Have some S2-S3 fluff!
Arkadia
Abby isn't sure burning the Camp Jaha sign sends the right message but the kids tossed it in the fire with such enthusiasm before mounting the new sign across the main doors that she hasn't found it in her to stop them. They meant the name as a tribute when they first touched the ground but Arkadia is maybe a more fitting one anyway. A promise of a new way.
She watches, from the mouth of the station, as the kids laugh and dance to the stereo system Raven managed to hook on the camp's speakers and she feels old. She can't remember the last time she's been that carefree. She knows it's most likely just a front, that most of those kids are haunted by what happened at the mountain, but that's the strength of youth: it's resilient.
When Abby thinks back to Mount Weather, she cannot help the chill that runs down her spine or the churn of her stomach.
"I didn't get the memo about a party."
She startles and a hand falls on her arm, steadying her – always steadying her.
She's starting to wonder how she functioned for so long without Marcus Kane at her side to balance her out and it is a frightening thought all in itself.
His reckon team passed the doors a little after the party started and the fact he hasn't come to find her first thing tells her there is nothing to report. No Grounder sighting and no Clarke. She will ask anyway, later.
"Apparently, tossing Jaha in the fire was a long fantasy of theirs and it calls for celebration." she answers, fighting a smile because she shouldn't find it that funny.
It's hard not to feel resentful though, not to hold a grudge. She might have pardoned their former Chancellor for coming back from Lexa's camp without Marcus, but she wouldn't forgive suggesting abandoning him or trying to seize power back or even leaving them to die and leading good people away to their probable death.
"Who was brave enough to sell you that?" Marcus chuckles and she tries not to notice how deep the sound is.
There are a lot of things she tries not to notice about Marcus lately. How the shadows from the campfires play on his face, making his eyes shine in the dark… How the stubble he hasn't bothered to shave in a few days is developing in a strangely attractive beard… How his hair seems wild and untamed and how she longs to run her fingers through it just to…
"Bellamy." she shrugs because it's obvious. She softens when her eyes fall on the slightly drunk young man who is dancing with Harper as if there will be no tomorrow. There's something desperate to his movements. She can understand. She's desperate to forget too. "I think he wanted to do something nice for the kids."
And it worked. Mostly. Even Jasper crawled out from his hiding place. The boy isn't dancing or laughing but he's drinking and answering when people talk to him. It's progress, she supposes. He doesn't shrug Monroe's hand off when she places it on his shoulder.
"He's not doing too well." Marcus tells her, his gaze still on Bellamy.
It isn't really necessary. She knows. She knows because of the guilt that flashes on the boy's face every time he dares meet her eyes. He's been out there for days after Mount Weather, leading teams and going off alone despite Marcus' strict orders. Then, he felt guilty because he failed to find Clarke. Now, he feels guilty because it's been weeks and it's become clear Clarke won't be found until she wants to.
She stays silent because she doesn't really know what to say.
She's not doing too well either, truth be told, but she's the Chancellor and the Chancellor isn't really allowed to let her personal problems get in the way.
Still, she's grateful when Marcus leans against the wall next to her, his shoulder and arm pressed against hers. It's a comfort to know she's not alone, that she's never alone.
She watches Gina take Harper's place, watches Bellamy's face slowly turn to more genuine mirth… She hasn't entirely been oblivious to that development. She hasn't been spying but… She isn't sure what's going on between Clarke and Bellamy exactly, she is pretty sure nothing romantic happened but it is obvious to her they are close, closer than mere friends, and she's been watching because…
Because she's Clarke's mother and she's looking out for her? It seems stupid. Clarke left and Bellamy has been miserable for weeks. Besides, Gina is a nice kind-hearted girl.
"I have a feeling he will get better." she comments eventually when Gina loops her arms around the boy's neck and Bellamy wraps his around her waist. She says it in a teasing tone, not judgmental but glad because Bellamy's been through enough and deserves some kind of happiness.
Marcus' face is pensive, though.
"Griffin women aren't so easy to forget, you know." he jokes after a couple of minutes. "It doesn't matter how beautiful or perfect the other girl is. I guarantee no matter how angry he will find himself at Clarke's side again."
There is a note of yearning in his voice that makes her look at him with uncertainty. Her heart is racing in her chest, thumping so loud she's almost surprised it doesn't cover the loud beats of the music. "Marcus?"
The look on his face is so vulnerable, so open…
She wonders what he means exactly. How long? Why he didn't say anything. She wonders if the other girl was Callie and how much of a terrible person it makes her to never find time to grieve her best friend. She wonders if…
He turns to face her, his shoulder still against the wall, encasing her a little… He's not trapping her, he's not pinning her there, her left side is wide open and she can easily slip away if she wants to. But she doesn't want to.
She mirrors his position, turning her back on the rest of the world, creating a safe place between the two of them, a private bubble. He lifts his hand and it hovers uncertainly for a second or two before tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. They're mostly out of sight in the shadow of the station so she leans into his hand.
It's thrilling.
It's such a simple thing it shouldn't be that thrilling.
He cups her cheek, his thumb runs over her cheekbone and she holds her breath, doesn't quite dare take a step forward… Their eyes meet and his gaze is so tender… He leans in slowly and she tilts her head to the side, fisting his jacket in her hand, tugging him closer, eager to…
His radio crackles to life.
"Sir, can you come check the south fence? I think it's going to fall apart." Miller's voice requests.
They both sigh but move back, smiling at each other with some awkward embarrassment.
"The south fence is collapsing?" she worries – because she is a responsible Chancellor who has her priorities straight.
"I asked Sinclair to look into it." he offers. "It doesn't look as safe as the rest of the perimeter to me." He reaches for his radio. "On my way, Miller."
The response is immediate. "Copy that, sir."
Marcus rubs the back of his neck and points in the vague direction of the south. "I have to…"
"Yes." she agrees readily. A little too readily maybe. Now that they're not caught up in the moment... "Give me a report, after? I'm going to the war room. I still have some work to do."
"I'll check it out and come and help you." he promises.
She doesn't bother to protest. First because she needs his help and then because he will give it no matter if she wants him to or not. It's how their evenings usually go: in the war room, reviewing reports to find how best to make the camp grow and studying various requests for more housings. The two of them can barely keep on top of everything. If she were alone…
"Bring tea." she demands.
"Yes, ma'am." he chuckles.
She watches him leave with a small smile, admiring his figure in the campfires' light, not quite sure of what just happened and what it means.
They fell from the sky together, her hand trapped in his, his arm around her shoulders as if he had any chance of protecting her from being blown apart…
They fell from the sky together and, she thinks, maybe they are still falling.