AN: Hello all, I have been working on this for some time, which means that this one shot being added to Lines in the Sand is completely independent of the next season, which I sadly have not yet been able to find time to watch. I can only hope my headcanon is becoming canon, but we all know how often that happens. I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter of this piece. I was blown away by the feedback, and I apologise for taking so long to update.
A brother may not be a friend, but a friend will always be a brother.
Miller stared out over the space between them and the ArcFall survivors. Kane and Griffin stood there, with the rest of the survivors behind. Bellamy's shoulder brushed Miller's as they stood there, side by side with Octavia at her brother's other side. Jasper was a pace or two away from the girl. They faced-off a few long moments, drawing on each other's strength, against what was left of the governing body of Arc Station.
Miller felt adrift there. Not really sure if they would be able to stand much longer under the scrutiny of the people that had once lead them. More men and women gathered from ArcFall, and Miller shifted uneasily on his feet, startling slightly when Clark stepped up beside him, a hand on his shoulder for a ghost of a moment. There was a strength in her, that made him comfortable. It seemed to seep through her fingers and into his skin, permeating his chest. He set his feet and squared his jaw. If little Clarke Griffin could stand there against her mother, then he could stand against strangers to him.
"What is this?" Kane asked, dark eyes flickering from Bellamy and over Miller on their way to Clarke.
"This is a stand," Clarke said firmly. It was that voice that Miller had hated the first few weeks. That strong, unchallengeable voice that he'd grown to respect and even, if he were admitting it, be proud of.
"There will be no mutiny here," Kane said firmly, hand on his hip just above his gun holster. Miller snickered at the gesture. He and Bellamy may only have a clip left in the big semi-autos between them, but it would be more than enough to rip through any of ArcFall that wanted to differ.
"You're right," Clarke said, turning to smile at Miller and Bellamy and everyone else down the line. She took a step forward, between them and ArcFall. Miller felt someone step up behind him and hear the faint shuffling of more feet as a few more of what had survived of the 100 joined them. Familiar faces. Harper. Raven. Monty. Lincoln. Monroe. It was a power team, and even he could see it.
Clarke - the physician and their symbol of hope.
Bellamy - the rebel leader and laden with more responsibility than a person should bear.
Lincoln - a wild card that shouldn't be standing with them but was with the instinct to keep them all alive.
Jasper - doe eyed and small but more than versed in survival.
Monty - physically weak but mentally strong enough to remind them all of their humanity.
Raven - the last of the one-hundred, accepted by them and supported by her intellect.
Monroe and Harper - twin shadows that seemed to exude strength and determination.
As he stood there, he wondered where he fell. What he contributed. As Bellamy's eyes slid over him, he knew what he brought to the table. He was a loyal soldier. He'd been since the beginning, and he nodded to his leader.
"This is where the shuttle fell, you know," Clarke said, turning toward Kane. "This is where we landed and where we took our first steps on the earth. It is where we have buried our dead and made ourselves stronger."
"And we are very proud of all of your accomplishments, but-"
"You think we want pride?" Clarke asks, voice dark with something that made Miller shiver. He'd not heard that tone on her since the first few days out of Mount Weather. It had taken many long days and many talks amongst them all for it to disappear. "Your pride? We're on the ground, Kane. We're the ones you should try to garner pride from. You've failed more completely than we ever did with your poison ivy blankets and your hallucinagenic berries and your complete inability to feed yourselves effectively."
"All things which would have been remedied had you bothered to share your knowledge," Abby said, stepping up beside Kane.
"Because you made us learn them alone!" Clarke shouted, turning back toward them. "We can't do this anymore."
"No," Bellamy agreed. "We can't."
"You've got a choice to make," Clarke said. "Just like we all had a choice to make. You can stay here. You can toe the line, or you can leave. You can't do whatever you want anymore. There are different rules down here. On the Arc, you knew what was best, but now? Down here? You're a joke."
"We're doing fine," Abby countered, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Lincoln, how many grounders are in the trees?" Octavia asked. Miller stepped out of line enough to look at the man, whose eyes flickered up over the short walls and into the too-close tree line.
"Now? Ten," he said after a moment. "Maybe eleven."
"I thought you said that you'd established a truce?" Kane asked, turning in a circle, trying to locate the threat.
"We did," Clarke agreed. "But you weren't in the negotiations. Anya has let you be because she doesn't want another war. No one can stand another war, but you have to understand that you've had our protection since you came here. Jasper took a spear through the chest because he crossed the wrong river. We survived that. Octavia was taken hostage. We got her back. We went to war with a people that have known this land for years with nothing but our ruined drop ship and what we could scavenge, and we're still here! The Mountain Men took us all and-" She broke off at that. Miller had talked with a few of the others. No one had been treated the same, not really, but Clarke seemed particularly unwilling to talk about what had happened to her.
