The Days That Bind Us

Title from the song Bad Blood by Bastille

Life has been crazier than normal lately. Sorry for the delay. Last weekend, I decided I would post Chapter 2 by Thursday 10/18/18, NO MATTER WHAT. Sooo... here it is.

93 Days to the End con't

Polis

Through the hallways, into the lift, and out into the grim, murky predawn outside, Monty followed Clarke. With her slumped shoulders and heavy eyes, she didn't seem to notice. It wasn't like her to show her weariness so frankly. Standing out of the way, the younger delinquent watched as she slung her shoulder bag over the rough saddle, before throwing herself up in the hasty, awkward way that was all determination, rather than finesse.

Shifting about restlessly, she glared around, from where the Trikru men were already sitting stiffly upon their own horses, to the tower's entrance, from which neither Bellamy nor Monroe had emerged yet. She spotted him then, summoning up a fond smile, and short wave, which he returned shyly.

A yawn escaped her, and after, she kept her eyes closed, as if resting even perched on her little mare.

It was too early, probably, to go knocking on the healers' center door. When she looked away again, turning halfway around in her saddle to dig through her bag, Monty wandered away, deep in thought.

Polis

The commander looked over the assembly critically. She had ordered the fourteen chairs to make a tight half-circle, just before her dais. Never before had them come together in such closeness. The newcomers were most likely unaware of this, but Octavia kom Skaikru, seated between Indra kom Trikru and Uzac kom Broadleaf, already knew what was coming. The sky girl looked bored and restless, her gaze swooping around the otherwise empty room. Several seats away on the other side of the demi-lune, David kom Arkadia, with creased brow, hands gripping the armrests unconsciously, on his own in diplomatic matters for the first time, as the Skaikru advisers had held his hand until now. In the middle, the farthest chair from her throne, sat the empty Azgeda seat.

Both Skaikru and Arkadia had been stripped of their communicative devices, and from now until they were safely ensconced within the sanctuaries, the ambassadors would be under heavy watch.

At her side, stood the flame-keeper, as always, but she had intended for Wanheda to take the opposite position, for she too, as the commander, as the flame-keeper, was above a mere clan. Yet Clarke had rushed from the city before the morning had even truly began, her guards informed her. She should be here.

"Today, we come together, for the first time, to contemplate the end of our world, and the beginning of a new era." announced Lexa slowly, meeting each of their eyes in turn as she spoke.

On the way to Hundred Camp

The farther they got from Polis, the more Bellamy relaxed. She had not started the ride in a good mood to begin with, and yet the grumpier Monroe became. By the time they'd remounted after a brief break mid-way, Clarke was wearily annoyed with herself that she hadn't suggested the gunner stay back in Polis. Putting a day's distance between the angry girl and oblivious Bellamy would have been the smarter thing.

Stomach churning unpleasantly, Clarke squirmed in her saddle. Again.

"Hey Bellamy? Clarke?" the radio crackled to life. Wick's voice came through, tight, and tense, and chills spread down their spines.

"Got a bit of a-" there was a broken pause -"development here."

None of the riders could make out much sense of the background noise, but Octavia's sharp, irritated tones came through. Not the actual words she was barking out, however.

"We're here," answered Bellamy loudly, even as he tried to stop his horse one-handed, and uncertain.

"Go ahead, Wick," - Clarke.

She leaned in closer, edging her mare next to Bellamy's. Caliban held up a hand to his men, and they stopped, a few feet back. Giving the illusion of privacy at least.

"The commander is confiscating our radios." blurted their engineer. "Due to-"

"Which she would have explained if you had been present for today's meetings," cut in Octavia- hissing the words close to the radio.

Clarke grimaced, and Monroe muttered with a smirk about the great wanheda playing hooky. Out of the loop, Bellamy just raised his brows.

"How'd it go?" asked Clarke.

A shudder crashed over her at the frustrated huff Octavia expelled.

"Not great. Could've been worse." - O

"What does that mean, O?" demanded Bellamy, but the radio went dead.

Then Wick came back. "We can radio every night, and if there's an emergency. Everything's fine. Watch your six."

Silence again, till Octavia came back.

