Chapter Text
PASSING OF THE SKYE BOAT
By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
CHAPTER ONE
Sing Me a Song
Washington D.C. – 2019
When Clarke decided to tag along with Johnathan for his trip to Washington D.C., she knew there would be a good amount of time where she was left to her own devices. To be honest, she figured it’d be for the best – the two of them had just returned from a war only a few months ago as nothing more than strangers, deciding to take a trip to the nation’s capital to relearn who they were. Of course, that was only part of the deal. The other part was Johnathan’s new job as a consultant to get to know his employer while they were still in town.
Which is why Clarke finds herself wandering around the Smithsonian in the early hours of a Wednesday by herself, leaning close to see the paintings she’s only seen in textbooks. “Ah, I can tell that you’re an artist.”
Clarke startles at the voice, first thinking she’s done something wrong. When a tour guide smiles warmly at her, kind eyes behind his spectacles, she relaxes. “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not an artist.”
“Oh yes you are,” the man says. “Do you want to know how I know?”
“How?”
“You lean in,” he says, bringing his face as close to the painting as she did only moments before.
“I-I just wanted to see the brushstrokes.”
“Ah!” The man says, putting his finger up. “People who aren’t artists do not care about brush strokes, my dear. They don’t feel the need to press their faces as close as they possibly can before they touch the paintings. I love it when artists come in, but it always a little stressful.”
“Sorry,” Clarke responds sheepishly. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been in an art museum. And,” she says, her words quiet. “I’m not an artist. I mean, I used to love drawing when I was younger, and sure, it’s gotten me through some hard times, but that’s not what I do.”
“Being an artist isn’t what you do, it’s who you are.” The man says thoughtfully. “Just because it’s not what you do to pay the bills, does not mean it doesn’t live within your bones.”
Clarke huffs a laugh. “It’s a nice thought.”
“How do you spend your days, when you aren’t longing to study brushstrokes.”
“I’m a nurse,” Clarke says quietly. “An army nurse, actually. I-I just got back from oversees.”
The man doesn’t respond to that right away. He grows quiet, as most do when she mentions it. Then, she feels a gentle hand against her arm. “Thank you,”
He doesn’t say more than that. Clarke isn’t sure what to say when being thanked, especially with the memories of what happened over there so fresh in her mind. She reminds herself that she’s safe within this museum surrounded by war.
“What brings you to the capital?”
Clarke is grateful for a change of subject. “My fiancé and I haven’t seen each other in over a year – we’re both out of the military now. He’s starting a job as a weapons consultant and I’m about to start my tenure as a civilian nurse. We thought it would be nice to have a vacation before those new worlds start.”
“And you’re here by yourself?”
Clarke smiles. “Probably for the best,” Clarke says distantly. “He doesn’t feel the need to lean in on paintings nearly as much as I do.”
The man chuckles. “So you can be free to stare at paintings as long as you need.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, happy studying. I will say, we have a new exhibit in the main courtyard that you may want to check out. It isn’t open to the public yet, but to a select few that charm the security guard—” The man peers around him faux-conspiratorially, pulling a card out of his pocket. “Show this to them and they’ll let you see it.”
Clarke takes the pass and beams. “What’s the exhibit of?”
“NASA just released some new technology of what they plan to do when the world is disintegrated to a complete disinterest in climate change, or hell, if we have a full nuclear meltdown that destroys the planet. It’s the first of its kind – a spaceship that could potentially keep the human race alive in case the Earth isn’t livable anymore. Crazy, right?”
Clarke frowns at the card in her hand. “Every day, it seems less and less crazy,” she says to herself. “Thank you!” She reminds herself to call to him. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”
Except the man is gone. She looks around, trying to find a place where he might’ve run off to, but sees nothing. Holding the pass in her hands, she shakes the feeling that something very odd just happened. She continues through the exhibit as she once had, but there’s something in the back of her mind. The pass feels like a weight that’s holding her down, and she can’t help but ask for directions to the new exhibit.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. When she pulls it out, she sees a message from Johnathan, his face lighting up her screen. He’s a handsome one, time apart didn’t make her forget that. He has a childish warmth around his eyes she’s always loved. They’ve only been back together for a month, but the intense love she once felt for him was already back with her, as they relearned who they are as these new people.
