Bellamy

Life was a pattern at Camp Jaha, much as it had been on the Ark. People had assigned tasks, teams, supervisors, and Bellamy had been absorbed into the guard after they'd returned from Mount Weather. Part of that had been Kane, putting in a good word for him- he'd proved himself with what he'd done in the mountain, proved he deserved to be a contributing member of society.

Bellamy had gritted his teeth at that little speech but held his tongue, stopped himself- somehow- from pointing out that Jaha had already pardoned him and it was offensive for Kane to act like he was granting him some special dispensation.

But the truth was, he needed a task. He had come back from Mount Weather with the others- finally, finally able to rest- and he had thought that things could return to some kind of normal. There would be an adjustment period, of course, but he and Clarke would help their people get used to whatever life was going to be like from now on. It would be something they would figure out together.

They had spent the last couple of months, since the dropship landed, just fighting for their lives. They had lost friends along the way, but now they could finally breathe, relax enough to figure out how to live rather than just survive.

He hadn't had any illusion that it would be easy, but it was a task to focus on and he wanted to help those kids through it. Leading them with Clarke, being her right-hand man, rescuing their people from Mount Weather… it had given him purpose when he'd needed it most, and he felt ready for the next challenge.

He was so angry at Clarke for leaving. He was angry at her for not saying a word about her plans during the hours it took for them to walk to Camp Jaha. He had been fine, then, to let the silence pass between them, knowing they each had a lot to think about. They had talked a few times- he'd told her of his time inside the mountain, she'd expressed her disbelief and grief about Lexa's betrayal, and they'd shared worries about the future. Not just about the new camp, but also about what the Grounders would be like now that there was no more alliance.

She hadn't even hinted at her plans to leave, and he was furious at her for that.

He didn't know when she had decided- whether it was at the moment they pulled that lever, whether it was sometime during the long walk home, or whether she'd just stopped short in that last ten metres before the gate, looked around, and realised she couldn't do it.

But no matter when she had decided to leave, he was angry that she hadn't told him, angry that she hadn't discussed it with him, and most of all he was angry that he had failed to stop her.

On the days he was honest with himself, Bellamy had to admit that he was also angry because he understood. He had tried to leave too, once, felt it was for the best- a lifetime ago, when he thought Octavia hated him and he was still running from what he believed he'd done to Jaha. He had planned to abandon the dropship, Octavia, Clarke, the camp, everyone, and just disappear.

He was angry because she had talked him out of it then, but he hadn't been able to do the same for her.

The anger he felt for her was the same anger he carried against himself, but only one of them was there to blame. So he took the brunt of it, half the time trying to bury her memory in frustration and half the time raising her up on a pedestal of understanding. Neither one was entirely true.

A few days after Clarke had gone, when it became clear she'd been serious, wasn't going to just change her mind and come back, he'd sought out Monty- the only person she'd told about her plans to leave, just moments before she and Bellamy had said their goodbyes.

"What did she tell you?" he'd demanded, not even bothering to explain what he was talking about.

Monty's dark eyes had gone soft, had dropped to the ground. "Just that she couldn't stay," he'd said quietly. "That it was too hard, after everything."

"Too hard," Bellamy repeated, his voice scathing. "What, did she think it was easy for the rest of us? For me?"

"No," Monty answered, shaking his head, looking up at Bellamy with a small shrug. "She was only talking about herself."

"Only thinking about herself, you mean," Bellamy had snapped.

Monty had sighed, shaking his head again. "I'm sure she was thinking you'd hold down the fort for her. She didn't want to go, Bellamy. But you know Clarke… what we did in there, it was too much for her. She needs time to come to terms with it."

"And yet you and me are still here," he'd countered. "We were in that room too, we had just as much responsibility as she did, but we didn't run away. I was the one who actually interacted with those people, but I pulled the lever, too."

"And I lived there for weeks," Monty had said quietly. "Look, I know you're mad. But you're not mad at me."

Bellamy had let out an angry breath, nodded, softened. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I was just hoping she'd given you a better answer than the one she gave me."

Monty shrugged a little, shifting uncomfortably. "She did what she thought was right. You know that, even if you don't like it."

"And you didn't try to talk her out of it?"

"No," he replied honestly. "I didn't, because I got it. I was there and I knew firsthand how awful it was to do what we did… even if it was for the best, it doesn't change how it felt to do it. Isn't that why you didn't talk her out of it either?"

Bellamy had stayed quiet for a long time. Finally he'd opened his mouth, closed it. He'd left Monty alone without saying anything, and they'd never spoken of it again.

Weeks had passed since then, and Bellamy had grown to rely on the guard as a way both to have focus in his life, and also to belong. Just like on the Ark, being part of the guard held certain advantages- respect, privilege, autonomy. He had access to more knowledge than most people, could participate in decision-making within the camp, had tasks that kept him busy. It helped.

He had been telling Monty the truth, that the two of them were just as affected as Clarke by what had happened; the mountain had changed him, too, not just the decision to irradiate but everything that had happened before that. He would never forget the name Lovejoy, the way the man's windpipe slipped sideways and popped under his fingers, or the bright-eyed wonder of Lovejoy's little boy, who'd hoped for nothing more than to hear that his father had stood outside under a bright, warm sun.

Bellamy would never forget the screams of those kids who were drilled, the ones he was too late to save. He would never forget the feeling of the blood and strength slowly draining out of him, the dull ache of his legs as they hung suspended from the ceiling. He would never forget the fear in the eyes of those people in the cages, the desperation as they crouched there, trapped and frightened and hopeless. He would never forget Fox's arms around him as she hugged him close, thinking she was free.

All of those images and more came to him in his dreams. It had been hard for him to sleep since Mount Weather, since Clarke left. Nothing could totally eliminate the nightmares, or the hours he spent staring at the ceiling or rolling uncomfortably from side to side, as though it was a problem with his mattress rather than his memories.

It reminded him of how he'd felt in that year after Aurora was floated and Octavia was arrested- lonely, depressed, angry, lost. Those feelings had eased when he'd seen his sister again, so he could only imagine that Clarke's return was the answer to his suffering now, but he had no idea if that would ever happen. So he just tried to take it day by day, sometimes hour by hour, tried to busy his hands and his mind so there would be no room to think of anything else.

Some days it worked, some days it didn't, but the sun always rose and set either way, and time passed just the same. Bellamy might not have been happy, but he was living, and he chose to see that as a success. Most nights he wondered where Clarke was, if she was alive, because no matter how much he tried to distract himself from the images that plagued him, that one image- of Clarke, wrapping her arms around him, asking him to take care of everyone for her, saying goodbye- that image seemed impossible to forget.