"And we escaped," Monty finished for her. Miller nodded. They'd escaped. It had been hell, but they'd escaped. Miller could see the ticking in the young woman's jaw, the clenching there that kept her from making a noise. Bellamy's shoulder bumped his firmly, and he glanced over at the older man. Dark eyes asked a question, and Miller shook his head firmly. Bellamy scowled but went back to watching Clarke.
"We did," Clarke said, seeming to collect herself. "What have you done?"
"We've survived our own hardships," Abby said, laying a hand on the now silent Kane's shoulder.
"Of your own creation," Clarke said. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have one of two choices to make. You can step in line or you can leave." A muttering went through the crowd of adults. They feared anything outside of their walls.
"We aren't going anywhere," Abby insisted, and for a moment, Miller saw where Clarke got her stubbornness.
"Then you're going to have to be willing to step aside," Bellamy said, slipping into his role as leader. He stood beside Clarke, glancing down at her a moment. "Brave princess." Miller just made out the whisper, and he couldn't help but smile. He'd have to have a talk with Bellamy later, once this all was settled, and he had no doubt that their rebel leader would be more than uncomfortable with it.
"We can't just make them leave," someone called, and Miller sighed. Finn stepped around Kane. He took hesitant steps in front of Clarke, looking at her like someone might look at a frightened animal. Ignorant, really. Clarke might have spent days and weeks of her life frightened before they came to earth, in those years in lock up, maybe even before, but now, standing in front of everyone, Clarke was anthing but. It was clear in the set of her shoulders.
"You're one of us, Finn, chose the right side," Raven said firmly, voice more harsh than it probably had to be, but at least she was doing something other than mooning after the boy. She was an asset. Miller wanted to like her, but she made it difficult when she was so easily swayed by the Space Walker.
"There's only one side!" he insisted.
"No," Kane said, cutting him off. "There isn't anymore." He drew that little six-shooter pistol and held it out in front of him, staring down the barrel at Bellamy. Miller swung the big semi-auto around, a promise in the trigger.
"You do that, you die," he said firmly. His temples itched from the beanie. His shoulder ached from a hunting injury. He had sweat beading at the small of his back, and yet, as he stood there, he'd not move until something changed.
"You want to live together, we can all live together," Clarke said, taking a half step toward the line of fire. She didn't step between Bellamy and Kane, didn't make that play or belittle the strength in their leader. She simply moved, cementing her support of him and making sure to stay out of Miller's line of sight. "If you decide that you can't take orders...well. We will be back in three days. You have those three days to talk amongst yourselves, but at the end of them, a decision has to be made."
"We're not going anywhere," Jasper said firmly, but he was over ruled with a firm look from both leaders. Miller didn't agree. They shouldn't leave. Shouldn't give them time to think or plot against them, but countering each other now meant weakness.
"We are," Clarke said. "For three days, and then we're coming back, right here. To our home. We're going to take it if we have to. We've got to be done sitting by idly. There are other tribes and other people that might be coming any minute to see if they can capitalize on Anya'as weakness. We have to be ready for that, and we can't be ready listening to people too afraid to leave their own walls."
"You do this, Clarke," Abby said. "If you do this, you're starting a war with your own people."
"You're my mother," Clarke said, a soft smile on her face. "But you're not my family anymore." That smile fell, and Abby stared slack jawed at her.
She turned away from them then, walking toward where Bellamy and Miller stood side by side. She nodded to Miller, who gave her his best smile before nodding and leveling the semi-auto toward the ArcFall survivors.
"Three days!" Bellamy called. "Try not to cause too much trouble. We might have to live with these people." A chuckle went up amongst the rest of the surviving members of the 100 that had first come to earth.
"Bellamy," Clarke said firmly, eyes flickering from him to the gate. Miller watched him set his jaw, as if he was going to argue, but in the end, he bowed to her insistent glance, turned and walked toward the gate. He was leading them from their home, the brave soul at the front as they walked out those gates. That was the image that Clarke was trying to create, he was sure, but it also put the person that Kane might be willing to risk the semi-auto to kill well out of his way with several bodies between them.
Clarke remained, gesturing everyone forward with her eyes until Miller and she stood there alone. He considered her a long moment, ignoring the sharp look she sent him when he didn't move to follow.
"I've got the gun, Clarke," he said softly. "Something happens, Bellamy'd kill me." She frowned at that, but agreed without further comment. No disagreements. Not in front of the ArcFall survivors. Not even about each other's safety.