Johnathan: Meeting ended early. In time for lunch with my love?
Clarke can’t help but smile at his. He was always much better with words of affection than she was – his letters to her in war something that could be put in a museum and have women faun over. She’s always been much more direct and clear, but never hid how much she loved him.
Except right now?
If she took a bus back to their hotel, she could meet him for lunch. But then she wouldn’t be able to see the NASA exhibit. Sure, she’d never really been one to want to be an astronaut, but has always been a lover of the stars. She took the Stephen Hawking quote to heart – never look at your feet, always raise your sights to the stars.
Biting the inside of her lip, Clarke peers between her phone and the ticket in her hand.
Clarke: So sorry – I think I may have wandered too far. I don’t think you’d be able to make your 2:00pm meeting.
Johnathan: My weary traveler… ;P
Clarke: You know me, never an adventure too small
Johnathan: We still on for dinner?
Clarke: Wouldn’t miss it. <3
He sends her an emoji of a kissing face, which she laughs at. She isn’t sure when he started using those – he once called them lazy consonants – but it makes her smile nonetheless. A part of her feels a little bad that she’s not going to have lunch with him, and she knows that if she explained the situation, he would understand. But everything is still so fresh – their time apart is simply too new for her to risk it.
Wandering outside, Clarke blinks in the crisp D.C. air. It’s so loud here in the city, but loud in a different way than she’s used to. The noise doesn’t mean that she’s in danger, the yelling doesn’t mean that someone is hurt. She tells herself this over and over again, until she finds herself facing the courtyard.
There are caution ropes everywhere, as well as a security guard standing out front with his hands crossed. “Hi,” she says walking up, feeling more nervous than she should. “I was given this to see the exhibit early?”
The security guard drops his eyes down to the piece of paper. “Ah, Jerry has been handing those out again. Feel free to look around. Don’t touch anything.”
“I would never—”
“I just mean, the exhibit is still going up. Things are a bit in flux.”
“Of course.”
Clarke moves past the barriers and inside the exhibit. She’s greeted to a sign that reads THE ARK PROJECT above her head, renderings of large mechanical wheels in the sky. It makes her shiver, thinking of being trapped in there. She watches everyone bustle around to get the exhibit ready, feeling very out of place as she wanders around, trying to stay out of the way.
The exhibit is intoxicating, though. Charts and data about the end of the world – about how humanity will destroy itself – is a terrifying, but believable though. She fiddles with the ends of her braid as she reads. “Scary, isn’t it?”
Clarke needs to stop letting people startle her. When a man in a pair of jeans and a hard hat steps up to her, she flinches. “Yeah, it’s really scary.”
“And we still have people saying climate change isn’t real. Can you imagine the amount of ignoring you have to employ to do that?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to pretend things aren’t as bad as they are.” Clarke muses. “It’s a way to keep sane.”
“Well, they’re driving me insane.” The man laughs. “You know, the best part of the exhibit is actually through those doors. They have an actual example of a hallway that they’re putting in the Ark.”
Clarke makes a surprised noise. “You mean NASA is actually building this in case humanity blows itself up?”
“You think it won’t? With this administration?” The man laughs. “Actually, they already launched the first test – Mir-3. The Ark is the revision.”
Clarke frowns. “What happened to Mir-3?”
“It provided a lot of great data to make The Ark a success.” The man smiles. “That’s the motto of NASA. Don’t view it as a failure. View it as a stepping stone to make the next part a success.”
“I need to remember that.” Clarke responds. “Through here?”
“Yeah. You should be in luck, everyone working on that section just went to lunch. You should have it to yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Making her way into the back room, she has to stop when she makes her way through the entrance.
It’s breathtaking.
For something made of metal, it’s beautiful. There are curves and different shines, all bolted together. There’s a flimsy piece of rope up around it, but Clarke can’t help herself. After taking a quick look around her shoulder, Clarke steps over the rope so she can get close to the piece of the Ark. “A way to save humanity,” she says to herself gently. “We ask so many times how to survive, maybe we should be asking ourselves if we should.”
