All rights go to their respective owners. No profit is made from this work of fanfiction. Rated MA.

Author's note at bottom.

1

BELLAMY

Bellamy hated waiting—hated standing around doing nothing for God knows how long when he could be doing anything else. But what he hated even more was waiting around for Alpha Station pricks. He glanced at his watch—the digital screen displayed thirty minutes past 1400 hours, which meant that Alpha kid was late. Again. And before his mind could conjure up all the ways he knew how to make someone hurt, Bellamy took a deep, long breath and exhaled. Beating up the clientele wouldn't sit well with Connor, he knew.

But did he really give a shit what Connor wanted?

Yeah, you do, asshole. You need to get paid.

And he got paid well enough to wait.

Bellamy leaned against the wall and stood around some more. He turned his head to stare into the small window across the room. Light beamed in and illuminated the dark room a gloomy blue, balls of gas twinkled just outside in an infinite blanket of black, and a panel of glass separated him from the vacuuming void of space. With one little crack in the window, he knew the whole ship could be turned inside out…and the ship had a lot of windows.

It didn't scare him, though. Not many things did. Bellamy lived in a constant state of danger—like now, as he waited in a station he wasn't allowed in, waiting for a person he had no business meeting, selling enough drugs to knock out an elephant—if those were still around. None of it fazed him.

Lately, however, something had started crawling out from the recesses of his mind. Something that made him hesitate a little more each time he took a risk. Thoughts of doubt and consequences plagued him at every decision, and he didn't know why. He just knew that it made him tired. Tired of selling poison to pampered assholes, tired of sneaking around and lying to everyone he knew. Tired of living a lie. He wanted to do something else. He didn't know what, but it sure as hell wasn't being a goddamn drug dealer for the rest of his life. And it wasn't working for the Ark Guard like his mother strived to get him into.

He just wanted something else—anything else.

Bellamy closed his eyes and sighed. What he wanted didn't matter. Because he didn't do it for himself. He did it for her. And he'd do anything for her.

The hiss of a door sliding open cut through the air. Bellamy turned his head and took a step back into the shadows. The door closed with another low hiss. Light footsteps grew closer as the person walked further into the room. Then they stopped. "Hello?"

Bellamy recognized the voice, and he rolled his eyes. He stepped out. "You're late."

A client from Alpha Station he called Haircut started and turned to him, his complexion paler than usual. "You scared the crap out of me!" He called him Haircut because his brown hair was cut in odd, jagged angles like he'd caught it in a turbine and ripped it out before it decapitated him.

He should've let the turbine cut off his head because he looked like a goddamn idiot.

"You got the cards?" Bellamy said, not hiding the irritation in his tone.

Haircut shot him an indignant look and then reached into the material of his scruffy jacket that Bellamy could only discern as wool. Valuable stuff. If Haircut had met Bellamy on his own turf, he'd already been shived for it by four different people. The idea of beating it out of him came across Bellamy's mind. A jacket like that could give him a month's worth of rations…but then again, he'd be out of a job, and Connor would no doubt send someone to kill him for threatening his connections to Alpha Station. Probably send that douchebag McCormick to do it—which was fine. He could take McCormick any day.

Haircut produced a stack of rations cards and held them out. Bellamy snatched them out of his hand. With an annoyed look, the kid stood around and waited as Bellamy counted them. "Is this gonna take all day?" he huffed.

"You in a hurry, Haircut?"

"My name is Frederick…and yes. I am. This place is disgusting."

"Yeah, that sucks. You wanna know what sucks even more?" Bellamy held up the ration cards. "You're short."

"No, I'm not."

Bellamy stared at him, wondering if he was purposely trying to piss him off. "Yeah. You are."

Haircut crossed his arms across his chest. "I pay for quality, and considering that Connor's product has been lacking in potency, I think that's a generous amount."

"Put in a complaint—I don't give a shit. You're paying full price."

His mouth dropped with exaggerated offense. "Excuse me? I will pay full price when it provides more than a thirty-minute high, and remember who you're talking to, Factory boy. With one ping, I could have you cleaning toilets for the rest of your life.

