Okay, since this fanfiction is nearing its end, I am going to be updating it less to draw it out so it lasts a little longer. I think I already know how I'm going to end it which makes me kind of sad. It's not ending yet; has a few more chapters left. This story has definitely been more of a challenge than my other ones because I'm trying to "blend" it into the original season and events that take place on the Ark. Anyway, please review! I love you guys!
Bellamy was dead.
Or so he thought, the moment he opened his eyes and was greeted by darkness. Maybe the galaxy had swallowed him and he was now suspended in that precarious in-between of life and death. If he was, than he wasn't passing fast enough. Or worse; maybe this was death, a place of perpetual blackness, and that was the thought that truly, truly scared him.
Bellamy was on the brink of panicking when something flickered in his periphery and he looked over. A dozen meters from him lay torn wires, frayed ends sparking with light. Death would have no use for wires and the fear of him actually being dead suddenly drained out of him. No, he was definitely alive, but Bellamy couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing yet. Who was to say how long he'd been out?
Bellamy tried to move, and became conscious of a weight pressing against his abdomen. Gingerly, he moved his hands and feet to make sure nothing was broken before shoving off the debris that had landed on him. His entire body ached like one massive contusion as he sat up.
He coughed. "Clarke?"
Silence.
"Clarke?"
A sound of something being shifted came from his right and Bellamy turned his head towards it just as a small voice said, "here."
He quickly stood up, unconcerned with the momentary dizziness and moved over to her. Clarke was lying in the middle of the corridor, encircled with more debris and...bodies. Not many; two or three, but Bellamy didn't need to look any closer to know they were dead.
Bellamy pulled Clarke out of the rubble and his hands subconsciously roved down her arms. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but feeling that she was here seemed to calm whatever it was inside him. His hands reached her shoulders. "You okay?"
The backup generator kicked in then. It wasn't much but it was enough for him to see her somewhat clearly under a ghostly light. Though grime caked Clarke's face and a thin veil of dirt dusted her hair, like him she was alive, and that made the mess of her state a welcomed sight.
She nodded. "Terrific. You?"
Bellamy smiled, but it fell from him almost instantly, very aware of the dead watching him. "Fine. Not sure how much longer that will last for."
Though she could stand on her own, Clarke didn't move away from him just yet, staying there for a moment longer than necessary until she finally drew back. "We have to find the others," she said, but Bellamy heard the implication. If there's anyone else to find.
"Yeah," he agreed. "It'll be just our luck to be the last living people on a failing ship." The words were cold and they tasted bitter, but Bellamy was entitled to some bitterness. They both were. If he'd thought the Ark was a ticking clock before, now it was a grenade. And every second, the pin came closer and closer to being pulled.
Clarke took a deep breath as she took in their surroundings, pausing on the corpses. "We haven't died yet, Bellamy," she murmured quietly. "And believe me, we've had plenty of opportunities to."
"So either we're meant to be alive, or something just really really wants us dead."
She pursed her lips, finally looking away from the bodies and towards the corridor, squinting to see it more clearly. "I prefer the first one."
"All right then." Bellamy gestured with the tilt of his head at the corridor. "Lets hurry up. We don't know how stable this place is."
As they started walking, Bellamy tried to get some grip of where he was. He knew they were close to the Mess Hall and still on Alpha, but as of where exactly, he was unable to pinpoint. It was strange how foreign the ship had become in the absence of light and people and the symphony of footsteps echoing down the corridors. Now it was just barren, as if the Ark had been turned inside out.
Unconsciously, Bellamy softened his pace, listening intently for any signs of life. Not too long ago, they'd been surrounded by people. But apparently in the flurry of panic, he and Clarke had separated from most of them. Occasionally he spotted another body. The flash of dark liquid smeared across the floor. Clarke checked for a pulse on every one of them before resuming the search.
They were about to cross into another corridor, as dark and seemingly vacant as the others, when Clarke suddenly held up her hand. "Wait."
Bellamy stilled, trying to follow her gaze. "What?"