A soft buzzing sound starts in her ears. Clarke isn’t sure what’s happening. She can hear a soft voice in the distance, like they’re calling to her. She can barely make it out, but the words are beautiful. Haunting.
It’s in a language she doesn’t understand, but it grows, the closer she gets to the Ark.
“Yumi na teik, won sonraun au?”
It’s a beautiful sound. She moves closer to the piece of metal. It resounds from inside the Ark, as if the Ark itself was coming alive.
“Medo ste thonken, medo drein au.”
Clarke searches for someone – anyone – to stop her from getting even closer. She stands before the metal beast, the words loud enough as if the person is singing them right next to her. Something stirs alive in her chest – the ache from war waning and a piece of her longing to reach out. She doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand the need to hear the words more, to touch the Ark, as if another life calls to her.
“Oso kik raun, ogeda soulou.”
Without giving it another ounce of thought, Clarke reaches out and puts her hands on the sleek metal. She thinks she hears someone scream, but before she can utter an apology, the world starts to spin and grow black. But not before she hears the gentle tickle of words in her ears:
“Will you take a life with me?”
***
When she comes round, the first thing she registers is the noise.
Everything is so loud that a part of her wonders if she’s back in the warzone and that the past few months have been nothing more than a cruel joke. When she sits up, leaves in her hair and her jeans streaked with mud, Clarke blinks.
She’s in the woods.
How she’s gotten to the woods, she doesn’t know. The trees are vast and loom over her as gunshot resound somewhere distantly. Scrambling to her feet, Clarke tries to get her bearings.
No, she’s not at the Smithsonian anymore. At least, she doesn’t think she is. She’s not with her platoon either because all she could remember before was the desert. Somehow she’s in a forest that she doesn’t recognize. She looks around for some sort of sign – some trail that she could use to find her way back. Clarke doesn’t even know the hiking around the D.C. area.
Sneaking as quietly as possible, Clarke tries to ignore the gunshots that ring around her. When someone moves from behind a tree, she freezes. He points a gun at her, taking a mask of his head. “Johnathan!” Clarke says, relieved. “Johnathan, what are we doing here? What happened?”
Except… the man doesn’t look like Johnathan.
Sure, his facial features are all but identical, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that isn’t present in her fiancé’s. He doesn’t lower his gun, taking a step toward her. “My name isn’t Johnathan,” he says and even that sounds like him – but doesn’t at the same time. “It’s Cage.”
“Johnathan, please stop whatever this is.” Clarke says, something resembling panic caught in her throat.
“Based on your clothing, I believe I found another one of the Sky People.” Cage states, moving even closer. “I would’ve thought that they wouldn’t let you guys wander by yourself anymore. But it must be my lucky day.”
“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks, her voice verging on terror. “I just want to go home—”
“So do my people.” Cage says, finally lowering the gun. “Which is why I’m very sorry to have to do this to you.”
Without any warning, the man sprints at her, tackling Clarke before she can even register what’s going on. He holds her by her wrists as she struggles. “Get off of me!” Clarke cries, managing to wrench her right arm out of his grasp and swinging upward so that she connects solidly with his jaw.
He makes a noise and loosens his grip long enough so that she can push him off of her. Clarke scrambles to her feet and moves to sprint away, but he grabs her ankle so that she collapses to the ground. “Not so fast,” he breathes, pulling her closer. “You are mine now. You’re going to make it so my people can be free.”
“Stop!” Clarke cries. He brings his gun out and places it close to her temple and she freezes. “Please,” she says, trying a different tactic. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Cage says, brushing the cool metal against her cheek. “You know exactly what I have to do. You will—”
“Get off of her!”
Before Clarke can isolate the source of the voice, a figure comes barreling out of the woods and launches himself at Cage. The two sprawl on the ground so that Clarke can get on her feet and move away. The man cocks his fist back and swings at Cage, causing him to cry out. But before he can grab the gun that Clarke notes is tucked in his pants, Cage swings out and shoves the man off of him. Fortunately, he doesn’t fall, merely stumbles and manages to get the gun.
Except Cage sprints away.