Bellamy's mood swan-dived. The kid shrieked like a girl when Bellamy lunged forward, grabbed him by the collar of his fancy-ass jacket, and thrust him against the wall. "Listen, shitbag!"

"Help!" Alpha boy shouted towards the door, but before he could make another sound, Bellamy knocked the wind out of him with an uppercut to the abdomen. Alpha boy curled into himself, his choked gasps filling the quiet room.

Not hearing any activity outside the door, Bellamy turned back to the kid and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in. "You all right, pal?" He watched as he tried to catch his breath. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, you're all right." He shoved him upright against the wall, so he had no choice but to look at him. "You know what they do in Factory Station if you don't keep your side of the bargain?" Bellamy asked. Haircut didn't answer. "I'll tell ya." He pulled a knife out from his back pocket. "You lose a finger. Now, I'm a nice guy, so I'll let you pick which one."

The kid stared at the serrated knife with wide, horrified eyes, fearing gripping his body. All the horror stories of Factory Station played back in his mind, and Bellamy could see them, all the film-worthy torture scenes that the other stations liked to tell their friends about factory station—stupid shit like taking fingers and teeth as payment, stabbing, and robbing people in the middle of the hallways, setting Guards' quarters on fire. Stealing candy from babies.

Some of it was true, but most were total crap. Bellamy would never steal candy from a baby. Most of it was made from recycled tea herbs, which tasted worse than the shit they put in the protein bars.

"Don't hurt me. Please!" Haircut cried. "I'm sorry. Here, just take them. Take them all." He reached into his pocket, and Bellamy watched as he jumbled through his pants and dropped more ration cards than anyone should carry. The kid froze and slowly lifted his head to look at Bellamy with horror. As if he was going to stab him for just dropping them.

Bellamy shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead, pick 'em up."

As Haircut scrambled to the floor, Bellamy folded his knife and stowed it back in his back pocket, deciding he'd done enough. He could do muchmore but didn't want the kid pissing himself.

"Here." The kid offered the stack with shaking hands. Bellamy grabbed it and counted it off.

It was a lot. Actually, it was too much. Who the hell carried this many ration cards on them? An idiot, that's who. He glared at Haircut and went back to counting, shaking his head. "I'm taking what you owe my boss…and what you owe me for wasting my time," he held up his portion and then offered back the rest. Haircut nodded and carefully accepted the cards.

Bellamy placed his rations into his back pocket and then pulled out a small black bag that contained the reason for this shitshow. He tossed it at Haircut, but the kid missed the catch, and it dropped to the floor. And as he reached down to pick it up, Bellamy looked him over. He was young—couldn't have been more than sixteen years old—barely older than his little sister. Getting caught with drugs, a class B infraction, would put him in prison until he was eighteen, and then ultimately floated out into space. Bellamy, on the other hand, would see his own execution immediately because those over the age of seventeen were dispensable and forgettable. To the Ark, it was like taking out the trash.

But Bellamy didn't give a shit what they did to him. His life wasn't the one he worried about.

"Word of advice," he told him, "don't meet a dealer in a jacket that tells the whole world you're sporting these kinds of stacks, or you will run into someone that'll do a lot worse than take a finger." He turned to leave but then turned back. "Oh, and don't ever be late again."

Haircut nodded. "Yeah— yeah. Sorry."

He turned and left the room before his mood could get any shittier.

oOo

Bellamy kept a steady stride as he descended the corridor, passing storage and utility rooms collecting dust. The main rooms were maintained in the central hub closest to the control rooms, where they kept tabs on everyone and everything on the ship. But lucky for him, the Ark's all-seeing eye had a blindspot.

The sky bridge was only a few hallways down now, and in fifteen minutes, he'd be back on his side where the walls were a depressing gray, stained with grime and machine oil, and the recycling air was somehow staler than the rest of the ship. Home sweet home. But the thought didn't weigh on him because he was coming up on his favorite spot on the Ark—an intersection with a wall-sized window with a killer view of Earth. He turned the corner, ready to be greeted by a stream of natural light that constantly flooded out the ship's circadian fluorescent ones, only to freeze in his step.