Clarke backtracked, turning around and making a sharp left. She drew up short. "That."
Bellamy strode up beside her, eyes landing on a limp figure just as Clark dropped to her knees. The stranger was lying on their back, a halo of dark hair circling her head. She was young, which made it that much worse when Bellamy registered the fragments of metal punching through her chest.
It reminded Bellamy of those pictures of butterflies, their wings stretched out and pinned with those small nails. If it weren't for the hushed whimper coming from their lips, Bellamy would've thought the person dead. He wished for their sake they were.
Bellamy wanted to look away. As Clarke inspected the grisly scene, he wanted to turn around and scrub this image from his mind, but his eyes wouldn't listen. Something about it transfixed him. It was too surreal. Too ugly and was more unfathomable than floating in a sea of stars.
A gurgling noise came from the stranger and it was enough to snap Bellamy out of his thoughts. "Am I...Am I going-going to die?"
Bellamy glanced at Clarke who was still staring at the wound. He waited for her neutral expression to waiver. For some glimmer of doubt to give her away. But it didn't come. "You're okay," Clarke said, voice cajoling. "You're okay."
"It...hurts."
She nodded. "I know. I know it does. But I can make it go away."
Doctors weren't supposed to lie, Bellamy thought. They weren't supposed to entertain false hopes and they definitely, under no circumstances, were allowed to dole out promises.
But then Clarke looked at him. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head and it was right then that Bellamy understood. But I can make it go away.
Bellamy didn't say anything. He didn't try to dissuade Clarke as she located a small, jagged piece of metal. He just watched as one of her hands stroked the girl's hair while the other clutched the makeshift blade.
"Make-make it go away," the girl begged, blood bubbling up in the corners of her mouth. "Please."
Clarke drew in a slow breath, angling the piece of metal so it wasn't in the girl's line of sight. "I'm going to. Right now, okay?"
Bellamy felt out of place, like he needed to do something. A sudden urge to step closer to this dying girl overpowered the desire to leave and he knelt beside her, just above her head. Clarke raised the tip of the jagged metal to the girl's throat.
That's when Bellamy started humming. The melody was gruff, and though he wasn't the best at mimicking the notes and never once knew the lyrics, it was something that had never failed to calm Octavia when she was scared. Bellamy hoped it did the same for this girl.
He kept his eyes on Clarke this time, ignoring the small puncture she made with the sharp utensil. Ignoring the slowing of the girl's breaths. Ignoring the stillness of her chest that followed shortly after.
They walked on in silence. Clarke kept her eyes ahead as Bellamy scoped out the corridors that branched to their left and right. He tried not to think of bodies and blood and jagged metal fragments as he did, hoping that the next Arker they found would be alive, and that they'd stay that way.
When they passed into Mecha, Bellamy's bad joke of being the last living people on the Ark was starting to seem like a real possibility. He would never admit to it out loud, but he felt scared. To distract himself, he turned his focus on Clarke, who still kept her gaze forward.
If her actions with the girl were bothering her, she didn't visibly show it, but Bellamy knew better. "That took a lot of courage to do that, Clarke," he whispered.
Her gaze flickered to his, lips pressed into a thin line. "It didn't feel like courage."
He studied her intently, gauging that hollowed look in her eyes. "No," he said. "It shouldn't."
The echo of something that sounded like footsteps caught Bellamy's focus, drifting down from the next corridor over. Thoughts of dying girls and mercy killings vanished. With one look at Clarke confirming he didn't imagine it, they broke into a sprint. The noise of shuffling feet grew louder, soon accompanied by voices and both him and Clarke came to an abrupt halt when they reached the end of a corridor, stunned to find it filled with people. Living, breathing people.
There had to have been around half a dozen and the ones who weren't frozen in terror met their eyes. Bellamy didn't recognize which Stations they were from, but that didn't really matter to him. He just wanted enough people alive to be able to do something about a doomed ship.
"...Take them to the Mess Hall," someone was saying. The words came from the back, beyond the small cluster of people and whatever momentary relief Bellamy had felt diminished. He knew that voice.