Clarke stands, back pressed against the back of a tree, breathing labored. She tries to get rid of all the fear that’s coursing through her, but can’t bring herself to move away from the man with the curly brown hair and gun in hand. “What the hell were you thinking, wandering off alone!” He shouts once he’s decided that Cage isn’t coming back. “You know you can’t just be in the woods alone with the Mountain Men out and about.” He turns and stalks toward where Clarke is, raising a hand in the air. “Wait, who the hell are—”
When he gets in swinging distance, Clarke raises her fist and strikes him as hard as she can. He stumbles backwards, clutching his face where she’s hit him. “Stay away from me!” She cries, starting to tremble.
“What the hell!” He exclaims. “I just saved your life!”
“Don’t come any closer!” Clarke exclaims, taking a few steps back. “I don’t care if you have a gun, I will hit you again!”
“Wait a second, who are you?” The man asks. “Are you from another piece of the Ark?”
“The Ark?” Clarke asks, blinking. “How do you know about the Ark?”
The man sighs. “I knew there had to be more pieces and more people who survived. Don’t worry, my name is Bellamy. I can take you to the Council.”
“I will be doing no such thing!” Clarke yells. “I’m not going anywhere with you – I need to find a way home!”
“Your home is this way,” Bellamy insists. “Are there more survivors from your side of the ship?”
“What are you talking about?” Clarke cries. “I just need to find—”
A round of gunshots cut her off and Bellamy doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around her and places a hand across her mouth and presses the two of them against a tree. Clarke fists her first instinct that he is so close and then moves to the second: anger. Grabbing his hand and pulling it off her face, she hisses, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut up, the Mountain Men are here.” He whispers. Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out a small handgun. “Do you know how to shoot?”
“Excuse you, I was in the Army for six years.”
“You were in the Guard?” Bellamy asks, blinking. “How do I not know you?”
Clarke isn’t sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, he doesn’t dwell because he places the gun in her hand. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”
“I just got back from war, I know the necessity of shooting when you have the shot.”
Bellamy makes another face, but doesn’t pry. He doesn’t move right away, either. He continues to press himself against her, peering around the base of the tree for whoever these Mountain Men are. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he breathes. “I’m going to draw them away and you run to the south. That’s where my camp is. Tell them that Bellamy sent you and they won’t shoot you. Maybe. I mean who knows, right?”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“It’s all I can offer you right now, Princess.” Bellamy says with a smirk. “While you’re at it, ask them to give you more practical clothes.”
Clarke glances down at her skinny jeans and cardigan. “I didn’t think I’d be getting in the middle of another war today!”
“You didn’t?” Bellamy asks. “It’s my general state of being.” He cocks his gun. “Now run fast!”
With that, he sprints deep in to the woods and gunshots follow.
She wants to ignore his demand on principle, but seeing as 50% of the people she has met wanted to kill her and the other 50% instructed her to safety, she sprints to the south. There are people screaming and yelling, but she pushes herself further. “Where am I?” she asks herself as she sprints through the trees.
None of this makes sense. Sure, Bellamy had clothes she recognized from shows on television, shows about the end of the world and surviving a hostile planet. But the is absurd.
She stops when an absurd thought hits her. It trickles down her spine, chilling her like ice.
He knew what the Ark was. Even more than that, he spoke as if he lived on it.
“No,” Clarke says to herself. “That’s absurd. That is the most absurd thing anyone has ever thought.”
The gunshots slowly dwindle and she stops running, trying to take stock of her surroundings. “I can’t have gone to the future, that is absurd. That is scientifically impossible. I—”
“Hands where I can see them!”
Someone shouts something and Clarke raises her hands instantly. “B-Bellamy sent me!” Clarke shouts, unsure of what else to do.
“What did you say?”
“Bellamy sent me!” She repeats, setting the gun on the ground and keeping her hands up. “He told me to go to the south to camp!”
There’s some hushed words from somewhere in front of her. Clarke wonders if this is the moment she’s going to die. She spent her past year and a half in a war zone, and didn’t expect her trip to D.C. to be the thing that kills her. Clarke tells herself that everyone has a moment where they die. It’s true of all living creatures.
Except when a few people emerge from behind some trees, guns pointed at her, she marvels at how close in age they are to her – if not younger. She expected trained killers, but one of the kids is so lanky, it looks like the gun may make him topple over. “Who are you?” The lanky kid says.
