AN: Thanks for the reviews!

Jo Hamel, you never know with Roan. :D

Chapter 14 Run Like a Rebel

Previously

"We waited, but you didn't come back," accused Reese again.

Clarke nodded, feeling the weight of not just Reese, and everyone else in the room, but of everyone who'd ever had to think that about her.

"Things happened," she began.

"Just like I said they would," mocked Reese, sharp and quick, and Clarke surprised even herself by huffing out a laugh. A smirk, just a tiny twist of her lips, appeared on Reese's lightly tanned face, and Clarke eased.

"You were definitely right," admitted Clarke, making Miller, and even Gina, snort.

66 days till the end, continued

"Where's Jasper?" asked Clarke

Nobody answered her. Shifting, she looked around the room, reading the reactions, the glances away of Sinclair, Miller and Gina, the kids' shiftiness, Jackson's downcast eyes...

"Did he stay in Arkadia?" she asked slowly.

Jackson bit into his cheek, before shaking his head softly. Gina moved over to the kids, sitting down on the small sofa they were leaning against. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw her bump Lyra gently, drawing the kid's attention to her. Swallowing, Clarke refocused onto Jackson. Jackson, who looked so... guilty?

"Then where is he? What's wrong?"

"I think he may need some time to himself," Jackson said.

But he wasn't looking at her. Or anyone else. The colorless carpet beneath their feet held his gaze.

"Is he okay?," Clarke asked.

She looked to Miller, who shrugged, slightly, but his expression was relaxed enough, not that she was no longer snarling, to ease her own nerves.

"Could use the surveillance cameras to find him. They're functional," Wick suggested, bouncing restlessly in place, just enough to annoy Raven.

Clarke looked between Jackson, and Miller

"Is he okay?" she repeated.

Jackson looked dismayed, she realized, but when Miller meet her eye, she waited.

At his nod, she turned to Wick slightly. "For now, we'll give him space, but you could keep an eye out when you hit the command center,"

On Clarke's heels, Raven followed. With a frown, Raven sped up, shoving past Blake to fall into step with Clarke. Whatever had happened since they'd parted had worn off some of that twinkly princess vibe The blonde's sickly pallor and hollowed cheeks didn't fit with her quick, determined stride.

"This is one of the primary residence levels," they heard Miller explaining behind them.

"Stats?" Sinclair asked.

"Five bunkrooms, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. Each meant to house fifty long-term. After the population fell, they only housed a handful of young adults at a time," answered Wick eagerly, remembering this level from previous visits into the mountain.

"There's also ten two bedroom suite on the other side of this floor. Units FI-X. Families get first priority, but for now none are occupied." Miller added.

"Trikru is in Alpha and Beta bunkrooms," Clarke called over her shoulder, pointing out the two left side doors, a huge ways apart. "Skaikru is in Gamma- at the end of this hall."

"And we've put Floukru in Delta and Epsilon for now," Bellamy titled his head towards the right side doors, directly apposite the Trikru's doors.

"There will be some shuffling around, of course, but for now, everyone's happy enough to be crowded in," explained Clarke.

"I hear you've got a sweet presidential suite," Wick crowed. He walking on Sinclair's other side, and grinning at the back of Clarke's head, waiting for a reaction.

Clarke flushed darkly, but didn't pause as she took the last few steps to reach the last door of the wing.

"It's not that much bigger than FI-X suites, and Charlotte and Miller are both sharing with me," Clarke said.

She swiped her keycard, and swung the door open after the low beep. The first to scurry inside was Raven, and she let out a whistle.

"Man, somebody's been busy re-outfitting these digs," she pointed out.

The last trip into the mountain, had found all these bunkrooms with twenty out of the twenty-five bunks pushed together, lining the back wall, taking up as little room as possible, and little else inside. The paraphernalia inventoried and carried off to the storage rooms had indicated only four men, or older boys, had lived here.

Now all the bunks were evenly spaced with walking room between them. The faded, holey blue hangings were pulled back on about half of the beds, exposing bare mattresses. Sinclair edged around the others to look around. Bookshelves, cabinets, tablet stations, and narrow desks lined the wall to either side of the entry door. All were notably empty. A plain door without locks stood on both the left and right walls, dead center of the room.

