I made some small changes in locale to make the story run smoother. I actually would like to thank the reviewer Harligh Quinn who mentioned the problems with the previous location. I think this will be better for all readers.
Oh for reference the Grounders wear clothes made of materials like what you see on the show but not so layered because the island is tropical in climate so the men wear loincloths and have tattoos with tribal markings on their chests (they mean something but that will come up later) while the women wear a sort of wrap around skirt and a top that exposes their stomachs with the tribal markings on the visible skin of their shoulders and abdomen.
Chapter 2: Oceans Between Us
Clarke rolled her eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a short span of five minutes. The steamboat was waiting expectantly for the patron of the voyage to Australia but said patron was busy sucking face with her boyfriend and ignoring the world around her.
"O, it's time to go. We should have been on open sea by now."
"Clarke, I'll be away from Jas for who knows how long! I need to soak in these final moments." Octavia returned to her lanky boyfriend's lips and Clarke counted to ten, forcing herself to remain calm.
Jasper Jordan was a good guy, an ideal match for Octavia, who was all free spirit and emotional whirlwind. Jasper was kind-hearted and low-key as well as dedicated to the lovely brunette he'd met after an embarrassing stumble outside a London shop. They were a healthy couple and Clarke didn't doubt an engagement was in the works. Octavia gushed about her dream wedding and though the times dictated the role of most women, Octavia did everything because she wanted to. Clarke was lucky enough to be offered the same liberties.
Jake and Abby Griffin were scientists, the former specializing in environmental studies and the latter in human ethics and sociology. Their daughter had learned enough from both of them to become a potent combination of the two. Octavia wanted to find her long-lost family and Clarke wanted nothing more than answers for her best friend but she had her own goals for the expedition to Australia.
There were rare flower species whispered about in the scientific community with the power to heal viruses and regular bacteria. These flowers could be cultivated on European soil and a cure to common colds or flus could be found. Additionally, studies conducted in native peoples predicted one or more tribes inhabiting a territory as great as Australia. It was considered bullshit by the big name scientists but Abby Griffin was not as swayed. She believed studying the social customs of the Australian tribes would further research on the human condition, adding to theories made by Darwin himself. Abby would have been on the voyage herself if it weren't for the deteriorating health of her husband.
Jake's immune system had begun failing him and he was sick more often than not. Clarke had originally refused to leave his side, but both parents convinced her that wasn't the right decision. Clarke should be there to support Octavia who was more of a sister than a best friend. Also, what more could she do for her father? Jake was being looked over by his wife and a private doctor hired for house calls at any hour. He had the best treatment London could offer and if that wasn't enough… Clarke didn't want to think about it. She was praying she would return with answers to social questions, cures for diseases, and Octavia's family members safe and sound. She prayed even more she'd return to a recuperated father and normalcy. Maybe it was too much to ask for.
"Alright, O, time's up. Move your ass or I'm leaving you."
Octavia broke away from Jasper and glared at her friend.
"I paid for the ship and the crew. Oh and the guide that's keeping us safe in the wild."
"And I thank you for that. The money's been counted. We're all set so if you aren't on board, I think things will run smoothly regardless."
Octavia bemusedly flipped her friend off and Clarke laughed, hugging Jasper goodbye before ascending the steps to the ship's main deck. Octavia muttered sweet words into her boyfriend's ear, pressing one more kiss of love and promises to his lips before running after the blonde on board.
As the boat began to move and the English port became dimmer and dimmer in the distance Octavia nudged Clarke with her shoulder and pouted.
"Remind me again why I couldn't wear one of my pretty dresses?"
"Because the jungles of an unknown land are no place for fineries. You want to trip on your hem and nosedive off a cliff? Or maybe break a heel of your leather boots and plummet into a pit?"
"Seems like a lot of ways to fall."
"Don't be cute, O. This voyage means a lot to both of us, but it isn't worth risking our lives. I'll be keeping an eye on you."
"Spare me the lecture. You're like a year older than me, Clarke."
"A year filled with experiences and knowledge."
Octavia burst into giggles at her friend's exaggerated tone and Clarke laughed with her.
"Look, I said I would behave so I will, but hell I'm 18! I have to have some fun, right? Especially since by the end of this trip I may be worse off than before."
The mood darkened and Clarke sighed, pulling the younger girl into her in a side hug.
"I'll always be here for you, O. We're family. You know that."
"I do, but it doesn't change the fact that I've lose a whole lot of family already."
"We'll find them."
