a/n Thanks for your lovely reviews on that last chapter - I hope you're enjoying the Octavia drama. Happy reading!
It is still very early when Echo wakes in Ivon's bunk the following morning, distinctly uncomfortable for reasons that extend far beyond the physical awkwardness of being crammed into this tiny space with a person she suddenly realises is a near stranger. There is also the unpleasant understanding that there are other people in this dorm who must know exactly what they did last night, and the sickening realisation that Raven must have worked out exactly where she has spent the night.
At that, she bolts from the bed and starts throwing clothes on, using all the stealth of her spy training to avoid waking Ivon and having to explain her sudden flight. She knows running back to the tent she should have shared with Raven will achieve little. She knows that the damage is already done. But all the same, she feels a burning need to get out of here.
She doesn't remember much of her journey to Ivon's dorm the previous night. Perhaps she was too drunk, she wonders, or perhaps it was the darkness, of perhaps she was just distracted by the unfamiliar sensation of feeling wanted. But she's noticing now, as she pads on light feet through the corridors, that it's a pretty damn miserable place. The lights are low, as are the ceilings, and everything seems to be this same dispiriting shade of industrial grey that makes her suddenly grateful for the surprisingly optimistic life they lived in space.
But then, all of a sudden, she finds the corridors opening out into an area that is decidedly not grey. The enormous vaulted entrance hall before her is illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun spilling through the open door, and its walls are awash with layer upon layer of dark stains.
She knows what those stains are straight away, of course. Anyone would, if they had lived her life, had grown up as an Azgeda warrior. But all the same, she can't quite believe it. She wastes precious seconds in inspecting the walls and the floor and the stairs and even the handrails more closely. Most of the stains are old, and she thinks that is a relief, but she isn't entirely sure. It doesn't seem much better, all things considered, if whatever it is that has gone so wrong here went wrong long ago rather than only yesterday.
But then, against the far wall, she sees a rather fresher patch, gleaming, glistening, in the weak morning light. Gently, fearfully, she reaches out to brush its dampness with her fingers, observes with a certain detachment the droplets that trickle along a crack in the plaster.
She needs to get out of here. She needs to hide her face in Raven's chest and never, ever, leave. She needs to tell Clarke and Bellamy that there is something wrong, that they have to fix it and make it all go away.
She needs to leave this place where the walls are dripping with blood.
…...
Clarke is not surprised to find Bellamy already awake when she resurfaces from sleep. For the most part, over the last five years, she has continued to be the earlier riser of the two of them, even if she no longer goes in for pre-dawn angry gym sessions. But if ever there was a time that Bellamy would be struggling to sleep in, she supposes this would be it. It is painfully obvious that all has not been well in the bunker, that Octavia is hardly one for chasing butterflies any more. She has noticed, too, that her mother is behaving oddly, but she finds that it bothers her less than she might have expected. She has a new family, now, and for all that she still cares about her mother, she is no longer her priority.
No, her priority is her children, and their safety, and Bellamy, and his sanity.
She kisses him good morning, a kiss that lingers longer than their usual morning greetings, and instinctively she draws closer and wraps her arms about him. They sit, a tangle of limbs, and gaze out of the door of the tent at the rising sun which dyes the rubble around them with a rusty red glow.
"What are you thinking?" She asks without preamble.
"I'm thinking I should talk to her." He says without hesitation. "There's obviously something wrong here, and Kane was less than helpful. But we need to know, before we welcome them into the valley with open arms, if they've all become mass-murderers or something."
She thinks he was trying to say that flippantly, but it sounds all too plausible, based on the look in Miller's eyes.
"I'm just worried, Bellamy, that if you start asking questions, and there is something dangerous going on here – well, you'd be putting yourself in danger."
"But if I don't ask the questions, am I leaving the kids in danger? You saw how she summoned Gus last night."
"Yes. Yes, that was frightening."
"I think -" He breaks off abruptly at the sight of Echo sprinting towards them, a panicked look on her face which Clarke finds doesn't suit her at all well. She's never seen this intimidating woman look anything less than in control of herself.
"What does she want?" She murmurs to Bellamy, because it is at least a little surprising that the only member of Spacekru with whom they have no real reason to be on particularly good terms should be running straight for their tent.
"This can't be good." It seems that is the only response she is to get.
"Clarke. Bellamy. Thank goodness you're awake." Echo pants as soon as she is within earshot.
"What on Earth is wrong?" Clarke asks, ever to the point.
"There's blood." Echo says, fear sharp in her eyes, as if that is a useful answer.
"Blood?" Bellamy repeats.
"Blood. So much blood. There's this – atrium? A big circle. Platforms overlooking it. And there's blood everywhere."
"What do you mean? Has someone had an accident?" Clarke rushes to ask, ever the doctor. Perhaps this is why Echo was so keen to fetch her.
"Not an accident, no. I don't mean a bit of blood." Echo clarifies, growing gradually more controlled in her breathing and speech. "I mean an enormous amount of blood. It's a huge room, and there are stains absolutely all over it, hundreds of deaths worth of blood, and some of them look old and some of them – some of it's fresh."