Someone was sitting at the window.

They hadn't heard or seen him, so he retreated around the corner and pressed his back against the wall. Bellamy thought for a moment… Fuck. He'd done this run a hundred times, and never had he encountered someone on this side of Alpha Station. It had a connecting hallway to the Sky Bridge, but people rarely used it because the one by the main rooms was closer and shorter.

And yet, here they were. Just chilling in Bellamy's spot.

How the hell was he going to get past them?

He could just wait them out…but that would leave him open to being spotted by someone else. Guards sometimes actually did their jobs and patrolled the area.

No, he couldn't stay here.

…fuck it. As far as anyone knew, Bellamy lived here. He was an Alpha asshole like the rest of them.

With resolution setting into his bones, Bellamy turned the corner again and went down the hall with steady and quiet steps. He caught sight of the person and watched if they looked his way. It was a girl, arms resting on folded knees as she stared out the window onto the blue planet that was once the Ark's home. The view of her face was obstructed by a curtain of bright, golden hair that fell past her shoulders. To his relief, she didn't move the slightest.

Just as he turned into the connecting halfway, she spoke, her whisper so low that he nearly missed it. "I hurt myself today."

He froze. Panic held him still, but he was more than ready to bolt.

"To see if I still feel…I focus on the pain…The only thing that's real." She was singing, he realized. Her soft, low voice didn't reach down the corridor, but it reached him. "I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair…Full of broken thoughts…I cannot repair." Bellamy listened, hearing the sadness in her beautiful voice as it went on, growing stronger with each passage. "And you could have it all…My empire of dirt…I will let you down…I will make you hurt…If I could start again…A million miles away…I would keep myself…I would find," she paused and closed her eyes. Then, quietly finished, "A way."

Bellamy stood there, unable to keep the strength of her voice and the pain in her gentle words from sinking into him. They weaved their way into his chest, tightening around his core, and he found himself thinking about his mother and sister. About how much they depended on him. If the Ark caught him dealing, they'd execute him, and his family would have to fend for themselves. But if he didn't, they wouldn't have enough to survive. The Ark only allotted them enough rations for two people. Not three.

The truth was…he was scared. Scared every moment of his life that he'd let them down. That he'd slip up one day and ruin everything they worked so hard to build. Scared that…at the end of the day, he wouldn't be able to stop what was coming. Because no one ever got away with having a second child.

Bellamy swallowed the ball in his throat and hardened himself, stamping on the fear and emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knew what he was doing, Bellamy reminded himself, and when he didn't, he figured it out.

He always figured it out.

The girl's shuddering breath pulled him out of his thoughts. She exhaled deeply, and he knew she'd been crying.

"That was beautiful," he offered, his gruff voice cutting the silence like a sword.

Her eyes shot open, and her head turned toward him. She blinked once and then quickly wiped her tears away. "Sorry," she said, her voice still raw from singing. "I didn't see you there."

Bellamy wasn't sure why she was apologizing. "You don't have to be," he told her.

She swallowed the rest of her tears and looked at him cautiously. "I don't have to be what?"

"Sorry," he replied. "You don't have to be sorry."

The girl stared at him as if she didn't understand, but after a few seconds, the corners of her mouth slowly pulled back into a smile, and she nodded. "Thanks," she said with a light chuckle. "I'll remember that next time."

Bellamy watched as she adjusted the ends of her dark jacket, even though nothing was out of place. He could see more of her face as she smoothed down her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. She was pretty—with big, blue-doe eyes, pink lips that formed a sweet smile, and bright, golden hair that fell in waves along her angelic face.

When he didn't walk away, she paused and looked at him. "Do I know you?"

"No," he said, "I was just…passing through."

She nodded and sniffled away the last of her sadness. When Bellamy still hadn't moved, she shot him an impatient look. "Well," she said, gesturing to the hallway, "pass on through."