"I know." Octavia's light blue gaze drifted over the horizon. "I'm just worried we'll find three corpses, rotting in the sun."
Clarke winced at the image.
"What did I say about pessimism?"
Octavia rolled her eyes.
"To contain it?"
"Exactly." Clarke said matter-of-factly.
"I need to take my mind off what's coming. I'm going down to our cabin."
"Tired?"
"Strangely so."
"Sleep well, O." Clarke said gently and the girl nodded before slipping down the deck into the lower level.
Clarke leaned on the railing of the boat, cerulean eyes fixed on the endless expanse of ocean and sky. For some reason, her mind went to Bellamy and she wondered what he'd look like. The brief picture in her head of five year old Bellamy was blurry at best and the only feature she clearly made out was warm brown eyes and the freckles that framed the rest of his face. He would be 23 now, several years older than her 20 years.
Did he remember her? Probably not. Bellamy had meant a lot to toddler Clarke but it wouldn't have been the same for him. He was older, more mature, and bent on traveling the world. She wouldn't mean anything to him, though her father had told her about Bellamy's parting words to her.
He was joking. Being nice to the little girl crying after him. We were too young to make such promises and even if we find him, he won't be thinking of proposing marriage to me. We barely know each other.
Clarke wished she could convince herself of that because that night when she closed her eyes, she still dreamt of the boy with the freckles.
Bellamy bit back a laugh as his best friends Miller and Lincoln tiptoed behind the unsuspecting man washing his clothes by the stream. With a silent snicker the two suddenly jumped up with a menacing howl, startling the man so that he dropped his clothes and fell face-first into the stream. The three boys burst into raucous laughter as the man sputtered and pulled himself out of the river.
"Hey, the clothes you're wearing are clean now. We did you a favor!" Bellamy joked, running away from the stream, his friends on his tail.
"I swear that guy's going to kill us in our sleep." Miller said, breathing heavily from the long run mingled with his laughter.
"You think so? It's the second time we scared him into the stream."
"And the fourth time we scared him all together." Bellamy said, adding on to Lincoln's count.
"He's going to tell Tristan. When your name comes up…" Lincoln trailed off.
Bellamy sighed but didn't refute his friend's statement. Tristan had always had it out for him. Bellamy's mother had told him how he came to be a part of the tribe, but Bellamy had been a boy when his parents were massacred by the vicious leopard still loose in the jungle and for him his family was right there on that island. Kala was his mother and Miller and Lincoln were the best friends he could ask for. The rest of the Grounder tribe had accepted Bellamy as their own. He was a skilled hunter and skilled strategist, earning him a spot on the tribal council headed by Tristan. The council would gather to discuss any important movements of the tribe or any broken edicts by a member of the tribe (there were rules even in the jungle) and neither thieves nor murderers got away without apt punishment. The only person who treated Bellamy as an outsider was the chief-his father Tristan.
Bellamy did see him as a father figure. Tall and commanding Chief Tristan was a fierce man with the tribes' interests at the forefront of his mind. He had allowed Bellamy to join the council because he grudgingly acknowledged the young man's cleverness, but that did not make their interactions any more pleasant. Tristan gave him gruff greetings and if they spoke during council meetings it was curt and only the necessary amount of courteous. Kala had reassured Bellamy it had nothing to with him and that might have been true but it didn't change the fact that Tristan would have preferred his wife never found Bellamy at all.
Bellamy had moved out of the family tent when he was twelve, finding his own among the other boys his age. Miller was two years younger and he idolized Bellamy. It made him faithfully loyal and particularly gullible to Bellamy's pranks. Lincoln was the oldest of the group at fifteen and he served as the sobering figure, keeping their antics to the appropriate level. Or at least he tried to. Bellamy was the ringleader of mischief. It got him onto trouble more often than not.
"How are you not afraid of the chief?" Miller asked.
"What, you are?"
"Absolutely terrified. He ordered me to light the main fire last night but his voice surprised me and I lit myself on fire." Miller showed them the mild burns on his calves.
Bellamy shook his head.
"He's just a man, Miller. Flesh and blood like the rest of us."
"If you say so. Frankly, I don't know how you have the nerve to talk back to him."
"And so often." Lincoln put in.
Bellamy glared at them.
"The chief isn't always right. His ideas are antiquated and as part of the council I have the right to stand up for my beliefs."
"There's our future chief." Lincoln patted him heavily on the back.
"Ouch, watch it, you giant."
Lincoln grinned as Miller chuckled.
"You gonna lead us to modernization, Bells?"