"Communal bathroom," indicated Bellamy to the left, "Communal storage," with a jerk of his head to right.

Off to one side, by the communal storage door, was the expanded sitting area. Instead of the lonely table, and two couches, the room offered four tables, with extra chairs in front of the sleeping area, and a half-dozen sofas, and a handful of armchairs, with coffee tables tucked close to them in the sitting. A projector screen took up a huge chunk of the wall by the sitting area.

"Where is everybody?" asked Wick curiously, following Raven inside.

"Either working, or exploring, or still in med bay," offered Clarke.

Sinclair wandered around the room, eyeing everything curiously. The bunkbeds themselves were the most interesting part. At each end, a double door metal wardrobe was built right into the bed frame. Beneath the lower bunk were built-in drawers- two to each side, and like the wardrobes, equipped with combination locks. Each bunk was enclosed by the curtains, separately, with the top covered by a tent-like frame. The beds were still dusty, but there was a hint of chemical cleaner in the air, so the room cleaning had at least not been totally neglected.

"Near medical, there is a sixth bunkroom, but it's a lot smaller. No built-ins. Planning to keep it empty to use in case of illness," commented Clarke.

"C'mon, Reyes, share with me," goaded Wick, heading down the rows towards the bathroom, looking for a free bed farther from the hallway door.

"Fine, but I call top!" squealed Raven, darting past him.

With a triumphant yell, she threw herself up onto a top bunk, directly beside the side of the room's wall. Laughing at his complaints, she taunted him merrily.

"Loser!" Raven declared, sing-song.

"Betrayed by my beloved," sighed Wick, falling backwards onto the bunk beneath her, hand over his heart, and heartbroken moue upon his face.

Raven stuck her head over the edge and snickered.

"Gods, you're such a dork," she accused.

As Wick continued to grumble dramatically, Raven disappeared.

"Hey, check out the interior wardrobe access!" she called from where she was hidden in the hangings of her own bunk.

Sinclair rolled his eyes, marked where they were going to be sleeping, and strode off in the opposite direction.

Clarke laughed out loud, making Wick roll out of his newly claimed bunk and hit the ground with a heavy thump, as Sinclair threw his Ark-issue jacket down on the bunk farthest from his proteges.

"Linens are in the store room," offered Miller, blank faced.

Bellamy smirked, but looked back to the where Gina was exploring the bookshelves, Jackson the beds, and the kids were wandering off, Orion and Reese hand-in-hand, Lyra creeping into the bathroom.

"The kids should stay in the chief medical officer's quarters, but it's up to you who stays with them," he advised Jackson and Gina.

The pair looked between them.

"We'll sort living arrangements out better later, just pick something for now," Bellamy added.

"I'll take a bunk, you stay with the kids," offered Jackson calmly to Gina, who shrugged.

"Ok, dinner. Now. Everybody," Bellamy directed.

Clarke and Miller exchanged a glance, remembering all else that remained undone.

"We've got to check on Floukru. Luna's not exactly happy, and if they're not at dinner, I've got to make sure they're fed," Clarke explained.

Miller let the door swing closed before pressing his boot back into it. The soft thud, and series of clicks let him know the locks had engaged as he watched the girls say their goodnight.

The sleepy kid was clinging a bit, so he joined them, and pried her off Clarke. She bent a bit to press a soft kiss to Charlotte's blonde locks before nudging her towards bed. Miller ruffled her hair, and murmured goodnight as well. Charlotte tried choking back a yawn even as she wandered off to her room.

When Miller looked back to Clarke, she was watching him, looking just as tired.

"Bed?" she asked.

He shrugged, "let me get some water first,".