"Lincoln and I are going with the Floukru ambassador. Leaving tomorrow. Should be back in about a week."

With cautions and farewells quickly exchanged, Bellamy grimly slid the radio back onto his belt. Monroe grumbled about Harper, and Clarke tried to slow her heartbeat after the rush of adrenaline. She looked back towards their Trikru escorts with a strained smile and nod. At their acquiescence, she nudged her firmly with her heels to set them back into motion at a smooth run. The overcast grey day seemed all the more dreary now, thought Clarke. Every rustle from the evergreen trees, every voice from people unseen, prickled at the trio of Skaikru as they continued through the paths toward home.

When the surroundings began to hint at home, Bellamy's face eased, and his shoulders fell loose. By the time they hit the thick woods where they had to slow to a walk, knowing Hundred Camp was only a half-hour further, he was grinning as he kept his head on a swivel. Conversely, Monroe's mouth bunched tighter into a pout, and her gaze fixed firmly away from him. Instead, she rode at Clarke's side, before falling in behind her once the paths narrowed. Leaving Bellamy to the silent, wary company of the Trikru.

Polis, Mid-Morning

"Um, Miss? Err, Healer?" stammered Monty, flushing and frowning as he tried to think of the most respectful way to address the grounder in front of him.

Logically, he knew she was only about three years older than him, according to Miller, at least. But there was no way to think at the fierce set of her bare shoulders, covered in spirals of leaves inked into her dark skin, nor the impatient furrow in her brows, or the clenched jaw... and think "just another kid, like me."

"My name is Costia kom Trikru." gritted out the older teenager. "And I am a healer's second." she added tightly, glaring at the Skaikru boy.

Looking anywhere but at her bright, flashing eyes, Monty nodded urgently.

"Right. Yes. Of course." he agreed.

He stood there, blocking the doorway, and quiet, looking around what he could see of the room around her.

"Do you need a healer?" asked Costia flatly.

Monty's gaze snapped back to hers.

"Uhhh- well, yes, I mean, not need, per say, but I am hoping to ask some questions. I could, um, make an appointment?" he rambled uncertainty.

Her brows rose, and after a moment, she sighed.

"Why?"

"Harper, my, uh, girlfriend, wants a tattoo. But she wants me to do it. And I've never done one. Or seen it done. We didn't do that in space. I mean, total waste of resources. Of course, not down here. But, yea. And I heard that healers do tattoos, so I don't even know if I can learn, but umm.."

"You want to be trained in marking skin?" asked the young healer's apprentice impatiently.

"Want is perhaps a strong word for it, but I would appreciate it... I mean, Harper really wants me to be the one who does it even though I have the artistic skill of a snail, and Monroe wants one too..."

"If you do not want to learn, then why do you ask?" bit out Costia, inching backwards, preparing to slam the heavy, creaking door shut in his face.

He noticed, and flushed, shifting his feet, unsure whether to step forwards, blocking it fully, or get out of the way.

"She wants me to. And Harper's never really asked me for anything, you know? Besides to stop hogging the pillows, I mean." blurted out Monty quickly.

Costia had already begun to swing shut the door, but at the last moment, caught it, and stood there, with her hand gripping the side of it, and it shut enough it was between them.

She sighed, again.

"Alright." she muttered, before she even reopened the door.

With narrowed eyes, and her teeth still gritted, Costia sharply ushered him inside the healers' center, shutting the door roughly behind him.

"You are, at least, sixteen years of age, I assume?" demanded the young healer's apprentice, before turning away instead of waiting for his answer.

"Um, yes, of course. Actually, I turned seventeen, a few weeks ago."

With a huff that must have meant as accepting his answer, she lead him through the maze of the sunlight only-lit building, upstairs, to one of the smaller rooms.

"Not only healers perform markings. It is a skill so simple a child could learn, but they are not supposed to be taught, not marked, before they'd survived their first sixteen years."

Past Nightfall

"Open the gates! It's Bellamy, and Clarke, and Monroe!" called the kid on watch as soon as they came into the light of his torch.

