Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Earth.

It always felt like a distant dream, even though it was right there—just beyond the pressurized window. It seemed painted, peaceful, unreal… so different from the reality they all knew on the Ark.

It had been ninety-seven years since humanity was wiped out in a nuclear war that rendered the planet uninhabitable.

What was left of the human race was now on that spaceship. For three generations they had lived orbiting, following the Earth. Near it, but never touching. It was a saddening thought.

Lily Hale had always watched the place that should have been their home, asking herself if it would have been as hard to survive if they were still there, if radiation had never forced them to flee.

The Ark had been their sanctuary, but it was anything but. It was a hard life, strict and unforgiving. Rules were what kept humanity alive to them, but they were also killing humanity itself.

"Try to be kind, Lily," was one of the last things her mother had told her before dying. Her mother, Mira Hale, was a woman who had always believed in sensibility, as if that alone could save lives. It was a nice thought, but sometimes it felt difficult to follow.

The Ark and its Council and its rules and its guards made sensitivity seem so unimportant, but it wasn't. Lily wanted to believe her mother, the woman who had raised her alone for thirteen years. She was a good woman, and brave. And all her strength was based on that principle.

But Marcus Kane believed in something else entirely. And calling him “father” never felt quite right. Especially now.

In her skybox, the heaviness of their lives on the Ark hit even harder. She could not stop thinking about all the people who had been locked in the same cell for even the most insignificant crimes, waiting to be floated. Now it was her turn, and Lily was not so sure that Councilor Marcus Kane would help the daughter no one knew about after she turned eighteen. She wasn't confident about it at all. People got floated for the smallest infractions, and she had been accused of stealing. That was a severe crime.

"I just wanted to do what was right, Mum," she whispered, from where she was sitting on the ground, her legs to her chest, her face hidden behind her arms. She would cry, and think, and stay silent. Her days were all the same.

But not that one.

The sound of her cell opening made Lily gasp, slowly getting to her feet, her hand pressed against the cold metal wall, frowning as she recognized the figure stepping through the door.

"Marcus?" she asked, confused. He didn’t answer. His posture was rigid, his expression carved in stone. He looked at her the same way he always had—distant, unreadable. She had spent years trying to understand him, but she never managed, no matter how much she tried.

"Prisoner 136, face the wall," he said curtly, just as another guard entered the cell.

"What's happening?" she asked, refusing to turn away from him, her voice thin but defiant. But Marcus didn’t respond. He simply gestured toward the wall again.

Lily let out a frustrated breath, biting down the heat rising in her chest, and turned as instructed. She knew he wouldn’t say anything until she obeyed.

"Now can you tell me what is going on?" she asked again, trying to keep her tone steady, though her hands were trembling. Nothing about this was normal. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Hold out your arm," Marcus said, his steps measured as he approached.

Her heart was pounding violently. She extended her arm with hesitation, fingers twitching as he took hold of her wrist. Then she winced, hissing through her teeth as a sharp sting pierced her skin. She instinctively pulled her arm back and looked down—there was a metal band locked tight around her wrist, still burning slightly where it had clicked into place.

Only then did she lift her gaze to her father.

"What is this?" she asked confused, her voice breaking as her eyes searched his face. "Marcus…"

He was observing her silently, before giving a quick look to the guard in her cell.

"You’ll be sent to the ground. All one hundred of you," he said, the words flat, almost rehearsed, as he looked back at her.

"What?" Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like it might explode. "Why now? We're supposed to wait another hundred years. That’s what the experts said."

"Experts can make mistakes," he said, his stone cold face looking at her directly. That was too dangerous, the radiations could be strong still, they should be strong still for what they knew. And he was willing to use kids as lab rats, he was willing to let her die like that.

"If the radiations are there still we are all going to die," Lily said to him, and for a moment she thought he was going to answer, but instead he turned to the guard and gave a nod.

"No!" she screamed as the man grabbed her by the shoulders and began to drag her out of the cell. "Marcus! Stop them—this is insane! Marcus!" Her voice cracked as she fought, twisting in his grip, desperate to break free. But the moment she crossed the threshold, another guard seized her other arm, and together they forced her through the corridor. She kept shouting his name, looking back over her shoulder until the hallway turned and she lost sight of her cell—and of him.

He hadn’t moved.

Her blue eyes blurred with tears of fear and disbelief as she was pulled past other cells, where more inmates were being rounded up. Some looked dazed. Others terrified. The sounds of confusion and resistance echoed against the steel walls, but it all felt muffled, distant.

Lily couldn’t breathe properly. Her chest was rising too fast, her heart hammering against her ribs, her vision narrowing. She was gasping, struggling to draw air that just wouldn’t come. Her whole body shook as they reached the launch bay. The dropship loomed ahead—dark, massive, the final sentence of their lives on the Ark.

The ship felt like a cage again, but far more scary. The two guards pushed her in abruptly, almost making her lose her balance. Her breath was laboured, knowing that they were all condemned to die from the radiation. Another guard took her by the arm, pushing her to the ladder, forcing her to climb up.

When Lily arrived on the second floor, another guard took her so that he could lead her toward her seat, pushing her down.

"Fasten your belt," he said firmly, before going to another inmate who was climbing the ladder. Lily could not believe what was happening. The Council was really that cruel to send a hundred teenagers to die? For what? Why now?

And she could not stop thinking about Marcus. That had been the last time she would ever see her father, and all she felt was anger and pain. How could he act so cold? How could he not try and calm her, hug her?

He never did. He wouldn’t start now, she thought bitterly.

"Stop pushing me, you asshole!"
The voice came sharp, irritated, defiant—cutting through the low hum of fear that filled the dropship. Lily turned her head instinctively toward the sound, just in time to see one of the guards shoving a boy forward onto the upper level.

He had dark hair that fell messily over his forehead and a scowl fixed on his face like it belonged there. He moved with the kind of restlessness that drew attention without trying—like someone who was always either about to punch someone or make a joke at the worst possible moment.

There was a cut on his cheekbone, a purplish bruise near his jaw, and a sarcastic glint in his eyes that didn’t quite hide how tense he was. He didn’t look scared like the others—not exactly. If he was, he masked it with anger, with attitude, with a swagger that almost seemed rehearsed.

The guard shoved him again.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Murphy," the boy muttered, throwing himself into the seat next to her with a dramatic sigh. He didn’t look at her. Just buckled his belt and leaned back like this was all some twisted field trip.

As they pulled more and more kids inside the dropship, Lily watched, and it felt endless, looking at how they got pushed and pulled and forced into their seats. But when the guards finally left the level she was in, it felt too fast.

This is crazy, she thought, her legs moving restlessly. Her heart thumping in her chest—it felt almost ready to explode when she heard the metal pressurized door close with a loud noise.

Were they all going to die? A hundred years were so many to wait, that didn’t make any sense. And the only question she could endlessly repeat was: Why?

Why would the Council make such a decision? There must have been a reason—them and their precious rules. There must have been a reason, for sure.

The engine started, the roar echoing inside her chest, which trembled almost enough to scare her. And then she felt it—the dropship was separating from the Ark at once.

The ship grew quiet as they went. Lily could feel the movement, but there was no way for them to be able to look outside. That was a different kind of feeling than floating in space inside the Ark. They were traveling, and Lily had never experienced something like that. But then suddenly, she let out a yelp, along with everyone else, when the atmosphere made the dropship shake violently. Lily's hands were quick to clutch at the seatbelt, tight around her chest. Her eyes were closed tight, opening only when she heard a recorded voice.

Thelonious Jaha, the Chancellor of the Ark.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," he was saying calmly. Lily could not understand that behavior at all. "You’ve been given a second chance. And as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself."

Lily could not understand the rush. That didn’t make any sense at all.

"We have no idea what is waiting for you down there," he kept saying. "If the odds of survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

Lily shook her head, looking down. On the Ark, it didn’t matter why you committed the crime, or even if you really had. Once they thought you’d made a single mistake, you no longer served a purpose in society.

Is this the kind of mankind we decided to be? She asked herself, looking back at Jaha’s video.

"If, however, you do survive—"

"Your dad is a dick, Wells!" someone said, making Lily instantly look around. Why was Wells Jaha in that dropship? What could he have possibly done?

"—then those crimes would be forgiven," the video went on, "Your records wiped clean." Of that, Lily was not so sure. If there was something she had learned from her father, it was that the rules must be followed. And with the number of people who had been floated for whatever reason, she could hardly believe that just surviving would make the Council forgive them. Maybe Wells Jaha was safe, but the other ninety-nine...

"The dropsite has been chosen carefully," he kept saying. "Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain 300 people for up to two years—"

But shouting caught her attention. People were happily talking about a Spacewalker, and looking in the same direction, she saw a boy who had unbuckled his belt and was now floating in midair—until she couldn’t see him anymore.

"No..." she muttered, before she noticed a guy in front of her moving to unbuckle his own belt.

"Stop!" Lily shouted, but she was not the only one. Another female voice was speaking to someone else.

"Stay put if you wanna live!" she was saying. But they didn’t listen, and as Jaha kept talking, Lily could only follow the frame of the boy floating in front of them. Suddenly, the dropship shook violently again, making her body jerk, almost hurting her.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the cabin—the retrorockets had fired. The descent slowed, but the turbulence remained intense.

Lily’s hands clenched the straps across her chest, knuckles white. Around her, screams and cries filled the air as the dropship continued its rapid descent.

With a final, bone-rattling crash, the dropship slammed into the ground. The impact threw Lily forward, the restraints digging into her shoulders. Then, silence—broken only by the groans and sobs of the other passengers.

They had landed.

There was a moment of silence as they all took deep breaths to calm themselves after the landing. Lily felt her heart thumping in her chest. They were alive. Or at least, they were for now.

"Listen," someone said, "No machine hum."

That was true. It was silent. It was so strange not hearing an engine, a ship alive and working. They were truly on Earth, and that was the first sign of it. So that was the first sound they heard—silence.

Lily could not deny that it was quite relaxing, that foreign feeling. And she closed her eyes to savor it for a moment.

But then, people started to move, eager to go downstairs. And when Lily opened her eyes, she noticed the boy who had unbuckled his belt before, lying on the ground unmoving. The girl moved her hands to unbuckle her belt, making her way toward the guy, kneeling at his side.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, trying to shake his shoulder. But he didn't move. Then she tried to find his pulse, but there was none.

Oh god...

"Is he breathing?" the girl's voice from before said, making Lily turn to notice a blonde-haired girl kneeling beside her. They both looked at each other. Lily knew who she was: Clarke Griffin, the daughter of Abigail Griffin, the doctor of the Ark. They had never properly talked, but they had seen each other before. Lily wondered why she was in the skybox. Both her and Wells.

"No..." Lily answered with a shake of her head. Then Clarke turned to look to her left.

"Finn, is he breathing?" she asked a guy with long dark hair, looking down at another body. And from the sorrowful look he had, he was dead as well.

"The outer doors are on the lower level, let's go!" someone said excited. That made Lily and Clarke share a look.

"They are going to open it," Lily said, but the other girl was quick to get up.

"You cannot open the door!" she yelled, and Lily and the boy named Finn were ready to follow. She was right. They did not know what was going on out there—for all they knew, the radiation was already affecting them.

When she climbed down the iron ladder, Lily noticed an older guy wearing a guard uniform. Did they send a guard with them? But Jaha had said nothing about that. And sending just one for a hundred kids seemed a bit useless.

"If the air is toxic, we're dead anyway," he was saying to Clarke. But there was no reason to rush. They could wait a little longer. If they didn’t start to have any bad symptoms, maybe they could understand if it was safe or not.

"Bellamy?" a girl's voice came from behind them, and the guy seemed rather happy to hear it, as he looked at her making her way toward him.

"That's the girl hidden under the floor," someone shouted, and Lily’s eyes grew larger. Octavia Blake—she had heard the story. She was a second child, and by the rules of the Ark no one could have a second child. From what she knew, they had arrested the girl and floated the mother. So, if that was Octavia Blake, he could just be her brother.

"My God," he said once she was close enough, "Look how big you are." Octavia was quick to envelop him in a tight hug. They seemed to have missed each other very much. Lily could understand what it meant to miss her own family. She missed her mother's hugs.

"What the hell are you wearing? A guard's uniform?" Octavia asked as she pulled back from her brother. That made Lily frown. Was he not a guard?

He looked down at what he was wearing, before answering softly, "I borrowed it to get on the dropship," he said. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you."

As they hugged again, though, Clarke asked a good question, "Where's your wristband?" Lily had not noticed that he wasn’t wearing it like the rest of them.

"Do you mind?" Octavia asked, glaring at Clarke. "I haven't seen my brother in a year." After her statement, someone shouted that it was impossible for her to have a brother, only to have someone else shout who Octavia Blake was and why she was there with them. It must have been a sensitive point because Octavia was ready to lunge toward whoever had spoken, but Bellamy was quick to block her.

"Let's give them something else to remember you by," he spoke softly, making his sister turn.

"Like what?"

"Like being the first person on the ground in one hundred years." And then he just opened the door. Lily gasped, as the strongest light she had ever seen hit her eyes, forcing her to close them. But as darkness surrounded her, she felt something she had never experienced. It was a breeze—different from the oxygen that kept them alive on the Ark. This was lighter, cooler, and far more pleasant. Then she could hear some noises, like something rustling. Were those the trees? Real trees? That thought was enough to give her courage to open her eyes, and what she saw was beautiful.

Tall trees with green leaves above them, the ground—real ground—just a few feet from them. And the sky, that was so beautiful, clear and blue, with the sun glowing and its heat hitting her skin, giving a warm feeling in contrast with the cool breeze that was moving her blonde hair.

That was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No photo, or painting, or story could match it. For as many times as she had dreamt of Earth, it had never been like the real one.

"We're back, bitches!" Octavia shouted, and for the first time that day, Lily could not help but let out a light, happy laugh, as everyone started to run out of the dropship.

Chapter Text

Lily felt her cheeks hurting from how much she was smiling, but she couldn’t stop herself. Earth was truly beautiful, she loved the fresh air, the smell of grass and trees, and the sun. She loved how it heated her skin.
She remembered how she used to look at the sun from the Ark, but it was only there, a giant ball of fire. But even if up there they were close, it felt so cold. But it was even more magical seeing it from the ground.
Everyone around her was cheering, running, taking deep breaths of fresh air; she had never seen such happiness on the ground. And for a moment Lily had completely forgotten about the danger of radiation.
That thought reminded her about the wristband around her wrist. When Marcus had put it on her, she remembered it stung. So those needles probably checked their vitals. But there was no screen for them to see. Was it supposed to be shown on the Ark?
Yet again the same question that she had asked herself since she had been dragged out of her skybox came back again.
“Why did they send us here?” she muttered.
“I’m so glad they did,” a voice made her turn to see a boy with big goggles on the top of his head and a goofy smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Jasper.”
“Lily,” she answered with a little smile.
Jasper smiled again, “I honestly didn’t think that it would have looked like this.”
“Yeah, me too,” she admitted, looking around, “I thought the radiation would have killed us immediately.”
“Whoa!” he exclaimed with a chuckle, “Dark much.”
“Sorry,” she answered, “I didn’t want to tear down your enthusiasm.”
Jasper shook his head, raising his hands, “No worries,” he said, “You’re not the only serious one.” He then pointed at her back, making her turn to see Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha looking at something and talking pensively with each other.
“What is going on?” Lily asked with a little frown.
“Don’t know,” he answered, “Let’s find out, shall we?” He didn’t wait for her answer as he made his way towards the two, but she could not help but let out a little chuckle. That guy was strange, but he seemed like a really fun guy.
Lily was about to follow him, when she saw Wells turning around and pushing Jasper away roughly.
“Jasper,” she called, getting closer, just before another voice could be heard.
“Hey, hey, hey, hands off him. He’s with us.” When Lily turned, she noticed the guy that had been sitting next to her during the landing. He was not alone, but with many other guys coming closer, glaring at Wells. Lily was not sure if Jasper was one of them, but she knew that many on the Ark hated the Chancellor, and the Council, so Wells just being a Jaha was a target to many criminals.
“Relax,” Wells said, turning to the guy named Murphy, “We were just trying to figure out where we are.” Lily frowned at his words, what did it mean?
“We’re on the ground. Is that not good enough for you?” The guy named Bellamy and his sister walked closer.
“We need to find Mount Weather,” Wells exclaimed, getting Lily all the more confused. They were supposed to land on Mount Weather. Did something go wrong?
“You heard my father’s message. That has to be our first priority,” Wells insisted, making his way towards Bellamy, and all of them followed to keep listening to the conversation. Lily was standing next to Jasper, and in front of them there were Clarke and Wells giving their attention to Bellamy.
“Screw your father,” Octavia Blake shouted from next to her brother, “What? You think you’re in charge here, you and your little princess?” She gestured towards Clarke, who took a frustrated breath before speaking.
“Do you think we care who’s in charge?” she asked, before looking at each one of them. “We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we’ll get and the harder this’ll be. How long do you think we’ll last without those supplies? We’re looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now.”
They did indeed drop them in the wrong place. Lily thought back to Marcus, back on the Ark. He always thought that they had everything under control, but they made them land so far from where they could have actual supplies.
“I got a better idea,” Bellamy said with a strong voice, “You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change.”
The others seemed to agree with this idea. Lily was not surprised, but she was sure Clarke and Wells weren’t either. The difference between who was privileged and who wasn’t was very evident to everyone on the Ark, but that didn’t mean that the privileged didn’t suffer the same rules. No one was safe on the Ark.
“You’re not listening, we all have to go,” Wells insisted, looking at Bellamy, but he didn’t seem to change his mind.
Someone passed next to Lily, and in an instant Wells got pushed. “Look at this, everybody!” Only now she noticed that it had been Murphy the one who pushed Wells.
“The Chancellor of Earth,” Murphy mocked him, and those words seemed to amuse many people around them, like Bellamy and Octavia. That wasn’t looking good.
“Think that’s funny?” Wells asked, walking up to Murphy, who only chuckled before, in a swift move, he was able to make Wells fall on the floor. Lily let out a gasp, as she heard Clarke calling for her friend while other boys blocked her so that she couldn’t help him.
“No,” Murphy answered as he observed Wells still on the ground, “But that was.” The people around him kept screaming for Murphy to attack Wells, and many were finding that amusing. Lily observed, worried, as Wells pulled himself up, ready to fight against Murphy.
That was actually terrifying, they had just landed and they were already fighting against each other for what they were on the Ark. Wells seemed to have hurt his ankle in his fall, but he was ready to try and defend himself. But luckily, nothing happened, because from the top of the dropship jumped the guy that Lily had seen before in the dropship. And he landed in between Wells and Murphy.
“Kid’s got one leg,” he said, “How about you wait until it is a fair fight.”
That seemed enough to convince Murphy to back away from there, and soon everyone was walking away from the scene, some of them clearly upset to not have seen the son of the Chancellor fistfighting. Lily took a breath, but then she decided to walk towards the boy, who was now sitting down with Clarke checking on his ankle.
“Are you alright?” she asked softly, looking up at Wells.
“It hurts when I step on it,” but then he frowned a little as he looked down at her.
“Aren’t you—”
“Lily Hale,” she was quick to say, forcing a little smile, before kneeling next to Clarke. “Is there something I can do?” she asked.
“You worked in the medic field?” Clarke said with curiosity.
Lily nodded, “A medical technician more than anything.”
“You worked with medicines,” Clarke added, looking at Lily.
“Yes,” she answered, “But I can help with the basics too.” Clarke showed her a little smile, just before Finn’s voice made them turn as he walked closer.
“So, Mount Weather. When do we leave?” he asked with a smug expression on his face.
“Right now,” Clarke answered firmly, standing up. “We’ll be back tomorrow with food.”
“How are the two of you gonna carry enough food for a hundred?” Wells asked. He didn’t seem convinced at all of that plan, but Finn was quick to turn and grabbed Jasper and another boy, telling Clarke that they now were four.
“Sounds like a party,” a cheerful voice made them look to the side to see Octavia Blake, now strangely happy to be around the privileged, “Make it five,” Lily noticed how her eyes stopped to glance at Finn. But behind her, Bellamy followed by, taking his sister by the arm.
“Hey,” he said sternly, “What the hell are you doing?” Octavia only answered him that she wanted to go for a walk. Her brother didn’t seem happy with her decision; he seemed to be quite overprotective of her.
“Hey!” Clarke exclaimed, shooting her hand forward to grab Finn’s wrist. His wristband had a black mark on the opening. “Did you try to take it off?” she kept saying.
“Yeah, so?” Finn asked with a shrug of his shoulders.
“So this wristband transmits your vital signs to the Ark.” Clarke was ready to answer, “Take it off, and they’ll think you’re dead.” Lily found herself looking down at her wristband. She wondered if Marcus was looking at her vitals, but then she shook her head. He probably was, like he was looking at all the others’.
“Should I care?” Finn said, but Clarke was quick to answer.
“Well, I don’t know. Do you want the people you love to think you’re dead?” she challenged him. “Do you want them to follow you down here in two months? Because they won’t if they think we’re dying.”
We are truly lab rats, Lily thought, briefly looking up at the sky, as if she could spot the Ark from there. But why? Why now? What was the rush?
She kept asking herself those questions, but she had not found an answer yet. It was such a big shot in the dark—a hundred years were many to wait. Did the Council get bored of ruling on the Ark? Did they want the ground as well?
“Now let’s go,” Clarke said, before turning to Lily, “You coming?”
Lily looked at Wells for a moment, “I think it’s better not to leave him completely alone,” she answered, “Two is better than one.”
Clarke gave a small nod, not pushing the matter.
“Suit yourself,” she said simply, then turned to join the others without another word.
Lily watched the group go for a moment, then knelt down in front of Wells. He hadn’t said anything, but she could tell the pain was still there, dull and persistent. But the ankle was not the only thing that was bothering him.
“You didn’t have to stay,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.
“I know,” she answered, giving a brief glance to Bellamy still standing next to them, looking in the direction where his sister had disappeared. “But I wanted to.”
Many people were hating on Wells, and Bellamy seemed to start getting popularity among the hundred, and he too was not happy to have a Jaha among them.
Lily gently pushed up the fabric around his ankle and examined it.
“It’s a bit swollen,” she said, more to herself than to him. “You should keep it elevated and avoid putting weight on it. For now, at least.”

Chapter Text

A couple of hours had already passed since Clarke and her group had left, but for now, no one seemed to care whether they were back or not. They were all too excited to be on the ground. But twenty-four hours were a long time, and they couldn’t just stay put—they needed to eat, or at least drink.
That’s why Lily and Wells had decided to look for water nearby—maybe a river or a little stream. They needed to find the basics, or the more aggressive people in the group would become even more aggressive as time went by.
Lily was walking around by herself, not getting too far from the dropship, her eyes scanning the ground for signs of moisture or moss. The sound of footsteps and laughter made her glance up—and she caught sight of Murphy and his group noticing her. They exchanged looks, smirks spreading across their faces, before making their way toward her.
She instinctively folded her arms, bracing herself for what was coming.
“And where is our nurse going?” Murphy called out, sauntering toward her with that same half-smile he always wore—like everything was a joke, especially people. “Bellamy doesn’t want us spreading out.”
Lily threw a quick glance toward where Bellamy stood near the dropship, but he was too far to hear.
“Is he our leader now?” she asked dryly. “Are you his guard now?”
Murphy tilted his head slightly, observing her closely for a moment. “Where are you going, sweetie?” he asked, voice laced with mockery. “You’re so eager to make friends with the privileged.”
“I don’t like to see us fight with each other when it’s not needed,” she answered after taking a breath, her eyes flicking toward Wells, walking not far away.
“He’s a Jaha,” Murphy muttered with disdain, like that name alone was a crime.
“He’s here. And right now, he’s searching for water—for all of us,” she said, voice steady. “I think you can give him a break.”
She turned slightly, about to leave, when a hand firmly grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Who are you, sweetie?” Murphy asked, studying her face with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “Are you part of the privileged too?”
She glared at him. “Why do you care so much about this?” she asked, finding his obsession with who was what on the Ark quite exhausting.
“Why aren’t you answering?” he said, the smirk never leaving his face, while the boys behind him chuckled among themselves.
“I don’t like to be bothered,” she answered, giving a pointed look to the hand holding her arm before raising her eyes back to his—cold and sharp. “Or who bothers me.”
Murphy seemed amused by her words, and after observing her for another beat, he finally let her go. As soon as she was free, Lily took a step back, keeping her eyes locked on him.
“What’s your name?” he asked curiously.
Lily took a breath but decided to answer. “Lily Hale,” she said. “Now can I go look for water?”
“Don’t let me stop you, Lily.” Murphy gestured for her to go. “See you around,” he said as she turned to walk away.
That guy really needed to calm down. They weren’t on the Ark anymore, and if they wanted to finally live in peace, they had to stop dividing themselves based on who they used to be. That kind of aggression would only recreate the same toxic environment they had escaped.
The Ark had become an awful place to live because of its strict rules and the belief that anyone no longer useful to society was just wasting oxygen. But now they had plenty of it. They had the chance to make something good out of this new home—a safe one. Lily truly believed that people who had suffered under that system could be the ones to build a better life.
At least… until the people of the Ark followed them down.
She couldn’t imagine her father giving up control that easily. Not Marcus Kane. The second he set foot on Earth, he’d try to enforce his precious rules again. But that didn’t mean they had to follow the same path. They could be different from the adults so many of them loathed. Like Wells’s father.
Speaking of Wells, Lily was still curious about how the Chancellor’s son had ended up among the hundred, but she hadn’t asked. The way he’d looked at her earlier, as if he recognized her, made her uneasy. She didn’t want anyone to know she was the girl Councilor Kane had helped secure a job for. Not now, when everyone was trying to decide who had been “privileged” and who had been labeled a criminal.
Her search for water hadn’t helped. The forest where they’d landed was thick with trees and grass, but no stream in sight. If they wanted to find clean water, they would have to go deeper—but Lily wasn’t about to do that alone and unarmed. She didn’t know this place. It was too easy to get lost, or worse.
They’d have to wait for Clarke and the others to return. She just hoped no one would freak out about going a night without food or water.
As she turned back toward the dropship, something caught her eye—a flicker of deep purple among the green. She stepped closer, brushing away some tall blades of grass, and found it: a black raspberry bush, low and thick, its leaves broad and jagged, its branches heavy with ripe, dusky berries.
She crouched beside it, inspecting the fruit more closely. Not just one bush—there were several of them, scattered over the shaded patch of forest floor. The berries were firm and plump, dark but not black, with the distinct matte sheen she remembered from the lab. Rubus occidentalis. Edible. Safe. And more than that, she remembered using its leaves and fruit extracts in mild anti-inflammatory treatments on the Ark.
Lily reached out, plucked one, and popped it into her mouth. Sweet. Tart. It burst on her tongue like the first real thing she’d tasted in years.
But as she moved to grab another, her gaze landed on a neighboring plant—its stalk thinner, its berries smaller and glossier, almost red-black. She leaned closer. Solanum dulcamara. Bittersweet nightshade. It grew in similar climates, often near brambles and hedges. It looked inviting to someone who didn’t know better—but it was toxic.
“Not you,” she muttered under her breath.
Her fingers hovered over the raspberries again, tempted to gather them right then and there. But she knew there were too many. And it wouldn’t make sense to take the risk of going back and forth alone, unarmed.
She stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees. “Alright,” she whispered. “This is something.”
With one last glance at the clustered bushes, Lily turned on her heel and began walking back toward the dropship. The others might not trust her—or listen—but food was food. And maybe, just maybe, it would help shift something in this messy, distrustful group.
Maybe if she brought them something good, they’d stop tearing each other apart—at least for a little while.
“I found some food in the woods,” she said brightly as she returned to camp to talk to Wells. But as she walked closer, she noticed that something in his expression was oddly pensive, and that made her frown.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, watching him.
He nodded quickly. “Yeah,” he said, but it sounded just a little too forced. She didn’t push.
“What did you find?” he added, eager to shift focus.
Lily reached into her pocket and pulled out the raspberries she had picked. Wells’s eyes lit up, taking one gently in his hand, studying it.
“Is it edible?” he asked.
“It is,” she replied confidently. “It’s not much, but at least we’ll have something to eat.”
“How do we have it?” Bellamy’s voice made them both turn. He was walking closer, eyeing the fruit in Wells’s hand with mild interest—but more suspicion.
“I found them,” she said immediately, standing a little straighter. Everyone seemed too eager to start fights with the Chancellor’s son. Her arms crossed over her chest as she faced Bellamy directly, tilting her chin slightly.
“There are some bushes not far from here,” she continued, gesturing back toward the forest, “but we’ll need a couple more people. It’s too much to carry alone.”
Bellamy was watching her now—closely. Calculating. Measuring. And Lily found herself looking at him with the same curiosity. Who was he? Why was he dressed as a guard? And why didn’t he wear a wristband? Wells was. But Bellamy seemed to have entered the dropship, and Lily could not understand how someone that seemed to hate the privileged as much as Murphy did, could manage to do something like that without some kind of help. Lily thought back to her father; Marcus Kane was in charge of the safety of the people of the Ark, and there was nothing he didn’t check. How could Bellamy get on the dropship with them?
“Atom,” Bellamy called as he kept observing her. It didn’t take long for a guy with black hair and blue eyes to come forward, waiting for Bellamy’s command.
“Take two other people with you and follow her to get the food she found.”
Atom looked at her, eyes widening. “You found food?”
Lily nodded. “Not far from here,” she said. “But Wells and I need only two more people.”
Bellamy’s lips turned up into a little smirk. “Wells is staying here, aren’t you?” he said, stepping closer to him, a false friendly smile on his face.
Wells glared at him as he walked toward where Lily was standing. “You seemed quite eager to see me working,” he said. “Well, I’m working.”
Bellamy stood silent as he observed Wells. He was suspicious, and he seemed angry.
“You can come too if you want,” Lily said, taking a step forward.
Bellamy seemed surprised by her words, and for a moment she genuinely thought she had done something he was really not expecting. But then his tough act came back, and with a shake of his head he answered,
“Feel free to do whatever you want,” he said, as another guy went to stand next to Atom.
Lily took a breath before leading the small group into the forest. But as she looked back, she noticed Bellamy watching them and being joined by Murphy and the other guys. They started to talk to each other.
“Bellamy seems eager to lead,” Lily said as they walked.
“He seems to know what he’s doing,” Atom answered, pushing the tall grass so that he wouldn’t fall.
“No one knows what we’re doing,” Lily said in a low tone.
She had no idea what time they had landed on Earth, or how much time had passed, but the sun was getting closer to sunset and Lily didn’t really know how to feel about their first night on Earth. The more the sun went down, the more the woods became scary and dark.
“We have to go back,” she said as the other three kept picking raspberries.
“Yeah,” Wells said, looking around. “It’s not safe to stay out here in the dark.”
The four of them had managed to pick many raspberries. It still wasn’t enough for ninety-five people, but at least they could eat something.
When they returned, though, they noticed that everyone was gathered around a huge fire that had been set. They were all whooping and shouting.
“What is going on?” Lily asked, sharing a look with Wells, who only shook his head before making his way through the crowd.
What were they shouting about? Lily was quick to move behind Wells, following his movements until they reached the center, where they saw a girl kneeling on the ground while Murphy was opening her wristband. They all shouted with excitement when Murphy showed the metal band in his hand before throwing it into the fire.
“Who’s next?” Lily turned with a confused expression. Next? Were they lining up to take off their wristbands? Who came up with that idea?
Lily felt silly even just for having asked herself that, as her eyes landed on Bellamy, who was looking proudly at the next person getting ready to take off their band.
“What the hell are you doing?” Wells asked, stepping closer to Bellamy, who stopped another guy from charging at Wells.
“We’re liberating ourselves,” Bellamy said in a calm tone. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re trying to get us killed!” Wells exclaimed firmly, and Lily observed Bellamy taking a breath as Wells kept speaking.
“The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we’ve got. Take them off, and the Ark will think we are dying. That’s not safe for them to follow.”
Lily instinctively touched her metal band at that thought—but immediately pushed it away.
If he cared, he wouldn’t have sent me to the ground, she thought, trying to hide from herself the spark of sadness.
“That’s the point, Chancellor,” Bellamy said, flashing Wells a smirk. “We can take care of ourselves, can’t we?”
The last part he shouted to the people around them, who once again started shouting and whooping, clearly agreeing with him.
They hated the Ark and its rules. Lily couldn’t deny that she hated it too, and she could understand how sweet it felt, the prospect of doing what they thought was right and just. But the problem was this: were they all on the same page? To build something, they had to agree on different points of view—or at least find a middle ground. But could Bellamy and Wells ever do that?
“Those aren’t just our friends and our parents up there,” Wells kept saying, making Lily look up at him. “There are our farmers, our doctors, our engineers. I don’t care what he tells you. We won’t survive here on our own.”
Lily looked down, once again her eyes fixed on her wristband. They were all so young, and many of them had been locked in the skyboxes for more than a year. Did they actually know how to start a new society? It would’ve been beautiful to think that they were ready to do so, but maybe Wells was right—alone, it would be difficult. But at the same time, Lily could see where Bellamy was coming from, and the idea of continuing to live as they had before was just as frightening.
Lily felt truly stuck. She didn’t know what to think, or what she wanted.
“And besides, if it’s really safe,” Wells said, turning to look at Bellamy again. He didn’t seem to like what Wells was saying, and Lily hoped no one would attack anyone again.
“How could you not want the rest of our people to come down?”
Bellamy didn’t hesitate with his answer. “My people are already down,” he said. “Those people locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your father did that.” He stared at Wells.
Those words really hurt, and Lily looked down, feeling almost ashamed. For who her father was. Every time she heard the story of someone being floated, Lily couldn’t help but feel guilt, as if she were the one who had pushed the button. She knew she wasn’t, but she also knew that her father believed deeply in those laws—and she knew how many people on the Ark had been hurt by the same rules that were supposed to protect them.
Lily looked at Bellamy. She couldn’t even imagine how bad it must have been for him—his sister hidden under the floor for years, and then, in just one day, left alone. His sister in the skybox, his mother dead. No wonder he was so angry at the Ark.
“My father didn’t write the law,” Wells answered, but Bellamy cut him off.
“No, he enforced them. But not anymore. Not here.”
Lily bit her lip, looking down. That wasn’t what laws were meant to do. How did it happen? Why did humans always find a way to hurt each other—even when they were part of the same community?
“Here there are no laws,” Bellamy’s words made her raise her gaze to look at him. Her heart was hammering in her chest when people shouted in agreement. “Here we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want.”
“This is not the answer, Bellamy,” she said, taking a small step forward. Her movement made Bellamy take his eyes off Wells for the first time.
“You don’t have to like it,” he said, shaking his head before looking back at Wells. “And neither do you, Wells. You both can try to stop it, change it, kill me.”
Lily shook her head at the thought. This could really become too dangerous.
“You know why?” Bellamy said, turning toward her. When their eyes met, he flashed her a smirk and then glanced back toward Wells. “Whatever the hell we want.”
And as he spoke, the crowd began to repeat the same phrase:
Whatever the hell we want.
They all agreed. He had managed to convince all of them. And that belief was too dangerous. They weren’t five people; they were a hundred, with different characters, beliefs, and temperaments. If no one drew the line, something bad was bound to happen.
A loud crashing sound made them all look up to the sky. Lily froze for a moment, before recognizing what the sound was. And when a drop of water fell on her cheek, she realized: that sound was thunder, and they were witnessing rain for the first time.
A drop landed on Lily’s cheek, cold and electric, and her breath caught in her throat. Then another hit her collarbone, then her arms, her eyelashes. Within seconds, the sky opened.
It was soft at first—like fingertips tapping her skin—then heavier, soaking through her clothes, making her hair cling to her face. It wasn’t harsh like the sterile showers on the Ark; this was wild and real. It smelled of soil and sky and something old, something free.
Lily’s lips turned up into a smile at the feeling. It was truly different. It really felt like being alive for the first time.
“We need to collect this,” Wells’s voice made her look at him, suddenly remembering that they had yet to organize for their first night on Earth. And reality crushed her happiness a little, but she knew they had to do it.
“Whatever the hell you want,” was all Bellamy answered. He wouldn’t help them.
Wells took a deep breath before turning to walk away. Lily pushed her blond hair back, looking at Bellamy. They stared at each other for a moment, and Lily would be lying if she said she didn’t think about staying back just to enjoy the rain—to do whatever the hell she wanted.
But she couldn’t.
So, with one last look, Lily turned her back and followed Wells where he had disappeared.

Chapter Text

The first night on Earth could have been a lot better for Lily.
After the rain, the sky had opened up, revealing the stars that shone differently compared to how they looked from the Ark—but no less beautifully.
The damp soil had been strangely comfortable, and the smell of the wet wood had lulled her to sleep, but at some point during the night, Lily had woken up to notice that Wells was no longer lying next to her.
That had been immediately alarming. It was strange that he had gotten up to take a walk in the middle of the night. Wells had told her he was worried about Clarke, so it was possible he couldn’t fall asleep—but walking around in the dark?
I don’t like this, she thought, looking around. Lily slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to spot any movement in the dark. But there was no use. She couldn’t see anyone. Biting her lip, she stood up, feeling the cloth of her trousers damp from where she had been lying.
“Wells?” she called in a whisper, peering ahead. Lily didn’t really know what to do; she wanted to make sure Wells was alright, but it would be stupid to walk into the forest alone, in the dark. She would surely get lost.
She was still debating what to do when the sound of footsteps made her let out a relieved breath. Wells was surely coming back. But her smile faded when she noticed Bellamy walking out of the woods. He was alone, his shirt damp from the rain, and something about the way he moved made her spine stiffen. As he stepped into the clearing where they were all sleeping, he didn’t miss her standing figure.
“Where’s Wells?” she asked, taking a step toward Bellamy, who let out a little chuckle.
“Got a crush on the Chancellor?” he mocked, but Lily ignored him, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
“He’s not here and you just got back,” she said firmly, and even though it was dark, she could feel his stare on her. “So? Where is he?”
Bellamy stood silent for a moment before taking a step toward her. Lily stood her ground as her heart hammered in her chest. Bellamy was unpredictable—she still had many questions about him, and she really didn’t know what to expect from his reactions.
“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” he asked. She could see a smirk, but she wasn’t sure he was enjoying this. “I wouldn’t be if I were you.”
That made her frown as he came closer.
“Are you threatening me?” she asked, but he shook his head once, confusing her even more.
“Just a warning,” he answered. “In your position, I wouldn’t want to draw attention to myself.”
“My position?” She looked up at him, but he didn’t answer. Bellamy paused, just for a second. Then smirked and walked past her, leaving her alone with her pounding heart.
“What position?” she asked again, but he only walked away.
He cannot know, she thought, her heart beating like crazy inside her chest. Nobody knows.
Marcus would have never told anyone about her—it wasn’t like him.
So how could Bellamy know anything about her?
Lily stood there in silence, her back lying against the trunk of the tree she had been sleeping under earlier. She could only think about what Bellamy was implying. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was Councilor Marcus Kane’s daughter; she had seen how they had targeted Wells just for being a Jaha, and she knew that being considered one of the privileged now was not something that would have helped her—if anything, it was the exact opposite. But the question was still stuck in her head. Nobody knew who her father was. Nobody.
Her racing thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she heard laughter coming from the woods, a few meters away from where she was. And just a few moments later, she spotted the group of guys who usually followed Bellamy coming out of the trees.
“That was easy,” she heard Murphy say as he walked towards the dropship, letting out another laugh. She had to look more closely to see that he was holding something in his hand, but it was too dark to understand what it was. Then she felt her anxiety rise when she saw those guys go talk to Bellamy. She was sure that something had happened to Wells.
What did they do? she asked herself, feeling even more afraid for Wells. She wanted to go ask for some kind of explanation, but as she was about to move, Bellamy’s warning echoed in her head.
In your position, I wouldn’t want to draw attention to myself.
She hated that those words had that effect on her, especially because Wells could really need her help. Lily didn’t want to leave him alone, but she didn’t want any attention on her either. Was she afraid? Was she selfish?
But Wells could need my help, she thought, finally deciding that she would ask something—either to Bellamy, or Murphy, or someone from the group. But just as she was about to take a step forward, a rustling noise made her turn toward the woods behind her. A relieved breath escaped her lips when she saw Wells walking out of the shadows.
“Oh my God,” Lily exclaimed, hurrying toward him. He looked exhausted and worried, so she placed a hand on his forearm. “Wells, what happened?” she asked, glancing behind her toward the dropship.
“Bellamy ambushed me,” he said, anger in his eyes.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“He wanted to take my wristband off,” Wells went on, showing her his wrist, now free from the iron band. Lily frowned, glancing back once again to see Bellamy entering the dropship. “He said he needs the Ark to think I’m dead.”
Lily was confused. She knew Bellamy hated the Ark, and he had already convinced many of them to take off their wristbands—so why did he need Wells to do the same? What was driving Bellamy to the point of ambushing him?
“He’s hiding something,” Wells said, and Lily could only agree.
After what had happened, Lily hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of the night. Her mind kept searching for answers about Bellamy—how he had managed to get on the ship, why he wanted so badly to prevent the Ark from coming down. There was more to the story, Lily was sure of it, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with a single explanation that made sense.
And with the same questions the sun rose and one by one the hundred woke up all around her. Lily sat near the base of the same tree where she had spent the night, arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were fixed on the forest’s edge, where Wells had disappeared again at dawn without saying much—just a glance, and muttering “I need to do something.”
She didn’t follow him. Something in his voice had told her he needed space.
So she decided to look around the camp and see if there were any other bushes with something edible. Lily walked quietly, watching her steps and studying the plants she passed. But nothing looked safe to eat.
Then, suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. When she looked up, she recognized Wells. He was walking slowly, shoulders heavy, hands caked with dirt. He held some clothes in his fingers.
Lily stepped forward. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Wells glanced down at the clothes in his hands and gave a slight nod. There was sadness in his eyes, so Lily decided not to push him to talk.
“I’m a bit hungry,” she said with a small, encouraging smile. “Wanna see if there are some raspberries left?”
“Alright,” Wells replied quietly, following Lily through camp. Around them, people were already laughing, talking, kissing—as if the night before had never happened.
Lily and Wells walked side by side toward the place where they had found raspberries the night before. To get there, they had to pass by the dropship. As they did, Atom stepped up to Wells.
“Hey,” he said, voice sharp enough to make Lily glance between them. “Where’d you get the clothes?”
“Buried the two kids who died during the landing,” Wells answered, almost rolling his eyes. It seemed like he had to justify everything to everyone.
“Smart. You know, I’ll take it from here. There’s always a market for—” Atom began, reaching out to grab the clothes, but Wells quickly pulled them back.
“We share based on need,” Wells said firmly. “Just like back home.”
Lily watched the two, noticing how quick Wells was to get defensive. She was about to step in when Bellamy emerged from the dropship.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and there was a girl behind him.
“You still don’t get it, do you, Chancellor?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery—enough to make Lily roll her eyes internally—just before he leaned in to kiss the girl behind him. “This is home now. Your father’s rules no longer apply.”
Then he turned and strode up to Wells, snatching one of the shirts from his arms.
Wells didn’t hesitate. He was ready to fight back.
“Wells, no,” Lily said, trying to stop him as Atom moved to block him.
“Oh no, no, Atom. Hold up,” Bellamy said, stepping closer with a smirk. Then, to Wells, “You want it back? Take it.”
The two glared at each other, tension crackling between them, just before Wells threw the clothes on the ground behind him. Lily let out a breath and stepped in between the two of them as some people ran to the clothes.
“We are not going to make it if we keep up like this,” she said, looking at Wells first and then at Bellamy.
His eyes flicked to Lily for a moment. His smirk faded just slightly.
“We can’t keep fighting with each other for every single thing.”
“That’s what he wants,” Wells said. “Chaos. Don’t you?”
Bellamy looked around for a moment, then flashed another smirk. “What’s wrong with a little chaos?”
“That you can’t control it,” Lily said—just before a loud scream pierced the air.
Bellamy’s face fell as he quickly pulled on a shirt and turned toward the direction of the scream. Wells and Lily shared a worried look as they followed his steps. They weren’t the only ones; the whole camp was gathering around where the screams were coming from.
Lily gasped when she saw Murphy pinning down a girl, her face inches from the fire. They were forcing people to take off their wristbands like they had done with Wells the night before.
“Bellamy, check it out,” Murphy said with a smirk as soon as he saw him. “We want the Ark to think the ground is killing us, right? Figure it’ll look better if we suffer a little first.”
“Oh my God,” Lily whispered, just before Wells rushed forward and shoved Murphy off the girl.
Is that what he wants? she thought, looking up at Bellamy. He wanted them to turn on each other? What was the point?
“You can stop this,” Wells said to Bellamy.
“Stop this?” he answered, unbothered as always. “I’m just getting started.”
“Why are you doing this?” Lily asked, making him look down at her. But before he could respond, the sound of a punch made her whip her head around—Murphy had struck Wells in the face, then in the stomach.
“Wells!” Lily cried, trying to run forward, but two arms blocked her.
“Bellamy, let me go!” she protested, struggling against his grip. She kept trying to break free, turning to see what was happening.
Wells was fighting back, punching Murphy in the face and knocking him to the ground. The crowd shouted around them, some cheering, some just watching. Lily kept fighting Bellamy’s hold, panic rising in her chest.
She gasped when she saw Murphy get up and tackle Wells, pinning him and swinging his fist.
“Stop it!” Lily was the only one screaming. “Bellamy, let me go!”
Meanwhile, Wells managed to flip Murphy over and pin him down instead, landing another punch that finally stopped him.
Bellamy let her go at last, and Lily shoved him back with both hands, making him chuckle.
“This is madness!” she exclaimed, turning to Wells.
“Don’t you see you can’t control it?” Wells said to Bellamy, stepping toward him.
But Murphy’s movement caught Lily’s attention. Blood was running down his face, and his eyes were wild. What truly scared her, though, was the makeshift dagger in his hand.
“You’re dead,” he hissed, charging at Wells.
“Murphy, no!” Lily yelled—but surprisingly, it was Bellamy who stepped in, grabbing Murphy before he could strike.
Lily let out a shaky breath. Things were spiraling too quickly—it was only the second day, and they were already trying to kill each other.
But then she saw something that chilled her more than Murphy’s rage: Bellamy wasn’t stopping the fight. He was giving Wells a weapon.
“Fair fight,” he said, tossing the knife at Wells’ feet. Lily was really scared. That had become too dangerous to handle—one of them could really die, and for what? Just because they didn’t like each other.
“You can’t allow this,” she said, walking up to Bellamy as she saw Wells pick up the knife. Bellamy didn’t answer; he just looked down at her. “They are going to kill each other. You know they will!” she begged him as she turned to Murphy and Wells, both with their knives in hand, circling each other, ready to attack. They were serious, they really were.
Maybe Marcus was right, she thought, hearing the loud sound of her own heartbeat inside her chest. Maybe the only way they could survive was through strict rules. But at the same time, it was because of those strict rules that all of this was happening.
“This is for my father!” Murphy said as he cut Wells on the arm. Lily gasped as she saw Wells dodging Murphy’s attack, pushing him to make him turn, grab him, and put a knife to Murphy’s neck.
“Wells, no!” Lily said, taking a step forward just before another voice spoke.
“Drop it!” Clarke was the one who had spoken and looked at the scene with wide eyes, as she came forward with Finn close behind. “Let him go!” she demanded, walking toward Wells. But as soon as he let Murphy go, he was ready to charge back, but this time Bellamy stopped him for good. He was not having fun anymore, since he had noticed his sister limping toward them, with an arm around Jasper’s friend. Then he frowned when he didn’t notice Jasper walking in the clear with the others.
“Octavia, are you alright?” Bellamy asked his sister, who nodded with a little gasp of pain. “Where’s the food?” he then asked with a frown.
Where’s Jasper? Lily thought, suddenly unable to let words leave her mouth. Something went wrong, and she felt her breath getting caught in her throat. And Clarke’s expression was not making anything better.
“We didn’t make it to Mount Weather,” Finn was the one who answered, sitting himself down on a rock. Lily crossed her arms over her chest when she noticed Murphy stopping next to her.
“What the hell happened out there?” Bellamy demanded, and Clarke’s answer only made Lily feel the panic even more.
“We were attacked,” she said, making all the people in the crowd gasp and whisper to each other.
“Attacked?” Wells asked, voice filled with worry. “By what?” Clarke looked up at him; she was scared. It was clear she was.
And since Clarke wasn’t able to answer, it was Finn who spoke. “Not what. Who.” Everyone gasped.
“This cannot be,” Lily said with wide eyes.
Finn looked up toward her. “Turns out, when the last man from the ground died on the Ark, he wasn’t the last Grounder.”
That was not possible. The radiation should have killed everybody. The Ark was already in space, that’s how they were alive until now. But on Earth everyone was supposed to be dead.
Like we should have been, she remembered. They weren’t supposed to survive according to what they had been studying. They should have waited another hundred years for them to be safe. But they were still alive. So what if the radiation was survivable from the start? That would be the only explanation for why there were still people alive on Earth.
“Everything we thought we knew about the ground was wrong,” Clarke said to everyone. “There are people here, survivors.” Then she took a breath. “The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won’t kill us.”
“Yeah, the bad news is the Grounders will,” Finn said after her.
That was too dangerous. They knew nothing of Earth, they knew nothing of those people. How could they defend themselves against someone they didn't even know?
“Where’s the kid with the goggles?” Wells asked. And Lily bit her lips as she waited for an answer. How did they know that there were people, and the fact that Jasper was not with them was linked. Lily trembled at the thought. What had happened to Jasper?
“Jasper was hit,” Clarke answered.
“Hit?” Lily said, “Hit by what?” Clarke turned towards her.
“A spear,” she explained, as Lily let out a shaky breath. “They took him.” That made her frown, he was not dead then? But how would she know that? A spear… it was almost impossible for him to survive without surgery.
“Where’s your wristband?” Clarke had noticed that Wells wasn’t wearing the iron band anymore, and her eyes were wide as she observed his wrist.
“Ask him,” Wells said as he glared at Bellamy, who stood silent next to his sister. Clarke looked angry too, knowing what had been going on.
“How many?” she asked. But it was Murphy the one who answered.
“Twenty-four and counting,” he said from next to Lily. She looked at him—he seemed proud of himself for what they were doing.
“You idiots,” Clarke's reaction made Lily frown, she knew they weren’t supposed to take those bracelets off, but she was angry, very angry and worried. What was going on?
“Life support on the Ark is failing,” at her words Lily felt her blood run cold.
“What?” she asked, touching her wristband, before she could even think about it.
“That’s why they brought us down here,” Clarke kept explaining. “They need to know that the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there.”
That made sense, it finally made sense. That was why the rush, that was the reason why they had sent them there so abruptly. They were dying.
Marcus…
“If you take off your wristbands, you are not just killing them,” Clarke said again, “You are killing us!”
People around them started to whisper at each other, now the prospect of doing whatever the hell they wanted didn’t taste as sweet. Lily felt the same. She had liked the idea of starting from scratch, and she understood the appealing feeling of not wanting anyone to get on Earth, even only out of anger. But they were talking about human lives, their families’ lives. Her father’s life. She had a lot to be angry at Marcus Kane, and she was. But she preferred not to talk to him ever again and knowing him alive, rather than having him dead in a broken spaceship with no oxygen.
“We are stronger than you think!” Bellamy’s voice caught Lily’s attention. “Don’t listen to her, she is one of the privileged.”
Again with that matter?
“Why?” Lily asked, her arms still crossed over her chest as she saw Bellamy turn to her, observing her for a moment. “Why would she lie about that?” she asked again, since he was not answering.
“If they come down, she’ll have it good,” Bellamy answered, before turning to the crowd around them. “How many of you can say the same?”
That was beyond the point. That didn’t make any sense. Nobody would lie about that. But why was he so stubborn about it? Why would he not reconsider even after he knew what was really going on on the Ark? Was he truly that angry? Would he really keep on living knowing that he left them to die?
“We can take care of ourselves!” he kept saying, and Lily was surprised at how many people seemed to agree with him. “That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore!” Lily observed him as he started to pace back and forth. “They say they’ll forgive your crimes. I say you are not criminals! You’re fighters, survivors!” He stopped for a moment to take a breath. “The Grounders should be worried about us!”
Everyone shouted in agreement, they really thought that that was all that mattered? They did not care that their loved ones were dying?
That’s what those laws had done to us, she thought sadly, knowing how much all of them had suffered. But was that enough to not feel any compassion towards who was on the Ark?
Her eyes followed Bellamy as he walked to his sister, while many guys kept calling for his name. He was becoming their leader. But why he was doing all of that was still strange to Lily.
“What do we do now?” the voice of Jasper's friend made her turn, to see him speak to Clarke.
“Now we go after Jasper,” she answered with resolution. And without thinking twice, Lily started to follow them toward the dropship.