As he headed for the tiny kitchenette, he heard the bedroom door open. Gulping down a fragile glass of water, he closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. Though there was only a tiny refrigerator sitting on the counter beside the microwave, and a two shelf pantry, there was at least a sink with free flowing water. As much as you could drink. As he refilled his glance, he chuckled, realizing this water his favorite thing about the mountain. Never mind the projection screens and odd, brightly colored videos from before the Catalyst, the computer full of recipes for sweets and delicacies, and the instructions for growing what was needed to make such frivolous indulgences, the sealed rooms... there was water. No rationing, no lugging it yourself, no calling for a servant, no washing off from a communal trough in the training yards. Slower, he finished off a second glass full.

The walls within the mountain were thick enough, and the doors so well sealed that he couldn't even tell if, on the other side of the small communal space, Charlotte was still moving around in her bedroom. Opposite Charlotte's side, Clarke had clearly left open their door as he could hear her getting ready for bed. There was even a third room, separated from Charlotte's by a efficient bathroom. The presidential suite really wasn't that much bigger than the other family size suites, and time had worn away the glamour. But enough remained to hint that it had begun it's life as a plush oasis.

Once the first night had passed of everyone merely sleeping where they fell, Trikru, and Ulrin kom Delfikru had insisted upon the grandest suite being Clarke's own quarters. Miller suspected that the Delfikru chief had hopes of sharing it with her in time, but the man had not dared imply it, so for now, Miller would let the issue lie. When Clarke offered him a spot within it, he hadn't been surprised. Whether it was her wanting companionship, or if she was using him as a shield against unwanted advances, he didn't know. Or care. Whatever was needed, he'd be there.

Nathan, had, though, expected to be in one of the smaller bedrooms. Perhaps, eventually, he would claim the last one for himself.

It was just that, when they'd shuffled in, exhausted, that second night in the mountain, she'd left the master bedroom door open, and he'd automatically followed. By morning, Charlotte had appeared on Clarke's other side, but the bed was freaking huge. Bigger than even the best he'd seen in Polis. They could've let Octavia and Wells both join them, and still had room at the bottom of the bed for Bellamy to sulk sideways. Kid hadn't even woken him up when she crept in. Her, and Clarke, and him too, frankly, slept better together.

The next night, he'd half expected Clarke to suggest he take his own room, but she didn't. Hadn't in the days since. It worked.

Refilling the glass a third time, this he carried with him.

Quietly shut their bedroom door behind him, and laughed at what he found.

Sitting cross legged on her side of the enormous bed, Clarke was meticulously drawing a stiff brush through her hair. Dropping the brush to her lap as if scolded, she glared up at him. Lower lip pushed out in a pout.

Last night, he'd caught her counting strokes, and had taunted her till he teared up from laughing at her new obsession.

"There were bugs! And slime! And it was green!" she reminded him tartly, delicately scooping up the brush and depositing on her side table.

He snorted. "Last week."

Despite her flushed glare, she accepted the glass wordlessly, and gulped the first half down greedily.

Grinning at the sigh of appreciation, Nathan headed for the bathroom. It happened to be his second favorite part of the mountain. If he never saw another poorly arranged latrine created by idiot kids from space, he might be alright. He left the door open as he washed up.

"Wanna bet on whether she shows up before or after midnight?" he called out.

He heard her groan from the bedroom. "Don't tease her! She's trying!".

"She doesn't have to. She could just come to bed," he pointed out.

Clarke finished her water, and hastily gathered her freshly brushed hair into a single braid to sleep.

"I think she just wants some independence,"

Miller grunted at that, non committal, and finished up getting ready for bed.

When he left the bathroom, Clarke was already up the blankets, only the collar of her faded, forest green flannel nightshirt still visible. He crawled into his side. The foam mattress was soft, and thick, welcome relief to lay upon.

"Independence really isn't a Skaikru thing. We're more of a co-dependent pack," he teased.

Even as he said it, he settling onto his left side. Clarke scooted into place.

"Some of the kids have pushed the bunkbeds together to sleep beside each other," Clarke admitted.

"Trikru still calls us puppies after seeing us sleep all piled up on each other," he reminded.

Their backs pressed perfectly together, both finally relaxed.

"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," she muttered.

"Huh?"