As they creakily opened, Monroe darted in the moment there was space enough. The reins of her horse dropped upon the ground, for Bellamy to pick up wearily. Avoiding watching that as much as she could help, Clarke also hurried off her own horse, loosening the girth as soon as her feet hit the ground. It was harder to look the gruff bear of a warrior in the eye now, so Clarke said farewells quickly, with her eyes mostly on her sweaty, still warm horse. Likewise, Bellamy was caring for each of the geldings in turn, loosening the saddles, and easing the bags down off their backs.

"Two days," agreed Caliban, then leading his men off into the dark forest towards Ton DC.

With the gate held open, Sterling and Fox came hustling out, with a few of the younger boys following close behind, elbowing each other for position. Since caring for the horses whenever needed meant getting turns to take them out for rides in the woods when they weren't needed, it was a popular chore for the bravest kids. Monroe had groaned that making the trip to Polis and back would cure them of it though.

With Bellamy handing the pair over to Fox, and an eager, hardworking fourteen year old from the camp crew, Kade, Clarke was fairly sure, she handed her own reins over to Sterling. Knowing he'd walk the valuable animal well for a slow cool down before getting her settled for the night, she could relax herself.

Together, with their bags slung over their shoulders, Clarke and Bellamy walked tiredly into camp. Exhausted for the hard ride, but happy to be home, Clarke was grinning as she took in the mellow chaos of the camp, interrupted during dinner. As they came fully into the camp, making the corner, the smile fell over her face, and Bellamy stiffened up so fast he became a statue at her side.

Faces grim, Atom with his shoulders squared, and Jasper fidgeting with something in his hands, the pair waited with what could only be bad news.

"Dinner's on." offered Jasper, a sheepish grin awkward on his face, as if they wouldn't notice the hundred all crowded around the fire with their rough, wood carved bowls, sharing roasted deer, and berries, and onions, as usual, turning to greet them somberly.

Atom sighed.

"I'm sorry." he offered first.

The boy fell silent a long, drawn out moment, as he struggled to find the words.

She made herself eat, at Bellamy's nagging and his arm around her shoulder steering her to a log to sit on. A bowl of rations choked down, and she slunk out, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, to the graveyard. Their dead, lining the wall, contained a fresh grave. At this rate... Already sitting there, was another girl. Clarke lowered her head guilty, walking slowly around till she stood over both Mary and the grave that held Derek.

"I'm sorry." murmured Clarke. Hesitantly, she grabbed the other girl's hand, trying to offer something close to comfort.

Sniffling, then Mary looked up, exposing the silvery tear tracks on her face in the dim light, what little reached them from the torches on the wall.

"We don't even know what happened," the Farm Station girl forced out, her voice thick and hoarse from crying.

After walking Mary back into the dropship for the night, the young mom-to-be exhausted by the crying jags on top of everything else, Clarke returned back to stillness of the dark open space beyond the tight confines of the camp's walls. The forest was never truly silent- there was always the crickets, if nothing else at night. It was close enough for her though, especially after Polis, where even at midnight, people were moving around, patrolling, preparing for the next day, tending to livestock who'd kept them up for one reason or another...

Sitting with her back against a tree, facing out away from camp, just outside the furthest reaches of the watcher's torches up on the wall... this is where Bellamy found Clarke again.

"C'mon, you shouldn't be back out here alone." grumbled the camp leader.

Her face titled up at him with raised brows, and she shrugged half-heartedly.

"Not like Azgeda could mobilize their army already. With our luck, their entire army will show the day before we try to move into the bunkers." muttered the blonde.

Sighing, he stepped over her stretched out legs to sink down on the other side of her, sharing the tree to lean against.

"We've got a problem, Princess."

Painfully quiet, and deathly serious, Bellamy's voice cut through the relief of coming home.

"There's always another problem waiting." thought Clarke, but she only grunted out an acknowledgment.

"I hung around the fire a while... nobody's happy, and isn't not all about the summit, and Derek." said Bellamy.

Procrastinating, he shifted a bit around, nudging his shoulder more into hers as he tried in vain to get comfortable. The bark biting into his back through the layers of his jacket and shirts. Staying silent, with her gaze fixed straight ahead, into the nothingness of the dark forest, where the trees were thick enough to hardly allow any moonlight down, Clarke waited.