"Don't call me that." He growled and Miller held his hands up in surrender. "I don't want to lead anyone anywhere."
"But if you think Tristan is antiquated, your solution would be to find civilization, wouldn't it?" Lincoln reasoned.
"If you're referring to civilization as wherever the hell I came from, then no. I don't remember it and frankly I don't give a damn if I ever return. This is my home. No matter what Tristan believes." The last part was said under his breath but Lincoln heard him clearly.
"Don't let it get to you. You do have what it takes to lead this tribe. You know that, don't you?"
"Even if I did, there's one crucial part in the process of becoming chief that I have no desire to complete."
Miller grinned evilly.
"You mean your beautiful nuptials with the tribe's resident princess?"
Bellamy smacked him on the back of the head. Miller cursed at the hit, moving closer to Lincoln and further away from Bellamy in case of future attacks.
"What's the matter, hotshot? Can't handle the thought of Anya as your beloved bride?"
"Shut up, Linc. You hate Anya as much as I do. Don't even pretend like you don't." Bellamy glowered.
Anya was known as the Grounder princess because of her superiority complex. Her father was a hailed warrior, who had played a major role in the civil war of the tribe decades ago. Hundreds had died as a permanent chief and council was established-the position given to the leader of the winning side: Tristan. Anya's father was Tristan's right hand man and her mother was the tribe's only healer. Anya carried herself with arrogance and self-importance. She was aggressive in personality, inheriting her father's physical strength, and a talented artisan. She helped fashion the tribe's pottery, shelter, and the clothing of both men and women.
Anya was an impressive woman and was graced with an exotic beauty-high cheekbones, intense eyes, dirty blonde hair and long, lithe limbs- that she was very aware of. She had many suitors begging for her hand in marriage but she had renounced them all, stating that she would only marry a future chief.
The position of chief was not inherited by bloodline (Bellamy would stand no chance if that were so) but by merit. For example, Tristan earned the position for his valor in the war. There were no wars at the moment but the hunters of the tribe-men who helped with survival- were all eligible. Miller had admitted he had no chance whatsoever because he was a sucky hunter who preferred standing on guard duty the whole day so he could interact with the tribe's children and flirt with Monroe when he wanted.
Lincoln never mentioned his ambitions, but Bellamy knew his friend had declined a seat at the council because the politics involved were tiring. He was fonder of exploring the forests and providing for the tribe without having to participate in trying meetings.
Bellamy had imagined himself as chief on more than one occasion but he had more doubts than certainties about the idea. He didn't know if he could handle the pressures of leadership (he had a short temper most days) and he didn't think Tristan would support him if he tried. There was also the matter of the chief having a wife. It was Grounder law that the man needed the woman to balance him and for a chief it was mandatory to have a capable woman at his side. Chief Tristan had Kala and Bellamy knew his mother offered advice deep into the night where the couple had serious discussions about anything and everything.
If Bellamy became chief the best match for his wife would be Anya, but they would be a political match at the most. They would have little trust and zero affection, let alone love. Tristan and Kala had been through a lot (including the death of their child) but there was genuine love between them. Bellamy wanted to say he had the same. If only there were another woman, the right woman for him.
"Bellamy! Hey, get your head out of the clouds. We're due back for the day's hunt." Lincoln had given him a light shove to bring him back to reality.
"Plus, you have the chief's daily lecture to look forward to. That guy must have told on us by now." Miller reminded them and Bellamy rolled his eyes.
"Great."
Clarke rolled out of bed, feeling both disoriented and tired as if she hadn't just slept seven hours. She didn't think she would get seasick and she wasn't exactly vomiting over the side of the boat, but her headaches were getting worse and if she stood or bent down too quickly, her vision would blur and a dizzy spell took over. Octavia had gone to speak to the captain in hopes of discovering how far they were from the supposed Australia.
Three weeks on the sea had proved rough and not as much as an adventure as either girl would have wanted. Octavia was relatively healthy but she was always bored and complaining about every little thing to Clarke, who only wanted to drink fruit juice and lay on her bed with a pillow over her eyes. They should have reached the island by now and yet here they were floating somewhere past the familiar European plain.
Clarke slowly righted herself, splashing water on her face from a small pitcher in the corner of the room. She changed from the flimsy nightdress to a comfortable long sleeved white blouse and brown pants with brown boots. It was abnormal for a woman to wear such clothing but Clarke could care less. She was on a boat in uncharted waters with a crew of men and her best friend looking for an island where fashion was certainly not of import to the natives or wild animals. Her mother had taken her shopping before the trip and they'd had to order custom-made pants and loose blouses for Clarke because the most comfortable option for a woman then was a calf-long skirt and tight blouse buttoned to the neck. The boots had been bought in the smallest men's sizes. Clarke hadn't really minded.