"Just something from a book I read on the Ark,"

He grunted. "Sounds right. Besides, this isn't home. No matter how comfy we might get, nobody's gonna forget that. Our people need to stay close, even if makes us puppies,"

"Wolves," murmured Clarke drowsily, her voice muffled a bit against the pillow, "We're more like wolves,".

Hundred Camp was lost. Their home, taken from them. Where they'd grown together. Where they buried their dead. When they'd reached Mt. Weather, Clarke had set out again, returning to their home. Just to see what remained. The dropship remained, but all their work around it had crumbled to ash. The scorched forest would support no one. At least they'd had some of their stores safely within the dropship. Those had now been carried into the mountain, and here they would stay. More than two months early, but still. It wasn't home, but they had to find a way for it to be. They couldn't spend five years suffering here from guilt, and shame. Her people were here. She had to make it their home. Too few of them, but all that could be found. Wherever they are, is home for her too. For Skaikru, Clarke will live among her ghosts and sins. Anything for her people. She couldn't leave them again, not over Mt. Weather, not over anything. They'd need to start deciding which Arkadians to offer spots under Skaikru's banner to.

It was, as Miller had wanted to bet, before midnight when Charlotte crawled into bed, sandwiching Clarke in the middle. Her light footsteps on the old carpet, and even the opening of the door were quiet enough that she didn't disturb either of them. Soon she was back asleep. Though they all dreamed, they did not wake, and by morning, all was forgotten.

~~~ 65 days till the end ~~~

The medical ward was the dullest place Monroe had ever been stuck.

Considering ten years of classes on the Ark, followed by Skybox, she considered that to be an insult. Clarke's diagnosis of double pneumonia wasn't keeping Monroe in this awkward bed. That was more about the coughing that bent her in half every time she walked away from it. The Arkadian doctor had promised to figure out something from the medicine stock that would help, but until then, he'd just backed Clarke up. Monroe was stay in this wobbly, creaky bed, dying of boredom. The new doctor had sent half the ward out to find a bed with their people this morning, and the half that remained weren't in any shape to be of any interest she'd learned already.

Laid back with her head resting on the pillow, and her eyes closed to avoid the same sight as the last week above her, she was ignoring the sounds around her. The doors swung open, but the doctor had been in and out constantly, so Monroe didn't pay it any attention.

"Hey," Bellamy's voice, pitched low, carried to her unexpectedly.

Monroe looked up, in time to watch him cross the ward.

"Clarke around?"

Monroe shook her head.

"Arkadia's been radioing," Bellamy announced

"They finally noticed they're missing three kids?" asked Monroe.

"Apparently they were busy yesterday," he replied shortly.

"With what?" she demanded, hands on hips.

He threw his hands up, "they wouldn't say,"

"Get Miller to radio his dad," she suggested.

The art storage halls were more crowded than Clarke remembered. Everyone healthy enough to had been working non-stop since entering the mountain, grounder and skaikru alike. One of the first tasks had been to complete the stripping down that Raven and Wick had instigated on their trips after the fall. With it done, all the artwork that Dante Wallace had spread out within the mountain was now deposited right back where he'd found it. There was hardly space to walk, much less sit and admire any of the pieces.

"There you are," Clarke said, but oh, no, she thought.

Huddled between two stacks of wrapped paintings was Jasper.

Without his googles, but in his arms was a fabric wrapped bundle, clutched tight to his chest. His eyes seemed huge in his thin, miserable face.

"I got there too late,"

His confession was quiet, and his voice frail.

"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered, lowering herself down. At his knees was as close as she could get with his tight refuge among the forgotten artwork.

"He was waiting on me, but I was too late," he continued.

"It wasn't your fault, Jasper,"

He sniffled, and scooted a bit out of his hiding spot towards her. Clarke wrapped her arms, and he let his head drop heavily onto her shoulder. Tired, nearly silent sobs shook his whole frame. Hot tears hit her bare collarbone.

"I'm so sorry. I should've got you there sooner,"