"They um, the kids..." began the one-time guard cadet, seeming to stumble over his words, rarely a problem for a man that was such a brilliant orator.

"What's wrong, Bell?" pushed Clarke tiredly, ready for her bed, and hoping whatever Bellamy had to say wasn't going to stand between her and that familiar pile of furs for too long.

"Some of them, they're... uhhh. They're dreaming. About dying. Um, really specific ways of dying."

The familiar walls and trees of their home shifted, weaving around her, and Clarke would have dropped to the ground if not for Bellamy lunging forwards to grab her- pulling her to his chest.

"No!" she denied desperately, but he shook his head, she felt it as his chin brushed over her hair.

"Why? Why now?" whispered Clarke, still clinging to him frantically. "Why now!"

Holding her tightly, without even room for a breathe between them, he just shook his head again, not even knowing enough to guess, and she began to cry, not graceful, quiet weeping he'd seen before, but awful shuddering, wretched sobs that made her convulse in his hold. Sucking in a shocked breathe, it took him only another moment to think, and he swept her up into a bridal carry before marching out into the woods as quickly as he could in the darkness with her held to his chest.

"Nathan's been dreaming, but he never said what about." - Clarke

Bellamy swallowed hard. "It's just a few seconds. Most... most probably don't even know where they are, or why."

Only once they were far from earshot did he stop, and find a dry spot to set her down before sitting beside her. Still she clung to him when he offered his arms again, and his shirt was soon damp from her grief.

How much time passed in the darkness, they did not know, only that Bellamy felt as it was an eternity for her to expend the misery of the reminder. He held her close, and every sound from her heartbreak was a cut against his soul. Death by a Thousand Cuts, all from her heart to his very soul. The girl who tried to hold everything together with just her own two hands, he should have done more to help, to take more of the burden from her slight shoulders. Finally, the shudders slowed, and another painful eternity of the sniffles and whimpers as she tried to find her well of control again passed... until finally he thought she'd fallen to slept upon him, and decided they'd stay there for the night. After everything else they'd faced, in this life and the last, the dark forest alone did not feel like something to fear.

"They all died. All of our people. I failed them all. It was all for nothing. I did horrible things to save us, and I still... I couldn't even save you." confessed Clarke, her voice roughened and thick from the sobs, breaking through the illusion of her sleep.

Bellamy sighed, squeezing her tightly, before he loosened enough to pull back so he could see her face. Even in the dark, he could make out her swollen eyes and the pallor of her grief.

"You didn't fail, Princess. Everything went to hell, and there wasn't anything to be done about it. Nobody knew. You couldn't."

"This was supposed to be the second chance. Why? Why are they remembering now?"

"They don't know it's real, Princess."

"Not yet. But they'll figure it out. Too many of them died together- they'll figure it out when they talk it over."

"Nah, Princess, it's a pretty big leap from "weird shared dreams" to "past lives." It's only their deaths they're dreaming of, nothing else." assured Bellamy more confidently.

"So far." muttered the golden haired warrior princess sullenly.

She went silent long enough again, that he began to wonder, to hope, that this was the end of it for the night... he was not so lucky.

"Are you... are you dreaming of your death too?" asked Clarke, her words so low it was hardly a sound at all.

"Why'd she have to ask? Why can't I just lie to her?" wondered Bellamy in frustration, but he finally caved, as he always felt like he did with her...

"Yea. Yea, Princess. I am. The last (?) few nights."

"How'd it happen?"

It wasn't a surprise that she didn't know. He knew that now, that they'd been so far apart, her all alone, him far above her in space. Octavia had always said, when pushed to discuss this, that she knew every single human must have died, but Clarke had always hoped that the Go-Sci seven would have survived.

"We made it to space. You did it, Princess. You got it working, because we were inside." explained the guard quietly, seriously, as if speaking of his own death didn't horrify him.

"You died back on the Ark." whispered Clarke.

"We just didn't have oxygen for the trip."

"Maybe if I'd gotten the satellite aligned sooner-"

"Not your fault. We tried to take up too many people with little oxygen. That's it. If we'd had a couple extra tanks to share..."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bell. I'm sorry."