Out in the forest, Bellamy was leading them forward, away from the wall with Lincoln at his side. It was a small miracle, Miller realized as he caught up, that the pair had come together to cooperate after everything.
"If my cave has been left alone, I can take Octavia and three others at night," Lincoln offered. "If you can make do with the rest?"
"We'll go Clarke's art supply store," Bellamy confirmed. "It's close enough to get to the camp quickly if we have to, and it's hidden. No one's going to find us there if they don't know about it already."
"I'll go with Octavia," Raven said immediately, eyes down cast as they walked.
"Take Monroe and Harper," Bellamy added. "The rest of us can make due in the bunker." They moved quietly through the forest after that, splitting when it was necessary. Miller felt better with fewer people to watch as they walked. Lincoln would watch the women, keep them safe. Bellamy had hesitantly handed over his semi-auto to Harper, who had cradled it like a baby against her hip. Miller thought about offering up his own, but it made him comfortable there. It was a heaviness that he needed, so he kept it.
He brought up the rear anyway, watched all of them as they picked their way through the trees. It would be easier for him to cover them all from there than Bellamy from the front.
"Miller, you think you can find that hatch again?" Bellamy asked, loud enough for his voice to carry back to him. Brown eyes found him and held him firm, laying a responsibility on his shoulders. He nodded and took the lead, leaving Bellamy to fall to the rear and slow, grabbing Clarke's elbow to slow her as well.
Miller sighed into the air. There were not grounders following them, not that he could hear or see, but he was still uncomfortable relaxing in the trees. Leaving Clarke and Bellamy weaponless made him more itchy than he'd like to admit, but he knew the pair had things to talk over.
-RP: Lines in the Sand-
Clarke let herself to pulled to a stop by the strong hand at her elbow. She hadn't looked at Bellamy since they'd left the gate, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes from her decision. It was a cop out, really. The three days she offered was only a delay of things, but she couldn't bring herself to just kick them out without warning, without a chance to do the right thing.
"Hey," Bellamy said softly, nudging her with his arm. He stood beside her, much in the way he always did lately, relaxed with his hands at his sides, purposefully not looking at her. They only talked face to face when they were angry, when their words had no other meaning but anger or argument.
"Hey," she echoed him, knowing full well what it meant.
"Look at me," he said, a hand at her shoulder. That was new. They didn't have these conversations face to face, never had. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was more angry than he'd let on. She let him turn her, and met his gaze with a set jaw. If he wanted to fight, then she'd rise to the occasion. She always did, and she was ready for whatever he had planned.
Except the soft eyes, worried and flickering back and forth between hers. The subtle frown on his lips. She wasn't ready for the concern or the pity there.
"What?" she asked, voice clipped and hard, asking for a fight. Begging for a fight, because that would be so much better than what else could happen if that spark in him that meant fire didn't light up.
"What happened at Mount Weather?" he asked. The question was firm, unyielding and everything that she never wanted to hear from him.
"Nothing," she said immediately, before her brain could process that a lie would be better than a denial. If she lied, she could magic a reality that was still terrible but better than what had happened. She'd heard some of the other talking. There had been starvation for some of them. Others were put in dark rooms with nothing but their own thoughts for sound. Still some had been beaten. Miller had been one of those, she knew. She'd tended his injuries when they'd escaped, afterall. He'd simply smiled grimly at her and let her go about her business.
She liked Miller. Miller didn't ask questions.
"Liar," he said, no bite in the word.
"What happened there happened to all of us. It was different for everyone, but everyone is getting over it the best that they can. Bringing it up and picked at scabs is no use to us right now."
"It might help-"
"It won't," Clarke said firmly. She couldn't talk about what happened. She really couldn't. Hands grabbing and that clinical white room. Whispering in her mind about the past and the future and everything in between. Cold and hot and light and dark and just everything that-
"Clarke?"
She opened her eyes and glanced at him, hating the concern there.
"I'm fine. We need to get to the bunker and talk everything out." She brushed past him, ignoring the lack of his footsteps behind her and the silence that seemed to soak into her skin. They had things to do. Living in the past would do nothing but bring up old wounds.
Bellamy's footsteps eventually brought him up beside her, and they walked through the trees together, ghosting around each other and any obstacles in their way.
"You can tell me," he said. "You've heard enough of my sins. I can listen to this."
"I know I can," she said, a smile in place despite her will to keep it gone. "That doesn't mean I want to."
"I want you to, later," he said. "When it's not going to hurt as much. But for now, I just need to know that you're okay." She considered him out of the corner of her eye for a long moment.