“Clarke.” She replies her hands still up. “I-I’m—”
It’s when Clarke decides to take a chance. To take a chance on a theory that doesn’t make any sense, but one that she’s going to go for anyway. “I’m from one of the broken pieces of the Ark. Bellamy found me before someone named Cage to could take me.”
The lanky man brings his gun down instantly. “Why didn’t you say so?” He exclaims. “I’m Jasper – this is Monty and Murphy.”
The one named Monty brings his weapon down the moment Jasper does, but Murphy doesn’t. “How do we know she’s telling the truth? Anyone can just throw Bellamy’s name around, you know that he’s made a name for himself.”
“That’s true,” Jasper says, lifting his gun a little. “But how would she know the other stuff?”
“We literally fell from the sky!” Murphy exclaims. “Everyone knows that!”
Clarke tries not to react to any of this, but she can’t help but marvel. “Listen,” Clarke says, thinking of all the signs she read in the museum before touching the piece of the Ark. She pulls on every piece of information she can thinking of, before launching into, “If you don’t believe me, I grew up in the Ark, which was built to survive nuclear war after the world wasn’t habitable. I was a part of the Ark that was coming back down here, but it broke into pieces because it had so many curved surfaces and was worn in space.”
Jasper gives Murphy a ‘I told you’ look and even Murphy sighs and brings down his weapon. “I still don’t trust you,” he snaps.
Clarke eyes the gun. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“Oh, I like her.” Monty says, nudging Jasper’s arm.
“Why don’t we get you inside before—”
“Make way!” Someone shouts and another figure rushes by when someone limps out of the woods. Clarke startles when she sees Bellamy holding his arm, wincing in pain as he moves forward and gives the person who greeted him a faint smile. “Bellamy, are you alright?”
“Fine, just a scratch.”
“That doesn’t look like a scratch.”
“Shut up, Lincoln, or my sister is going to overreact.”
“Overreact to you hurting yourself? I would call that just ‘reacting.’”
“Shut up.” Bellamy turns his head. “Hey – glad you made it back safe.”
“I told you, Murphy!”
“God, shut up Jasper!”
“You didn’t,” Clarke says, not able to help the panic in her voice.
“I told you, this is just a scratch. I’ll be better in no time. I can ask my sister to try and set it.”
“Is your sister a medical professional?”
“My mom taught her how to sew.”
“Oh my god,” Clarke breathes. “Get out of my way, now.” She snaps at Murphy.
“Who do you think you are?”
“My name is Clarke, I already told you that, now move.” Clarke demands, pushing past him. “You – Monty,” she says. “Do you have any wrappings?”
“What?”
“Any gauze, any tape?”
Everyone looks at her as if she’s grown a second head. “Do you have anything?” Clarke asks, her words less harsh this time.
No one makes eye contact with her.
“Do you have alcohol?”
“That we do!” Jasper exclaims, rushing off.
“Of course, that you have,” Clarke mutters under her breath.
When Bellamy sits on a chair in the middle of their camp, people flit around when they see him. “Bellamy!” A few people cry and run up to him, but Clarke puts her hands up.
“Please, I just need a little space.” She instructs.
“What’s the alcohol for?” Bellamy asks, his words tight. “I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s dislocated. No blood anywhere. If you knew me, you’d know how rare that is.”
“The alcohol’s for me,” Clarke jokes as Jasper runs up, a jar in hand. “For having to put up with all of you.”
“And here I thought I was being welcoming.”
Clarke chuckles, but hands the jar to Bellamy. He eyes it, so Clarke says, “Trust me. In a moment, you would’ve wished you had taken it when offered.”
Bellamy huffs a laugh, taking a deep pull and setting it down after wincing. “God, that is so awful.”
“Hey!” Jasper cries from somewhere in the crowd.
“I don’t think taste is what is the point of something like that.” Clarke laughs. “Are you fond of this shirt?”
“What?”
Without asking another questions, she tears it down the seam until it’s nothing more than a pile off to the side. “What the hell?” Bellamy cries.
“Would you rather me ask you to lift your hand over your head?” Clarke asks. When Bellamy scowls, she breathes, “I didn’t think so. God, it’s so dirty, I can’t even make a sling with it. It could infect all your cuts.”
