a/n Reviewers are wonderful people, and I thank them for saying lovely things about the last chapter of this story. This is quite a fluffy one - happy reading!

Clarke thinks that she is probably relieved that Octavia is shaking Madi's hand. And certainly, the fact that the leader of Wonkru is looking at her young daughter with respect rather than hostility is certainly progress. But in the face of the mess of anxiety and anger currently littering her mind, it seems the relief is struggling to break through. She's not used to being angry with Bellamy, and it seems to be taking its toll on her ability to think straight.

"Spare us the drama, Octavia." Bellamy sounds almost as displeased as she feels. "Let's get on with this meeting. It'll take your people between a week and ten days to march to the valley. Avoid the desert. We'll take the rover back and see you when you get there."

"You're not staying with us?"

"We'll go ahead and get the rest of the homes in the village ready for your people." He says it tonelessly, as if, she thinks, hoping that keeping his voice carefully neutral will convince his sister he's not running away from her. "We can always do some extra runs in the rover to pick up any essential equipment you can't carry."

"OK. Yes. Of course."

"We'll make your people feel welcome." Clarke feels she is probably supposed to say something ostensibly friendly.

"Yes. I look forward to it. So you'll leave tomorrow morning?"

Clarke is about to agree when Bellamy reminds her why it is, exactly, that she loves him quite so much.

"We were planning to leave now, actually. We've still got enough daylight to get back there today."

"Now?"

"Yes. But we'll see you again soon. You'll be home before you know it." She hears his voice soften just a little at the look on the face of this young woman who suddenly looks like his sister again in her sadness, and reaches out to squeeze his hand.

"OK. Well, if you're sure."

"Yes. We're... we're all keen to get home, I think."

"Of course. I understand." She stands, and Clarke takes that as her cue to do the same while Madi does likewise. "Bellamy... would you – could I speak to you, first? Just for a moment?"

He looks to her for reassurance, and she nods ever so slightly before walking the children to the door, Miller hot on their heels.

"Sure."

The last thing she sees as the door closes is the forced smile he directs at the woman formerly known as Octavia Blake.

…...

Octavia feels the floor give way beneath her feet at the news that her brother is to go home immediately, that he can't even bear to be in her presence long enough to stay the night and drive in the morning. She can't let him leave now, not like this. She needs him. She needs him to ground her, remind her who she used to be. And she needs him to hold her together and offer his unconditional protection.

But it seems he's a bit preoccupied with doing those things for his new family, now.

"What is it, Octavia?" He asks, briskly but not unkindly.

"I just thought – I wanted to invite you to stay. You could stay with me, and walk to the valley with us. Meet up with the others later."

"No, I'll stay with Clarke and the kids." She half expected him to say he'd stay with his family, but at least he seems to realise that would be insensitive.

She knows that's what he means, anyway. And she wonders if, maybe, it's time to admit defeat. A warrior knows when she is beaten, when it's time to pause, regroup and try again.

"OK. I understand."

"Good – I – I love them. So much. And I love Clarke, and she hates Polis. Too many ghosts. I need to go home with her." She is not so preoccupied with her own concerns that she cannot see the worry in his eyes as he stands up and makes clear his intention to leave.

"I get that, big brother. I'll see you soon." She knows what she needs to say next, strengthens her resolve, sets her jaw. "I'm happy for you, Bellamy. Really."

"Thanks, O." She almost breaks down at that, suddenly overwhelmed at the realisation that this one gesture of humanity was all that was ever needed for her to be O once more. "I'll see you next week."

He surprises her by pulling her in for a firm hug before he leaves the room.

…...

They arrive home without mishap, and eat a less than inspiring meal Bellamy has scrounged together from their food stores. He will need to take out a hunting party tomorrow, he notes, and he will be only too glad to do so. It will do him good to get out and stretch his legs after those days of feeling trapped in Polis.

He puts the children to bed while Clarke unpacks the rover – or rather, he tries to put the children to bed. Madi is having none of his fatherly meddling. She has apparently decided that, if she is old enough to face down her fearsome aunt, she is old enough to deploy her younger brother's pyjamas without assistance.