Her pleading apologies tore at him, and he gripped her ever tighter, pressing kisses to her hair, swearing her that there was nothing to forgive her for.

"Everyone's going to know I failed them. Everything's going to fall apart." whispered Clarke.

"Skaikru is too tightly bonded for that, ok? We're not going to let things fall apart. We've buried our dead together, we've worked for a hundred days side-by-side, we've bled, we've cried, been scared,and been furious. Watched you go to battle to save our people." insisted Bellamy.

As he held her, with his hands gripping too tightly, and his arms like steel bands, she thought about what they must be thinking... what they must think of her... all the mistakes she'd made.

Blatant lies, and unanswered questions.

Following Theolonious' example. His belief is making the best decision possible, and hoping for a for a forgiving god still seemed sound... yet she'd crossed terrible lines with it in mind.

Lying to Arkadia- that false hope that turned the end of the world even more bitter when it was revealed.

Taking the bunker... she would have given Roan a place inside it, with as many of his people as she could save, but would he have taken it, after her deceptions?

Repeating her mother's mistakes, really.

How had she gotten here to this?

What had twisted her from her father's daughter, to her mother's successor?

Her mother covered up, hid, whispered, and schemed, and lied... trying desperately to change as little as possible, always. Mount Weather had been terrifying from the very beginning because of that. Sterile, bright, perfect rooms, behind locked doors, and silence... unnatural, smothering silence. The sound of the Alpha med-bay during quarantines. During medicine shortages.

During medical rationing.

Death, suffering, treatable, preventable, blatant lies, and unanswered questions.

This wasn't how she wanted to lead.

She didn't even really want to lead, but she couldn't stop trying.

They deserved the truth, didn't they?

The price of existence was constant work- carrying water, boiling it clean, washing their clothes, their few linens, their furs, trying desperately to avoid descending into absolute filth, hunting, processing the kills, preserving all they could, cooking, tending the fires, watching the walls... no one was idle in Hundred Camp for long. Even Mary was still hard at work- often washing, since cooking made her so nauseous. They weren't kids. Not even the youngest of them, not anymore.

She couldn't repeat her mother's mistakes anymore. A genius, but... selfish. She didn't just want to keep herself and her friends safe... no, she strove to keep them in power. Abby Griffin hadn't just tried to keep her daughter safe, but under control.

Her father... there was the legacy she wanted to protect.

Neither perfect, but one could see that a better world for everyone included their daughter.

One couldn't.

Clarke broke, tumbling forwards again into Bellamy's arms. Shuddering, she suppressed the urge to sob in order to force out words.

"We'll tell them in the morning."

92 Days Till the End

Dawn came too early. Monroe had grumpily curled into a ball beside Clarke the night before, and Bellamy had retreated to sleep directly below the door's lever. Hearing the watchers' holler out the morning wake-up call, Clarke rolled over onto her back to stretch out. Still beside her, Monroe ducked entirely beneath the ugly, warm blanket she'd claimed. Even with her face buried in the moss stuffed pillow, Clarke could still hear the mumbles issuing from her, and chuckled lowly. No one could curse quite like the red head.

When she opened her eyes, she found Bellamy already on his feet, stretching languidly. Doubt pinched at her mouth, and tightened her frame as sleepiness fell away. He offered her a lopsided smile in greeting, and threw the lever to lower the door. Across the level, Atom and Collette groaned at the noise, having slept through the watcher's yell apparently. Untangling herself from her boyfriend, Collette sat up, and glared at Bellamy blearily. Which he returned darkly, until Clarke cleared her throat pointedly.

"Gather everyone up." ordered Clarke, her voice flat, and her face wiped clear of all her doubt.

With a hard nod, he crossed the floor to climb half-up the ladder and bang on the hatch, before returning to the open doorway. Down he marched, looking around to see who was already up.

"C'mon, everyone, get to the fire, now!"

At Bellamy's roar, sleepy faces peeking out of the cabin's ill-set, creaking door. The boy up on the watcher's ledge by the gate turned to stare over at them, and the flaps of the water tent rustled as one of the crew leader's ducked out hesitantly, water jugs already slung over his shoulders.