"I'm fi-"
"Not that you're fine. I know what fine means, Clarke. I want to know that you're alright, that you're going to be ok."
"I'm going to be okay," she said after a while. "I'm just not right now." He nodded in acceptance, and Clarke let them fall silent as they neared the familiar setting of the bunker.
The hatch had been shut, and Clarke knelt to open it as soon as it came into view. It wouldn't do to let Bellamy sit and stew over anything else. If he was going to talk to her, he was going to talk to her when no one else was around. She craved people, if only for that reason. She could see the glow of candles and hear the faint conversation from above.
"Coming down!" she called, and started down the ladder. Monty and Jasper were seated on either side of the small table, flicking little folded paper footballs through each other's upheld fingers in turn. Clarke shook her head and smiled at them as she passed, laying her hand on Jasper's shoulder as a hello.
Miller had sat down on the floor against the end of the bed, legs out in front of him haphazardly. He'd laid the semi-auto on the ground beside him and let his head fall back against the bed. His eyes were closed, and if she didn't already know he was a sonrous sleeper, she might think he was out for the count. As it was, he was dozing deeply, his beenie pulled back and dark hair was peaking out in front, falling across his forehead and into his eyes.
She sat down beside him on the floor, nudging his foot with her own. His eyes snapped open. One of his hands shot to the semi-auto, and she shushed him quickly. Bleary eyes blinked at her.
"Lay down," she said simply. "We'll wake you up if something happens."
"Not tired," he lied on a sigh, sitting up more and straightening his hat.
"You were up all last night and through the day before and after," she chided. "Doctors orders."
"Not your patient."
"No, but you will be if you don't rest," Bellamy said. He'd come down the ladder and pulled the hatch shut behind him. "We've got time. Everyone should get some rest."
"It's daylight," Miller argued. "Someone's gotta find food and we need to talk over what happened." Bellamy raised an eyebrow at the younger man, who had the decency to look sheepish as he pulled the semi-auto across his lap like a blanket. "Besides, man, I don't want to sleep on those sheets." There was a smile at the corner of his mouth at that and a suggestive arch to his eyebrow.
"Octavia washed them out," Bellamy argued, eyes slipping over to Clarke. She didn't even have the energy to pretend like she didn't know what they were talking about.
"This place is awesome," Jasper said. "If you two don't want the bed, I'll take it." He paused a moment. "Unless you want it, Clarke." She glanced up at him and then craned her head to look at the matress behind her.
"No desire to sleep there ever again," she said simply. "All yours."
"Sweet," Jasper said, and in a quick leap, he had nearly flown between herself and Miller and landed in a heap on the bed. It was an old thing, and is creaked and squeaked, but Jasper seemed content enough once he was burrowed into the blankets.
"Don't want to return to the scene of the crime?" Miller asked quietly. Clarke rolled her head to look at him. There was no judgement there, just a twinkle in his eye that said he was amused.
"Don't want flashbacks of something that turned out to be a mistake," she amended. "Not a crime, not down here."
"Should be," Bellamy murmured, taking Jasper's chair. Monty shifted uncomfortably across from him, the little paper football twirling in his hands. "If no one's going to sleep." He held up his hands to make a goal post, fixing Monty with a serious look. "Game on." It took Monty a moment to process the challenge, but it a moment, the little football was flying back and forth. Clarke watched them with half closed eyes, enjoying the pair of them so relaxed.
Jasper's breathing evened out behind her, and every once in a while, he would murmur something and squirm in his sleep. Miller remained sharp beside her, the gun in his lap. Quietly, she reached out and gripped the butt of the gun, lifting it from his hands and setting it on her other side. He considered her a moment before nodding. She gave him a small smile before reaching up onto the bed and snagging a loose pillow. She tossed it down on his lap instead and turned, leaning down and slumping her head unceremoniously on top.
She did not miss the stutter of Bellamy's fingers as he sent the paper football wide of his goal.
"You're trying to get me killed," Miller said quietly enough for only Clarke to hear.
"Don't know what you're talking about," she said, closing her eyes. "Someone wake me up when we're done avoiding the inevitable." She felt more than heard Miller laugh at that. She was vaguely aware of someone taking the gun from by her feet and the opening and closing of the hatch, but that was only somewhere distantly in her mind, on the edge of a dream.
She came back to awareness slowly, but kept her eyes closed, willing away lucidity. Miller and Jasper were talking quietly, as if to not disturb her. Miller made some gesture with his hand as he spoke, and she jostled slightly. They pair grew quiet for a long moment.