"Go speak to Clarke." She recommends wisely but, he thinks, at least a little tactlessly, while she locates a story to read to Gus. "She needs you more right now that we do. Remind her we're OK and Octavia doesn't seem to want us dead, yet."

It's a good thing, of course, that his daughter is not frightened, but he thinks that in this situation a little more healthy caution might be advisable.

"She's right to be worried about you, you know."

"Yes. She is, that's what mothers do. But she's not right to be angry at you for making a sensible decision."

"I understand why she was upset though." He feels the need, somehow, to defend the woman he loves, even to their own child.

"Don't you think you ought to go and tell her that?" Madi recommends with a quirked brow, and he admits defeat.

With a chuckle and a fair amount of hugging he bids the children goodnight and goes to seek out their mother. He finds her in their bedroom, unpacking bags and folding clothes.

"That was quick." Clarke glances up on his arrival.

"Yeah. Madi insisted she'd got it. She thought I should be out here telling you that I understand why you were upset."

"She's a bright girl."

"She takes after her mother."

"Flattery isn't going to get you out of this one." She tells him, her tone playful, but he can hear the truth beneath her words.

"I know." He says, and reaches out to take her hand. He reckons that a little physical affection is more important, right now, than the shirt she is folding. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing, but I didn't mean to dismiss your worries about the kids."

"I know." She echoes. "I think you probably were doing the right thing, actually. I just really hate Polis at the best of times."

"I know you do." He soothes gently, and pulls her a little closer. "That's what I told O."

"What?"

"When she wanted to see me this morning. She was trying to get me to stay with her but – I told her I needed to come home with you."

"Thank you." She closes the distance between them at last and steps into his embrace.

"I love you." He whispers into the top of her head, because he likes to remind her.

"I love you, too." She murmurs back, dropping a soft kiss onto the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

And that is all the permission he needs, really, to get on with showing her just how much he has missed her in recent days. It's all very well, going on camping trips and spending almost every minute of every day together, but it's not the same as this togetherness, in the privacy of their own home, kids in bed and friends behind closed doors. He has missed being able to talk openly with her, without risk of eavesdroppers, and he has missed being able to touch every inch of her skin.

He bends his neck to kiss her, softly at first, but Clarke doesn't let him prevaricate for long. Her lips are moving hungrily against his, and her hands have already found their way up his shirt, and it isn't long before her trousers seem to have been lost by the wayside and he's reminding her that she's incredible.

The whole experience is pretty incredible, really. He's heard that make-up sex is supposed to be good, yet until now he's never really experienced it. After all, they don't make a habit of falling out. But this one evening has him utterly convinced that, in fact, those people were telling the absolute truth.

…...

Raven's still angry, Echo notes, but that's hardly news. Raven gets angry a lot. It's one of her defining features, that fierceness that burns inside of her, and it's one of the things that makes her at least a little awe-inspiring.

But it also makes her infuriating. And difficult to get close to, and even more difficult to apologise to. So it is that, when Raven announces to the remnants of Spacekru still sitting round the fire that she is going to bed, Echo makes no attempt whatsoever to follow. She knows it will do her little good to go and try to play happy families tonight. No, tonight is a night for sitting up and keeping vigil over those she loves and wondering whether it is her fate to be always, essentially, alone.

There are only Harper and Monty left now, lost in each other's eyes in that sickeningly adorable way that they have. She supposes it is only a matter of time until the pair of them take their beautiful relationship home to their beautiful blue-painted cottage.

"I'll see you in a bit." Harper's voice breaks through her reverie. "I'll stay up with Echo for a little while."

She will? That's news. They're close, of course, as they have been ever since they first hit it off on the Ring five years ago, but her friend hasn't often chosen to stay up with her over sleeping with Monty. And based on the looks on all of these ridiculous couples' faces as they look forward to their first night at home after a low-privacy camping adventure, she's pretty sure that's what is on the schedule for her friends, tonight. So she can't really fathom why Harper is making a priority of hanging around to chat to her now.