"EVERYONE!" confirmed Bellamy in a booming yell.

Grumbling, all the kids already up and moving came scurrying, except for a few haphazardly trying to rouse the rest. With a pained groan, Bellamy roughly rubbed his face with both hands. He was doing his best to shape up the delinquents into a solid force, but they usually still acted like the kids they actually were. It took more than a half-hour to round the lot up, but the last fifteen minutes had been spent tracking down a missing couple of delinquents. Sterling and Bree had apparently passed out behind the dropship late last night. With everyone accounted for, Clarke and Bellamy pressed closer to each other, and urged the kids to huddle together.

Gulping, Clarke eyed the faces in front of her. For the last moment, they were still somewhat...naive. This life, this time on Earth, hadn't been so bad. They still had their home, there had been no skirmishes with Trikru, they hadn't had to suffer under the Ark's Exodus charter... Life was hard, but they were willing to work. The delinquents found a way to be happy enough with it, until the gloominess that had fallen on them. Now, Clarke wondered, how much of it had been about not allowing everyone to walk to Polis, and how much had been the dreams disturbing the peace of their lives. They hadn't yet pieced enough together from their morbid dreams, but she had to be honest with them before they did.

Her voice shook, but she spoke anyway.

"I am Jake Griffin's daughter, and I am honoring his legacy. Trusting in the example he set. He was floated for it, but he was right,"

"For those who don't know, Jake Griffin was the engingeer who discovered the life support failure- MORE THAN A YEAR BEFORE THE ARK CAME DOWN." added Bellamy gruffly.

"He wanted to tell everyone so that the Ark could figure out what to do together. The council disagreed. My mother disagreed. He was floated, and because I knew... because I agreed with him, I was put into solitary."

She'd never really explained that to the delinquents as a whole, not in the life, and not really even in the other. This time, she'd honor her father better.

As the sun rose, brightening camp, the faces of her people were losing their sleepy looks, and growing defensive in their wariness.

"I'm sorry." she began, hesitating again, "I wish I didn't have to tell you this. I wish it wasn't happening. But it is, and you need to know. There's time to prepare, so please don't panic. We can get through this. Together."

Pausing hard, she swallowed hard, and Bellamy grabbed her hand, squeezing it firmly. How lucky Octavia was to have a brother, though Clarke, even as pang, half-guilt, half-grief, struck her deeply- Murphy should be here, if not for her mistakes, he'd be here. Watching her back. Surviving. Whatever it took.

With a deep breathe, Clarke locked eyes with Monroe, who stood next to Fox at the very front of the crowd, just barely out of arm's reach in front of the pair of leaders. Just as the shorter girl was staunchly ignoring Bellamy, keeping her eyes fixed on the blonde girl. The smile Clarke attempted fell flat.

"After 97 years, we thought Earth itself was safe, but it is still facing the consequences of the nuclear disaster. The nuclear reactors all over the globe were all equipped with safety mechanisms which delayed meltdowns. But now we are going to have to deal with the fallout, and we can't stop it." blurted out the young leader.

As she grit her teeth, watching them take in that shock, Bellamy squeezed her hand tightly, and took over the explanation.

"A wave of radiation is coming..."

The very last shreds of nativity left in the hundred shattered... being torn from their faces, and hearts, leaving gaping wounds behind. So young to be so weary. One of the youngest boys, Kade, who loved the horses so much, choked on a sob he couldn't repress, but another boy just tossed an arm over his shoulder in solidarity. Mary began to cry, and Collette wrapped her up in a tight hug... Bree yelped, and tossed herself at Sterling, even as he caught her, he was staring, wide-eyed, at Bellamy. A few of the kids pushed out of the huddle, sinking to their knees, while others dropped down into the dirt, sitting with their faces buried in their hands. The bulk of the number, though... stood. Knees locked, fists clenched, biting their lips, or lips pressed tightly together, shoulders hunching defensively, with their eyes wide, but fixed on their leaders.

Awaiting orders.

Ready to hear what could be, what must be, what would be, done.

