AN: I have finally caught up (at least at the time I started writing this, but more likely than not, by the time I've posted, I'll be behind again) and so now I feel bad for underestimating Camp Jaha. But, this is the way the story was started, and this is the way it will end. In fact, this is the last "part" to Lines in the Sand. I hope you have all enjoyed this three part series. The 100 community has been remarkably welcoming, and you will see more from me in this fandom in the future. There's a heavy hit of Bellarke at the end, which I just couldn't seem to avoid.
Lines in the Sand - Part Three
Sometimes, Jasper wondered what he was doing, leaning against a tree while the rest climbed out through the hatch in the ground. He had Bellamy's semi-auto slung across his shoulders, eyes flickering like a hummingbird between the trees and the ground. It was an old habit, but with three of them in the trees and Lincoln standing next to him, he was more than a little itchy.
Octavia, Monroe and Harper were only a few paces off, standing around Lincoln and talking in hushed voices. Miller was filling them in, his own semi-auto trained in the opposite direction as Jasper's own. Clarke and Bellamy were still down in the shelter, and Monty was a few paces off, his face creased with a frown.
It was a day of reckoning. Jasper just hoped he was up for it.
He'd never thought, back on the Arc when they were stealing medical marijuana, that he could be this. This. First a survivor. Trusted with defense and offense and guarding the fence, and just pretty much everything important that a camp could need. Part of a rebel faction rising up against those of the Arc that had once garnered obedience. Friends with people like Miller and Bellamy.
He smiled despite himself as Clarke's blonde head appeared from the hatch. Friends with people like Clarke Griffin and Monty Green and a grounder they'd tortured not a year before. Bellamy came through the hatch, and Jasper offered the semi-auto back, but the man just shook his head. Jasper felt his heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Clarke things it's best if neither of us walk in their with weapons," Bellamy explained. "I countered that you and Miller should have them ready." Jasper eyed his smile, the lines between his eyebrows and around his mouth. Bellamy was worried. Well, Jasper wouldn't let him down. He leveled the semi-auto toward the camp, ready for whatever they decided.
Three days was a lot of time. Three days could be the end of everything for them.
The hike back was silent except for their boots on the ground and the occasional sound from the tree line. The wall had just come into view when Jasper felt the little tickle at the back of his neck that he'd felt each time the grounders were watching him. Normally, he would have to look for several minutes, eyes scanning the trees, before he could find them. This time, though, they wanted to be seen.
Anya and two of hers came through the trees from their left, dressed in complete war paint and leather armor, their weapons hanging off of them as if they were ready to take on the entirety of the world in just a moment. It made Jasper itchy, and the rest must have agreed, because in the next moment, Bellamy and Clarke were in front of him, with or without weapons. I
And if that didn't say something, he didn't know what did. That was a leader, he decided in that moment, a person willing to stand between their people and danger with or without a way to defend themselves. Someone that lead in hard times and in good times and in all of the times in between.
"Anya," Clarke said, voice firm but not unpleasant, a warning without being an insult.
"Clarke of the Sky People," Anya said, using a tone more formal than Jasper had ever heard from the grounders. "It is customary, with my people, to honor and strengthen alliances by standing with each other during disputes with other tribes." There was a faint quirking at the corner of the grounder's lips that made Jasper almost think she was human.
"You think this is a good idea?" Bellamy asked, eyes flickering between Clarke and Anya. Both women were staring each other down, as if the answer to anything and everything could be found within the face of the other.
"Yes," Clarke finally said. "If we're going to have an alliance, we're going to do it right. We should respect the customs of our neighbors."
"And scarring the new Sky People will make them more agreeable," Anya said. "This is Jakob and Nik." She indicated the two men at her sides. "They have sworn no harm will come to any of yours and are in support of the truce."
"Then let's go," Clarke said, taking steps toward them. Jasper winced as Anya clasped Clarke's hand, and he had to fight not to swing the gun around toward them. Before Clarke had taken Nik's hand, Bellamy was beside her, clasping Jakob's forearm firmly. It was a small thing, really, the shaking of hands among enemies, but it was the biggest thing that Jasper had ever seen.
