartbeat echoing through the suit like a cavern.
"Ready?" Clarke's voice appeared around him and the effect was surprisingly calming. That one word, though, brought a surge of terror, shooting down his spine and causing his heart to pump faster.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he mumbled.
There was a hissing noise, as the final door separating him from space opened. Gravity disappeared and Bellamy nearly let out a scream as that invisible current he'd marveled at took him, nipping at his legs and pulling him out, out.
He watched as the floor beneath him disappeared, and was replaced with a carpet of stars.
The sight was nothing like it was in the Ark. He wasn't just staring at pinpricks of light, he was bathing in a sea of them, treading waves of dark velvet beneath his feet. It threaded through his fingers like ribbon and for the first time in Bellamy's life, there were no walls around him. No barrier. It was endless, infinite. Magnificently unrestrained and uncontrolled.
But beyond that, held in the palm of space, was Earth, strung up in the darkness like a beacon. Blues and greens and whorls of white expanded the surface, smeared like paint.
For a second, Bellamy forgot about dying. He forgot about air and even his own existence. It all seemed painfully small and fragile in comparison to the vastness of space; to the beauty of Earth that hovered just before him. It was right there, yet Bellamy couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that this might be the closest semblance of freedom he would ever reach.