“Been through worse.”
“That shouldn’t be a yardstick for poor life choices.” She snaps. Gazing around, everyone is completely filthy. “There’s nothing to wrap his arm with?”
Again she gets nothing.
“Aw shit,” she mutters to herself. Taking her cardigan off, she looks at her generic t-shirt underneath. It’s a nice blue, the kind of color that she thinks brings out her eyes. With a quick motion, she pulls it over her head. Clarke’s grateful she’s been so used to wearing sports bras under her uniform that she did so today, otherwise this would be even more uncomfortable than it already is.
“What are you doing?” Bellamy asks, recoiling.
“Setting your arm,” she says, rolling her shirt and setting it to the side. “Still not best case scenario, but it’ll have to do.” She runs her fingers down his shoulder until she pinpoints where it’s dislocated, placing her hand on his back. “So, your name is Bellamy?”
Bellamy’s still staring at her like he’s mildly frightened of her. “Uh,” he swallows. “Yes?”
“Interesting name,” she muses. “How long have you been on Earth?”
“I came with the first wave of people – the 100 delinquents they sent to see if it was livable.” He says, still not moving.
“I see, that’s why I didn’t know you,” Clarke lies, trying not to let his words affect her. “You know, my mom always said—”
With a quick motion, she snaps his bone back into place, hearing the snap when she finds it. He lets out a small yell, which quickly ends, leaving her to gently place his hand in front of him. “Sorry,” she whispers. “It’s always best when you don’t see it coming. I swear, it really does hurt less.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Taking her rolled up shirt, Clarke moves and wraps it around his shoulders, carefully cradling his arm in it. She practiced a lot of these in-the-field techniques in war. It’s one of her strong suits – adaptability. Tying the sleeves around his head, Clarke sits across from him on the bench. “There.” She says with a smile. “Now don’t move it or shoot or do anything stupid.”
“Bell? Not do anything stupid?” Someone says as they push through the crowd. They all but launch themselves at him, but Clarke is quick enough to place a hand out. The woman startles, there’s a flash of anger that crosses her face, then she looks at the sling. “Oh right, sorry. Bellamy, why are you such an idiot all the time?”
“I’m not an idiot, O, there were just Mountain Men.”
“Why were you in the woods by yourself in the first place?” The girl named ‘O’ asks. “You know we have to be in groups – it’s your rule!”
Bellamy’s eyes flit in Clarke’s direction, who rushes out. “It’s my fault. He heard me getting attacked – I imagine he left his group then.”
It’s a bad lie, but it seems to work with most. Clarke places her hands over her bare stomach, the wind chill getting to her a bit. “I don’t mean to be high maintenance, but does someone have a shirt I can have?”
“Why? I’m enjoying the view.”
“Don’t be gross, Murphy.”
“What? I still don’t trust her, but she’s nice to look at.”
Clarke decides in that moment that she can’t be self-conscious. With a quick breath, she stands, moves over to Murphy, and places her hands on her hips. “Did you know that the feelings of fear and attraction are very close in the brain?” She asks. “Continue the way you’re going, and I’ll tell you exactly which way it’s going to tip.”
Murphy’s eyes narrow. Then he laughs – changing his entire demeanor. “Okay, I like you. I’ll take you to Raven, maybe she has an extra.”
Clarke allows herself to be led across the camp, small fires burning out and weapons leaning against tents. Casting a look behind her, she sees Bellamy’s watching her walk away with a curious expression on his face. Like she’s a puzzle he simply can’t figure out.
Clarke doesn’t want to know what will happen when he does.
***
Clarke finds herself by herself in front of a fire, her hands out in front of her as she tries to warm. She’s no stranger to uncomfortable situations, but this one is on a whole other level. In short: it’s weird. She can’t ignore the facts that are staring at her in the face: she is in the future.
Not only is she in the future, she’s in a future where NASA was right. Humans blew up the world and they needed the Ark to keep the species going. She isn’t sure how she got here, but she finds her chest aching. It’s been the first moment since she landed where she was able to really muse over what’s happening and her mind drifts to Johnathan. Is she gone from her time? Is he searching for her?