He cried in her arms, and she didn't notice when tears began to slid down her cheeks. "Oh Jasper, it wasn't your fault,"

Jasper, in pain, again, hugging her like he never would have done after Mt. Weather before. Like he never would again if he ever knew enough. Remembered enough. He cried for the last chance at something of family, and she cried for everything that had ever hurt him in either life.

Nothing can last forever, not even tears. When they slowed, Jasper choked down a last sob, and straightened up uneasily.

He lowered the bundle that had been pressed between them to his lap. His long, shaking fingers unwrapped it carefully.

Worn, soft cotton with a pattern and colors long since faded into obscurity first. Then a sheet of yellowed plastic cross tied with two thin cords, and there lay a homemade book. Tatty, and bound with scrap material.

"It's, uh, two hundred, and forty-seven years old. About that," said Jasper.

"So fifty years after the Catalyst," Clarke said, wiping her face, yet curious.

"Yea, uh... when the One-Child Act became law," he explained, hoarse and sniffling.

Jasper gently lifted the threadbare cover, and written inside, onto cardboard, so large they stretched from side to side, in thick, faded grey letters-

The Book of Records

Beneath it, words had been added, smaller, in scripts by different hands.

Blood is thicker, wrote one, and another, the truth we find is greater than the lie we believed. Clarke swallowed, and traced the uneven edges of the pages. Some were uniformly printed white, others the thin, greyish recycled sheets used by the lower forms in school.

"Oh, stars,"

Jasper looked up from the tome to meet her eyes.

"I never knew how many second children there. Nobody did,"

"How?" Clarke asked, "why?"

Jasper shook his head. "Maybe he would've told me, if I'd made it soon enough," his voice broke.

"Do you... do you know who he was, to you?" she asked.

Jasper looked back down to the book, and flipped the pages slowly to near the back. Pointed.

First Born, Approved: Sypros Himura, Age 8

Second Born, Adopted Out: Lillian St. Claude, official birth date changed to... Adoptive parents Francis St. Claude and Rey St. Claude nee Kim moved to Argo following the official placement.

"His little sister... Lillian St. Claude was my dad's mom," Jasper announced dully.

"But how... how could they hide the adoptions?"

"If the 2nd child was discovered under two, they just found anyone willing to take them. Moved stations. Extra rations to buy their cooperation," he explained thickly.

"Anybody we know?" she asked, staring down at the pages. Bracing herself.

He shook his head. "It looks like the implants really did improve, or the government got better at keeping them secret,"

She sighed. "Without interrogating Jaha, we probably won't figure out which it was, but he's still difficult to get information out of,"

"Well, um, there is a reminder ever hundred pages or so that the records are incomplete. There's always the possibility that some were missed. One of the keepers even explains a theory that some second, or even third, children were never discovered..."

"That they managed to live their lives in secret?" Clarke breathed.

"Uhuh," confirmed Jasper, he hesitated, but then forged on.

He carefully flipped to the back cover. Clarke titled her head to get a better angle. Jasper open the velcro'd, narrow pouch, and manveruoed something out of it. More than one. Into her hand, he dropped one by one, a dozen or so USB drives.

"Some are just more in-depth personnel and genealgy records," he explained, turning them over till he could point out the numbers on them, "You know there were a lot of name changes in the first couple generations, and the records were lost. Well, the official ones were, but somebody saved them. So that's some of the USBs, but only the first seven are listed in the book, so I don't know about the rest. It looks like Sypros never had anybody to turn this over to... I think... I think he wanted to give it to me. That's what Jackson thinks, and I mean, he was basically the only one Spyros talked to it sounded like..."

Hands cupped together to hold them all, Clarke offered them back to him.

"Bring it to Raven, or Wick, they'll get you set up so you can go through it, or you can wait and bring it to Monty,"

He cleared his throat, wincing at the thought of sharing this with anyone else for now.

"I'll, uh, wait for Monty, you know, if it's okay,"

"This is your med bay, but I do want you to work closely with Nyko. You can trust him, okay?"