The grounders walked behind them, a decision made by Clarke that no one else was really comfortable with. Jasper had to admit that he knew why. Someone on guard might see them and ask questions never, and wouldn't that just blow everything to shit. Their alliance would be fractured beyond repair if their white flag was stained red with grounder blood.
Jasper could feel Kane's eyes trained on them as they went through the gate. A few of the 100 were on guard, and from the way they shifted uncomfortably at the site of the three grounders made Jasper grateful for Clarke's forethought. Kane was standing with Abby beside their large bonfire. Abby's arms were crossed over her chest, and Kane had his little side arm out of its holster. ArcFall was gathered behind them, and as they moved further into the camp, the survivors of the 100 gathered behind them, even if they gave Anya and her two man army a wide berth.
"Councilman Kane and Councilwoman Griffin," Clarke's voice said, loud enough to carry. "When we left here, we made you an offer of people and gave you three days to decide on your course of action. Your time is at its end, and we are here for you answer."
"You had our answer when you left," Kane said, stepping forward, the sun glinting off of his side arm. "You offered us servitude or death."
"I offer you servitude or death," Anya said, stepping through their group, movements feral like a cat's. Her shoulders hunched slightly, the war paint on her face making her a wraith. "I am Anya of the Woods Clan."
"You're a grounder," Abby said, stepping forward, eyes wide. "Why are...I see." Her sharp eyes flickered to Clarke and back to Anya. It made Jasper uncomfortable, witnessing the writing off of a child in the eyes of its mother. "You're here to intimidate us."
"I am here in support of an alliance I made, an alliance that was earned in blood and sacrifice. You have no such claim to my people's trust." Jasper had to admit that Anya was a leader as well, one that was probably far more equipped than Clarke or Bellamy. And she had just lit a fire.
"These children are our people," Kane said. "As a leader, you understand that sometimes uprisings happen because the young don't know what is best for them."
"As a leader, I know that if my youth feel that way, I have failed. I also know that these children, as you call them, have been far easier to cohabitate with than to kill."
"We just want our children to come home!" one of the ArcFall shouted. "We need their help."
"We don't need to be threatened into giving up everything that we have!" Kane shouted, turning toward his people.
"You're the only one giving up anything!" another shouted.
"It's true, Kane," Clarke said. "You're the one we're asking to give up something here, and it's not much at that. We're asking that you listen to the people who have been down here while you hid up on your satellite."
"I am a member of-"
"You're the member of a Council that no longer exists," Bellamy said, voice that slightly exasperated tone that Jasper had heard directed at some of the younger members of the 100. "You're sacrificing the future of your people for your own pride and power."
"A leader," Anya said, interrupting Bellamy. "A leader stands between danger and their people." She turned toward her two men. "Do you trust me to lead you?" They nodded silently. "Do you trust me to protect you?" Nod. "Do you trust me to die if it means your life?" Nod. She turned back toward Kane. "A real leader would give up their power if it meant the survival of their people."
"You all seem convinced that this is the best course of action for our people, and I'd like to know why you-"
"When you landed here," Jasper said. He shocked himself by his outburst. Eyes turned toward him. Kane with disdain. Abby with a downturn of her lips. Clarke with a smile. Bellamy with a firm nod and something in his eyes that gave Jasper courage. "When you landed, you found our camp instead of making your own, and when you found it, you found Finn. Finn had to know that some of us survived, that we were taken. I don't see him not telling you that. You did nothing to find us. Pretty damning for a people to give up its next generation."
"We had to make sure that we were stable here before we-"
"In my Clan, children are the most important thing that we have. I am old. I am leader, but soon, someone else will be stronger than I am. Soon one of those children whose opinion doesn't matter to you will be stronger than you are, ready to take on whatever you cannot. That time, I think, has long since passed."
"This is not a grounder discussion," Abby said, voice thick with annoyance, and if Jasper could translate the look on her face, guilt. Anya held up one hand, calming one of her guards-Nik, if Jasper remembered right-and smiled at the woman.
