Octavia

Once Bellamy woke up that last time, and he was no longer crazy, no longer irrational or dangerous, she and Clarke undid his restraints and Clarke cleaned and dressed the wounds on his wrists and ankles.

"So that's it, right?" Octavia asked nervously as she watched Clarke working, watched her brother's head bowed towards her, a soft smile on his lips. He looked peaceful- truly peaceful- for the first time in weeks. They both turned and looked at her so she clarified, "He's fine now?"

Clarke nodded. "He's through the worst of it." She pressed her fingers lightly into Bellamy's chest, feeling for the rib she'd broken during resuscitation. He hissed a little in pain, but Clarke nodded her head, seeming satisfied. "It'll heal, just take it easy."

Octavia's eyes slid to her brother. "Bell?"

"I'm okay," he assured her, reaching out the one hand that was now dressed in clean white bandages. She went to him and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side.

"He'll always be an addict," Clarke said, drawing the attention of both Blakes back to her. "He'll always crave it. It's part of his biochemistry now."

Octavia thought of Lincoln, how they'd worked so hard to detox him and then, when he was faced with the opportunity again, he'd still taken the drug. She felt tears welling up in her eyes- thinking of Lincoln, yes, but also thinking of Bellamy, of what could still happen to him. Lincoln was so strong, yet still he'd bowed to that overpowering craving. Would Bellamy do the same?

"Hey, O, it's okay," her brother said gently, pulling her from her thoughts. "That's not going to happen."

She shot him a grateful look for reading her mind and pulled in a deep breath, steadying herself, nodding. "I know."

Delicately Clarke said, "I'm sure we can all agree that we never want to step foot in the Ice Nation ever again. So as long as we stay away from anywhere that has Red, you should be fine."

All eyes slid to Lia now, still perched on her chair in the corner, still watching them all, as though they were performing a fascinating play. They all gave her an opportunity to speak, but she said nothing, she just slid off her chair and walked outside.

Octavia felt the baby stirring inside her, the baby that Echo had taught her to keep close, nurture but not unleash. It was a rage baby, wanting vengeance. But instead of going after Lia and strangling her or stabbing her as she wanted to, she just looked at Clarke and her brother and asked, "So what are we going to do with her?"

"Nothing," Bellamy said right away. "There's nothing we can do. You know what she's capable of."

"Well what is she still doing here, then?" Octavia growled. "She said she'd bring us here, see us safely to the gates. Well we're here, we're safe- bonus, you're through with that horrible drug. Why doesn't she just go?"

Softly Clarke said, taping off the last bandage, "There's nowhere she can go." She smiled at Bellamy and added, "Those should heal up fine. We'll just keep them clean."

"Thanks," Bellamy said softly, curling his fingertips along Clarke's arm.

"She can't stay here," Octavia spoke up, interrupting their moment. "And neither can I."

That got Bellamy's attention and he slid off the bed and onto his feet, his brow furrowed, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Hey, what are you talking about?"

"I can't," she said, shrugging away from his touch, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice wavered as she insisted, "There's nothing for me here."

She caught Clarke's sympathetic look and for some reason that made her even more angry, even more upset.

But Bellamy stroked a hand over her hair and grounded her enough that she didn't bolt. He said softly, "O. Come on, we talked about this. I'm here."

Octavia shook her head. "We were wrong," she told him. "This is a graveyard, Bell. I can't stay here- it's going to make me crazy." Now that he was better, she could no longer shove her claustrophobia down as easily. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to get out of here, into the woods, somewhere big and open and safe, and not filled with dead bodies and memories of the man she loved.

"Well she's right about that," Clarke said quietly. "This is a graveyard."

"Okay," Bellamy said, drawing in a deep breath. Octavia watched him steel himself for the next challenge and she felt a pang of guilt- would he ever be able to rest? Would any of them?

"Bell, just rest," she said gently. "Let's all just rest here for the night and we'll figure it out in the morning."

The glance that passed between Bellamy and Clarke told her that they wanted nothing more than to do that, to just sleep and put their problems off until the morning.

Bellamy eyed her carefully and asked, "Are you going to run?"

Octavia shook her head. Sincerely she said, "No, I'm not going to run."

She had lied to him- really lied to him- exactly once in her life, after he'd tortured Lincoln and she'd asked her if he'd helped him escape, she'd lied to his face and said that she didn't. They'd both known it hadn't been true, and they'd both been uncertain about what to do with that knowledge. But she was telling the truth now; she wasn't going to run.

Bellamy nodded and said, "Okay then."

"What about his heart?" Octavia asked Clarke. "Is it still dangerous for him to run?"