Chapter Text

Clarke had decided that she wanted to go back to where they had last seen Jasper. From what she and Jasper’s friend, Monty, had told Lily, they were almost at Mount Weather when, after crossing the last river, a spear came out of nowhere and hit Jasper. They thought he was dead, but as they were running away, they heard him scream. Yet, when they went back, he had already been moved. Lily didn’t know if she felt relieved or not. If they had heard him scream, it meant he was still alive—but why would whoever attacked him take him away? Were they planning to hurt him even more?
“I need you to come with me, Lily,” Clarke told her.
“Me?” she asked, a small frown forming on her face.
Clarke nodded. “You were a medical technician,” she said, and Lily nodded back. “When we find him, I’ll need as much help as I can get.”
So far, no one else among the hundred seemed to have any medical training. Clarke was the only one with real practical experience, but Lily knew a few things—maybe not much, but certainly more than most of them.
“I’ll come with you,” Lily said at last, trying to sound as firm as she could.
Clarke took a breath. “Thank you,” she said, before climbing up the iron stairs to grab a map and some more things that could have been useful.
Lily took a deep breath and couldn’t stop thinking about Jasper—and the Grounders. There were real people out there, and they knew nothing about them. She looked around, her eyes lingering on the entrance of the dropship. Suddenly, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. If there really were Grounders, then the woods belonged to them. They knew every path, every sound. And the hundred? They knew nothing. They still had everything to learn about Earth.
Then her eyes caught the movement of Monty, pacing the room back and forth, biting his thumb nervously. She would have liked to say something to him, but what could she say? Making promises wouldn’t have helped him. She wasn’t even sure they would find Jasper alive. But of course, that was something she would never say to Monty. Lily had had the chance to speak only briefly with Jasper, but she had seen him and Monty always close, and judging by his reaction, the two of them must have known each other well.
“You’re not coming with us,” Clarke’s voice caught Lily’s attention, as she saw the girl climbing down the ladder, followed by Wells.
“My ankle is fine,” he was saying, but Clarke was quick to respond.
“It’s not your ankle, Wells. It’s you,” Lily frowned at Clarke’s reply. Weren’t the two of them friends? She thought so. She remembered seeing them always together on the Ark. Why was she being so hostile with Wells?
“You came back for reinforcements,” Wells protested. “I’m coming with you.”
“Clarke, he’s right,” Monty said, stepping forward. “We need him.” Clarke didn’t seem to like what Monty was saying, and that confused Lily even more.
“We need as many people as we can get,” Lily said, her arms crossed over her chest, sharing a look with Monty.
He gave a quick nod. “Even because so far, no one else has volunteered.” That was true. No one had stepped forward for Jasper except for Wells.
“I’m sorry, Monty,” Clarke said, “but you’re not going either.”
Lily frowned, looking at the boy standing next to her, who now stepped forward urgently. “Like hell I’m not!” he exclaimed. “Jasper is my best friend.”
“You’re too important,” Clarke answered with resolution. “You were raised in Farm Station, rescued by engineering.” Lily widened her eyes at those words.
“So?” Monty asked.
And Clarke answered immediately, “So, food and communication. What’s up here,” she said, tapping Monty’s head, “is going to save us all.” He could really help them in that situation—they needed to speak to the Ark. They needed help now more than ever.
“You figure out how to talk to the Ark,” Clarke said, “and Lily and I will bring Jasper back.” Lily took a step forward, putting a hand on Monty’s arm, making him look at her. She didn’t say anything, just offered a small smile with a nod of her head. Then the two girls shared a look before turning to make their way toward the exit. But before they could step out, Finn appeared.
“Hey,” Clarke told him, “you ready?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Finn answered, shaking his head, “and neither should any of you.”
Lily looked at him with a little frown. “But… he could still be alive,” she said in a quiet voice. She knew it was dangerous, but if Jasper was still alive, they couldn’t leave him behind like that.
“That spear was thrown with pinpoint accuracy from 300 feet,” Finn said to her, but it was Monty who answered him.
“So what? We let Jasper die?” he asked, with anger rising in his tone.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Clarke reassured him, then turned back to Finn. “Spacewalker?” she said. “What a joke. You think you're such an adventurer. You’re really just a coward.” Then she turned to Lily. “Let’s go.”
Lily nodded and started to follow her. Just as they were about to walk out, Finn spoke again.
“It’s not an adventure, Clarke. It’s a suicide mission.”
But Clarke didn’t answer and walked away. Lily looked at Finn for a moment—he was scared, like they all were. But knowing Jasper was in the hands of the Grounders scared her even more. They had no way to know what their intentions were.
“It seems like it’s just us,” Clarke said, not hiding how annoyed she still was with Finn.
“I think Wells will come as well,” Lily replied, glancing back to see the boy stepping out of the dropship. She didn’t miss the tension on Clarke’s face. Did something happen between them?
“Better three than two,” Lily added, trying to sound as encouraging as she could.
Clarke took a deep breath. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Lily frowned but kept following her through the camp. As they walked, she noticed Clarke heading straight toward Bellamy, who was kneeling in front of Octavia, checking a scratch on her leg.
Was she really going to ask him to tag along?
Lily didn’t know how she felt about it. She didn’t understand Bellamy—she didn’t know what he wanted, or what he was capable of. And that didn’t make her feel at ease with him, especially in a situation where Wells was involved.
“You could have died,” he was saying to his sister as they got closer.
“She would have been,” Clarke said, catching Bellamy’s attention, “if Jasper didn't jump in to pull her out.”
Lily looked at Octavia’s leg. Her thigh had what looked like a bite; it didn’t seem dangerously deep, but surely it must have hurt.
The dark-haired girl moved quickly as she noticed them. “You guys leaving?” she asked, trying to get up. “I'm coming, too.” But Bellamy was quick to push her to sit back, not allowing her to move. Lily observed him—it was impressive how much he changed whenever something was about Octavia. That guy was very different from the one Lily had seen for a day, and she could not help but wonder which one was the real Bellamy.
“He is right,” Clarke agreed with Bellamy. “Your leg is just gonna slow us down.” Octavia let out a frustrated breath as the other girl looked up at Bellamy. “I’m here for you.”
He seemed surprised to hear Clarke say that—and he wasn’t the only one.
“Clarke, what are you doing?” Wells asked with wide eyes, but she ignored him.
“I heard you have a gun.” At her words, Bellamy moved the hem of his shirt up to show her the weapon. Lily crossed her arms over her chest at the sight of it.
“Good,” Clarke said. “Follow me.”
But Bellamy didn’t seem to like the idea as he looked at her. “Why would I do that?” Lily was not surprised by his reaction; if there was something she had understood about him, it was that he hated those who had lived as privileged on the Ark. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked to oblige if someone asked him to do something—especially if he didn’t like them.
“Because you want them to follow you,” Clarke answered with resolution and distrust. “And right now, they’re thinking that only one of us is scared.” Lily had to stop herself from smiling proudly at Clarke’s words; he was eager to become their leader, but that meant he had to show strength. Thinking it through, Lily wasn’t sure many of them would have kept respecting him if he stayed hidden inside the dropship. And he knew that too.
As Lily moved to follow Clarke, she glanced at Bellamy. Their eyes met for a brief moment—tense, unreadable. He didn’t smirk this time. Then he looked behind her.
“Murphy,” he said, and Lily followed his gaze, only now noticing that Murphy was standing just a few feet away. “Come with me.”
Lily kept her pace to follow Clarke, but her eyes shifted to Wells. She had seen how Bellamy liked to instigate Murphy and Wells against each other, and she just hoped he wasn’t bringing him for a second agenda.
“Those guys aren’t only bullies, Clarke,” she heard Wells say to his friend. “They’re dangerous criminals.”
“I’m counting on it,” Clarke answered. Lily listened carefully. Did she think they could help in case of danger? Would they help them if it came to that?
Lily turned as she walked, noticing how Bellamy and Murphy were talking to each other. They had to stay together if they hoped to survive—she knew that—but it was clear that a rift divided the group, and she worried about what could happen out there.
Still, there was no use in being paranoid. She had to stay focused on finding Jasper and bringing him back alive. There were priorities—and she hoped Bellamy and Murphy would feel the same way.
They walked quickly through the woods, following Clarke’s lead. Lily looked around, unnerved by the forest. It felt like eyes were watching them, like shadows were hiding just behind the trees. A quiet, creeping threat she couldn’t shake off.
“Hey, hold up. What’s the rush?” Bellamy’s voice made Lily exhale an annoyed breath, just before she looked in his direction. That same smug smirk on his face, the gun in his hand. “You don’t survive a spear through the heart.”
“Put the gun away, Bellamy!” Wells exclaimed, charging toward him, but Murphy stepped between them, shoving him back.
“Why don’t you do something about it?” he hissed. Lily moved before she could think—positioning herself between the two and pushing them apart with both hands on their chests.
“Murphy, stop!” she exclaimed, looking up at him. “This is not the time.” Murphy observed her silently for a moment before scoffing.
“What time?” he asked her, but Clarke was the one who answered.
“Jasper screamed when they moved him,” she explained urgently. They needed to move, and wasting time like this was stupid and dangerous. “If the spear struck his heart, he'd have died instantly. It doesn't mean we have time to waste.”
As she was about to move, Bellamy grabbed her wrist—the one with the wristband.
“As soon as you take this wristband off, we can go,” he said with a smirk.
Even now? Lily thought, looking at him, her head still full of questions about why it was so important for him to stop the Ark from coming down.
Clarke pulled free from his hold and spoke again. “The only way the Ark is gonna think I'm dead is if I'm dead. Got it?” Bellamy let out a chuckle, sharing a look with Murphy that made Lily tense. What was he planning to do?
“Brave, princess,” he said threateningly, taking a step toward Clarke.
He wanted to take off her wristband, like he had done with Wells the night before. Lily felt her heart hammering in her chest, but her body moved before she could stop it—her arms shot forward and grabbed Bellamy’s wrist. He stopped, turning toward her. Lily didn’t even know what she planned to do. Her body had just reacted.
Their eyes met, and his gaze was surprised as much as hers. He looked at her hand, then at her again. Lily didn’t know what she had planned to do, maybe she had to say something, but before she or he could speak, another voice came from behind.
“Hey, why don’t you find your own nickname?” Finn stepped out from behind a tree, making them all turn. “You call this a rescue party?” he said, stopping next to Bellamy. “Gotta split up. Cover more ground.” Then he told Clarke to follow him.
They all watched as Clarke walked ahead—and only then did Lily realize she was still holding Bellamy’s wrist. Their eyes met again, briefly, and this time she let go quickly and turned away. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself—especially from someone like Bellamy. She didn’t want to end up on his bad side, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
As she walked, she heard footsteps behind her. Lily exhaled, pushing her hair back, expecting to see Wells beside her—but when she turned slightly, it was Murphy. The breath she had held escaped in a quiet sigh, and he caught it.
“You really are a feisty one,” he said. She didn’t need to look at him to hear the smirk in his voice. “Didn’t think a girl like you would step up as often as you do.”
Lily inhaled slowly. She wasn’t sure she knew she had it in her either—but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Someone has to stop you all when you act like children,” she replied.
He laughed again, this time walking a little closer. “You’re either brave… or stupid.”
She looked up at him. Their eyes met—his still glinting with something unreadable—before he gave her another smirk and moved ahead. Lily watched him for a moment. He wasn’t entirely wrong. She did need to think more before acting. These weren’t just people—they were dangerous, some more than others. She had to start remembering that.
Then her gaze shifted back. Bellamy and Wells were walking a few steps behind, talking. And as she looked, Bellamy looked back. Their eyes met again, fleeting but direct.
In your position, I wouldn’t want to draw attention to myself.
That’s what he had told her that night. And she was doing exactly that.
Then suddenly, though, she felt a spike of anger. She was doing what she thought was right. They couldn’t keep going like this—threatening each other every five seconds, circling like predators. They were stuck in this together, whether they liked it or not. And if they wanted to make it out alive, they had no choice but to collaborate.
She took a breath, stopping in her tracks and turning to look at Bellamy say one last thing to Wells, before walking faster.
What am I doing? she thought to herself, as she observed him getting closer. He looked at her before smirking.
“I haven’t hurt the Chancellor,” he said, raising his hands mockingly.
Lily rolled her eyes. “I want to speak with you,” she said, clearly surprising him. He stopped in front of her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. As they studied each other, Wells passed by, eyeing them, but then he walked away.
Bellamy waited for him to be a few feet away before crossing his arms. “Ask away.”
Lily took a breath. “Why did you decide to come?” she asked with a firm tone, and he raised his eyebrows at her question.
“You’d have preferred for me to stay back?” he answered with a question, but she didn’t back away.
“After the show you put up with Clarke?” Lily said, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe it was better.” He observed her in silence, as she took another breath. “But we need you, and Murphy, so please, just quit it with your obsession over these damn wristbands—just for today, alright?” He was quiet, his dark eyes studying every part of her face, and Lily didn’t think that he would answer, so she took his silence as agreement and turned to keep walking.
But after she had made a few steps, he spoke. “You thought of taking it off yourself.” She turned with a glare, observing him as he walked closer to her. “I saw you yesterday. You wanted to take it off.”
Lily crossed her arms over her chest; she could not deny that the thought of starting all over had been tempting—but that was before she came to know that the Ark was dying, and with it all of their people.
Bellamy was just in front of her, and Lily had to look up to meet his gaze. “What I keep asking myself is why Counselor Kane’s little pet would want to do something against the privilege.”
Lily’s eyes widened at the mention of her father’s name. “What did you just call me?”
Bellamy chuckled as he started to walk around her. “Lily Hale,” he said. “You were one of us, but then you got a cushy job, backed by Marcus Kane. People say you’ve played your cards right.”
The girl glared at him with anger. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
He stopped, another smirk spreading on his face. “Not you, then—your mother?”
“Don’t you dare speak about my mother!” she exclaimed, beyond angry now. She didn’t know that people talked about her, or her mother. When her mother died, Marcus had helped her get a good job, but that was the only public thing he had ever done for her. She could never imagine that such nasty rumors would spread about her—or her mom. “I don’t have to justify myself or my life. It has nothing to do with anything.”
He chuckled, before reaching out to touch the wristband around her wrist. “I think it does, if you matter so much to a member of the Council.” She snatched her arm away from his grasp.
“I don’t matter to him. I’m here, am I not?” she exclaimed, looking at him straight in his dark eyes. “The real issue here is: why do you care so much about these wristbands? Why don’t you want them to come down?”
Bellamy’s jaw tensed as he glared down at her, but before he could say anything, they heard Clarke and Finn’s voices calling for them, and, sharing a last look, they ran in the direction of their voices.
What was happening now?

Chapter Text

Lily had run, followed by Bellamy, Murphy and Wells, to find Clarke and Finn standing next to a pond. Their clothes were wet, but they seemed unharmed. But as Lily was observing them, she noticed Clarke holding something.
“Are those Jasper’s?” she asked, making her way to the two of them. But when she was close enough, her heart sank at the sight of a rock stained with blood. Clarke was pale, even if she was trying to stay resolute, while Finn was kneeling down, studying the blood.
“Was he here?” Wells asked, stopping next to Lily. She didn’t need to hear Clarke’s answer; her eyes were fixed on all that blood. Was it possible that Jasper was still alive? Was he suffering much? Lily felt her breath grow shorter, but she did her best to stay focused as she noticed Finn getting up, his gaze fixed on the ground.
“Finn?” Clarke asked, starting to follow the boy.
“They brought him this way,” he answered, taking short and studied steps.
“How does he know?” she heard Murphy say. He wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but she had heard him since he was standing right behind her. Lily was wondering the same thing, though. But there was no time to lose—they didn’t know where to go, but Finn did. So she took another breath to calm her nerves and followed him and Clarke.
Finn kept observing every little spot he passed by, stopping sometimes and kneeling to look closer. Then he stood up and kept walking. From where they had found them, Finn had led them along the side of a small stream. Lily, for a moment, was afraid that it might be deep, since she couldn’t swim, but getting closer she realized the water didn’t reach above her ankles.
“Hey,” Murphy said with an annoyed tone, “How do we know this is the right way?”
Bellamy didn’t waste time answering. “We don't,” he said. “Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker.” Lily shook her head. She could have told him that at least Finn was trying to do something, but she really didn’t want to argue at that moment.
“It’s called ‘cutting sign,’” Wells explained. “Fourth-year Earth Skills. He’s good.” Lily looked up at Finn, impressed. That was an amazing skill to have learned.
“You want to keep it down, or should I paint a target on your backs?” Finn complained as he kept looking around. Lily bit her lip, observing her surroundings. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t thinking about the Grounders. If they were getting closer to Jasper, it was likely that someone was watching them.
“Don’t be scared, sweetie,” Murphy said, walking next to her. “I think he’s just overreacting.” He didn’t seem to believe that Finn had any idea what he was doing. But Lily could do nothing but trust that he was leading them somewhere. She was useless anyway in that moment.
Then suddenly, she saw Finn frowning as he walked closer to a bush, touching the leaves of a broken branch, and then kneeling down, immediately followed by Clarke. Lily moved her head, trying to get a glimpse of what they were looking at. But when she saw them look at each other with worried expressions, she knew he was leading them the right way.
“See?” she heard Bellamy say. “You’re invisible.” Those words made her frown as she turned to see that he was speaking to Wells.
What is he doing now? she thought with a glare. Why did he have to try and manipulate everyone? What was his purpose?
As she was observing them, though, Bellamy looked in her direction, catching her staring. Lily didn’t turn away; she was getting fed up with his attitude. But as they were glancing at each other, they heard a loud moan cut through the air. Lily immediately turned, as did everyone. It was an awful sound, full of sorrow and pain, and what was worse was that the voice sounded familiar.
“What the hell was that?” Murphy spoke, breaking the silence between them.
“Now would be a good time to take out that gun,” Clarke said with urgency. Lily saw Bellamy walking forward, moving his hand so that he could hold his gun. There was no turning back now. They had found Jasper—but they were in a very dangerous situation. They had to make it quick, and finally all of them seemed to share her same thoughts, as they followed Finn into the woods. He followed the painful sounds Jasper was making, all the while looking down to make sure he was following the right tracks.
He is alive, Lily kept thinking as she ran between Wells and Bellamy. She wanted to focus only on Jasper—on finding him fast and bringing him back to the dropship. She didn’t want to think about anything else. She couldn’t, or she would panic.
They followed Finn through a path in the woods until he led them into a clearing, and what she saw made Lily gasp in fear. In the middle of that glade there was a huge tree with no leaves. There were many spears around it and, tied up against the pale trunk, Jasper. His hands were bound over his head, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and from where she stood Lily could see the wound on his chest.
He should be bleeding a lot more, she thought, as Clarke moved first to run towards the tree.
“Jasper!” she called, but he didn’t answer. Lily followed behind Murphy, her eyes fixed on Jasper’s frame. He was breathing and moaning, but he didn’t seem conscious.
“What the hell is this?” Bellamy said just behind Clarke. Then, suddenly, the ground opened under her, swallowing her down. Lily gasped as a hand held her back by the elbow, but her eyes were fixed on Bellamy kneeling on the ground.
Did he catch Clarke?
“Clarke!” Finn yelled, running toward Bellamy, followed by Wells close behind. Then the hand around her elbow let her go, and Murphy rushed forward, kneeling to help Bellamy and the others. Lily felt her heart hammering in her chest as she dashed to follow him. When she arrived at Bellamy, her arms shot to grab him by the waist, helping Wells do the same, while Finn and Murphy grabbed Clarke’s arms as well.
“Pull her up, pull her up!” Finn was shouting as they all started to pull with all their strength. All together, they managed to pull Clarke up, but even if it took them only a few seconds, for Lily it felt like an endless moment. The sound of her own heart was loud in her ears, and once she saw Clarke safe on the ground, Lily let go of Bellamy with a relieved breath.
“You okay?” Finn was asking Clarke as he helped her to her feet. Lily looked down at the hole in the ground, and she let out a gasp when she noticed the bottom filled with spears. Clarke would have died for sure if Bellamy hadn’t caught her. Lily found herself looking up at Bellamy, who was taking deep breaths as well.
“We need to get him down,” Clarke said, not wasting time, even though she had almost died.
“I’ll climb up there,” Finn said, “and cut the vines.” Wells was ready to follow him, but Finn stopped him.
“No, stay with Clarke,” he said, before glaring toward Bellamy. “And watch him.” Those words made Lily frown as she looked from Finn to Bellamy. She knew he wasn’t to be trusted, but he had saved Clarke—he could have easily let her fall without even trying to help. And anyhow, why would Bellamy want Clarke dead?
Then Finn looked at Murphy. “You, let’s go.” Lily turned to look at the boy, who shared a look with Bellamy. Bellamy gave him a nod, and in the end, he obliged silently.
“Lily, have you seen?” Clarke asked her, catching her attention. “There is a poultice on his wound.” Now that she was closer, Lily could see it better. It was right above where he had been hit, and it was made with herbs. She was too far to know what kind, but she didn’t need to. He wasn’t bleeding, and he was still alive.
“A medication,” she said, her eyes on Jasper, as she stepped closer to Clarke.
“Why would they save his life just to string him up as live bait?” Wells asked from behind them. Lily shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she said with a frown and a slight shake of her head. “They could’ve saved any trouble by leaving him for dead.”
“Maybe what they're trying to catch likes its dinner to be breathing,” Bellamy said from behind Lily, who looked up at him. He was observing the trap, and it didn’t seem like a wrong guess. She had read on the Ark that many animals preferred to hunt living prey, because they soon lost interest in a dead one.
“Maybe what they're trying to catch is us,” Finn said, but Lily wasn’t too sure about it.
“This is their home,” she said, with a shake of her head. “We are harmless. If they wanted to catch us, they would’ve followed you back to the dropship and attacked us.” Her words worried the group, and she looked first at Clarke, then at Bellamy. He surely was already thinking about his sister’s safety—like he always did.
“Whatever it is, let’s make it quick,” Murphy said, starting to climb up the tree. “I don’t like it here.”
The four of them kept their eyes fixed on Finn and Murphy as they climbed to reach Jasper. The two of them were doing their best to cut him loose, when a strange sound made them all turn.
“What the hell was that?” Murphy asked, looking behind his shoulder. Lily felt her body freeze, they were not alone.
“Grounders?” Bellamy asked, his confident mask falling for the first time since she had met him. But they didn’t have to wait long before a huge feline appeared in the clear. It was dark, with hungry eyes, and he spotted them immediately.
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered as she saw the beast’s eyes fixed on them. A cry left her lips when it started to run in their direction.
“Bellamy!” she called for him as she noticed the feline charging towards him.
“The gun!” Clarke said, her voice too laced with panic. Bellamy moved his hand to his waist to take the weapon, and Lily’s blood froze when she noticed that it was not there. But when he looked up, Bellamy’s eyes fixed on something behind Lily and Clarke, and when she turned Lily saw that Wells was holding the gun in his hand, starting to shoot at the beast.
Lily covered her ears with the first bullet, but she forced herself to open them as quickly as she could. It seemed that Wells had been able to hit its side, but the animal didn’t stop. It got back on his feet hiding in the tall grass.
Wells was still holding the gun as he put himself before Clarke. Lily was closer to Bellamy, and not seeing the feline, she moved forward taking his arm to pull him back.
“Stay back,” Bellamy said, pushing her back slightly.
Lily felt her body tense with every rustle in the tall grass, each sound sending a jolt through her. Her fingers, slick with sweat, clenched the back of Bellamy’s jacket as she moved with him, eyes scanning the clearing, heart pounding.
Then a sudden roar tore through the air. She turned just in time to see the beast leaping straight at them. Instinct took over—she raised her arms in front of her face in a useless attempt to shield herself.
Mom...
The crack of gunfire split the air. Lily flinched, breath caught in her throat—then forced her eyes open. The animal lay motionless in front of them, its body collapsed mid-pounce.
Wells stood behind it, the gun still smoking in his hands.
“Now she sees you,” Bellamy muttered, glancing toward Wells.
But Lily wasn’t listening. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she dropped to the ground, barely catching herself on her hands. Her shoulders shook as the weight of what had almost happened settled in. A hot sting filled her eyes, not quite tears—but close enough. She had truly believed that was her last moment. That she wouldn’t make it back. That she’d die right there, in a forest she had never imagined setting foot in.
“Lily.” Clarke’s voice came gently, drawing her out of the fog. She turned to see the other girl kneeling beside her, concern etched across her face. “Are you alright?”
Lily tried to speak, but her breath was uneven, her throat tight. She didn’t want to fall apart—not now. Not in front of everyone. She wasn’t the kind of person who could afford to be a burden.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, nodding quickly. “I’m okay.”
Clarke rested a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. The touch was brief, but Lily welcomed it with a silent gratitude.
A moment later, Finn’s voice called out from above, pulling their attention to the tree. He and Murphy had finally managed to cut Jasper loose, and the boy’s limp body was now being lowered carefully toward the ground.
Wells moved without hesitation to help, rushing forward to steady Jasper’s descent. Lily followed him with her gaze—but then stopped when a hand appeared in her line of sight.
Bellamy.
He didn’t speak. Just looked at her, offering his hand with the same steadiness he had shown in the chaos.
Lily blinked once, then reached up and took it. He gripped her, helping her up on her feet. As she stood, their eyes met for a moment. Lily was about to thank him, when he let her go, turning his back to her and stepping near the feline on the ground.
She observed him quietly; she really could not understand him. He could be the worst of assholes, but then he would care about his sister, save Clarke’s life, and protect Lily. Who was Bellamy, really?
But then she turned to see what was happening to Jasper. She saw that they were lowering him to the ground. Lily was quick to move closer to take a better look at his wound.
It was still raw, but she had been right—it wasn’t bleeding anymore. The Grounders had smeared a thick, greenish paste over it. It clung to his skin in streaks, some of it dried, some still wet.
She crouched, frowning. The texture wasn’t uniform. There were fibrous strands—leaves, maybe—mixed with darker grit, something like crushed bark or… was that ash? She wasn’t sure.
Whatever it was, it worked for now, she thought. But she wasn’t sure how long it would help. At some point, they would have to change it, but she didn’t know when.
On the Ark, they’d been taught to use sterile dressings, synthetic gels. This was the opposite of sterile.
“You think you can replicate it?” Clarke asked behind her, quietly.
Lily didn’t answer right away. She reached out, gently picking up a small flake of dried paste that had fallen onto the grass, glancing up at Jasper to be sure she hadn’t hurt him—but he was passed out.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning her attention back to the poultice in her hand. “But I can try.”

Chapter Text

When they got back to the dropship, the sun had been down for a couple of hours, according to Clarke. Finn and Wells had carried Jasper all the way, while Bellamy and Murphy had dragged the dead animal so they could eat it that night.
Lily just walked quickly through the forest, trying to figure out what the Grounders might have used to stop Jasper from bleeding. And as they stepped into the clearing, where all the hundred were gathered around the fire, Lily simply followed Wells and Finn inside the dropship.
“Jasper!” Monty exclaimed as they moved the curtain at the ship’s entrance. He ran to them, his eyes widening when he saw his friend’s condition.
“Is he going to be alright?”
At his question, Clarke and Lily shared a look. For now, Jasper seemed stable enough, but a spear had hit him square in the chest. He could get better—or maybe not.
“We’ll do our best,” Clarke answered, trying to sound as encouraging as possible. Monty looked at them, eyes full of worry, but there was nothing more he could do except nod as Finn and Wells brought Jasper up to the upper level.
“I’ll go get some boiled water,” Lily said to Clarke, who thanked her before following the others up the ladder.
The girl stepped out of the dropship and noticed that the others had already started skinning and cutting the feline’s flesh. That was not a situation she would have ever imagined finding herself in: on the ground, surrounded by survivors who just wanted to kill them, with very little chance of survival.
Lily felt exhausted, but she couldn’t afford to stop. She had to help Jasper. He has to survive, she thought. She needed to believe it was possible for them to make it—and that they weren’t just waiting helplessly to die.
You hadn’t thought it through, Marcus, she thought, looking up at the sky, as if she could spot the Ark. And she wished she could—and that they could see her back, and see how angry she was at that system. They had thrown a bunch of kids into a world they knew nothing about, just because they weren’t important. They didn’t even send guards down with them to protect them. They had just left them alone to die.
“Hey,” Octavia’s voice made her turn as she walked towards the water. “Is Jasper alright?” she asked with worried eyes.
“He’s alive, for now,” she answered honestly, and Octavia let out a frustrated breath. But then she spoke again.
“I’ve put some water to boil,” she said pointing to a bucket set above the fire, “I’ve found you some clean clothes too.” Lily’s lips turned up into a little smile, thanking Octavia for her kind gesture. Then she observed the girl leave, she truly seemed worried for Jasper, she must have grown fond of him as they went to search for Mouth Weather.
Lily took another deep breath, to make her way to the bucket and sat next to it, bringing her knees against her chest, her eyes looking at the flames of the fire. She didn’t have the chance the night before, to look at the fire. On the Ark there was no reason to light one. And she tried to get distracted from all her thoughts by looking at the flames. But even if she could not deny the beauty of all the things she was seeing, it didn’t appease her mind at all. There were too many dangers all around them to have them forgotten.
“Smile, sweetie,” Murphy’s voice made her look up, to see him in front of her with a smirk. “We’re alive, and we got food.”
“For now,” she answered, not sharing his enthusiasm.
Murphy let out a chuckle at her reply, crouching beside her with a piece of raw meat skewered on a long stick.
“Try to lose it up,” he said, glancing toward the fire where the others were cooking, “Bellamy says we’ve earned it today.”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “Earned what?”
He gestured toward the meat. “Dinner.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Murphy smiled as if it were obvious. “You want to eat, you take off your wristband. That’s the rule now.”
Lily stared at him, refusing to believe his words, even if she knew that he was telling the truth.
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Come on, you didn’t think this was charity, did you? Bellamy’s got to make sure the Ark thinks we’re dying. No signals, no rescue mission. That’s the plan.”
Lily’s eyes dropped to the wristband still around her wrist, her jaw tightening.
“He can’t be serious.”
Murphy chuckled as he observed her face. “Serious enough to make it happen. No wristband, or no food.”
She looked toward where Bellamy was making everyone line up all around the fire, so that two of his ‘followers’ would start to open the wristbands one by one. Lily felt suddenly cold despite the fire in front of her.
“But we all need to eat,” she said, returning her gaze to Murphy.
Murphy didn’t answer, he just smirked one last time, before standing up and walking away, to join his mates to open the wristbands.
They were forcing them all to take it away like that. Bellamy liked to say that they could choose whatever they wanted to do, but in reality he had no intention to make them choose. Lily felt anger flare in her, she would rather starve than doing what Bellamy wanted for them to do.
I’m tired of his games, she thought standing up, and taking the boiling water so that she could finally go back to Jasper.
And next to Jasper she remained all night, cleaning his wound and taking turns with Clarke so that one of them would always be awake. And they had kept it up for two entire days now.
The camp was getting restless, Jasper was in a lot of pain, and he would moan loudly all day and night. He would pass out from time to time, and people seemed to be wishing for his death every day more. Lily hated that. Why was no one caring about what had happened to him? They just cared about the threat of the Grounders. They didn’t want to end up like Jasper, but all of them wished for him to die soon so that they could sleep at night.
“He should be getting better by now,” Lily whispered as she looked at the wound on Jasper’s chest.
“Yeah, I know,” Clarke said, sharing the same worry that Lily was feeling. “Look at it,” she said pointing at the red flash around the wound. That was a bad sign. They had already talked about it. The Grounders had cauterized his wound, and that was giving him time. But the medication seemed to be losing its benefits and they were risking letting it get infected, and it seemed it was already happening.
Clarke pushed the sweaty hair back from Jasper’s forehead. “I hope Monty will be able to make contact with the Ark,” Clarke said, not hiding her worry, “I need to speak with my mother.”
Lily nodded in understanding. She knew what Clarke was feeling, and she knew that they were the only two people who could do something about it, but that was even worse.
“You’re doing all you can,” Lily said, trying to sound encouraging. “You always say he is going to make it, so he will.”
Clarke forced a little smile, and then she nodded her head. Then she passed a hand on her hair, “I don’t like his flesh though,” she said thoughtfully.
“What should we do?” Lily said, but Clarke took a breath.
“I’m still not sure,” then she looked at her, “Did you figure out what they had used?” Clarke asked with a hint of hope, but Lily didn’t have good news.
“With no microscope, I can’t be sure,” she said with all honesty, “But we are in the same woods they used to cure him.” Clarke looked at her with a little frown.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked quietly.
Lily took a breath, “Search for some herbs, if we’ll need it,” she said, trying to sound as steady as possible. In all honesty she really didn’t want to leave the dropship. But she had to or Jasper could get worse.
“Alone?” Clarke asked, but Lily shook her head.
“I’ve heard there’s a hunt party,” Lily answered, not liking her own idea. “They are going to cover a lot of ground, and maybe I could find all the herbs I think can help.”
“Are you sure?” Clarke asked her as Lily got on her feet. Lily wanted to be honest, but she nodded her head. And as she did Jasper moaned loudly once again, making her heart ache. She didn’t have much of a choice.
She didn’t like the idea of asking him anything—but for Jasper, she’d do it. She walked out, looking for Bellamy.
He was talking with Murphy, Atom, and another boy, surely giving them orders like he always did. Murphy was tossing his knife lazily at the trunk of a tree.
Lily took a deep breath and stepped forward, her voice calm but firm.
“Bellamy.”
Murphy turned first, his brows lifting. “Well, well,” he said with a grin. “Look who’s not playing nurse for once.”
Bellamy stopped mid-sentence and turned toward her, expression unreadable as he sent Antom and the other boy away. “What do you want?” he asked her, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ve heard you are organizing a hunt party,” she said, and at her words Murphy chuckled.
“Do you wanna hunt, sweetie?” Lily only glared at him, before she turned to Bellamy.
“I need to go out there-” but Bellamy shook his head as he passed her.
“Not gonna happen,” Lily frowned, turning fast to follow him.
In the last three days, they had managed to set up the tents that were inside the dropship, and when he entered in his tent, Lily did not think twice to follow him inside, pushed by the loud moans inside the dropship.
“I need to find some plans,” Lily exclaimed, stepping inside, followed by Murphy who was still chuckling. Bellamy took a deep breath when he heard her.
“Let me guess,” he said, turning to look at her, “You think you can save him.”
“I know I want to try,” she answered, her heart aching at every moan she heard echoing in the clear. They were getting worse.
Murphy chuckled again, brushing her shoulder with his as he passed to set down looking at her. But she didn’t let his mockery gaze bother her.
“Bellamy,” she said, looking at the boy in the eyes, “I need to go out there, but I can’t go alone.”
Bellamy didn’t answer right away. He looked at her, jaw clenched, then let out a breath and turned his attention to his bag, clearly trying to ignore her.
“I can’t spare anyone,” he muttered. “And I’m not taking liabilities into the woods.”
Lily raised her chin. “I’m not asking to be protected. I know what I’m looking for, and I won’t slow anyone down.”
Murphy snorted. “You gonna sniff out herbs like a bloodhound? Come on.”
She ignored him. “If we don’t find something soon, he dies. You’ve heard him. You all are starting to want that.”
Bellamy’s expression tightened. He didn’t deny it.
They stared at each other for a long beat. He was observing her face, studying her, but he had no time to answer because, suddenly, the flap of the tent was thrown open with force. Octavia stormed in, her expression blazing with fury.
“What did you do to Atom?” she snapped, her eyes locked on Bellamy like daggers.
The tension in the air shifted instantly. Bellamy’s jaw clenched, but his gaze flicked sideways toward Murphy, giving him a subtle nod.
Murphy stood up with a sigh and turned to Lily, the usual smirk creeping back onto his face.
“Come on, nurse. Why don’t you take a look at my wounds now?” he said mockingly, gesturing toward the exit as he ushered her out.
“Wait,” she protested. “Bellamy-”
“Later,” he said firmly, before looking at Murphy, “Bring her out.”
Murphy nodded once, placing a hand on her back pushing her forward, Lily let out a frustrated breath and as she walked out she casted a quick glance over her shoulder. Octavia looked livid with her brother, and judging by Bellamy’s face, he knew exactly what she was talking about.
But why was she bringing up Atom?
“What have you done this time?” Lily asked, looking up at Murphy.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “You got a thing for poking around where you shouldn’t?” he muttered, eyes avoiding hers.
“Like when I stopped Wells from hurting you?”
Her response made him snap his head toward her. Lily stopped in her tracks as their eyes locked. His gaze sharpened, narrowing as he leaned in.
“What?” he hissed, voice low and dark. “You want my thanks?”
“I just wish you’d all stop trying to kill each other before someone actually dies,” she replied firmly—more firmly than she expected.
Even she was surprised by the strength in her voice. A flash of regret hit her like a slap. Murphy had a short temper, and she had no idea how he’d react to someone speaking to him like that.
Their eyes remained fixed on each other, intense and unreadable. Lily couldn’t decipher the look he was giving her—mocking? Surprised? Intrigued?
But before he could say anything, a loud scream split the air.
Lily gasped, instantly turning toward the dropship. “Jasper…” she whispered, before breaking into a sprint toward where they kept him. Her legs almost hurt from how fast she was running; were they too late? Was he dying? Those kinds of awful questions kept repeating in her mind as she climbed up the iron ladder. He had been holding on until now—he couldn’t give up. They couldn’t give up.
“Clarke!” she called as she reached the top section of the dropship. “What’s going on?” Clarke, Finn, Wells, and Monty were all gathered around Jasper, who was jerking uncontrollably, moaning in pain, while tears streamed down his tightly shut eyes.
“I need to cut away the infected flesh,” Clarke answered, glancing quickly toward where Lily was standing.
Lily’s eyes widened. “Already?” she exclaimed, trying to keep her panic from rising in her throat.
“Help us keep him down.” Lily didn’t need Clarke to tell her twice. She ran to the side and dropped to her knees beside Monty, gripping Jasper’s arm as firmly as she could. His skin felt hot, slick with sweat, his body trembling beneath her hands.
“Stop!” Octavia’s voice cut through the air as she launched herself next to Jasper, glaring at Clarke. “You’re killing him!”
“She is trying to save his life,” Finn snapped, already ready to defend Clarke. But Octavia wasn’t the only one who had climbed up.
“She can’t,” Bellamy said, his voice cold and certain.
Lily looked up. He stood at the edge, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—stoic, almost detached. But could someone really feel nothing while listening to Jasper’s screams?
Wells was on his feet in a flash, stepping between Bellamy and the others, blocking him from getting closer. The two of them locked eyes, tension radiating from their stances. Lily was tired of this. Tired of power struggles, tired of glaring contests, tired of violence.
“Wells, please, don’t,” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the tension. Both boys looked down at her, but Lily turned her gaze from Wells to Bellamy. “If you’re here, just help.”
Bellamy let out a frustrated breath through his nose.
“We didn’t drag him through miles of woods just to let him die,” Clarke added, not even looking up at him.
“Kid’s a goner,” Bellamy said stubbornly. “If you can’t see that, you’re deluded. He’s making people crazy.”
Lily felt her anger flare. She stood up and took a step toward him. “Is that all you really care about?” she asked, her voice sharp, eyes locked with his. “He’s suffering. Who cares if people are annoyed by it?”
“They’ll get real crazy soon, just wait and see,” he answered, his voice steady and dark.
Lily felt her eyes burn with angry tears, but she forced them back. He wanted to be a leader. Fine. Then it was his job to keep them grounded, to protect them. But what kind of leader wanted to get rid of the people who needed help the most? I can’t go through this again, she thought, her chest tight with a sadness she hadn’t expected.
“Sorry if Jasper’s an inconvenience to you,” Clarke said. She never turned, but her annoyance was evident, her tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “But this isn’t the Ark. Down here, every life matters.”
On the Ark, those who couldn’t keep going were considered a waste of oxygen—and left to die. Bellamy had always said he hated the Ark, that he didn’t want them to repeat that life. But what was he doing now?
He’s acting like Marcus, Lily thought, watching him glare down at Clarke.
“Take a look at him!” Bellamy barked, pointing at Jasper. “He’s a lost cause.”
Silence fell. They all knew Jasper’s condition was terrible. But what were they supposed to do? What kind of society were they building if they didn’t help the ones who needed it most? Why couldn’t they at least try?
“Octavia,” Clarke said, turning to the girl, “I’ve spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there’s hope, there’s hope.” Her voice was calm but firm, and her words seemed to reach Octavia, calming the fire in her eyes.
But Lily wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know if Clarke truly believed what she was saying—but she hoped so. Lily knew one thing for certain: they couldn’t just keep cutting into Jasper over and over. That wasn’t a cure. That was desperation. They needed something real, something that would stop the infection from spreading.
“This isn’t about hope,” Bellamy snapped, “it’s about guts. You don’t have the guts to make the hard choices. I do.” Lily glanced up at him. His tone was harsh, but his face was dead serious. This wasn’t bluster—he meant it. “He’s been like this for three days. If he’s not better by tomorrow, I’ll kill him myself.”
Lily felt her breath catch. She watched as he turned and walked toward the ladder. He wasn’t bluffing. She could see it in the way he moved, in the cold finality in his voice.
Before she could stop herself, her body moved. She stepped forward. “I know how to cure him,” she said, her voice cutting through the room.
Bellamy froze, caught off guard. Behind her, she could feel all the others turning to stare. But her eyes stayed on him.
“You gave us a day, right?” she said, walking closer. She didn’t wait for a response. “A day is all I need. You bring me with you, and I’ll find the plants to cure him.”
Bellamy studied her face, his eyes narrowing. A little frown crept onto his features, but his expression stayed guarded, unreadable.
“You’re going to kill him tomorrow,” she pressed, heart pounding. “What do you care if I try today?”
He was silent for a long second. Lily felt every thud of her heartbeat echo through her chest.
“Be down in five,” he finally said, then turned away.
Lily let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Octavia, let’s go,” Bellamy called.
Octavia stood still for a moment, clearly torn, but eventually she stepped back. She refused to follow him. Bellamy left the dropship alone.
“You’ve figured it out?” Wells asked, stepping up beside Lily. She looked up at him with a heavy sigh.
“I lied,” she admitted, heart racing as all eyes turned to her. “I’ve got a few ideas… but I needed to buy you time.”
“So that we can figure it out,” Clarke said, understanding flashing across her face. There was something close to gratitude in her eyes.
“What do you think it is?” Wells asked. He was watching her intently now. “I aced botany in Earth Skills.”
Lily felt a flicker of relief. Someone who could help. “I’ve spent the last three days staring at that wound, trying to figure out what they put on him.” She glanced at Jasper’s still-trembling body. “Whatever it was… it stopped the bleeding almost immediately, and it slowed the infection. At least for a while.” She turned to Wells. “Based on the texture, the color, and how it reacted with his skin, I’ve got three guesses.”
“Really?” Monty asked, still kneeling beside Jasper.
Lily nodded, hoping—praying—she wasn’t wrong. “Yarrow,” she said. “It’s known to stop bleeding fast. Has those white, feathery flowers. If they crushed it into a poultice, it might explain the clotting.” She took a steadying breath. “Seaweed. Some types are used in traditional medicine. It’s moist, soothing, and might help draw out toxins or reduce inflammation.” Wells nodded slowly, absorbing every word. “And mugwort,” she finished. “It has antibacterial properties if processed right. Could’ve helped slow down the infection.”
“I get it,” Wells said, his eyes focused and thoughtful.
She gave him an encouraging nod, then turned to Clarke. “I’ll look for all three while I’m out, but—”
“If we figure it out, we’ll go look for it,” Clarke said firmly, cutting her off.
The two girls locked eyes. No more words were needed. They both wanted the same thing.
“I’ve got to go,” Lily said, already heading for the ladder. “I don’t think Bellamy will wait for me.”
But just as she reached the first rung, Monty approached her. “Thank you, Lily,” he said softly. There was a flicker of hope in his voice. “For buying us time.”
She gave him a small, tired smile. “It’s going to be alright, Monty,” she whispered. Then, with one last glance at Jasper, she climbed down the ladder.

Chapter Text

The hunting party had been walking for about an hour. Lily wasn’t paying much attention to the path ahead; she was too focused on scanning the ground for the plants she was searching for. The others in the group clearly didn’t appreciate her presence—some thought she was delusional for trying to help Jasper, others acted like they had to protect her, and a few muttered that she’d end up lost just like Trish and Pascal, the couple who had disappeared two days earlier.
Lily didn’t even bother to argue. There was no point. They saw the world differently, and she couldn’t force them to think like her. She just wanted to find what she needed as quickly as possible and get back to the dropship.
At some point, they reached the river, and Lily almost cried from relief when she spotted seaweed clinging to the rocks at the bottom. Without hesitating, she stepped into the water. It reached only her waist when she stood, but she got completely soaked when she knelt down to collect the plant. Her fingers trembled slightly from the cold as she grabbed hold of the slippery strands.
She noticed Bellamy looking at her like she was insane, one eyebrow raised—but before he could say anything, something rustled in the woods nearby. His attention snapped away. He was sure he’d spotted a boar behind the trees, and immediately urged her to move. Lily obeyed, shivering as she pushed herself upright, Atom had been kind enough to reach a hand to pull her out of the water.
They resumed their march through the forest, but the boar had vanished. Still, Bellamy was certain he’d seen it, and since he was their leader, no one questioned him. They followed him deeper into the woods without complaint.
Lily felt the chilly wind cutting through her soaked clothes, clinging to her skin and chilling her to the bone, but she forced herself to ignore it. She needed to find the remaining plants.
It took her another hour to find a bush of yarrow nestled in a clearing dappled with pale light. Her breath caught. She ran to it, kneeling beside the delicate white blossoms. She had seen some yarrow samples in the labs on the Ark, dried and labeled—but seeing them here, alive and blooming in the open, was something else entirely. It was beautiful.
But she didn’t have time to admire it. She had to pick them.
Lily touched the flowers delicately with her fingers, brushing over the petals as if afraid to harm them. They were so white, so impossibly pure. She plucked one and gently crushed it between her fingers, eyes narrowing as she studied it. She knew yarrow was supposed to stop bleeding fast—but could such a candid flower really turn greenish when smashed?
Maybe there’s something with it if this is the plant, she thought, a flicker of panic rising. She wished it were just a plant. She didn’t have time to figure out what other components the Grounders might have used on Jasper’s wound. But as the crushed petals smeared between her fingers, she was disappointed to see no color change at all. Was it not the right one? Or maybe… maybe it was?
With a sigh, Lily began picking the flowers. She couldn’t afford to leave anything behind—not after the promise she’d made. And even if it wasn’t the plant they’d used, yarrow could still prove useful later.
She gently folded the collected blossoms into one of the strips of cloth she had tied around her thigh—makeshift pouches she’d prepared back at camp. With practiced fingers, she tightened the knot to secure them in place, making sure none would scatter during the walk back.
“Don’t stay behind. I won’t be coming back to look for you,” Bellamy’s voice came from behind her, cutting sharply through the silence.
Lily took a breath, steadying herself. “Why am I not surprised?” she muttered, then stood, brushing her wet hair from her face as she secured the flowers deeper into her pocket.
“Because I’m right to think this is a waste of time,” he replied, walking past her with his hatchet in hand, eyes scanning the trees ahead. “You know it’s true.”
Lily let out an annoyed chuckle as she observed his back, “I don’t, but believe what you want.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” He asked, pushing a branch out of his way, “Can’t you see that he won’t make it?” Lily took a breath as she kept up with him. She had already heard those words and she didn’t like to hear them again.
“Until he is alive, he deserves to be helped,” she answered, feeling again the same anger that she had felt that day when she had argued with Marcus for a similar topic. “Everybody deserves to be protected.” He turned to look at her, his dark eyes were not hard this time. That surprised her. It was the first time that he almost observed her softly, not showing a smirk or ready to shoot back a quick remark. They observed each other for a moment, before they felt a rustling sound. Bellamy stepped forward, in front of Lily, looking at the woods closely.
Lily felt her blood freeze. She had not seen what it was, and she was afraid that grounders could attack them again. But Bellamy’s eyes shone when he looked at something in the distance, Lily let out a shaky breath when she saw a boar. It was just a boar.
“Stay close,” Bellamy whispered to her, before he gestured to Atom and the others to make their way in the direction of the boar. Lily quietly followed, checking if the yarrow and the seaweed were still in her pocket, taking a breath of relief when she closed her fingers around the two selfmade packaging.
Bellamy shushed them, stepping forward. “She’s mine,” he whispered. But just as he was about to throw his hatchet, a twig snapped behind them.
They all turned at once. Lily felt her heart hammering in her chest at the thought of Grounders. But when Bellamy threw his weapon toward the noise, the blade embedded itself into the trunk of a tree—and standing just beside it was a little girl.
“Oh God,” Lily muttered, feeling a surge of both worry and relief at the sight of the child. The sudden movement had startled the pig, which bolted and disappeared into the forest, and the four boys who had been with them immediately ran after it.
Lily took a deep breath, placing a hand over her chest as she walked cautiously toward the girl.
“Are you alright?” she asked gently, and the girl gave a small nod. Lily recognized her—she had seen her back at camp. She had always wondered why someone so young had been locked in the Skybox, but she hadn’t yet had the chance to speak to her.
“Who the hell are you?” Bellamy asked, approaching them with narrowed eyes.
“Charlotte,” the girl answered, her body still tense and unmoving.
“I almost killed you,” he said, stepping forward to retrieve his hatchet from the tree. “Why aren’t you back at camp?”
Charlotte looked down, her expression weighed by something heavy. “Well… with that guy who was dying, I just… I couldn’t listen anymore.”
Lily and Bellamy exchanged a look—silent, conflicted.
“There are Grounders out here,” Atom said, his tone firm but not aggressive. “It’s too dangerous for a little girl.”
“I’m not little,” Charlotte replied quickly, almost offended.
Lily watched her closely. She was clearly scared, but doing everything she could to appear brave. She didn’t know what to say to comfort her—but Bellamy, as usual, didn’t seem to have that problem. His gaze had shifted, softened. There was something almost kind in his eyes as he looked at the girl.
“Okay, then…” he said with a small smile, reaching to his side and pulling out his knife. He handed it to her. “But you can’t hunt without a weapon.”
Charlotte looked at the blade, then slowly reached out to take it from him.
“Ever killed something before?” Bellamy asked, his voice calm but serious.
Lily kept her eyes on him. He was behaving so differently from the man she had come to know. Until now, she had only ever seen him show softness toward Octavia.
Charlotte shook her head in response, but Bellamy didn’t seem to mind. He gave her another smile and added, “Who knows? Maybe you’re good at it.”
The girl didn’t seem convinced, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth nonetheless.
In the meantime, Lily could not take her eyes off of Bellamy. She really couldn’t understand him; the more she knew him, the more she got confused. He could be ruthless and violent, unforgiving even. But then he would have these moments of softness and kindness, or times where he would really protect them.
Who was the real Bellamy?
“What?” he asked her, when he noticed Lily staring. She stood quiet for a moment, wondering if she should keep quiet, keep her thoughts to herself. But somehow, she decided against it.
“I can’t figure you out,” she answered with honesty, once Atom and Charlotte walked ahead of them. Bellamy frowned silently for a moment. He was surprised by her words, and his confusion was genuine, or at least that’s what she thought. Then again, the usual mask came back.
“There’s nothing to figure out,” he answered, his face colder than before. Lily observed his face, and somehow she knew he was lying. She didn’t know what he meant, but she knew he was hiding something. More things than she had previously thought. Bellamy was complicated, secretive, and somehow she felt like that part she could understand. And she decided that she didn’t want to push the topic. So she looked away and started to follow where Atom and Charlotte had gone.
“I too can’t figure you out,” he said from behind her, walking not so distant from where Lily was. “I wonder what you are hiding.” Lily frowned, and she had to fight herself not to turn. A quick reaction would have made him think that he was right, and she knew that he had some questions about her.
“What should I be hiding?” she said, trying to sound as calm as possible.
“When the real you will come out, for once,” his words confused her, and this time she turned with a frown. She had thought that he would have talked about Marcus once again, but she would have never guessed such an affirmation.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, stopping on her tracks, making him do the same. He was looking at her with a smirk, but it was not reaching his eyes—he was looking at her inquisitively, not trusting.
“Your little act,” he said, stepping closer. “Playing the good little girl, but there must be a reason why you ended up here.”
“You think I’m lying?” she said quietly, holding his gaze. “My morals had nothing to do with the mistakes I’ve made. What about yours?”
Bellamy didn’t answer. For a moment, he just stared at her—really stared. The sharp edge in his expression softened slightly, shifting into something she couldn’t quite read. His jaw clenched, and the smirk he'd worn seconds earlier was gone, like it had never been there at all.
Lily felt her breath hitch. There was something in his eyes—conflict, maybe. Or guilt. Or the simple, unsettling fact that, for once, he didn’t seem to have a comeback.
But then his gaze flicked upward, toward the trees. And he frowned.
A strange stillness fell over the forest. The wind dropped. The light changed—just slightly. The air seemed… thicker.
“Do you see that?” Atom’s voice broke the quiet, cautious now. “There—look.”
Lily turned, squinting toward the horizon. A strange yellow fog was beginning to seep between the trees—dense, unnatural, silent. It rolled low to the ground, curling around trunks and swallowing the underbrush.
Bellamy took a slow step back. “What the hell is that…”
He didn’t finish. Because by then, the fog was moving fast.
Charlotte whimpered. Atom grabbed her by the arm. “We need to go.”
Bellamy’s eyes snapped to Lily. He didn’t hesitate. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“Run,” he said before pulling her with him.
They ran.
Branches whipped against Lily’s arms as she tore through the underbrush, her breath sharp and shallow in her throat. The forest around them had shifted into chaos—the light now thick with yellow fog, curling low and fast, swallowing everything in its path. The air wasn’t just heavy—there was something wrong.
“Come on!” Bellamy shouted, glancing over his shoulder at the others. His hand was wrapped tightly around Lily’s wrist, pulling her through the forest with sharp, determined strides.“There are caves this way!”
She stumbled over a root but he didn’t let go, yanking her forward before she could fall. The air around them felt wrong—too still, too heavy. It pressed against her skin like a warning.
Then she heard it—Charlotte’s voice, breathless and scared.
“Charlotte!” Lily called.
Bellamy looked back. “I’ve got her,” he said urgently. Then, he turned to Lily, “Go! Keep moving!”
He pushed her ahead, releasing her wrist at last, and turned back to grab Charlotte’s hand. Lily obeyed without thinking—she had to. Her feet pounded the ground as she ran, weaving through trees, ducking under low branches, not even sure if she was breathing anymore.
Leaves slapped her face. Her still damp clothes stuck to her body like ice. She could still hear the others behind her, Atom shouting at the others to keep running, footsteps scattering through the brush. The fog was chasing them like a wave, curling along the forest floor, thick and yellow, swallowing everything it touched.
Then—there. Just ahead, carved into the mossy side of a hill, a black opening.
A cave.
Lily sprinted for it, her whole body aching. She ducked inside without slowing down, stumbling on the slick stone floor and catching herself with one hand against the wall. The air was cool and damp, but breathable. Safe.
A second later, Bellamy rushed in behind her, dragging Charlotte with him. But no one followed. Lily gripped the little girl’s shoulders as she clung to her waist, then felt a slight wave of panic when she heard Atom’s voice calling for Bellamy.
He was still outside—and as the fog reached him, Bellamy began to cough. Lily gasped, pushing Charlotte back toward the rear of the cave, her eyes fixed on Bellamy running inside.
“Bellamy—” she called, just as he stepped in front of her and gently pushed her farther back, toward where Charlotte stood. Their eyes remained locked on the cave entrance. Lily couldn’t see anything beyond it—just a wall of that thick, yellow fog. But luckily, it hadn’t reached them where they stood.
They remained silent for a moment, as if the fog might be drawn by the sound of their voices. Then, after what felt like hours, Bellamy let out a relieved breath.
“I think we’re safe,” he said, turning to look at both Lily and Charlotte. The little girl looked scared, one hand pressed against the rock wall as she asked, “How long will we have to stay here?”
Bellamy and Lily exchanged a glance. There was no way for them to know for sure—they had never seen anything like it before.
“I’m sure we’ll be out soon enough,” Bellamy said, forcing a small smile in the girl’s direction.
Lily backed him up. “We’ve walked for hours,” she said, looking at Charlotte. “We could use a bit of rest. It’ll be a long way back to the dropship.”
Charlotte nodded, still scared, but she decided to do what they were telling her. She walked a little further toward the back of the cave and sat down, drawing her knees up to her chest.
Lily and Bellamy watched the girl for a moment, then Lily turned toward him.
“What the hell is happening?” she whispered, glancing from him to the yellow fog outside.
Bellamy shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said—just before a sharp hiss escaped his lips.
“What is it?” she asked quickly, following his gaze as he looked down at his hand.
The skin on the back of it was slightly reddened. Lily frowned and instinctively reached out, taking his hand in hers to examine it more closely.
“No, I—” he started to protest, but she cut him off.
“You don’t need to act tough all the time,” she said, studying the irritated skin with care.
The redness wasn’t spreading, and there were no blisters—just a flush of color. It didn’t look like a burn, more like a reaction. Still, her breath caught in her throat for a second.
“It’s probably the fog,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over the edge of the redness. But as she kept looking, her expression relaxed slightly. “It’s not getting worse. I think you’re okay.”
When she finally looked up, Bellamy was already watching her. His gaze was softer than she’d ever seen it—quiet, almost thoughtful. But then he looked away, pulling his hand gently from hers.
“We should get some rest,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Lily pressed her lips together, nodding as she shifted her weight back.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “We probably should.”
They all sat down, and waited in silence. Lily had hoped that the fog would have lasted just a couple of hours, but instead the sun had begun to set, until night fell upon them. Lily felt how restless she was becoming. Her mind was thinking about Jasper, as she held the plants in her pocket. She was wasting time, that fog was the last thing she needed.
“Stop moving your leg,” Bellamy said grumpily, but in a whisper to not wake Charlotte from where she was sleeping, “It’s driving me crazy.”
Lily closed her eyes, trying to stop herself from moving, “I’m sorry, I was thinking about Jasper,” she said quietly.
Silence fell between them, heavy and still. The kind of silence that seemed to grow thicker with every second, wrapping around them like the fog outside. From the shadows, the occasional drip of water echoed softly against the stone walls—a reminder of how deep and cold the cave truly was. Charlotte’s slow, even breathing was the only other sound, faint and steady in the darkness.
Then, Bellamy’s voice cut through it—quiet, but not unkind.
“Why do you care so much about that kid?”
The way he asked took her by surprise; there was no judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. And because of that, she found herself answering.
“On the Ark, I knew an old woman,” she began, a small smile forming on her lips at the thought of Grace. “She was my neighbor. I’d known her since I was a child. She always helped me and my mother.”
She would take care of Lily when her mother had to work, give her candies, and read her stories. And when her mother died, Grace had stayed by her side.
“A year ago, I found out she was gravely ill,” Lily continued. “She was alone—her son had been floated many years before. At the time, I already worked as a medical technician, so I knew which medicine could ease her suffering. But since she was old and without hope, no doctor was allowed to give it to her.”
Lily still remembered how badly she had argued with Marcus over it. She’d begged him to help her, insisting that if a Councilor intervened, Grace could get the treatment she needed. But he had refused, telling her that they couldn’t waste medicine on someone who was going to die anyway. That was the law.
Her eyes filled with tears at the memory.
“She had always been so kind to me,” she said, taking a steadying breath. “I just didn’t want her to suffer. So I stole the medicine. But I got caught… Grace died, and I ended up in the Skybox.”
For a few moments, Bellamy said nothing. He looked at her—not with mockery, not with suspicion, but with something softer. Quieter. His brow furrowed just slightly, lips pressed into a thoughtful line.
“You took a risk,” he said finally, his voice low. “For someone else. That’s not a mistake.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes still on her.
Lily blinked, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. Her gaze dropped, a faint breath catching in her chest.
But when she looked at him again, he had turned away, facing the cave wall, his voice even quieter now.
“Not many would’ve done the same.”
Those words hit her differently. And suddenly, she realized how little kindness Bellamy must have received in his life. How hard he had fought to protect his sister. How fast he had lost both her and their mother—for something that hadn’t truly been a mistake by anyone.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, almost without thinking. “About what happened to your mum.”
Bellamy’s shoulders tensed, just barely, and for a second, it seems like he didn’t breathe. Then his jaw shifted slightly, as if he was holding something back. His dark eyes looked down, away from her, fixed on the stone beneath his boots, and in that quiet pause, something fragile passed between them.
Lily didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to.
And just then, a sharp cry pierced the silence. Making them both gasp.
“No!” Charlotte was turning and twisting in her sleep, her voice echoing through the cave. Bellamy was next to her in an instant, gently touching her knees to wake her up.
“Charlotte, wake up,” he said, shaking her slightly, while Lily stood up to get closer. The little girl finally woke up, looking around her frenetically. She must have had a terrible nightmare. Her breath was laboured and she was sweating a little.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered ashamedly.
But Lily shook her head, speaking calmly, “You don’t have to apologize,” she said, kneeling next to Bellamy. He looked at her for a moment, before turning towards Charlotte.
“Does it happen often?” he asked gently, but Charlotte sighed. Lily could see that she felt almost guilty that they had figured out that she was having nightmares. “What are you scared of?” Bellamy asked again, never forcefully, but Charlotte didn’t seem to want to answer and he realized that immediately. “You know what?” He said, “It doesn’t matter,” Lily found herself looking up at him being so gentle with that little girl, and her expression softened without her realizing it.
Maybe it was the dim light or the weight of exhaustion in her limbs, but for a second, the lines that usually sharpened Bellamy’s face didn’t seem so harsh.
“The only thing that matters is what you do about it,” he kept saying.
“But I’m asleep,” Charlotte answered, with a little frown on her face.
Bellamy smiled at her, “Fears are fears,” he said, “Slay your demons when you’re awake, they won’t be there to get you when you’re asleep.” Lily wondered if that was what he was doing. That all of his behaviours were a shield to the many fears he might have. They all had them, but she realized that maybe she had forgotten that Bellamy could be scared too.
“Yeah, but… how?” Charlotte asked quietly.
Bellamy looked down, “You can’t afford to be weak,” he said, “Down here, weakness is death, fear is death.” Lily observed him, Bellamy was a very complex person, he could be quite extreme, and Lily didn’t agree with him many times, but he could also be kind and protective. Maybe they should have stopped buttheads with each other, maybe knowing that his behaviour came from fear would help in finding a way to dialogue with him. To find a middle ground.
“Let me see the knife I gave you,” he said to the little girl, who folded it into her pocket to take out the little weapon. She handed it to him, who held it in between them.
“Now, when you feel afraid,” he said, “You hold tight to that knife and you say, ‘screw you, I’m not afraid’.”
Lily watched as Charlotte clutched the knife, nodding solemnly at Bellamy’s words, repeating them each time more strongly.
“Slay your demons, kid,” he said with a last smile. “Then you’ll be able to sleep.”
Lily didn’t say anything, but her gaze lingered on Bellamy longer than she expected.
There was something heartbreakingly raw in the way he spoke to Charlotte—like a man trying to armor a child against the same world that had already hurt him so much.
You can’t afford to be weak, he had said. And maybe he believed that. Maybe because he felt he had no other choice.
Lily wasn’t sure she agreed. But for once, she didn’t feel the need to argue.
She just sat there quietly, watching Charlotte clutch the knife like a talisman, and this time she understood Bellamy. Her hand moved almost without thinking, reaching out to his shoulder.
Bellamy tensed beneath her touch—his whole body stilling as if unsure how to react. His eyes turned toward her slowly, guarded as always, but not cold. Not this time.
“You don’t have to fight your demons alone,” she whispered. Her voice was low, meant only for him. “On the Ark, we all were alone, but not anymore. We can be better,” his gaze dropped to where her hand still rested on his shoulder for a moment, before looking back at her. And as their eyes met Lily offered him a soft smile.
“Goodnight, Bellamy,” then she pulled her hand back slowly, almost reluctantly, and stood. But just before she turned away, he spoke. Barely audible.
“Goodnight, Lily.”