Bellamy stared down the corridor and thought for a moment.

He should leave…he really should.

Before he got into trouble.

"You know, I would, but…" he said, turning back to her. "I'm kinda lost." Bellamy was never good at listening to his thoughts. Especially boring ones.

The girl arched an eyebrow. "You're lost?"

Bellamy nodded, looking regretful.

Suspicion grew in her eyes. They dragged over him, slowly and purposefully, as if she was physically patting him down. Not what he expected, but it was a good sign. He was sure of it.

"You're not from Alpha Station, are you?"

He sucked in a breath and held it momentarily before admitting, "Afraid not." Her gaze flicked toward the hallway leading back into Alpha as if she would manage to find a guard standing there. "Look!" he said, moving closer with his hands held up. "I know what you're thinking, but before you report me, hear me out. I have a very good explanation."

"Oh yeah? Let's hear it." Her arms folded over her chest, and she waited, a ghost of a smirk on her lips growing wider as he struggled to come up with something.

After a few seconds, he gave up. "I got nothin'."

She laughed softly, and Bellamy relaxed. Girls usually found him funny, and any girl that found him funny wouldn't rat him out…right?

Shaking her head, the girl stared at the floor as if she were figuring out what to do. After a moment, she sighed and then slid off the window sill. "I'll take you to the bridge," she decided. "But if you're gonna be sneaking around here, try not to draw attention to yourself."

"That was the plan," he remarked. "But then I ran into you. So who's fault is it really?"

She smirked, walking past him. "Also, don't be a smartass. The guards don't like it."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

"It's not far." She gestured to the hallway and, with a flick of her head, told him to follow.

She led him to the Sky Bridge. Not that he didn't know exactly where it was, but he enjoyed the walk, especially now that he could get a good look at her. Her sandy, golden hair cascaded like a waterfall down to her lower back, which wasn't common on his side of the ship. Most girls kept their hair short because it was too difficult to maintain with what little water they were allowed—and good shampoo cost a fortune. She wore a dark jacket with dark pants—all well-fitted around curves that defied starvation. She was Alpha Station, through and through. He'd never been with an Alpha girl, but by how his friend Luke groveled at his girlfriend's feet, they had to be something special.

The girl looked over her shoulder at him and caught him staring, but he didn't flinch. He locked eyes with hers and gave her that slow smile that made girls swoon for him.

She laughed softly to herself and turned away.

That… wasn't the reaction he expected. But he'd take it.

"So, where you from?" she asked aloud.

"Guess."

"Hm…well, you're obviously not from Alpha. And you're too—" she glanced over her shoulder, giving him a quick scan before turning back, "—built to be from Hydra, Tesla, or the other engineering stations." Bellamy smiled to himself. She meant he wasn't wimpy enough to be one of the nerds that worked in the Power Stations. "So you're either from Mecha, Farm, or Factory. Possibly Arrow. But since we're heading to the Sky Bridge… it's either Farm or Factory." When he didn't say anything, she looked over at him. "Am I close?"

"Very."

She smiled to herself, and Bellamy couldn't help but smirk at her little burst of pride.

They walked for a few more meters. "Well, there you go," the girl chimed, gesturing to the glass-paned corridor that connected Alpha to the rest of the ship.

He stopped beside her and looked at the Sky Bridge. Encased in glass, the short connection was one of the most incredible places on the ship. The stars could be seen so clearly and brightly here that sometimes it looked like a goddamn light show.

But Bellamy wasn't interested in stars.

He turned back to the girl who stared up at him and realized her eyes weren't just blue—also green, like turquoise gemstones—and that he'd been dead wrong before. She wasn't pretty. She was fucking beautiful. With all the grace and perfection of a white dove. If he was one of those bald Greek poets, he'd write poems about her all day, write words like ethereal and weep, and others he'd never used in his entire goddamn life. He'd compare her to flowers and planets and always feel like nothing could do her beauty justice. He'd probably lose his mind trying to do so.