A smile crept up Clarke's face finally, though she squashed it as soon as it she realized. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bellamy's face lightening with the same pride that was welling up within her. They could do this. Their people, young and scared, were strong, and stubborn enough to survive.

"We have ninety days to get ready. We're going to hunt, gather and preserve as much as we can so we can bring a good supply in with us. That's what I'm going to need everyone to be working on."

"Space is limited, but everyone standing here has a spot guaranteed. No other clan is small enough to get to say the same thing. So they haven't broken the news yet. Please let their leaders have more time to plan before anyone else finds out. Trikru and Arkadia will get a hundred spots, as will the others." explained Clarke.

The smile came creeping back on her face as she could see them beginning to straighten up and stand taller again. Mary sniffled, then gently pulled out of Collette's embrace. A couple of kids behind him snorted and chuckled at something Atom muttered too quietly for Clarke to hear. Monroe huffed impatiently. Even flighty Bree was calming down enough for Sterling to let his arms drop, and little Kade had bit his lip, holding in all but that first sob.

"So what about-"

With Sterling's question, the grim silence absolutely failed, and questions poured out of the crowd, unstoppable. None pleasant. Each harder than Bellamy had imagined. The camp that had been so sullen as of late, was coming alive with a horrified urge to survive.

There, Bellamy spoke up. "We do not have privileged and unprivileged classes here. We're in this together. Our people. Skaikru. We have to depend on each other. Trust each other. Help. Protect. Whether you were forced on the dropship, or like, Wells, Raven, and I, came down by choice. Or like Wick who CHOSE US... We're family now. Clan. All of us, we're bound by that. Our blood, our dead, our home. Our past, and our future. Together."

Chants broke out, "Skaikru!" but Clarke held up her branded arm to stop it soon enough.

"These days... less than a hundred. These days are going to shape our entire future," reminded the young leader when they finally quieted to listen again.

"We will get through this. Like Bellamy said, together. Please believe that." she implored.

"I lay my head onto the vents. They're still. My chest burns. Everything does. Darkness takes me." revealed Bellamy, pulling all eyes from her onto him.

The silence of the crowd goes stiffer, more frightened.

Catching onto Bellamy's idea, Clarke spoke up again. "I fall to a cold floor. Blisters are covering me, and there's never been anything that's ever hurt so bad. I'm puking blood. I miss my mom. And then it's over."

Shrugging blithely, Monroe adds on as the rest as they still gaping.

"I'm outside, it's daytime, and there's screaming all around. I don't know what's going on. Air's poisoned. Acid fog, maybe. I don't know. Choked to death, it felt like."

Another kid speaks up, and another. The fear, the pain, the confusion, pour out from the crowd. When tears begin to pour down Clarke's face, she's far from the only one. Their sins and tragedies are catching up to them even here. Not one of the Hundred have escaped the scars from a life they'd forgotten.

After Breakfast

"Clarke?"

The timid voice made her look up instantly from the notebook she'd carefully been adding to.

Walking into the dropship, the tall, thin Bree, and fluffy, brown haired Sterling, with a wide space between them looked decidedly shifty. Barely smothering a groan, Clarke closed the notebook and let it rest on the makeshift exam table. It was never good when one of the delinquents looked this awkward.

"What's wrong?" asked the young leader, keeping her voice flat, and watching uneasily as they squirmed.

"Ummm..." stuttered Sterling unhelpfully.

Bree rolled her eyes at him, forgetting her own anxiety for a moment, and sighed. Only once she'd dropped her gaze back down to the metal floor, was she able to speak.

With just a nod, Clarke turned away. Rummaging through the supplies she'd brought from the mountain, she pulled out a plastic bag calmly. Grabbed one narrow foil pack from it. Looking back at the two of them, she held it up.

Not even a half-hour later, she sent the pair on their way out of the dropship. Leaving Bree to Monroe and Fox's hands, who'd been waiting outside the dropship, Sterling grabbed the nearest kid sitting around and started off for Ton DC.

"Bree's pregnant," announced Clarke grimly.

Cringing, Bellamy looked up at the blonde who'd just stormed up the ladder.