Chapter Text

“Lily,” Bellamy’s voice woke her up from her slumber, he had his hand on her shoulder, one of his hands to shake her away gently. Lily had rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, feeling how soar her side was feeling after a night on the hard rock. Then suddenly, she realized that the entire night had passed, and that they had not gone back.
Jasper, she thought, putting a hand in her pocket to make sure the plants were still there, gripping them in between her fingers when she found them. But they didn’t appease her mind.
“It’s already morning,” she said, feeling her breath growing short, and her eyes water, “It could be already too late.”
Bellamy hadn’t removed his hand. His thumb shifted slightly against her shoulder, a subtle motion that made her look at him. His eyes were already on her, unreadable, darker than usual in the dim light. For a beat, neither of them spoke. Then he glanced away and withdrew his hand.
“The fog’s cleared,” he said, standing up. “We’ll find the others and head back.”
She didn’t move. Her body was heavy with dread, the kind that made every second feel stretched and fragile. If they returned too late—if Jasper had died during the night while she was sleeping here—
She couldn’t bear the thought.
Bellamy’s voice reached her again, softer now. And when she looked up, he was holding out his hand for her to take.
“He could still be alive,” he said.
Lily hesitated. Still, her hand found his, fingers curling into his palm, and as he helped her up, the warmth of his skin against hers sent a strange jolt through her, noticing how close they were in that moment.
“You don’t believe that,” she murmured, looking at him.
Their eyes locked, their faces only inches apart. Bellamy’s gaze didn’t waver. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t,” he said, his eyes lingered just a moment too long on hers, while she noticed how the tension in his jaw softened when he looked at her.
And then suddenly he let go.
He stepped back without a word, glancing once over his shoulder.
“I’ll wake Charlotte.”
Lily stood there for a moment, her hand still tingling where they were touching before. And her heart beating fast in her chest.
What’s happening? She thought, refusing to follow Bellamy with her gaze. She turned already walking towards the entrance, feeling the need to take some air. She had never been that close to a boy like that before, she felt strange, but not in an uncomfortable way. She looked down at her hand, touching her own fingers, still feeling it warm.
What am I doing? She asked herself, suddenly feeling silly. She was supposed to run back to the dropship to help Jasper, not doing whatever she was doing.
“Alright, let’s go,” Lily felt her body get stiff, when he heard his voice, as he walked closer, passing her by to reach the exit. “Stay back,” he said as Charlotte stopped next to Lily, “I’ll go first.”
Lily tightened her lips, observing him stepping out. That fog seemed to be some kind of toxic, since it had given a reaction to Bellamy’s skin, what if there was still some out there? She observed him stepping out, as she reached out a hand, to bring her arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, to keep her against her.
But Bellamy did not hissed, or screamed, or ran back inside. “It’s all clear,” he told them, and Lily let out a shaky breath. Then she turned to look at Charlotte, giving her an encouraging look, before letting her walk before her.
When Lily stepped outside, she could feel the difference immediately. The air, once thick and suffocating with the weight of the fog, was now crisp against her skin, cool enough to sting her cheeks. She inhaled slowly. It was clearer, lighter—almost deceptively clean. But despite the change, the forest around them looked untouched, as if nothing had happened. The leaves still shimmered with dew, impossibly green under the filtered morning light, and the grass swayed gently with the breeze, innocent and silent.
“Anybody out there?” Bellamy called out, his voice cutting through the trees. The echo bounced back at them with eerie emptiness. “Jones!” he shouted again, louder this time, when no response came.
Lily glanced around uneasily. The silence was too complete. No rustling of animals, no voices, not even birds. It made her stomach tighten.
Then, finally, a voice cracked the tension.
“We’re here!” Jones called from deeper in the woods.
Relief flashed across Bellamy’s face, and Lily exhaled softly as they exchanged a glance. Without hesitation, Bellamy started moving toward the sound, and she followed closely behind. The trees stretched tall above them, casting dappled shadows as the sunlight filtered through the canopy. The air felt strangely hollow, as if the fog had stolen something intangible in the night.
It didn’t take long before figures emerged in the distance—Jones and three others, mud-streaked and tired but alive.
“We lost you in the stew,” Bellamy said, slowing his pace as they approached. “Where’d you go?”
“Made it to a cave down there,” Jones answered, gesturing behind him toward a rocky slope now barely visible between the brush. “We waited it out.”
Bellamy looked down at his hand, frowning as he flexed his fingers. “The hell was that stuff?”
“It could be some kind of fog of radiation,” Lily said, her voice soft but clear, drawing their attention.
They all turned to look at her.
She took a small step forward, brow furrowed as she tried to piece together what little she knew. “Not pure radiation—if it were, we’d have felt burning or nausea by now. But maybe it’s a chemical byproduct of whatever's left down here… gases reacting to sunlight, decaying matter, maybe even remnants from old weapons.”
Her words hung in the air, thoughtful yet uneasy, as the others listened in silence.
Bellamy shifted slightly, his gaze still on his own hand, now clean. Then, without warning, his eyes snapped up.
“Where’s Atom?”
The question sliced through the group like a blade.
Lily blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Jones looked at him with no answer, and Bellamy’s eyes changed with worry.
“We… we got separated when the fog rolled in,” one of them said, not quite meeting Bellamy’s eyes.
Bellamy took a step forward, his voice harder now. “You lost him?”
“No!” Jones protested quickly. “He said he’d follow… but he never made it to the cave.”
A beat of silence. Then another. The birds were still gone.
Lily felt a knot form in her chest. She looked at Bellamy, whose jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense.
“We have to look for him,” he said, already turning toward the trees. “He could still be out there.”
Lily stepped forward, “I’ll go this way,” she said, Bellamy nodded, sharing a look with her, “Charlotte,” she said turning her attention to the girl, “You stay with Bellamy, alright?”
Lily stepped deeper into the forest, leaving the group behind and following an invisible line drawn by instinct. The air was still cold, damp with dawn, and filled with that unsettling silence that refused to lift.
“Atom?” she called out, her voice more uncertain than she would have liked. No answer. Only the soft rustle of her shoes against the wet grass.
She kept walking, eyes scanning between the trees, checking every patch of shadow, every bush. From time to time, she looked up, hoping to glimpse a figure among the branches or hear the faintest movement. But nothing.
Then, suddenly, a scream. A high-pitched cry, broken by terror.
Charlotte, she thought with dread.
Lily froze for half a second, then turned and sprinted toward the sound, adrenaline driving her legs. Branches whipped past her, the sharp edge of fear slicing into her ribs.
She hadn’t gone far when she saw a figure moving fast through the trees—Bellamy. He was heading toward the scream too, and when he spotted her, their eyes met. They veered together in the same direction, running toward the girl.
They found her standing in a clearing, looking in front of her as she screamed, her shoulders trembling violently.
And then they saw him.
“Son of a bitch, Atom!” Bellamy exclaimed, running towards him. Lily followed immediately, gasping in horror at the sight in front of her. Atom was laying down, his skin was blistered, raw, and oozing. Large patches of flesh are burned away, exposing raw, bleeding wounds. He was still alive, but his breathing was ragged, shallow, each gasp sounding more like a struggle than a sign of life.
He wasn’t speaking—he couldn't. Only faint moans escape his lips, almost animalistic in their pain. His eyes, barely open, were clouded with agony, Lily wasn’t sure he was not fully aware of his surroundings. Every twitch, every strained sound, speaks of unbearable suffering.
“Kill…me…” he was whispering, Lily’s eyes sank when she realized what he was asking, “Kill…me…”
Her stomach twisted painfully at the sound of his voice—so faint, so broken, yet firm. He was begging for release.
Lily’s breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t just pain. This was something beyond human endurance. And in his eyes—barely open, clouded by suffering—there was no more fear. Only a desperate plea for mercy.
She had never thought she would have witnessed something like that. She never thought someone could suffer that much, to the point that he didn’t want to be helped.
And Bellamy—he just stood there, knelt frozen next to Atom. She could feel it in his posture, the battle inside him, knowing that he had to do something warring with the horror of what that something had to be.
Lily took a few steps towards him, before reaching out so that her fingers could tight on his shoulder. He let out a shaky breath at the touch, but he didn’t move away. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if there was something she could do to help Atom, but his body was too damaged.
Lily felt her eyes filled with tears, but when she heard him choke and trying to breathe, she dropped on her knees, next to Bellamy, so that she could touch Atom’s hair.
“I…can’t…breathe…” he whispered with fatigue.
“Sshh… It’s going to be alright,” she whispered, trying to be as sweet as possible, and to not let any tears slip to her eyes. He was already scared. As she stroked his dark hair, she heard the others approach, gasping as they saw the scene.
“Don’t be afraid,” Lily heard Charlotte say, but she didn’t turn away from Atom.
“Go back to camp,” Bellamy said from next to her, and Lily heard some steps getting far from them, “Charlotte, you too.” He kept saying, then after a moment he moved closer to Lily.
“Lily, you don’t have to stay,” Bellamy whispered, only now she noticed the knife in his hand. Lily looked up, and their eyes met—his were full of conflict, of reluctant resolve. He was going to do it. She could see it, the way his jaw tightened, the tremble in his breath, he was scared, even if he was trying to hide it.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. But Lily reached out, her hand lightly resting on his arm, just above the arm that was holding the knife.
“You don’t have to be alone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
“I’ll stay.”
Bellamy didn’t answer, but from the way he was looking at her, she knew that he didn’t want her to leave.
Lily went back to look at Atom, touching his hair again, but the pain in his face was unbearable. He kept asking them to kill him, it was hurting him only breathing. Lily lulled him once again.
She could feel Bellamy still frozen beside her, the blade unmoving in his hand. He wanted to do it—she could see that. But something in him held back. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it could be fear. Lily didn’t ask herself too much, she could not blame him for not doing right away.
Her hand moved slowly through Atom’s hair, careful, almost maternal. The way her mother used to do when she had nightmares on the Ark. Atom didn’t have a mother here. He didn’t have anything but the sharp air in his lungs and the burn on his skin.
“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered, even though the both of them knew it was a lie. But they exchanged a look and Atom let out another shaky breath.
She could hear Bellamy breathing beside her now. Unsteady. Quiet. Still not moving.
Then—footsteps getting closer. And when Lily looked up, she saw Clarke kneeling down at the other side of Atom. Her eyes were wide, shocked by what she was seeing.
“I heard screams,” she said, scanning Atom’s body.
“Charlotte found him,” Bellamy said from next to Lily, his voice shaky, “I sent her back to camp.”
Clarke looked down once again, “It was the fog,” Lily said quietly, “Can we do something?” she found herself asking the other girl, hoping that maybe she could find some kind of solution to save Atom. But she was sadly not surprised when Clarke shook her head, and even if she knew that they could not help him, Lily could not help but let the tears in her eyes free to run down her cheeks.
She had her eyes closed, when she heard Clarke take a breath, “Okay,” she was saying sweetly, “I’m gonna help you, alright? Just look over Lily,” Lily opened her eyes at the mention of her name, and sharing a quick glance with Clarke, she returned to Atom, forcing a little, sweet smile, hoping that that little gesture could give him some kind of comfort.
Lily kept stroking Atom’s hair, as she heard Clarke humming a calming toon. But then from the corner of her eyes, Lily noticed that Clarke was taking the dagger from Bellamy’s knife. And Lily had to do all she could to keep a calming expression, and not let more tears fall from her eyes.
And then Atom let out a last final breath and a little gasp when Clarke pushed the knife in his neck. And Lily felt her lips quiver when she saw Atom close his eyes for the last time.
She had not had the chance to share many words with Atom, but she started to cry like she had known him forever. That should not have happened, they didn’t know about that fog. They did not know anything about the Earth. How could they prepare themselves? Will other people die?
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her movements slow, almost automatic. The silence that followed felt deafening, just the wind through the trees and the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them all.
Lily didn’t move. She kept her hand on Atom’s head, until he stopped his breathing. He was dead.
Clarke was taking deep breaths, as Bellamy had his hands closed in fists, his knuckles getting pale.
“We have to go back to Jasper,” Clarke said with a quiet yet urgent voice. Lily looked at her, her eyes widening at the mention of his name. They could not lose Jasper as well.
Suddenly Finn and Wells appeared in the clearing, they both observing Atom’s body on the ground.
“Oh my God…” Finn muttered, as Bellamy passed a hand over his face before standing up.
“Can you help me get him back?” He asked the two boys in front of them. Lily turned to look up at Bellamy’s face, he was feeling sorrow, even if he was trying to hide it. But she was glad that both Finn and Wells nodded with no hesitation, immediately talking to themselves to understand how they could manage to move Atom’s body.
“Lily,” Clarke called her gently, gesturing for her to go speak a little further from where they were. Lily nodded her head, before turning to look at Bellamy again, his eyes still clouded with too many emotions, for them to pick all of them up. But she reached out, gently squeezing his wrist. His lips got in a tight line, nodding his head as if he was thanking her, before observing her as she got up to go to Clarke.
“We’ve figured out what the poultice was made of,” Clarke said to her as Lily got closer, even if she noticed that Clarke was avoiding looking at Atom, probably trying to stay focused.
“What, really?” Lily asked with a hint of hope. Clarke nodded her head.
“Well…,” she said, “Wells figured it out.” Lily looked over to where Wells was, he had done it. She was so glad he did.
“What was it?” she asked curiously.
“Seaweed,” at Clarke’s answer Lily started to fold into her pocket.
“God, I’m so relieved,” she gasped, taking out the packaging with the seaweed in it. Clarke smiled at her, taking it from her fingers.
“I’ll put it with the others,” she said, pulling her backpack from behind her back so that she could open it.
“That’s why you were out here?” Lily asked observing Clarke put her seaweed with the one she had already.
The girl nodded, “We had been blocked for the night,” Clarke explained.
“Where?” Lily asked with wide eyes.
“In an old vehicle,” she answered, pulling her backpack back on, “What about you?”
Lily turned to glance towards Bellamy, who was helping Finn in moving Atom, “Bellamy, Charlotte and I hid in a cave,” Lily answered, looking back at Clarke, who nodded silently. Her eyes lingered on Atom too for a moment longer. Then she took a deep breath.
“I was thinking that…” Clarke said, “Maybe if we boil the seaweed, it can work faster.”
Lily didn’t answer right away. Her mind going over everything she knew from medical tech and the limited training on herbal compounds they had on the Ark.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Boiling it in water should extract the active compounds faster than just applying it raw. It becomes more bioavailable that way—easier for the body to absorb, especially if we make him drink it.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Clarke reflected out loud, before taking another breath, raising her head high. “Alright. Let’s brew some seaweed tea.” She said and they soon started to make their way back to the dropship.
They had walked for long the previous day, but somehow the way back felt even longer.
No one spoke much. Clarke walked ahead, focused and composed, her hand gripping the backpack where the seaweed was stored. Wells kept close behind her. Finn and Bellamy carried Atom’s body in silence, their steps synchronized in a strange, solemn rhythm. Charlotte trailed near Lily, quiet as ever, but no longer trembling—just watching the trees as they passed.
Lily felt the weight of what had happened to Atom and what was happening to Jasper heavy on her. She wished there had been a way to help Atom, maybe if the Ark had sent some doctors with them there would have been a way to save him. But sadly she knew that she was just making excuses. That fog was made of radiation, or acids, and the Atom could have been exposed to it for the entire night. Lily realized how easy it was for her to blame the Ark for everything.
And I will probably keep doing it, she thought, looking up as she always did. She still hated them for having thrown them into the unknown, into a rotten world.
Lily’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She could still feel the texture of Atom’s burnt skin under her hands, the way his breath shook before it disappeared. She didn’t want to remember, but the images clung to her like damp air.
Charlotte turned to look at her for a second, then faced forward again. Lily gently reached out and squeezed her shoulder once before letting go. The girl didn’t say anything, but she leaned into the touch just slightly before continuing on.
Lily then raised her eyes toward the forest canopy. The sun was high now, cutting through the branches in thin, golden slices. It looked so peaceful from above. So indifferent.
Please let Jasper hold on, she thought. Let this tea work.
It was already dark when they finally made it back to camp.
The clearing was lit by a few campfires, small flames flickering as clusters of kids sat around them, talking in hushed voices or just staring at the ground. The familiar shape of the dropship stood tall at the center, outlined by the glow.
“Hey, everyone! They’re back!” someone said from the crowd as they got closer.
“We’ve gotta get to Jasper,” Clarke said immediately, and Lily nodded, keeping up with her. Then Clarke turned to Finn, “We’ll need boiled water to make the medicine.”
“Get Clarke and Lily whatever they need,” Bellamy’s voice made Lily turn as he was speaking with one of his followers. Then he looked towards her, giving a little nod as their eyes met. Lily’s mouth curved up in gratitude as the guy came closer to her.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“You’ve got a knife?” At her words the boy nodded, and she added, “Good, I’ll need that.” Then she turned to Clarke, gesturing for her to give her the seaweed. “Let’s try to stew it first, it’ll take twenty minutes.” Clarke handed her the packaging.
“I’ll go to Jasper,” she said, “To make sure he’s alright.” And with no further words, they separated. Clarke and Finn headed toward the dropship, Wells had said he would dig a grave for Atom, and Lily followed the guy Bellamy had sent to help.
As she walked, she noticed Octavia moving toward her brother. He tried to hold her back, but she pushed past him and knelt on the ground.
What did you do to Atom? Octavia had asked Bellamy the day before, storming into her brother’s tent in fury. And now Lily finally understood that there had probably been something between Octavia and Atom. Her heart sank for her, thinking of how hard it must have been to lose someone you cared about.
Lily’s gaze shifted to Bellamy, watching how defeated he looked as he stood there, observing his sister kneel.
“There’s nothing I could do—”
But Octavia stopped his explanation. “Don’t,” she said, raising a hand. Then, after covering Atom’s body again, she got back to her feet, avoiding her brother’s touch and gaze, and walked toward the dropship.
“O, please…” he called, but she didn’t even turn. Lily dropped her gaze, taking in the interaction. Bellamy would’ve done anything for his sister, and it was hard for her to see the pain in his eyes.
“Let’s go,” she said to the boy beside her, quickly making their way to the side of the camp where they boiled water.
Lily had him fetch some while she used his knife to cut the seaweed as finely as possible. When he returned, she nodded and carefully poured the water into a dented pot they had scavenged days before. She dropped the chopped seaweed inside and set the pot over the small fire they’d built, adjusting the stones to keep the flames low and steady.
The smell was strange—salty, earthy, slightly bitter—but it reminded her of the Ark’s hydroponic lab, and that gave her a faint sense of comfort. She stirred slowly with a piece of metal rod, watching as the water darkened and the thick strands of seaweed began to soften and unravel.
“Keep it boiling, but not too fast,” she told the boy. “We need time for it to release everything.”
He nodded without question. Lily knelt by the pot, eyes fixed on the bubbling water. The fire cracked softly, and for a moment, the rest of the camp faded. She didn’t know if it would work—but it was the best they could do. And right now, it had to be enough.
After twenty minutes, Lily quickly poured the mixture into a cup and walked as fast as she could to the dropship.
“Clarke!” she called, looking up at the ladder.
Finn appeared above. “I’ve got it,” she said, starting to climb carefully, making sure not to spill the medicine.
Finn reached out his hand. “Here, I got you,” he said gently, taking the cup from her fingers as she climbed higher. He immediately passed it to Clarke. Lily climbed the last steps and knelt beside Monty, her breath still short.
“Is he alright?” she asked, and Monty gently rubbed her back to calm her.
“He will be,” Clarke promised, helping Jasper drink from the cup while Octavia wiped his chin. Lily let out a relieved breath at the sight of him moving. He was still in and out of consciousness, but at least he was responsive.
“I’m really sorry about Atom,” Clarke said softly to Octavia. The girl stiffened, a flash of sorrow crossing her eyes, but she remained composed, unwilling to show weakness.
“I guess we’re gonna have to get used to people dying down here, aren’t we?” she said. The defeat in her voice couldn’t be denied—they all felt it. It hadn’t even been a week since they’d landed, and they’d already lost Atom. Trina and Pascal had disappeared, and Jasper had nearly died. There was nothing they could do. Earth was dangerous, and they were left to face it alone.
“But not you, you hear me?” Octavia said gently, looking down at Jasper and stroking his arm, “You’re not allowed to die.”
Now they could only wait and hope the medicine would help. Lily had volunteered to take the first watch, as Clarke had gone to speak with Wells, who was still dealing with Atom’s body. Monty, Octavia, and Finn also chose to stay awake. They all gathered quietly around Jasper, waiting for something to change.
“Clarke told you?” Monty asked after a while, not long after Clarke had left. Lily looked at him with a small frown, shaking her head.
“Yesterday Murphy tried to kill Jasper,” he said, his eyes flicking toward the ladder, as if worried someone might be climbing up. “Octavia and I managed to keep him away.”
“Murphy is violent,” Finn said, leaning his back against the dropship wall.
Lily let out a shaky breath. They all were prone to violence. The more the days passed, the more she realized it. And with more danger coming, they needed structure. But how could they have it, when nobody wanted it?
“Murphy listens to Bellamy,” Lily said, adjusting the blanket over Jasper’s chest. “I think he can keep him in check.”
Finn let out a quiet chuckle. “You think?”
“Isn’t that the same guy who wanted to kill Jasper?” Monty asked with a frown, glancing briefly at Octavia. But she didn’t seem eager to argue.
“When we got back, he told everyone to help us with anything,” Lily replied, remembering with gratitude Bellamy’s change of heart. “I don’t think he’ll let Murphy—or anyone else—hurt Jasper now.”
Finn studied her for a moment, then reached into the bag next to him. “Let’s drink to that,” he said, pulling out a small bottle. Monty’s eyes widened.
“Is that booze?” he asked. Finn nodded and took a sip, then passed it to Monty. Lily was shocked. Where had he found it? Alcohol was forbidden on the Ark—they said it was toxic. Of course, she knew some people in the black market drank it anyway, but she had never tried it.
“Smooth,” Finn said, coughing slightly. Monty took a sip and handed it to Octavia. She drank straight from the bottle, her face twisting.
“Disgusting. I love it,” she muttered, then passed it to Lily. She looked at it uncertainly, and Octavia smiled at her.
“Come on,” she said, nudging her, “You earned it.”
Lily chuckled and decided to give it a try. She sniffed it first—the smell wasn’t pleasant—then raised it to her lips and took a swallow. It was bitter and strong, burning down her throat like fire.
“Oh my god!” she coughed. “What the hell is this?” The others burst into laughter, and Finn leaned over to take the bottle from her hand.
“The hell if I know,” he said, chuckling again.
“Can I get a hit of that?” a voice said suddenly, making them all spin around, eyes wide.
“Jasper!” Octavia exclaimed, rushing toward him. Lily let out a little giggle of joy, seeing him fully awake and aware. She reached out and touched his hair, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
He’s alive, she thought happily.
“Let’s start with the soft stuff,” Monty said as he looked at his friend.
Finn turned to take some water and gently helped Jasper drink a little.
“Welcome back, buddy,” he said with a smile. Jasper was still in pain, but he reached out his hand for Monty to take, and the boy did so immediately, gripping it with both hands.
“Was that a dream, or did I get speared?” he asked, laying his head back on the pillow.
“You’ll have a very impressive scar to prove it,” Clarke’s voice caught their attention as she approached where Jasper was lying, stopping between Finn and Lily.
“My saviors,” he said, looking at the two of them, and that only made their smiles widen.
“Thank you,” Clarke said. “For not dying. I don’t think I could’ve taken that today.”
Lily’s thoughts drifted to Atom and what Clarke had to do, and that memory made her drop her gaze. But Jasper spoke again.
“Well,” he said, “I’ll try not to die tomorrow, too, if that’s cool.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lily replied, and they all began to chuckle.
Then Octavia reached out to touch Jasper’s arm, catching his attention.
“Oh, hello!” he said, especially happy to see her, sharing a smile with her. Then, suddenly feeling tired, he decided to go back to sleep.
Lily could hardly believe it—they had done it. They had managed to save him.
Relieved, she stepped out of the dropship to get some fresh air. She took a deep breath as she walked outside, looking up at the stars in the sky, finding the scene almost like a reward. She had really thought they couldn’t make it. But Jasper had been strong. He had fought like a warrior to stay alive.
“Looking happy,” Bellamy’s voice made her turn to the side. He was sitting down, his back against a tree and his arms resting over his knees.
“Jasper’s awake,” she said, turning to him with a happy smile. “He talked, and I’m sure he’ll be on his feet before we think.”
Bellamy nodded silently, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at her.
“Good job,” he said with a small nod.
Lily observed him in silence for a moment before speaking again. “Thank you, though,” she added, catching him off guard. “For changing your mind about Jasper.”
“Seemed like the right thing to do,” he answered, looking away, his jaw tightening. “I’ve had enough of death for today.”
Lily hesitated, noticing the pain in his eyes. She debated whether to keep quiet or say something, but the look he gave her pushed her to speak.
“Atom wouldn’t blame you, Bellamy,” she said honestly. “You tried to help everyone out there.”
He seemed moved by her words, even if unconvinced. But leadership wasn’t easy—and maybe that weight he carried meant he could become a good one.
“Was that a compliment?” he asked, trying to deflect.
Lily obliged, letting out a soft chuckle and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I give credit where it’s due,” she said with a small shrug, her voice gentle.
Bellamy let out a short breath—something between a scoff and a laugh. “Guess I’ll take it.”
There was a pause, quiet and oddly comfortable, as she studied his face and posture. Then Lily added, “You know, there’s something I’m glad about.”
He frowned slightly, but seemed genuinely curious. “What?”
A new smile spread across her lips. “That maybe I was wrong about you.”
He blinked a couple of times, as if trying to make sure he’d heard her right. Then, with another small laugh, he cocked his head.
“Maybe?”
She nodded. “I’m still thinking about it.”
“Oh, are you?” he asked with a grin.
Lily nodded again, strangely enjoying the conversation.
“I’m quite inquisitive,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “So I’ve heard.”
They both chuckled, their eyes meeting again as silence fell between them—comfortable, this time. And in that stillness, Lily felt that strange feeling rise again, so she decided to return to the dropship.
“I… emm…” she said, pointing behind her, “I think I’ll go lie down. Try to get some sleep.”
Bellamy nodded at her words but didn’t say anything. Lily smiled, suddenly feeling embarrassed, and turned to head back inside. But then she stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“Try to sleep a bit,” she said, making him nod again. “Goodnight,” she added, turning to walk away—and as she did, she was almost sure she heard Bellamy chuckle.

Chapter Text

The scream ripped through the early morning stillness.
Lily shot up, her heart racing, breath caught halfway in her throat. Her body moved before her thoughts could form—she was already turning, her eyes searching for Jasper.
Panic tightened in her chest as her gaze locked on the figure a few feet away. But Jasper was lying there peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a shallow but steady rhythm.
He’s alright, she thought with a breath of relief, and for a moment she believed she might have just dreamt the scream. But the rush of motion all around her made it clear that something had really happened.
The others were stirring in fits and starts—startled voices murmuring, blankets kicked off, limbs untangling as they looked around in panic.
“What is happening?” Monty asked from next to Octavia, who, with wide eyes, only shook her head. Clarke and Finn glanced at each other with terror before getting up to follow the others outside.
Lily felt her blood run cold in her veins as a dull pressure built in her chest. Her hands trembled slightly—not from the chill of the morning, but from something deeper, primal, instinctive. Her limbs felt too light and too heavy at the same time.
What is going on? she asked herself again and again, each repetition louder inside her mind. Was the fog back? Were the Grounders attacking? Her legs were shaking, but somehow she found the strength to follow the others.
They were all gathering outside, huddling close to one another as if proximity alone could offer protection. Some still wore the dazed expressions of sleep, others looked around frantically, eyes darting from tree to tree as if expecting something—or someone—to burst through the shadows. The tension vibrated in the air like a taut string, and voices overlapped in a mess of questions, gasps, and half-spoken names.
“Stay back,” one of Bellamy’s guys was saying, but Octavia was the one who pushed forward.
“Where’s my brother?” she demanded, eyes locked on the boy blocking her path, as Clarke followed close behind.
“He’s trying to figure out what happened,” the boy replied, stepping in front of her with every move she made, keeping her from getting past him.
Lily let out a shaky breath. She didn’t like any of this—something felt wrong.
“Who screamed?” Clarke asked.
“Roma,” the boy answered. “She was supposed to be on guard.”
The clearing was heavy with tension, every breath short and uncertain. No one dared to speak too loudly.
Lily stood still, her arms wrapped around herself, as if the pressure in her chest could be held in place with enough force. All around her, the others whispered in low voices, eyes flicking toward the trees. Someone mentioned Grounders. Someone else cursed under their breath.
“Where’s Wells?” Clarke asked, looking around, her eyes wide with worry.
“Wasn’t he on guard as well?” Finn added from beside her.
Lily scanned every face she could see, and there was no sign of Wells. Her body was trembling almost uncontrollably. Her nails dug into the sleeves of her shirt, as if she could anchor herself to something real. She had to do all she could not to let her legs give in.
Then a sudden rustling sound came from the side, and everyone turned toward it. Lily let out a shaky breath when she noticed Bellamy emerging from the woods, with Murphy, Roma, and two other boys behind him. But the brief sense of relief vanished the moment she saw Bellamy’s expression. He was pale, and his eyes seemed darker, like a shadow had settled into them. Sorrow weighed heavily on his features as he looked at them all.
“What happened?” someone yelled from behind Lily, who took a step forward, her gaze lingering on Bellamy’s frame. He didn’t answer.
“Bellamy,” Clarke said, walking toward him. “What is going on?”
Lily watched him take a deep breath before the same mask he was used to wearing slipped back into place.
“We’ve been attacked,” he said, his voice loud and steady so that everyone could hear him.
Gasps erupted from the crowd as Lily pushed a little closer to the front, trying to hear every word.
“The Grounders killed one of us during the night.”
Lily’s blood turned to ice at those words. But before panic could take hold, Bellamy spoke again, more firmly.
Then he called out to four boys, telling them to check the woods and make sure no one was lurking nearby, while he ordered everyone to get back inside the dropship.
“Who died?” Clarke asked, stepping closer to him.
Bellamy didn’t answer right away. Lily noticed how his jaw clenched, how his eyes briefly avoided Clarke’s. That hesitation terrified her more than anything he had said.
“It’s Wells.”
Lily felt like her lungs had stopped the instant the name left Bellamy’s lips.
Wells was dead? It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t have been.
She turned to look at Clarke—her eyes were brimming with tears, her head shaking in disbelief.
“No,” Clarke sobbed, moving toward the woods. “Where?” she asked, and Bellamy tried to stop her, but she passed him anyway, followed by Finn.
Lily didn’t move. Every limb of her body felt stuck, frozen between the cold air and the impossibility of what she had just heard. Her breath was shallow, her vision blurred.
This cannot be, she thought, pushing her blonde hair back with a trembling hand.
“Lily, go back to the dropship,” Bellamy’s voice made her look up. He hadn’t spoken harshly, but firmly enough to make the others see that he had everything under control.
“But…” she said with a trembling voice, so she took a breath to steady herself. “Wells–”
Bellamy shook his head. “You don’t need to see that,” he said, looking briefly at his group just a few feet away. Lily didn’t know what to do. She was scared of the Grounders hiding in the woods without them noticing, maybe ready to attack. But she knew Wells. He had been gentle with her, and now he was dead.
“Lily,” he called her again, shaking her out of her thoughts. Her breathing was shaky and uneven as their eyes met. Bellamy looked at her for a moment before looking at someone behind Lily’s back. “Octavia,” he called for his sister. Lily just felt her hands shake as Octavia’s steps approached them.
“What is it?” she asked her brother.
“Bring back Lily,” he said to the girl, “and make sure no one leaves.”
“Alright,” Octavia muttered, gently taking Lily by her shoulders. “Come, Lily,” she whispered. “We’re going to be safe.”
Lily let Octavia pull her towards the dropship, but the weight of another death felt so heavy on her heart. She was tired of losing people, of being scared. They had lost so many people in so little time. Would they ever be safe? Would they ever know the true meaning of being safe? She was not sure.
On the Ark, it was very easy to go against the law, and there was no pardon for even the smallest mistake. And now, even if they were free, they were surrounded by things and people that could kill them.
It was so strange to think that Wells was gone. They hadn’t even spoken when they went back to camp the night before. I didn’t say goodbye, she thought sadly. The same thought that she had when she lost her mother and Grace. There was no way of knowing what would have been their last moments. That was death, she knew, but knowing it didn’t help with the void she felt every time someone died. And it would only get worse. That situation was bringing all of them closer, and who once had only been someone sent to Earth with her was becoming something close to a friend.
This shouldn’t be happening, Lily thought as she pushed her blonde hair back with her shaky hands in a vain attempt to stop trembling, but there was no use.
The air was heavy with fear and shock. People were scared, knowing that Grounders had been so close to them during the night. And fear was making them restless—all of them. Some people said that they had to leave; others that they had to fight. But every idea seemed so stupid and irrelevant to Lily. That was the Grounders’ home. They knew the territory better than they ever could.
When Bellamy got back, Murphy was behind him as they stepped into the dropship. Lily got up slowly from her sitting position next to the wall, worried since she could not see Clarke and Finn. But Bellamy seemed unharmed, so maybe nothing else had happened.
“What are we gonna do, Bellamy?” someone asked from the other side of the dropship.
“We need to leave!” another shouted, but Bellamy shook his head.
“We are not leaving,” he said firmly, not caring who was starting to complain. “But we need to make this place safer and be sure that no one will ever come that close like it happened last night.”
“What are we gonna do?” Octavia asked. On her face, a little frown had appeared. Bellamy and Murphy shared a look, then he turned and spoke again.
“We’ll build a wall,” he said in a strong voice. “All around camp, and we’ll set guards and patrols during day and night. Something like what happened tonight is not going to happen ever again.” People seemed to agree with his idea, and Lily noticed how they slowly got more confident and how their trust in Bellamy was growing with every word. “I’ll arrange everything from now on,” he kept saying. “I need people to come with me to find the wood we need. Nobody goes too far, and never alone.”
Everyone nodded their heads in understanding.
“And while we are at it, I’ll arrange a group that will take guard under Murphy. For the rest of you, stay inside the dropship until we are all back.”
Lily too felt like agreeing with his plan, especially because she could not think of any other way to arrange the current situation. Many people were angry, like a group that was ready to go out hoping to find a Grounder to kill; others were terrified. Lily had even seen Charlotte crying silently in a corner of the dropship when Octavia was bringing her inside. A wall could really save them, or keep them safe. Or was it also an illusion? Lily dreaded finding out.
As they all started to calm down after Bellamy’s speech, Lily got closer to the young man who was speaking with Murphy, giving other orders.
“Bellamy,” she called. Lily felt her voice so quiet she wasn’t even sure she had spoken at all, but Bellamy turned in her direction. His gaze, strangely, wasn’t hard like it used to be. “Where’s Clarke?” she asked, her fingers still trembling, but she was doing all her best not to show it.
Bellamy took a breath. “She, Jones, and Finn are burying Wells,” he explained. And as she moved her gaze to look at the entrance of the dropship, he was quick to speak again. “No, Lily,” he said, almost foreseeing her thoughts.
“Wells was Clarke’s best friend,” she said, looking down. “She must be devastated now.”
“So what’s the point for you to go there?” he asked, but there was no harshness in his voice, and his tone made her look up at him.
“She’s my friend,” she answered. “And Wells was my friend too.”
“Lily—”
“I don’t want to intrude on what you have to do,” she said. Lily was not even sure if she felt brave enough to do what she wanted to do. But she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her mother or Grace. She wasn’t even able to say goodbye to her father. But she wanted to do it with Wells, and support Clarke if she could, even if she was terrified of going out.
“I’ll go alone,” she kept saying, but he let out a breath, shaking his head in silence as his hands went to his hips.
“You really want to go?” he asked, after a moment of silence. Lily bit her lip, but finally she nodded her head. Bellamy studied her face, as if he was observing every inch of it, then he turned.
“Murphy, bring Lily to Clarke,” he said to the other boy, who frowned, looking from Bellamy to Lily.
“Are you sure?” he asked incredulously.
“Do it,” he said firmly, gesturing towards the entrance, before turning to Lily. “Stay with Murphy,” he said, his voice quiet. Lily nodded, and with a last glance at Bellamy, she followed Murphy out of the dropship.
As she stepped outside, the woods had never seemed so dark. It was morning and it was a clear day, but the trees seemed threatening like never before. It was like she could not see properly. Has it always been like that?
“Come on, sweetie,” Murphy’s voice made her look at him, who was taking the knife from another boy sitting on the ground, looking closely at the trees. “We don’t have all day.” He then started to walk towards the woods. Lily looked down at her trembling hands once more, but then she closed her fingers into a fist and decided to follow Murphy. The path she already knew. She had taken it already in the last week, and yet everything felt so foreign.
“You look pale,” she heard him say from a few feet ahead of her. “Why are you doing this if you’re scared shitless?”
Lily looked at him as she followed. She was not ashamed of being scared; that was the most natural thing. “I am scared, but…” she lowered her gaze, “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Dead people don’t hear you,” he said, but his tone was not aggressive, and it only made her frown in curiosity as she went back to look at him.
“Have you lost someone before?” At her question, Lily noticed his posture become stiff. Had she asked something too personal? Was she being too blunt? Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him stop in his tracks and turn to her with a dark glare.
“Who hasn’t, sweetie?” he hissed, making her shiver as he stepped closer to her.
“I’m sorry,” she was quick to say. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m sure you are,” he said, stopping right in front of her, leaning forward, but Lily didn’t back away. “Pretty eyes and kind words. How far is this kindness going to take you, I wonder.”
She had overstepped. She should have thought more before asking something. Murphy was unpredictable, and he seemed to hold in himself such rage that could burst out at any moment.
“I hope as long as I can go,” she answered, looking up at him, her voice always calm. “I didn’t want to make you angry,” Lily said truthfully. “It was stupid on my part to ask you that.”
He frowned at her words, observing her face closely, but he didn’t walk away.
“You ask too many questions,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its edge. “Not everything needs fixing, Lily.”
Then he tilted his head slightly, a flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. “And don’t look at me like I’m your next patient. Come on.”
She really felt sorry as she observed him moving away from her. She should have been more careful. Maybe she was some kind of privileged; at least she had the luck not to lose anyone by floating. But many of them had not shared her same experience, like Clarke, or Bellamy. Probably Murphy had the same experience. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she dared not speak anymore until they reached the clearing where they had decided to bury Atom. Wells had chosen that place for the two kids who had died during the landing.
Clarke was kneeling on the ground, where they had already buried Wells. Finn was standing right behind her, while Jones observed everything from afar. Lily stepped into the clearing, passing by Murphy so that she could go and kneel next to Clarke. Lily’s heart sank seeing her crying silently, her usual composure never leaving her even in times like that.
“I’m sorry, Clarke,” she whispered after a moment of silence.
The other girl nodded her head, as another tear rolled down her cheek. “They didn’t even let him have time to defend himself,” Clarke said quietly. “They cut two of his fingers and then stabbed him in the throat.”
Lily’s lips tightened into a thin line, thinking of Wells alone in the woods surrounded by Grounders. She hoped that he did not suffer and she did all she could not to think about how scared he must have felt in those last moments. They had all been so naive to think that they could take watch on their own, but Lily too thought that it was enough.
If he wasn’t alone, Wells could still be alive, she thought, touching the ground, freshly moved, where they had buried Wells.
“I’ve been horrible to him,” Clarke whispered, making Lily turn to her. She was not understanding—weren’t they best friends? Had something happened? “And he was only trying to protect me,” then she quickly dried her tears, getting up from where she was kneeling. Lily didn’t have the heart to tell her anything; she didn’t know what had happened between them, and she didn’t want to speak out of turn, like she had already done with Murphy before.
As Clarke got up and walked away, Lily shared a look full of sadness with Finn, before he turned to follow Clarke. Lily observed where they had disappeared for a moment, wishing for all of that to be a nightmare, and that she had yet to wake up. But she wasn’t, because she was not dreaming, and the fear and the pain filled her once more.
“Come on, sweetie,” Murphy’s voice came from behind her. “We’ve been out here long enough.” Lily touched the ground once again, closing her eyes thinking about Wells, but she didn’t think only about him. In her mind were images of Atom, the two boys who had died during the landing, her mum, and Grace, Clarke’s father, Bellamy’s mother, and whoever Murphy might have lost. So much death in their lives—they had already lost so much because of the Ark and because of what they didn’t know about the Earth. She hoped that all those people had finally found some peace in a world that seemed so eager to make them all suffer in one way or another.
Lily got up to follow Murphy, when something caught her eye.
“Where are you going?” Murphy asked her as she made her way towards a thick rhododendron bush bloomed with pale pink flowers.
“Can you give me your knife?” she asked after she had knelt down next to the flowers.
“Yeah, why would I do that?” he answered, just a few feet from her.
“Will it change the nature of your answer if I tell you?” she said, looking up at him. Murphy was looking at her and then he briefly looked at the flowers, before scoffing.
“This is seriously pointless,” he scoffed, kneeling down with his knife in hand, reaching out to cut one flower, and quickly pushing it onto Lily’s legs. Her eyes widened as she looked at him getting up, putting back his knife in the back of his pants.
“Can we go now?” Lily nodded her head before pulling herself up, brushing the dirt from her knees. Then she walked back to Wells’ grave to put the flower down, moving as gently as she could, like her presence was disturbing him somehow.
“Goodbye, Wells,” she muttered, caressing one last time the dirt of his grave.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Wells’ death. Luckily, there had not been any other attacks on the camp, and Bellamy’s idea of building a wall all around the dropship was truly helping people feel safer. It wasn’t finished yet, but it was also helping with cooperation. Having a common purpose could truly bring people closer.
Lily was relieved even about Jasper. After five days since he’d taken the medicine for the first time, he felt strong enough to try and take a stroll just outside the dropship, and Octavia was determined to make him walk beyond the walls.
“Are you sure about that?” Monty had asked Octavia one morning.
The girl nodded. “He’s scared,” she said in a quiet voice, not wanting Jasper to hear. “He needs to see that he can be safe.”
Lily wished she had the same faith as Octavia. After everything that had happened to them, and all the people they’d lost, Lily found it difficult to believe they were even remotely safe. The wall was helping, but pushing Jasper outside felt like lying to him—and she didn’t have the strength to do it.
Monty was still working with the wristbands, trying to reach the Ark. But he still hadn’t succeeded. And that was really stressing him out.
“I frayed this!” he exclaimed that morning, making Lily turn to look at him. She was tying her shoes, getting ready to help with the wall.
“Is it completely ruined?” she asked, moving closer to the boy, who was still sitting on the ground with the wristband in his hands and a defeated expression.
“Completely,” he said, shaking his head. “I need another one.”
Lily put a hand on Monty’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else who wants to get rid of theirs.”
Most of the Hundred had already taken theirs off, but some still wore them, like Lily.
“You don’t want to give me yours by any chance?” he asked, almost pleading as he looked up at her. Lily’s hand moved to her wrist, her fingers brushing against the cold metal still embedded in her skin.
She knew she probably shouldn’t care, since the Council had dropped them with no help onto a planet more dangerous than anyone had imagined. But at the same time, Lily didn’t want to take it off.
She took a breath. “Monty…”
“No, I get it,” he said gently, though he glanced sadly at the darkened wristband in his hands. “You’ve still got people, right?”
Lily really didn’t know how to answer that. She remembered that after her mother died, many people would say she was alone now, and that they felt sorry for her. And even though she had been devastated, and did feel lonely, she’d wanted to tell them she actually wasn’t—that she still had her father. But now, like before, she wasn’t entirely sure he truly cared, or if he helped her only out of duty and responsibility. Lily had never had the courage to ask Marcus what he felt for her.
He probably thinks I’m just a burden, she thought, gripping the metal tightly. It was hard to see it any other way after what had happened the last time she’d seen him.
“Sort of,” she said, forcing a little smile. “You?” she asked, glancing at the wristband around Monty’s wrist.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “My mum.”
Lily’s eyes softened at the expression he made thinking about his mother. “You must miss her a lot,” she said, her mind immediately drifting to Mira, and all those times her mom would brush her hair and tell her stories about Earth.
“Yes, very much,” Monty said, looking up at her. “But I’m glad Jasper is here with me.”
Lily had seen how concerned Monty had been when Jasper got hurt; he’d never left his side during the worst times and through his recovery.
“You two are pretty tight,” she said, her lips curving upward when she saw him smile genuinely.
“Always have been,” Monty explained. “Jasper’s always been there, since we were kids, until we ended up in the Skybox.”
Lily cocked her head curiously. “And how exactly did that happen?”
Monty let out a chuckle. “I’m sure you’d like to hear an adventurous story like Finn’s,” he said, then shrugged his shoulders. “But we were honestly just high.”
Lily let out a little giggle. She knew it was strictly forbidden on the Ark, but for once she was glad not to hear a heavy story. But after a moment, she also felt bad for them; Monty and Jasper were probably the most innocent among them all, and yet they’d ended up on Earth—and Jasper had almost died. Only God knew what would become of them in the future.
“Monty,” Clarke’s voice made them turn, seeing the girl climbing up the iron ladder to the second floor. It had been a rough period for Clarke especially. From what she’d told Lily, she and Wells had some sort of falling out. Lily decided not to ask her more than that; she didn’t want to intrude during such a delicate time. She well knew the feeling of not wanting to share personal information with everyone. Lily just hoped time would bring Clarke some peace.
“I’ll be going. It’s my turn to help build the wall,” Lily said, sharing one last look with Monty and an encouraging smile with Clarke, then she made her way down the iron ladder.
It was strange to see everyone getting along and gathering together to build something that might save them all. Since Wells’ death, there hadn’t been any more major arguments among the Hundred, nor any physical fights—that was the only positive thing that had come out of that week.
“Hey,” Lily heard Bellamy’s voice as her foot touched the ground. She turned, her lips lifting into a small smile as she saw him approaching.
“Hi,” she said, wondering why he was looking for her. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, facing him.
“Yesterday, while you were helping Connor, I heard you talking about hydrogen… pero…” he stopped, searching for the right word.
“Hydrogen peroxide?” she asked, making him turn toward her.
“That stuff they used to clean wounds?” Bellamy said, raising his eyebrows, and Lily nodded.
“That’s the one,” she said, crossing her arms, curious about what he wanted to know. “What about it?”
“Can you make it?” he asked, his tone calm as he studied her.
“Did someone else get hurt?” she found herself asking. It was something that could easily happen as they worked on the wall. People accidentally hammered their own hands, got cuts, or splinters stuck in their skin. Luckily, nothing major had happened yet, but the day before, while she was checking Connor’s cut, she’d mentioned how she wished she had some hydrogen peroxide to avoid surprises. She hadn’t realized Bellamy had overheard her.
“Someone will eventually,” he answered, then cocked his head slightly. “So? Can you do it?”
“Not without proper chemical equipment. Hydrogen peroxide doesn’t exist in nature in any useful amount,” Lily explained, shaking her head. Then she observed Bellamy’s reaction. He looked down, taking a breath. He clearly wanted to find a way to have a stock of medicine. It wasn’t a bad idea—they would definitely need it at some point.
“But there are other ways we can keep wounds clean,” Lily said after a moment, making him turn back toward her. “I could try making alcohol or vinegar, or use some plants that help fight infections. It’s not the same as hydrogen peroxide, but it’s better than nothing.”
Bellamy raised his eyebrows for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll just have to work with what we’ve got.” Then they both moved toward the exit of the dropship. “What do you need?”
“Nothing I already have here,” she said, shaking her head. Bellamy listened attentively.
“I’ll arrange a party,” he said, sharing a glance with Lily. The thought of leaving camp still terrified her, though she didn’t want Bellamy to see it. They all had to use their skills if they wanted to survive, and Lily knew she was the only one who really understood plants and compounds to make medicines. So if someone had to go out, it would have to be her. But she couldn’t help looking at the trees just outside the wall, feeling both fear and threat.
“Thank you,” he said, once Lily managed to nod her head and force a little smile.
“Bellamy!” Murphy’s voice made them both turn. He was walking toward them. “A word,” he said, glancing briefly at Lily, but saying nothing directly to her.
“Alright,” Bellamy agreed. With one last look at Lily, he walked away with Murphy.
Lily took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts about leaving the camp, and decided to start working on the wall. As she walked to see who needed help, she noticed Charlotte trying to tie two pieces of wood together. Seeing her struggling, Lily approached her with a small smile.
“Need a hand?” she asked. Charlotte timidly looked up at her, then offered a small, grateful smile and nodded. Lily immediately obliged, taking one of the two pieces of wood to hold it steady.
“Are you alright, Charlotte?” she asked as she watched the girl wrap the rope around the wood, biting her lip. Charlotte nodded, though Lily could tell she was forcing herself to appear strong. Even when terrified, Charlotte always tried to hold her posture, even if a few tears sometimes slipped down her face. Lily didn’t blame her at all. Charlotte was a child. Lily was sure she herself would’ve been a weeping mess if she’d been sent to Earth at the same age.
“You still have nightmares?” she asked gently, remembering what Charlotte had confessed to her and Bellamy in the cave. Charlotte paused for a moment, then looked up at Lily.
“Sometimes,” she answered quietly, sadness shining in her eyes. Lily nodded silently. What was scaring that girl so much? What had she seen on the Ark to make her this frightened?
Marcus, if only you could see what these rules do to us, Lily thought sadly, focusing on her hands gripping the wood.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Lily said softly, looking at the little girl. “But we’ll get through it, you’ll see.” Charlotte observed her silently, but after a long moment managed a small smile.
“Hey!” Murphy’s voice made them turn, and Lily frowned as she saw the boy striding toward Connor, who was kneeling on the ground, out of breath, with a piece of wood beside him. “You think the Grounders are just going to sit around and wait for us to finish the wall?” Connor clenched his jaw as Murphy spoke.
Why does he always have to be so aggressive? Lily thought. He wasn’t wrong—they needed to finish quickly—but the boy was literally on his knees. Couldn’t he let it slide for a moment?
“Maybe we should let the little girl do the lifting for you, huh?” Murphy said mockingly, pointing at Charlotte. “Or maybe we could leave it to Saint Lily. We know how she loves to help,” he added with a glare in Lily’s direction.
They hadn’t spoken since the day he’d brought her to Wells’ grave. She knew she shouldn’t have asked him something so personal, and she truly regretted it, but Murphy didn’t seem to care, and she didn’t want to bother him further.
“I just need some water, okay?” Connor argued, still kneeling on the ground. “Then I’ll be fine.”
“Murphy,” Bellamy’s voice had the power to instantly calm Lily as she saw him approaching. “Get this guy some water.” Murphy glanced at him, then looked back down at Connor.
“Hey,” Bellamy said to Charlotte, “You got this?” He nodded toward the piece of wood on the ground that Connor had dropped earlier. Did he really want Charlotte to carry it? But as Charlotte stepped forward, reaching for the wood, Bellamy rushed forward, stopping her with a genuine smile. “I’m just kidding.”
Lily couldn’t help but let her own lips curve into a smile as she watched Bellamy lift the wood and carry it away. He seemed to have a soft spot for that little girl. It was sweet, and Lily couldn’t deny it.
But after Bellamy had walked away, something caught Lily’s attention, and she gasped when she saw Murphy behind Connor, unzipping his pants and peeing on the other boy’s jacket. Connor was on his feet immediately.
“What the hell are you doing, Murphy?” he exclaimed angrily, pushing Murphy. “I’m going to kill you!” But as he did, two other boys stepped in between them, dragging Connor away from Murphy. Lily moved to make sure Charlotte wouldn’t get caught in the scuffle.
Murphy didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “You wanted a water break,” he said with a smug grin. As Connor was dragged off, he turned to speak to everyone. “Get back to work!” Lily stared at him as he passed by. Why did he always have to be so nasty to people for no reason?
“What is it, sweetie?” he asked, noticing her staring. “See something you like?”
The smirk only made Lily roll her eyes as she turned away to keep working on tying another piece of wood. “Was that really necessary?” she asked before she could stop herself. She hated when she did that, especially around people like Murphy.
Murphy watched her for a moment before chuckling, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.
“You know what’s necessary?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her. Then he picked up a bucket, emptied the water on the ground, and shoved it at her. “We’re out of water.”
Lily looked down at the bucket at her feet, anxiety creeping into her chest. He knew she was afraid to go outside alone, and that was exactly what he was asking of her. But she’d be damned if she let him see her fear. So, without taking her eyes off him, she stepped forward and took the bucket from his hands.
And as she walked past, Lily looked up at him. “I wonder how much longer you’ll enjoy being mean.”
He held her gaze, wearing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. After a moment, he leaned forward. “For now, I find it very much fun. Now go fetch some water, sweetie.”
Lily shook her head before brushing past him, making her way toward the exit that led to the path closest to the little river they’d found. John Murphy could really be an asshole, but she refused to show him how nervous she was.
I’ll go out, and I’ll come back in, and nothing’s going to happen, she told herself, feeling her fingers tighten around the bucket. She was scared, but she knew she’d have to face that fear eventually. She just hoped it would be on her own terms—and not Murphy’s.
But as she was walking, she heard Octavia’s voice. “Look, we’re already there!” She was walking a few feet ahead of Jasper, who didn’t seem so sure he wanted to follow. Understandably…
“Hey,” Lily said, catching their attention as she got closer.
“Lily,” Jasper said with a relieved breath. Octavia smiled at her.
“Hi!” she said. “I’m taking Jasper outside.”
“Yeah,” Jasper said, pressing a hand to his chest as if to protect his wound. “She’s pretty convinced about that.” Lily gave him a small smile, understanding his fear.
“What are you doing?” Octavia asked curiously. Lily glanced down at the bucket.
“Um…” she said, taking a deep breath. “Apparently we’re out of water.”
“So we’ll go together,” Octavia said encouragingly to Jasper, who nodded, probably because he didn’t want to let Octavia down. “Come on, just a few more steps, okay?”
Lily watched the girl bravely walk past the fence and wondered how it was possible for Octavia to have such strength. She’d been locked under the floor of the Ark for so long. Most people would be scared of everything, but instead, Octavia seemed the most eager of all of them to explore this world. Lily didn’t share that curiosity anymore—not after knowing all the dangers waiting just outside. But they were now on Earth. They couldn’t live their lives locked up inside camp. And with one last look at Jasper, she decided to follow Octavia.
Lily’s heart was hammering in her chest as she found herself surrounded by trees, the green leaves rustling overhead. It was terrifying—but also truly a beautiful sight.
“Come on,” Octavia said to Jasper. “One foot in front of the other.” Lily was following, turning to see where Jasper was. But the poor boy was still at the fence entrance, peering carefully ahead as if trying to spot something among the trees. Lily shared that sentiment.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Octavia asked him gently.
Jasper looked around a moment longer before answering, “Oh, nothing,” he lied. “I’m good.”
“I know,” Lily said softly to him. “I feel the same way.” Jasper gave her a small, nervous smile.
“Jasper,” Octavia said from a few feet ahead, “it’s been a week, okay?” Then she turned to walk a bit farther. “You’ve been given a second chance,” she went on. “You gotta use it—”
But suddenly, something yanked Octavia violently behind a bush. Lily gasped in fear, dropping the bucket to the ground.
“Octavia?” Jasper called out.
“Oh my god…” Lily muttered when Octavia didn’t answer. Was it a Grounder? Should they call Bellamy? But that would take too long. Octavia could be in real danger.
“Octavia!” she called, just as Jasper echoed her.
“Octavia, are you okay?!” he cried, and together they started moving toward where Octavia had vanished. Lily quickly grabbed the bucket. She had no other weapon—but if there was a Grounder, she could hit them with it.
But when they got closer, they saw another of the Hundred holding Octavia, his hand clamped over her mouth. The boy was laughing loudly, clearly amused by what he’d done. Lily truly wanted to throw the bucket at him right then and there.
Jasper let out a frustrated groan and turned to head back. Lily glared at the boy as Octavia shoved him away. Why would he want to scare Jasper like that? That poor boy had already experienced enough fear in so little time.
“Jasper, come on,” Octavia was saying, stepping closer to him as he turned away. “There’s nothing to be afraid—”
But in an instant, Jasper was on the ground, tripping over a root sticking out of the dirt.
“Jasper!” Lily exclaimed, following Octavia as they knelt beside him. He had only just recovered. She was terrified he might have injured himself badly in the same place as before. But before anyone could say anything, something else caught her attention. Lily’s eyes went wide as she spotted something bright yellow lying a few feet away. Looking closer, she realized it was one of the makeshift knives from camp—but what truly horrified her were the two fingers lying next to it.
“Do you see that?” Jasper said, still lying on the ground. Lily and Octavia exchanged a worried look before both stood up and cautiously moved closer.
“This is ours,” Octavia said, kneeling beside the knife. Her voice was steady, but her breathing was slightly uneven. Lily, however, couldn’t tear her gaze away from the fingers. They were definitely male—and the skin was dark. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“They didn’t even let him have time to defend himself,” Lily said, remembering what Clarke had told her a week before. “They cut off two of his fingers and then stabbed him in the throat.” Then she turned to Octavia, who was staring back at her with wide eyes. “These are Wells’ fingers.”

Chapter Text

Lily was waiting for Octavia and Jasper to bring Bellamy in his tent. She was set down, next to the table where they had set the fingers and the knife. Lily could not take her eyes off of the table, as her legs bounced up and down in nervousness.
Those were Wells’ fingers, and that knife… that knife belonged to them, and that had only one meaning.
Grounders would use their own weapons, she thought, trying to control her breathing. That was not supposed to happen. That shouldn’t have happened.
“O, what is this all about–” Bellamy, stopped once he entered the tent, followed by his sister. His eyes noticed Lily sitting down and a frown appeared on his face, “Lily, what are you doing here?”
“I told you,” Octavia said walking towards the table, as Lily got on her feet, “We need to show you something.” Bellamy’s glance went to his sister, he was confused, but he still didn’t know the worst part.
“Octavia, we are here!” Jasper’s voice preceded his entrance in the tent, followed by Clarke. On her face too appeared a confused frown.
“What’s happening?” Clarke asked, walking forward, but her eyes immediately went to the table, not missing the knife and the fingers, her face growing paler. “What is that?” she asked and Bellamy looked down as well, his eyes grew larger as he watched close.
“We found them just outside,” Octavia explained, “On the east side.”
Lily noticed Bellamy spun his head towards his sister, “East, where?”
“Not far, just a few feet in the same direction,” Octavia answered her brother, who took a deep breath, putting his hands on his hips.
“It’s where we’ve found Wells…” he said, confirming what Lily had already thought, and what probably everyone had already in their minds. Silence grew between them, Lily was standing in between Octavia and Bellamy, her lips tight in a thin line. For a moment she had wished she was wrong, because now it was impossible not to start suspecting everyone. And by Clarke’s expression she was having a similar thought, but then suddenly, Lily noticed the girl taking a breath, and on her face appeared an angry, furious look, once she reached out to study the knife more closely.
“This knife was made of metal from the dropship,” Clarke said.
Jasper’s eyes grew larger, “What do you mean?” he asked with a trembling voice. Lily was not surprised to see Clarke understanding in less than a second what that information implied.
Then she felt Bellamy shift next to her, as he turned to look at her, Octavia and Jasper, his jaw tight and his arms crossed over his chest. “Who else knows about this?”
Octavia was the one to answer, “No one,” she said, with a shake of her head, “We brought it straight here.”
They all knew what had happened but nobody had the strength to tell it out loud. Lily was still trying to wrap her head around it. Her pulse thundering in her ears.
“Clarke?” Jasper called his friend, as if he was trying to find reassurance, but he found any.
“The Grounders didn’t kill Wells,” she said, with a mix of shock and anger, “It was one of us.”
Lily pushed her hair back, one of them had killed Wells. But why? Why so suddenly? She knew that many people wished for Wells to be dead, but doing it for real? That was another story.
“So, there’s a murderer in the camp?” Jasper said, slightly panicking.
“There’s more than one killer in this camp,there’s no news,” Bellamy spoke with a steady voice, but his posture was stiff, probably he was trying to keep a mask of control like always. But what should they do now?
“We need to keep it quiet,” Bellamy’s words made Lily look up at him. That could be the best thing; there were too many violent people in the hundred, knowing that there was a killer among them would only lead to fear and panic. Exactly what Lily was feeling at that moment.
Clarke suddenly let out a breath, and in an instant she was making her way towards the exit. Lily frowned observing her. What did she want to do?
Bellamy was quick to stop her, putting himself before her, “Get out of my way, Bellamy,” Clarke hissed, meeting Bellamy’s gaze. Lily had never seen her act like that. She would usually keep her calm and try to think, but this time Clarke seemed to be out of herself.
“Be smart about this,” Bellamy said, “Look what we’ve achieved. The wall, the patrol. Like it or not, thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us.” That was partially true, Lily had noticed it too, but Clarke didn’t seem to agree and probably from her perspective it made sense. Lily wouldn’t have liked if at Wells place there was her mother, or Grace, to be used to keep everyone calm.
“Oh, good for you, you mean,” Clarke spatted at Bellamy, “What? Keep people afraid and they’ll work for you? Is that it?”
“Yeah. That’s it,” Bellamy didn’t hesitate to answer, “But it’s good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall.”
“It’s not just that,” Lily spoke, making them all turn to her, “Fear against the Grounders is indeed building the walls,” She said sharing a look with Bellamy, and then her attention went to Clarke, “But what happens if we start to be afraid of each other?”
Clarke’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe it— You’re siding with him?” she exclaimed angrily, “Wells had been killed, and I’m not going to let it slide.”
Lily moved forward, her eyes fixed on the other girl, “I’m not siding with anyone,” she said trying to keep her voice calm, but she could not hide the shaky breath that left her lips, “But we have to be careful about it. People are already terrified enough. If we tell everyone there’s a killer among us… it’ll be chaos. Panic makes people dangerous.”
Clarke’s eyes flared. “So we lie to them?”
Lily blinked fast, trying to steady her breath.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” she said. “But if we make this public right now, people will start pointing fingers at anyone. We’ll end up with people getting hurt—or killed— mostly innocent people, before we even know who actually did this.”
“You want to go behind people’s back,” Clarke’s eyes sharpened as she looked at Lily, “Kane taught you well.” Lily’s face was drained of color. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She felt like the ground dropped beneath her feet.
“What..?” she whispered, as her mind went back to her father. Was she acting like Marcus Kane? That thought froze her on the spot, she had never thought of being anything similar to her father. He had spoken to her often about how keeping people in check and following the rules was the only way to keep them safe. They didn’t have to know everything, they just needed to follow what was best for them. Lily had always questioned what he believed in; laws above anything. But she didn’t feel like she was saying something against her own beliefs. Protecting people even from themselves was important, scared people most of all. But now that thought didn’t seem so different from her father’s.
Was she becoming like Marcus Kane? She didn’t want to be.
“I’m not–” Lily stopped herself realizing that she had spoken in a more aggressive tone than she had intended to, and trying to stop her shaky hands she spoke again, “This has nothing to do with Kane,” she said, trying to ignore the look Octavia and Jasper shared, “I want to try to find a way to keep people safe. All of us.”
Clarke’s eyes blazed. “Wells was murdered. And you want to just pretend nothing happened?”
Lily shook her head fiercely. “No!” she exclaimed, almost pleading with Clarke to listen to her, “But if we tell everyone now, what will we do when they start raising against each other?”