The medical wing was noisy in a way Clarke had never known it. Monroe, sitting up on her bed sulkily, and Mary, sleeping restlessly, were at the very back, and nearly every bed between them and the ward's doors were filled.

"We need to be working on a plan for Reese. With her vision so low, she's basically blind, right?"

At Jackson's nod, Clarke sighed.

"Well, Mount Weather isn't going to be much more accessible for her than Arkadia was," Clarke ventured.

"Safer, at least,"

"I know you're going to have your hands full, but I need you to deal with this. You understand her vision, and you understand living in a confined space. Get whoever you need to help. Find a way to help her live here without relying on her friend completely," directed Clarke.

He hesitated, but accepted it slowly.

"The first step to some limited independence for her would be learning to use a cane to maneuver," he suggested.

Clarke smiled. Her eyes lit up. "Make it happen."

The double doors swung open, slamming into the cushioned panels to either side to the muffle the impact. Charlotte came hurtling through, and crashed straight into Jackson.

"Ooof!" he grunted, narrowly avoiding falling backwards when Clarke jumped to steady them both.

"Where's the fire, kid?" he asked.

Flinching back, Charlotte gave him a dirty look. He meant no harm, but Clarke winced at the phrase.

She focused onto Clarke.

"The army's here!" she squeaked.

"Get Bellamy," instructed Clarke automatically, and before she'd closed her mouth, Charlotte turned on her heel and sprinted back off. With her hands extended before she, she threw the doors open again.

"Good thing the doors swing both ways," commented Jackson.

Jackson followed Clarke out of the main ward.

"The list has been updated to reflect those who have not been found since the fire. They are now considered Missing Presumed Dead," murmured Clarke.

Jackson nodded.

Outside was a greying wasteland. The wet, white salvation that fallen to lay thick sheets upon the land had been polluted with every footstep as they churned up charred, sooty remains of the forest. It was as if hell had burned one las time before freezing. Scorched bare trees stood blackened and stark against the sky. Clarke shuddered despite the thick, warm layers she'd buried herself in.

She wasn't surprised to find that Bellamy was already planted in the grey slush to oversee the arrival.

Winter in hell, she thought, wincing at the sight of Lexa's men setting up camp in this tragedy that had once been a great, green forest.

Yet Indra gave no sign she saw the wasteland, ordering the peacekeeping force about without a single cringe. Their orders were to protect the mountain with their lives.

All of them were going to die anyway.

Her stomach rolled, making her regret her lunch.

More men were still arriving, coming into sight as they came from south of the mountain, and Clarke's eyes widened as she saw that the last of them came leading animals. Cows, she knew, and horses, but she wasn't sure about some of the others. Sheep, and goats, she guessed. There were woven baskets, bound shut with leather straps, from which alarming shrieks admitted, and she hoped that they contained nothing more unusual than chickens.

The command center was dimly lit by the glow from the screens that filled it, and a couple small table lamps. The door was firmly closed. Locked.

"You were right," announced Sinclair grimly.

"The airlocks aren't 100%," Raven concluded immediately.

Sinclair nodded.

"Clarke told us there was an issue somewhere with radiation leaking," reminded Wick.

"Yea, but-" began Raven.

"She's right. The airlocks aren't 100% effective. I'm guessing it's wear and tear from age, at this point-"

"But the Ark's just as old, and our airlocks were functioning fine," argued Raven.

"Most of them," conceded Sinclair.

"Some were permanently sealed off," added Wick.

"Also, Mt. Weather wasn't stocked with engineers when the Catalyst hit, unlike the Ark. Both societies carefully passed down essential knowledge and training, but Mt. Weather started off on worse footing to begin with," explained Sinclair tiredly.

"So what does this mean? Can we not survive here during Praimfaya?" demanded Raven.

Sinclair shook his head roughly. "No, I mean, yes, we can. As long as the doors are sealed prior to reaching catastrophic radiation levels, and the doors and vents are kept sealed until radiation levels reach safe zones again," he explained.

"So no trips out? That's all?" asked Wick.

Sinclair nodded. "But considering the severity of the leaks, this is non-negotiable. Levels outside will be catastrophic for at least a year, and won't even lessen to severely dangerous until year three. You can't risk the sanctuary on the flip of a switch,"