Through the thin crowd, Bellamy was able to make out the features of Marcus Kane, standing in front of a blockage, choking the corridor. Poles and broken plates of steel were piled up, sealing this corridor off from the other. The Councilor was arguing with someone else, someone Bellamy didn't recognize.
"No," Marcus Kane hissed, "That is an order."
It was selfish, but Bellamy was almost grateful for the ship's condition; he may have had the concern of dying from oxygen deprivation, but at least he didn't need to worry about being floated.
"Blake?" he caught his name whispered quietly by a few people, coupled with "Griffin" and "Chancellor Jaha."
It was enough to draw Kane's attention off the man he was arguing with and the crowd parted as he stepped away from the debris. His eyes landed on Bellamy, who didn't look away. There was a look of surprise on his face, quickly followed by an expression of feigned civility.
Bellamy didn't move or back down as Kane came to a halt just a foot away from him, appraising him with almost mock approval.
"Bellamy Blake," Kane said, making his name sound like something distasteful. "I thought you were left in the Prison Station. I'm surprised you aren't dead."
Bellamy stood a little straighter. "Don't you mean disappointed?"
Kane ignored the jab, his dark eyes staring Bellamy down. Or trying to. "You shouldn't be here."
"You can blame your fellow Council buddy for that."
Kane looked as if he wanted nothing more than to shove Bellamy into an airlock chamber and open the doors, but before he even had the chance to say anything, Clarke stepped in between them. "You shouldn't do this here."
Kane didn't look away from Bellamy, but his words were directed at her and they sounded annoyed. "This doesn't concern you, Miss Griffin."
Clarke had a different opinion. "It doesn't concern him or me or you." She motioned towards their small group. "This doesn't concern anyone. Not at this time, at least, because something tells me that all of us have bigger problems to worry about."
Bellamy looked at her at the same moment Kane did. "Your mother is a strong woman," he said. "I would have never expected her daughter to be so easily corrupted."
Bellamy's hands curled into fists, a feeling of protectiveness coming over him. But Clarke knew how to speak; he knew she wouldn't want him doing it for her.
As if to prove him right, Clarke smirked. "And it's clear you don't know the other Councilors as well as you thought you did."
Kane didn't quite smile but it was close, the expression tantalizing as if he were scorning a child. "You're aiding an abetting a wanted criminal. You yourself are a criminal. And I will not have criminals around these innocent people. As you said they already have enough to worry about." Kane looked back at Bellamy, disdain in his eyes. "Without having someone like him around to worsen their panic."
"Yes, we broke the law," Clarke admitted, "But being a member of the Council doesn't make your crimes any better. It just makes them legal."
"He attempted to take the life of the Chancellor," Kane pointed out, voice loud enough to where those in the back could hear it.
"Shumway-" Clarke started, but for this Bellamy cut her off.
"Shumway gave me the gun," he said, monotone. "Shumway, the leader of your Guard, was working with Sydney. I just wanted on the dropship."
Kane's expression gave nothing away. "Even if that were true, it doesn't change the fact that you were the one who fired the shot."
"And he's the one that imprisoned my sister for existing. He's the one that had my mother floated," Bellamy said, his impassivity cracking. "Being even doesn't begin to cover it."
That last part probably didn't help his case but Bellamy didn't care. So he had been relieved when he discovered that the Chancellor hadn't died by his hand. But that didn't mean he wished him well either.
Kane was about to say something else when he was interrupted by the man he'd been arguing with earlier. "You should know that this whole deck is an electrical fire waiting to happen."
Kane cast a cursory glance at him. "That's why you need to lead these people out of here. Please." He turned back to Bellamy, but Clarke was the one who spoke.
"We don't have time for this," she snapped. "Look, Diana Sydney is a killer and she was on the Council. She was right there sitting next to you every day but you didn't even notice. And yet you're willing to make the same judgement call on someone you don't even know? Someone who risked his life just to get to his sister because of the position you put him in? Someone who kept the blood of three hundred people off your hands by helping to get my father's message through the Ark?"