“It’s not up to us,” Clarke answered stubbornly, “It’s something that involves all of us!”
“What are you going to do?” Bellamy broke in, getting Clarke’s attention, “Just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don’t even know whose knife that is.”
“Oh, really?” Lily’s eyes widened when she saw Clarke turning the knife to show them the inner part of the handle. There was something written inside, Lily had not noticed it before, “J.M. John Murphy,” Clarke said, “The people have the right to know.”
Lily’s blood froze in her veins. She remembered Murphy’s threat against Wells on their first day on Earth. She could believe he’d do it — she’d seen the violence in his eyes. But accusing him publicly meant a bloodbath. What if he was innocent? What if someone had planted that knife to frame him? The knife was not enough. And the thought of being wrong somehow terrified her.
“Clarke!” Lily blurted out, her voice trembling, stepping forward as Clarke headed for the exit. She grabbed Clarke’s arm, eyes wide. “You can’t accuse him in front of everyone!”
Clarke jerked her arm free, glaring at Lily. “Get out of my way, Lily.” Then she shoved past Lily and stormed out.
Lily’s eyes widened, realizing that she was really going to do it. The fear of Grounders united everyone, the fear of a killer among them would divide them, but what if they were scared of a person inside their walls.
Lily stood frozen for a heartbeat, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She felt Bellamy’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t even look at him.
“What are they going to do…?” Lily whispered to herself, then stumbled forward, following Clarke out of the tent.
Lily found herself walking a few feet behind Clarke, who was marching towards Murphy. She hoped—she still hoped—that Clarke would have taken him aside and asked for some kind of explanation, but she didn’t. Instead, Clarke shoved Murphy, pushing his chest.
Murphy took a couple of steps back, letting out a confused chuckle as he looked at Clarke, “Woah, what’s your problem?” The interaction was quickly getting the attention of everyone around the camp.
“Recognize this?” Clarke asked, showing Murphy the knife.
Lily’s eyes were fixed on Murphy, trying to see his reaction, hoping that he would be so proud to actually admit the crime. If he was guilty, she hoped he would say it. But on his face appeared a confused frown.
“It’s my knife,” he simply said. He still kept a half-smirk on his lips as he tried to reach out for the knife. “Where’d you find it?”
Clarke quickly pulled it away from his reach. “Where you dropped it after you killed Wells!” Lily’s eyes moved to the crowd getting closer and closer, very much drawn there from the conversation.
Murphy stopped for a moment, blinking rapidly, a crease forming between his brows. “Where I what?” Lily couldn’t help but think that he seemed genuinely confused, as Bellamy, Octavia and Jasper stopped next to her to look at the scene.
“The Grounders killed Wells, not me?” Murphy said.
Why wouldn’t he admit it, if he was the culprit?
“I know what you did,” Clarke hissed in his face, with venom in her voice. Murphy flinched slightly, shoulders tightening as he held her gaze.
He’s too proud and cocky, Lily thought, looking at him. And he didn’t seem to be a person that thought much about the consequences of his action.
Murphy’s eyes sharpened as he looked at Clarke. “Really?” he said, his eyes moving to Bellamy. There was a flicker of desperation there, barely masked. “Bellamy, do you believe this crap?” Lily looked up to Bellamy, noticing the way he clenched his jaw, eyes darting briefly between Murphy and Clarke. His arms crossed, and no answer came from him.
But there are no consequences, Lily thought observing Bellamy. They were living by ‘Whatever the Hell they wanted.” Everything was allowed. Bellamy had told her and Wells that if they didn’t agree on that, they could try to kill them, with no consequences. He had even given a knife to both Wells and Murphy to fight each other. Murphy would always walk around like he owned the world, because he was always supported by Bellamy. So why not admit it?
He can really be innocent, Lily thought, stepping forward to where Murphy and Clarke were.
“Lily?” Jasper called her with a confused and trembling voice, but she didn’t stop.
“Clarke,” she said looking at the girl, who glared at her with disbelief, “We need to do this in private.”
“He killed Wells!” Clarke shouted in her face, but Lily didn’t back away.
“He says he didn’t do it,” she spoke, more firmly than she had expected.
Clarke let out a shaky breath, “And you believe him?” At her words, Lily finally dared to glance sideways at Murphy—and found him staring back at her, wide-eyed and breathing fast, as if he couldn’t believe she was speaking up for him. And when Lily’s eyes moved back to Clarke, somehow she seemed to understand what Lily was thinking.
“How can you be so naive, Lily?” she exclaimed in disbelief, then she returned her attention to Murphy, “You threatened to kill him. We all have heard you,” she said. “You hated Wells!”
“Plenty of people hated Wells,” Murphy answered without hesitation. “He was the Chancellor that locked us up!”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one who got in a knife fight with him!” Clarke argued.
“Yeah, I didn’t kill him either.” He spoke with confidence. But his shoulders remained stiff, and his eyes darted toward Bellamy again, as if hoping he’d intervene. And Lily felt even more confident that he was actually innocent. She had to make Clarke see it, but she was far too angry. What could she do?
“Tried to kill Jasper, too!” Octavia’s voice made Lily take a shaky breath.
“What?” Jasper asked with wide eyes. Her and Monty had told Lily what had happened the night the acid fog appeared. Murphy was so fed up with Jasper’s moanings that he actually tried to kill him to make him stop. He was not the only one though; many people wished for Jasper to die in those days. Yet he was the only one taking a knife.
Was she truly being naive? Had it really been him to kill Wells and she was defending a killer?
But why not say it? She thought, confused. Everybody knew he had tried to kill Jasper. He didn’t keep it a secret, why do it now?
“Come on!” Murphy exclaimed, starting to get angry, “I don’t have to answer to you, I don’t have to answer to anybody!”
“Come again?” Bellamy’s voice reached them, sharp and steady. A chill ran down Lily’s spine at the authority in his tone. And Lily noticed how Murphy changed his behaviour immediately.
“Bellamy,” he said nervously, walking towards him, “Look I’m telling you man, I didn’t do it.” He was pleading.
He would tell Bellamy, she thought. She was sure of that.
“They found his fingers on the ground with your knife,”Bellamy explained to him, and Murphy seemed at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.
“Couldn’t someone have stolen it from him?” Lily spoke, making everyone look at her. She felt the weight of Bellamy’s gaze anchoring her in place, his eyes narrowed in thought. Murphy turned to her too, his stare sharp but somehow tinged with something like disbelief—or gratitude.
“It’s a hundred of us.” Lily kept saying.
“That’s a big if,” Clarke said.
But Lily stood her ground, “So is your knife.”
The other girl flared once again, “Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not saying he is innocent,” Lily argued back, “But if Murphy truly had killed Wells don’t you think he would have bragged about it? Why lie now?” Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes remained locked on Clarke’s.
“Because he succeeded this time,” Clarke answered, and Lily understood that there was no way she’d convince her to rethink the situation. She took a breath. “Clarke, I know you’re angry. I know you want someone to blame. But right now it’s just your word against his. That’s not enough to call someone a murderer.”
Clarke shook her head. “You just don’t want to see it,” she said. “The proof is all in front of you, but you still don’t want to see it. He is the only one who could have done it!” Then she turned. “Is this the kind of society you want?” she asked, and Lily felt slightly panicked, seeing that she was speaking to the crowd. “You said there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without… without punishment?”
Lily’s eyes widened at those words.
“I told you! I didn’t do it!” Murphy said, walking towards Clarke. His face was flushed, panic breaking through the bravado. Lily moved forward, putting a hand on his arm trying to calm him. She felt the rigid tension under her fingers, like touching a spring about to snap.
“Clarke,” she said, turning to the other girl. “We don’t even know if it was him.”
“Of course he was,” Connor’s voice cut in, sending a chill racing down Lily’s spine. “I say we float him.”
“What? No!” Lily exclaimed, glancing around. Faces twisted with rage surrounded her, every eye locked on Murphy like wolves scenting blood. Her breath quickened, a cold pressure tightening in her chest. So many people hated him—too many. Did they even care there wasn’t enough proof?
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Clarke insisted, her voice trembling now, tinged with rising panic.
“You can’t do this,” Lily cried, still gripping Murphy’s arm as she turned to Connor.
“Why not?” he shot back, his eyes burning as he glared at Murphy. “He deserves to float. It’s justice!”
Murmurs erupted all around them, swelling into angry voices. Lily spun, searching the crowd, and her heart sank as more and more people nodded and began to chant, “Float him, float him,” each repetition gaining force.
“Revenge isn’t justice!” Clarke shouted, but the crowd barely seemed to hear her. They’d been pushed past reason, fueled by their hatred for Murphy.
“It’s justice!” Connor yelled. “Float him!” And now the entire camp was screaming the words like a war cry.
“Oh my God,” Lily whispered, panic flooding her veins as she looked up at Murphy. His face had gone pale, eyes wide and darting around, chest heaving as he tried to swallow air. “You need to get out of here.” Her fingers clenched tighter on his jacket. Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a second, Lily saw raw fear staring back at her.
What have we done? she thought.
She twisted her head, seeking a solution, and her gaze found Bellamy. He stood frozen, eyes darting over the crowd, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek. Their eyes met, and Lily silently begged him for help—but she wasn’t sure he’d move.
But before she could call out, Murphy tore himself free of her grip and lunged toward Clarke.
“Murphy, no!” Lily shouted, but he didn’t reach her. Someone shoved him hard, sending him crashing to the ground. Instantly, more people closed in, fists and boots striking him from every side.
“No!” Lily cried, lunging forward, grabbing at arms, trying to pull attackers away. “Stop it!” Her voice cracked as the chaos roared around her. Beside her, she could hear Clarke shouting too, equally frantic.
But the fury of the mob was overwhelming. A boy Lily grabbed twisted violently from her grasp and slammed a foot into Murphy’s stomach. Lily gasped in horror, shoving between bodies, fighting to reach him.
She finally broke through the circle, and the sight stole her breath. Murphy lay curled on the ground, arms over his head, blood dripping from his nose as blows rained down.
“That’s enough!” Lily screamed, shoving a boy away from Murphy. “Leave him alone!” But a pair of hands seized her arms from behind and flung her to the ground.
From where she landed, dazed and winded, Lily looked up to see Connor gripping a length of red dropship belt. Three people were pinning Murphy to the dirt. In one swift motion, Connor forced the gag into Murphy’s mouth.
“Murphy!” Lily cried. She scrambled up, stumbling forward, but someone caught her around the waist.
“You’re just going to get hurt,” Bellamy’s voice murmured close to her ear. He held her tight, his breath harsh against her hair,
“They’re going to kill him!” Lily shouted desperately. “We have to stop this. Let me go!” She struggled against his hold with all her strength. Her elbow connected with his chest, and Bellamy grunted, his fingers slipped from her arm, and Lily dashed toward the clearing where they were dragging Murphy.
“Oh my God,” Clarke gasped beside her, eyes wide with horror. “We have to stop this.”
A surge of anger shot through Lily, and she spun on Clarke. “I warned you this would happen!” she shouted, her voice raw. “The whole damn camp has joined this madness!”
Regret shadowed Clarke’s face, but she didn’t reply because their attention swung to the group wrestling Murphy toward a tree. He was thrown into the mud, bound and helpless.
Lily shrieked as a boy yanked him upright, just enough for Connor to slam a fist into his jaw. She lunged forward, grabbing Connor’s arm. “Stop it!”
But he jerked free, and someone else dragged Lily backward.
“Murphy!” she screamed, watching Connor punch him again. “Let me go!”
“You can’t do this!” Clarke yelled as another boy tossed a rope over a thick branch. Lily’s pulse nearly stopped. They were going to hang him.
Clarke shoved forward, trying to break through, but Connor blocked her path. Lily fought against the boy restraining her. “I said let me go!”
“Let her go,” Bellamy’s voice rang out. The hold around her finally pulled off, and she found herself pushing that boy away from her. Then she searched Murphy with her gaze and her eyes filled with tears as she saw that they had pulled the rope that was already secured around Murphy’s neck. He was standing on a bucket.
“You can stop this!” Clarke exclaimed, pushing Bellamy's chest, looking at the scene with wide eyes. “They listen to you!”
“Bellamy, you should do it!” Connor proposed, he seemed moved by some kind of euphoria that only scared Lily more, as she turned to Bellamy.
He can’t do it, she thought to herself, as all around the crowd began chanting his name, louder and louder, urging him to obey. He can’t do it, she repeated to herself, watching Clarke talking to him. But then her heart dropped when she saw him step past Clarke, a dark resolution settling in his eyes. She knew what he had decided.
As he got closer though, she put herself before him, a hand pressed against his chest. She felt his heartbeat pounding under her palm.
“Bellamy,” she said, her vision blurring with tears as she stared up at him. “Please don’t do this.”
He silently observed her and for a moment she wished he'd listen, but then his gaze dropped, passing by her, with dark resolution. Lily heard herself call for him, but then his foot connected with the bucket, pushing it from under Murphy's feets. Without it, his body dropped, and the rope tensed. “How could you?” she heard Clarke scream at Bellamy. And he reacted instantly, grabbing Clarke by the arms.
“That’s on you, princess,” he said. “You should have kept your mouth shut!”
Lily’s eyes were fixed on Murphy, watching the rope bite into his neck as he struggled, his face flushed and eyes bulging, desperately trying to drag in air that wouldn’t come. Her gaze darted to the rope tied around the trunk of another tree. She started to rush toward it, but Connor caught her by the arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he exclaimed, pulling her back roughly.
“Let me go!” she yelled, twisting against his grip. “Let go, damn it!” She finally kicked him hard in the shin, making him release her with a sharp curse.
Suddenly Finn’s voice cut through the chaos, loud and furious.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, running toward them. “Cut him down!”
Lily lunged for Connor’s knife, but he whipped it up, pointing it directly at her chest. She froze, her breath catching, her eyes flicking briefly to the blade—then straight back to Murphy, unable to look away from his choking gasps.
Finn stepped between her and the knife, shielding her with his body. But he wasn’t armed, and more people were shoving and yelling, the crowd surging around them.
Then a thin, high voice cut through the noise like a blade.
“Stop, okay! Murphy didn’t kill Wells,” Lily turned, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Charlotte standing there, trembling but resolute. “I did!”
Clarke was the first to react, grabbing Bellamy’s axe and racing to cut Murphy loose.
Lily was still reeling from Charlotte’s words, confusion spinning in her head. But the instant she saw Murphy drop to the ground, she darted forward, shoving Connor aside with all her strength.
She dropped to her knees beside Murphy, immediately working to loosen the noose from around his neck. Her fingers fumbled at the knot, slick with sweat and trembling as she tore it free. She quickly pulled the belt from his mouth, and as the gag fell away, Murphy sucked in huge, ragged breaths.
“Deep breaths,” she said, her voice soft but urgent, keeping her eyes on his as he gasped for air. His eyes were wild and red, searching her face like he couldn’t quite believe she was there.
Once she saw him breathing more steadily, she moved to his wrists, carefully freeing his hands.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, gently helping him sit up. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”
As she spoke, her eyes flicked upward, scanning the clearing. She couldn’t see Charlotte from where she knelt, but she could see Connor and the others who’d just been beating Murphy. Their faces were pale now, eyes wide as if only realizing what they’d done.
Then her gaze found Bellamy. His brown eyes were wide with disbelief. When their eyes met, his stare seemed to plead for something Lily couldn’t quite name. Lily shook her head slowly, dropping her gaze back down to Murphy.

Chapter Text

Lily remained kneeling beside Murphy, mud caked on her knees, her fingers hovering just above the raw, angry welts ringing his neck. She could almost feel the burn of rope against her own skin as she stared at the bruises. Around them, the clearing was littered with trampled leaves and footprints, blood smeared into the dirt like bruises on flesh. The air still smelled of sweat and fear.
She could hear Bellamy, Clarke, and Finn arguing in low, urgent voices a few yards away. Then she saw them turn and disappear behind the wall of the camp, Charlotte between them, looking small and terrified.
Murphy was staring at the ground, chest heaving, dried blood crusting his face. Lily swallowed, trying to steady her voice.
“Murphy… we should get you checked out,” she said softly, but he didn’t look at her. His eyes were distant, fixed on the path where Bellamy and the others had gone.
All around them, the clearing lay battered and silent. Drops of blood dotted the mud. The rope lay coiled near Murphy’s feet, like a venomous snake waiting to strike again.
She reached out slowly, her hand shaking slightly as it hovered near his elbow. When her fingers brushed his skin, Murphy jerked as though her touch were a spark of fire. His shoulders stiffened, and he twisted away just enough to keep distance between them.
“Let me take a look at your wounds,” Lily said, helping him up, but Murphy took his arm away from her.
“I don’t need that,” he said struggling to get up, “I’m going to kill her, where is she?”
Lily grabbed his arm, holding him up, so that he could lay his back against the tree, “You’re just going to make it worse,” she said, searching his eyes, but she saw growing fury in his gaze as he looked around to spot Charlotte. “Murphy,” she called him, “You need to calm down.”
A dark and bitter smirk appeared on his bloody face as he observed her, “I almost died,” he said leaning over towards her face. “This is not over.”
Her hand moved to his chest, to stop him from moving, so that he wouldn’t follow Charlotte, his eyes looked down at her hand before raising his gaze again. “I get that you’re angry. I get it.” She said as firmly as she could, “But this needs to stop before someone dies for real.”
His chuckle made her shiver as his gaze met hers, “Oh, someone is going to die, sweetie.”
“Murphy!” She said stronger than before hoping to finally make him see reason, “Revenge will only lead to more violence. Why do you think that you’ve ended up there?” Without warning, Murphy’s hand lashed out, clamping around her wrist firm, but not as strong as she thought it would have been. His face was suddenly inches from hers, his breath sharp and metallic with the scent of blood. He lingered his fingers against her skin for a moment, before pushing it away from him.
“This is my fault now?” he asked angrily. But Lily didn’t back down, but she didn’t get angry either. She could not blame him for reacting like this after all that had just happened to him.
“Please,” Lily murmured, her voice catching as her eyes searched for him. A tiny crease formed between his brows, and his eyes flickered across her face as if looking for a lie. “Don’t give them another reason to come for you again. Don’t do this. Don’t go after Charlotte. Let—”
“Bellamy handle it?” he interrupted her, and when she dropped her gaze she heard him let out a dark chuckle.
A bitter knot twisted in Lily’s chest. Just hearing the name managed to have that effect on her. She felt so disappointed and angry, after what he had just done; pushing the bucket from under Murphy’s feet. And yet somehow she still believed that he could protect them, keep them safe.
“No,” he said, “He pushed that bucket. I’m not waiting for him anymore.” He shoved himself off the tree, muscles tight like a coiled spring, and pushed past her shoulder—but not as roughly as he might have. Lily staggered a single step, but caught herself quickly, lifting her eyes to follow his track.
“Murphy,” she called, observing him as he walked up the hill to go back to the camp, “Murphy!”
Maybe I’m truly naive, she thought, looking at how hurt Murphy looked.
Lily took a last breath, looking for the last time that cursed place that still ringed with cries, yelling and beating. She still could not wrap her mind around what had just happened, she had never witnessed that much violence in all her life.
She quietly walked up the slope to reach the camp, following everyone else. But as she did so, she could not help but cross her arms over her chest as she was trying to shield herself, as she passed next to Connor and the other boys that engaged in Murphy’s beating.
“Hey,” Octavia’s voice preceded her, coming towards Lily, “Are you okay?”
Lily shared a look with her, shaking her head a little, before she saw Murphy pacing back and forth in front of Bellamy’s tent.
“He seems ready to start a riot,” Octavia said, her eyes too observing Murphy.
“Can you blame him?” Lily said with a heavy heart. She just hoped that he’d soon realize that what he was doing would only be worse for him.
Octavia took a breath, “What are we going to do now?” she asked, following Lily towards the tent. Lily shook her head. She had really no idea what was going to happen. But she was at least relieved to see that they had decided to talk it through privately. Even if she could already see that no one was as worked up as they had been when they had thought that Murphy was the killer.
Why did you do that, Charlotte? She thought, looking at the tent. She was such a sweet girl, shy, and gentle. How could she possibly have been Wells' murderer? She wasn’t even sure they had ever spoken.
Suddenly, Lily realised that she knew very little of Charlotte. She didn’t know much about any of the people around her.
Maybe that could have been avoided, she thought, torturing her trembling hands. They had kept trembling since Murphy’s beating had ended. What would they do to Charlotte? She didn’t believe that they would have gone that far with the little girl, but were they about to punish her. She was not even sure that Bellamy would let them do anything to that little girl. But was it fair?
Lily did not know what to think. Charlotte was guilty, she had confessed, but she was a child. What was the right thing to do? She felt so overwhelmed that she could not come up with a single idea, or calming thought.
“That’s it,” she heard Murphy, pacing back and forth, before the crowd that was waiting for Bellamy, Clarke and Finn.
“Oh, God,” Jasper said from next to Lily.
“Bring out the girl, Bellamy!” Murphy yelled, looking at the tent and Lily closed her eyes realizing that he would have not stopped. “Bring the girl out, now!” he yelled even more angrily.
Lily bit her lips. They could not start this all again, not on a child, and not Murphy. That circle of violence would have never stopped.
She then took a deep breath, stepping forward, voice trembling. “Murphy, stop—this isn’t the way.”
He spun on her, eyes wild with rage, but she knew that it wasn’t directed to her. “Don’t start with me again, sweetie,” he said. “I’ve already told you how this is going to end.”
“This is not how we are supposed to fix these things,” she said, searching for his gaze, “Please.” He looked at her in silence for a moment, nodding his head.
“Yeah,” he said, but something told her that he was not agreeing with her, “Yeah, the princess over there has many ideas on how we should live.” His anger flared again as his gaze moved to the tent once more. “You want to build a society, princess?” he spoke loudly to make sure Clarke could hear him. “Let’s bring a society. Bring her out!”
“Murphy, please!” Lily tried to grab his arm, but he jerked it away from her reach, just before Bellamy walked out of the tent. Alone.
Lily could see the tension in his posture, but he stood tall as Murphy stepped forward to face him.
“Well, well,” Murphy said, smirking but with anger sharpening every word, “Look who decided to join us.”
“Dial it down and back off,” Bellamy answered with a strong voice. But Murphy just moved forward, until they were face to face.
Lily glanced between them, holding her breath, silently begging Bellamy with her eyes to keep this from exploding.
“Or what?” Murphy asked in a hiss. “What are you gonna do, Bellamy, hang me?” Lily’s eyes shot to Bellamy’s face. He wore his leader’s mask, hard and unreadable, but his dark eyes were shining with an unmatched light.
“I was just giving the people what they wanted,” Lily dropped her gaze at his answer, feeling her chest tighten.
“Yeah,” Murphy muttered, before raising his voice. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Why don’t we do that right now?” he said, turning to the crowd at his back. Lily instinctively shook her head, stupidly thinking that he would change his mind. But of course, he didn't.
“So, who here wants to see the real murderer hung up?” he asked with venom in his voice, as he raised his hand. “All in favor?”
Lily’s eyes widened at his proposal, and she cast a quick glance at Bellamy, searching his face for any sign of a plan. He met her look briefly, jaw clenched, but he too seemed as tense as she was.
Lily’s eyes widened at his proposal, but she was not surprised when she saw just a few people raising their hands in favor. They did not understand what all of that was doing to them? When would they find the end of that spiral of violence.
Maybe Marcus is not wrong after all, she thought, surprised by herself. Maybe strict laws were the only way not to let people kill each other. But unforgiveness was what the Ark had taught them. Where did they draw the line? How could they build a functional society, one that was fair and safe, without bloodshed and death. Was it even possible to create one?
“I see,” Murphy said, disappointment on his face as he noticed that so few had agreed with him. “So, it’s right to string me up for nothing,” his voice broke as he kept with his speech, but gradually he started to yell in rage again. “But when this little bitch confesses, you wanna let her walk?” He looked at all of their faces and then he exploded again. “Cowards! All of you are cowards!”
“Hey, Murphy!” Bellamy called him, striding to reach where Murphy was standing. The other boy turned, hearing Bellamy’s voice. “It’s over,” he demanded a few inches from Murphy. Silence fell between them for some moments, and Lily really hoped that Bellamy had been able to stop him, before things would turn uglier once again.
Murphy took a couple of steps back, his hands raised. “Whatever you say, boss.” Lily let out a relieved breath as she saw Bellamy turning his back. For a fleeting second she thought she had seen him look over his shoulder at her, but before she could focus he had turned his back, making his way towards the tent. But suddenly, before any of them could say anything, Murphy grabbed a piece of wood and hit Bellamy hard on the head, making him fall to the ground.
“Bellamy!” Lily found herself yelling as she rushed forward, passing Murphy by so that she could kneel beside Bellamy, laying on his side. Murphy had knocked him out. As she turned, she noticed Octavia trying to dash forward towards Murphy, but Jasper pushed her back, just to be hit in the face by Murphy’s punch.
“Come on,” he said to some of the guys that had raised his hand just before, “Let’s get the girl.” They rushed towards the tent, Lily’s trembling when they pushed away the cloth to see inside. But once they did, there was no one inside.
Murphy groaned angrily, before turning to the woods, “Charlotte!” His yell was able to make Lily tremble, as he frantically looked around, “Charlotte, I know you can hear me!” he yelled again, “And when I find you, you’re gonna pay!”
He was making everything worse than it already was.
“Murphy, stop it!” she yelled still knelt next to Bellamy, a hand on his arm, as her eyes searched for Murphy’s. When he heard his voice, he slowly turned towards her, he was blinded by rage.
“Not happening,” he said, shaking his head. Then she saw him, kneeling to take another piece of wood, while the other guys gathered next to him.
“Please,” she said, “We can still fix it.”
Murphy looked at her quietly for a moment, before shaking his head, “I’m about to,” he said, “Stay out of this, Lily. Come on!” And then he and the other five boys ran out in the woods, to search for Charlotte.
Lily felt her hands trembling even harder as she watched Murphy and the others disappear into the trees, branches cracking beneath their frantic steps. She spun back to Bellamy, still sprawled on the ground, his chest rising and falling shallowly.
“Bellamy… Bellamy, wake up,” she whispered, leaning closer. With gentle fingers, she brushed his hair away from his forehead. There was no sign of blood. That should be a good sign. She hoped.
Suddenly, a voice reached her, full of panic.
“Bell!”
Octavia dropped down beside them, her hair loose around her face, eyes wide with fear. She reached for her brother’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
“Bellamy, come on, open your eyes. Bell, please!”
“He’s coming around,” Lily said, keeping her voice as calm as she could, even though her heart pounded. “Murphy hit him pretty hard.”
“Damn him,” Octavia said, her eyes flashing with worry and rage, but she turned back to her brother. “Bell, wake up. You can’t just lie here.”
Then unexpectedly, Bellamy let out a low groan. His eyelids twitched, then slowly lifted, dazed brown eyes locking onto hers.
“Lily…?” he mumbled, voice rough and unfocused. And then he noticed his sister. “O…?” He winced, trying to sit up.
“Easy, don’t move yet,” Lily said, gently gripping his arm. “You took a pretty bad hit.”
But Bellamy ignored her, pushing himself up to sit despite the pain. Lily and Octavia shared a look before both helped him get more comfortable as he settled down, making sure he wouldn’t faint again.
“Murphy…” he said, holding his head. “Where is he?”
“He’s after Charlotte,” Lily said. “He took five guys and ran into the woods.”
Bellamy drew in a harsh breath, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Shit.” He dragged a shaky hand over his face.
“I’ll go get some water,” Octavia said, glancing anxiously between them. “Don’t move, Bell.”
“No, there’s no time,” Bellamy said firmly, grabbing her arm as she started to stand. “I have to go search for her. And I need you to stay here. If Murphy comes back, I want you at camp.”
Octavia hesitated, glaring at her brother. “But—”
“O,” he said firmly, despite the pain.
Octavia pressed her lips together, furious tears shining in her eyes, but she didn’t argue further. She knelt beside Bellamy, touching his arm one last time. “Be careful,” she said softly. Bellamy gave a curt nod.
Lily frowned at him. “You can’t go alone,” she said, making his gaze shift to her. For a moment, he just stared at her, as though measuring something deep behind her eyes. But he didn’t answer.
Instead, Bellamy tried to get to his feet, staggering slightly, and Lily instantly reached out, gripping his arm to steady him. He glanced down at her hand on his sleeve, then met her eyes with a look halfway between gratitude and stubborn pride.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, but didn’t pull away.
“Sure,” Lily said softly, not believing it for a second. “But I’m coming with you.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, but she didn’t let it go.
“Listen,” she said stubbornly, “We can stay here, wasting time arguing about whether I’ll be coming or not, or we can move and try to stop Murphy before he does something incredibly stupid.” His eyes widened at her words. “Your choice,” she said finally.
Bellamy held her gaze for another second, then let out a shaky breath.
“Fine,” he said finally, turning toward the trees, moving stiffly but with determined steps.
Lily fell into stride beside him, scanning the shadows between the trunks. The forest seemed thicker than ever, closing in around them as the sun slipped lower in the sky. She hadn’t even realized how much time had passed since the beginning of that day.
They moved through the trees, branches snapping under their boots, the air thick with the smell of moss and damp earth. Lily kept stealing glances at Bellamy as he walked beside her, and little by little his steps grew steadier, his eyes sharpening as he scanned the forest ahead. He looked stronger now, as if the blow to his head had been nothing but a fleeting inconvenience.
But Lily couldn’t ignore the way his jaw clenched every so often, or how his fingers curled tightly around the strap of the knife at his belt.
For a moment, she thought about keeping quiet. Letting the silence swallow everything that had just happened. It would be easier. Safer.
But the images kept flooding back anyway: Bellamy stepping closer to Murphy, the crowd chanting his name, the moment he pushed past her and kicked the bucket from under Murphy’s feet.
Her chest squeezed painfully as she remembered Murphy gasping and clawing at the rope, the camp roaring for blood around them.
She folded her arms tight across her chest as they walked, as if trying to shield herself from the chill creeping under her skin. Part of her wanted to say nothing. To try and forget everything that had happened that day. But the silence felt heavier than the forest pressing in around them.
She turned her head, studying Bellamy’s profile in the shifting light, the strong line of his jaw set in determination, the faint lines of strain around his eyes. She needed to know if he regretted it—or if this was who he truly was.
She took a slow breath. And finally, she spoke.
“Bellamy.”
He glanced over at her, one brow furrowing.
“Why did you kick that bucket?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her best effort to keep it steady. “You told Murphy that you gave the people what they wanted, but this can’t be.”
Bellamy scoffed, running a hand roughly through his hair as he kept walking, branches snapping beneath his boots. “What the hell else was I supposed to do, Lily? That was the only way to bring back order.”
Lily let out a disbelieving chuckle. “So the solution was to hang him? To make them happy so they’ll still want you as their leader—is that it?”
Bellamy stopped so abruptly she nearly crashed into him. He turned on her, his shoulders tense, eyes blazing with frustration. “You know I was against what Clarke wanted to do,” he snapped. “But what choice did I have? The entire camp was screaming for his blood. You saw them!”
Lily met his glare without flinching. “Kicking that bucket—that wasn’t you stopping them. That was you giving them exactly what they wanted. You became part of that mob, Bellamy. No wonder Murphy’s filled with rage right now.”
Bellamy let out a harsh laugh, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. “So what, you’re defending Murphy now? Even after what he’s doing?”
“I’m not defending him!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I’m saying what happened was wrong. You almost killed someone who might have been innocent—and you did it to stay in control.”
As she spoke, her thoughts flickered to her father, and she couldn’t shake the sick feeling that Bellamy and Marcus Kane were more alike than she’d ever wanted to believe. Keeping order by doing terrible things wasn’t justice. Making mobs happy didn’t stop chaos.
“What are we going to do about Charlotte?” she asked after a tense silence.
Bellamy let out another humorless laugh. “I can’t believe you right now,” he said, shaking his head, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “She’s a child.”
“She killed Wells, Bellamy,” she stated, like he had forgotten it. And she got even more confused when she saw Bellamy shake his head, his tone dropping, “It wasn’t her fault.” He then turned to keep walking, but Lily could not let this slide.
“What do you mean it’s not her fault?” she asked following his steps, so that she could catch up with him. “She said it was her? Something else happened?” But he didn’t even turn his head, moving forward with determined steps. “Bellamy?” she called again, more urgently. And when he still didn’t answer, she reached out and grabbed his arm. “Bellamy!”
He finally stopped, and when he turned to face her, his eyes were different. They weren’t blazing anymore. They were lowered, shadows gathering in their depths. There was something raw and almost broken there.
“Bellamy?” she said again, much softer this time, her hand still clutching his arm.
There was a heavy silence, and then Bellamy finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was my fault.”
Lily blinked, not understanding. “Your fault…? How could this be your fault?”
His eyes flickered up to hers, full of turmoil, as if he was trying to keep his usual composure but couldn’t hold it together anymore.
“Charlotte… she did it because of what I said that night. About slaying your demons. She thought I meant… this.”
Lily closed her eyes, the anger draining from her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like yelling at him anymore.
“Bellamy,” she said gently, searching his face as she moved her hand down to his. Her fingertips brushed his knuckles lightly. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You were trying to help her.”
“And she killed Wells instead,” he said bitterly. But he didn’t pull away when her hand touched his.
She felt her heart grow heavier seeing him like this. He had put himself in a leadership position, but things were much more difficult than what any of them had thought it would have been.
“Alright, listen.” She squeezed his hand gently, drawing his gaze back to her. “We’ll find Charlotte. We’ll bring her back. And then we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”
Their eyes met. For a moment, his expression was unreadable—but then he nodded, slowly.
She nodded back. And just before letting go of his hand, she tugged lightly, keeping his attention on her.
“This one’s not on you, Bellamy,” she said quietly.
Bellamy stood there for another moment, as though gathering himself, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths. Then he gave Lily’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“Come on,” he murmured. His voice was rough, but steadier now.
He turned and started forward again, his shoulders squared, his steps purposeful. Lily fell beside him, watching him from the corner of her eye as they moved deeper into the forest.
The sky above was black now, pin pricked with distant stars. The trees loomed like tall shadows, branches whispering against each other in the night breeze. The air smelled of damp leaves and cold earth.
At first, Bellamy moved quietly, lost in thought, his gaze distant, his jaw still tight with something unspoken. But little by little, Lily noticed how the old Bellamy seemed to creep back into his posture. His eyes sharpened as he scanned the dark woods, and his hand hovered closer to the knife strapped at his hip. His stride lengthened, confident again, as though he was setting himself firmly back into the role of leader.
Lily kept silent, feeling the chill of the night sink into her bones. She hugged her arms around herself, stealing glances at the way moonlight glinted off Bellamy’s hair and traced the hard lines of his face.
He always finds his way back to himself, she thought, both awed and frustrated by it.
They pushed through a dense cluster of pine branches, and Bellamy held one aside for her to slip through.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, eyes scanning the shadows.
Then, just as they stepped into a small clearing, Bellamy suddenly froze.
Lily nearly bumped into his back. “What—”
“Shh,” he breathed, lifting a hand to signal her to stay still. His eyes narrowed, locked on something ahead.
The silence of the woods seemed to press around them, heavy and tense. Then came a faint sound—a soft crunch of leaves under cautious feet. Another. And another.
Lily held her breath, her eyes darting across the clearing, trying to pierce the darkness. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Then she saw a small figure emerge from between two trees, pale in the starlight, hair tangled and eyes wide. Bellamy slipped forward through the shadows, moving quietly until he was close enough to grab the girl. Charlotte started to scream, but he quickly covered her mouth so no one would hear.
Lily immediately looked around. Just five minutes earlier, they had seen torches moving through the woods. If that was Murphy, it wouldn’t take him long to find them—and if he found Charlotte, he would take his revenge on her.
They didn’t need Charlotte’s screams drawing attention, because as Lily glanced around, she saw those torches moving closer in the dark.
“Bellamy,” she whispered, moving over to where he was still holding Charlotte. “They’re here.”
“Shit…” he muttered, just before Murphy’s voice echoed through the clearing.
“Charlotte!” he called. “You can’t hide forever.” His voice was getting closer. “Don’t worry—we won’t hurt you.”
Lily and Bellamy exchanged a tense look.
“Maybe I could let them find me,” Lily suggested. “That way, you two would have more time to run in the other direction.”
Bellamy’s eyes widened at her. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.
“He’s looking for Charlotte, not me,” she argued back, but he glared at her, shaking his head.
“Not a chance,” he said firmly. “Come on.” And he started moving into the woods, with Lily following close behind.
But something was wrong with Charlotte. She didn’t look even a little relieved to see Bellamy, and as they moved, she struggled more and more to break free from his hold.
“Let me go!” Charlotte protested, squirming against his grip.
“I’m trying…” Bellamy tried to explain, but the child kept thrashing restlessly, so he tugged her closer. “Hey, I’m trying to help you.”
“I’m not your sister!” she spat at him. “Just stop helping me!”
Lily blinked in confusion at Charlotte’s words. She felt for Bellamy as she saw the hurt flicker across his face. The girl wasted no time—in the moment Bellamy loosened his grip, she tore herself free and started running back in the direction they’d come from.
“What is she doing?!” Lily exclaimed as Bellamy ran after the child, grabbing her arm.
“Are you trying to get us all killed?” Bellamy demanded, but Charlotte refused to surrender.
“Just go, okay?” she almost pleaded. “I’m the one they want.”
Lily stepped closer to them, her eyes darting between Bellamy and Charlotte. Bellamy’s expression was tight, a mix of confusion and pain.
“Listen to me, Charlotte,” he said, leaning down to look her in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you.”
Charlotte seemed on the verge of tears. “Please, Bellamy.” Lily stared at her, trying to understand what had made the girl so terrified. Did she not want to go back? Was she afraid of what would happen if she did? It was the only explanation Lily could think of.
Then Charlotte tried to break free again. Bellamy swiftly scooped her into his arms to move faster.
“Lily, let’s go,” he said. She only nodded, following him silently—but kept glancing over her shoulder. The torches were getting closer again.
Murphy, she thought. She was about to call out to Bellamy, but Charlotte suddenly yelled instead.
“Murphy!” she cried. “I’m over here!”
Lily turned sharply toward the torches. The silence that followed was too complete. They must have heard her for sure. And indeed, she saw the lights change direction, heading straight for them.
“Charlotte, what are you doing?” Lily demanded, hurrying after Bellamy.
“Come on out, Charlotte!” Murphy’s voice rang out, closer than before. “Come on out!” They were moving faster now, and Charlotte kept screaming for Murphy. Why did she want him to find her? He’d made it perfectly clear he meant to hurt her. Why?
“Put me down,” Charlotte insisted, twisting in Bellamy’s arms. He kept running without pausing. Lily kept glancing back. The torches were nearly upon them.
Suddenly, as Lily stumbled along behind Bellamy, she felt an arm shoot out and stop her short. She gasped and twisted around—to find that Bellamy had blocked her with his arm, pulling her back before she could tumble off a steep drop hidden by the darkness.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but the torches were just a few feet away now.
“It’s a dead end,” Lily said, breathless, locking eyes with Bellamy. “What do we do?”
But Murphy’s voice cut through the trees. “Bellamy!”
Lily stiffened, glancing over her shoulder as the torchlight flickered closer, casting harsh orange light across Murphy’s face. He came striding into view, eyes wild, breath steaming in the cold air.
He spotted Bellamy first, then Charlotte trembling in his arms. Then his gaze slid sharply to Lily.
“Well, look who’s here,” Murphy sneered, tilting his head as he advanced a step. Bellamy immediately stepped in front of Lily and Charlotte, planting himself protectively between them and Murphy.
Lily clenched her fists. “Murphy, don’t do this.”
Murphy barked a short, cold laugh. “I told you to stay out of this, sweetie,” he said, eyes shifting back to Bellamy. “You can’t fight all of us, Bellamy. Give her up.”
The other five boys emerged from the trees, torches burning in their hands.
Lily swallowed hard, glancing up at Bellamy with rising worry. There were too many of them.
“Maybe not,” Bellamy said, his voice hard. “But I guarantee I’ll take a few of you with me.”
Lily’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm, her fingers trembling. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say. “Bellamy…”
He turned to her, but before he could reply, Clarke’s voice rang out from the woods, clear and desperate.
“Bellamy, stop!” she cried, stepping quickly between the two sides. Finn appeared just moments later, flanking her.
“Bellamy, this has gone too far,” Clarke said, looking frantically between him and Murphy.
Murphy stared at Clarke, his expression unreadable. Clarke kept talking, trying to soothe the tension. “Just calm down. We’ll talk about this.”
“Murphy, please, listen to her,” Lily pleaded, her hand still wrapped around Bellamy’s arm. Murphy looked at her, and for a second it seemed like he might be listening—but then his eyes found Charlotte, and rage surged back into his face.
Before anyone could react, Murphy lunged forward and grabbed Clarke, pressing a knife to her throat.
“I’m sick of listening to you talk!” he shouted, glaring at Clarke.
“Let her go!” Finn yelled, panic tightening his voice as he took a step forward.
Murphy snapped the knife toward Finn, eyes blazing. “I’ll slit her throat!” he snarled.
“Murphy, this won’t fix anything!” Lily cried, stepping forward. Instantly, Bellamy’s arm shot out, blocking her path.
“I think this will,” Murphy said, eyes boring into Lily’s. He was trembling with fury, completely blinded by it. Lily wanted to believe he wouldn’t actually kill Clarke—but she wasn’t sure anymore.
“Please. Please don’t hurt her!” Charlotte shouted, her voice cracking as she stood a few feet behind Bellamy and Lily.
Murphy turned his head slowly toward the little girl, his grip on Clarke still tight. “Don’t hurt her?” he repeated, voice icy. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. You come over to me right now, and I’ll let her go.”
What was he planning to do to her? He’d calmed down for half a second—but one look at his eyes told Lily he was completely beyond reason.
“Charlotte, don’t do it!” Clarke cried, her voice trembling.
“Murphy,” Lily tried again, shoving Bellamy’s arm away so she could step closer. Their eyes met, and she spoke as gently as she could. “Please. There’s no coming back from this.”
Murphy’s hand trembled around the knife. “Stay back, Lily! I mean it,” he shouted, and Lily gasped as the blade pressed closer to Clarke’s throat.
“Okay,” Charlotte said softly, drawing all their attention. She took a step toward Murphy.
Bellamy instantly moved in front of her. “Don’t do it, Charlotte!” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders. But the little girl struggled.
“No, no!” she cried. “I have to!”
Bellamy finally managed to stop her, turning to keep an eye on Murphy.
“Murphy,” he said, voice firm, “This is not happening.”
But it was Charlotte who spoke next, her voice frail and thin as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t let any of you get hurt anymore,” she whispered. “Not because of me. Not after what I did.”
Without warning, Charlotte turned her back at them and hurled herself off the edge of the cliff.
Lily’s entire body froze as Clarke and Bellamy screamed the girl’s name. For a moment, Lily couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in her ears. Hot tears spilled down her face as she turned to look at Murphy. His eyes were wide, frozen in shock as he stared at the edge.
What have we done? she thought, as their eyes met. Nothing would have happened if they hadn’t all been dragged into this spiral of violence.
Rain began to fall, cool drops spattering through the branches above them, as if the sky itself was mourning. The silence of the night seemed to swallow Clarke’s sobs, making everything feel unbearably real. Lily trembled, unable to move, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Then, suddenly, she heard a sharp intake of breath and turned—just in time to see Bellamy launch himself at Murphy. He slammed into him, dragging him to the ground and landing punch after punch to Murphy’s face.
Lily blinked back tears, her body shaking from the cold rain and the shock of Charlotte’s fall. She stared at Bellamy as he punched Murphy again and again, each blow harder than the one before.
“Bellamy!” she shouted, her voice raw and cracking. She stumbled forward and grabbed his arm, but he jerked it away, refusing to stop. “Stop! You have to stop!”
Bellamy didn’t even look at her, his knuckles slick with blood. Murphy’s groans rose weakly beneath the pounding rain.
“Bellamy! You’ll kill him!” Clarke cried from behind them.
Lily tried once more to pull him back, but she couldn’t manage it. At last, Finn lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Bellamy from behind and hauling him off Murphy.
“Get off me!” Bellamy roared, still twisting, eyes wild with rage.
Finn kept wrestling Bellamy away, while Clarke hovered close by, her eyes wide with panic.
Lily dropped to her knees beside Murphy, her hands hovering uncertainly over him. Blood ran from his nose and the corner of his mouth, mixing with rain and dirt as it dripped onto his jacket.
“Murphy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Hey… can you hear me?”
His eyelids fluttered open, revealing unfocused eyes. A ragged cough wracked his chest, and more blood spilled from his lips. Lily reached out, gently tilting his face so he wouldn’t choke.
“He deserves to die!” she heard Bellamy cry, his rage made Lily tremble.
She blinked, rain and tears mingling on her cheeks. She just wished for all of that to stop. She wanted for them all to calm down, and stop with all that bloodshed. She just wanted a moment to breathe and cry.
“No!” Clarke said, managing to put herself before Bellamy, “We don’t decide who lives and dies. Not down here!” Lily looked up at Clarke, a spark of relief flared in her chest. But how would they do it. Words were not enough, nobody listened if they didn’t want to.
Was that what you mean, Marcus? She found herself thinking, as she looked down at Murphy. Without authority people get violent, people get dangerous.
“So help me God, if you say the people have a right to decide!” He protested, but Clarke shook her head.
“No!” she exclaimed, “I was wrong before, okay? You were right!” Bellamy let out a shaky breath, as Clarke turned and her gaze met Lily’s. “Sometimes it’s dangerous to tell people the truth.” From Lily’s eyes fall another tear, as she looks down to check on Murphy. Clarke turned to Bellamy, “But if we’re gonna to survive down here, we can’t just live by ‘whatever the hell we want’, we need rules.”
Rules could also be violent and dangerous, though. They had seen it all their lives. How could they find the right balance? What was the right way of creating a society that won’t end up killing itself? Lily was afraid of rules, but she was also afraid of chaos. What was the right thing to do?
Bellamy passed a tired hand over his face, before turning to Clarke, “And who makes the rules, huh?” he asked angrily, “You?”
Clarke took a step forward, “For now, we make the rules.”
The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and Lily could see that the rage in Bellamy’s eyes had not disappeared yet.
“What then?” he asked Clarke, pointing at Murphy, still lying on the ground, “We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?”
“No,” Clarke protested, before giving Murphy another glance. Lily down herself frowning, seeing the strage light in her eyes, there was sadness, but there was not forgiving there. “We banish him,” she said finally. Lily’s eyes widened. Banish him? Her breath caught painfully in her throat. Send him out there, alone? That was just another way of killing him… only slower.
For a moment, Lily felt her chest squeeze as if a cold hand had closed around her ribs. Was that justice? Or just cruelty hiding behind different words?
She glanced at Murphy, still bleeding into the dirt, but he had them and their decision. She hated what he’d done. She hated the fear he put into everyone. But did he deserve to be left alone out there?
Lily’s eyes searched for Bellamy, but she knew it was pointless—he would never help Murphy in any way. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Bellamy striding toward where she was kneeling next to Murphy.
“Bellamy,” she said, her voice trembling in a last, desperate attempt to reach him. His dark eyes locked onto hers, but there was nothing soft in them—only cold determination and a glint of fury that chilled her blood.
“When will all of this end?” she whispered, her words barely audible over the steady hiss of the rain.
For a moment, Bellamy only stared at her, towering above her as water dripped from his hair and splattered against his shoulders.
“Once he’s gone,” he said at last, voice rough as gravel. Without another word, he seized Murphy by the front of his shirt and hauled him upright, dragging him toward the edge of the cliff where Charlotte had fallen just minutes before.
A strangled sound escaped Lily’s throat as she scrambled to her feet, nearly slipping in the mud as she rushed after them.
“Bellamy, don’t do this!” she shouted, but he didn’t even look back. Clarke called out too, her voice cracking, but Bellamy was locked onto Murphy, as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
Lily’s hands flew to her mouth as she saw just how little effort it would take for Bellamy to shove Murphy over the edge and into the darkness below.
“If I ever catch you near camp again, we’ll be back here,” Bellamy hissed, his face so close to Murphy’s that his breath misted in the cold night air. “Understand?”
Murphy gave the faintest of nods, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Bellamy released him with a violent shove that sent him sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain.
“And for the five of you,” Bellamy snapped, turning to glare at the boys who had followed Murphy, “you can either come back and follow me—or go off with him to die. Your choice.”
None of the boys answered, but the decision was written on every pale, frightened face.
Bellamy turned to leave, but Lily stepped into his path, planting herself firmly in front of him, chest heaving.
“Bellamy, we can’t just leave him here,” she said, voice shaking with both fear and conviction.
Bellamy stared at her, rain sliding down his cheeks like tears he refused to shed. For an instant, something flickered in his eyes—regret, or maybe exhaustion—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“It’s over, Lily,” he said flatly, his tone brooking no argument. “Let’s go.”
He brushed past her, leaving her standing there, struggling to catch her breath.
Are we really leaving him here? she thought, turning to look back at Murphy. We don’t know anything about this planet. Alone out here… he’ll die.
“Clarke,” Lily whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady as she glanced at the other girl. Clarke bit her lip, eyes brimming with tears, and shook her head slowly.
“It’s the only thing we can do, Lily,” she murmured, her voice raw, before following Bellamy into the shadows of the trees.
A bitter, trembling breath escaped Lily’s lips as she turned to Murphy, who was still sprawled on the ground, battered and bloodied, staring up at the sky as if he couldn’t quite comprehend how everything had ended up like this.
For a long second, Lily simply stood there, raindrops falling like cold needles onto her skin. Then, pressing her lips into a thin line, she dropped to her knees beside him, mud splashing around her shins. Her hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her shirt and tore off a strip of fabric. She gently pressed it into Murphy’s hand, her own fingers stained with blood and dirt.
“At least you’ll be able to clean your wounds,” she murmured, though her voice wavered.
Murphy stared at the scrap of fabric, his face pale and slack with shock, his eyes unfocused. For a moment, Lily wondered if he even understood what she was saying.
She swallowed hard, feeling a burning knot tighten in her throat. I wish none of this had happened, she thought desperately.
Raising her eyes, she met Murphy’s. His expression was utterly defeated, and yet there was a flicker of confusion—or maybe disbelief—that she was even still there beside him.
“I’m so sorry, Murphy,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slid down her rain-slicked cheeks. She hoped that he knew she meant it.
Suddenly, she felt a presence at her side and flinched at the gentle touch on her shoulder. She twisted around and found Finn there, his hair plastered to his forehead with rain, his eyes somber.
“Lily,” Finn said softly, his voice calm and patient as he offered his hand. “We need to go.”
Lily drew in another shuddering breath, her chest aching under the weight of it all. With one last, lingering look at Murphy, she slipped her trembling hand into Finn’s. He helped her to her feet, his grip firm and reassuring.
As they started back toward the dropship, Lily cast a final glance over her shoulder. Murphy was already swallowed by shadows and falling rain. She couldn’t see him anymore, and a silent prayer formed in her chest: Please, don’t let death find him so quickly.

Chapter Text

The walk back to the dropship had been silent and tense. Lily decided to walk in the back, pacing with Finn. Her body felt heavy, the exhaustion of the day was really getting into her, the last proof that that awful day had truly taken place. That Charlotte was dead, and that Murphy was soon to follow, as they had left him alone in the woods.
What would you have done, Marcus? She asked herself, finally realizing that she must have been really exhausted. Marcus would have floated Charlotte with no second thought, and the same would have happened to Murphy.
When she landed on Earth she really thought that they had a chance to start over, to find a new way of living, of being better than the people that had conditioned their lives on Ark. But they would always come down to the same kind of spiral. They needed strictness to not get dangerous. Was that what it really meant to be human? Suffer or make others suffer?
That thought made her sick.
I’m trying, mum, she thought, her eyes finding the sky that was finally clearing from the clouds, showing yet again the beautiful sight of the stars above them, as if her mother could see her now. She had always wanted for her to be kind, compassionate. But it’s difficult, she thought, trying to not let any tear roll down her eyes. That world was cruel, and she felt that everyday was getting harder than the one before.
“Hey,” Finn’s voice reached her, quiet just above a whisper. “Are you okay?”
Lily took a deep breath, her arms crossed above her chest, to try and keep her steady. She didn’t want to break down crying in front of everyone.
“I will be,” she whispered, without turning to look at him, but trying to force a smile, to let him know that she was appreciating his gesture. Finn had been the only one that did not have a part in what happened. And for now he was the only one that she felt truly comfortable around.
Her eyes moved up, finding Bellamy leading their group. He had not talked since what had happened, his posture was tense, and his knuckles were pale from how much he was clanching his fist. He was mourning Charlotte, and probably that would be a kind of wound that he would carry, like the many more he was already carrying.
She didn’t want to be angry at him, but on some level she was. To her it was not fair to banish Murphy, but she knew Bellamy would have killed him otherwise. There was no point in arguing, that was something that she was not sure they would ever find a common ground on.
“Finn,” Clarke’s voice spoke softly, Lily hadn’t noticed her stopping to a side to wait for them, “Can I talk with Lily alone for a moment?” Lily’s fingers clenched the fabric of her own jacket, as she saw Finn nodding and fastening his pace, while Clarke sided her.
There was tension between them. After what had happened that morning, they had no time to talk to each other.
“Hey,” Clarke spoke, her voice just above a whisper as she looked at Lily.
“Hey,” Lily answered dryly. Lily really didn’t want to feel anger towards her, but she did. She had warned her that there would have been consequences and she didn’t listen. Nothing would have happened, if Clarke would have listened.
“Do you know why I was in isolation?” Clarke’s words made Lily frown. She was not expecting that.
“No, I don’t,” Clarke had been arrested a few months before her, but even if she had heard about the imprisonment of Dr Griffin’s daughter, Marcus had always refused to tell her why.
“She broke the law,” he had answered her, like he always did. But Lily would never stop asking every time she heard of someone being found guilty of a crime.
“My dad had found out about the leak of oxygen,” Clarke spoke after drawing a shaky breath. “He wanted to tell everybody on the Arc, and I was ready to help him.” Clarke’s eyes glistened with new tears, but she was doing all she could to keep them to herself. “But my mother told Jaha what he wanted to do. And my father was floated,” Lily listened quietly, her heart dropped hearing that story. Abby Griffin had betrayed her husband like that.
“I will never forgive my mother for what she has done,” Clarke said, finally turning to her, “But… you think that there would have been a riot on the Ark if the people knew?” Lily’s eyes dropped, understanding now that Clarke had come from a place that was not just about anger for what happened to Wells, she believed in her father and found unjust what had happened to him. She was still fighting his battle. For a moment she felt jealous of that, she seemed to love her father deeply.
“I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure,” Lily answered honestly, glancing at the other girl. “But I don’t think that people handle these kinds of truths very well.”
Clarke seemed to think about it for a moment, before taking a breath, “My father thought people deserved the truth. That they could handle it. My mother thought people needed to be protected from it even at the cost of your loved ones.”
“You’re not your mother Clarke,” Lily said with a little shake of her head, “She made a choice, and it was all hers. It does not mean you’re going to do the same if you don’t want to.”
Clarke’s gaze dropped, as they kept on with their walk. Now Lily could understand why Clarke had been so extreme about what Lily was saying when they were speaking about the knife. To her hiding the truth meant betrayal, and the pain for what had happened to her dad only got her idea on that stronger.
She thought back to Marcus, but he was like a wall. He had never said anything, never shown any kind of nervousness even if he knew about the leak. His closeness really made him hard to read, but she was surprised at not feeling anger for that. Clarke’s mother had really betrayed her husband for the safety of everybody, while Marcus had only kept it to himself, trying to find a way to save people without them realizing it. Like Lily had tried to do that morning.
Maybe we are not so different, after all, she thought, feeling strange. It was the first time she had seen something that her and her father shared.
They finally made it to the camp. It was dark, only the light of the fireplace leading them inside. But no one was sleeping, they were waiting for Bellamy to return. As they made it to the center, Lily was standing on the side, her eyes fixed on the flames as Clarke and Bellamy started to explain what had happened out there. How Charlotte had died, and how Murphy had been left behind.
“That’s why we have decided to banish him from camp,” Clarke was saying, her voice ringing across the silent crowd.
Lily lifted her eyes from the flames. Her gaze instantly found Bellamy, standing near Clarke, shoulders rigid, arms crossed tight across his chest as if holding himself together by force. His jaw was clenched, eyes shadowed and distant as they swept the crowd.
But it wasn’t his face that caught Lily’s attention. It was his hands. Even in the dim glow of the fire, she could see the dark stains on his knuckles, the raw, torn skin where blood had crusted over. Her chest tightened at the sight.
Bellamy shifted his weight, lowering his arms for a second—and their eyes met.
“Anybody got a problem with that?” Clarke asked, looking around, but Lily was not surprised when she saw that nobody really cared about what had happened to Murphy. Or what would happen next.
Clarke’s voice eventually quieted, once she explained that there would be rules in the camp now, and that she and Bellamy would be in charge of keeping them.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, people began to shift, murmuring to each other in hushed voices. The crowd loosened, small knots of people peeling away toward the fires or disappearing into the shadows around the dropship. The tense circle that had held them all together finally broke apart, leaving only a few figures lingering near the center of camp.
Lily stayed where she was, arms crossed, feeling the weight of exhaustion and all the confusion swirling inside her. She was still angry at Bellamy—angry and hurt by what he’d done, and by how easily he seemed to slip back into the leader’s mask, as if none of it had torn him apart. And yet…
Her eyes drifted back to him. She noticed again his battered knuckles, the skin split and stained dark with dried blood. For a moment, she tried to look away. She wished she didn’t care that he’d hurt himself—that he was hurting at all—but deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.
Without quite deciding to, Lily took a small step forward.
Bellamy seemed to notice where she was looking. He quickly tucked his hands back under his arms, as if to hide them, breaking eye contact.
“Bellamy,” she said softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. He flinched at her touch, but didn’t pull away.
“Let me take a look at your hand,” she said, eyeing his knuckles.
Bellamy let out a sharp breath, glancing away. “They’re fine.”
“I’m sure,” she said not to believe him, “But it's better to clean them,” her voice gentle but firm. “Please. Just… let me help.”
Bellamy didn’t answer right away. His eyes shifted back to hers, shadows still swirling in their depths. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he nodded—just once.
“Fine.”
Lily gave a small nod in return. “Come on. Over here.” She gently steered him a few steps away from the others, toward a quieter corner of the camp where they had set the tent where they kept the medical supplies and clean water.
She slipped inside first, moving quietly between crates and shelves stacked with jars and folded scraps of cloth. She grabbed a metal bowl and filled it with some of the boiled water they’d left to cool earlier. Then she reached for a small pouch of dried thyme she’d gathered for moments like this.
Bellamy didn’t say anything, just watched her, the weight of everything that had happened still shadowing his eyes.
Lily dropped a pinch of thyme into the warm water, letting it steep for a few seconds, then dipped a clean strip of cloth into the mixture. She squeezed out the excess and gently began wiping the blood from his bruised knuckles.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
Bellamy didn’t answer right away. But he didn’t pull his hand back, either.
“I know you don’t agree with this,” he said, breaking the silence, but she didn’t look up, focusing her gaze on her work on his knuckles.
“Not now,” she said sharply, getting up so fast her chair scraped the ground. She crossed the small tent in two strides, pretending to rummage among the medical supplies for another rag. She didn’t need it—but she felt like she was suffocating sitting there, so close to him.
Images kept flashing in her mind—Bellamy stepping forward, kicking the bucket, the rope tightening around Murphy’s neck, Charlotte’s small body disappearing over the cliff, Murphy left alone in the dark woods. Her chest tightened painfully. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
“It was the right choice, Lily,” Bellamy said behind her. His voice was lower than usual, but firm. Like he was trying to convince both of them.
Lily stood with her back to him, fists clenched around the rag she’d grabbed. Her shoulders trembled. “I think none of us have done something right today,” she managed to say, though her voice wavered.
Bellamy shifted behind her, scraping his chair back. “He’s dangerous,” he said again, louder now, as if volume would make his point true.
Lily squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blink away the tears blurring her vision. She forced herself to breathe—but her breaths kept coming faster, almost like sobs. She lifted trembling fingers to swipe at her eyes, trying desperately to keep control.
“I know. I know,” she said, her voice trembling. “God, Bellamy, I know.”
“Then why are you defending him?” he snapped. His tone was harsh, frustration spilling over.
Lily turned to face him at last, the rag falling from her shaking fingers. Her chest was heaving, her face flushed and wet with tears she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes were wide, glittering with panic.
“Because nothing is right!” she cried out, her voice cracking like dry wood. “Nothing is ever right!”
Bellamy stiffened, staring at her, his eyes dark with worry.
Lily’s breath hitched, coming faster, as though the air itself was too thin. Her shoulders shook as words tumbled out of her in a rush.
“Because it doesn’t matter how hard we try—it’s so difficult. It’s always difficult. Bad things happen, and there’s no way for us to stop them. And I’m scared—” Her voice broke on a sob as she pressed a trembling hand against her chest, as if trying to keep her heart from splitting open. “I’m so scared of what’s going to happen. I’m scared that people I care about will die, and the only thing I can do is stand by and watch. I can’t—” She sucked in a sharp breath, like she was drowning. “I can’t do anything to change it…”
Bellamy’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at her last words, his jaw working silently for a second. Then, without saying anything, he stepped closer.
Lily felt herself take a stumbling step back, but Bellamy reached out, his hands moving gently to rest on her shoulders. His fingers were rough, still swollen from the fight, but his touch was careful, almost hesitant.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice lower now, softer. “Look at me.”
Lily tried, blinking hard through her tears, but everything was a blur. Her breaths kept coming too quick, shallow and sharp.
“Lily.” His thumbs brushed lightly over the fabric of her jacket sleeves as he held her steady. “Breathe with me.”
She shook her head, a sob tearing out of her chest. “I can’t—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice was firmer this time, the voice of someone used to giving orders, but edged with something gentler. “Come on. In.”
He exaggerated a slow, deep inhale, his chest expanding as he pulled in air. Lily tried to follow, but her breath hitched halfway, turning into a sob again.
“Try again,” Bellamy urged, his voice softer. “In. Hold it. Then out.”
He breathed out slowly, counting under his breath, and Lily forced her chest to follow the rhythm. She felt the trembling in her limbs start to ease, just a fraction, as she mimicked the rise and fall of his breaths.
Bellamy’s dark eyes stayed locked on hers, unwavering. “Good. One more.”
Lily drew in another shaky breath, this time a little deeper, and let it out in a trembling exhale. The edges of the tent seemed to steady around her.
“There you go,” Bellamy murmured, his thumbs still brushing gentle circles over her arms. “You’re okay. Hey look at me,” he said, making her look up, “You’re okay,” he repeated in a whisper.
Lily’s tears still fell, but her breathing was finally slowing. She let out a small, ragged laugh that was half a sob. “No, I’m not.”
Bellamy gave a humorless huff, shaking his head slightly. “None of us are.” He hesitated, eyes flicking between hers. “But you’re not alone, Lily. You hear me? You’re not alone in this.”
She tiredly smiled looking up at him, as more tears steamed down her face. His hand kept soothing the skin of her arm.
“You must think I’m so silly," she said, dropping her gaze feeling suddenly embarrassed for how she had broken down in front of him. “With all the things you have to think about. And I’m here crying.”
A flicker of a smile touched his lips, just for a second, before fading again. He glanced away, exhaling heavily. “Now you are being silly,” he said, reaching out so that he could take the rag that she had let go before.
“Wait,” she said, watching him walk towards the chair he was sitting on before. He glanced back at her when he heard her. “I’ll get you a clean one.” He nodded silently.
Lily turned to grab a clean rag and soaked it in the warm thyme-infused water. Her fingers were steadier now, though her eyes were still red and shining with tears. She squeezed out the excess water and walked slowly back to where Bellamy sat.
For a moment, she just stood there, looking at him. He had lowered his gaze to his bruised knuckles resting on his knees, shoulders slumped, as though all the weight of the day was pressing him into the chair.
“Bellamy…” she said softly.
He lifted his eyes to hers, dark and tired.
She swallowed, pressing the wet cloth gently against his torn skin. “Keeping things in order is not simple,” she murmured, her voice quiet but sure. “But I want you to know that I’m really grateful for what you and Clarke are doing.”
Bellamy blinked, his jaw tightening slightly as though fighting back emotion. He said nothing, but his eyes stayed locked on her face as she carefully wiped away the dried blood.
When she was done cleaning the wounds, she reached for a strip of cloth and began wrapping it around his knuckles, winding it gently but firmly. Her fingers brushed his skin with every pass of the fabric, her touch delicate.
“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she whispered, her voice catching on the girl’s name.
Bellamy closed his eyes for a second, as though the words cut deeper than any wound on his hands. When he opened them again, they were shining with unshed tears, but he held himself together.
Lily secured the bandage with a careful knot. Her fingertips lingered a moment longer over his hand, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
Bellamy didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers shifted slightly beneath hers, brushing against her palm. Lily felt her pulse flutter in her throat. She lifted her eyes to his and found him already looking at her, his expression raw and open in a way she almost never saw.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The hush of the tent seemed to press closer around them, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire outside. Lily’s breathing hitched as Bellamy leaned in the slightest bit, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.
She didn’t even realize she was leaning in too, drawn toward him as though some invisible force was pulling them together. Her hand slid higher up his arm, and his gaze flicked briefly to her lips.
Suddenly, a sharp spark snapped against her wrist—a tiny flash of light like static electricity. Lily gasped, recoiling slightly as a small jolt of pain shot through her arm.
Bellamy’s eyes widened. “Lily—?”
She stared down in shock just as her wristband gave a metallic click and fell away from her skin, landing with a soft clink on the floor between them.
What had just happened? She was confused—what had happened to her wristband?
Lily stared at it, breath caught in her throat, still feeling the tingling sensation on her skin where the wristband had just fried. And when she glanced up, her eyes met Bellamy’s, her cheeks still flushed from how close they’d just been seconds before. For a long second, neither of them moved.
She glanced up at Bellamy. He was there, looking at her, his face tense and unreadable. It suddenly hit her how close they’d been a second ago. How he’d leaned in. How she’d leaned in too.
Oh God… were we about to kiss?
The thought made her pulse jump, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Part of her wanted to deny it, to pretend she’d imagined the whole thing. But she hadn’t. She could still feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
Before she could say anything, Bellamy looked away, his jaw tightening. A moment later, he stood abruptly and crossed the tent in quick, tense strides. He shoved the flap aside, the fabric rustling sharply against the pole as he disappeared into the darkness outside.
And then he was gone, his footsteps fading fast into the darkness outside, leaving Lily standing there alone in the hush of the tent.
Her skin tingled where his hands had been on her arms, and she rubbed the spot lightly, as though trying to wipe away the feeling—and failing. A tight ache settled low in her chest, leaving her breath a little unsteady.
She felt disoriented, as if her thoughts were spinning in too many directions at once. Part of her wanted to pretend she’d imagined how close they’d come, the way he’d leaned in, the look in his eyes. But she hadn’t imagined it. She knew she hadn’t. And now he is gone.
She swallowed hard, pressing a hand over her ribs as if she could steady the uneasy flutter beneath. She hated that she felt so empty in the space he’d left behind.
Bending down, she picked up the fallen wristband, holding it carefully between her fingers. For a second, she stared at it without really seeing it, her mind still replaying those few moments over and over.
She wanted to tell herself it didn’t mean anything. That it was probably just the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the mess of the day. But as she stood there, alone in the quiet hush of the tent, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had wanted to kiss Bellamy.