"You know Clarke and Finn got it on in that bed," Miller said loudly. His stomach shook with laughter as Clarke lurched upward.
"Miller!" she hissed, taking the pillow and hitting him hard in the chest.
"I'm kidding," he said easily, both hands held up. "God, I wish I was kidding."
"That is not-"
"Something anyone wants to hear about," Jasper said, but he had a big smile on his lips. "And Octavia cleaned the sheets."
"In a river," Miller said, face completely devoid of humor. "So now they have Finn and fish spe-" Clarke didn't let him finish the sentence, instead, lurching at him and planting both hands over his mouth.
"Alright, alright," she said, annoyed with the burning she could feel in the tips of her ears and cheeks. "Everyone in camp has sex out in the open or in the smoke house or during broad daylight and it's just fine, but I-"
"Why is Clarke killing Miller?" Clarke looked up to see Bellamy standing at the base of the ladder, staring at the pair of them with a quirked eyebrow.
"Because your second doesn't know when a joke is over," she said, letting Miller up and disentangling her limbs from his.
"Ahuh," Bellamy said, eyes flickering over to Jasper, who was sitting on the bed, legs crossed.
"It's probably true," Jasper said. Bellamy nodded and made a non-committal sound before turning back toward the ladder.
"Send it down!" he shouted up the ladder, and a half second later, the gutted form of a panther fell to the ground at their feet. Monty followed it a short minute later, and Bellamy had already drug the creature toward the middle of the floor. Miller was up in a moment, using a knife to start skinning the animal.
"Shouldn't we have left that up there?" Jasper asked skeptically. "I mean, we're not going to make a fire down here."
"No, we're not," Bellamy confirmed, pulling out a small box and a pot from one of the tubs along the wall. Clarke watched as he took out a small tank and attacked it to the box. In a moment, the junk had become a small camp stove. Clarke recognized them vaguely from the old recycle room on the ARC.
"Sweet," Jasper said, getting up and helping Miller, now suddenly alight with energy. Clarke let the men do their skinning as she edged around them to retrieve one of the blank sketchbooks and a small dark brown colored pencil from the shelf. She sat at the table with Monty, who seemed content after he filled the pot with a few bottles of water.
Clarke settled in to draw, sketching the room, the three young men on the floor, and Monty's profile as he watched them. She glanced up and down, back and forth, letting the pencil skitter and scratch out exactly what she wanted. The next time she looked up, Monty had shifted, turning toward her instead.
"You're good at that," he said, sharp eyes on the paper. Had it been anyone but Monty, she might have tried to hide it, but as it was, she just smiled at him.
"Thank you," she said, eyeing the sketch with a critical indecision. "The color's wrong for the light, but..."
"Beggars, choosers," Monty said simply and smiled.
"Exactly," she agreed. She didn't tell him that she couldn't stand the site of yellow any longer. There were three pencils all different shades of yellow, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to use any of them.
"I'm going to take some of this over to the cave, make sure everyone's okay before sunset," Bellamy said, lifting a large chunk of meat into a tarp and finally into a pack he salvaged from one of the tubs. "You guys got this?" he asked. Miller waved him off as he cut the meat up into chunks.
"I've gotta find some onions," Jasper declared, following Bellamy up the ladder. Clarke could hear him asking Bellamy if he thought Lincoln would know where some grew before the hatch closed. Clarke looked down at her unfinished drawing, filling in little bits and pieces from her memory. She looked up after a long while. Monty had moved to the floor, helping Miller to cut the meat up into small pieces. They were talking low back and forth, Miller occasionally showing Monty how to cut away meat from a joint or how to hold the knife for a better cut. Once and a while Monty would show him something about the anatomy of the creature, how something shifted to give them a better angle.
She realized, in that moment, that she could stay there, in that bunker, with these people, if ArcFall refused to leave. She'd said it before, to Bellamy, but they were a family. She had meant it, when she told her mother as much, but she hadn't really felt it until that moment, tucked into the bunker that first night. Jasper and Bellamy returned some time later, just as the sun had set completely. Jasper had arms full of little tubers and onions and some type of green vegetable that Lincoln had shown him. He cut them up with vigor and added them to the water pot before turning it on and dropping in great chunks of fat from the creature and the more manageable chunks of meat.
It wasn't long until they were all sitting around the pot, taking turns reaching in with the spoon they'd found in one of the tubs and a make shift version that Jasper had brought with him from Lincoln's cave. If anyone found it weird to be passing around spoons in a circle as they all ate from the same pipping hot stew pot, they didn't say anything.
They were family, afterall. What was a few germs between brothers?