"We should monitor you for a little while longer," Clarke said, answering Octavia's question but addressing Bellamy. "I'd like to keep you on the monitor overnight, and maybe part of tomorrow too depending on what the readings are in the morning."

Octavia stepped close to Bellamy and put her hand on his chest, closing her eyes to feel the rhythm of his heart. It was still weird, but definitely less weird. She glanced at the monitor and noticed that even the little line blipping across the screen looked better- no longer so erratic, it was more or less in an even pattern.

She dropped her hand and looked at Clarke, nodding. "Well, at least we can all get cleaned off in the solar showers and eat a proper meal," she said to them. Again, they both looked like they thought that was the best idea in the world.

"I want you to stay on this monitor for another hour, and then we can disconnect it and you can get cleaned up," Clarke told Bellamy. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Sure thing," he said, smiling gently at her. "I'm just glad to be alive. A shower can wait."

"Well, let's not wait too long," Octavia teased him gently. "Because you stink."

The laughter that caused seemed to melt away the rest of the tension and Bellamy eased himself back on the bed. Octavia watched Clarke take his hand and she knew they probably needed a minute. Touching Clarke's arm lightly she said, "I'll start up the showers. See you there."

Clarke nodded and smiled at her. "I'll be there soon."

Octavia went down the hall to room that had been repurposed as a communal latrine and shower area, one of the first things that had been set up at Camp Jaha. God forbid anyone feel like a savage in this new world, she tried not to think too scathingly. Even though the electricity was down, the showers were just black bags heated by the sun through the skylights, and it was a beautiful day, so she knew they would still work.

Undressing, Octavia tucked her clothes into a cubby and just stood there for a moment, feeling strange with the cool tile under her feet, the only one here in this big room. Finally she shook the thought away, focusing on how nice it would be to feel clean. She grabbed some shampoo and stepped into one of the cubicles, closing the door and turning the plug on the bag to open the shower. Warm water cascaded down her body and she just stood there for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

She tried not to think of Raven Rock, the last time she'd had a shower, the decontamination room or everything that came after. The flowing water mingled with the tears on her face as she thought of Lincoln, imagined his blood on the similar tile floor of her room in the mountain. If only he could have stayed alive… if only he could be here with her now. Why did it have to happen that way? What was the point?

Octavia heard the door to the room open and she pulled back her tears, calling out, "Clarke?" She wanted to make sure it wasn't Lia.

"It's me," Clarke's voice came back, and Octavia heard her step into the cubicle next to hers. Her own water started to flow, followed by a contented sigh.

"Feels good, huh?" Octavia said with a smile, glad to be distracted from her thoughts.

"Bellamy's going to be okay now," Clarke said gently. Octavia wasn't sure if she said it because she could tell that she'd been crying, or if she was just saying it out loud to reassure them both.

"Thanks to you," Octavia answered warmly. "I knew you'd save him." It wasn't that she was no longer angry at Clarke- on some level, she would always hold bitterness against her for tonDC, for Lexa- but she also felt so much gratitude that she'd saved Bellamy's life, and Lincoln's before him, and her respect for her was growing and becoming strong again.

A silence grew between them, but it was comfortable. Only when the last droplets of water had been shaken from the bag did Octavia grudgingly leave her cubicle, stepping out into the main room and grabbing a towel. Again, it felt very strange to be in that room alone, when normally there were so many people passing through, busy and chatting, laughing and joking. Describing Camp Jaha as a graveyard felt very fitting.

Octavia heard Clarke's cubicle open and glanced over, flashing her a grin as she asked, "Wasn't that the best-" She broke off, frowning as she saw Clarke staring at her, her eyes huge and her mouth hanging open.

Blushing, Octavia wrapped the towel around herself and a bit of annoyance slipped into her voice as she said, "You're into Bellamy, remember? Not me."

"No," Clarke said, shaking her head, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as well, but it faded almost immediately as she closed the distance between them and just stared at her. There was something about the expression that Octavia didn't like, that made her feel nervous- it looked like Clarke wanted to tell her something but didn't know how, or was afraid of what her reaction might be.

"Spit it out," she said finally, a bit harsher than she intended. Clarke drew in a deep breath but she still hesitated. "Seriously!" she snapped. "What?"

"Octavia, you're pregnant," Clarke said, her voice full of disbelief, swallowing hard as she shook her head. "Please tell me you know that you're pregnant."

Octavia stared at her, thinking she must be absolutely insane. Then she looked down at herself. For the first time she noticed the gentle roundness protruding from her belly, felt the slight heaviness there, and as she put her hand on her lower tummy and splayed her fingers below her belly button, pressing firmly with her palm, it felt strange, like she'd swallowed a particularly ripe fruit.