"What's wrong?" Her friend asks softly as soon as Monty is out of earshot.

Echo shrugs. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on." Harper sounds almost angry, she thinks. "I like to think I know you better than that by now. You only stay up when you're upset, these days. And Raven's looking at you like a kicked puppy -"

"She is?" Echo interrupts, incredulous, because that would imply that she's hurt rather than only angry, and that would imply she actually cares, and, well, that would be incredibly good news.

"Yes. She is." Harper sighs and offers her a half smile. "You know she's a bit slow to forgive, Echo. She'll get there. You'll get there."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're not fooling me. Neither of you are fooling me. I love you both but – you're two of the most screwed up people I know, I think. No offence. With the things you've both been through, it's no wonder you both find it a bit tricky to love."

She giggles at that, because she thinks that two of the most screwed up people I know is putting it a bit mildly. "You might have a point."

"Go on. Staying up late torturing yourself doesn't suit you. Go home."

"Yeah." She nods briskly. She has a lot of respect for Harper's opinions, and if Harper thinks that she should go home, it seems silly to refuse. "I think I will."

…...

Raven doesn't know what she wanted from this evening, but she knows that this isn't it. She's sort of got used to Echo following her round like a loyal and rather formidable shadow over the last couple of years and she's been unpleasantly surprised by her abruptly ceasing to do so in recent days. First there was that night when she went off with Ivon – and, obviously, she was expecting that, has she mentioned that? - but all the same, it wasn't nice to find Echo's loyalty vanishing so abruptly. And then tonight, when she announced she was going to bed and left the fire, she just sort of presumed Echo would follow her. That's what she does, isn't it? Following people even into the jaws of death? Following a woman she claims to have the hots for into the home they share should present no problem to her, surely.

So why, oh why, is she still outside? Raven can almost picture her in her mind's eye, probably perched on a log, gazing at the fire, sword across her knees, just in case any mysterious threat should emerge from the trees and threaten the people she loves. She's never decided, really, whether it's more reassuring or creepy that Echo keeps vigil in that unmoving way.

She mentally shakes herself and makes a start on getting ready for bed. Clearly Echo is not coming home to her any time soon, so she might as well get on with living her life. She removes her brace, and changes into the leggings that pass for pyjama bottoms in the wake of the second apocalypse, and is half way through tugging her shirt over her head when she realises she has company.

"Sorry." Echo makes a point of averting her eyes from her topless state as she goes to reverse back through her bedroom door.

"No, stay." Raven hastens to ask as she throws on an old T shirt. She's not quite sure what to do, now. She'd like to walk over and pull her into a hug, in spite of her post-Ivon displeasure, but she's just taken her brace off, and the door is a good few paces away.

For want of a better option, she pats the space beside her on the bed rather self-consciously.

"Are you sure?" Echo is looking at her like this invitation might bite.

"Yes." She states firmly. "Decided not to stay up?"

"Yeah. I thought that – I thought maybe it would be more useful to come apologise to you. I'm sorry."

"I don't think you need to be sorry." Raven admits heavily. "You don't owe me anything. You're at perfect liberty to spend the night with Ivon as often as you please."

"I already told you it was a waste of time. I don't think I'm going to end up doing it again." She points out lightly, and Raven feels her lips quirking just a little in response. "And I am sorry, Raven, because I knew it would hurt you, and I did it anyway."

"I forgive you." They're not words that come naturally to her, usually, but this is Echo and if she's going to inspire her loyalty in the face of actual competition from those inside the bunker, she's going to have to step out of her comfort zone at least a little.

The words have barely left her lips when, suddenly, warm arms are closing around her and Echo's cheek is resting on her shoulder and, she thinks, she can feel the barest whisper of soft lips against the crook of her neck.

Maybe, she wonders, it might be worth experimenting with forgiveness more often, if moments like this are the result.

a/n Thanks for reading!