"We've got to rig them permanently closed," realized Raven, her face falling.

"Semi-permanently," corrected her mentor.

"How serious?" Wick asked.

"Locks tied to radiation level monitors, 72hr waiting periods, shared-responsibility access codes, lock-down protocols, 24/7 guards and surveillance-" recommended Sinclair.

"Osterhagen Key-level of serious," murmured Raven.

"You two, this bunker is your baby. Those doors, and the vents, can not be left vulnerable at any cost,"

Wick's usual grin was nowhere to be seen, and Raven's mouth was pursed up tightly as they agreed.

"The main door should be rigged ASAP,-"

"Leaving just the tunnel entrance,"

"I'll brief Clarke," announced Sinclair.

Raven and Wick exchanged a look. "Miller, and Bellamy, too,"

63 days till the end

Before the assembled dining hall, which had for the time being been stripped of all ornamentation, Clarke stood.

"Adviser Nathan Miller kom Skaikru," she began formally, looking to where Miller sat, right at her side.

He coughed, rising to his feet, with a frown.

"I hereby remand command of Mount Weather Sanctuary, and the Clan of Skaikru, to you, until my return," her formal words came from the old change of command ceremonies, simply shortened.

With the bunker in question, there could be no doubt who she was leaving it's concern to. She held out her hand, offering the presidential keycard to him.

Obviously he hadn't ever watched those old videos. Maybe that was just one of Theolonious'... quirks. Had only she and Wells grown up watching the historic ceremonies? Miller stared at her, face blank and frozen, then looked down at her extended hand. He coughed again, and slowly accepted the key card. Only nodding, he kept his face blank even when she smiled at him. Seated only feet away, Orion was whispering to Reese, as he watched, and tried to explain to her what was happening.

"I trust you, Miller, to do what needs to be done," she offered.

"May we meet again,"

She threw her arms around him, smiling when he caught her, and wrapped her tightly.

"How am I supposed to sleep, huh?" he teased, squeezing her.

"At least you won't wake up with my hair in your mouth," she shot back at him, as she stepped away with a grin.

Snorting, he lifted one shoulder wryly.

"Hurry back anyway,"

Attention drifted from them, as Monroe stubbornly climbed to her feet, accepting a bag of antibiotics from Jackson, and hugging Miller too, Cade on her heels, accepting the warning from Miller to look after her. There was Charlotte, springing from her own chair to rush towards one of the Trikru girls. In a flash, she had her arms wrapped around Tris, the pair whispering urgently to each other, and Sinclair, Raven, and Wick were having a quiet last conversation, heads bent close. Jasper was fidgeting with his backpack, waiting impatiently, inching towards the dining hall's doors.

"Alright, come on, get out of here or miss your ride to Polis!" Bellamy barked at last, standing beside the doors, arms closed impatiently across his chest.

Murmuring continued, farewells and instructions, and warnings, but those departing began to meander towards the doors at last.

"Let's go!" Bellamy repeated, glaring at the stragglers, mostly Clarke.

Her last sweep of the hall was lingering, nodding and smiling wanly as she looked around. Passing by the tense figure of Bellamy, she swept out through the doors at last, reluctant, and looking over her shoulder.

All eyes fell upon him the moment Clarke's golden head had vanished from view.

Miller stood until the dining hall doors closed.

At first loud, the footsteps they could hear from the hallway died off too soon. Nathan Miller knew he could call Clarke back and she'd come running. He could've convinced her to let him go in her place. Maybe he would've... if not for the damned way plans kept changing. Every time they got caught up in one thing, another hit them upside the head from the back. Earth was doing it's best to kill them all, and Clarke was better at balancing whatever was thrown at them.

So he stood there. Everyone watching him. Let her go.

It was all on him until she made it back again. .

This was going to take some getting used to. Nearly fifty Trikru after all the ones that Gaia had sent away to "recover in the fresh air" of other villages, a solid hundred Floukru, and nearly all that was left of Skaikru plus the half-dozen Arkadian defectors. It wasn't quite two hundred altogether, but to Nathan Miller, feeling the mantle of responsibility settle uncomfortably across his shoulders, it felt like everything.