"This is your daughter?" Anya asked, stepping forward and circling Clarke, sharp eyes flickering up and down the blonde. Clarke let her, and Jasper tried to relax.
"Yes," Abby said simply.
"This woman came into my territory to steal back a boy that should have died." Jasper felt his chest seize a bit at that. "She met me on a bridge, unarmed and was ready to talk about peace. She killed a man three times her size with far more experience because her people needed her. She made hard decisions while you were not there to mother her." Anya stopped circling and turned back to Abby. "She saw through deception and found a strength that most do not have to get her people out of their own graves, buried beneath Mount Weather. Would you be a proud mother or a jealous crone?"
Abby was silenced at that. The fight in her flickered and died.
"I am proud," Abby said after a moment. Jasper avoided both of their faces. It was a private moment, one that should have been had in a tent or out on their own in the woods somewhere, not in front of both of their people and forced into discovery by a woman that shouldn't have known them well enough to bring it to light.
"Then you should step aside and let the next generation, the better equipped generation, take their lead."
"I will not let my people be lead by children," Kane said.
"I'm of age to die on the arc," Clarke said suddenly. "I turned eighteen just after we landed. That is age of majority on your Arc. Bellamy has been for years. Is there a new barrier? Something that didn't exist up on your station? Is it because your conscience is gone? Because Jaha sacrificed himself to see your live?"
"We can't live like this," Abby said before Kane could say anything. She had softened since Anya's outburst. "We can't, Marcus."
"What would you have me do, Abby?" Kane asked, turning toward her with a softness to him that made Jasper uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine what it was doing to Clarke.
"A vote," the woman said easily, hands up in exasperation. "We put it to a vote. Elect a new Council."
"And who gets a vote?" Bellamy asked, voice clipped. "Our people are all adults here. We've all earned that right by being your settlers."
"Age of major-"
"Everyone," Abby said. "Everyone on the earth over the age ten." She met Bellamy's eyes with a firm, unyielding grace. He nodded.
"My presence is no longer required here," Anya said, slipping back among her two men and heading toward the gate.
"Anya!" Clarke called after her. The woman turned. "Be sure that we are aware of all of your customs when it comes to alliances and what is appropriate." It was a command, but it was also an olive branch. Anya's lips quirked into a smile, and she nodded before leaving out the gate.
-RP: Lines in the Sand-
Bellamy was nervous.
He wasn't sure why, given that he'd voted in one of these things in the past, while on the Arc. There would be a nomination for Chancellor normally, but they had decided against that only hours before. No Chancellor. No supreme decision making body, just the Council. They'd decided upon seven members, an odd number to avoid any tie in voting, and all seven members would be nominated among the people. Names were being taken by a recorder, one from ArcFall and one from the 100-Finn because everyone seemed to trust the doe eyed young man to be honest at least.
It had been three hours since people started making their nominations. Afterward, the name would all be given aloud and people would have a chance to discuss the nomination before the actual vote took place. He'd already made his nomination, handing the small slip of paper to Finn, who took it with a small frown.
He retreated after that to smaller campfire that the one hundred had made for themselves. Miller was seated there with Clarke and Jasper, and he eased himself down on the ground beside them, legs stretched out in front of him.
"One way or the other, this is about to be over," Miller said, dark eyes flickering over Clarke and himself.
"One way or the other," he agreed. "I'm sick of this. It will be good to have someone else worrying about you hoodlums." He ignored the quirked lips of the three others around him and stared into the fire.
"This could backfire on us," Clarke said quietly.
"Princess, could you, for just a second, enjoy yourself?" Bellamy asked, fixing her with a firm look.
"Last time I enjoyed myself Finn lead me to a meeting with a grounder, Jasper opened fire at a peace talk and we ended up having to blow up a bridge."
"Point," Miller said, tossing a small broken piece of stick into the blaze.
"When this is all over, we're getting you drunk," Jasper said. "Monty's moonshine will be back up and running and you'll have no excuse." Bellamy smiled at that. Wouldn't it be something to just...relax? For the first time since they'd crash landed on the earth? For the first time since Octavia had been discovered at that dance?