Clarke took a step closer, dissolving the space between her and Kane. "This isn't about laws anymore. This, right now, is about surviving the next few hours. So why doesn't the Council stop handing out death sentences and start trying to keep people alive for once?"
Bellamy stared at the back of Clarke's head, surprised by her outburst. She was standing up for him and not because she had to, but because she actually agreed with what she was saying.
Kane's gaze bored into hers but Clarke didn't look away. He stayed there for another second before turning back to the blocked door. "Mess Hall," he barked at the other man. "Go. Go."
Bellamy watched as the guy who couldn't have been much older than him began herding the people down the corridor. But then he hesitated and turned back around. "So you're going to save everyone but yourself?" the guy asked incredulously. "This is nuts."
The contempt drained from Kane's features and he looked somber, voice low. He said something but Bellamy couldn't make it out. When he was finished, the Counselor walked back to the blockage and started pulling in an attempt to move it.
But it didn't budge and Bellamy stood there for a moment, undecided. He could guess that more people were probably on the other side of the debris and walking away, even if it was from Kane, didn't feel right. Sitting and waiting in the Mess Hall seemed pointless. And waiting as more people died was just wrong.
"I'll catch up with you," he said to Clarke. Then Bellamy walked up beside Kane to the blockage and gripped a broken frame of something in his hands.
Kane cast him a sidelong look, but if he was planning on making some quip, he held it back. "Don't think that this makes me trust you," the older man said.
"Good, because I'm not doing this for you." Bellamy pulled on the frame and though he heard the metal groan, it still didn't move.
He tried again, just as more hands appeared on either side of him and Bellamy looked to his right, meeting Clarke's eyes. He wasn't even surprised that she'd stayed. They had all stayed, and eight pairs of hands was enough to move the mesh of debris out of the way.
Beyond it was a door and again, with a few of the strongest there, Bellamy included, they were able to wedge it open. Heat blasted from the opening, stinging Bellamy's face and drying out his corneas.
"We can take it from here," Kane said, as he slipped through the door. The others retracted, satisfied with their accomplishment. They seemed to hesitate, but then the sudden eruption of sparks behind them was enough to coax them back down the way they'd come.
Bellamy stayed where he was, as did Clarke. "Not going to the Mess Hall?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "This is Earth Monitoring. My mom could be in here."
Well if she was going in, Bellamy thought, he definitely was. So he took the lead, Clarke following close behind as the heat engulfed them. The room was horribly uncomfortable, stifling and humid. Even the air, what little here there was, seemed to stick to the back of his throat.
Now that Bellamy knew exactly where he was, he recognized the room of Earth Monitoring. Screens decorated the far wall, some of their faces flickering, others black. Counters of controls and buttons rose around him, chairs and shattered glass strewn across the floor.
Bellamy's eyes landed on the unconscious figures lying, unmoving, at his feet. The guy Bellamy's age had retrieved oxygen masks from the other corridor and started distributing them, holding one to the man under one of the desks.
Bellamy didn't really know what to do. As Clarke slid smoothly into her role as physician, he was a bit slower in taking one of the masks and pestering some of the people to breathe. He named off the ones he recognized: Sinclair, Banes, an electrical technician whose name he'd forgotten after months of being demoted. Bellamy inexplicably harbored resentment for each of them, but he was quick to remind himself that these people were their best chance at fixing the Ark. Or coming up with another course of action, preferably one that included them all surviving this.
Bellamy looked around the room, past Clarke and the others, gaze pausing on Kane and the mask he held up to...Jaha.
That resentment inside Bellamy doubled, and though he was grateful for not having the word murderer permanently stamped over his head, that did nothing to ease the hate he felt towards Thelonious Jaha.
Yet again, here was the man who had thrown his sister into the Sky Box. Who'd had his mother floated. After seeing him in the Mess Hall, a small part of Bellamy had actually wished Jaha had died. Wished for one fleeting second, that he'd succeeded in killing the Ark's Chancellor.
But no. Instead, he'd just helped save his life.