They shared a look- remembering the most awkward days on Earth- when they'd all been contemplating the possible pregnancy of Roma Bragg, following the Sex Ed talks Clarke had forced him to do with the boys, and she'd done with the girls. It wasn't possible to keep from remembering Roma's death not long afterwards.

"Pregancies will take up spots. We've got to make that clear. To everyone," continued Clarke.

Second Dawn

The engineer hummed as he worked. Raven was fairly sure that was Sinclair's fault, since ever damn engineer she'd ever met that he'd trained, had done so. Now, though, there was just Wick and Monty, and somehow Wick's was more annoying. Louder, maybe, and more off-key.

"This means I don't have to keep trying to hunt, right?" asked Wick, suddenly, feeling the weight of her annoyed stare.

"Not like you were of any use from what I saw." replied Raven, her nose in the air, as she remembered him trailing dejectedly behind the fifteen and sixteen year old kids that filled out the hunting crews back at camp.

Chuckling, he replied, still out of sight under a desk, banging around far more noisily than she was sure was needed.

"I'll happily admit it so long as Bellamy doesn't drag me out again trying to get me to shape up. Getting left behind was a dream come true."

"Well, these rickety old catacombs sure aren't up to Mt. Weather standards," groused Raven as she glared at a handful of dusty, disconnected wires.

"Private versus government," pointed out Wick, singsong, from under one of the long desks.

"Uhuh, that does not excuse this pathetic tech," said Raven as she continued trying to rerig the entire section in a more orderly fashion.

Banging his head, Wick ducked out from under the desk in order to stick his tongue out at her.

When she ignored that, he tossed a dusting rag at her head.

Snorting, Raven knocked it away from her nose just before it made impact.

"You saying you won't stay here with me in the rust bucket?" teased the engineer, stll squatting beside the desk but watching her hopefully.

With a scoff, Raven turned back to her own task.

"C'mon, Wrench Monkey, we could be happy here, holding this place together with just our hands and all the electrical tape we can find."

She snorted again, but refused to look up.

"Idiot. My name's been top of the list for Mt. Weather since Clarke showed us this dump."

"Awww, but blondie won't keep you from joining me if you wanna switch."

"Which I don't." countered Raven.

She sat back, admiring the newly untangled, and reconnected wires, with a smirk.

Wick waved his arms enthusiastically. "What about me? Besides, this is the big sanctuary- and it's the real challenge. We oughta be here!"

"Pffft. You wanna be with me, you'll know where to find me. Otherwise, see ya in a five years. Sinclair and I'll be just fine." laughed off Raven.

Jumping to her feet, she began to stalk about the room, searching for her next task. Wick, still squatting beside the desk, gaped at her. Which she steadily ignored. He finally shut his mouth, and slowly, a grin grew on his bristly, sunburned face.

"Well, I do love you. So sign me up for the cozy little hole." he announced.

She froze, with her back to him, interrupted in the process of mentally nitpicking the skimpy command center.

"You picked me." she murmured under her breathe, and refused to repeat herself when he obnoxiously asked what she'd said.

"Good job realizing that I'm right. As usual." taunted Raven instead, throwing a smirk over her shoulder.

He laughed, loud and happy, making her soften a bit, the sharp edges melting.

"Wick, you know,"

Stalling, Raven bit her lip, sharply, drawing a taste of blood. Her hands shook, so she balled them into fists. He waited, silently, holding his breathe. The silent bunker was an escape from time itself it was so still in that moment.

"I do love you." she blurted out.

There. She'd said it.

First time ever, she'd said it to any guy besides Finn.

Cringing at her own awkwardness, she narrowed her eyes. Then leaned closer to the white board in front of her, as if reading the messy scrawled to-do list they'd made only hours before. Behind her, Wick sat down heavy on the ground, and grinned up at her back- the tight, sleek ponytail she rarely freed her hair from- the red bomber jacket she was apparently gonna wear till it fell off her- the shapely legs hidden under heavy-duty, Ark issue cargo pants.

"You ever gonna call me Kyle?"

His voice was hoarse, and his eyes gleamed, when she risked an anxious glance back at him. Ducking her lashes, she turned back to the white board, staring at it without any attention on anything it held...

"Nope."