Chapter Text

That night, Lily tossed and turned without finding any rest. Her mind was too busy circling around her missing wristband.
After it had broken against her skin, Lily had the chance to speak with Monty—and apparently, since he was sure he had figured out how to contact the Ark through the wristband, he had ended up frying them all. No one had theirs anymore.
It was a strange feeling. She still remembered when she’d thought about pulling it off on their first night on Earth. After that day—after discovering there was a reason behind their sudden departure—she had never wanted to take it off again. It had become almost natural to feel it wrapped around her arm, to touch it from time to time. But now it was gone. Her last link with the Ark. Her last connection to Marcus Kane.
She wondered if he had already seen that her signal was gone. If he was sad, thinking she was dead. Or maybe angry, or remorseful. Or maybe he had just felt nothing. His only concern was probably losing their only chance at the Ark’s survival. Always the same dignified and cold Councilor Marcus Kane.
Do you care a little? she thought, as if asking him directly. As if he could answer.
Lily pushed her hair back from her face and sat up in the quiet shadows of the dropship. She felt torn—angry at herself for still wanting Marcus to react, to feel something, anything. But she couldn’t stop replaying the memory of how he’d let the guards drag her away to the dropship, offering no goodbye, not even a word of encouragement. He hadn’t known whether she’d survive—and still, he hadn’t cared enough to say farewell. Why should he care now?
Lily wanted to move on, to let all this pain go and forget about her father. But knowing that Marcus was on the Ark, a dying spaceship, thinking they were all dead—that made her worry. Dying up there would be awful. Even if death was always awful.
Why do I care if he doesn’t? she asked herself.
Suddenly, voices outside cut through the silence.
“Hey, come here!” someone called, breathless with excitement. Lily tensed instantly, nerves on edge, fearing some new danger. But then she heard more voices—gasps and cries that sounded… almost joyful.
What the hell was happening?
She pushed herself to her feet and quickly crossed to the dropship hatch. She wasn’t the only one—other delinquents were stirring, drifting out of sleep, drawn toward the commotion outside.
As Lily stepped out, the cold night air hit her bare arms like ice. People were gathering, staring upward, their faces lit by a pale glow. Lily frowned and followed their gaze.
And then she saw it. Something was streaking across the sky, trailing fire as it fell.
“Bellamy, get out here!” Octavia’s voice rang out sharply, slicing through the night. Her eyes were fixed on the fiery streak blazing closer with every passing second.
Lily stood a few steps away, half-hidden in the shadows. Her breath hitched as the flap of Bellamy’s tent shifted—and then he stepped out into the pale silver wash of moonlight, shirtless, hair disheveled, but his eyes already scanning around.
She and Bellamy hadn’t talked since what had happened the night before. Not at all.
For a split second, something twisted in Lily’s chest. The memory of how close they’d come to kissing sparked like static under her skin, leaving her raw and restless. She tore her gaze away, jaw tight.
Pull yourself together, she scolded herself. You’ve seen him like this before. It doesn’t mean anything.
But then the flap rustled again—and Roma slipped out, wrapped in a blanket, hair falling loose over her shoulders. Then another girl followed, probably Bree.
Lily felt her mouth go dry. A faint, sharp pressure settled behind her ribs—cold and tight.
Of course. A humorless scoff caught in her throat. What had she expected, exactly?
She dragged her eyes away, forcing herself to focus on the crowd outside. People were craning their necks, staring upward. Lily followed their gaze again.
The bright shape streaked through the sky, coming closer and closer. Flames licked around its hull as it plunged lower and lower. For a moment, her brain refused to process it. Then, as the object tumbled closer, she recognized the bulky, round silhouette.
A dropship.
Shock twisted in her chest. The Ark was sending something—or someone—down.
Above them, the parachute burst open at last, white silk unfurling like a wound blooming in the darkness.
“They’re coming to help us,” Jones said, relief in his voice. “Now we can kick some Grounder ass.”
Lily unfolded her arms over her chest, the cold biting into her skin. Who had they sent down? A part of her wanted to feel hope at the sight of the dropship. Could Marcus have come to help them? But wasn’t that dropship too small? It didn’t look like the one they had been sent down on.
As the dropship disappeared from view, someone turned toward Bellamy.
“Do you think it landed far?”
“Shouldn’t they have dropped it closer to us?” Roma asked with a little frown.
Bellamy didn’t answer, and Lily felt the urge to turn. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder.
Bellamy was still staring at the sky—but there was nothing relieved or hopeful in his expression. His eyes were tight, shadowed, his jaw locked so hard a muscle ticked near his temple. His whole posture was rigid, like he was bracing for a blow.
Lily frowned, studying him, annoyance twisting into something sharper. Why did he look so bothered? That expression reminded her of the first days after landing—his obsession with wristbands, his indifference about the dying Ark. But this time, it was different. There was something she couldn’t name. And before she could study him more, he noticed her gaze. His eyes grew cold, then turned away.
“Jones, get the others and come in my tent,” he said, striding away.
Could she ever truly understand Bellamy Blake? She wasn’t sure anymore. When she thought badly of him, he acted brave and protective. And when she started thinking well of him, he turned cold, distant, even dangerous.
Her mind flashed back to when he gave Wells the knife to fight Murphy. And to how he had pushed that bucket under Murphy’s feet. All of that should have made her afraid of him—disgusted. But then there was how he cared for Octavia, how he’d protected Charlotte, saved Clarke’s and her life, how he hadn’t been able to kill Atom. Things she couldn’t forget either.
Who are you, Bellamy? she wondered, watching him walk away, quick and tense. What are you hiding?
“Seems like the Ark wanted to see if we’re still alive,” Jasper’s voice made Lily turn. He was walking toward her, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Let’s hope,” she said. If they knew the hundred were alive, there could still be hope for their people.
“I’m sorry I fried the wristbands,” he said. Monty had told her Jasper was the one who connected the wire that ended up frying them. Monty felt guilty for not foreseeing it, and Jasper felt guilty for making the connection.
But Lily didn’t agree. She looked up at him with a gentle smile and touched his forearm.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “We’re doing what we can with what we have. Things like this happen.”
Jasper gave her a small smile before glancing toward Bellamy’s tent.
“What do you think they’ll do?” he asked. “Clarke’s not here.”
That was true. Clarke had disappeared with Finn the night before. Since she and Bellamy usually made decisions together, that left Bellamy in charge.
“Probably they’ll go look for the dropship,” she guessed. Whoever had landed would be confused and vulnerable out there.
“Would you go?” he asked curiously.
Lily’s eyes shifted toward Bellamy’s tent. She wanted to go. She was curious. But she didn’t want to talk to him. Not now.
“It’s not up to me,” she said, glancing at Jasper. “I don’t make the rules.”
With a last smile, she made her way to the medical tent. She had been organizing it for days—there was still so much to do: plants, infusions, basic remedies.
I can’t sleep anyway, she thought, passing by Bellamy’s tent.
She wondered what they were deciding inside. But she wouldn’t ask. If he needed her help, he would come to her. But something told her he wouldn’t. And honestly, she preferred it that way.
Her eyes immediately found the place where they’d sat the night before. She flushed, still feeling his touch against her skin, his lips leaning closer.
I’m being silly, she thought, tearing her gaze away from the chairs. They’d been emotional, overwhelmed by Charlotte and Murphy.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself, trying not to focus on the tight, heavy sensation in her chest.
With a final look at the chairs, Lily knelt beside a makeshift table—a dented metal panel pried from the dropship, now resting on two stacked crates.
Around her, salvaged plastic cups and food tins held dried plants in various stages of preparation.
The inside of the tent smelled faintly of crushed leaves and damp earth.
She picked up a flat stone she’d found by the river and began grinding a strip of bark with a rounded pebble, slow and steady. It was crude, but it worked. The friction released a bitter, sharp scent—salicin. Good for fever.
Next, she sorted through some mallow and yarrow leaves, laying them carefully on a folded cloth. They needed to dry completely before she could turn them into poultices.
Her hands moved with quiet precision, but her mind refused to settle. Every time she brushed a strand of hair from her face, her gaze flicked to the chairs again—remembering Bellamy’s touch.
God, Lily. Stop, she scolded herself.
Just as well, she thought, setting the bark powder aside and reaching for the next bundle of herbs. She had work to do.
Time passed without her noticing. The only moments she looked up were when the tent flap rustled. But no one came.
She didn’t know how long she had been working before someone finally stepped inside. Her heart skipped a beat—but it was only Harper.
She felt oddly disappointed.
She really needed to pull herself together.
“No sleep?” Harper asked, moving to the barrel of clear water they had stored there. She was a sweet girl. Lily had spoken with her a few times. She still wondered what someone like her had done to end up among the hundred—but never dared to ask.
“Not quite,” Lily replied with half a smile.
Harper nodded. “I need to fill these bottles,” she said, showing the containers they had found in the dropship.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Lily replied, returning to her work. She heard Harper chuckle as she moved to the barrels.
Lily glanced up briefly—just as Harper passed by those chairs. Her thoughts went back to Bellamy again.
“I thought you’d be with the group going after the dropship,” Lily asked, trying to sound casual.
“I am, actually,” Harper said. Lily frowned and looked up.
“Bellamy said we’ll go in the morning.”
“In the morning?” she repeated, watching Harper nod while filling the last bottle. “What if they need help now?”
“I don’t know,” Harper said with a shrug. “Bellamy’s orders. Try to get some sleep.”
Then she left Lily alone in the tent, her head buzzing with questions.
That didn’t make sense. Whoever had landed might need help. And they needed them.
What are you doing, Bellamy? she wondered. Would he really care so little about the people on the Ark?
But Lily knew Bellamy cared. She was sure of it.
Then why wouldn’t he want their people to come down? Was it just anger?
Can it be? she asked herself.
Her leg bounced up and down nervously. She was trying to shake off that feeling—the one that told her to go ask Bellamy what he was doing, and why he wasn’t leading a party to the dropship. She wanted to understand if he even knew that someone might need their help.
Do you even care? she asked herself as her eyes kept darting toward the flap of the tent. With a groan, she finally rose to her feet, brushing dust from her knees, and headed toward the entrance, silently reproaching herself for not being able to stop needing clarification from him.
“Not everything needs fixing, Lily,” she remembered Murphy telling her. And maybe that was true. But people needed help—and if Bellamy was being selfish, she wanted to hear it from him.
She moved the flap with her hand to step outside. It was still dark, but dawn wasn’t far off. The air felt less chilly than it had in the middle of the night. Probably in an hour, the sun would start casting that beautiful orange glow just above the trees. Dawn was probably Lily’s favorite thing she had seen on Earth so far.
“Lily,” Clarke’s voice made her turn to see her and Finn walking toward her.
“Where have you been?” Lily asked, and she didn’t miss the small glance Clarke and Finn exchanged—a subtle smile crossed both their faces. They seemed closer than they had been before. Much closer. Lily felt her lips twitch upward but chose to let it go. Crossing her arms, she asked, “Have you seen the dropship?”
Clarke’s eyes lit up at the mention. “We should go find out who it is,” she said quickly. “Did someone already leave?”
Lily let out a breath, the faint smile vanishing from her face, and her expression made Finn frown. “No one left,” she explained. “Harper just told me Bellamy wants to go in the morning.”
“In the morning?” Clarke asked with a confused frown. Lily shared the sentiment entirely.
“Where is he?” Clarke pressed, her tone firmer now.
“I was about to go talk to him,” Lily answered, and Clarke gave a short nod.
“Let’s go together.”
Lily let Clarke walk past her while she and Finn exchanged another look. “Worried about something?” he asked. Lily looked down.
There were many reasons she wanted to speak with Bellamy, and only one of them made her truly nervous. She had carried suspicions about him since they landed, and now it felt like she couldn’t let them go.
“No, it’s alright,” she replied quietly, following Clarke, but her mind was entirely on Bellamy. Why did he want to keep the Ark away? Anger? Resentment? But the whole thing about getting everyone to remove their wristbands had always seemed like more than just defiance. It almost felt like he didn’t want to keep the Ark away at all—but then, why? He hated the privileged, she knew that. But the working class? He came from that life. Didn’t he care about those people? And now someone had crashed on the ground. Maybe he thought it was someone from the elite.
Maybe he thinks it’s Marcus, the thought only crossed her mind now. What if it was Marcus? What if he ended up in the woods, alone, caught by Grounders? She resented him for many things, but she didn’t want him to be vulnerable down here, not knowing what dangers surrounded them. And she hated that she still felt so much worry about her father's well-being.
“Be kind, Lily,” she muttered to herself as Clarke moved the flap of Bellamy’s tent and stepped inside. Lily followed quickly—and immediately wished she hadn’t. Bellamy wasn’t there. But Roma and Bree were, wearing nothing but their underwear, both scrambling to grab something to cover themselves.
“Ever heard of knocking, bitch?” Roma snapped at Clarke, just before noticing Lily. “Oh, great. It’s a freak show.” She groaned when Finn entered as well, looking around with a frown. “Anyone else want to take a look?”
Lily felt a surge of anger rise in her chest. She let out a slow breath. “Nobody cares, Roma,” she said flatly. “Where’s Bellamy?”
“He took off a while ago,” Roma answered with a shrug, and Lily’s eyes widened. He took off? Where?
“Gear’s gone,” Finn said with a worried tone, drawing both Clarke’s and Lily’s attention toward the pile of missing supplies. What the hell was going on?
“He told everyone to stay,” Clarke said in alarm, turning to Finn. “Whatever’s in that thing, he wants it. We’ve got to get there before he does.”
Lily was confused. What could possibly be inside that dropship to make him act like this? What was he looking for? He couldn’t be doing this just out of anger or resentment. What if he’s scared? she thought. That was the only thing that made sense. The way he’d acted since their landing, the way he was acting now—leaving on his own, like he had something to face alone. Maybe he was scared of something in that dropship. Or of someone. But why? And what was he planning to do?
“This isn’t your fault, Clarke,” Finn said, noticing how tense she was.
“I should’ve known he’d go for that radio,” Clarke’s words made Lily frown.
“What radio?” she asked, voicing her confusion as she stepped forward to walk beside Clarke. The girl turned to her.
“That ship is too small to be a dropship,” Clarke explained, “but there could be a radio.”
“We could speak to the Ark,” Lily said, thinking out loud. They could let them know they weren’t dead. That Earth was survivable. That meant they could follow them down soon. “Oh my God…” Lily suddenly realized. Bellamy might really want that radio. He didn’t want them to contact the Ark—just like he hadn’t wanted them to keep the wristbands. Could he actually be trying to take away their last chance to talk to the Ark?
Why, Bellamy? she thought as she followed Clarke and Finn, not fully listening to what they were saying. She was too wrapped up in thoughts of what Bellamy might do—and, more importantly, why. No one would do something like that out of pure anger. That was fear. But what could scare him so deeply?
She had no way of knowing. Bellamy was closed off, and he never shared much about himself. But if she’d learned one thing about him, it was that, deep down, he was a good person. Slay your demons, he had told Charlotte that night in the cave, so they wouldn’t be able to hurt her while awake. What are you so scared of? Her heart ached with both sorrow and worry. He could make dangerous decisions when he wasn’t thinking clearly. The way he had kicked that bucket still made her tremble. He had done it because he saw no other way out.
We have to stop him, she thought, clenching her fists.
“Clarke,” she said, catching up to her and making both her and Finn turn toward her, “I’m coming too.” Clarke observed her in silence for a moment. Her eyes seemed to study her, searching for something, but in the end, she didn’t argue. She simply nodded. “Let’s go.”
Lily felt a strange heaviness settle in her chest. She wanted to understand what was wrong with Bellamy—what could drive him to act this way. She had spent too long trying to figure him out, asking herself questions he would never answer unless pushed. Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was none of her business. But she couldn't help it. And if he was walking into something alone—scared, angry, or ready to do something unforgivable—she needed to be there. She didn’t know exactly why, but she wanted to understand. To stop him, if she had to. Or maybe just to prove to herself that she hadn’t been wrong about him. Or maybe, that she had.

Chapter Text

They ran through the woods, as the rays of sun started to filter through the leaves of the trees, over them. But even though the sky seemed to announce a clear day, there wasn’t anything that made her feel lighter in her heart.
Clarke was nervous and livid as they followed Finn. He had been tracking Bellamy’s tracks for a while now, and Lily found herself feeling a strange kind of anticipation at the thought of meeting Bellamy, and knowing what he might have done. She needed to know why he was so obsessed to not let anyone of the Ark come down.
“Should we split up?” Finn proposed without stopping his run.
“Yeah,” Clarke said, “I’ll go this way.” Without another word, Lily kept running ahead of her as Clarke and Finn split in two different directions.
The forest grew quieter around her, the pounding of their steps fading behind the branches. Every breath she drew felt shallow, like her lungs were tight with questions she couldn’t voice. She didn’t know if she was hoping to find Bellamy or dreading it—but the uncertainty clawed at her.
He was always one step ahead. Always disappearing just when she thought she was starting to see him clearly.
Why did he have to make everything so hard?
She ducked under a low branch, her boots kicking up leaves and twigs as she kept moving. The light through the canopy shimmered like it was mocking her, bright and golden, so at odds with the heaviness twisting in her chest.
She kept walking, slower now, ears tuned to every crack of branches, every gust of wind. Minutes passed—ten? twenty? It was hard to say. The adrenaline had burned out, replaced by a nervous energy that made her skin itch.
No sign of him. Just the rustling of leaves and the distant call of some bird she couldn’t name.
Her thoughts drifted back to Bellamy again. If he was doing something reckless, something irreversible—could she stop him in time?
She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t really tell if he’d listen.
She paused near a tree, resting one hand on the trunk to steady herself. Her breath came out slow, misting in the morning air. And then, just as she turned a bend in the trail, a shadow moved between the trees. A figure. Broad shoulders, dark hair, striding with fast and nervous steps.
Bellamy.
He hadn’t seen her yet.
Lily froze, her breath catching in her throat.
There he was.
And in the pit of her stomach, the unease curled tighter. Lily knew she couldn’t let him go. Every instinct told her to move, to call out his name, to stop him before he did something he couldn’t take back.
But her feet felt rooted to the ground. What if he didn’t want to be stopped? What if he turned around and looked at her like she was just another person trying to get in his way?
She hesitated, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.
A single breath. That was all it took.
Then, without letting herself think any further, she stepped forward.
“Bellamy!” she called, her voice cutting through the stillness of the forest like an arrow.
He didn’t stop. But she saw it—the slight hitch in his step, the way his shoulders tensed, as if her voice had struck a nerve. He kept walking, slower now, more deliberate.
“What are you doing here?” he said without turning, his tone low, unreadable.
Lily didn’t answer right away. She pushed forward, her boots catching on roots and underbrush as she moved after him, her breath quickening—not just from the run.
“You’ve found it, haven’t you?” she asked, and saw him exhale sharply.
“Go back, Lily,” he muttered, still refusing to face her.
She caught up to him, close enough to see the tense line of his jaw, the clenched set of it. He was avoiding her gaze on purpose.
“Bellamy—” she said again, her voice softer now.
Still no response. Just silence, and the sound of their footsteps—his ahead, hers right behind.
Frustration twisted in her chest. She hadn’t come all this way to speak to his back.
“Bellamy!” she exclaimed, and her hand shot forward.
The moment her fingers closed around his sleeve, something shifted in the air. That same jolt from the night before pulsed through her, sharp and immediate. Heat surged beneath her skin. Her touch made him stop, made him turn. And when their eyes met, she saw the hitch in his breath—brief, but there.
For a second, he stood completely still.
Lily realized how close they were. She let go of his arm and took a step back.
“Where did you put it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could. His jaw clenched as he looked at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, turning to walk away. And for a moment Lily watched him taking a few steps. There was something in his eyes and in his posture that just confirmed to her that there was more to that then he was letting all of them know.
“I know you’re hiding something,” she called after him, noticing how he stopped his steps without turning to her. But that didn’t stop her from walking forward so that she could put herself before him, “What are you scared of, Bellamy?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Bellamy stood still, eyes fixed on her, and something shifted in his expression—just barely. The harshness in his face didn’t vanish, but it softened, as if her words had cracked through a layer he hadn’t meant to let fall. His brows drew together slightly, not in anger, but in conflict. She had already seen that gaze on him, just the night before. After Charlotte.
He looked like he might speak. His lips parted just enough to let a breath out, but then Clarke’s voice came from behind them, calling for Bellamy. And Lily saw his eyes get cold again, quickly passing by Lily.
“Where’s the radio?” Clarke asked with a tense tone as she followed Bellamy’s steps.
“Hey princess,” he said, trying to mask how tense he was with the sarcasm. “You out for a stroll in the woods too?”
But Clarke ignored his words and grabbed his shoulder, she forced him to stop, “They’re getting ready to kill 300 people up there.”
Lily’s eyes widened, and her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped towards Clarke.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, alarmed, sharing a look with the girl.
“They are trying to save oxygen,” Clarke explained urgently. Lily’s eyes went to Bellamy, meeting his gaze, for a moment before Clarke spoke again, “And I can guarantee you it won’t be council members,” she said, “It would be working people. Your people.”
They were doing that because they thought that they were all dead. The Ark was once again taking drastic decisions for the survival of its people. Lily felt her hands tremble at the thought of that order, and how many people were about to die. And then her mind went to her father. Was Marcus behind all that? She felt her mouth twitch, knowing that it was pointless to ask herself that. She knew he was behind this.
“Bellamy, you have to listen to her,” Lily almost pleaded with him. “We need to let them know we’re al–”
But suddenly someone shoved Bellamy aggressively, forcing him to take a few steps back.
“Where’s the damned radio?!” Lily’s eyes widened in seeing that Finn had been the one to push him. But Bellamy did not stand back, he charged forward, shoving Finn back with as much force.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” He exclaimed in Finn’s face, and Lily quickly pushed herself in between them. Her fingers gripped Bellamy’s arms, so that she could push him back from where Finn was standing.
“Stop it, both of you!” She said, giving a quick glance at her shoulders, feeling Bellamy still being tense under her touch, his eyes fixed on Finn. “Bellamy!” she called forcing him to look at her, “Enough!”
“Bellamy Blake?” Another voice made Lily frown as she turned sharply. A girl was approaching them, her olive-toned skin streaked with dirt, a thin line of blood dried on her forehead. Her hair was tied into a tight high ponytail, and she wore Finn’s jacket. Lily had never seen her before. She wasn’t one of the Hundred. Her eyes, however, were locked on Bellamy with unsettling precision—steady, almost accusing.
Was she from that dropship? Lily wondered, heart beginning to pound again, her hands still resting on Bellamy’s arms. She could feel the tension rising in his body like heat through metal.
“They’re looking everywhere for you,” the girl said flatly, her voice devoid of judgment but filled with implication. Lily’s breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Bellamy. He hadn’t moved, but something shifted in his eyes—an instinctive flash of panic, quickly masked by a wave of hostility.
“Shut up,” he hissed, the words sharp and immediate like a blade drawn too fast.
Clarke stepped forward. “Looking for him why?” she demanded, voice cold.
The girl didn’t hesitate. “He shot Chancellor Jaha.”
Lily stared at her, the words echoing in her ears like a blow struck too close. The blood drained from her face. Her hands slipped from Bellamy’s arms as if burned. She stumbled back a step, blinking, her mouth falling slightly open in shock. Her gaze flicked to Bellamy’s face, searching, begging for denial—but none came. His expression had turned to stone, jaw tight, shoulders squared like he was preparing for impact.
Lily’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. She opened her mouth, but at first, no sound came. Then, barely above a whisper: “Bellamy… why?”
He didn’t speak. His eyes darkened, but still, he didn’t look at her.
Her stomach twisted, her breath shallow. She took another step back, as if space between them could help her make sense of it. He shot the Chancellor. That was bad, dangerous. He could die for this. He would die once Marcus and the Council had their hands on him. But why? Why would he do such a thing? What had been pushing him to do something so reckless?
And then it hit her. Like a puzzle suddenly locking into place.
He did it for Octavia, she thought, her eyes looking at him. His posture still stiff, his jaw still clenched. ‘Someone has got to keep an eye on you’ was the first thing he had said when he hugged Octavia in the dropship, the day of their landing. He would do anything to protect his sister, that Lily had many chances to see. But how helping Octavia involved killing Jaha? Maybe revenge? But if that was the case Bellamy had been wanting to kill him only for himself. Would he do that?
“That’s why you took the wristbands,” Clarke said in disbelief, her eyes wide. “Needed everyone to think we’re dead.”
“And all that ‘whatever the hell we want’?” Finn said, a hint of disgust in his voice, “You just care about saving your own skin.”
Bellamy’s eyes stayed cold as he stared at Finn and Clarke, but Lily could see it—just for a moment—in the way his shoulders locked, in the tension rippling through his jaw. He was holding the line, retreating into anger, but toward who he was feeling that anger Lily was not sure.
Maybe I just want to find excuses, she thought bitterly at herself. She had just started to change her mind about him, maybe she just wanted to hold her grip to that idea of him. And maybe that was true, but she could not help but keep her eyes on his face. Those were not the eyes of someone who was proud of what he did. Bellamy was good at masking what he truly felt; he seemed arrogant, but he could be gentle and kind. And he could seem coldhearted, but she had witnessed him holding back, and feeling remorseful. And even now, she recognized that look. It wasn’t indifference. It was fear wearing the mask of control. Like when he pushed that bucket under Murphy.
Slowly, without saying a word, she stepped closer again. Her hand moved gently, hesitantly, and brushed against his arm—not grabbing, just touching. Bellamy didn’t flinch. But he didn’t pull away either. She felt the tight coil of tension in his muscles beneath her fingertips, like a wire drawn too taut. He kept his gaze forward, jaw clenched so hard that a muscle ticked near his temple, but something in his eyes—just a flicker—lost its sharp edge.
“Hey, I know you’re scared,” she said quietly, locking eyes with him. She meant every word. He had every reason to be afraid—the weight of what he had done, the possibility of what would come next. “But, Bellamy, if there's even the smallest chance to save those people, we have to try.”
He looked at her, just for a moment, and she saw something flicker in his gaze again. But then, slowly, he shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and took a step back. When he turned and started to walk away, it wasn’t rushed, but heavy—like he was carrying something he couldn't set down.
“I know you don’t want them to die,” Lily called after him, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re not like this!” But he didn’t look back. That cold mask had settled over him again, shutting her out, once again.
“Hey! Shooter!” the other girl’s voice rang out as she ran after him, and Lily’s heart clenched at the word. Shooter. The weight of it felt suffocating. Bellamy didn’t react, not visibly. But she could feel the tension in the group shift as Clarke and Finn exchanged a look. Without a word, they all started moving after him.
“Where’s my radio?” the girl demanded stubbornly, stepping directly into Bellamy’s path.
He stopped short, his shoulders squared. “Get out of my way,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, like a warning that only barely hid the desperation underneath.
“Where is it?” she insisted, stepping even closer, unrelenting.
Something inside him snapped. His face twisted, jaw locking as he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he growled, his voice a harsh whisper.
Lily flinched—not out of fear, but from the sudden shift in him, the way his entire body bristled like a cornered animal. She knew it was a defense. But he was losing control, fast.
The girl’s eyes sharpened. “Really?” she challenged, her voice steady, sharp like a blade. “Well, I’m right here.”
In the space of a heartbeat, Bellamy moved. His hands clenched at the girl’s shirt, roughly pushing her against a tree nearby.
Clarke, Finn, and Lily all moved at once, their boots crunching over leaves and branches as they rushed toward them. But as they got closer, they froze. The girl had a knife in her hand, and she was pointing it straight at Bellamy with unflinching focus. Despite being pinned, she hadn’t hesitated. The steel of the blade glinted in the pale morning light.
Bellamy didn’t move. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, but his grip stayed firm. They were locked in a dangerous stalemate—his rage, her blade, both on the edge of something irreversible.
“Okay, we’ve gone too far. Nobody’s killing anyone!” Lily exclaimed, stepping in, her voice cutting through the tension as she moved closer to them, placing herself beside Bellamy without hesitation. “Put that knife away!” she snapped at the girl, her eyes flashing.
“Not until he tells me where my radio is,” the girl replied, cold and sharp.
Lily let out a breath, her frustration rising. She turned to look up at Bellamy, voice quieter now, but firm. “Bellamy—let her go.”
He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained fixed on some invisible point ahead, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. For a few long seconds, it seemed like he wasn’t going to move. Then, slowly—like the last thread of fight was unraveling—his fingers loosened their grip. He stepped back, releasing her without a word.
Without meeting anyone’s eyes, Bellamy turned and began walking away, his back rigid, shoulders tight, boots heavy against the dirt.
“Jaha deserved to die,” he said with a strong voice, “You all know that.”
Lily dropped her gaze. Many had hated Jaha on the Ark—it wasn’t a secret. But this... this wasn’t justice. Killing him would have crossed a line. And now Bellamy’s fear of punishment, of exposure, was leading them all toward something darker.
“Yeah,” the new girl said, “He’s not my favorite person either. But he is not dead.”
Lily’s eyes darted to Bellamy just in time to see the flicker of shock ripple across his face. His steps slowed, and for a breath, he looked almost boyish in his disbelief.
“What?” he asked, quietly.
“You’re a lousy shot,” the girl said, glaring at him.
Lily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hand came up instinctively to her chest, fingers brushing the fabric near her collarbone, where her heart was still racing. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes stayed locked on Bellamy. The knot in her stomach loosened—just a little. Things hadn’t gone too far. Not yet, at least.
“Bellamy,” Clarke said, stepping toward him, her voice steady but intense, “do you see what this means? You’re not a murderer.”
Lily watched him closely. He looked stunned, confused, like he hadn’t quite processed what had just been said. But was there relief in him? She couldn’t tell. His face was a mix of fear and exhaustion, like he was still bracing for impact. Still hiding inside himself.
“You always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That’s who you are,” Clarke went on. “And you can do it again—by protecting 300 of your people.”
His eyes dropped for a moment, and Lily felt her heart clench. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his jaw tensed—it was like watching someone trying not to drown. He looked hunted, not by them, but by the weight of everything he had done to survive.
Clarke’s voice grew firmer. “Where’s the radio?”
Bellamy looked up again. His expression was unreadable. “It’s too late,” he said quietly.
That made Lily frown. Her pulse quickened again. “Why?” she asked before she could stop herself. His gaze shifted to her, and for a moment he didn’t speak. The silence stretched, heavy, and then—
“I threw it in the river,” he finally said.
Clarke turned away, exhaling sharply. “Oh my God…”
And Lily stood frozen.
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The river? Her stomach twisted as the implication hit her like a punch. He hadn’t just hidden it. He hadn’t stashed it away for later, somewhere safe. He had gotten rid of it. Destroyed it, for all they knew. Her mouth went dry.
If the radio was gone—truly gone—how could they stop the Council from killing 300 innocent people?

Chapter Text

The water was cold. Not enough to numb her skin, but just enough to send a shiver through her every time she moved. Lily waded forward in small, careful steps, the river reaching just above her knees. Mud and dead leaves stirred around her boots as she searched the bottom with her eyes, one breath at a time.
Her legs ached, and her shoes were heavy, but she didn’t stop. Each step through the current was another thought she tried to silence. But the ticking in her head wouldn’t go away.
Three hundred people.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
So many people could have died. How many of them even knew what was coming? How many were already sentenced without knowing it, working their shifts in the colder sectors of the Ark? Maybe someone was eating in the mess hall with a child beside them. Maybe someone was laughing. Maybe, for one brief second, they felt safe. And then—it would have ended.
One order, and it would all be over.
That was the part that hurt the most. The way lives were reduced to calculations and numbers. Lines drawn on a list. Sacrificed behind the righteous mask of protection. But was it really protection?
Lily had never found an answer to that.
To her, every life mattered—and harsh decisions always felt like the safest way out. Especially because the upper class would never be the ones counted in such situations. They made the decisions, but they were never treated like everyone else.
She had seen the difference—back when she lived with her mother, and later, when she had been moved to a more privileged job, thanks to Marcus Kane. The Council would protect the elite. They were the only ones being protected.
They liked to speak of the Ark’s strict rules as a way to maintain order and peace. But Lily had often wondered: where was the line between order and manipulation? What was the true reason behind this logic of “protecting the greater good” if it always led to hard decisions?
Decisions that killed.
Her jaw tensed as she pushed a tangle of branches out of her path.
There was no time to focus on that.
They had to find that radio, and stop from the Ark to do what it did best.
As she kept walking in the water, Lily glanced toward the riverbank. Bellamy was crouched near the edge, arms resting on his knees, completely still. He hadn’t stepped into the water. Hadn’t moved. His face was tight, jaw clenched, like a storm waiting to break—but he wasn’t helping. He wasn’t looking for the radio.
Lily let out a nervous scoff, seeing him there. A shiver ran along her spine, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold river water or the sight of him, motionless, like this wasn’t his mess to fix. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d thrown the radio into the river that stung—or not only that.
It was this. Him not even trying.
He could have been searching. He could have been doing something. Anything to show he wanted to fix the mistake he’d made. But instead, he just sat there, detached and silent. Another impulsive choice. Another wall he’d built between himself and everyone else.
“Nice boyfriend you’ve got there,” Raven muttered, not bothering to hide the bite in her voice as she passed by, eyes skimming the riverbed with sharp purpose.
Lily flinched—barely—but enough to feel the heat rise to her cheeks.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said quietly, voice low and flat.
She looked back down at the water, blinking hard. The current tugged at her legs, but she barely noticed it. A tightness had settled in her chest, as if Raven’s words had pressed against something already bruised.
And stupidly, her mind betrayed her.
The memory came uninvited: Bellamy leaning toward her in the tent, shadows flickering over his face, his breath mingling with hers for just a second too long. The look in his eyes—unsteady, unsure—and how her heart had lurched as if something was about to happen.
God. How could she have let herself think of that now?
She pushed the thought down like a stone into the riverbed, willing it to sink and stay there. There were three hundred lives at stake. This wasn’t the time for this.
Lily moved away from Raven without a word, putting space between them, and unintentionally, between herself and Bellamy too. She didn’t want to see his face—not now. Not while her body was aching and her thoughts were filled with numbers and names she didn’t even know.
The current pressed against her knees, tugging at her steps, but she kept going, eyes sweeping the riverbed in narrow, focused lines. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking like that—just that her legs were sore and her breath shallow.
Somewhere to her left, voices broke the hush.
“I didn’t think I’d see her again,” Finn said, barely louder than the water.
Lily didn’t turn, but her ears caught every word.
“You wouldn’t take off your wristband,” Clarke answered. Her voice was quiet, but the sharpness in it sliced through the air. “You still had hope. I get it. I was around, passably cute… and now it’s over.”
She hadn’t meant to listen. And yet, the words clung to her like wet fabric.
She felt for Clarke—had sensed something between her and Finn before, in the way they gravitated toward each other, in how their eyes lingered a second too long. But now, they seemed miles apart. And it didn’t take much to guess who they were talking about.
Raven.
Lily lowered her gaze to the water, the current still swirling around her knees, and for a moment she let herself feel the weight of it all—the silence, the tension, the cold seeping into her bones.
Then, without meaning to, her eyes drifted toward the riverbank.
Bellamy was still there. Still crouched. Still not helping. A dark shape carved out of tension and silence, like the world had narrowed to the tight set of his jaw and the stillness in his limbs.
Then he looked up—and met her gaze.
Lily’s chest tightened. Something in his stare made her feel bare—exposed—and she hated how her breath caught without permission. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Her jaw tensed, yet she couldn’t look away.
“I found it!” someone shouted, making Lily snap her head to the side. A guy—Jake, she remembered—had pulled the radio from the river. Raven was the first to run toward him, eagerly taking the device into her hands to inspect it.
Lily saw Bellamy take a deep breath before rising to his feet. His reaction made her drop her gaze. Why did he look upset? And why did she feel so disappointed?
She forced herself to shake off the thought. This wasn’t about him. She had to know what was on that radio—and whether it could save those three hundred people.
“Can you fix it?” Clarke asked Raven, urgency lacing her voice.
But the flicker of hope died when Lily saw Raven shake her head. “Maybe,” she said with a scoff. “But it’ll take half a day just to dry the components enough to see what’s broken.”
Lily exhaled, dread sinking into her chest. “We won’t make it,” she realized aloud. Without the radio, there was no way to tell the Ark they were alive.
“Like I said,” came Bellamy’s voice beside her—calm and cold—“It’s too late.”
Did he even care?
“Bellamy, just don’t,” Lily muttered, barely louder than a whisper, but she knew he heard her.
His words made Clarke’s eyes flare. She stormed toward him, fury radiating from her face. “Do you have any idea what you did?” she snapped, standing inches from him. Lily crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes briefly meeting Finn’s. He looked angry too. They all did.
“Do you even care?” Clarke continued, voicing exactly what Lily had been thinking. She glanced at Bellamy, hoping to see him flinch or nod or something. But he said nothing. His eyes remained cold, though his jaw was clenched—and his shoulders, tight with tension.
“You asked me to help,” he said, arms now folded across his chest, his dark eyes locked on Clarke with unreadable detachment. “I helped.”
“Three hundred people are going to die today because of you!” Clarke shouted, her anger rising. But before he could respond, Raven’s voice cut in, drawing everyone’s attention.
“We don’t have to talk to the Ark,” she said, her tone urgent.
“What do you mean we don’t?” Lily asked, stepping closer to her. Raven’s eyes sparkled with something—excitement?—and Lily’s confusion deepened.
“We just have to let them know we’re down here.”
“Yeah,” Finn added quietly, “But how do we do that without the radio?”
Raven’s grin widened. And despite everything, something in her expression made Lily feel the stir of hope again. Fragile. But real.
“We need to get back to the pod,” Raven said, already turning toward the riverbank. “We’re going to build rockets.”
Clarke’s eyes went wide as she followed her. “Can that work?”
Raven nodded firmly. “We just have to be quick.”
Lily let out a shaky breath. Maybe… maybe they could make it. They had to. Those three hundred people couldn’t die because of one mistake—because of his mistake.
Her eyes found Bellamy again. He hadn’t moved. Still a few feet away, face hard, body tense.
“At least try to pretend you’re relieved by this,” she murmured.
Their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them looked away.
Then, as she moved to walk past him, Bellamy reached out, catching her arm and making her turn. The gesture surprised her; his grip was firm but not rough—just enough to draw her back to him. Lily truly hoped he’d tell her something, anything, about how he felt about what he had done. That he wanted to make it right. That he was sorry. But he said nothing. He just looked at her—closer than he had been since the night before—but his eyes remained cold. His jaw clenched again before he let her go, stepping past her to follow where the others had disappeared.
“Bellamy…” she called after him, but he didn’t turn. He just kept walking.
Could he really be that cold-hearted? It was easier to believe that he was—but she didn’t want to. She had seen him take care of Charlotte, had seen the sorrow in his eyes after her death. She had seen him angry, regretful. He was capable of feeling so much, and yet he had learned to hide it so well.
But what if he wasn’t hiding it this time? What if he could feel deeply for some people, but not for others? Still—how could he not care? Three hundred innocent people were going to die because he had thrown the radio into the river. How could anyone feel nothing?
A strange flare ignited inside her, and she quickened her pace to catch up to him. When she saw Bellamy just ahead, she broke into a run, placing herself directly in front of him. He stopped short, his steps halting to avoid colliding with her.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, breathless, but firm.
“You don’t believe me,” he repeated, his eyes fixed on hers.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Someone who’d do so much to protect his sister can’t feel nothing about this.” He didn’t respond. “Someone who tried to save a twelve-year-old girl. Who helped me when I was scared.”
The memory struck her with unexpected clarity—his voice low and steady, the surprising gentleness in the way he had spoken to her that night. No sarcasm. No dismissal. Just calm reassurance. His hand had rested lightly on her back, grounding her, helping her catch her breath when fear had taken it away. He had stayed. And that had been enough to make her feel safe.
She noticed him drop his gaze for a moment before looking back at her.
“Move, Lily,” he said, though he sounded more tired than anything.
“Bellamy,” she said, restraining herself from reaching out to him, “just talk.”
“What do you want me to say, huh?” he snapped.
“Something,” she said. “Anything! I know this isn’t who you are—but you don’t trust anyone, Bellamy! You always think you have to do everything on your own, that you can control every damn thing around you. But you can’t!” Her voice cracked on the last word, raw with emotion.
Still, he remained silent, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers as if searching for something.
“There are people here who care about you,” Lily continued, her voice quieter now, trembling. “People who would help you without even thinking twice. But you never let them. You just… keep pushing everyone away. And then you do bullshit like throwing that damned radio in the river.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She turned sharply, scrubbing at her face, not wanting him to see her cry.
“Nobody could have helped me,” Bellamy said softly behind her. His voice was almost broken, as though the words themselves hurt.
Lily stopped. She exhaled shakily and turned back to face him, blinking against the sting in her eyes. Her voice came out soft, but steady. “You keep telling yourself that,” she said. “But I just wish… I wish you’d trust more, Bellamy.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, her breath catching like she wanted to say more. Then she turned abruptly, blinking back the tears as she walked away.

Chapter Text

They had worked all day following Raven’s instructions to build the rockets. They had gone back to her pod, taking piece after piece from it. Lily had no idea how to do any of it, but Raven gave orders with confidence—she was precise, and she knew what she was doing. It wasn’t hard to see that Raven was a really smart girl.
“Have you known her for a long time?” Lily had asked Finn curiously, while they were arranging some metal parts and tightening them together so they could carry them back to camp. She had noticed Finn watching Raven and Clarke talking together.
“Since we were kids,” he replied, his eyes clouded, something melancholic shadowing his expression.
Lily nodded, then asked, “You’re from the working class, right?”
“Right,” he answered, tightening another knot around the metal pieces. “So were you, until you moved up.”
Lily dropped her gaze, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way her shoulders tensed. He knew that too. Her eyes wandered across the group. How many of the hundred knew? And what exactly did they think they knew? She remembered the rumors Bellamy had heard, and her hands trembled slightly with anger at what people said about her—or about her mother.
“What have you heard?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.
Finn shrugged, pushing his hair back as he looked at her. “I don’t like gossip,” he said, making her lips curve into a grateful smile. He returned the gesture and stood. “Most people talk out of envy,” he added. “A lot of us would’ve liked help from the elite.”
“I know,” she replied honestly, then shook her head. “But the elite only cares about order, not people.”
“All of them?” Finn asked, curious.
One for sure, Lily thought, as the stoic face of her father came to mind. The last look she had of Marcus. But she didn’t answer—just shrugged.
“Clarke is part of the elite, and she cares about people,” Finn said, as if to defend Clarke, even though no one had attacked her.
“Clarke isn’t on the Council,” Lily replied, glancing up at him. “But she could be a good leader, you’re right about that.” Then she turned to start piling more metal pieces. As she did, she noticed Finn looking back at Clarke with a longing expression—as if their distance wasn’t just physical.
“I ruined everything,” she heard him whisper with a heavy sigh. Lily didn’t know whether to respond or not. She wasn’t close to Finn, and she didn’t want to intrude on something personal, like she had done with Murphy. It was strange to see him and Clarke so distant—it had never happened before. And even if she knew that Finn had probably messed things up, she felt for him; it was easy to see the regret on his face.
Her gaze wandered—and landed on Bellamy. His expression was hard, but his eyes... Did he regret what he did? She wanted to believe he did. But was that because it was what she hoped, or what he actually felt?
He was here, she thought, but then shook her head. He could help more if he wanted to...
Why did thinking that make her feel guilty? Probably because his behavior didn’t make sense to her. But most things didn’t. People would say that’s what being human meant. She wanted him to feel regret for what he’d done—maybe to reassure herself that she hadn’t been wrong about him.
But what if she had been?
At that moment, Bellamy looked her way, and their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t want to be wrong about him.
She looked away and turned her attention back to Finn. “Hey,” she said gently, catching his attention. “I don’t like gossip either.” She cast a quick glance toward Bellamy before continuing, “But everything will come around. Just give Clarke some time.”
Finn let out a slow breath, his expression somewhere between pain and faint relief. “Thanks,” he murmured, then paused. “The same goes for you.” He nodded subtly toward Bellamy. “Give it time.”
Lily’s heart skipped a beat. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she gave a small nod, but her shoulders stayed tense.
“I think we’ll all need time to forgive him,” she said, forcing a final smile before returning to work.
They worked until the sun had sunk behind the trees, until their hands ached and their arms burned from hauling metal and tools and salvaged parts from Raven’s pod. One after the other, the makeshift rockets had taken shape—ungraceful, uneven, desperate. But functional all the same.
And still, the knot in Lily’s stomach only grew tighter.
The camp around her buzzed with a low, focused energy. Raven barked final instructions while Clarke double-checked the ignition mechanism. Monty hovered anxiously nearby, and Finn passed by with a handful of cables. Everyone had something to do. Everyone was trying to hold onto a thread of hope.
But Lily’s thoughts refused to stay still.
Three hundred people.
She could see them in her mind—shadowy figures scattered across the Ark. Families, engineers, cleaners, technicians. People who had no idea their lives were being sacrificed for a mistake. And they might already have been lost. But because again, someone else decided it was the necessary thing to do. The logical thing. The right thing.
The greater good.
Her jaw clenched. That was always the view they used, wasn’t it? Save who is necessary. Keep who they thought was the last of humanity alive. Her father’s view. The Council’s law.
Lily had always criticized it. She had seen people die, she had met people who had suffered. And once, on the Ark, she was sure that whatever the Council did was against that greater good, if it hurt so many. But what was the line between duty to save lives and kindness? For what they knew on the Ark, they were on a broken ship, and had nowhere to go. Was the right thing to do to sacrifice so many to save people’s lives?
In their position, what would she have done? After what she was living on Earth, the line had never seemed so thin. But she didn’t want it to be. There must have been a way to keep order without strict rules that hurt so many, and there must have been a way to save the people of the Ark without sacrificing anyone.
Or not..?
Her head was filled with so many questions, and nothing seemed to make her feel better. The only thing that could do it was for the Ark to see those flares, and let them know they were alive, and that they could still come down.
She stood with the others in the clearing just outside the camp, arms wrapped tightly around her chest as Raven began the final sequence. The air was so still it felt like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Then, with a sharp hiss, the first rocket launched.
Lily flinched as a streak of red carved into the sky. It exploded above the trees in a burst of color—gold, crimson, flickering like a dying star. The sound came half a second later: a dull, thunderous boom that rolled over them like a wave.
Then another. And another.
She watched them rise one by one, fire arcing through the night. Smoke curled upward, disappearing into the dark. She felt every explosion vibrate in her chest like a second heartbeat.
Please see this, she thought. Please, someone has to see it.
What would Marcus do, if he saw them?
Would he believe it? Would he stop everything? Or would he hesitate—just long enough for it to be too late? And if he did stop it… would it be because he knew people were alive? Or because one of them was her?
Lily closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the ache pressing at her ribs. She didn’t want to think about him. Not now. Not when her whole body was coiled in fear for three hundred lives. And yet, he kept appearing in her thoughts like a ghost she couldn’t silence. Stoic, unreadable, full of iron logic and noble intentions that never reached the people who needed them most.
What was it Bellamy had said? “It’s too late.”
She had hated him for saying it. Still did, in part.
And yet, as she stood there watching the smoke trail across the stars, she heard the echo of those words inside her.
But it’s not too late, she told herself. It can’t be.
Because if it was—if they had already failed—then all of this would be meaningless. The rockets. The running. The fighting. All of it.
She stayed rooted to the spot long after the last rocket vanished. The crowd around her slowly dispersed. Raven disappeared into her tent with Monty. Clarke murmured something to Finn and headed to check on the wounded. Lily didn’t move.
Her fingers were numb from gripping her own arms too tightly. Her throat was raw with unshed words.
She hadn’t even looked at Bellamy. But she knew he had been there, she had seen him around where Clarke was standing. Knowing that he hadn’t disappeared made her hope that maybe he did care.
Stop that, Lily, she scolded herself.
And for another night, Lily was too nervous to sleep. She wasn’t even feeling the weakness of the day. Too many things had happened, and her body didn’t feel like being still. So, she had been back in her tent working on more medicines, trying to keep herself busy preparing some cleansing solutions.
She had mashed up fresh plantain leaves into a thick green paste, and was now straining it through cloth to extract the liquid. Nearby, a small tin bowl held the steeped bark of white willow, simmering over hot stones to concentrate its pain-relieving properties.
Her mind was racing. She still didn’t know if Raven’s plan had managed to save the lives of all those people up on the Ark. And she was still angry and sad thinking about Bellamy throwing that radio into the river.
He never thinks before he acts—or maybe he did, but somehow he always made the wrong choices.
But somehow, she knew he wasn’t a bad person—that was what made her even angrier. She knew Bellamy was good, but he made so many bad decisions. And he was so difficult to read. But then she remembered how he told her that nobody could have helped him, and his eyes… sad eyes…
God, Bellamy, she thought, letting out a breath.
Why couldn’t she be angry at him, like everyone else? She just wished she hadn’t grown to care so much about him. But she knew she did. She was worried about him, and she couldn’t help it.
Then, as if he’d heard her thoughts, Bellamy’s voice cut through the quiet of the tent entrance.
“Lily.”
She bit her lip, refusing at first to turn and look at him. It was strange for him to be there; she didn’t think that he would come to talk to her. And a part of her kept her anger, but the other didn’t want him to go away again.
So, even if she was fighting against herself, she finally decided to look at him. But the sight of him made her stomach twist tighter. His hair was disheveled, his chest rising and falling too quickly as though he’d been running. His dark eyes were wild, darting around the tent before snapping back to her. His hands kept flexing at his sides, opening and closing into fists.
“What is it?” she asked, getting up, her voice softer than she meant it to be, trying to mask her worry.
“Have you seen Octavia?” His words came out clipped and urgent, like he was struggling to keep himself under control. His voice cracked a little on his sister’s name.
Lily blinked, thrown off by how raw he sounded. “No, I haven’t,” she said quickly, her mind scrambling as she tried to remember the last time she’d seen Octavia. She was certain she’d glimpsed her that morning, before Bellamy had left camp. But after that… she wasn’t sure.
Bellamy dragged a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes blazing with fear. “I’ve looked around but… I can’t find her—” His voice broke off, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down a surge of panic.
Lily stared at him, her chest tightening. The terror in his eyes shoved aside every other thought that she had been fighting the entire day.
“Bellamy… hey.” She stepped closer, her voice gentle but edged with quiet resolve. Slowly, she lifted her hand and laid it on his arm, feeling the tense, coiled muscle beneath her fingertips. “We’ll find her. I’ll help you, alright?”
He looked at her as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her right. For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, eyes flicking over her face as though searching for something solid to hold on to.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. His voice was so low she almost didn’t hear it.
Lily gave a small, determined nod. “Come on. Let’s have another look.”
Bellamy nodded stiffly, like movement was the only thing keeping him together. They stepped out into the night, the cold air brushing against their skin. The camp was quieter now—fires flickering low, voices hushed—but Lily could still hear Bellamy’s breathing beside her, shallow and fast.
“Where did you look?” she asked, looking up at him, and she noticed he let out a shaky breath.
“Everywhere,” his gaze found hers, and his jaw tensed again.
Was it possible that he hadn't found her yet? She must have been in camp. Where else could she be?
“She followed me,” he muttered as they walked through camp, and Lily decided to stay silent, to hear what he wanted to share. “This morning, she…” he let out another shaky breath, “I told her about Jaha and she ran away.”
Lily’s hand moved gently to his arm, stopping his steps, but also his racing mind.
“Hey,” she whispered gently, locking eyes with his worried ones, “It’s not your fault.” She made sure he didn’t look away from her. “I’m sure she’s fine. We’re going to find her soon. And everything is going to be alright.”
He took a deep breath, doing all he could to nod his head and keep his posture. But he was scared—she could see it—and there was nothing more she could say to help him. They had no idea when Octavia had last been seen in camp, and the more time passed, the more dangerous it could have been for her.
“We have to talk to Clarke,” she said with resolution, but her words made him frown.
“Clarke?” he asked, and Lily nodded.
“We need help, Bellamy,” she said, starting to look around to see if she could spot Clarke anywhere. “And help from everyone. Come on,” she then made her way through the tents. She looked around, trying to observe everyone as closely as she could, since it was pitch black and the only light they had was the one that came from the torches. The fire shone with an orange light that usually calmed Lily—only looking at the color made her feel warm—but now there was no such effect. Her mind was racing as she looked at each face of every person she could glance upon. But there was no sign of Octavia.
They needed Clarke. A lot of people were angry at Bellamy, but Clarke could help them get their help. And she hoped that Clarke was willing to help. Then Lily called to Bellamy, gesturing to a tent where Clarke was sitting.
Bellamy took a breath before walking ahead of Lily to move the flap of the tent.
“You’re up?” he asked, his voice shaking, but Clarke didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah,” she answered, her tone filled with sarcasm, as she got up. “Knowing that hundreds of people might be dying on the Ark makes it pretty hard to sleep.”
Lily dropped her gaze for a moment, thinking back to those poor people. And then she searched Bellamy with her eyes.
“Raven’s flare will work.” That was the first time Bellamy showed any kind of hope about the situation, and Lily found herself taking a step toward him.
“Her radio would’ve worked better,” Clarke’s answer came cold as steel, and it hit Lily as if Clarke had been mad at her. But she knew the venom in her voice was meant only for Bellamy.
Lily’s heart clenched. She didn’t know what he felt, but her heart felt heavy at those words. Somehow, she didn’t want him to hear about the three hundred people anymore. Or maybe she didn’t want to hear about it anymore…
“Clarke,” she spoke, taking a step forward. Clarke’s attention moved to her, with a little frown. “Have you seen Octavia?”
The girl seemed surprised by her asking, but she answered nonetheless. “No,” she said. “But it’s Octavia. She’s probably chasing butterflies.”
Lily blinked, and a small frown formed on her brows.
“No,” Bellamy said with a shake of his head, his tone trembling with worry. “I’ve already checked the camp. She’s not here.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Lily backed him up. “If she’s not here, she could be in danger.”
“If she isn’t already,” Bellamy said, and Lily couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him. She knew he was right. He had said he’d seen Octavia early that morning—why hadn’t she come back, if that was the case? The first thing that came to mind was that something had actually happened to her.
Her mind immediately went to what had happened to Jasper.
No, Lily. Don’t panic! she scolded herself. She had to stay focused. Octavia was the priority right now, and she couldn’t get distracted.
“Okay, I’ll help you find her,” Clarke said, finally understanding how dangerous the situation could be. Bellamy let out a little breath, sharing a look with Lily, before they both started to follow Clarke.
“Let’s check again,” she kept saying, glancing up at Bellamy. “You go to the dropship. I’ll check the rest of the tents. Lily, you check the patrol posts, see if anyone saw her.”
Lily nodded her head, her pace keeping up as she followed them.
“Thank you,” Bellamy said to Clarke, but she didn’t change her cold expression.
“Don’t thank me,” she answered. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Octavia.”
Lily looked up at Bellamy, his face filled with worry.
As she was about to walk away from them to go to the closest patrol post, Lily put a hand on Bellamy’s arm, making him turn.
“We’ll find her,” she said, trying to sound as reassuring as she could.
He looked at her silently for a moment, then finally nodded.
“Thank you, Lily,” he said quietly.
Lily squeezed his arm gently, before turning to run to the patrol post.