She felt like she was going to vomit, like she might pass out. Her knees went weak and she staggered, but Clarke reached out to grab her, supporting her weight and easing her down to the floor, where she knelt beside her, wrapping her in a towel.

"Lincoln," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her stomach, hardly able to believe it, yet somehow knowing without a shadow of a doubt that it was true. Clarke nodded, reaching up to press a palm against her cheek. Octavia looked at her and whispered, "But I don't feel anything." Her heart clenched in sudden horror and she wondered if it was dead, if she'd poisoned it over the last few weeks, imagining an angry little baby of rage living inside her.

But Clarke's voice was reassuring as she said gently, "You wouldn't yet. You look like you're less than halfway through. It's normal not to feel anything."

Octavia drew in a deep breath and let it out shakily, astounded by how relieved she felt. She let Clarke pull her into her arms, let her stroke her hair as she sobbed into her shoulder. All she felt was grief- horrible, unending grief- and no happiness at all. Wasn't something like this supposed to be joyful?

But all she could think about was how Lincoln was dead, how he'd never know about this, how young and unprepared she was, and how bad the timing was for something like this, how scary it felt to be facing it now, but also how precious this life was- her one chance to keep something of him. The combination of emotions- of fears and hopes- was absolutely overwhelming.

"What am I going to do?" Octavia whispered.

Clarke gave her a gentle smile and said, "Let's start with getting up off this floor, how about that?"

Drawing in a big breath, Octavia wiped the tears from her face and nodded, getting to her feet. The two of them dried off and put their clothes back on, and Octavia noticed that the soft leathers weren't tight across her stomach- not yet. Maybe Clarke was right- maybe things were still early enough that she wouldn't have messed this up yet.

"How long were we gone?" she asked, trying to figure it out. She tried to think back to all the travelling, the different places she'd been, the changes in the season. "Three months?"

"Almost four by what Bellamy told me," Clarke said gently. "So you must be at least that far along, maybe a bit further."

Octavia knew it took nine months to have a baby. The prospect of how little time remained was totally daunting. It made her feel dizzy with dread, and then guilt.

Lia suddenly appeared in the doorway and said, "There is movement in the woods, near the fence. Bellamy is waiting for you outside and he is very agitated."

Clarke shot Octavia the most apologetic look she'd ever seen and then bolted from the room. Pulling in a breath to steady herself, Octavia followed. Clarke was standing with Bellamy down the corridor- Octavia checked his eyes to see if he'd overheard anything, but he hadn't- he still didn't know. It was so strange that something so profound was happening in her life, and her brother didn't know.

Clarke was saying, "We should have repaired the fence."

"Come on," Octavia said as she joined them, actually grateful for the distraction, pushing all thoughts of pregnancy aside. "None of us know how to do that."

"Well we should have figured it out!" Clarke snapped at her, but Octavia wasn't angry. She knew Clarke wasn't either- she was scared.

Bellamy put a hand on Clarke's shoulder and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. He asked Lia, "Could you see who it was?"

"No," the little girl answered. "I suggest you conceal yourselves inside the station. It may be that the people who killed your friends are returning to check for survivors or raid the camp for supplies."

Octavia hated that idea- of hiding, cowering in fear while people scoured their former home. "If there aren't too many then we can stay hidden until they come close and attack them," she suggested. "Maybe take one alive so we can figure out who they are and what they want."

"That's too dangerous," Clarke said, giving her a pointed look, which irritated her- as if she'd suddenly become incompetent to fight.

Before she could retort anything, Lia said, almost conversationally, "If they are the enemy, would you like me to kill them all except for one so you can question him?"

"No," Octavia snapped, then thought better of it. Grudgingly she added, "But that would be a good idea."

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a look and then Clarke said to Lia, "Do it."

The girl walked off calmly, and Clarke led them back into sickbay and towards the back, where there was a little closet used to store medicines and supplies. Clarke barricaded the door with one of the heavy metal trolleys, locking them in.

Octavia could feel Bellamy's eyes on her. "Is this okay?" he asked her quietly.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said, maybe a little too short with him. "Has to be done- just like in the floor."

He nodded, but she saw the concern linger in his eyes, which didn't really help her ignore the feeling of being confined and stifled. She just reminded herself it was temporary- Lia was a machine, she'd work fast.

Inside that little room, the secret that she and Clarke now held together seemed incredibly big. If Bellamy sensed it, he didn't ask any questions. She debated talking to him now, but she had no idea how he'd react and she knew they still had to be careful about his heart. So she stayed quiet, but it felt so wrong.

If Octavia was being fully honest, she desperately wanted his comfort, his advice, to tell him what was happening and hear him say that it would somehow be okay. Maybe from his lips, she would believe it.