He sighed and looked over his people, the ones that he actually considered his. Octavia and Lincoln, standing not too far away, talking in hushed voices. Miller, who'd had his back since they'd landed. Jasper, who had looked to him to grow and learn strength. Clarke, who had fought him ever step of the way, made him a better person.
"Need a piss," Miller announced after a moment. "Jasper, you seen Monty?"
"No," Jasper said, eyes flickering up at Miller, who had inclined his head just enough to not be a natural movement. "I'll find him. See what he thinks about everything."
"Gonna find something to eat, you two meet me?"
"Yeah," Jasper said, and Bellamy could just hear the laughter in his voice.
"They think we have something to discuss," Clarke said easily. She was leaned back against the trunk of a tree that they'd drug into camp as a bench style seat. Her eyes were closed, and she'd a smudge of dirt across her cheek. Before the fight with the grounders, she'd made it a point to at least wash her face and hands several times a day. Infection, she'd told him, hid in that dirt, and neither had any place on a physician. Since he'd seen her step up into the top floor of the drop ship, she'd been covered in mud or blood or both.
"You can use the wash tent, you know," he said easily. "No one's going to blame you."
"What?" she asked, eyes opening to glance at him. He let his finger tips run along her cheek and again over her forehead.
"You've got to look worse than me," he said, knowing full well he was probably covered in the jaguar's blood still, despite the three days since he'd brought it down. Days in the forest since probably had him coated in sweat and dirt and tree sap.
"We're grounders," she said. "Being clean isn't the most important thing."
"Used to be to you," he said easily.
"I had enough showers in Mt. Weather to last me a few months," Clarke said darkly. The promise of violence in her tone made hm uneasy. "And no, Blake, I don't want to talk about it." He sighed and nodded before shifting enough so that his shoulder brushed against hers. They sat there, side by side as the light faded and the votes were counted.
Side by side. It was where they drew their strength, after all. Never face to face, because that was how they fought. If he had any say in anything, they wouldn't fight again. Their days of arguing over what was best with savage words and glares was beyond them. They'd learned how to discuss without fighting, and he had no desire to ever fight with her again.
"You know what would really suck?" she asked quietly.
"Hm?" he asked, eyes closed and head leaned back over the log, lolling in the heat.
"Kane could be elected to the Council," she said, drawing a deep breath.
"I thought that was given," he answered.
"Kane could be elected to the Council, and so could we," she said, voice cracking with laughter. He groaned at that, forcing his neck to hold the weight of his head and looked at her out of one cracked eye.
"Brave Princess," he said. "You'll be fine. It'll be me that Kane kills."
"Brave Rebel King," Clarke said, leaning into him just long enough to tell him she was teasing. "You'll be fine."
"Let's hope neither of us have to deal with him," he said. "Do I have to be a Rebel King?"
"That's what you've been since we landed."
"I'd like to think I've changed since we landed." He liked to think, but maybe he hadn't. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered.
"You're leading a rebellion against ArcFall," Clarke said. "That makes you a rebel if I've ever seen one."
"What does that make you?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. "Rebel Princess?"
"Hm," she said, making a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. "I was a princess when we landed. We overthrew the queen."
"Brave Rebel Queen," Bellamy said, leaning back against the trunk. They sat in silence for a long while at that.
"Yeah," she said finally. "I think I like the sound of that."
Bellamy chuckled at the ease with which she admitted it. A year ago, they'd have killed each other if given the chance. Now...well...
"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too." He eased one arm around her and rested it on the log behind her. He felt the heaviness of her head resting against his bicep. The heat of the fire wafted up and over them, and he relaxed, willing himself to just melt into the ground. Miller had been sitting behind them for the better part of thirty minutes, and he was sure that Lincoln had been watching them far longer, Octavia wrapped up in his arms asleep. Bellamy let himself doze, the weight of the world off his shoulders, if even for a few hours, and the weight of his Rebel Queen's head against him.
Life, for Bellamy Blake at least, wasn't as terrible in that moment as it could have been.