Her thoughts of him are clouded when Cage’s face hijacks it. She shivers when she remembers how it felt to have him on top of her, his face so close to hers.
They looked so similar.
Yet, were so different.
“You doing okay?”
Clarke gazes up to see Bellamy making his way over to where she is, a few things in his hands. He sits next to where she is, handing her a cup and a plate of food. “Thank you,” she says, bringing it to her lap. She moves to take a drink, but Bellamy cuts her off.
“Warning you, that’s moonshine. I didn’t want it to be too much of a surprise.”
Clarke chuckles. “Well, after the day I’ve had, I think I’ve earned a drink.”
“I agree. Maybe even more than one.” Bellamy laughs. He brings his own plate to his lap and eyes her. “You’re a mystery to me Clarke.”
“Am I now?”
“I don’t like mysteries. Not here, at least.” He continues. “Mysteries usually mean that someone’s about to die.”
The two settle in an uncomfortable silence after that.
“What do you want to know about me?” Clarke asks.
“I’ve asked all around and no one has heard of a Clarke. What’s even your last name?”
Clarke panics. She could offer her current last name, but it’s common enough to where there might be someone with the last name Griffin on the Ark. So she pivots. “What does it even matter?” Clarke asks, shutting her eyes. “I am a no one. I thought I was done fighting and here I am, still fighting.”
Bellamy makes an agreeing noise. “I suppose I get that.” He fiddles with the food on his plate. “Thank you, by the way.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I never thanked you for setting my shoulder. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Are you a doctor or something?”
“Nurse.” Clarke says. “And I’m very familiar with triage.”
“I can tell. Granted I thought you were going to throw something at Jasper when he didn’t have any supplies.”
“I just can’t believe you’re in a war with no supplies!”
“Ah, they don’t want to give them to us.” Bellamy mutters.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, as you know, we were the ones sent to the Ground to see if it was inhabitable. We are all expendable. But we actually did survive. And when the rest of you came back down, we wanted to stay in our own camp. In the dropship where we survived. But they don’t want to give us supplies unless we return to Arkadia.”
“So you’re simply living out here alone, without supplies? That’s idiotic.”
“Geez, tell me how you really feel.” Bellamy snorts, taking a swig of his drink. “We get supplies from some of the Grounders.”
“What’s going on?” Clarke asks tentatively. “I-I’ve been by myself for so long that I – I don’t know—”
Bellamy places a hand on hers. “You’re not alone anymore, Clarke.”
When he says that, something stirs in her chest.
She hates that it does, but it does.
She’s been telling herself she’s not alone. She has Johnathan – she has a life. But when she came back from war, she’s never felt more alone in her life. Like the rest of the world is behind glass and she’s merely watching.
When Clarke doesn’t respond, Bellamy launches into an explanation, but keeps his hand on hers. “You know the old expression ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ We were at war with the Grounders – people who survived all the nuclear blowout – only to find that the Mountain Men of Mount Weather have been kidnapping our people to gain a radiation resistance. They’ve been doing this to the Grounders for ages, but it turns out our blood is more susceptible because we were in space. Like, cure them entirely. So they’ve been after us ever since.”
“So when that man was saying he was going to take me—”
“He was going to harvest your bone marrow until you died.”
Clarke shivers and Bellamy squeezes her hand. “We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone.” He lets go, but it feels like he’s still holding it. Clarke shifts a bit away from him.
“I wonder if it would’ve been better for me to stay on my side of the world,” Clarke says jokingly, thinking of the NASA exhibit that felt like just moments before and also years away at the same time.
Bellamy lets out a laugh. “Who knows. You could’ve had a very successful life as a hermit.”
Clarke sets her food down, her appetite gone. She thinks of the Ark that she touched. If she could get back to it, perhaps she could go back to her world. “Do you need another soldier?” She asks, a plan formulating in her brain. “I have it on great authority that I have tremendous work ethic.”
“We have enough soldiers,” Bellamy laughs. “But we are in desperate need of a doctor.”
Clarke smiles. “Happens to be my specialty.”
Clarke returns to her food, setting herself. When they go after the kidnapped in Mount Weather, she will find her way back to the Ark.
Clarke will find her way back home.