Octavia had some pants and shirts as well, but she strutted around in cotton dresses anyway. Clarke had convinced her to leave the silk and velvet ones at home but Octavia was dead set on looking perfect when she found her family. Clarke hadn't had the heart to argue with the girl.
After tying the boots Clarke made her way to the main deck, looking for her best friend and hoping some fresh air would ease the pounding in her head.
Doubtful but a girl can dream…
Clarke was preoccupied in her search for Octavia and so she didn't realize she was heading straight for an unsuspecting body. She gasped as she crashed into the back of the man in front of her and would have fallen if he hadn't turned and gripped her upper arms to steady her.
"Morning, Princess."
"Murphy, I've asked you to stop calling me that."
"I apologize. You're a beautiful one and I call them like I see them. I can find another nickname if you'd like."
"My name is fine."
He grinned mockingly.
"Alright, Clarke."
Clarke glared at him. She wanted to strangle Octavia for choosing this man to serve as their guide/protector through the forests. Yes, John Murphy had served as a capable guide on various safaris and expeditions, but he was a strange man with lurking danger behind his blue eyes. Clarke knew he had more than one hunting rifle in his cabin as well as several machetes, but she didn't exactly trust that he wouldn't turn them on her. He seemed like the type to turn on someone to suit his own needs, like an offer for more money. Clarke suspected he had a criminal past even though Octavia had scoffed at her for suggesting it.
"I was just looking for Octavia. Have you seen her?"
"She's with the captain."
"Thanks." She gave a forced smile and walked away.
The less time she spent with Murphy the better. She swore she could see a glint in her eyes that said "I've killed countless people before and I liked it" but she hadn't told Octavia that.
Octavia was conversing with the captain when she found her. The captain was a gentle man around her dad's age who treated them with utter respect and kindness. He smiled when Clarke came into the room and gestured for her to join them at the wheel.
"Good news, Ms. Griffin. We've spotted land and we're anchoring the ship at the shore."
"Thank God." Clarke breathed, but seeing the look on Octavia's face she sensed there was more to it than that. "What is it, O? You don't look pleased at the news."
"The captain didn't tell you the bad news."
"Bad news?"
"And the horrible news." Octavia said bitterly.
"Horrible news? Captain, what is it?" Clarke asked worriedly.
He hesitated before replying.
"We have not reached Australia."
"But I thought you spotted land." Clarke said, brow furrowed.
"Yes, but by my maps and calculations we are not at the reported location for Australia. Projections for the island's position were made by other explorers and sea captains, but our location does not match those coordinates."
"Ok, then why is the ship heading to that island?"
"This is the horrible news." Octavia chirped and the captain sighed.
"We are nearly out of supplies. The food supply is low and the fuel needed to supply the engines is lower. We have enough to return to the last port near Friens Island."
"But we need to get to Australia, not some island nearby."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Griffin, but like I was telling Ms. Blake there is no way to reach Australia with our supplies. I thought you might want to explore the island while the crew and I returned to the port to resupply our stores. When we return we can continue the voyage to Australia."
Clarke shook her head and stared at the deck of the ship. She and Octavia weren't interested in any sightseeing. They were looking for people they loved and Clarke's research was not for fun but to save lives. She needed to find those plants.
"How long will it take for you to come back?" she finally asked.
Octavia's head snapped towards her, expression fixed in incredulity.
"You can't seriously be considering stopping on that island! We have no idea what lives there! What if a wild animal rips our heads off?"
"We're at risk of animal attacks in Australia too and besides you brought Murphy for a reason, didn't you?"
Octavia exhaled in frustration.
"I need to find my family, Clarke!"
"We won't make it to them until the ship is resupplied! You've been bored out of your mind these past weeks. You really want to stay on this damn ship any longer than you have to? We have tents and dozens of suitcases with our things. We can make camp near the shore to be ready as soon as the boat returns. We will find them, O, I promised you we would and I don't break my promises."
"No, you don't." she admitted.
"Ok, then pack your things. We're going to shore. I'll tell Murphy to be ready."
Octavia looked back at the ocean before facing Clarke again and nodding.
"Okay."
The next chapter will definitely have the Bellarke meeting! I'll try to update soon and then add a chapter to Highway to Hell (my Supernatural/the 100 crossover story) if you're following that story as well.