Bellamy blinked. What the hell is going on? Since when did he think about poetry?

Clearing his throat, he quickly purged his mind of any more insane thoughts. "You still haven't guessed," he reminded her, bringing himself back into focus.

Those gorgeous eyes dragged over him again, and more thoughts filled his head, but these were more familiar. He'd write poetry…on her skin—with his tongue.

Her eyes flicked back to his face. "Show me your hands."

He laughed. "Well, that's a little forward. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "Just show them to me."

"Since you asked so nicely." He lifted his hands, palm facing up. She leaned in to look at them, and she was close enough that he could smell the soft scent of her lavender shampoo. Expensive stuff, but he knew the smell well enough. Anytime he could get some decent shampoo or soap for his mother and sister, he'd ensure it was lavender.

She took one of his hands into hers, and it ignited him like a furnace, all his blood pouring into his lower regions. It shocked him. She'd only touched his hand, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to smash his lips against hers and taste every inch of her. Over and over again.

He was losing his mind. He was sure of it.

Her thumb rubbed across his palm, feeling the rough lines and the small scars he'd gotten from working the assembly lines. She stared at them for a long time with an unreadable expression before she said in a low voice, "You need to be more careful. That passage isn't as empty as it used to be. At least, not anymore. Next time, it might not be me that catches you."

His dove looked up at him with so much softness and care, like she understood something. Something about him. And he was trapped in it. Trapped in her glow, her scent, the lithe of her voice. But most of all, her kindness. He could see it, beaming off of her like sun rays. He wanted to keep basking in it forever and couldn't care less if a guard showed up.

Bellamy looked down at their hands, his thumb passing over hers. "What if I want it to be?" He met her gaze, and she flinched. She hadn't expected that which told him she wasn't used to being hit on. Which was a crazy idea. What guy wouldn't jump at the chance to just talk to her?

His blood boiled at the thought of someone even looking at his dove the wrong way.

His…dove?

Her shoulders lowered, and the shock on her face was replaced by a playful smile. "Then you'd be looking for trouble," she teased.

Bellamy smirked. "I like trouble."

She laughed. "I can tell." She released his hand and glanced at the bridge.

He stared at her, wondering why he'd never seen her before. The Ark was a big ship, holding more than a thousand survivors in more than five districts, but it wasn't that big. "What's your name?" he asked.

The girl turned back to him. She thought for a moment before answering, "Marie," she replied. That was a lie. Why was she lying to him? "What's yours?"

"Bellamy."

With a polite smile, she said, "Well, Bellamy, it was nice chatting with you…but it's time for you to stop flirting with me and get your ass across that bridge."

Bellamy grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

She walked past him, her lavender aroma wafting around him, and he took a deep breath. Can I see you again? The question teetered on the edge of his tongue. He wanted to see her again. He had to. "Marie," he called to her.

Marie stopped and looked over her shoulder. And as if she saw the question on his face, her smile faded. She cleared her throat. "Goodnight, Bellamy." And with that, her pace quickened, and she was gone around the corner before he could say anything else. Never once turning back to look at him.

Bellamy stood there for a few seconds, wondering if he should chase after her. He'd never chased a girl before, but there was always a first for everything, and his ego would understand if he dropped everything for a goddess? What mere mortal wouldn't?

He stepped in her direction…and then yanked himself in the other.

He liked trouble. No, he loved it. But he wasn't stupid enough to run back into enemy territory twice in one day and risk himself getting floated before he could secure his family's safety. Not even to relieve the tightness in his pants.

Or the one in his chest.

The scent of her shampoo stayed with him until it was replaced by Factory Station's perpetual metallic and mildew smell.

After many years of struggle and frustration, this story has been renamed (formerly, Love & Duty), re-vamped, re-written, and re-edited. The overall storyline remains the same, and chapters you've already read will appear later on, but this story will take place before season 1 of the show. The OC's appearance and characterization have changed slightly, but her core values remain unchanged. This is the final version of this story, and other than a few trivial edits, it will never be changed again. Ever.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck around and for their patience.