"Fresh?" Bellamy gasps the word she is thinking.
"Fresh. Wet." She stretches out a hand towards them, and for the first time Clarke notices the sticky rust-coloured tips of her fingers. "Recent."
"I'm going to talk to Octavia." Bellamy declares, and jumps to his feet, and Clarke panics at how quickly things seem to be taking this turn for the worse.
"No, Bellamy. You can't."
He turns at the fear in her voice and cups her cheek in his hand. "If I can't talk to her, Clarke, who can? She's my sister. I have to try."
"But what if – what if Echo's right. What if she hurts you?" She can't quite bring herself to ask about the possibility that his sister might have him killed.
"It'll be OK, Clarke. Wake the kids and get them ready to go in case we have to leave in a hurry. Wake our friends, too." He is already pulling on a jacket and stepping out into the dawn, and she jumps to her feet to press a kiss of farewell to his lips.
"I love you." She reminds him, because she senses that he might need to be able to remember that, where he's going.
"I love you, too." He tells her, and then he is gone.
She sits down heavily on the blanket that still holds his scent and wonders if, perhaps, that might have been a sensible moment for a bit of may we meet again. She breathes, carefully, for a few moments and tries to convince herself to get on with waking the children.
"I'd better go." Echo says, obviously uncomfortable. "I'll wake up John and Emori, if you get Monty and Harper?"
"Sure." She finds that she is pleased to be reminded of her role, reminded to get on with the task at hand.
"And I'll get Raven." Echo says with obvious difficulty, and Clarke thinks back to the sight of her sitting with Ivon at the campfire last night and starts to put together the pieces of that particular puzzle.
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure. If Bellamy can go and face his sister, after all this – well, surely I can face Raven this morning."
She has to admit, it doesn't sound like Echo is all that convinced, but all the same she disappears into the rising sun.
…...
Raven knows that it is stupid to be upset. She always knew what would happen when the bunker opened, she reminds herself. She always knew that some good catch who was brave and strong and whole would catch Echo's eye, and she'd be sitting here, wide awake, tangled in her blankets and wondering about laying the breakfast table alone.
Well, the metaphorical breakfast table. She is in a tent, after all. But the point is that the woman she has lived with – in a mostly platonic way, she tries to tell herself – for the last five years has spent the night with someone else and that is absolutely, totally, and completely fine. It is as expected. It is not worth getting upset about.
But she is upset all the same.
She hears footsteps approaching and dashes her hand angrily across her eyes, trying and failing to remove the evidence of her tears.
"Raven?" Echo's voice is soft, and tentative, and warm, all of the things that she loves that this woman can be, but which she hides from the world so well. Loves? That can't be right, she admonishes herself.
"Echo."
"You're awake?"
"Yeah. Didn't sleep much." She informs the threadbare blanket which lies wrinkled in her lap.
"Me neither."
"Well, obviously. How is dear Ivon?"
"Terrible. Is that what you want to hear? That it was a huge mistake? Obviously." Echo sounds bitter, she thinks, and she doesn't see what grounds there is for that when she is the one who was left in this tent alone.
"Good." She says, trying to sound smug but succeeding only, she realises, in sounding a bit confused. It isn't particularly satisfying, it turns out, learning that Echo's night was not a success.
"Whatever. We don't have time for this. We need to get ready to leave."
"What?" She finds herself shocked out of her jealousy. Or anger. Or whatever this is.
"We might need to leave in a hurry. Get yourself ready."
"We might? Why?"
"I – I saw something. When I was running back from Ivon's to find you, if you must know. Something awful. Bellamy's gone to check it out, and we're meeting Clarke, and we need to be ready to go." With that, Echo grabs her one pack of belongings and makes to leave the tent again.
"Wait. Please." She's not used to begging Echo for things, and she doesn't much like it. But there's clearly something seriously wrong here, and she can't help but feel that it might be a good idea to take her in her arms and look after her a little. "Won't you tell me what's really going on? What was it that was so bad? Are you – are you OK?"
"I'm fine." She lies through her teeth. "Now get your stuff and let's go."
"Echo. I'm getting my stuff." She makes a show of pulling her pack towards her and shoving a few bits and pieces in it at random. "Now sit down and tell me what's wrong."
"I can't." She says, a panicked look in her eye as she turns towards the door of the tent. "I told Clarke I'd go back and -"
"Bullshit." Intending to turn her back away from the door, Raven reaches out to take her hand.
And recoils, shocked, at the wet stain that smears across her fingers.
"Raven -" Echo sounds almost broken, she thinks, at not at all her usual confident self.
"What is this?" She asks with perfect control, although she already knows the answer rather too well.
"Blood."
"Why? How?"
"There's a – a room. And it's covered. Absolutely covered – in blood. And I don't know how. And -"
At that, the bravest woman she knows breaks down into sobs. And, well, sure, she didn't come home last night. And, yes, Raven's still upset about that – of course she is. But Echo seems so distraught and, really, there is only one good response to this.
She reaches out and pulls her into an embrace.