Chapter Text

Octavia was not in camp. That much was clear to everyone by now.
Lily had been asking everyone she met at the patrol posts, and soon the guards began helping her spread the word. The same thing was happening with Clarke and Bellamy, and eventually, the whole camp was looking for Octavia. But as much as Lily appreciated the help, it only confirmed what she already feared—Octavia was gone. No one had seen her since that morning.
Lily’s eyes scanned the camp until they landed on Bellamy. He was pacing near the dropship, his fear barely hidden beneath the determined way he moved. He looked like he was trying to stay in control, but she could see it—the panic beneath the surface. And she felt powerless. There was nothing she could say to take that fear away.
“Lily, hey,” Miller called, drawing her attention. She turned to see him approaching with Jake at his side. She had talked to Miller a few times before—he was kind, always willing to help around camp. Lily thought she had seen his father once on the Ark. She wasn’t sure, but Miller’s calm, capable demeanor reminded her of one of the guards she’d met back then. If that really had been his father, she often wondered what could’ve led to Miller ending up in the Skybox. But it didn’t matter. Not down here. Down here, they were all the same.
“Anything?” she asked, hoping—just for a second—for good news.
Both boys shook their heads.
“Nothing,” Jake said. “It’s like she vanished.”
Lily exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath. Her eyes found Bellamy again—tense, coiled, like every second that passed without news chipped away at his control.
“He’ll go look for her,” she whispered, more to herself than to the two boys beside her.
Jake took a step forward, following her gaze toward Bellamy.
“Alone?” he asked, his tone more tired than anything else.
Lily nodded slowly. “If it were up to him, yes.” Her gaze never left Bellamy, who was now gathering more and more people to look for his sister. “But he can’t,” she said quietly.
“You’d go?” Miller asked her, and Lily looked up at him briefly.
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. With Octavia gone, Bellamy needed all the help he could get. And if Octavia was hurt, maybe Lily could help as well—assuming Clarke wouldn’t go for some reason. Between the two of them, Clarke was the one with more experience in medicine.
“Were you studying to be a guard on the Ark?” Jake let out a little tired chuckle.
Lily turned to him with a tight, tense smile. “No, nothing like that,” she answered shortly.
“Med technician, Jake,” Miller explained, and Jake looked at him with a small frown.
“Ah, yeah,” he muttered. “I must be tired.”
They all were. Lily felt it too. She had barely slept in two days, but adrenaline was keeping her on her feet. She was tired—but not enough to stop. Bellamy needed all the help he could get. And she really wanted to help him.
Her eyes moved again and caught sight of Bellamy walking toward her. Lily let out a slow breath before taking a few steps to meet him halfway.
“Hey,” she said as gently as she could.
“She’s not here,” he replied, his voice trembling. “Something must have happened, Lily. I have to go.”
Her hand moved before she could think—firm and gentle as it rested on his arm. Her eyes searched his.
“You can’t go alone, Bellamy,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“No…” he muttered. “My sister, my responsibility.” He was being reckless again—like he always was when he was scared or worried.
“That might be true, but you are not alone,” she insisted, her voice firmer than she expected it to be. “We’re a group. We watch each other’s backs.”
Bellamy looked at her silently. His face was tense, his jaw locked, like he was trying to hold something back. But then his eyes flickered—just for a second—something raw, something like doubt or fear.
His breath caught, then left him in a sharp exhale, as if letting go of something heavy. His shoulders squared, his expression tightening into resolve.
Then he turned his gaze past her shoulder, jaw setting with purpose. “I need all the weapons,” he said to Miller, voice firm once again.
“I need all the weapons,” he called to Miller, his voice sharp and commanding—the tone he always used when giving orders around camp. Lily was always surprised by how quickly he could shift, how much he held inside without letting anyone see.
Her eyes followed him as he brushed past her and walked toward Miller and Jake.
“All of them?” Jake asked with a frown.
“All of them,” Bellamy repeated shortly. “Go!”
Lily watched as Jake nodded quickly and disappeared into the tent where they had set up a makeshift armory. They had used pieces of wood and spare parts from the dropship to craft spears, knives, and axes. Clarke and Bellamy had decided to store them all together so that whoever was assigned to patrol would also help guard them.
Lily’s eyes remained on Bellamy as he frenetically went through the weapons Jake had brought out. He was quick to gather them all together and pick them up in his hands.
“Lily, come on,” he said, making his way towards the main fire in the camp. “Hey, everyone!” he shouted, getting the attention of the people around them. “Gather around and grab a weapon,” he put the weapons on the ground, his voice incredibly steady for the frenzy his body was moving with. “My sister’s been out there alone for twelve hours. Arm up, we are not coming back without her.”
Lily felt the fear getting back at her, as she looked at the woods. It was the middle of the night, and the perspective of going out was always scary. But it was the same situation for Octavia, and they could not leave her alone.
As few of the delinquents bent down to arm themselves, Lily was quick to kneel and take one of the knives. She held it as firmly as she could in between her fingers; she really hoped it wouldn’t come to the place where they’d actually had to use those weapons. Would she be able to defend herself? Or someone else? Would she really be able to kill someone?
I don’t want to kill anyone, she thought letting out a shaky breath.
But Octavia was out there. Alone.
What was the most important thing?
Lily knew the answer, but she didn’t like what the repercussions could be. But there was no other choice. Or maybe there was; she did not have to go. It was not expected from her, she was not a soldier… but she wanted to go. The reason though she didn’t know, or maybe she did.
Her eyes moved up to look at Bellamy, who was standing next to her giving orders to who had decided to join his searching party. It would have been much easier to let him go with the others, but she had seen how scared he was; scared and worried. Lily knew that maybe her presence would not have made any difference, but she wanted to go. Despite all of her fears.
As she stood up, Bellamy turned to her, probably noticing her moving. His dark eyes moved to the knife in her hand, and she saw him hesitating, but before he could speak she interrupted him.
“I want to help you, and Octavia,” she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could. Then their eyes met. “We’re not arguing on that,” she said finally.
Bellamy was quiet for some moments, looking at her intently, but at the end he nodded his head.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Lily dropped her gaze, giving her shoulders a shrug, “No need,” she answered, just before she heard Clarke speak to Jasper.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from bending to take a weapon. “You haven’t left camp since we brought you back.” Clarke was speaking the truth, and Lily shared her worries about him going out. But could they keep him inside forever?
For as much as she would like to feel safe and know that the people around her were too, she knew that was not possible…
“Clarke,” Jasper said, “I need to do this.” His voice was tense, as were his shoulders, but he had a strong resolution in his eyes, the same he had every time he was around Octavia.
“We need all the people we can get,” Bellamy spoke, taking a few steps towards where Clarke and Jasper were standing. His arms crossed over his chest, and his tone wasn’t leaving room for much choice. Lily took a breath as she observed Jasper nod his head to go take a weapon.
“I’ll be taking some of the medicines I’ve made,” Lily said, making Clarke turn towards her, “I hope we won’t need it, but just in case.”
Clarke nodded her head.
“Good idea,” she answered, with a nod.
“We also need a tracker,” Bellamy added, as he looked at Clarke. Of course he wanted the person most skilled among them in tracking people, and after Clarke agreed with it, he called for Finn.
Lily turned around to see where he was, but she could not see him around the fire. Then she felt Bellamy shift beside her.
“Where is he?” he muttered under his breath.
“In his tent with Raven,” Clarke answered, her tone flat, but it was not difficult to see how bothered she was by that. “He’ll be here soon enough.”
But that didn’t sit well with Bellamy, “Now, that’s what I need,” he said tensely, his urgency slipping from his control once again. “Finn!” he called again, raising his voice, “We’re leaving!”
“Bellamy–” Lily whispered as he passed by her, followed by the group that would go with them to search for Octavia. Bellamy was growing restless, but luckily Finn’s voice came from inside one of the tents.
“All right,” he said, walking out, “I’m coming.”
Lily let out a breath, sharing a glance with Clarke, before they started to follow Bellamy and the others, but then Finn called for the other girl.
“Hey, wait!” he said and Lily turned to Clarke, she didn’t seem eager to speak to him, and she didn’t feel to blame her at all.
“I can stay, if you want.” Lily spoke, with a little encouraging smile.
Clarke bit her lips, but after a moment, she shook her head.
“It’s all right,” she said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Lily nodded, not pushing her and with a last look at Finn making his way towards Clarke, she kept following the others. As she did so, she noticed Bellamy look at where Finn was and let out a frustrated breath.
“Jasper,” Lily said, her eyes never leaving Bellamy, “Can you go grab the ampoules that are on the desk in my tent?”
“All of them?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Lily said, thanking him as he made a quick run towards the tent.
Lily’s eyes were still on Bellamy, and he seemed to start getting angry as he looked at Finn and Clarke. And before he could move, she stepped forward, putting a hand on his chest to not make him go towards them.
“I know it’s difficult for you,” she said, keeping her voice down as their eyes met, “But we don’t need you to lose your temper, now.”
“You don’t get it–”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Lily knew that nobody could fully understand what Bellamy was feeling, and she didn’t want to pretend she did. “But I know that we have to be fully focused, and we need you to lead us. This is the only way we are going to help Octavia.”
Bellamy didn’t say a word.
His eyes dropped briefly to the hand Lily had placed against his chest, then slowly lifted back to meet hers.
His posture shifted. The tension in his shoulders loosened just enough. A breath escaped him—shallow and quiet.
And for a second, Lily thought that maybe she had reached him.
Then—
“Guys, guys, come here!” A voice rang out across the clearing, urgent and loud, making Lily and Bellamy turn towards the crowd. People were starting to look up.
“What is it?” Lily looked up as more people gasped in delight, her brows furrowed as she saw the night sky coming alive with many fallen stars. There were so many, she had never thought of seeing something so beautiful in her life.
“There are so many…” she whispered, feeling Bellamy taking a step from behind her, their shoulders brushing against each other. And for some silly reason, she felt her heart beat faster from the proximity. Her mother had told her stories about people looking up at the sky during summer, when the nightmare of radiation was still far. She had always wondered what it’d look like.
“They didn’t work,” Raven’s words made the smile from Lily’s face drop in an instant. That nice warm feeling inside her chest disappeared, and only terror filled her. “They didn’t see the flares.”
“A meteor shower tells you that?” Bellamy asked from where he was standing, his voice tense once more.
“It’s not a meteor shower,” Clarke explained, her eyes fixed on the sky, “It’s a funeral.”
“Oh, my God…” Lily muttered, her eyes filling with tears.
“Hundreds of bodies being returned to the Earth from the Ark. This is what it looks like from the other side,” Clarke kept saying. Each word made Lily’s chest get tighter and tighter. And looking up again, those lights became the most horrific sight she had ever laid her eyes upon.
“They didn’t get our message,” Clarke said again, turning to Raven.
They had failed. Marcus and the Council had killed three hundred people. All those poor souls had died thinking that the Earth wasn’t survivable. A tear rolled down her cheek, as Lily tried to keep her whimpers inside. And a terrible thought crossed her mind, as her eyes moved up, crossing Bellamy’s gaze. He didn’t hold it for more than a moment before he dropped his gaze. And another tear rolled down Lily’s cheek, unable to say anything.
“This is all because of you!” Raven yelled angrily. Lily didn’t even turn; she knew who she was talking to, and she didn’t want to look at that scene. Her eyes closed, and her lips pressed into a tight line. More and more tears wetted her cheeks.
“I helped you find the radio,” she heard Bellamy arguing back defensively. Lily found herself shaking her head—she didn’t want to hear any of that anymore.
“Yeah!” Raven yelled back, “After you jacked it from my pod and trashed it!”
“He knows,” Clarke was the one who spoke, “And now he has to live with it.”
Lily took a deep breath, not wanting to open her eyes; she knew she’d look up, and she didn’t want to see those lights ever again.
But she didn’t have to look at the sky to feel what they meant.
All those people. Three hundred lives. Gone. Because of one choice.
Her chest ached—not just with grief. Maybe it was disillusion, for wanting to believe that they had actually stopped that culling from happening. Or maybe it was pity, knowing how many people had been lost. Or maybe it was disgust, and that hurt very much.
She had wanted Bellamy to care. To regret.
And now he would.
She opened her eyes just in time to catch his face again—strained, jaw clenched, gaze unreadable.
And when he turned away, when he dropped his eyes instead of meeting hers.
He’ll carry this forever, she thought heavily, hating herself for wanting to reach for his arm despite everything.
Then his voice cut through the silence.
“All I know is that my sister is out there, and I’m gonna find her.”
Lily didn’t say anything. But the tear that slid down her cheek didn’t fall only for the dead.
“You coming or what?” he asked roughly, looking at Finn, who nodded his head quietly.
Her eyes stayed on Bellamy—watching the way his shoulders stiffened, the way he didn’t quite meet anyone’s gaze now. But he would not have stopped, and when he turned, his eyes met hers.
His jaw was tight, his mouth set in a line too flat to be calm. A breath passed through his nose, sharp and low, before he looked away.
“Do whatever you want,” he said quietly.
Then he turned to the others.
“What are we waiting for? Move out!”
Lily remained rooted to the spot, her fingers curled tight around the hilt of the knife. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she didn’t know if she could take a step forward.
The weight of the death of all those people, and knowing that she too was blaming Bellamy for that, really felt too much. But her eyes could not leave his frame as he led the others towards the exit of the camp.
He knows, she thought, and Clarke was right—he didn’t need any of them to keep reminding him. And yet again, even if she wanted to be angry at him, and she was, it was not enough for her not to feel the same urge that she had felt when he had entered her tent that night. She wanted to help him. And she didn’t want to leave Octavia.
So, drying another tear with her hand, she followed the others into the woods.

Chapter Text

The chill of the night made Lily shiver.
Her boots felt heavy as she followed the group’s track. There were almost twenty of them. Torches moved through the woods, the only spots of light in the dark night.
Lily had kept quiet since they had left camp, her eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to look up. She didn’t know if the bodies were still falling, and she really didn’t want to find out.
I will never look up again, she thought, trying to distract her mind by wondering who all those people were, how they had lived, if she had ever met them. She desperately tried not to think about Marcus. A part of her still hoped he would be against such a decision, but she knew she would only be fooling herself. Just like when she had wanted to believe those rockets would work.
She was tired of people dying, and she didn’t want to end up blaming Bellamy for it. He had been desperate, but he was the one who threw the radio. And she was confused, because she couldn’t bring herself to hate him for it.
Even as her eyes avoided the sky, they often searched for his figure. He was following Finn’s every move, watching closely the traces he found. She wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him yet—partly because she didn’t know what to say, and partly because she blamed herself for wanting to.
“Do you think she’s alive?” Jasper’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Her gaze moved to the boy nervously walking beside her. He cared deeply for Octavia; that much was clear to everyone.
“I really hope she is,” Lily answered, touching his shoulder lightly. She wished she could have been more encouraging, but after everything that had happened she couldn’t bring herself to keep her hopes up. It was too painful to watch them crushed over and over again. Every little positive thing seemed to be followed by a hundred negatives, and she was really starting to feel the weight of all that sorrow.
“Look! Over here!” Mbege’s voice made Lily and Jasper share a hopeful look, and they quickened their pace to see what he had found. Bellamy was the first to reach Mbege at the edge of a small cliff. Lily’s mind went back to Charlotte’s death, but when she got closer, she was relieved to see it wasn’t as high. Only a few feet separated where they stood from the slope below.
“What is it?” Bellamy asked Mbege, as Lily stopped beside him. He was staring into the darkness ahead, and Lily tried to follow his gaze, but she couldn’t see anything—or anyone.
“Right there, do you see it?” Mbege pointed at a branch of a bush. Lily squinted, straining her eyes. At first she saw nothing, but when more people brought torches and flashlights closer, she was finally able to make out something. An object. But she still couldn’t tell what it was.
“Is it Octavia’s?” Mbege asked. Bellamy stared intently at it, his determination only sharpening.
“It’s hard to tell,” Lily said, looking up at him. “Bellamy, it could be anything.”
“Or something,” he replied, before turning slightly. “Rope!”
Lily’s eyes followed him as he took a rope from one of the boys and quickly tied it around the nearest tree. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him ready to climb down a cliff for his sister, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous. And still, she felt she had no place to stop him. Finn, however, spoke up.
“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning as he stepped closer.
“We need the rope to get back up,” Bellamy answered without hesitation. Without waiting for Finn to reply, he threw the rope down and tugged on it to test its strength. When he seemed satisfied, he turned and asked for a flashlight.
Lily stood with her hands on her hips, watching him. After a quick breath, she took the flashlight hanging from her hip and handed it to him. He looked almost surprised that she was the one giving it to him, but after a brief glance at her face, he reached out and took it.
“Be careful not to trip, alright?” she said, watching him slip the flashlight into his back pocket. He glanced at her again, nodding silently. Then he passed the rope behind his back and started sliding down the cliff. Lily bit her lip as she followed his movements, her hands gripping the rope to keep it steady. Soon, the other boys did the same behind her.
Bellamy’s descent was short, only a few seconds, and he reached the branch Mbege had pointed at.
“It’s hers!” he shouted up, and Lily turned immediately to meet Finn’s eyes. They shared the same thought: finding something of Octavia’s didn’t necessarily mean it was a good sign, but at least it was a trace.
“I’m going all the way down!” Bellamy called again.
“Bellamy, wait!” she shouted back, but he kept going. He was always so impulsive.
And he wasn’t the only one. Jasper walked tensely toward the rope, stopping just before Lily, who was still holding it.
“Jasper…” she muttered as she watched him hand his torch to Finn. No one else seemed eager to follow. But Jasper started his descent, and knowing Bellamy was just ahead of him made her uneasy. She didn’t want to stay behind, not knowing what was happening below.
She turned and met Finn’s gaze again. He looked just as uncertain as she felt.
“We have to go too,” she told him, more to herself than to anyone else. To her relief, Finn nodded silently. Lily nodded back, though her chest tightened with fear as she passed the rope behind her back. The darkness made it nearly impossible to see, but she was determined not to be left behind.
She started down, careful but quick. The slope was steeper than it had looked, and her hands clenched the rope as gravity pulled her forward faster than she wanted. From above, it hadn’t seemed far, but now the descent felt endless. She prayed Octavia hadn’t fallen all the way down. The rope shifted again, and when she looked back she saw Finn a few feet above her. They exchanged another silent nod.
Stay focused and don’t fall, she told herself. She couldn’t afford to be a burden. She had to stay focused.
At last she reached the bottom and let go of the rope, releasing a shaky breath of relief. But it didn’t last long. Bellamy and Jasper were kneeling on the ground. Bellamy held the flashlight, his finger stained with what looked like blood.
At the sound of her steps, he looked up at her. His eyes were wide with terror, his body frozen. Lily didn’t say a word, afraid she’d only make it worse. She simply walked closer and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Finn quickly joined them, kneeling beside Jasper. His eyes fixed on the ground, his expression offered no relief. Lily stayed silent as the boys studied the scene.
“Someone else was here,” Bellamy said slowly. Lily’s eyes widened, her anxiety spiking, though she fought to keep it in. Had Octavia been followed? Attacked? Hunted? No scenario she could imagine made things easier. This was the Grounders’ world, and once again she felt the same crushing fear she had when they searched for Jasper.
Don’t panic, she reminded herself, keeping her hand steady on Bellamy’s shoulder.
Finn examined the ground behind them, then returned his gaze to the blood. His eyes only made her more uneasy.
“The prints are deeper going that way,” he explained, lowering the torch to illuminate them.
“What does it mean?” Lily asked, hearing footsteps approaching from above. Finn looked at her, fear still etched in his eyes.
“That he was carrying her.”
His words froze her blood. Lily’s eyes shot to Bellamy.
“If they took her, she’s alive,” Jasper said quickly, trying to sound hopeful. His gaze moved from Bellamy to Finn to Lily, searching for reassurance. “Like when they took me, right?”
No one answered. They all knew Octavia being taken by the Grounders wasn’t a comforting thought. Lily’s fear grew heavier, but she forced herself to ignore the trembling in her fingers. She was here to help, and she wouldn’t let her nerves get the best of her.
She followed Finn’s footsteps, walking just a few feet from Bellamy. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, but he never gave up, eyes fixed on the ground in search of his sister’s trail. Jasper stayed close to Lily, and the others finally joined them as they moved forward in silence.
It was deep into the night, and Lily had no idea how long until sunrise. She prayed it would be soon; she hated the woods at night. They pressed on without stopping. Lily was grateful Finn knew how to track—she had never been good at it. While locked in the Skybox, she’d overheard that the Council had arranged lessons for the delinquents, but she hadn’t been allowed to attend. Marcus had refused. Instead, he’d sent Charles Pike to her cell after his lessons, but tracking had never come easily to her.
Suddenly Finn stopped, and the others followed suit. What Lily saw made her fear grow. Skeletons hung from the trees. So many of them, as if the Grounders had marked the entrance to their territory with death.
“I don’t speak Grounder,” Finn said, turning to Bellamy, “but I’m pretty sure this means ‘keep out.’”
Lily let out a shaky breath. Clarke hadn’t mentioned skeletons when the Grounders nearly killed Jasper, and she hadn’t seen any when they’d rescued him wounded in the woods. What if this was sacred ground? What if it was where the Grounders made sacrifices? Ancient civilizations on Earth had customs like that—maybe the Grounders did too. Or maybe these weren’t even the same Grounders. The thought terrified her more. How many were out there?
They knew so little. And they weren’t prepared for this. They didn’t know what this place was—if Octavia was alive, if it was a trap, or if it marked the entrance to the Grounders’ village.
“Let’s get out of here!” one of the boys shouted. Lily turned as he continued, “This is crazy!” Without another word, he left. More and more followed, abandoning them to return the way they had come.
Lily moved closer to Bellamy. Dread was etched on his face, and the sight clenched her heart.
“Go back if you want,” he said, not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the woods. “My sister, my responsibility.”
She watched him go, wishing she could grab his arm and tell him it was madness—that stepping into that clearing surely meant death. But could she stop him?
My sister, my responsibility. He had already said those words, and Lily hadn’t given them enough weight. He felt so responsible for Octavia that he was ready to walk to his death if he had to. He was unstoppable, stubborn. Nothing would change his mind. And she knew that if they had little chance of succeeding as a group, alone Bellamy would surely die. The thought hit her harder than she expected.
“Lily,” Finn called as she stepped forward.
She didn’t turn back. She knew if she did, she would realize how terrified she really was, and she didn’t want to give herself the chance to falter.
“Bellamy,” she called after him, following his steps into the dark.
“You don’t have to come, Lily,” he said without turning. “This isn’t your responsibility.”
“I knew you’d say that,” she replied, catching up to him. Her hand found his arm, urging him to turn just slightly. “We don’t leave people alone here. Do we?”
His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment she thought he might cry.
“We’ll find her,” she promised, knowing she was offering too much, but unable to stop herself.
Bellamy nodded silently, and she found herself nodding back in the dark.
Suddenly footsteps echoed behind them. Bellamy immediately stepped in front of Lily, only to release a breath when Jasper appeared.
“Glad I caught up,” Jasper said, his voice trembling but his lips forced into a smile. He was clearly trying to lighten the mood.
Moments later, three more torches flickered through the trees. Finn led the few who had decided to follow Bellamy. Lily quickly counted them—only four.
“Roma?” Bellamy asked with a frown as the girl stepped forward.
“I’m here for you,” Roma said, laying a hand on his arm. “I want to help you.”
Lily’s stomach tightened as Roma’s hand lingered on Bellamy’s arm. She shoved her hands in her pockets, forcing her eyes to the ground. She immediately felt foolish. Her mind should be on finding Octavia, not distracted by this.
“Alright,” Bellamy said, sharing a look with Finn. “Let’s keep going.”
The night stretched endlessly around them, every sound in the woods sharp and unsettling. Their torches flickered in the wind, shadows twisting across the trees, making Lily’s stomach tighten with every step. She couldn’t help but imagine eyes watching them from the darkness, Grounders hidden among the branches, waiting.
No one spoke much. Each crack of a branch beneath their boots made Lily flinch, though she tried to keep her expression calm. Her fingers were cold around the handle of her torch, but she gripped it tighter as if it could keep her steady. Every now and then her gaze drifted to Bellamy’s back. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set like stone. He hadn’t slowed once.
Jasper walked close to her side, restless energy in every movement. Sometimes his eyes darted nervously into the trees, sometimes they flicked to Bellamy ahead. He wanted to be brave, but Lily could see the way his hands trembled, the way his breathing hitched whenever a sound broke the silence.
Finn stayed slightly ahead, crouching often to scan the ground, his torch low. He moved with a tracker’s focus, his eyes scanning every print, every broken branch. For hours it seemed like he knew where to go, but the deeper they went, the harder it became. Lily could see the uncertainty creeping in, the frustration in the way he lingered longer at the ground each time.
As the hours dragged on, fatigue began to press on Lily’s limbs. Her boots felt heavier with every mile, and she forced herself not to think about how long they had been walking. The night air was biting, the silence between them broken only by Jasper’s occasional nervous mutter or the distant cry of some animal in the woods. Each sound made her heart beat faster, a reminder that they were in Grounder territory now.
She tried not to think about Octavia—about what being carried away might mean. Instead, she kept her mind on the people beside her: Bellamy’s determined stride, Finn’s careful scanning, Jasper’s anxious but stubborn pace. It was the only thing that kept her from letting fear take over.
The horizon began to pale with the first faint light of dawn. Lily’s eyes burned from exhaustion, but she forced herself onward, clutching her torch though its flame had nearly died. Bellamy hadn’t slowed, his steps relentless, though she could see the weight of fear in the lines of his face.
Finn stopped suddenly, crouching again, and the group gathered around. Lily held her breath, waiting for him to point out another sign. But his expression told her otherwise. He searched the ground, his hands brushing aside leaves, his brows furrowed deeper with every passing second.
Finally, Finn sat back on his heels, his voice low, defeated.
“I got nothing,” he said, his eyes heavy as he looked at Bellamy. “We lost the trail.”
Lily instinctively moved closer, standing beside him. “So suddenly?” she asked. Finn kept glancing around with a frown, nodding, clearly frustrated. Lily’s chest tightened. They were in an open clearing—Octavia couldn’t have just vanished.
Bellamy let out a sharp breath, trying to keep his calm. “Well, keep looking.”
Lily and Finn exchanged a glance. He didn’t look convinced, and neither did she. But what else could they do?
“Wandering around aimlessly isn’t the way to find your sister,” Finn said finally, turning to face Bellamy. Lily saw Bellamy’s eyes flare with anger at his words, his body tense like he was ready to snap.
“We should backtrack—”
“I’m not going back!” Bellamy cut him off, his voice hard, his stance unyielding. Lily quickly stepped between them, her gaze lifting to his.
“Finn doesn’t want to give up,” she said, forcing her voice calm even though her heart was pounding. “We can’t start fighting each other.”
“Hey,” Roma’s voice broke in, sharp and anxious. Everyone turned to her. “Where’s John?”
Lily’s eyes darted around, searching. Her pulse roared in her ears when she realized she couldn’t see him where he had been walking just moments ago.
“I just saw him a second ago,” Jasper said, his voice trembling.
“What’s happening?” Lily whispered, panic creeping into her chest.
“Spread out,” Bellamy ordered beside her, his tone rough. “He couldn’t have gotten that far.”
Lily turned to him, her eyes wide, her hand brushing his arm without thinking. “Bellamy…” she breathed. Their gazes locked, his dark eyes flashing with unease. He looked like he was about to answer when a dull thud broke the silence—something heavy hitting the ground.
Lily yelped, the sound tearing from her throat as she spun toward it. A body lay in the dirt. Her stomach dropped. She knew that frame.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her legs carrying her forward. “John?!”
Finn and Bellamy were right behind her, but as Lily reached the body, another strangled sound escaped her. Blood was pouring from a deep slash across John’s neck, running down his shirt in a fresh, glistening trail.
Her breath came shallow and broken, trembling through her chest. She forced herself to stay focused, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the wound.
“They used the trees,” Finn muttered grimly, crouching down. Lily felt a tear break loose, streaking down her cheek. The Grounders were here. They had killed John.
Are we going to die? The thought chilled her to the bone.
“We shouldn’t have crossed the boundaries,” Diggs whispered.
“Now, can we go back?” Roma’s voice shook with fear. Lily couldn’t blame her.
Her eyes rose to Bellamy again. He looked stricken, his face tight, his gaze sweeping the shadows around them.
“Bellamy…” she whispered, desperate, searching his eyes for any kind of answer.
Before he could speak, Jasper’s voice rang out, high with panic. He pointed with the spear clutched in his hands.
“There!”
Lily spun where he was pointing. Her breath caught—just a few feet away, a man stood among the trees. Tall. Broad. Armed. She couldn’t see his face, only the glint of his weapon.
“There’s another one!” Diggs shouted, pointing in the opposite direction. Lily whirled again, just in time to see another man charging toward them, spear and wooden shield raised.
“We should run,” Finn said sharply, his voice laced with tension.
It only took a quick, decisive nod from Bellamy. And then they were all running, fear exploding into motion as the woods swallowed them whole.

Chapter Text

Branches whipped past her face as Lily ducked under another low-hanging limb, boots thudding hard against the forest floor. The shadows between the trees seemed to shift and close in around them, and every crashing step behind her sounded too close.
Bellamy was just ahead, cutting a path through the underbrush. His silhouette was sharp and urgent, and every so often he glanced back.
A shape moved to her right—close, too close. Lily’s stomach dropped, and she threw herself sideways just in time to avoid what might’ve been an arm, or a branch, or something worse. She hit the ground hard, rolling once, the knife at her hip jabbing into her side.
“Lily!” Bellamy’s voice snapped through the trees as he skidded to a stop.
She didn’t answer—just forced herself to her feet, lungs burning. A hand gripped her wrist—strong and rough—Bellamy’s, pulling her forward before she could find her balance.
“Come on, come on!” he shouted urgently, his voice hoarse. His fingers let go only when she was running again.
They broke through a patch of thick undergrowth, the branches clawing at Lily’s jacket and face. Finn and the others were running ahead. She stumbled, caught herself, and kept going. Bellamy stayed close, his breath just over her shoulder, quick and uneven.
Another silhouette blurred past in the trees to their left.
Were they being surrounded? She couldn’t tell anymore.
Bellamy grabbed her arm roughly, shoving her behind him as they cleared a fallen log. His pace never slowed, but his movements grew sharper, more reactive.
Someone shouted to the right—Diggs’ voice, panicked.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Then came Jasper’s voice, breathless but alive: “What are we gonna do? They keep heading us off!”
“Where?” Lily asked, even though she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. If what Jasper said was true—if the Grounders were trying to push them somewhere—then where exactly were they being herded to? Her eyes dropped instinctively to the forest floor, scanning even as she ran. Clarke had once almost died in a trap hidden in the ground, and Lily hadn’t forgotten that.
“Just keep running!” Finn shouted, leaping over another log just ahead.
“I can’t run much longer!” Jasper gasped. The sound of his voice made her chest tighten. He was still recovering, still weak. He’d been hit in the chest—what if he collapsed?
“I’m not stopping for him!” Diggs snapped, charging forward.
Lily felt her anger spike like a jolt of electricity. “Are you out of your mind?!” she shouted, already starting to turn back toward Jasper—but Bellamy’s hand grabbed her arm again, firm and unyielding.
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. She opened her mouth to argue, but his gaze wasn’t on her—it was fixed on the trees. “I’m sick of running anyway,” he muttered, and the look in his eyes made her heart drop. She’d seen that expression before—determined, reckless, and dangerously focused. It always meant he was about to do something reckless.
Lily moved instinctively, pressing a hand against his chest as if that alone could stop him. “This is madness. You can’t do this!” She exclaimed, her voice trembling with something closer to fear than frustration.
“What are you doing?!” Finn yelled from up ahead, his expression livid as he turned back toward them. “We need to move!”
“They know where she is!” Bellamy barked, eyes flicking between Lily and Finn, his voice rough with desperation. But Lily didn’t back down—she shook her head, her words rising with urgency.
“They’ll kill you, Bellamy!” she shouted, and for a second, he didn’t respond.
Then Roma’s voice echoed through the chaos, calling for Diggs as she sprinted forward, and Finn turned to follow her, yelling after them. Lily spun, scanning for Diggs—but instead, her eyes locked on a figure charging through the trees. A Grounder. Fast. Silent. Armed.
“Let’s go!” Finn shouted again, and suddenly they were all running, fear kicking back in like fire through their veins. Lily’s lungs burned. Her legs felt heavier with each step. She could feel her body beginning to falter, every breath sharp and ragged, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. If she slowed, she would fall behind—and if she fell behind, she wouldn’t survive.
Suddenly, Roma’s scream cut through the trees like a blade, sharp and terrified, making Lily’s blood run cold. The sound jolted everyone into stillness. Bellamy stopped short, spinning toward the source. “Roma!” he shouted, already moving.
“Wait—!” Finn barked, as his eyes searched for Roma, “There could be more!”
But they had already broken through the underbrush—and then they saw it.
Diggs.
He was only a few feet ahead, suspended grotesquely in midair, his body caught in a Grounder trap—a sharpened metal pipe driven straight through his torso from beneath. His legs hung limp, his arms frozen mid-motion, as if he’d barely had time to react. His mouth was slightly open, and a thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips, bright red in the daylight. His eyes were vacant. Unmoving.
Lily stopped so abruptly she nearly tripped, skidding on loose dirt. Her breath hitched painfully in her throat. The sight of him—so suddenly and horribly still—was worse than anything her mind had prepared for.
Finn froze beside her, eyes wide, lips parted but speechless. Bellamy came to a halt just ahead, staring at Diggs as if his mind couldn’t process what he was seeing. His expression tightened, disbelief slowly hardening into something colder, heavier.
Lily took a slow step forward, unable to stop herself. “No…” she whispered, barely audible.
There was no doubt. Blood soaked Diggs’ shirt, seeping through the fabric in thick, spreading stains. His body was limp, heavy with death. And that small line of red at his mouth—fresh, final—left no room for hope.
Lily’s stomach turned, her hand moving instinctively to her side as if steadying herself. Her eyes burned, but no tears came—just the cold, sharp weight of another name added to the list.
“They were leading us here,” Jasper said, looking around in the woods. “It’s the only direction we could run in.”
That was not a hole in the ground with spikes. That meant that there were many other kinds of traps that the Grounders had set. What could they do? If they kept running, the grounders would have pushed them more and more where they liked, and they would have probably ran straight into another trap. But if they stopped, could they fight against those people?
“Hey,” Finn said, a confused frown appeared on his face. “Where’d they go?”
Lily turned abruptly, to look at the trees. And he was right. The grounders that were running after them just a few moments ago, have now disappeared.
“Oh God,” Bellamy whispered from next to Lily, his eyes wide as he looked around, “After Roma.” And as the realization hit him, he sprinted forward. Lily’s eyes widened.
“Bellamy, wait!” she called after him, but her legs sprinted anyway. They had to be together. But could being together save them from the traps?
It must be so, she lied to herself, but she needed to believe that they could survive somehow. They kept with their fast pace, trees rushing to their sides. But suddenly Finn called for them.
“Wait, wait!” he said, his eyes fixed on the ground. “I think she might have gone this way.”
Bellamy did not waste a moment, “Alright–”
“Stop!” Finn said, making him turn with wide eyes. “They’ve set traps,” the tracker said catching his breath, “We can’t run, we have to be careful.” That was true, Lily had not thought about that. Running would make it easier for them to fall into the Grounders’ traps.
“Bellamy,” Lily called getting closer to the boys, “Finn’s right, they want us to run.”
“I’ll lead, following the tracks,” Finn suggested, looking at the ground once again. Bellamy had laboured breath due to the running and the panic, but he did not argue with them. Instead he turned to the others.
“Stay close, and keep your eyes sharp,” nobody was disagreeing with him and after a last look between Lily and Finn, the boy started to lead them
into the woods.
This time their pace was calculated and slow. Their eyes darted both on the ground in search of possible traps, and on the trees, afraid that the grounders would reappear once again. Lily did not know if she preferred running at this point, because that kind of tension made her heart beat so fast that it seemed like it was about to explode.
She had no idea how long they walked in the woods, but suddenly she heard Monroe give out a sign of relief. “There she is…” Lily could hear the smile on her voice, as she looked toward a tree not far from them. From where they were they could see someone hid behind it.
“Roma!” Monroe called happily, but strangely the person did not move.
Bellamy did not lose time as he passed by Finn to reach the tree, they all followed him but the sense of uneasiness only grew. Why was she not moving?
Lily feared to know the answer, even if she wished with all her heart to be mistaken. She really hoped that Roma was just scared, and maybe she had not realized that they were there. But again she knew she was lying to herself.
A gasp left her mouth as she followed Bellamy around the tree, to see Roma pinned against the bunk by a spear in her chest. Her eyes were opened and void and her nose and mouth were covered in blood.
“They are playing with us,” Lily heard Finn say, as she observed Bellamy reach out so that he could close Roma’s eyes.
“She only came because of me,” he muttered, his gaze never leaving the girl. Lily let out a shaky breath, taking a few steps towards him. She did not know what to say. She did not know what to do.
“They can kill us whenever they want,” Finn’s voice brought her back to reality. Finn was right, they were out in the open, in a territory they knew nothing about. They were vulnerable there.
“Bellamy,” she whispered, her hand reaching gently for his forearm, “We need to go.” At her touch he turned to her, and she could see all his sorrow in his eyes.
“Or maybe they should get it over with!” Jasper yelled, making all of them turn to him with wide eyes. Lily immediately looked around, afraid that someone could have heard him for real. Finn ran back to him, trying to stop him from screaming, but he didn’t stop.
“Come on!” He was shouting, as Bellamy moved to make his way to Jasper and Finn, “We know you’re out there!”
Something, though, got Lily’s attention. From the woods she noticed a dark figure appear in between the tall grass. Huge and armed, he was running towards them faster than she thought.
“They’re here!” she yelled with fear, moving to get closer to the others.
“Bellamy!” Monroe yelled, looking in another direction, where another grounder was charging towards them. Lily let out another shaky breath as she stopped next to Bellamy, they both noticed another grounder coming from another direction.
“Oh God, they’re surrounding us,” Lily whispered, feeling tears filling her eyes. Were they going to die?
As they moved closer, Bellamy pushed her back toward Finn, putting himself in front of her, his eyes fixed on the grounder running towards them. Lily did not move back though, she grabbed his arm, pulling him with her to stand closer to Finn.
But then suddenly the sound of a horn echoed in the woods, and strangely enough the grounders stopped on their tracks to look around. Lily frowned observing them, they seemed worried, or scared. And forgetting all about them, they ran back from where they came from.
“They’re leaving…” Bellamy said, a hint of relief in his tone.
“They’re running,” Lily whispered, still feeling her limbs tremble.
“The horn,” Jasper said, his eyes wide as he looked around. “What does it mean?”
Finn was the one that answered, “Acid fog!”
Lily trembled once again. They were not safe. If anything they were deep in danger.
“We have to run,” Monroe said, voicing what they were all thinking. But Finn shook his head as he took something from his backpack.
“What are you doing?” Bellamy asked with a frown on his face, observing the other boy unrolling a thick cover on the ground.
“We’ll cover with this,” Finn answered as he kept looking around for the fog.
“Can it work?” Lily asked skeptically, could a cover be enough to protect them from a fog?
Finn turned to her with worried eyes, “We have no other choice.” Sadly they all knew that he was right, there was no place to hide there, and they had no time to search for one.
“Alright,” Bellamy said gently pushing Lily towards the cover, “Let’s get under that, quick!”
They all followed the orders, laying on the ground next to each other and Finn covered them all, telling them to try and keep the cover as close as the ground as possible, so as not to let the fog enter, then he laid as well.
Lily was in between Jasper and Bellamy and her hands trembled as she tried to keep the cover close to the ground. She had seen what the acid fog could do to people, the image of Atom flashed in her mind. The way his skin had been burnt, the way he was suffering, the way he wished he was dead. She did not want to die like that, she did not want to die at all. And now all she could do was wish that that shelter was enough to protect them from such fate.
She must have been trembling because at some point someone grabbed her wrist with a gentle hold.
“Hey,” Bellamy’s voice reached her, making her turn towards him. “It’s going to be alright,” he said, and she knew he was lying, but she felt a little relief as she observed his dark eyes and she felt his fingers on her wrist.
There was not much they could do now, but to wait and hope.

Chapter Text

The waiting was only making Lily’s anxiety worse. They had been lying there for God only knew how long. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours—Lily couldn’t tell. And she found the cover around them getting smaller and smaller.
She wondered how she had lived in a spaceship all her life, since now she felt absolutely crushed by that cover. But maybe it was everything outside that crushed her: the Grounders, the acid fog, the death that kept following them no matter what they did—or didn’t do.
She was tired… tired and scared. And she didn’t want to give up, but it felt like the end was getting closer every day and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Stay focused, Lily, she scolded herself. She couldn’t be a burden to the others.
“How long are we supposed to wait?” Jasper asked anxiously, but there was no answer to that. Last time, they had to wait an entire night before the fog disappeared.
“Will this even work?” Monroe whispered, turning to Finn.
“We’ll find out,” the boy answered, weary.
For now, it seemed to hold. Lily wasn’t feeling any pain in her body—no burns, no reddened skin. That had to be a good sign. But then, suddenly, she felt Bellamy shift beside her.
“No,” he said nervously. “We won’t.”
Then, before Lily could grab his wrist, he moved the cover and stepped outside.
“Bellamy!” she called, her body following him before she could realize what she was doing. But as she looked outside, a confused frown appeared on her face.
“What…?” she muttered.
“There’s no fog,” Bellamy explained to the others.
That couldn’t be possible... If not for the fog, then what was the horn about? she wondered as she stood up like everyone else. But that had to be the reason why the Grounders had left so abruptly.
“Maybe it was a false alarm,” Finn guessed, just as confused.
“How could someone mistake that fog?” she asked, sharing a look with the boy. They both knew something strange was going on.
Then, suddenly, a rustling noise made them all turn toward the woods, noticing a tall, dark figure running deep into the forest.
“They’re coming back,” Bellamy said, one of his hands moving to the axe hanging at his side.
“He’s alone...” Jasper noted, confused.
“And running in another direction,” Lily added, her eyes lifting to glance at Bellamy.
There was something very strange about all of this. Why not charge at them like before? Especially if the fog was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more afraid. What was that Grounder running from?
“Now can we run?” Monroe asked, her eyes fixed on the Grounder.
“He doesn’t see us,” Bellamy said, realization in his voice. “I’m going after him.”
Lily’s eyes widened as her hand shot forward to grab his arm, trying to stop him from moving.
“Or maybe he knows and he wants you to follow him!” Lily said, panic rising in her voice. They had miraculously survived—shouldn’t they just go back to where it was safe?
“My sister is out there,” Bellamy argued. “I won’t let him leave like that.”
“And what do you want to do?” Finn asked, confused. “Kill him?”
Bellamy turned to him with a shake of his head.
“No. Catch him,” he said. “And make him tell me where Octavia is.”
Lily looked down, letting out a shaky breath. For a moment, she wished they could just turn back. But as soon as the thought came, she felt guilty. Her fear had made her forget about Octavia—and realizing that brought shame.
“And then kill him,” Bellamy finished, before getting up and starting to make his way toward where the Grounder had run.
Lily watched his back; he really was going to kill him. And she didn’t know how to feel about that. But on the other hand, the Grounders hadn’t thought twice about killing them—first Jasper, then Mbege, Roma, and Digg... Could they really afford not to consider killing as an option?
“Come on, Lily,” Finn said gently, reaching out his hand to help her up. “I don’t think he’s going to wait for us.”
Lily nodded, taking his hand and standing up.
“How do we know this isn’t another trap?” Jasper asked, moving closer to the two of them.
“We don’t…” Finn answered honestly, sharing a glance with both Lily and Jasper. They all knew it was possible—highly possible—that this was exactly what the Grounders wanted. But could they stop?
“Let’s go,” Lily said, holding her knife tighter as she started to follow where Bellamy had gone.
They walked through the forest in silence, following the Grounder’s trail. At first, the path was rough but still lit by the last pale rays of the day, thin lines of light filtering through the trees. Lily kept her eyes fixed ahead, watching the way the Grounder moved—fast, purposeful, never once glancing back. He didn’t know they were there. At least, that’s what she told herself.
As they went deeper, the light faded completely. The sky darkened, and night fell around them like a curtain, heavy and suffocating. Shadows stretched between the trees, twisting into shapes that made Lily’s heart jump. Every step felt too loud, every snapped branch a warning she couldn’t ignore.
They kept going anyway—quiet and tense. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the distant rustle of wind through the branches. Lily’s fingers tightened around the handle of her knife. Her mind kept racing, searching for signs she might have missed.
No one spoke. No one dared to. They just followed.
Followed the dark shape moving swiftly ahead of them, slipping between trees with practiced ease.
Followed, even as Lily’s fear whispered that this was exactly how traps were set.
And then, suddenly, the Grounder slowed—only for a moment—before disappearing into the shadows of a rocky hill. Lily’s breath caught as she saw it: a narrow opening carved into the stone.
A cave.
Her stomach twisted.
“What do we do?” Lily asked, looking up at Bellamy. He seemed to think about it for a moment, but the resolution in his eyes told her everything she needed to know even before he spoke.
“We follow him,” he said, his gaze fixed on the dark entrance of the cave.
“Should someone stay outside?” Finn whispered. “In case it’s a trap?”
“Maybe we should stick together, then,” Jasper said, trying to keep his voice steady. Lily didn’t know what to think. Both ideas felt right and wrong at the same time, and all she could hope was that whatever they decided, no one would get hurt—and that they would bring Octavia back to camp.
“Let’s go together,” Bellamy decided. “We need numbers.”
Numbers… Lily thought, tightening her grip on her knife as they followed him toward the cave.
The tunnel was narrow, damp, and swallowed in darkness, its walls slick with moisture and the ground uneven beneath their feet. They couldn’t light the torches—not if they wanted to stay hidden—so they moved slowly, carefully, each step measured to avoid slipping on the wet stone. Bellamy and Finn led the group, silent and focused, while Lily stayed close behind, her heart pounding as every sound seemed too loud in the confined space.
As they descended deeper, a faint metallic sound echoed through the cave, soft but unmistakable. The clinking of chains. Lily froze, her fingers tightening around the knife as she fought to control her breathing, terrified of making even the slightest noise. Bellamy moved ahead first, peering into the darkness beyond the bend, and then they heard it—a weak, familiar voice.
“Bellamy?”
Relief flooded her chest as Bellamy answered immediately, his voice breaking. “Octavia.” He rushed forward, and Lily followed just in time to see him kneel beside his sister, gathering a fallen key from the ground and freeing her from the chains with shaking hands. Only then did Lily realize she had been holding her breath, finally releasing it as Octavia collapsed into her brother’s arms. It was in that moment that Lily noticed the unconscious Grounder lying a short distance away from where Octavia had been bound.
“Monroe,” Bellamy said quickly, “check the entrance.”
As soon as Octavia was free, she clung to Bellamy, and Lily exchanged a relieved smile with Jasper while Bellamy whispered reassurances to his sister. When he finally let her go, Octavia limped toward Jasper and hugged him too, smiling despite everything. Lily met Bellamy’s eyes, and for a brief second they shared a quiet, grateful smile before Lily moved closer to Octavia.
“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her gaze drawn to the cut on Octavia’s forehead.
“I’m fine,” Octavia replied with a small smile. “It’s just a scratch.” Then she looked back at her brother. “How did you find me?”
Bellamy glanced toward the unconscious Grounder. “We followed him.”
“We should go,” Octavia said, her voice urgent. “Before he wakes up.”
Lily saw something dark shift in Bellamy’s expression as he stepped away, picking up a heavy piece of wood from the ground.
“He’s not gonna wake up.”
Lily gasped and rushed toward him. “Bellamy—”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Octavia said, stepping in as well. “Let’s just go.”
But Bellamy didn’t seem to hear either of them. “They started it,” he said harshly. “Finn, move.”
Only then did Lily notice Finn kneeling beside the Grounder, hesitation written all over his face.
“Please, Bellamy,” Lily begged, stepping in front of him. “You don’t have to do this.”
“After everything they’ve done?!” he snapped back.
“Foghorn,” Finn whispered.
Lily barely had time to turn before the Grounder sprang awake and stabbed Finn in the side.
“Finn!” Lily screamed, dropping to the ground beside him along with Octavia and Jasper, while Bellamy and the Grounder collided violently nearby.
Lily barely had time to turn before the Grounder sprang awake and drove a knife into Finn’s side.
“Finn!” she screamed as he collapsed to the ground, the blade still buried in his flesh. She dropped beside him, her hands reaching for his face instead of the wound—she knew better than to touch the knife. Her fingers cupped his cheeks as she tried to keep his gaze locked on hers, her voice trembling.
“Don’t close your eyes,” she pleaded, her breaths quick and shallow. “Please, Finn, look at me. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
Octavia and Jasper crouched on either side of her, trying to help, but the air in the cave had shifted—panic and chaos coiling around them as, only a few feet away, Bellamy and the Grounder wrestled violently in the dark.
Lily glanced up and saw Bellamy thrown hard against the ground, the breath knocked from his chest. The Grounder loomed over him, his body heaving, blood streaked down the side of his face. In his hands, he held a sharpened wooden spear, and in one smooth, brutal movement, he brought it down—pressing the tip firmly against Bellamy’s throat.
“No, no!” Lily cried, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Stop!” Octavia’s scream echoed through the cavern. “That’s my brother!”
But the Grounder didn’t move. The spear hovered at Bellamy’s jugular, so close that Lily could see the tremble in Bellamy’s arms as he tried to push it away. His face was pale, scratched and smeared with blood, chest rising in short, desperate breaths. His eyes found hers for a split second—and for that one terrifying moment, Lily was sure it was the last time she’d see him alive.
Then—crack!—Jasper swung a rock into the side of the Grounder’s skull. The impact sent him crumpling to the floor, unconscious once again.
Everyone froze. Then Lily let out a shaking breath she hadn’t even known she was holding, a sob escaping her lips as she stared at Bellamy, still lying on the ground, stunned but alive.
He turned his head slowly and met her gaze again. They stared at each other through the dark, through the panic and exhaustion, and she couldn’t stop the tears from rising in her eyes. He was alive.
Then Finn groaned.
The moment shattered. Lily turned sharply, just in time to see his eyes beginning to close.
“Finn, don’t close your eyes!” she shouted, holding his head more firmly, her thumbs brushing his temples as panic flared again in her chest. “Stay with me. You hear me? Stay with me.”
She looked up at Bellamy, her voice raw and desperate.
“We have to go back,” she said as tears steamed down her face, “We need Clarke.”
“Will he make it?” Octavia asked from beside her, and Lily shook her head.
“I… I don’t know…” she whispered, her voice trembling like her hands. “But he’ll die here.”
Bellamy didn’t waste a second. He stepped closer, urgency in every movement.
“I’ll pick him up—come on!”
“Shouldn’t we take the knife out?” Jasper asked, eyes wide with fear.
“No,” Bellamy snapped. “Leave it there.”
“But—”
“Help me pick him up!” he shouted, and Jasper hurried forward, helping to lift Finn just enough for Bellamy to get his arms under him.
Lily stood frozen for a moment as she watched them hoist Finn’s limp body. Her hands were still trembling, her legs weak beneath her. For a second, she was afraid that if she moved, she might collapse entirely. But she couldn’t afford to hesitate. She couldn’t be the one to slow them down—not now. Finn didn’t have much time. They had to get back to the dropship.
Finn could die…
The thought hit her harder than she expected, as if only now, seeing Bellamy carry him toward the exit, it became real. As she followed, her eyes caught a glimpse of Finn’s face, and her heart stuttered. His skin was so pale it terrified her.
Could he make it home?
She forced herself to look away, to focus on the path ahead—but her gaze fell on the unconscious Grounder lying in the shadows of the cave.
It was his fault. He had taken Octavia, chained her, held her here like an animal. His people had attacked them, murdered their friends only hours ago. And yet… she had stopped Bellamy.
Why?
Why did I try to protect him?
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she moved, following the others up the slick, rocky path toward the exit.
I’m so stupid, she thought. If that Grounder were dead, Finn wouldn’t be hurt. We wouldn’t be running through the dark praying he survives.
The guilt followed her as they ran through the forest, clinging to her thoughts no matter how fast she moved. Branches scratched at her arms, roots threatened to trip her with every step, but all Lily could see was Finn—his head lolling slightly in Bellamy’s arms, his face growing paler by the second. Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and relentless. He’s dying, she thought, panic rising again. What if we’re too late?
And still, the thought she hated most refused to leave her.
She didn’t want to kill people. She never had. She hated the Ark for that—for its cold laws, for the way it decided who lived and who died behind the word order. She hated how the Council called it justice, how they wrapped cruelty in logic and called it necessary. She had sworn she would never think like them, never accept that kind of reasoning.
And yet… here she was.
The Grounders weren’t hesitating. They weren’t debating ethics or consequences. They attacked, they killed, they moved on. Jasper had been speared. Mbege, Roma, Digg—gone. And now Finn was bleeding out in Bellamy’s arms. How many more would it take before she admitted that refusing to act didn’t make her better—just slower?
Why can’t I be more aggressive? she wondered bitterly. Why do I always stop?
The thought scared her. Not just because she was questioning herself—but because, for the first time, she was truly considering it. Considering killing someone to protect the people she cared about. And that terrified her, because it felt like standing on the edge of something she couldn’t come back from.
And still, she refused to believe it was the same. On the Ark, they killed to maintain control, to preserve a system that had already failed. Here, they were just trying to survive. Trying to protect each other. And yet… the line felt dangerously thin.
I hate their system, she thought fiercely. I won’t become like them.
But even as she thought it, doubt gnawed at her. What if surviving means changing anyway?
Ahead, the forest began to open, and the faint glow of the camp lights broke through the darkness. Relief crashed over her so suddenly it almost knocked the breath from her lungs. They were close—so close.
Ahead, the trees began to thin. The forest opened into the familiar clearing of the camp, and light—real, golden morning light—washed over them like a slap. The sky was streaked with soft oranges and pale blues, the sun peeking through the treetops after what had felt like the longest night of her life.
Lily’s lungs burned, her legs were numb, and her arms shook with exhaustion, but still she ran.
They had made it.
Then Octavia, pushing ahead despite her limp, screamed into the quiet camp with all the strength she had left.
“Clarke! Clarke!”
Her voice cut through the dawn, sharp and desperate. Heads turned, footsteps pounded against the packed dirt as people ran toward them. Somewhere, someone shouted for help.
And Lily—her chest tight, her eyes burning, her body aching in every possible way—could only pray they weren’t too late.
Lily, Octavia, Jasper, and Monroe were the first to cross into the clearing. The camp had started to stir in the morning light, but their sudden arrival, breathless and frantic, immediately caught attention. Before anyone could ask questions, Clarke came running toward them, her brow furrowed, her voice sharp with concern.
“I’m here! What’s up?”
They didn’t even have time to answer. Clarke’s eyes had already shifted past them—her expression snapping into horror the moment she saw Bellamy emerge behind them, carrying Finn limp in his arms.
“Finn? Finn!” she gasped, rushing past the group. She reached them in seconds and froze as she saw the blood, the handle of the knife still lodged deep in his side. “Oh my god…” she breathed, but her hands were already moving, two fingers pressing to the side of his neck.
Lily felt her heart pounding painfully in her chest. At some point during the night, Finn had lost consciousness—and he hadn’t woken up since. She had tried not to think the worst, but standing there, watching Clarke search for a pulse, she couldn’t stop herself from holding her breath.
“He’s alive,” Clarke said finally.
The words hit Lily like a rush of air to drowning lungs. Her breath left her in a trembling exhale, and for the first time since the cave, she allowed herself a flicker of hope. They had made it in time.
“I told her not to pull the knife,” Jasper explained quickly, his voice tight, “but Bellamy wouldn’t let me—”
“It was a good call,” Clarke cut in firmly, already taking charge. She turned to the small group that had gathered, voice clear and commanding. “Get him to the dropship. Now!”
Two of the older kids rushed forward to help, and Clarke turned to Lily next. Her tone softened, but the urgency remained.
“Lily, come with me.”
Lily’s eyes widened. Me? She wasn’t a surgeon. She wasn’t even a trained medic—just someone who had studied a bit, experimented with herbs, prepared a few poultices. But she was the only one Clarke had, and they both knew it.
She swallowed hard, then gave a quick nod. “Okay.”
Before they could move, Raven appeared at Clarke’s side, her face pale, her eyes already searching for answers.
“Clarke,” she said, her voice breaking, “can you save him?”
Clarke hesitated—just a beat too long—and Lily felt her stomach twist.
“No,” Clarke said finally. “Not me. I need my mother. I need to talk to her.”
Lily’s heart dropped. Her mother? How? They had no way of contacting the Ark.
Raven’s hands flew to her head, gripping her hair in frustration. “There’s still no radio!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic.
But Clarke didn’t back down. “Raven, fix it. Go!”
Something in her tone cut through the chaos. Raven blinked, stunned—but then nodded sharply and turned on her heel, sprinting toward one of the tents.
Clarke turned back to Lily.
“I need something to ease his pain. You’ve got anything?”
Lily nodded quickly, already thinking through what she had. “Yeah, yeah—white willow bark, maybe some yarrow…”
“Then go grab it and come to the dropship.”
“Okay,” Lily said again, her voice steadier now. She turned and took off running toward her tent.
She had no idea how they were going to help Finn. Jasper had been saved thanks to the Grounders and their strange, bitter medicine. But now… Finn’s life was in their hands alone.
And if they couldn’t contact the Ark… if Clarke’s mother never heard that they needed her…
What then?

