Bellamy's knees dig into the soft, muddy ground. He looks down, the ground is not damp from the rain but from the blood of his people. A Grounder takes a handful of his hair and yanks it back. Bellamy must watch. That is his punishment. He must watch as the Grounders plow through the camp, taking down his people like they are nothing, leaves of grass. They are screaming, running, begging all in vain. Like it is in vain his attempt to break free from his captives. His whole helpless body is shaking, tears are blurring his vision, screams are deafening yet he can still fully smell the blood. It is something like copper and metal from the Ark (which is now in flames). Something shields him from the horrible sight, a figure. It is the Commander, her hollow eyes fixated on his. Again, he is struggling against the restrains and pain, anger is fueling him with the adrenaline. He'll endure anything just to get his hands on her.
"Bellamy!" he's imagining the voice, maybe it is that small part of himself that still wants to live, "Bell!" Only when his sister is tossed in front of him does he find the source of the words.
"O!" he screams.
She pulls herself up, ever the survivor. But there is not much left in her. All bloody and broken… defeated.
"O!" he chokes, "O, It's going to be fine, don't worry."
He musters enough to smile and not wince from the cut across his left cheek.
She nods, again trusting her big brother. Then her body like in a strange spasm arches forward. A blade lurches out of her chest. The world stops. Slowly, soundlessly she falls to the side. Bellamy just stares as her last breath is leaving her blood stained mouth.
"This is your fault." the Commander accuses. As he is looking up her, the blade is swinging at his neck. He shuts his eyes and steels himself.
His eyes fly open to the rusty ceiling above his tiny bunk bed. His eardrums are filled with the sound of his erratic heartbeat, lips salty from tears.
"Fuck." he mouths. Not only is the past haunting him but the future possibilities as well. The beeping of the alarm finds its way to him. It's time for his shift. But he cannot will himself to move. Everything is just so tiring. He cannot remember the last time he woke up rested. To be honest, he can rarely remember going to bed at all. Only the nightmares are there to convince him that he indeed was getting some sleep.
Somehow he drags himself out of the bed and to his post. There he has all the time he needs to stare into one dot and let his mind be overcome with worry and regret.
This is your fault. Is still ringing in his ears more loudly that that annoying alarm. Is it? Will it be? Is he the one meant to save or doom his people? He never believed in destiny. That was for the noble heroes and demi-gods of the ancient world. It seems ridiculous that he was and still is willing to kill and die for them but not to live. At least not like that and not with her. He is a soldier not a diplomat. And right now he is tired of being that as well. The truth is he is just a brother to a girl born against the law.
"Bell." he can hear her call. The last plea before dying, "Bell!" his sister, his responsibility.
"Bell." Octavia swirls him around. He is caught off guard by her presence, as if he was still stuck in thee dream, "Are you deaf?" her expression shifts from vexed to worried within the second of seeing his face, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Bellamy responds far too quickly for her liking.
She scoffs, "I know you, big brother."
He moves his gaze over her shoulder where Abby is still fighting a losing battle of trying to convince Raven to take things easy. Sometimes it feels like she's resigned to the fact that there's no curing her. Abby can't do anything. Maybe the Grounders have something to help… Lexa might… but it's her fault Raven's the way she is, "What do you know about the Commander?"
"Why…" Octavia's expression is the one of utter confusion, "Bell, what's going on?"
He wants to spill everything then and there; it has been lodged in his throat for longer than he ever wanted it to be. If he doesn't speak soon, it might choke him. However, there are too many people here, someone may overhear them, "Tonight. Meet me at my room." tonight she will tell him what to do.
She nods reluctantly. She knows that tone, he almost never uses it but there is no arguing with it.
The day passes rather quickly. With the scouting mission and the guard training, it helps him get his mind off things. Even Lincoln kicking his ass in front of dozen of trainees doesn't bother him much. In a weird way it helps. It exhausts him enough to make him eat, undistracted by the impending doom.
When he finally retreats to his room, Octavia is already there dutifully sharpening her sword.
"Do you really have to do this here?" he still doesn't like that she's found her place with the Grounders. And neither do the others.
"It's not like I can do it in the middle of the camp." she mutters but puts the sword away, "What's going on?" she asks, now timidly.
He sighs and sits on the bed. Where the hell should he start? "Kane went to Polis. He spoke to the Commander about the future of Arkadia. They want us to become the thirteenth clan."
She relaxes at the information. Such premature reaction, Bellamy thinks.
"The clans decided on an arrangement to assure the alliance. That's what they said." he continues slowly almost whispering. He is reliving the conversation with Kane, repeating his words almost to a letter. Now Octavia is reacting in a more expected way. She is getting mad; her face muscles twist in anger, hand gripping the hilt of the sword.
"… and now Kane thinks, now they want…" one word, one last word and he cannot utter it. If he does, it will make it too real. His eyes are glued to the boots. They are all raggedy, the sole of the left one too worn out. He should have that mended.
Octavia places a hand on his shoulder and in a soft voice, which at that moment resembles their mother's, asks him to look her in the eyes.
Only when complies does he realize he is on the verge of tears. They prickle like needles, "… Me." he manages to finish.
He isn't sure if she is more angry or sad. She lets go of the sword and takes his hand in hers'," It's ok."
If only, "What should I do?" he asks but she is as lost as he is.
"I can't, Bell. I can't make that decision for you."
"Sure you can." Bellamy retorts, only half joking.
"I just don't want you to ruin your life like this. You deserve so much more after everything you've done for us. But…" her lips are quivering, he sees she doesn't want to say the next part, "As much as I hate her, this is the best way to bring peace."
"I know that!" he slips away from her grasp. He is marching left and right in a cage-sized room, "Just tell me something concrete. You are my sister; I have no one but you. You should have a say in this. I need to give an answer by tomorrow."
He looks at her sister, she is desperate. He can't do this to her, it would be so much easier if he could but he can't. It is his burden not hers. He flops next to her and comments lightheartedly, "If I knew you would be of no help, I wouldn't have told you."
She lets out a small laugh and pushes him, "Shut up."
"Ouch." Bellamy is rubbing his shoulder partly feigning the hurt. She's not aware how strong she's become in every way imaginable.
They sit like that for a while, both lost in their own thoughts about tomorrow.
"I'll stand by you whatever you decide." her steely gaze is the assurance she means every word. "Always."
Instead of responding he hugs her and kisses the crown of her head. He used to do that when the darkness of the Ark would be too much for her. But the darkness he is in can't be kissed away, "I love you, O."
"I love you too, big brother." she squeezes him tightly before letting go, "Lincoln's probably wondering where I am. I should…"
"Sure." he nods. There is no need for her to be dealing with his problems any more.
She hugs him again, a reminder she is always there than dashes out.
Bellamy falls back on the mattress. The day has passed and no decision. Whatever he chooses, it will change many lives forever.