…...
Bellamy thinks that, perhaps, he has never been this scared before. Or, at least, he has not been this scared for quite some time. Sure, he was nervous when Clarke was in labour, but there were no concerning complications. He thinks that to get even remotely close to his current anxieties he'd have to cast his mind back to that awful day when she disappeared from the bunker to go dig out the rover, leaving only a crummy note behind her. And even then, it was only Clarke's life at stake. That was bad enough, of course, but now he has his children to worry about too and really, this is all fast approaching overwhelming.
If he gets this wrong, he could die. But if he gets this wrong enough, everyone he cares about could die, too. So much is obvious to him, even if he has yet to work out why exactly his sister has been decorating the walls of her home with blood. And blood it certainly is, and Echo was certainly not lying about the quantity. He thinks it is probably more blood than he has ever seen in his life before, and he once took part in a massacre of three hundred.
He knocks firmly on the door of Octavia's quarters and sighs in relief when it is Miller who answers. Miller is his old friend. He is fair, and loyal, and he will not be in danger as long as Miller is by his side.
"Bellamy? Why are you here?" He sounds absolutely shocked, and rather hostile. So much for his old friend.
"I need to see Octavia. Urgently."
"Bloodreina is not available at the moment." The robot who seems to have replaced Miller responds.
"Bloodreina?" He heard the word floating around in whispers yesterday, wondered who this supposed red queen could be. He never imagined it could be what they call his sister, these days.
"Bloodreina." Miller repeats tonelessly. "I will tell her you called. But first, let me take you back to your camp."
"No, thank you." He is not about to be hustled out of here so easily, not about to let them lead him away from the rest of their dirty secrets. "I'm her brother. I'll wait here until she is ready to see me."
"Bloodreina doesn't take orders from you."
"I'm not giving an order to Bloodreina. I'm giving a request to my sister." With that, he sits himself on the concrete next to her door and prepares for a long wait.
He prepares in vain. Barely a handful of minutes have passed when Miller reappears and informs him that he is to be admitted to see his sister, and he takes a deep breath and follows him through the door. This is it, he realises. There is no going back from his decision to walk across this threshold. He is confronting her simply by being here at all, by seeing the bloodstains, by insisting on admittance.
It makes a change – and an unpleasant one at that – to be facing such a momentous moment without Clarke by his side.
"Big brother." Octavia greets him with what he supposes is meant as a smile, but the expression sits heavily on her face.
"Octavia." He greets her as he takes a seat, because whilst she is no longer truly O, he will not be calling his own kin Bloodreina any time soon.
"What's so urgent? I was told that you had to speak to me immediately."
He takes a deep breath, and thinks of Clarke, and of the children. He promised himself he would not dissemble, and he needs to keep his word.
"The atrium. Why is it covered in blood?" Her face shows not so much as a flicker of reaction at his words, and he notes that she was ready for this. She must have known, after all, as soon as he showed up here, that he had seen it on his way.
"Because people bled there."
"Hmm. Yes. Who? Why?"
"People who deserved to be punished. People who threatened our survival."
"So – what – it's a sanction? Law enforcement?"
She blinks once, slowly. "Yes."
"You keep people in line by putting them in there to fight?"
"The Pit is no worse than floating." She says with a shrug that appears to require a little too much effort.
"And the people you send to this Pit – they die, I'm guessing?"
"Someone always survives. Hope is important."
"How many people have died there?"
"Many." For the first time, he thinks he sees a crack in her mask. "Would you like their names?"
"Their names?"
"I remember them. I remember every single one of them." She tells him, and that crack is definitely growing wider, he notes, as her lips begin to tremble.
"What are their crimes?" He presses on.
"Theft. Disobedience. Rebellion. Anything that threatens our survival, threatens Wonkru."
"So you kill people who threaten you?"
"No. I make them kill each other."
He stares her down, his furrowed brows making it quite clear that the one is no better than the other, is no different.
"Yes. I kill people who threaten me." She acknowledges, lips trembling violently now, but he does not allow himself to soften at the sight. He has got the answer he needs. He does want to do something about all this, of course he does, wants to correct her somehow, help her to remember to be human, but the survival of his family has to come first.
"Thank you for your honesty." He tells her neutrally as he stands to depart. "I'll leave you to your morning."
"What? How – why?" She splutters in some distress, before stilling suddenly. He sees the moment she puts it all together, and her eyes go wide in horror. "No – Bell – you can't think that? I never would, Bell, I swear. He's your son. And my nephew, my own flesh and blood – how could you think I would?"
"You just told me you kill people who threaten you."
"But – not your son." She sounds genuinely devastated by the idea, he notes in a detached sort of a way, and he's not really sure how this development will affect their plans. "He's a nightblood, yes, but the time for conclaves is over. And he's absolutely adorable. And I love him already."
As the tears start to roll down her cheeks, he can almost believe it is the truth. But there is something more urgent to be worried about first, he decides.
"And my daughter? What about Madi?"
Octavia pauses for just a fraction too long.
"The same goes for her, too, of course."
a/n Thanks for reading!