Chapter Text

The storm had come fast—louder, harsher, and more violent than anything they’d faced so far. Wind howled like some furious beast outside the dropship, shaking its metal walls with every gust. It was the first real storm since they’d landed, and it had sent everyone scrambling inside.
They had managed to bring in Raven’s radio just in time, along with the makeshift infusions Lily had been working on. Now, the floor of the dropship was cluttered with supplies, salvaged crates, and bodies pressed close together for warmth and safety. Everyone huddled in silence, heads bowed, waiting for the night and the storm to pass.
Lily sat near the back, right next to Finn.
Her fingers trembled each time the wind screamed through the trees. Every time the dropship creaked, her muscles tensed involuntarily. And being on shift—her turn to watch over Finn—didn’t make it any easier.
It had been hours.
He had never regained consciousness.
She and Clarke had been taking turns watching him, trying to keep the wound clean, making sure the bleeding hadn’t worsened. Clarke had been clear: Don’t touch the knife. Don’t move it. Not even a little.
So all Lily could do was keep wiping the blood that pooled around it, dabbing gently at his side with clean cloth soaked in one of her herbal antiseptics. Her hands worked on instinct now, but her thoughts were everywhere. Most of the time, her gaze kept drifting to Finn’s chest—just to make sure it was still rising. In. Out. In. Out. A rhythm she clung to.
But sometimes her eyes dropped to her own hands—stained red. Fingers sticky with drying blood. And each time she saw it, her mind betrayed her, replaying the moment over and over again. The flash of the blade. The Grounder’s face. The way Finn’s body had jerked. It didn’t matter if she squeezed her eyes shut—the image still came.
And now the wind outside only made it worse. It sounded like the forest itself was screaming.
Nearby, Raven was still hunched over the radio, furiously adjusting wires and whispering into the mic, desperate to reach someone on the Ark. But there had been no response—not a single crackle, not even static. Just silence.
And Lily was starting to fear that silence meant something permanent.
What if we’ll never reach them?
She tried not to think about it. But her mind wandered anyway—back to the Council, to the people who had sent them here. Back to Marcus.
How could they send us down like this?
A hundred kids, barely trained, barely equipped. No guards. No doctors. No backup. Just… dropped.
Everything could have been different if they had done it right. If they had sent a real team. If they hadn’t treated this like an experiment. Clarke and Lily were doing what they could—but they weren’t surgeons. They weren’t even medics. Just two girls with barely enough training and way too much responsibility.
She was angry. At her father. At the Council. At herself.
At herself most of all.
If I hadn’t stopped Bellamy, she thought bitterly, wiping away another tear before it could fall. If I hadn’t agreed with Octavia... Finn wouldn’t be like this.
Her throat tightened. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Finn.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of her sleeve, then turned her head slightly, scanning the room while trying to steady her breath. The other kids were still dragging in the last supplies from outside, their faces tense and wet with rain. The wind was threatening to rip everything apart if they didn’t move fast.
She spotted Jasper passing by, then Monty behind him. Octavia. Jake. Miles. All rushing to secure whatever they could before it was too late.
But no sign of Bellamy.
Not for a while now.
She hadn’t really spoken to him since they got back. Not more than a glance. Not more than a word. But she imagined he was still out there, shouting orders, organizing the chaos, putting himself between the others and the storm.
Then suddenly, a cracking voice came from the radio—after the countless times Raven had called for the Ark.
“This is a restricted channel,” the voice of a man broke through, making Lily spin her head toward where Raven was seated. Did she make it?
“Who is this?” the voice kept asking. “Please, identify yourself.”
“This is Raven Reyes,” she spoke without hesitation, as Clarke moved closer to her like all the other 100. Lily could only stand up and watch with wide eyes as it happened before her. Raven had made it.
“The 100 are alive,” Raven kept saying, her voice urgent but trying to stay as steady as possible. “Please, you need to get Dr. Abby Griffin.”
Lily felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched the others look at each other with relief.
“Hang on, Raven,” the man at the radio said. “We’re trying to boost your signal.”
Lily let out a shaky breath, and her gaze met Clarke’s as she turned toward Finn. They could save him. They could really save him now.
“It’s them,” someone said from the crowd around Raven. “It’s really them.”
Lily exhaled shakily, her chest tight with relief, and looked at Clarke.
“You can save him now,” she whispered. “You can really save him.”
Clarke looked stunned and relieved all at once but kept it together. And with a final look at Finn, she turned just as another voice came from the radio.
“Raven, are you there?” The voice crackled but came through clearly enough. Lily turned to Finn, kneeling beside him. Her fingers reached for his hair, gently stroking it as if she could reassure him—but really, she was trying to reassure herself.
“Mom?” Clarke spoke into the radio. “Mom, it’s me.”
“Clarke?” The woman’s voice was full of emotion. She must have been so relieved to know her daughter was alive, and Lily couldn’t help but wonder if Marcus was next to her—if he was listening and realizing they were all alive. Did he care whether she was alright or not?
Don’t think about him right now, she scolded herself, trying to focus on Finn.
“Mom, I need your help,” Clarke said firmly, without hesitation. “One of our people was stabbed by a Grounder.”
“Clarke,” another voice came through. “This is the Chancellor. Are you saying there are survivors on the ground?”
There was so much they didn’t know. So much they had pulled them into. But there was no time now.
“Yes,” Clarke confirmed. “The Earth is survivable. We are not alone.”
There was no answer after that. A long pause. Lily had no idea how long the silence lasted, but it felt endless. And for a moment, she hoped they would realize what they had done—what their interests had cost their children.
“Mom, he is dying,” Clarke insisted. “The knife is still in his chest.”
“Okay,” Dr. Griffin said, then asked to be put in contact with the Medical section on the Ark. They could make it, couldn’t they? Their instructions had to be enough to save Finn. They had to be.
Calm down, Lily. Breathe, she told herself, trying to push her panic back.
“Clarke,” the Chancellor’s voice came again. “Is my son with you?”
That question made her look at where Clarke was seated next to Raven. All the grief for her friend came crashing down again.
“I’m so sorry,” Clarke said, trying not to cry. “Wells is—Wells is dead.”
Lily bit her lip, looking down. The silence that followed was heavy and impossible to ignore. She still remembered how it had felt when her mother died. Losing someone that important was a kind of pain difficult to explain. It left a void, a space no one else could ever fill.
Lily didn’t appreciate Jaha, or people like him, but that kind of pain… she wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even the Chancellor.
“I’m gonna talk you through it step by step,” Abby assured, as Clarke moved to Finn. Lily was about to follow when Clarke stopped her.
“Lily, I need your help,” Clarke said, making Lily’s heart jump. She knew nothing about surgery. She made medicines, not stitches. But what else could she do? Did she really have a choice?
“Mom,” Clarke called, but for a moment there was silence. Did they lose the signal?
“Mom?!” Clarke said again, louder this time.
“I—yes!” the woman replied. “Yes, I’m here.”
Lily let out a tiny breath of relief. They couldn’t lose the signal now.
But then the storm outside roared again, and the dropship let out a terrible groan that made everyone jump. They had never experienced weather like this before, and each sound was worse than the last. It made everything feel more fragile.
Where’s Bellamy? she found herself thinking, turning toward the entrance. Why is he still missing?
“Clarke,” Abby’s voice pulled her back. She needed to focus. On Finn. On saving him. Nothing else.
“You—five—to get to Medical.”
“Oh God…” Lily muttered. This time the voice was cut. It was different. They were losing the signal.
“What?” Clarke asked, but no answer came.
“Raven, what’s wrong?” she asked, moving to the girl who was already working the radio, her fingers trembling.
“It’s the storm,” Raven said, her tone full of worry.
“What can we do now?”
“There’s a hurricane right on top of them,” another voice came through. Relief that they still had a signal was instantly crushed by the panic of what it meant.
Lily remembered what she’d studied about hurricanes—they were dangerous, destructive, and far too big to run from.
That was not what they needed.
“Clarke,” Abby said again. “We need to hurry.”
“What do we have to do?” Clarke asked.
“You need to sterilize your hands. It’s very important,” Abby explained. “Then a needle and some wire to close the wound.”
“I’ll find the needle,” Raven said, getting up and running out of sight.
“What do we use to sterilize?” Clarke turned to Lily.
Lily’s head buzzed with panic and exhaustion, almost making her forget everything she knew.
“Lily!” Clarke’s voice shook her, grounding her again.
“There’s nothing strong enough I made,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “We need to get rid of most of the germs on our hands, if not all of them.” She forced herself to think. Think hard.
“We need something strong. Something that will cleanse our hands for good.”
Then it hit her.
“Moonshine…”
“What?” Clarke asked, confused.
“Alcohol. We need alcohol. Lots of it,” Lily said, turning around. “Octavia!” she called, getting the girl’s attention. Octavia ran to her without hesitation.
“Come with me,” Lily said. “We need to get Monty’s Moonshine.”
“Now?” Octavia asked.
“Yes, now,” Lily insisted. “Come on.”
It howled like a living thing, pushing sideways with such force that Lily had to brace herself against the metal wall to keep from falling. Rain whipped across her face, stinging her skin like needles. The world was chaos—branches flying, tents flapping, the ground muddy and slick beneath their boots. The trees groaned and bent under the pressure, some cracking somewhere in the distance with a loud snap that echoed like gunfire.
“This is insane!” Octavia yelled beside her, using both arms to shield her face from the rain.
Lily didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding too hard, and her breath kept catching in her throat. She had to focus. They didn’t have time to freeze.
She gestured toward the far tent where Monty usually kept his stash. The structure was barely holding together, the canvas flapping violently, the ropes strained against the wind.
“Come on!” Lily shouted over the roar, grabbing Octavia’s hand to help her keep balance.
They slipped through the mud, boots sinking with every step. Lily could feel her clothes clinging wet to her skin, the cold biting deeper than she’d expected. Her fingers were numb by the time they reached the tent.
Inside, it was slightly more sheltered—but not by much. The wind still found its way through the seams, howling through the gaps.
“There!” Lily spotted the crates stacked in the corner and rushed over, falling to her knees as she yanked the lid open. Cans clinked together inside. Her hands fumbled over the jars until she found the one labeled with Monty’s messy scrawl.
“Is this even going to work?” Octavia asked, crouching beside her.
“It has to,” Lily said, gripping the bottle tightly. “Moonshine’s basically pure alcohol—he said it was over 80% proof.” Her voice trembled from both cold and fear, but she forced herself to stay focused. “That’s enough to sterilize our hands. If we don't have surgical antiseptic, it’s the next best thing.”
She could barely feel her fingers, but she held the bottle like it was the most important thing she’d ever carried.
“Okay, let’s go!” she said, standing and nearly slipping again as the wind slammed into the tent once more. They pushed the flap open, and the storm greeted them with another deafening roar.
They ran.
Branches whipped past them, the wind threatening to pull them off-course. The sky was a blur of dark clouds and streaking rain. Lily kept her arms curled around the bottle, protecting it like her life depended on it—because it might. Because Finn’s did.
Every step felt like a battle. By the time they made it back to the dropship, Lily was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face, her breath ragged and uneven. She burst through the hatch just seconds after Octavia, clutching the cans to her chest, and all eyes immediately turned toward them.
“We’ve got it!” she called hoarsely, already moving toward Clarke.
Her whole body was shaking as she handed over the cans. Her hands were red and numb with cold, but she didn’t care.
“By the smell,” Octavia said weakly, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m pretty sure no germs can survive that.”
The three of them quickly opened the cans and poured the liquid into a bowl Clarke had set on the table next to Finn. He was getting paler by the minute, his breathing shallow and uneven, and with the hurricane raging outside, they knew they had no time to waste.
Suddenly, the dropship shook violently, its metal walls groaning and cracking under the pressure. Several people gasped, instinctively grabbing onto whatever they could. Lily’s heart jumped. How much worse could it get? Would the dropship hold? Were they really safe in here?
“The storm is getting worse,” Clarke said quietly, her eyes darting toward the entrance. “Monroe, close the doors.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Clarke, are you sure?” she asked, panic slipping into her voice.
“Yeah,” Monroe added quickly. “We’ve still got people out there.”
“Monty and Jasper aren’t back yet,” Octavia said, biting her lip. Then she hesitated. “Neither is Bellamy.”
Lily closed her eyes for a moment. Anything could have happened out there. The wind, falling trees, debris… Grounders. Her thoughts spiraled instantly into every possible nightmare. Where were they? Were they okay? What if something had happened? Her hands started shaking again, her breath growing shallow and uneven. She tried to calm herself, but nothing helped. Everything felt out of control.
“They’ll find somewhere to ride it out,” Clarke said firmly, and Lily wondered how she could sound so certain—or if she was just forcing herself to believe it.
“Clarke!” Raven’s voice cut through the tension as she pushed through the crowd, holding something in her hand. “One suture needle,” she said, handing it to her.
“Now we need wire,” Lily said softly as she began washing her hands in the moonshine, the sharp smell filling her lungs.
“There’s some I used for the tents,” Octavia said beside her.
Clarke nodded once. “Alright. Let’s get it.”
Octavia started moving immediately, but Raven stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Stay away from the blue wires,” she warned seriously. “I rigged them to the solar cells on the roof. That means they’re hot. You got that?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Octavia replied quickly, already disappearing into the crowd.
Lily exhaled slowly. They were really doing this. There was no turning back now. She watched as Clarke finished cleaning her hands, and for a moment their eyes met. No words were needed. They were both terrified. It was time.
Lily moved to the other side of Finn, standing next to Raven, as Clarke took her place in front of him.
“Tell me you can do this,” Raven whispered, almost begging.
For once, Clarke’s usual mask slipped. Fear flickered openly across her face. She cared about Finn—Lily could see it now more than ever—and this wasn’t just a medical procedure. It was personal. Lily clenched her fists. She just wanted to help. She was so tired of losing people. So tired of watching friends die. They had to save him.
“They’re back!” Monroe suddenly shouted.
Lily’s heart leaped. For the first time in hours, the feeling was close to joy. She turned just in time to see Bellamy, Monty, and Jasper entering the dropship, soaked and exhausted. They were alive. She let out a shaky breath of relief.
But it vanished the moment she saw Bellamy’s face.
His eyes were hard. Distant. Dark.
“Bellamy!” Octavia cried, rushing toward him.
Lily barely heard her. Her attention was fixed on what they were dragging inside. Two of Bellamy’s boys shoved a Grounder forward, his hands bound, his mouth gagged, his body limp. Lily recognized him immediately.
“He caught him…” she whispered.
“It’s the one who stabbed Finn?” someone asked.
The boys dropped the Grounder to the floor. He was unconscious and wounded, and Lily felt sick. Hatred surged through her chest—hot and ugly. She hated him for what he’d done. She hated that Bellamy had brought him here. And she hated herself for wishing, even for a second, that he were dead.
“Oh my God…” she murmured, forcing herself to look away.
Try to be kind, Lily.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, painfully clear. But how could she be kind now? How could she forgive after everything they had taken from them? Her hands trembled again.
Am I becoming like Marcus? she wondered in horror.
“What the hell are you doing?” Octavia demanded, her voice sharp with anger.
“It’s time to get some answers,” Bellamy replied coldly. There was no emotion in his tone. None at all.
Lily gathered the courage to look at him. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight. He looked dangerous.
“What, you mean revenge?” Octavia challenged.
“I mean intel,” Bellamy shot back. “Get him upstairs.”
The boys obeyed immediately. Lily stared into Bellamy’s eyes, and something inside her shrank. They scared her. Did he want to kill that man? Was that right? Was it wrong? She didn’t know anymore.
“Bellamy,” Clarke said, stepping toward him. “She’s right.”
Before anything else could be said, Abby’s voice came through the radio again, sharp with urgency.
“Clarke, are you ready?”
Silence fell. Lily closed her eyes for a brief second, gathering every ounce of strength she had left. She couldn’t think about the Grounder. Or Bellamy. Or morality. Only Finn.
“Look,” Clarke said softly, turning back to Bellamy. “This is not who we are.”
Lily looked up, and her eyes met Bellamy’s. His gaze scared her again—sharp, unflinching, dark with something she couldn’t name. Maybe they should trust Clarke. Maybe Bellamy was wrong. Maybe he was just angry. Was he doing the right thing, or was he becoming something else? Was there any other way to face this war they were in?
Try to be kind, Lily.
The words echoed again, louder this time. She let out a breath and found herself shaking her head gently, pleading with her eyes as Bellamy stared back at her. But he didn’t agree.
“It is now,” he said, resolute. His voice was cold and final. Then he turned his back to all of them, following the boys dragging the Grounder upstairs.
What was he planning to do?
“Clarke?” Abby’s voice snapped them back to the moment. “Are you there?”
The room shifted, the tension breaking as everyone turned their attention back to Finn. Clarke moved fast, taking her place beside him again. Her shoulders straightened with effort, even though Lily could see the weight pressing down on her.
“We’re here,” she said, steady and focused. Her eyes flicked to Lily—just for a second—before she turned back to the radio.
“We’re ready.”

Chapter Text

Come on, Lily. You can do it.

Her legs were trembling. She could feel it — that low, persistent vibration in her knees she'd been fighting since Clarke had first taken her place beside Finn. She pressed her feet flat against the floor, willing the shaking to stop, and focused on breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

Just like Bellamy had told her to, that night in the tent.

She pushed the thought away.

"Okay, Clarke," Abby's voice came through the radio, crackling but clear enough to follow. Lily exhaled shakily. "Take a firm grip on the knife. You need to angle it upward and to the left very slightly as it exits the rib cage."

Lily's eyes dropped to Finn's side, to the handle of the blade still buried there, and her mind went blank for one horrible second. She knew where the ribs were. She knew how they sat in the chest. She had studied it.

But standing here, looking at a real person, a real wound, with the storm howling outside and the dropship groaning under the weight of the wind — every diagram she'd ever seen seemed to dissolve.

Stop it, she told herself sharply. Focus, just focus.

"How very slightly?" Clarke asked. Her voice was steady, but Lily could hear the effort behind it.

"Three millimeters." A male voice now, one of the doctors on the Ark. Lily's eyes went wide before she could stop them. "Any more would be bad. Any less too."

"So three millimeters is the only thing we can go for," Lily said, more to herself than to Clarke, but the other girl caught it.

Then Abby spoke again — and the signal broke apart, swallowing her words whole. Lily looked up, searching the faces of Clarke and Raven beside her, and saw the same blank confusion reflected back.

None of them had caught it.

Of course it would drop now, she thought with a flash of frustration. Of all the moments for a storm to interfere.

"Wait, what was that?" Clarke said quickly. "You dropped out."

Raven was already moving, leaning into the radio, adjusting something at the back, her fingers quick and practiced. A moment later, Abby's voice came through again, clearer.

"Three millimeters, Clarke. Got it?"

Clarke nodded, more to herself than anyone. "Yeah, okay. I got it."

Lily watched her. She watched the way Clarke's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the way her eyes dropped to Finn's face for just a second before pulling back to the wound. She knew what Clarke was doing — building a wall between what she felt and what she had to do. Lily had seen her do it before, in moments like this.

But this time it would have taken her more effort to do so.

"You can do it, Clarke," Lily said quietly.

Clarke glanced up at her. A brief thing, barely a second — but Lily held her gaze and gave a small, steady nod. Clarke exhaled, and something in her expression settled. Lily understood that she was doing her best to stay focused.

"Steady hand, Clarke," Abby's voice came again, wavering with static. "You've assisted me on trickier procedures than this. Once that knife is out, the hard part is over."

Lily's eyes moved to the suture needle and wire they'd laid out on the cloth beside Finn. Ready. She'd made sure of it herself. Once the blade was out, the wound would start bleeding — fast, probably — and they'd have to close it before he lost too much. She'd watched Clarke's hands during the moonshine sterilization, had noted how steady they were. That helped. A little.

A low rumbling sound rolled through the metal walls of the dropship, making Lily's stomach clench. The storm was getting worse. She could hear it now not just as a distant howl but as something pressing in from all sides — the creak of rivets, the shudder of the floor beneath her boots.

Then Clarke took a breath, square and deliberate, and said, "All right. Extracting now."

"Raven, keep him steady from this side." Lily moved as she spoke, stepping around to Finn's head and positioning her hands carefully behind his neck, cradling it. She could feel the heat of his skin through her palms. Too warm. "I've got his head."

Clarke's hand closed around the knife handle.

The moment she began to pull, Finn's body reacted. A visible tremor moved through him — deep, involuntary — and then his eyes opened.

"He's waking up!" Raven's voice pitched higher.

"Hold him still," Clarke said sharply, not looking up. Her focus had narrowed to a point.

Lily tightened her grip without thinking. "Finn." She kept her voice low and even, the way you spoke to someone you needed to reach without frightening. "Try to hold on."

Clarke leaned closer to him, her voice softer now, stripped of its clinical edge. "I'm gonna get that knife out of you, okay?"

Finn's breathing was labored, uneven — but the ghost of something crossed his face. Even now, even like this.

"Good plan," he managed.

Despite everything, Lily felt her throat tighten. There he was. Still himself.

"Finn." Clarke's voice firmed again. "You can't move. You got it?"

He gave one small nod, his eyes squeezing shut as Clarke resumed the extraction. Lily watched his face — the lines forming at the corners of his eyes, the way his jaw locked — and kept her hands steady around his head, doing the only useful thing she could do right now.

She didn't want to think about what he was feeling. So she didn't. She focused on the pressure of her own hands, on the rhythm of his breathing, on the sound of Clarke working beside her.

The procedure seemed to stretch on forever. Lily was aware of every small sound — the wet give of tissue, Finn's sharp intake of breath with each centimeter — and she kept her expression as neutral as she could, because she knew if she showed fear, it would reach him somehow.

Then the storm hit.

The noise was enormous — a crack like something splitting at the roots — and then the entire dropship shook, violently enough to throw Lily sideways. Her hip connected with the edge of a crate and pain bloomed up her side as she hit the floor. For a second the world was just sound and impact and the taste of something metallic.

When she opened her eyes, she saw it: two thick branches had punched straight through the wall of the dropship, metal peeled back around them like paper.

And Finn was on the floor.

"Finn—" she was already moving, pushing herself upright despite the ache in her hip. Clarke reached him first, dropping to his side.

"Are you alright?"

He had one hand pressed hard against his side, eyes screwed shut, but his fingers found Clarke's arm in the chaos, and when Clarke straightened she was holding the knife — free, clean of him at last — and her expression, despite everything, held the unmistakable shape of relief.

Lily exhaled. "We need to close the slash." She was already moving toward the suture needle. "He could pass out."

Clarke nodded, and together they helped Finn back onto the makeshift table — careful, slow, hands working in a kind of wordless coordination that had built itself over weeks without either of them noticing.

Lily didn't miss the look Raven gave them as they settled Finn into place. She was watching Clarke's hands on Finn's arm, the way Clarke spoke to him in a low voice while she worked, and her expression was something complicated — not quite pain, not quite acceptance. Lily looked away. That was not her space to occupy.

The suturing went more smoothly than she'd feared. Clarke's hands were sure, and Abby's instructions came through clean enough to follow. When the last stitch was tied, Lily stood back and let herself feel, for the first time, the possibility that they had made it through the worst of it.

"You've got anything to cover the wound?" Abby's voice asked from the radio.

"We'll make do," Clarke answered. "Like always." She glanced at Lily, who gave a small nod and slipped away to find something.

The dropship was crowded and dim, bodies pressed against the walls, the storm still roaring outside. Lily moved through the space carefully, scanning the salvaged supplies for anything clean enough to use as a dressing.

"Hey." Jake appeared at her elbow, a roll of cloth already in his hands.

"This any use?"

"Yes." Lily took it from him, running the fabric through her fingers to check the weight. Clean enough. It would do. "Thank you."

Jake didn't move off immediately. He stood there for a moment with his hands in his pockets, looking at her with that slight crease between his brows that she'd noticed before — a look that was less curiosity than something she couldn't quite place.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice low beneath the noise of the storm.

Lily glanced up. "Sure."

"You remind me of someone." He said it simply, without any particular weight, but it landed oddly. "I don't know who. But you do."

Lily held very still for a moment. Not from fear, exactly — more from the strangeness of it. She looked at Jake properly, the way she hadn't taken time to before. He didn't look familiar. She was certain she hadn't seen him on the Ark, not in any of the stations she'd moved through, not in the medical bay, not in the corridors near the Council levels.

"I've never seen you before," she said honestly. "Not on the Ark."

He nodded, like that confirmed something rather than dismissed it. "Probably nothing," he said, with a half-shrug. "Just one of those things."

"Probably," Lily agreed. She offered him a small, tired smile. "Thanks for the bandages."

He nodded again and stepped back, and she turned and made her way back through the crowd to Finn.

He looked paler than before. She noticed it the moment she knelt beside him — the color had drained from his face, leaving it chalky and still. She pressed the back of her fingers to his forehead and felt the heat immediately.

"He's running a fever," she said, looking up at Raven.

Raven shifted beside her. "Abby said he might. She said it could be shock — said to let him rest."

Lily nodded, absorbing that, and turned her attention to the wound. She began to work, unwrapping the cloth, preparing to layer the dressing properly over Clarke's sutures. Her movements were careful and automatic, and for a little while she let herself sink into the familiar rhythm of it — the small, deliberate work of tending a wound that had already been closed.

She didn't notice it at first.

Finn shifted, and she thought nothing of it — just discomfort, just someone unconsciously seeking a less painful position. It happened again, and she still didn't look up. But then the movements came again, faster, and suddenly her hands went still.

She looked at his face.

His whole body was moving now — rhythmic, convulsive tremors starting from his core and spreading outward.

Lily was on her feet before she'd finished the thought.

"Oh my God." Her voice came out quiet. "He's seizing."

"What?" Raven was up immediately.

"Clarke!" Lily called, loud enough to carry above the storm. Her eyes stayed on Finn, watching the tremors, trying to count them, trying to understand their pattern.

Footsteps on the iron ladder. Clarke appeared at the top, took one look at Finn, and crossed to Raven in two strides. "Get my mother on the radio."

"The radio's dead," Raven said. The words came out flat and horrified at once. "Interference from the storm."

Lily was still watching Finn. She didn't look away. Something was wrong — something beyond the stab wound, beyond the blood loss, beyond shock. Her mind was moving fast now, sorting through what she was seeing, building an argument piece by piece.

Clarke and Raven moved to turn him — standard response, protecting the airway, preventing aspiration. Lily watched them work. She watched the froth forming at the corner of Finn's mouth and felt something cold and certain settle in her chest.

She shook her head.

"He poisoned him," she said.

Raven's hands stilled. She turned to look at Lily, and Lily saw the moment the words reached her — the way her face went blank before grief cracked through it, tears cutting tracks down her cheeks before she'd even spoken. "What?"

"Shortness of breath," Lily said, hearing Clarke pick up the thread behind her, "fever, seizing—" Clarke's voice followed hers, low and precise, confirming each symptom as Lily named it.

"That was not just a blade," Lily said. She was looking at the knife now, still lying where Clarke had set it after the extraction. "It's poisoned."

"But you sterilized everything," Raven said, her voice cracking. "I watched you."

"Not everything," Clarke said quietly, her eyes on the knife.

Raven turned to Lily, and the desperation on her face was almost unbearable to look at. "What did he use? How do we save him?"

Lily's eyes grew larger as she turned to Raven.

"I don't know," she said, and the words cost her something. "To find a cure I'd need to identify the compound first. Study it. I have no equipment, no reference materials — and even if I did, synthesizing an antidote from what we have here would take time we don't have."

The silence that followed lasted exactly one second before Clarke broke it.

"Maybe we don't have to." Her voice had changed — it had that quality it got when a thought was forming that was too sharp and too clear to ignore. Lily turned to look at her. "He knows what he used."

The implication settled over the room like the storm outside.

Lily held Clarke's gaze. "You want to ask him."

It wasn't a question. Clarke was already moving for the ladder, the knife in her hand. Lily followed without deliberating, her boots finding the iron rungs on instinct.

When they reached the second level, Octavia was there, and Lily noticed the concern on her face before she'd even spoken.

"Clarke," Octavia said. Her eyes moved between them. "Bellamy's locked the hatch."

Lily looked up at the sealed hatch above them, and the sound of the storm seemed louder here, the metal groaning around them. She thought of Bellamy's eyes from earlier — dark, distant, resolved in a way that had scared her.

She didn't know what was happening on the other side of that door.

But Finn was seizing two floors below, and the radio was dead, and the only person who might know how to save him was locked away with the man who had put the poison in his blood.

Hai ragione, mi scuso. Ho saltato tutta la parte centrale e sono partita dalla fine della scena. Rifaccio tutto dall'inizio, seguendo il tuo schema completo.

Clarke banged on the hatch above them with both fists, the sound ringing through the metal like a hammer.

"Hey!" she shouted, hitting it again, harder. "Open up!"

Lily stood just below her on the ladder, one hand gripping the rung, the other pressed flat against the wall to keep her balance. Beside her on the platform, Octavia had gone very still. Their eyes met briefly — neither of them said anything.

Clarke hit the hatch again.

Then, with a heavy clunk, it swung open.

Lily exhaled. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

Clarke pulled herself through without waiting, and Lily followed immediately, then heard Octavia's boots on the rungs behind her. The upper level was dim — the storm had swallowed most of the daylight, and the single torch on the wall threw unsteady shadows across everything.

Miller stepped into Clarke's path before she'd taken three steps.

"Clarke—"

"Get out of my way, Miller." Her voice left no room for argument. "Now."

He hesitated a half-second, then stepped aside.

Lily followed Clarke into the room, and then she saw him.

Her hand flew to her mouth before she could stop it.

The Grounder was standing — if you could call it that. His arms were stretched wide, bound to the frame above him, his weight hanging partly from his wrists. His face was a map of cuts, some still bleeding sluggishly, some already darkening to bruise. His shirt was torn at the collar, and there was blood on his chest.

Lily turned toward Bellamy before she could think about it.

He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw set. And the moment her eyes found his face, he looked away.

She felt the tears come before she understood why. Was this wrong? Was it right? That man had poisoned Finn — had stabbed him and left something in the blade that was killing him right now, two floors below. And yet.

She pressed her fingers harder against her mouth.

Is this what we have to become?

She didn't have an answer. She wasn't sure she wanted one.

"What's on this?" Clarke's voice cut through the room as she held up the blade.

Bellamy moved toward her. "What are you talking about?"

"Finn was poisoned," Lily said. She made herself lower her hand, made herself speak clearly even though her voice felt thin. Her arms crossed over her chest — not defensiveness, just something to hold onto. "There must be something on the blade."

"All this time," Clarke said, and the anger in her voice was the cold kind, the kind that comes after the shock has already passed, "he knew Finn was going to die no matter what we did." She glared at the Grounder, who hadn't moved, hadn't reacted, hadn't done anything at all. "What is it? Is there an antidote?"

"Clarke, he doesn't understand you," Octavia said from behind them.

Lily's mind was already moving. She knew that. She'd been turning the problem over since the moment she'd said the word poisoned — since the foam at Finn's mouth, since the seizing. In the old world, before the Ark, before all of this, people who carried poison also carried a cure. It was practical. It was necessary. If you made a mistake, if the poison touched the wrong skin, you needed to be able to save yourself.

"Did you find anything on him?" she asked, looking between Bellamy and Miller. "Something he was carrying? A case, a pouch — anything?" She paused. "He would bring the antidote with him. He'd have to."

Bellamy moved without a word, crossing to the far side of the room. He came back with a small metal box and opened it. Lily stepped closer.

Six vials sat inside, each a slightly different color — pale yellow, amber, clear, deep green, something brownish-red, and one that was almost colorless with the faintest blue tinge.

"He'd be stupid to carry poison this long without an antidote," Clarke said, setting the blade aside and coming to stand at Lily's other shoulder.

Bellamy looked at Lily. He was close enough that she could see the tension in the lines around his eyes. "Can you tell which one it is?"

She stared at the vials. She turned the problem over — color, viscosity, the slight sediment at the bottom of the green one, the way the clear one caught the light differently from the others. She knew compounds. She knew extractions. She knew what certain plant-based toxins looked like when rendered down.

But this wasn't a lab. There was no spectrometer, no reagent strip, no way to run even the most basic test. Just her eyes and what she knew, and what she knew wasn't enough.

She shook her head. "Not with just my eyes."

"What if we use all of them?" Bellamy said.

"For all we know, the others are more poison." Lily looked up at him. "We could kill him faster."

"Then we ask him," Clarke said, and turned to face the Grounder directly. "Which one?" Her voice came out hard, flat. "Which one is it?"

The Grounder said nothing. His face didn't move. He looked past Clarke as though she weren't there at all, his gaze fixed on some middle distance that had nothing to do with any of them.

"Answer the question!" Bellamy stepped forward.

Still nothing.

Why won't he answer? Lily thought, feeling the helplessness rise in her chest like water. Why is he letting Finn die? What is the point of this?

"We have no time," she said, looking at Bellamy.

"Show us," Octavia said, coming forward. "Please."

"Which one?" Clarke tried again, and this time the desperation was starting to crack through, just at the edges of her voice. "Our friend is dying. You can stop this."

"Please," Lily said to the Grounder directly, even knowing he couldn't understand her. "He's not a bad person. He doesn't deserve to die."

The man's eyes didn't move. His expression didn't change.

Beside her, she felt Bellamy go rigid.

She looked up and saw his jaw clench, saw the shift in his posture — the way his weight moved forward, the way his hands tightened. And then he said:

"I'll get him to talk."

"Bellamy, no." Octavia stepped in front of him.

Lily's mouth opened. She wanted to say something — to argue, to reason, to find the third option that didn't exist. But she thought of Finn's face two floors below, of his chest barely moving, of Raven's voice cracking down the ladder. And she didn't speak.

She hated herself for it.

Then Bellamy's hand closed into a fist, and Octavia grabbed his arm with both hands, trying to hold him back.

"He wants Finn to die," Bellamy said, pulling free. He looked at his sister, then at Clarke. "Why can't you see that?" He turned to Clarke fully. "Do you want him to live or not?"

Lily pressed her hand over her mouth again. Clarke was silent.

Try to be kind, Lily. Her mother's voice, so clear it almost hurt. But what would kindness do here? Would it save him?

"Clarke, you said it yourself," Octavia tried, turning to her. "This is not who we are. He protected me. He saved my life."

"What?" Lily turned to look at her, brow furrowed. They had found Octavia in that cave, chained to a wall. How had she come to that conclusion?

"We are talking about Finn's life," Bellamy said, his voice rising.

The room was still for a moment. Then Clarke said quietly, "Do it."

Lily pushed her hair back with one trembling hand. Octavia kept protesting, but Bellamy was already moving toward the far wall. Lily watched him reach for one of the red dropship belts hanging from a hook — the same kind they'd used during the landing. She saw him pull it free, and before she even understood what she was doing, her legs had carried her to his side.

She placed her hand on his wrist, very lightly.

"Bellamy," she said, barely above a whisper.

He looked down at her hand. Then at her face.

"You don't need to see this," he said. There was no anger in it. Just something exhausted. "Go downstairs."

She shook her head. "I once told you that you're not alone." Her voice broke on the last word. She felt the tears on her face but didn't try to stop them. "I stand by that."

He held her gaze for a moment — something moving behind his eyes, too quick to name — and then he turned away.

Lily didn't follow him. She stayed where she was and looked at the floor.

She heard the sound of the belt being doubled back on itself. She heard Bellamy move to the center of the room. When she finally looked up, the Grounder was there before him, still impassive, still silent, and Clarke had come to stand beside Lily without a word.

Lily looked at Bellamy.

His eyes were too wide. His breathing was wrong — too fast, too shallow. It wasn't just anger. She knew what anger looked like on him by now. This was something else. Fear, maybe. Or the particular misery of someone about to do something they know they'll carry.

You don't want to do this.

She watched his face harden anyway. The way a shutter comes down. And then he swung the belt.

The metal buckle connected with a sound she felt in her teeth.

Lily closed her eyes. She pressed her hands over her ears, and she stood there with her eyes shut and her palms against the sides of her head, and she thought: Marcus would have done this without hesitating. Marcus would never have looked like Bellamy looked before he started.

She didn't know if that made it better or worse.

Bellamy hit him again.

Then Clarke stepped forward, and Lily opened her eyes to see her kneeling on the ground, the vials arranged in a row in front of the Grounder, looking up at him.

"Which one's the antidote?"

The Grounder looked at the vials. Then he looked at Clarke. Then he looked at nothing.

Lily moved closer, standing behind Clarke, and looked at the man's face. She looked for anything — a flicker, a twitch, the smallest involuntary movement toward one of the colors. But he was closed off in a way she had never seen in any person before. It wasn't stubbornness. It was something deeper. A wall built from somewhere she couldn't reach.

Please, she thought. Just tell us. Just let him live.

"Just tell them!" Octavia said, tears running down her face now. "Please!"

Nothing.

Lily pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. Bellamy touched Clarke's shoulder, the lightest contact, and she understood what it meant: there's nothing more here. But Clarke didn't move, and Lily didn't either.

And then Bellamy reached for something on top of one of the crates.

Lily didn't know what it was until he was already holding it — a metal tool of some kind, something salvaged, something with an end that didn't need explaining.

"Bellamy," she said.

"I'm finding another way." He glanced between her and Clarke. "You don't have to watch."

"I'm not leaving without that antidote," Clarke said.

Lily stepped in front of him. "We're going too far."

"He has to talk, Lily." His voice cracked, just slightly, at the edges. Not anger. Something closer to desperation. "Finn will die if we don't."

She looked at him. She wanted to give him a reason to stop — a real one, not just her own horror at what was happening. But she couldn't find the words fast enough, and Bellamy moved past her.

"Last chance," he said to the Grounder.

The man said nothing.

And then Bellamy used the tool, and the sound it made was nothing like the belt, and the Grounder's body shook even though he didn't scream, and Lily said "Oh my God" in a voice she didn't recognize as hers.

Bellamy turned toward her. His face was open in a way she almost couldn't bear to look at — not triumphant, not cold, not anything she'd prepared herself for. Just shaken. Like someone who had just discovered something terrible about themselves and couldn't yet decide what to do with it.

She held his gaze through her tears.

Then Raven came up the ladder.

"What's taking so long?" Her voice was tight and frantic. "He stopped breathing." She held up a hand before Clarke or Lily could move. "He started again. Next time he might not."

The room was very quiet for a moment.

Lily looked at the Grounder. At Bellamy sitting against the wall now, his hands loose between his knees, his eyes not quite focused on anything. At Clarke still kneeling with the vials.

What are we becoming?

"He won't tell us anything," Clarke said to Raven.

Raven's expression shifted. Something calculating and desperate in equal measure. "Wanna bet?"

She moved to the wall without explaining herself, and Lily watched, confused, as she began working at a panel near the base of the frame. When she pulled two cables free, the sparks that jumped between them made Lily flinch back — and then Bellamy was on his feet, stepping instinctively in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

"Showing him something new," Raven said. She brought the cables together again and let the arc of electricity crackle between them, bright and violent in the dimness.

And the Grounder moved. Just slightly — a tightening, a pulling away from the sparks — but it was the first reaction any of them had gotten from him.

He had never seen this before. Lily understood it in an instant. Everything he knew about pain had a shape, a logic. This didn't.

Raven brought the cables to his skin.

The sound the Grounder made — the convulsing, the way his whole body went rigid — made Lily gasp. The lights in the room pulsed and stuttered with each contact.

"Which one is it?" Raven demanded. "Come on!"

He didn't answer. She did it again.

"Oh my God." Lily's voice came out barely above a whisper. "You can kill him, Raven. Stop."

"He's all I have!" Raven screamed — and she wasn't screaming at Lily, and she wasn't screaming at any of them. She was screaming at the Grounder, the words tearing out of her like something she'd been holding back for days. "He's all I have!"

"No more!" Octavia's voice came sharp from behind them.

Everyone turned.

She was holding the poisoned blade.

"He's letting Finn die!" Raven's voice broke.

And then Octavia drew the edge across her own forearm.

"Octavia!" Lily's voice and Bellamy's voice came at the same time. Bellamy surged forward, and Lily grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling him back, because she had already seen what Octavia had seen — the thing none of the rest of them had caught yet.

The Grounder was looking at Octavia. And his face had changed, for the first time he had some kind of reaction.

"He won't let me die," Octavia said, with a certainty in her voice that Lily had no explanation for. Bellamy tried to take her arm and she pulled it back, and then she dropped to her knees in front of the Grounder, blood running down to her wrist. She pointed at the vials, one by one, slowly.

And the Grounder's eyes moved. Just his eyes. Toward the far right of the row.

Octavia pointed to that one, looking at his face, waiting. And then finally he gave a nod. It was small but it was there.

Lily's breath left her in a long, shaking exhale.

Clarke was already taking the vial, already moving. Lily let go of Bellamy's arm and she followed Clarke toward the ladder, then paused and looked back at Octavia, still kneeling.

"Come down as soon as you can," Lily said, before rushing to the ladder. She followed the other girl down, her legs unsteady on the iron rungs, her hands gripping the rail hard.

Behind her, she heard Raven descend as well.

The sounds of the floor above faded as they dropped back into the lower level — the rain, the groaning metal, the voices. Lily's mind was still up there, still in that room, still seeing Bellamy's face in the moment before he'd started hitting. That look hadn't been rage. It had been something worse. Something closer to grief.

She forced herself forward.

Finn was where they'd left him, pale against the makeshift table, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven intervals. Lily moved to his side automatically, her fingers pressing lightly to his throat to check his pulse. Weak. Too fast. Irregular in a way that made her stomach drop.

"Do we give it to him as is?" Clarke asked, holding the vial up to the thin light.

Lily shook her head, already thinking. "No." She reached for the small bowl they'd used earlier, still damp with moonshine. She rinsed it quickly with the last of their boiled water. "We dilute it. We don't know the concentration — if it's too strong and we give it undiluted directly into his bloodstream, it could crash his heart." She looked at Clarke. "A proper antidote needs to reach the blood slowly, evenly. Diluted in water, he drinks it — or we get it into him a little at a time if he can't swallow."

Clarke nodded, already pouring a small measure of clean water into the bowl. "How much water?"

"Enough to roughly double the volume," Lily said, watching the vial. It was small — barely two milliliters. "We want to give his body the chance to absorb it without flooding his system."

Clarke carefully tilted the vial, letting the liquid mix into the water. It was pale, almost colorless, with just the faintest tinge of something yellow-green that Lily couldn't identify. She filed it away — something botanical, probably, given what they knew of the Grounders — and pushed the thought aside.

"Finn." Clarke leaned close, her voice dropping. "Finn, can you hear me?"

His eyes moved beneath their lids. Not quite open, not quite awake.

"We need him conscious enough to swallow," Lily said. She picked up a small piece of cloth, folded it, dampened it in the mixture. "If he can't manage it, we can try to introduce it slowly through the inside of his cheek. It'll absorb into the mucous membranes — slower than drinking, but it'll get in."

"Will that be enough?"

"I don't know," Lily said honestly. "But it's what we have."

She moved to Finn's head, sitting beside him, and touched his face with the back of her hand. His skin was burning. She wiped the damp cloth gently along his lower lip, watching for any reflex, any sign of response.

"Come on, Finn," she said quietly.

His mouth moved. Just slightly. An unconscious response to the moisture, maybe — but enough.

"There," Lily said.

Clarke tilted the vial carefully, letting the last of the diluted antidote pass through Finn's lips. He didn't resist. He didn't do much of anything — just lay there, pale and still, his breathing shallow but present.

Lily watched his chest. In. Out. In. Out.

"How do we know if it works?" Raven asked from the other side of the table. Her voice was flat in the way voices got when someone had spent everything they had and had nothing left to color the words with.

"We just have to wait," Lily said. She pushed her hair back from her face with both hands, pressing her fingertips briefly against her temples before letting them fall. There was nothing else they could do now.

"He'll need water when he wakes up," Clarke said. She was looking at Finn with an expression Lily recognized — the one that came after the doing, when the body finally stopped moving and the mind caught up with everything it had been too busy to feel. Clarke looked at Raven. "Do you mind?"

Raven didn't argue. She just turned and went.

Lily stood, understanding without being told. She touched Clarke's shoulder once, lightly, and Clarke didn't speak but her chin dipped slightly — the smallest acknowledgment.

Lily stepped back from the table. "I'll go give Octavia her antidote."

She found a steel cup near the supplies and poured in a careful measure of the warm water they'd kept near Finn, then added the remaining portion of the diluted antidote. She held it steady as she climbed, keeping her eyes on the liquid so it wouldn't spill.

The third level was quieter than she expected.

Octavia was near the far wall, sitting with her back against the metal, her wounded arm resting across her knee. She wasn't looking at anyone. Bellamy was on the opposite side of the room, standing apart from the others — Miller, another boy whose name Lily couldn't place — with his arms at his sides and his gaze on the floor.

When Lily came through the hatch, Bellamy looked up immediately.

"Is it done?"

"I think so," she said, with a small nod. "We can just wait now."

She crossed to Octavia and crouched beside her, holding out the cup. Octavia took it without protest, which told Lily more about her state than anything she could have said. She drank slowly, and Lily stayed with her until she'd finished, then took the cup back and stood.

Her eyes moved to the Grounder.

He was still bound, still in the same position. Someone had done nothing about the wounds — of course they hadn't, there'd been no time — and Lily felt the guilt land on her like a physical weight before she could stop it. She looked at the cuts on his face, the bruising already darkening along his ribs, and she had to look away.

She moved toward the ladder.

"Hey." Bellamy's voice came low, not quite a whisper. "Can we talk for a second?"

Lily glanced around the room. Miller was staring at the wall. The other boy had his head down. Octavia was still, the empty cup held loosely in her hands. No one was paying attention to anything except the particular kind of exhaustion that follows a thing you can't take back.

She looked up at Bellamy. "What is it?" She asked with no harshness.

"That was the only thing we could do," he wasn't being hard with her — she could hear that. His voice had that quality it sometimes got, the one she'd noticed first in the cave during the fog, when the masks came down because he was too tired to hold them up.

"What happened up here — that was beyond us. We didn't have a choice."

She looked at him for a moment without answering. She thought about what she'd heard, and what she hadn't let herself hear, standing with her hands over her ears. She thought about his face before he'd started. The width of his eyes. The shallow breathing. How none of it had looked like someone who wanted to be doing what he was doing.

"I know you didn't want to do it," she said finally.

Something shifted in his expression. Just barely.

"But I wish none of it had ever happened," she finished. "Any of it."

"It will happen again." His voice was even, not defensive. He wasn't trying to convince her of something she didn't already know — he was saying it the way you say a fact that weighs on you. "Things like this. It's going to get worse, Lily. You know it will."

"I know," she said quietly. She'd known it since the first day on the ground. The knowledge had been building in her like water behind a dam, and it wasn't going anywhere.

"Then—"

"I just don't want us to lose ourselves." She said it simply, without accusation, because it wasn't one. It was the only thing she had left that she could say honestly. "That's all."

Bellamy was quiet. She could see him turning it over — not dismissing it, just holding it, the way he sometimes did with things that didn't have easy answers.

She reached out and touched his arm. Just briefly, just the light pressure of her fingers through the fabric of his sleeve — the same gesture she'd made a dozen times in the past weeks.

Then she pulled her hand back, took one last look at his face, and climbed down the ladder.

Chapter Text

The days after the storm passed in the way hard days passed when there was work to be done — slowly at first, and then all at once.

Finn was recovering. Lily had watched him silently for three days, making sure that he was not sweating, and that his skin wasn't getting paler. But he wasn't. The morning after they gave him the antidote he had woken up, and the day after he had moved back in his tent. He was walking, but slowly and he couldn't make big or rush moviments, but at least he was alive.

Octavia of course had recovered faster. The antidote had worked immediately on her, and even after at the beginning she didn't want a medication on her arm, Clarke had been able to convice her to let her bandage her.

Lily had been observing both Octavia and Finn with a fear she couldn't entirely reason away. The Grounder had indicated the vial — his eyes moving toward it, that small nod — but she had lain awake two nights wondering if it had been a lie. If he had pointed them toward something that would finish what the poison had started. But Finn had improved. And Octavia had healed. And eventually, Lily had accepted that the Grounder had told the truth.

She had thought about that, in the quiet moments between tasks. Why?

He had held silence through everything, had given them nothing, had endured what he endured without breaking. And then Octavia had knelt in front of him with blood running down her arm, and something had changed. Lily couldn't explain it. She had turned it over a dozen times and hadn't arrived at an answer that satisfied her, it only managed to make her think again at what they did to the man. So eventually she had surrendered that for some reason the Grounder cared about Octavia.

They are humans too, after all, she told herself.

The practical work had helped. In the aftermath of the storm there was an enormous amount to do — fallen branches, uprooted stakes, tents collapsed or torn, the wall in several places needing repair, the path to the river blocked by a tangle of debris that took most of a morning to clear. Lily had thrown herself into it with a gratitude she hadn't expected to feel. Her hands had blisters by the second day. Her shoulders ached. She slept those nights with a heaviness that left no room for anything else — no dreams, no spiraling, just dark and then morning. She was grateful for that too.

The communications tent had been Raven's doing. She had rigged the equipment herself — repurposed components, careful wiring, a setup that had taken two days to get working reliably — and now there was a schedule. Slots for each of the hundred who had someone to speak to. Slots for those who had lost someone, where the Ark's representatives offered what little they could. Clarke spent more time there than anyone, working through the ongoing problem of the Grounders with Jaha and the Council.

Lily had not requested a slot.

She stood outside the tent sometimes, listening to the low murmur of voices from inside, the occasional crackle of static. She knew Marcus must had been told they were alive. She had imagined, despite herself, what he might have done with that information — whether he had stood very still, whether he had let anything show on his face, whether the knowledge that she was alive had moved him at all.

He'll never reach out, she told herself, doing it meant that he had to ask for a slot to someone else. Even if Marcus had given her a job, he rarely wanted to be seen with her. So Lily was sure that this time was not different. Marcus had his precious Ark to make work, that was all he cared.

She turned away from the tent and went back to work.

It was Jasper who found her later that morning, wandering into the medical tent with his hands in his pockets and the expression of someone looking for something to do. She put him to work immediately — grinding bark, measuring water, holding things steady while she strained infusions through cloth — and he submitted to it cheerfully, peering into the bowls with an expression of professional interest.

"This is not different from making moonshine," he said, studying the mixture with narrowed eyes.

Lily looked up from the cloth she was wringing. "No," she said. "This is just a little more useful."

"Useful?" He drew back, mock-offended. "Giving my friends a way to have a good time is useful."

"My bad," she said, laughing despite herself. "You're right."

He grinned. "And besides, Monty and I found some berries just outside the wall. We'll go get them once he's done talking to his parents."

Lily's hands slowed for a moment. She thought of her mother, of how she talked when she was tired but still wanted for Lily to listen to a story before sleeping, the way she would sit at the edge of Lily's cot when she had nightmares and speak very quietly until the fear went away. She thought of how she had always manged to make Lily see things from another perspective. Lily wished once more for her mother to be alive. She needed her voice, her arms around her, she needed to know what she would have made of all of this. Whether she would have had words for it that Lily hadn't found yet.

She set the cloth down.

"Have you talked to your parents?" she asked, looking at him.

Jasper's smile faded. He looked down at his hands. "No, I... I don't have anyone anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Jasper." She touched his arm lightly. "I know what it means."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up, and she could see him reaching for something — some version of himself that could hold the weight of it without collapsing under it. "But we've got each other now, right?"

Lily nodded her head. "Right," she said, and meant it.

He seemed to hold onto that. "So you'll have some moonshine tonight?"

"Alright." She rolled her eyes. "Just a sip. And I'm not going to pretend I like it if I don't."

He laughed, and they went back to work, and for a little while the tent smelled of crushed bark and warm water and something almost like an ordinary afternoon.

When Monty appeared at the entrance, Lily could tell from his expression that his conversation with the Ark had gone as well, he had a relieved smile on his face, and there was not pressure in the way he carried himself.

She began gathering the empty jars while Jasper reached for his jacket.

"Miller is coming with us?" she heard him ask to his friend.

"No," Monty answered with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "He's busy talking to the parents of who died." Lily turned at those words, and she noticed Jasper doing the same.

"Bellamy not going to talk to the Diggs family?" Jasper asked, glancing toward the communications tent.

Monty shook his head. "Apparently he's guarding the Grounder."

Jasper seemed surprised. "I thought he'd be the one to go."

"Apparently no," Monty said simply, and there was something careful in his voice, the way there was when someone was keeping the full shape of a thought to themselves.

Lily said nothing. But she heard it, and she thought about it after they left — about the way Bellamy had been moving through camp since the storm, or not moving, really. Retreating. He was still present, still giving orders when orders were needed, still showing up where the work was hardest. But the third level of the dropship had become something like a retreat for him, and there was a quality to his stillness up there that had nothing to do with vigilance. Clarke had tried to convince him to speak with Jaha, but he refused each time she asked. Lily knew what fear looked like on him now, and she knew he was scared.

She packed up the last of the infusions, filled two cups with water, and went to find him.

Jake was standing near the dropship entrance when she arrived.

"Do you know where Bellamy is?" Lily asked with a little smile.

"Third level," he said. "With the Grounder."

"Thank you." She was about to go, when she noticed a kind of shadow in his eyes. "Hey, is everything alright?"

Something passed across his face — not quite pain, but adjacent to it. A small, tired smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just a bit sad that's all," he said, glancing at the tent where they put the radio and Lily didn't need to ask anything else. Her heart sank when she observed him turn and walk away.

She stood there a moment, watching him go. She thought of all the people she had seen carry that particular expression — the one that came with loss that the Ark had caused and the Ark would never account for. It was so common among the hundred that sometimes she almost stopped seeing it. And then she saw it again, fresh, on someone's face, and it hit her all over again.

Marcus, she thought, with the familiar heat rising in her chest. How did you not see it? How could you look at all of this and call it order?

She pushed the thought away, tightened her grip on the two cups, and started up the ladder.

The hatch was open. She came through it slowly, not wanting to startle him, and found Bellamy sitting on a crate facing the Grounder. He wasn't doing anything, he was just sitting. His elbows were resting on his knees and his gaze fixed somewhere that had nothing to do with the room. His eyes were bright in the dim light. There was not anger in them, she noticed, but she could see he was thinking.

"Hey," she said softly.

He turned. He didn't try to mask what she had seen, which she took as something. "What are you doing here?" in his voice there was no harshness which pushed her to go.

"I thought you might use some company." She held up the cups. "I brought you some water. And — for him too," she added, nodding toward the Grounder.

Bellamy looked at her for a moment, then gave a small nod. She crossed the space and held out his cup, and he shifted on the crate to make room. She sat down beside him. For a while neither of them spoke — they looked at the Grounder, at the walls, at the water sitting still in their cups.

"Bellamy," she said finally, turning toward him. "Are you alright?"

"As good as we can be, right?" He lifted one shoulder in a shrug that didn't convince either of them.

She thought for a moment about how to ask the next question. "Is it about Jaha?"

He didn't answer immediately. She waited patiently for some moment, and then she decided to press on, gently. "What happened between you two?"

"You're here to know why I shot?" He asked, his fingers gripping the cup harder, as he turned to her. He was trying to keep his face steady, but she knew he was worried.

"I'm here to understand what happened." She held his gaze steadily. "Bellamy, you are many things. But I don't believe you'd kill without a reason."

"I hated him," He shrugged his shoulders. "Is that not reason enough?"

"You hate the elite," she said not believing him. "But you didn't kill Wells. Or Clarke. Or me." She looked at him in silence for a moment. "I know you wouldn't kill for hate."

"Then why do I kill for?" He asked with a glare. "Since you've got it all figured out—"

"You're not a bad person," She said firmly looking in his eyes, that widened as she spoke. "Look, I know you're afraid--"

He went still. Just for a moment, and then he looked away, fixing his eyes on some point across the room. "I'm afraid of nothing, Lily."

"Are you sure?" She didn't move back.

He said nothing. She waited — not with pressure, not with prompt, just with presence, the way she had learned worked with him. Giving him the space to decide whether to let her in.

"Bellamy," she said quietly. "Please, tell me what happened."

His legs bounched in stress, and he turned to her, "Why do you care so much?"

"Because maybe I can help you." She said quietly, not backing away from him.

But he shook his head slowly. "You can't, Lily." He said in a whisper. "Nobody can. I'll get the blame for what happened."

She frowned, turning toward him more fully. "You'll get the blame? What does that mean, you'll take the blame?"

But before he could answer, footsteps sounded on the ladder, and they both looked up as Miller and Jake came through the hatch. Miller stopped when he saw her, visibly surprised.

"Oh — Clarke was looking for you," he said.

Lily frowned. "For me?"

"Yeah. Apparently there's Marcus Kane that wants to talk to you."

The air went out of her lungs.

She sat very still for one second, then stood, catching the edge of Bellamy's expression before he could smooth it into something unreadable. She held it for just a moment — that flicker of something raw and unfinished between them — and then she climbed down the ladder.

She stood outside the communications tent for longer than she should have. Part of her — a part she recognized and wasn't proud of — wanted to go in immediately. Wanted it so much that she was ashamed of the wanting. He had sent her here. He had watched her dragged out of her cell without a word. He had looked at her like a prisoner number and she had screamed his name until the corridor turned. And still, some traitorous part of her had been waiting for this. Had kept a corner of itself open, against all evidence, against all reason.

She stepped inside.

He was on the screen. She had forgotten, in some abstract way, that he would look like himself — the same lines of his face, the same stillness in his eyes, the same posture that had always made rooms feel smaller. His expression changed when the screen showed her. She sat down and put on the headset before she could read too much into it.

"Lily." His voice was careful, measured in the way it always was. "I thought — are you alright?"

Lily was confused by the question, "My answer won't be different from the others." That was all she could give him. She could never say that she was fine, because she wasn't, but she didn't even want to show him how scared she was to be on Earth. That would only make her angry.

He looked down briefly. "I wasn't sure you wanted to talk to me."

Something in her chest moved against her will. Her legs were trembling faintly under the table. She pressed her feet flat against the ground and made herself breathe. "Yeah," she said. "I'm still not sure that I want to talk to you."

A silence stretched between them, longer than it should have been. Lily was even avoiding to look at the screen.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked after what felt like hours.

A humorless chuckle left her lips as she looked at everywhere in the room but his face. "I think you've done enough, thank you." She heard the edge in her own voice and didn't try to file it down. There was nothing he could do for her from up there. The Council had no way to help them. Then suddenly, Bellamy's face came to her — on that crate, eyes too bright, the misery of someone waiting for a punishment they expected and was only waiting to arrive.

I'll get the blame for what happened, that was what he told her.

"Wait," she said quietly, before turning to Marcus. "Actually — there is something. Something you can do."

"Tell me," he said, and there was something in the way he said it, a kind of careful attention, that she tried not to feel anything about, but she noticed. Why was he so open with her?

But Lily decided to avoid reading into that, and she took a deep breath before she spoke.

"It's about Bellamy Blake."

Marcus' expression shifted, becoming harder. "The shooter?"

Again that word used against Bellamy made her heart clench, but she did her best to keep her voice even.

"I need you to vouch for his pardon." She said looking at Marcus in the eyes.

His face closed down, the way she had watched it close a hundred times before. "And why would I do that? He tried to kill Jaha."

"Because I think there's more behind his actions than you know." She insisted and she heard him let out a breath.

"You think—"

"Marcus, please." She leaned forward. "I know there's something behind it. You have to help me on this."

"Why would you do so much for a criminal?" The question made her freeze for a moment. She just wanted for Bellamy to be safe. He was doing so much for them, and she knew he could be an asshole but he didn't deserve to die.

"We're all criminals here, aren't we?" She held his gaze. "You sent us here for a reason. But Bellamy found a way onto that dropship with a uniform and a gun. Someone must have helped him in doing so." She saw the slight widening of Marcus' eyes — that particular stillness that meant she had told him something he hadn't known. "He did what he did out of desperation, Marcus. He just wanted his family back. A family the Ark took away from him in less than a day. It wouldn't hurt to show some compassion."

The silence that followed was long and heavy. The kind she knew too well. She felt the anger rise — the old familiar shape of it, the one that came when she remembered Grace, when she remembered all the small cruelties dressed in the language of necessity. And somehow he'd always looked at her in the same way.

"It's no use with you," she said quietly pushing her hair back. "Fine. If I'm right — if I can convince him to tell you what really happened, who was behind it — would you at least consider my request?"

Marcus kept quiet for a long moment, and the anger in Lily was growing but she tried all she could not to snap. Then suddenly he spoke.

"I… yes. Lily—"

"Alright," she said, "I have to go." She pulled off the headset, stood, and was out of the tent before he could finish the sentence.

The medical tent was dim and smelled of dried leaves and something faintly bitter — the white willow infusion she had left steeping since morning. She pulled the flap closed behind her and stood in the middle of the small space, pressing her hands flat against her thighs, and let herself shake. It was too much to hold all at once — her father's face on that screen, careful and unreadable. And she thought about Bellamy, and the fact that if they didn't find a way, once the Council was on the ground he would have been floated.

She pressed the back of her wrist to her eyes. She would not cry about Marcus Kane. She had already spent too much of herself on that. But the tears came anyway — not only for him, not exactly. For the version of this she had wanted. For the conversation she had rehearsed a hundred times in the skybox that had gone nothing like she had imagined. For Bellamy's voice, surrendered like he had long forgotten how to expect anything better. And then she thought about Finn, and Wess, and Charlotte and Murphy and all those who had lost their life on the ground. And again it was too much

She was wiping her face with her sleeve when she heard the tent flap move.

"Hey."

She turned. Bellamy stood in the entrance, not quite inside, not quite out. She straightened quickly, pulling herself together.

"Hey." She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes moved over her face as he entered the tent. "Are you crying?"

"It's alright, it happens sometimes." She said trying to sound calmer than she was. Then she forced a smile. "Do you need anything?"

Bellamy didn't seem convinced, but he decided not to push her, which she was grateful for. "Have you made more disinfectant?"

"Mm — yeah, sure." She moved toward the row of sealed jars, keeping her hands busy. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, I'm alright." He assured observing her as she moved.

"I'm going with Clarke to find some guns. Apparently the Ark has records of a hidden cache — could be useful. We could use a couple of those ampoules, in case anything happens out there."

"Sure." Lily said going towards the table where she kept the ampouls that she had ready to use.

If they could find guns they could really improve their defence, and maybe they could defend themselves better. That was actually a good news, finally.

Then Lily moved towards him, so that she could hand him four ampouls. He took it from her hand and she decided to ignore the feeling in her chest when their fingers brushed each other.

"When are you going?" she asked after clearing her throath.

"In... um... in ten," he said putting the vials in his pockets. "Why?"

"I was hoping," she said looking up at him, "We could talk before you leave."

He took a breath closing his eyes, but he didn't move away, "If you want to convince me again to talk to the Council, don't." He said with no harshness. "I told you that."

He was stubborn, so stubborn that was almost unnerving. But she was not surprised by his reaction.

"I've talked to Kane," she admitted as their gaze met.

On his face appeared a confused frown, before she noticed his eyes getting sharper. "He won't help me."

She shook her head, as she took a step towards him. "I've asked him for help."

Bellamy seemed to think again at what she had just said, as if he wasn't sure he had understood her words.

"You..." he muttered, "You ask a favor for me?" His eyes were wide, but she could see a spark of anger in his gaze. Why was he being so proud?

"Of course I did," she said firmly, "I want to help you."

His eyes went still in that way that meant something had hardened behind them, and his hands went on his hips. "And what does he want in return?"

He didn't have to be more specific than that, to make her understand what he was implying. And her eyes widened.

"What — nothing."

A humurless lough came from his lips, and if possible his gaze hardened again. "Yes, of course," he said quietly, not believing her. He was about to move when Lily's hand shot forward to take his arms in between her fingers, so that he'd look at her.

"Bellamy." She said as their eyes met. "I don't know what you've heard about me and him. But this is not what you think."

"Nobody does anything for nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "Especially not the elite." He held her gaze for a moment, something unreadable moving through his eyes. "And you don't have to do this for me."

"Hey." She said almost desperate for him to listen to her and she gripped his arm a little bit more, feeling the tension beneath her fingers. He looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. "I can help you, alright? Trust me that I can help you fix this. Please — just tell me what happened for you to shoot—"

"People like me don't get pardons that easily, Lily." Bellamy said, "Whatever he promised, he won't follow through. He will just use you."

She shook her head, "Bellamy, please, just trust me. I can help you. If you just—"

Then without warning, he leaned forward and his lips found hers. His hand coming up to her face, his mouth warm and certain against hers, and she kissed him back before she understood she was doing it, her hand moving to his jacket without her deciding to move it there. It lasted only a moment and when he pulled back his eyes were open, looking at her.

"I do trust you," he said quietly as their eyes met.

"Bellamy..." she whispered, just before he moved away from her, making his way towards the exit of the tent. She noticed him stop for a moment there and for a moment she thought that he might turn again, but he didn't.

The tent flap shifted behind him, and she heard his footsteps in the dirt, moving away, and then nothing at all. She stood exactly where she was, alone with the warmth of his palm still against her cheek.

And she could hear only the sound of the camp around her, ordinary and indifferent, and the small, strange weight of what had just happened settling over her like something she didn't yet have a name for. She pressed her fingers lightly to her lips. Outside, his footsteps had already faded.

Chapter Text

She had been staring at the same jar for ten minutes.

Lily was sitting at the small worktable in the medical tent, a cloth folded in her lap, and her hands weren't doing anything with it.

The camp sounds drifted in from outside. Voices, the knock of wood against wood, someone laughing somewhere near the wall. Ordinary sounds. She should have been out there — Jasper had mentioned berries, Monty had mentioned more than they'd thought, the rations were getting thin. There was work to do.

She pressed her fingers lightly to her lips, remebering the feeling of the kiss.

He kissed me, she told herself, still not sure it really happened.

She moved her hands to the cloth instead, spreading it flat against the table, smoothing out a crease that didn't need smoothing. It had been — she counted back — not even two hours since he had walked out of this tent. Less than two hours, and she had reorganized the jars twice and ground bark she didn't need and wiped down a surface that was already clean. Her mind refused to stay where she put it.

I do trust you, he had said to her.

She let out a breath and picked up the cloth again, turning toward the row of small metal boxes where she kept the vials — the prepared tinctures, the things she'd labeled carefully and kept sealed. She reached for the nearest one to check the inventory, and stopped.

The latch was open.

She frowned. She never left the latches open. She was very careful about it. With a frown she lifted the lid.

The vials inside were arranged in their usual rows, small and stoppered, catching the light. She counted them quickly, then counted again.

Ten missing.

She sat back, the box in her hands, and looked at the empty spaces. They weren't scattered — the vials were gone from the front rows, the ones most accessible if you were reaching in quickly, if you were in a hurry. If you didn't want to be seen.

Who would take ten vials? And of this particular preparation — the antiseptic tincture, yes, but also the stronger infusions, the things she kept for emergencies. Whoever it was had taken a range.

But who'd do it? No one had left the camp but Bellamy and Clarke. Who else would take them and keep them for themselves. She looked out and she noticed Raven walking back to the tent she shared with Finn.
Maybe it was her, Lily thought. Maybe Finn had been in need of something to ease the pain. Maybe Clarke had given them to her. But why didn't she tell Lily?

Probably she just forgot, she guessed. Clarke had been very busy lately.

She closed the latch, pressed it shut, and set the box back in its row.

But she looked at the empty space in the row for a moment longer than she needed to.

The tent flap moved, and she turned too quickly. It was Jake. She made herself relax. He was standing in the entrance with his hands in his jacket pockets — he had that slight looseness to his posture she'd noticed in people at the end of a long day, though it was still morning. His expression was easy, pleasant even.

"Sorry to bother you," he said, before observing her face. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She put a small smile in it. "What do you need?"

"Miller said you might come with me." He shifted his weight slightly, glancing back over his shoulder at the camp. "Jasper and Monty found a good patch of berries outside the east side. More than we thought, apparently — enough to actually help with the rations if we can get them all in." He looked back at her. "I don't know plants and I need someone who does, so I don't bring back a bucket of something that'll put twenty people in the ground. What do you say?"

Lily thought about it for a moment. She had been meaning to go out — had been telling herself for an hour that she should move, that sitting still in this tent thinking about Bellamy was doing nobody any good. And he was right: it wasn't as simple as picking the red ones and leaving the rest. She looked at the open latch of the box again. Then she pulled her bag toward her and began to pack it. "Give me a moment."

She added her knife to her belt, a folded strip of clean cloth, the small leather pouch with the dried identification samples she carried when she foraged. Jake waited in the entrance, patient, watching her move around the tent with that same easy expression. There was nothing strange about him. There was nothing strange about this. She tied the bag shut. "Ready."

They left through the east gap in the wall, where two of Bellamy's patrol stood with spears. One of them gave Jake a nod. She noticed that — the familiarity of it — and noted it and let it pass. The forest here was different from the sections she knew best. The undergrowth was denser, the light filtering differently through the canopy. Her boots found the ground with the particular attention she always paid outside the wall — each step measured, eyes moving between the path ahead and the middle distance, scanning. Jake walked beside her, slightly behind, hands still in his pockets.

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked. His voice was conversational, unhurried.

"What?" she asked turning to him with a little frown.

"Medicine." He said, "You know... your plant stuff."

"I worked as a medical technician on the Ark." She held a low branch aside and let it go carefully. "Mostly synthetic compounds and far more advanced machines."

"Mm." He was quiet for a moment. She heard his boots on the soft earth, his breathing unhurried. "You are Lily Hale, right?"

At the question she felt her body freeze, she never liked when someone brought up her life in the Ark. She didn't answer, but he seemed to take it for an affrimation.

"I've heard you've changed station." Jake kept saying, his voice was calm and pleasant, but she didn't like to talk about that.

"Yes, six years ago," she answered forcing a smile.

Jake nodded in silence for a moment, before he spoke again. "Is it true that Marcus Kane set that up for you? The moving? And job?"

She kept her eyes on the ground ahead. "Why do you want to know?" she found herself asking and Jake let out a chuckle.

"Just wanted to know if he really had been that generous," he said, but Lily didn't feel relaxed buy his laugh.

"He is not a generous man," she said carefully. "He does things for reasons."

"Yeah," Jake said. Something in the flatness of the word made her look at him — just briefly, just a glance. His expression was still easy. "People like that always do."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. The trees thickened. She could see the patch Jasper must have meant — a low, shaded stretch where the undergrowth thinned and the soil was darker, good for berry growth. She oriented herself by the position of the sun and the shape of the hill to the northeast. She knew how to get back from here. That knowledge steadied her. She crouched beside the first bush and began to look. The berries she remembered were here — dark, fat, clustered close to the main stems. She reached for one and pressed it gently between her fingers to check the texture.

"These are safe," she said. "The ones with the matte skin. You see how the surface isn't shiny?"

Jake crouched beside her, looking where she pointed. "Right."

"The glossy ones, smaller, slightly more red in the center — don't touch those. They grow in the same conditions." She moved along the bush, scanning. "And there's a vine that sometimes grows through these — thin, pale green stems. If you see it, leave the whole section alone."

"Got it." He began to pick from the bush she had cleared, his movements slow and methodical.

She moved further along, working in silence. The light had shifted — the morning was burning off, the shadows shortening. She concentrated on the task, her hands moving from bush to bush, her mind genuinely engaged for the first time since she'd sat down at that table. This was what she knew. This was the work she could do without second-guessing. She didn't notice it immediately — it came in pieces. The way Jake had stopped picking without saying anything. The sound of his boots on the ground, closer than they had been. The slight change in the quality of the silence around them — not the usual forest quiet, but something with intention in it.

She straightened slowly and turned.

He was standing a few feet behind her. Not in a path position. Not at the angle of someone moving toward the bush she'd just cleared. His hands were out of his pockets now.

"Jake?" she said.

His expression had changed. The easiness was still there — the particular kind of ease that had no relaxation in it, that was held deliberately, like a door held shut from the inside. His eyes were different. She had noticed them before — that quality of contained feeling — and now she understood what it had been containing.

"How well do you know Kane?" he said.

Her spine went very still. "Why are you asking?" She did her best to keep her voice even.

"He wanted to talk to you specifically." Jake took a step forward. It was not fast, but somehow Lily felt the need to take a step back. "Out of all the hundred."

"I told you." She said, trying to keep her voice from shake. "He knew me on the Ark."

"Right." His head tilted very slightly. "He helped you. Gave you a job. Made sure you were taken care of." Another step. "That's what you said."

"Jake." She didn't move back. She measured the distance between them, the angle to the nearest tree, the way the undergrowth lay between her and the gap she'd used to come in. "What are you doing?"

"My mother worked in environmental," he said, conversationally, still that same easy tone. "My father was in maintenance. You know what those people have in common?" She said nothing. "The Council doesn't care about them. They work the jobs that keep the Ark running and they follow the rules and they do everything right. And when the Council decides to cut oxygen because the numbers don't add up, because one is too sick, do you know who fills those numbers?" His voice was still level, still almost pleasant. The worst part was how almost pleasant it was. "I watched them. I was sixteen. I watched them take my mother away, and years after she was floated I found my father hanged. And the people who made that decision — the people on the Council — they're still up there. Still running things. Still untouched." His eyes moved over her face. "And then you."

He moved before she could finish his name.

There was no warning beyond the one she had already ignored — the shift in his weight, the slight tilt of his body — and then his hands were on her, both of them, seizing her by the front of her jacket and throwing her backward with a force that knocked the air from her lungs when she hit the ground. The impact drove through her shoulders and the back of her skull, not hard enough to black out but hard enough that the world went white at the edges for a second, her vision stuttering. She tried to push herself up and he was already over her, his knees coming down on either side of her hips, his weight pinning her before she could find her footing.

She opened her mouth and he pressed one forearm across her throat — not crushing, not yet, but enough that her next breath came in wrong, shallow and catching.

"Kane asked for you," he said in her face. The pressure on her throat increased slightly. Lily's hands found his arm and pulled, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, her heels pushing uselessly against the ground. "That makes you pretty important for him."

"I'm not—" She forced the words out through the pressure on her airway. "I'm not what you think I am to him—"

"It doesn't matter what you are," Jake said. "It matters what it would do to him to know you're gone."

He had planned this, had walked her out here with purpose, had waited for the right moment in the right section of forest, and she had followed him because she had looked at him and seen sadness and exhaustion and the ordinary grief of the hundred. She had looked at him and not seen this.

She stopped pulling at his arm and she moved her fingers on his face, using her nails enough to make him cry in pain. His head snapped back and the pressure on her throat released for the fraction of a second she needed — she twisted hard to the side, bucking her hips, and got one leg free and then the other, scrambling to her feet before he had recovered his balance.

She ran.

The undergrowth was thicker here than it had looked from the path and it tore at her — branches across her face and arms, something catching at her ankle that made her stumble without falling, the ground uneven and treacherous in the low afternoon light. She could hear him behind her, his footsteps faster than she expected, and she pushed harder, her lungs burning, her throat aching where his arm had been.

She almost made it.

She came around the wide base of a beech tree and the root caught her — a thick, raised thing half-buried in the leaf litter, completely invisible — and she went down hard, her hands barely catching her before her face hit the ground. The impact drove through her palms and up her wrists and she heard herself make a sound she didn't recognize, something involuntary and animal, and then he was on her again.

He grabbed her by the hair this time, a fistful of it, hauling her up and spinning her around, and before she could find her feet he slammed her back against the trunk of the beech with enough force that her vision went white again, properly this time, the bark raking across her cheekbone and temple as she hit. The pain was immediate and specific — a burning line from her cheekbone down toward her jaw, the particular heat of broken skin — and she felt the warmth of blood starting before she'd fully registered what had happened.

He pressed her there, his forearm against her collarbone now, his face close to hers.

"I don't want to do this," he said, and the terrible thing was that she believed him. "I spent weeks telling me it was not you. But then he called your name." His jaw tightened. "And I have to do it. I have to. So he will finally understand what he makes us go through." His eyes were bright and too wide. His pupils wide and black.

"You understand? It's not you. It's what he'd feel. That's all I have left to take from him."

Lily looked at him. The blood was reaching her jaw now, warm and slow. Her palms were scraped raw from the fall. Her throat hurt. She looked at Jake's face — at the grief behind the calm, at the boy who had been sixteen when they took his mother, who had found his father after — and she thought clearly, with the part of her mind that stayed cold when everything else was afraid: I am not dying here. I am not dying in this forest for Marcus Kane.

She brought her knee up.

He twisted just enough that she caught his thigh instead of what she'd aimed for, but the impact loosened his hold and she shoved — both hands, every bit of her weight — and got free, spinning away from the tree. This time she didn't run straight. She went sideways, cutting between two close-standing trees where his broader shoulders would slow him, and she heard him curse behind her as he had to turn his body to follow. She bought herself five seconds, maybe six, and she used them to scan the ground.

The stone was half-buried near the roots of the nearest tree — not large, but the right size, solid, with a good edge. She bent without stopping moving and grabbed it and kept going another three steps before she turned.

He was coming fast. His expression had finally broken from that terrible calm into something rawer, and he was not calculating anymore — just moving toward her, and that was what she needed.

She waited until he was close enough that she didn't have to throw it.

When he reached for her, she stepped to the side the way she had not done the first time, and she swung the stone with both hands, putting her whole weight behind it, the way you would if you never wanted to have to do it again.

The sound it made was dull and solid and wrong.

Jake dropped.

He went down in sections — first his knees, then sideways, his hands going out to break the fall and not quite managing it. He was not still. She could see him moving, his hands working against the leaf litter, a low sound coming from him that she didn't let herself listen to. He was not getting up. Not yet.

She dropped the stone.

Her hands were shaking. Her face was bleeding, she could feel it on her jaw now and on her neck, and her palms were scraped nearly raw and there was something wrong with the wrist she'd landed on — not broken, she made herself assess, not broken but deeply unhappy, sending a specific sharp complaint up her forearm when she moved it. She pressed it against her body without thinking.

She did not look at Jake again. She turned toward the light coming through the canopy in the direction that meant east, and she ran.

The wall appeared in the amber evening light, and Miller was the first person she saw.

He turned from where he was standing near the inner side of the wall and stopped moving entirely.

"Lily, where were—" He took one step toward her and stopped. "Hey."

"Miller," she called.

"What happened?" He crossed to her quickly, his hand on her arm, steadying. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." Her voice came out more even than she expected. "I'm alright."

"What is it?" Miller asked in panic as he started to scan the dark woods, "Was it a Grounder?"

Lily looked up at him, and she wanted to tell him what Jake had tried todo to her, but then she thought at the boy he was and what he had to endure because of the Ark, because of her father.

"No," she said. "No — I fell. And I dragged Jake down with me. The terrain was worse than I thought past the berry patch, he went down a slope." She looked at Miller. "We have to bring him back. I don't know how bad it is. He hit his head."

Miller's expression tightened into focus. "Okay. Where exactly?"

"East, past the patch — maybe a quarter mile from the wall, at the base of the big ridge." She had counted her steps coming back. She had made herself count. "I can show you."

"Not like that." He looked at her wrist. "What's—"

"It's fine. I can show you."

Miller let out a groan of frustration, "With everything that is going on!"

Lily looked at him with a frown, "Why? What's going on?"

"People are behaving strangely," he said showing the people in the glade. They were indeed acting wierd. It was like they were drunk. Real drunk. They would laugh, and fall, and yell.

Lily eyes moved to the berries, that many of them were still eating. She put the pain of her head aside for a moment just to walk to where they were keeping the berries. And she realized what was happening as soon as she got one in her hand.

"God..." she muttered, looking up at Miller that had followed her. "Are these the berries Monty and Jasper found."

"Yes, they brought them here this morning." Miller explained, and Lily let out a breath.

"Stop eating it, we can't... we can't eat those," she said, and Miller looked at her with a frown. "They're mildly opiate."

His eyes grew larger as he looked around, "Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't," she said touching her forehead, still feeling the blood. "We have to go take Jake, Miller." She said moving to take one of the torches. "It's too dangerous out there."

They found him where she'd said — sitting against the base of the ridge, his hand pressed to the side of his head where the blood had dried to a dark line above his ear. He looked up when they came through the undergrowth, and his eyes found her face. He held it for one moment. Then he looked away.

She looked at him for a moment. Then she moved forward to help.

When they got back, the camp had settled into its late rhythms. She left Jake with Miller and two others near the medical tent and went to wash her hands at the water barrel, her face next, the cold water stinging against the scrape along her cheekbone. The blood had dried. The mark would bruise by morning — she could feel the swelling beginning, that particular tightening heat. She wrapped her wrist herself, checking the joint carefully, then flexed her fingers and accepted the result.

She was tying off the wrap when Finn appeared, moving with that careful gait of someone with a healing wound. Raven was beside him.

"What happened?" Finn asked, looking at her face.

"I fell outside the wall." She kept her hands moving. "I'm fine."

Raven's eyes moved over her with a sharpness that didn't let anything pass. "You sure?"

"Yes." Lily tied off the wrap. "Finn, you should be sitting down."

"I've been sitting down for four days." He said getting closer to her. "Have you fallen from a cliff?"

Lily was about to answer when they heard shouting from across the camp.

All three of them turned. Someone was running from the dropship entrance. One of Bellamy's boys, still half-breathless, his eyes scanning the camp.

"The Grounder," he called out. "He's gone. Someone left the hatch open — he got loose—"

The news settled over the camp the way bad news always settled — first the hush, then the rising voices, then the controlled chaos of people who had always known something would go wrong and had only been waiting for the shape of it. Lily stood very still. She looked at Raven. At Finn. At the camp organizing itself around this new fact, someone already moving toward the dropship.

"We need Bellamy and Clarke," Lily said sharing a look with Finn that was standing next to her.

Please, come back soon, she thought as she pressed her rewrapped wrist lightly against her chest. Outside the east wall, in the direction they had not checked tonight, the forest was dark and entirely silent.

Chapter Text

The camp was still moving when Lily sat down.

She could hear it through the canvas — the voices, the footsteps going in all directions, Bellamy's boys calling to each other across the clearing. Someone had suggested search parties. Someone else had said the wall needed reinforcing before anyone went anywhere. The argument had been going on for ten minutes, and Lily had stopped following it around the time Raven had pressed her firmly onto the crate and told her to stay there.

"You're not going anywhere," Raven had said, in the voice she used when she was not discussing things. "Sit."

So Lily sat.

Her wrist was wrapped, her cheek cleaned and dressed with a strip of cloth she'd soaked in willow infusion. The swelling had started — she could feel it now in the particular tightening heat along her cheekbone, the way the skin felt too small for what was underneath it. It would bruise properly by morning. She knew the shape of bruises.

She pressed her fingers carefully along the edge of the dressing and made herself stop.

Outside, someone was shouting about the east wall. Someone else was answering. The panic had a particular sound — not loud, exactly, but dense, layered, every voice carrying the specific frequency of people who had already seen enough bad things to know that the next one was always possible.

The Grounder was gone.

She turned that over in her mind. Someone had left the hatch open — deliberately or carelessly, she didn't know yet, and it probably didn't matter, because the result was the same. He was out there, and they didn't know what he would do, and the camp had decided that whatever it was, it would be terrible.

She wasn't sure they were wrong.

But her mind kept pulling back to Jake.

She had left him with Miller. Had helped carry him back, had given Miller enough of an explanation to satisfy the immediate questions — the fall, the slope, the bad terrain past the berry patch. Miller had looked at her face and then at Jake and had not said everything that was in his expression, which she was grateful for. Jake had not spoken. Had not looked at her again after that first moment in the undergrowth, his eyes finding hers and then moving away.

She understood it. She did not feel good about understanding it, but she did.

She pressed her wrapped wrist lightly against her ribs and made herself breathe.

Then suddenly tent flap opened.

She turned too quickly — the bruised cheek pulling in a way that made her flinch — and then Bellamy was there, and Clarke behind him, and Lily was on her feet before she'd decided to stand. Relieved crushed even more than she expected, but then she noticed his face.

"Bellamy—" His name came out as barely a whisper. She crossed to them, and the light was dim but it was enough to see the cut above his brow, the dark smear of dried blood along his jaw. Her hand moved before she could stop it, hovering near his cheek. "God. What happened to you?"

His eyes had found her face the moment she moved, and his expression changed. He stepped closer, his gaze going immediately to the dressing on her cheekbone, the swelling beneath it.

"What happened to you?"

"Miller told us," Clarke said from behind him. She was watching Lily with that careful attention that meant she was already building a picture. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." Lily kept her eyes on Bellamy. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it." She reached toward his face carefully, not quite touching. "We need to clean those. There's blood."

"You can manage it?" Clarke asked.

"Of course."

Clarke looked between them for a moment with the particular expression of someone deciding not to say something, and then she nodded. "Alright." She looked at Bellamy. "I'll come find you when they're ready."

"Ready for what?" Lily asked, turning.

Bellamy's jaw shifted. "I'm going to tell the Council who asked me to kill Jaha."

Lily stared at him. Then — she couldn't help it — she felt something loosen in her chest. "Really?"

He gave a single nod, and she felt her lips turn up into a relived smile. But then she remembered that he had still to be forgiven. And she knew that the Ark did not forgave easly.

"Clarke," she called the girl, before she could left the tent.

"If Kane is there — tell him to remember his promise."

Clarke's brow creased. "What promise?"

"He'll know." Lily held her gaze steadily. "Tell him exactly that."

Clarke looked at her with that same careful expression she often wore, but then she gave a small nod. "Alright." She moved toward the exit and was gone, the tent flap settling behind her.

The space went quiet.

Lily turned to find the cloth, the bowl, the things she needed. Bellamy had settled onto the crate without being asked — she heard the shift of his weight, the particular sound of someone who was more tired than they were letting on. She poured water, checked the temperature, came to stand in front of him.

"You didn't have to do it," he said. His voice was even, but she knew the different registers of his evenness by now.

"I did." She considered the cut above his brow. "I don't trust Marcus on his word. Not without witnesses." She dipped the cloth. "Hold still."

"What happened to your face, Lily?" He asked and she felt her body tense.

"Nothing, don't worry," she said, not quite able to hide the tension in her voice. And he picked it up, because as she moved to clean his cut, he touched her wrist. Holding it enough to stop it from moving, but gently enough that if she wanted to move back, she could have.

"I've got my secrets and I know you've got yours." He said quietly, searching for her gaze. "But if I'm going to be honest with you, so are you."

She went still for a moment, not able to look away from his eyes. And even if she still felt tense, the warmth of his hand give her the strenght to nod.

"Alright," she whispered.

"Alright," he said with a nod.

Then there was a moment of silence, before she spoke again. "You first."

He let out a breath through his nose that was almost, not quite, a laugh. "The man who asked me to shoot Jaha — he wanted me dead too. Wanted to tie off the loose end. He send one of the boys in the woods to kill me."

"Oh my god, Bellamy." She felt the cold move through her chest. "Where is he now?"

"I killed him." He said it the way he said things he had already finished deciding about — flat, direct, but she could see the suffering behind his eyes. "It's done."

She looked at him. At the line of his jaw, the set of his eyes. She almost asked if he was okay, but then she remembered what he had told her weeks ago in the cave that he could not afford to be weak. And she wasn't sure he would have spoken openly about how he felt about what happened.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." She decided to say instead, as she cleaned his cheek.

Something shifted in his expression, briefly. And then he nodded. "It's alright." He observed her for a moment. "Your turn."

She set the cloth down. She was not sure she was ready to talk about what had happened. Then she took a deep breath. "I... um..." she muttered, then cleared her throat. "One of the guys... Jake. He..." Bellamy frowned as he observed her, his body already tensing. "He had seen me talking to Kane on the radio. And apparently you're not the only one who knows that he helped me with my station placement on the Ark."

Bellamy's jaw shifted. His eyes had gone dark in the way she had learned to read, he was getting angry.

"What did he do?" His voice was quiet and even, which was worse than if it had been loud.

"Bellamy." She shook her head. "Nothing—"

He reached up slowly and moved her hair back from the side of her face. She winced before she could stop it, the motion pulling at the bruise along her cheekbone, and she heard the small sharp breath he took through his nose.

"Is that nothing?"

She held his gaze. "Listen." She kept her voice steady. "I get it. That's why I never wanted anyone to know—" She let out a breath. "Marcus. He... he has done terrible things. To so many people." She pressed on before he could speak. "I can't blame Jake for wanting to get back at him in some way."

"Why are you protecting him, Lily?" He asked her with wide eyes. "This guy attacked you."

"And Marcus floated his parents, Bellamy." The words came out quiet and certain, but her eyes stung with tears. "Like he floated your mother. Like he floated Clarke's father. Like he floated people whose names none of us even know." She held his eyes. "I get why someone would want to kill me for that."

"I don't." He looked at her — really looked, the way he did sometimes when he was working something out, following a thread back to where it started. Something moved in his expression. "Why do you feel responsible for what he does?" His voice had shifted, gone quieter, almost careful. "Lily—"

"Bellamy." Clarke's voice came from the entrance. They both turned. She stood in the gap of the tent flap, her expression carrying the particular gravity of someone who had been waiting for the right moment. "They're ready."

He looked at Lily for one more second. Then he stood, and let out a breath, and became the version of himself that walked toward difficult things. "I've got to go."

"Hey." She reached up and turned his face toward her, carefully, just enough that he had to look at her. His jaw was set, his eyes tightly controlled. She held his gaze. "It's going to be alright. They'll pardon you."

"Yeah." He said letting out a breath. "Maybe."

She held his gaze. Then, because she meant it and because he needed to hear it as much as she needed to say it, she leaned forward and kissed him. His hand came up to her face, careful around the bruise, and he kissed her back, and for a moment neither of them was thinking about anything else.

When he pulled back his eyes were open, looking at her.

"You're not off the hook," he said quietly. "I still have questions."

Lily found herself smiling, "Do your things first."

He gave her a look that was almost, briefly, a smile. Then he kissed her once more — short, deliberate. "Wait for me in my tent."

"Alright," she said, observing him as he moved to the exit of the tent. Then she saw him stop and take something out from his pocket.

"Before I forget," Lily frowned as she saw him leaving the ten vials on her table. But she did have no time to ask, he gave her a last little smile and then walked out.

She didn't know how long she sat in his tent.

Long enough for the camp to quiet into its later rhythms — the fire settling, the voices pulling back, the night pressing in on the canvas walls. She had found his blanket and pulled it around her shoulders without thinking about it, and now she sat on the edge of his cot with her wrapped wrist held against her ribs and her eyes on the tent entrance.

The pardoning could go wrong. She knew that. Kane had said yes, but Kane always said things carefully, in ways that left room for them to mean something else later. And the Council might not care what Kane promised a girl they'd sent to the ground to die. Bellamy had shot the Chancellor. That was the shape of it, stripped down.

People like me don't get pardons that easily.

She pressed her hands flat against her thighs.

Outside, footsteps moved past the tent and then away. Someone called a name. Silence.

She thought about Jake. About his face in the undergrowth, looking at her for one moment and then away. She thought about the stone in her hands, the sound it had made.

Dull and solid and wrong.

She pressed her fingers to her lips.

The tent flap shifted.

She was on her feet before he had come fully through it.

"What happened?"

Bellamy stood in the entrance, and she read him — the set of his shoulders, the quality of his stillness, the way he was holding the thing he was about to say.

Then he let out a breath.

"They pardoned me."

She crossed to him. She didn't think about it: she just moved, and her arms were around him, and she felt him exhale fully for what she suspected was the first time in hours, his hands coming up to her back, holding.

"Bellamy." She pulled back enough to see his face. "That's — that's great."

"Yeah." Something tired and relieved moved through his expression. "I told them about Shumway."

"Shumway." She frowned, settling that name in. "It was him?"

He nodded. "He told me to do it — said it was the only way to get on the dropship with Octavia." He took a breath. "He didn't tell me why he wanted Jaha dead."

Lily shook her head slowly. "I’d never thought he would do such thing…"

He observed her in silence for a moment, before he spoke again, "You know him too, huh?"

She did. She had spoken with him sometimes. He worked with Marcus, so it happened that she would meet him in the corridors. He never seemed a person able to do such thing.

Bellamy didn't seem surprised when she nodded. His eyes were quiet on her face. "But you don't feel responsible for what he did."

She understood what he was doing. "Bellamy—"

"You know…" He said taking a breath. "I’ve heard and thought many things about your relationship with Kane," Lily looked away at those assumptions. "But nothing is enough to make you feel so much pain over his actions." He leaned forward, the moviment made her lock her eyes with his. "You’ve learnt my secrets," he said with no harshness in his voice. "If I’m going to be honest so are you."

The tent was small and close and the fire outside threw moving light through the canvas and there was nowhere left to go.

She felt her body tremble, and her eyes water. She had kept this secret for so long, that it almost hurt to let it out. But after a long silence Lily finally let out a breath.

"You called me Kane's pet once," she said quietly. "But I'm not his pet." She met his eyes. "I'm his daughter."

The stillness that came over him was complete as he listened.

"Illegitimate," she kept saying. Then a humorless chuckle left her lips. "Councilor Marcus Kane is always dignified and righteous. He didn’t want for anyone to know so we didn't tell anybody." Then she bit her lips, trying to keep her tears from going down her cheeks. "But he owned my mother. So he helped me after she passed."

A confused frown appeared on Bellamy's face, "So all this time—"

"I didn't want anyone to know. I still don't." She pressed on, because if she stopped she wouldn't start again. "I wanted to come down here and be no one. But I still feel linked to him." She took a breath as some tears ran down her cheeks. "Every time he pushes that button or he agrees on it, I feel like I’m doing it too. Like it's my fault."

Bellamy shook his head, "It’s not your fault."

A sad chuckle left her lips, "I can't help it," she said with honesty. Her voice trembling. "Every time I look any of you in the eyes, talking about how the Ark had hurt you, how much you’ve been through, I cannot help to… to see Marcus behind it all. And…" She looked down, biting her lips again.

"You’re afraid to be like him…" At his words she let out a sob, nodding her head.

"Hey." His voice was low. He stepped forward and his hands came up to hold her face, careful on both sides, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "Look at me."

She did.

"You're nothing like him." He said it plainly, without decoration. "I have watched you fight for people's lives since the day we landed. "You would never have pushed that button." His eyes were steady on hers, but it didn't make you less scared.

"What if this world pushes me to be?"

"You are not him." He spoke as if he wanted for her to understand every word. "Whatever this world asks of you — whatever you end up having to do down here — those choices are yours. Not his. Yours."

She breathed. His hands were warm against her face.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said, and her voice came out soft and a little broken and entirely honest. And she saw him smile at her. She observed his face, before she moved forward and kissed him. And she closed her eyes when she felt him kiss her back. His hand sliding from her jaw to her hair, and she felt the shift in him like a change in pressure, something that had been held in check for a long time releasing all at once. She pressed closer and he drew her in, and the tent and everything outside it lost its edges entirely.

She had been kissed before — briefly, carefully, the kind that stayed on the surface. This was nothing like that. This pulled at something beneath her ribs, made her forget what her hands were supposed to be doing, made her forget everything except the warmth of him and the way he was looking at her when he finally paused, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing unevenly.

"Lily." Her name in his voice, that low quiet register she'd only heard a handful of times.

She answered him by pulling him back down.

Lily felt his arms bringing her closre to him, and her hands found his hair. At some point — she couldn't have said exactly when — they had moved, the cot finding them, the world narrowing to the dim warmth of the tent and the sound of the camp fading to something distant and irrelevant. His hands were gentle around the bruise, careful in a way that made her chest ache, and she had never in her life felt so entirely present in her own skin.

She found herself touching the skin under his shirt, trailing them up until she helped him take it off. Her eyes looked at his body and something shifted inside of her and she brought him back to her lips as soon as he threw his shirt away. Her hands touching his back, loving the feeling of his skin under her fingertips.

"Bellamy..." she let out a quite moan as he moved to kiss her neck. Lily closed her eyes, shifting her legs so that he was resting in between her tights. Another moan escaped from her lips when she heard his hardness rub against her through his pants.

They kissed again as she pushed up enough to have space to take off her own shirt. Bellamy's eyes went on her body as she did so and his gaze only gave her the courage to go on, reaching back unclasping her bra.

"Are you sure?" he asked, just before she nodded, throwing her bra away and reaching out to kiss him again.

It didn't take long for them to get rid of both their pants as they kept touching and kissing.

“Have you ever done this before?” He asked, moving from her lips just enough so that he could look in her eyes.

Lily put her hand into his black locks, gripping it making him groan.

“Please, just keep going,” she said against his lips, before kissing him again. He responded hungrily, shifting in between her legs. She kept kissing him as she felt him moving his hand so that he could position himself against her entrance. She felt extremely hot, feeling him against her, starting to push inside of her. They both let out a moan, and she took a deep breath, as she felt him entering her inches by inches. It was a foreign sensation, feeling herself stretching around him and feeling strangely full, but as he moved she could not help her hips push against him, as if her own body wanted for him to be inside her. Her mouth was ajar as he completely set inside her, her fingers digging into his arm, scratching his olive skin. He kept kissing her neck and every inch of skin he could reach as she took deep breaths, getting used to the different sensation.

“I’m gonna move,” he whisper in her ear, his hot breath made her shiver, “Can I?”

Lily nodded her head, out of words, too overwhelmed by all those new sensations. She observed him getting more comfortable above her, and he suddenly moved his hips forward, the movement made her let out a little groan, feeling him move. And the more he moved, the more she couldn’t control those sounds she was making, until her body was rocked by his thrusts.

“Oh god,” she moaned as he hit something inside of her. He smirked observing her expression, they just looked at each other. He angled his hips so that he could keep hitting that spot that made her gasp and mewl.

“Bellamy, god!” She found herself moaning, as he let out heavy sounds that just made her feel more eager each time. Her body was tensing in some kind of anticipation, she had never felt like that, but she just wanted more.

“Please…” she gasped not even sure what she was pleading for.

“You feel so good,” he said, his hips moving faster and faster as he grabbed the side of her face to pull her closer in a kiss.

She kissed him back as passionately as he was doing, but the feeling of her body, the need of air and their skin touching was overwhelming. He then let out a little growl, moving away from her lips so that he could focus on moving his hips and at that point Lily felt even more overwhelmed. Her head fell back, as her hands clenched around his arms to feel at least a bit grounded, the sounds left her mouth louder and more frequent and her body tensed and tensed. She could feel him move, and she was growing desperate and desperate as her lower body tensed. He seemed to feel the same, because he was becoming erratic and his moans were louder as well. Then finally, her upper body moved forward against him, as she felt like her lower part had became so tense that she was squeezing him. He moaned again, as she felt like she could not see for a moment. Then she felt something liquid, filling her just before Bellamy gave a few last pushes, then he stopped his movements.

Lily was so overwhelmed by everything that had happened, her breaths were heavy, but her body felt lighter, like it had never been. The sweet ache in between her legs and in her limbs only making her feel more alive than she had ever been.

When she opened her eyes, she immediately looked for Bellamy’s. He was already looking at her, with a gentle smile an his face, just before he leaned forward to give her another kiss.

“Stay here tonight,” he said, and her lips broke into a smile, then his lips touching hers once again. But Lily wasn’t sure she wanted to go to sleep yet.

Chapter Text

The morning light through the canvas of Bellamy's tent was the pale gold of early hours, and Lily had learned by now the particular quality of it — the way it made the space feel suspended, as though the camp outside hadn't started yet, as though the world was still giving them a few minutes before it asked anything of them.

She was not thinking about the world.

"Bell," she breathed, her nails finding his skin, and he groaned low in response, his eyes closing for a moment before finding hers again as he leaned down to kiss her.

His hips moved faster now, more erratic, and her sounds were swallowed into the kiss. But the pressure had grown unbearable — hot, tight, all-consuming — until she had to break away just to breathe.

She gasped, her mouth falling open, until it finally broke over her. Her body arched up against him, legs trembling, the tension snapping in a wave that made her whole body pulse. For a moment she felt weightless.

"Bellamy—" breathless, her back arching, her vision blurring at the edges.

He followed not long after, and then they lay still, breathing unevenly, the tent quiet around them.

"Happy Unity Day, I guess," he said, rubbing his nose against her neck, making her giggle.

"Happy Unity Day," she answered, as he shifted back just enough to kiss her again, her fingers finding his hair, as their mouths moved against each other. There was no urgency in it now. That was the thing she kept noticing — how the urgency had become something else in the weeks since the first time, something quieter and steadier, the kind that didn't need to prove itself. She had not expected that. She had not expected a lot of things.

"You've got to train with the guns again today," he whispered in between kisses.

"You said I'm good," she answered. He smirked just before he lowered his head, so that he could kiss down her neck. She let out a contented sigh, feeling his naked skin against hers. This had become ordinary in a way she was still learning to hold — the warmth of it, the particular ease of being with someone who knew her and had not left.

"It does not mean you can stop training."

"You're making it a bit difficult to go fulfill my duties." Her words made him chuckle, and he moved up so that their eyes could meet.

"Am I?" He chuckled. Then after a last kiss, he moved from above her, so that he could start to get dressed.

She thought about how strange it was that this had become ordinary. Not long ago she had lain awake in the dropship cataloguing everything she did not understand about him. Now she knew the sound of his breathing when he was asleep and the particular way his jaw shifted when he was thinking something he had not decided to say yet. She knew that he was gentle in ways he would never let anyone else see, and stubborn in ways that frustrated her even when she understood them, and that he had a habit of checking on her without calling it that — appearing at her tent with a question about medicine when what he actually wanted was to see that she was there. She knew all of this, and she had not planned to know any of it, and now she could not imagine not knowing it.

It was a dangerous kind of ordinary. She was aware of that. The Ark would come down soon, and with it a version of the world that would not look kindly on whatever this was. Marcus would come down. The Council. The rules that had governed all of them for three generations. She did not know what shape things would take when that happened, and she had been deliberately not thinking about it in the small warm hours of the morning when it was easy not to think about anything.

Lily moved up, covering her naked chest and she stayed where she was for a moment, her chin resting on her knees, watching him. There was something she liked about this — the particular quality of early light through the canvas, Bellamy moving through it with that ease he only had in here, unhurried, unguarded. Out there he was always the version of himself that the camp needed. In here he was just him, and she had come to value the difference more than she knew how to say.

Then she looked around for her shirt, frowning when she didn't see it.

"Where did we put it?" she said, confused. Bellamy gave her a glance as he was buttoning his pants, and with a little smirk he bent down to take her shirt and hand it to her.

"How was it there?" she asked with wide eyes.

He chuckled, "Do you want me to fold it next time?"

"Next time." The word lodged itself in her chest without her meaning it to, and she felt it sitting there, changing the quality of the air in the tent. He noticed and stopped moving. She looked at him, and his eyes stayed on her face with that look she had learned to recognize, the one that was not quite readable from the outside but that she had begun to understand from the inside.

"You okay?" He asked, cocking his head to one side.

She looked down at the shirt in her hands. She had been carrying this since yesterday — the particular tightening in her chest thinking about what she saw the day before.

"Lily, what is it?" He asked again, his voice becoming tense.

"I've seen Bree walking out of here, yesterday." He let out a breath, and Lily felt silly for bringing it up; she and Bellamy had not said anything that gave her a claim on this, and she had not asked for one, and yet there it was, the thing in her chest that she did not like and could not seem to put down. Having started this thing with Bellamy was making her feel so good, and safe. She didn't want it to stop. She liked him, and after those weeks she could not picture herself being away from him and what they were doing. But there was something that was bothering her, and she could not push it away.

"Just… I know that you used to do this with Bree and Roma, and I…" She took a deep breath. "I'm not like them. That's all I wanted to say."

Bellamy nodded silently, handing her the shirt. Lily was unsure of what he might be thinking in that moment, and for an instant she was sure he'd send her away from his tent. She observed him put his shirt on, fixing it against his body, his hands moving with that methodical calm he had when he was thinking. Lily felt paralyzed. Was he angry? Had she ruined everything? A part of her was desperate at that thought, but another — quieter, steadier — felt that it had been the right thing to say. She was not Bree or Roma. She was not up to do what they had done, not up to be what they had been to him. She silently stood up, putting on her clothes. And when she was about to take her bag, he spoke again.

"Why are you taking that?"

Lily frowned, looking at her bag, confused. "I'll bring it back to the dropship," she said, almost unsure. But he shook his head.

"We're going to shoot, you don't need it," he said, putting his jacket on. He crossed to her, his eyes searching for hers.

"You can leave it here, and you can put your change of shirt there." He pointed at the side of the tent. Lily went still. She looked at him properly, the way she was not always able to when he was this close.

"You can stay here, if you want. This place is too big for one person." Then he looked at her intently, taking the bag from her hand. "I've told Bree that we won't be seeing each other anymore." Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "I hope you want it to be a next time."

Before he could move, Lily reached out, her hand touching his face, so that she could lean forward and kiss him. She felt him exhale against her — the full, releasing kind of breath, the kind that meant something had been let go — his hands moving around her waist as hers moved to his shoulders. Their lips moved against each other with sweet passion, as their bodies got so close that there was no space between them.

The shooting sessions had been going for two weeks now, and Lily had developed a complicated relationship with them. Bellamy had organized the groups himself — rotating, methodical, working through the basics in the clearing just inside the east wall — and the camp had improved in ways that were visible and practical and that she was glad for, which did not make standing with a rifle in her hands feel any less strange. She had grown up believing that the answer to violence was never more violence, and she still believed that, mostly, and yet she was also standing here, correcting her stance, which seemed to contain a contradiction she had not entirely resolved.

"Relax your shoulder," Bellamy said from beside her.

"Or I'll feel the kick harder." She adjusted, remembering what he had told her. "Right."

"You're doing good." He said, and she could feel his lips turn up. "Just breathe a little. You look tense."

"I never thought I would shoot anything," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the tree line. "Let alone anyone."

"It's a precaution." His voice was even, patient. "In case the Grounders attack, I'd prefer you to know how to defend yourself."

She glanced at him sideways and felt, despite herself, the particular warmth that still caught her off guard sometimes.

"Thank you," she said. "And I know you're right, just… it's a bit out of character for me."

He shook his head, "I don't think that's true."

She frowned, as she turned towards him. "You think I'm violent?"

"I think you're stronger than you realize." He said looking at her, but she found herself glaring at him.

"Rifles are not strength, Bell."

He smiled at the nickname — she had started using it without noticing, somewhere in the past weeks, and now it simply came out. "Never said that."

Lily observed him feeling herself relax.

There was a particular ease to being beside him like this — outside, in the morning light, with the camp moving around them and neither of them needing to explain anything. She had not known that ease was something she had been missing until she had it, and now she was aware of its absence on the days when they were busy in different directions, when the camp needed things from both of them separately and she went a whole day without seeing him properly.

"How have you learnt how to shoot?" she asked.

Something shifted in his expression. Not the old closure — not the way it used to go when she asked something that reached past the surface — but a cloudiness, like weather moving in. "I've been a training soldier on the Ark," he said. "For some time. Learnt some basics."

She turned to look at him fully. "What? Really?"

He nodded, and said nothing else for a moment, his eyes going somewhere distant.

"I thought you were part of the working class," she said carefully.

"Yeah." He let out a breath as he nodded. "Yeah, I was."

The silence that followed was the kind she had learned not to fill too quickly. She waited, keeping her eyes on the tree line, giving him the space she knew he needed to decide whether to let her in.

"Lily…" he said after a bit. "I'm sorry for what I said, about you and about your mother. It's just… I've seen my mother accepting… she did things for me." He stopped and she was glad he did. He didn't need to finish the phrase for her to understand, and she really didn't want for him to think about it. She knew that some women did that to get favours from the guards, she didn't knew that Bellamy's mother did it too. It must have been horrible for him to see it.

"I assumed that was what had happened to you too. And your mother." He kept saying not looking at her. "I put it on both of you, and it wasn't right."

"Bellamy—"

"My mother wanted to help me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the middle distance. "She wished to give me a better life. And then there was a masquerade party, and I thought…" He paused, jaw tightening. "I thought nobody would have noticed Octavia. That she could have one evening that was different." He took a breath. "They found her there. They took her, and the next day my mother was floated."

Lily moved closer without thinking about it. Her hand found his face, gently, the way she had learned he could receive it — not as something that asked anything of him, just as something that was there.

"It's not your fault, Bellamy."

But he shook his head, "I should have protected them."

"You did." She kept her eyes on his. "For years you did nothing but protect them. You have no fault in anything — the same goes for Octavia. And your mum." She felt him hold very still under her hand. "The Ark and its laws have nothing human in them. They just wanted an easy way to keep order, but in time they could not see what they were doing to their own people."

He looked at her in silence, and she could see the tears he was not letting fall, and the effort it cost him, and she did not look away.

"That's why you hate violence?" he said, after a moment.

"I want to believe that there could be other ways to handle the breaking of a law," she said. "Death hidden behind justice — it's just hypocrisy to me. They dropped us here because they needed more oxygen. They don't do it for the people, they only want to buy themselves more time. They always wanted more time." She could feel the anger rising in her.

"They tried to keep order, but they stopped being able to see what they were doing to their own people."

"You're talking about your father?"

She looked down. "He believes in order," she said. "And that strict rules are what will keep people alive on the Ark."

"And what do you believe?" He asked observing her.

Lily thought about it for a moment, but she had no clear answer to that. "Sometimes I'm sure of what I believe." She said. "Sometimes I'm not."

"Down here sometimes violence is the only way out," Bellamy said with no harshness in his voice. And Lily nodded.

"Maybe." She nodded. "But I don't want to believe it."

He stepped closer, and she felt the shift in him. "See?" His voice had dropped to that lower register. "You are strong. Your stubbornness speaks more than a rifle."

"If we are talking about stubbornness," she said, and felt her lips curve despite herself, "that is something we have in common, it seems." She reached out and pulled him closer, and his arms came around her. "I'm sorry about what happened to your family."

"Thank you," he said, and leaned forward, and they kissed — not the urgent kind, not the careful kind, but something in between that had its own particular weight, the kind that came from knowing someone well enough that the kiss carried everything you had not said out loud.

She was still close to him when she heard footsteps at the edge of the clearing, and had just enough time to register their particular purpose before Clarke's voice reached them.

"Lily." Her expression was careful in the way it got when she was managing something. "Kane's on the radio. He's asking for you."

She felt Bellamy go still beside her.

"I'll go see what he wants," she said, and his hand closed around her arm before she had taken a step.

"It's too dangerous," he said quietly. "Remember Jake—"

She turned to him and kept her voice low, away from Clarke's hearing. "He's my father. What should I do if he wants to talk to me?"

"He should be less forward about it." His jaw had set as he looked at her. "Have you told him? About Jake?"

"Are you out of your mind, Bell?" She dropped to a murmur. "Who knows what he'd decide to do to him once he's down here."

"Probably it wouldn't be such a bad idea." Bellamy said and she looked at him steadily.

"This is my burden to carry. I'll deal with it." She said.

Bellamy frowned at that, "So, I should step back?"

"I want you to trust me, Bell. That's all." She insisted. "Please."

He was silent for a moment, and she watched the muscle in his jaw shift, and waited. Then he let out a breath. "I don't agree," he said. "But I'll do as you want on this."

She glanced across the clearing. Jake was at the edge of it, and for just a moment his eyes moved in their direction before he looked away, and she felt Bellamy notice it too — felt the way his stillness changed quality beside her.

"If I catch him come close to you," Bellamy said, his voice flat and even in the particular way that meant he was completely serious, "I'm bringing him away myself and leaving him for the Grounders. He just needs one time."

"Bell—"

"One time." He released her arm. "Now go. I'll see you later."

The communications tent smelled of equipment and the particular warmth of machinery that had been running for hours. Lily sat down and put on the headset and found him already on the screen, and there he was — the same lines of his face, the same stillness, the same quality of presence that had always made rooms feel smaller. She had been looking at that face her whole life and still could not read it. She was not sure she ever would.

"Lily," he said.

"Marcus."

He paused as if he was thinking of what to tell her, which made her frown. "The Council has finalized the plan for the first Exodus ship. It will launch within sixty hours." He said formally, like always. "I will be on board."

She waited in silence, without taking her eyes away from him. She was not understanding his behaviour. He had been calling more frequently since the radio was restored — more than she had expected, more carefully than she knew what to do with. She was still learning what it meant, still deciding how much of herself to spend on trying to understand it.

"Why are you telling me?" she said. "I'm not in charge here. That's Clarke's territory. You should be telling her."

Something moved in his expression — not quite a shift, more like a settling into a different kind of stillness. "I just wanted you to know," he said.

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Why are you so eager to talk to me all of a sudden?" she asked. Her voice came out sharper than she inteded to.

He seemed to be about to say something, but then he seemed to decide against it. She watched his face, and waited. He was acting really strange.

"It is the Unity Day," he said.

The particular weight of the silence that followed was familiar. She had grown up learning that silence, the one that meant there was something he was not going to say.

"Of course," she said.

She moved to stand, but then she stopped.

She thought of Bellamy's face, and the fact that he was now safe from the Ark. Then she looked at Marcus on the screen.

"I don't know if you've kept your promise to help Bellamy," she said quietly. "But if you did — I'm thankful."

He held her gaze. She held his. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then she said, "Happy Unity Day, Marcus."

She pulled off the headset and set it down and walked out into the light, and did not let herself think about the expression on his face until she was far enough away that it no longer felt like it could reach her.

Chapter Text

The fire had been burning since sundown, and the camp looked different by its light.

Lily had noticed it an hour ago — the way the familiar shapes of tents and people had softened, the way laughter moved through the clearing with a looseness she hadn't heard since before the storm. Bellamy had organized this, which still surprised her every time she thought about it. The threat of the Grounders hadn't lifted. The Ark was coming down within days. And yet he had looked at the camp and had decided that one night of something different was what they needed.

She was watching him from across the clearing now. He was standing near the fire with Clarke, a rifle on his back and a apple in his hand, but he was smiling.

He said something and Clarke laughed, and the line of his shoulders had a quality she didn't often see in them — loose, unguarded, the version of him that existed when the weight of the camp wasn't pressing down on every muscle. She had been learning to recognize that version. It came out in the mornings, in the particular quiet of his tent before the day asked anything of them, in moments like this when the light was warm and the work had briefly stopped.

She thought about this more often than she probably should have.

Beforeshe had known him as anything other than the person giving orders, not quite understanding everything that he did. But now she was starting to see him differently. Now she noticed when he was carrying something, when the set of his jaw meant he was thinking something he hadn't decided to say, when the sharpness in his eyes was protection rather than hostility. Now she saw it, much more clearly than before.

And she thought about it most evenings now: how strange, and how glad she was of the strangeness.

How much she liked to see him in so many different shades now, helped by all the time time they shared alone. She hoped she could know him better and better... but than she thought about Marcus. And the fact that she had less than sixty hours for their organization to change.

She reached for her cup — something Monty had pressed into her hands an hour ago with the particular insistence of someone who had decided she needed to relax — and took a slow sip. It burned going down. She was getting used to that.

Less than sixty hours...

She had turned those words over a dozen times since this morning and had not yet arrived at a place that felt like solid ground. The Ark coming down was right. She knew that. The threat of the Grounders was real and it was growing, and a group of teenagers with rifles they had been learning to shoot for two weeks was not a long-term answer to a people who had been living in this forest for generations. They needed the Ark's resources, the Ark's doctors and engineers, the infrastructure of three generations of human survival. She knew that.

But she didn't liked it.

The Council would come down with its laws. With its logic of necessity, its careful arithmetic of who was worth what, its conviction that order required a particular kind of ruthlessness. She had spent seventeen years watching that logic at work and had never once seen it leave room for mercy when mercy was inconvenient. Down here they had been building something — messily, painfully, with more failures than she could count — but building. And she did not know what it would look like when the Ark arrived and looked at what they had made and decided to improve it.

And Marcus specifically.

She turned the cup in her hands.

She did not want to see him. That she was sure of. She had not wanted it to be true, had spent long enough hoping it might not be true, but she had stopped lying to herself about most things and this was one of them. She did not want to stand in front of him on solid ground, in a world he hadn't been shaped by, and try to understand what he was on the ground.

She had no much faith in that man.

Be kind, Lily. Her mother's voice, so clear it almost hurt.

She pressed her lips together and looked toward the fire.

"Hey." Jasper appeared at her elbow, slightly flushed, eyes bright. "So you're that kind of drunk."

Lily frowned looking up at him. "What kind of drunk?"

"The one that gets emotional," he said before chuckling.

"Let me guess," she said cocking her head to the side, "You are a funny kind of drunk." He laughed at her. She shook her head as she looked at the cup in her hand.

"I'm fine, by the way." She said. "Are you having a good time?"

"Extremely." He held up his cup. "Monty's latest batch is better than the last one. He's been practicing."

"I can tell." She said with a giggle. "It tastes better than before."

"I know, right!" Jasper excalimed, before drinking some more. "Well at least we are having a good time, others are too much in to work." He said pointing at one of the tents.

Lily frowned looking at him, "Who's working on Unity Day?"

"Raven," Jasper said, with another chuckle.

Lily frowned. She had spoken to Raven earlier in the week — had known she was working on the bullets — but hadn't thought she would be at it tonight of all nights. She glanced across the clearing. The light in the far tent was steady and focused, not party-shaped.

She picked up an extra cup.

The tent smelled of metal and something acrid. Raven was bent over the table with the focused stillness of someone who had left the party about three hours ago in her head, her hands moving with small precise motions through bullet casings she had split open. She didn't look up when the flap moved.

"I brought you something," Lily said.

Raven turned, and her expression went through surprise before settling into something more measured. "Thank you," she said, taking the cup.

Lily set her own down and looked at the table — the arranged casings, the gunpowder carefully separated, the tools laid out with Raven's particular neatness. She thought, not for the first time, about how much intelligence it took to do what Raven did. She had piloted her own pod down here alone. She had repaired the radio. She was manufacturing ammunition from the components she had on hand. They were extraordinarily lucky to have her.

Then though she noticed the strange way her eyes were clouded, and even if she was not sure she could ask, she decided to do it anyway.

"Hey," Lily said. "Are you alright?"

Raven set down the casing she was holding. "I don't understand," she said. "Finn is defending the Grounder." She gestured toward the table. "He's almost upset that I'm doing this. How can you forgive someone who did that to you?"

The image arrived before Lily could stop it — Jake's hands on her jacket, the forearm against her throat, the way he had spoken to her. Lily pressed her fingers lightly against her cup.

"Probably he has his reasons," she said, keeping her voice even.

"I don't get what it could be." Raven sounded genuinely baffled, which was worse somehow than if she'd sounded angry. "Finn thinks you're kind. Am I missing something?"

Lily looked at her. "I don't think it's a matter of kindness," she said, letting out a breath. " Honestly, I don't know what Finn is thinking. You know him better than I do. But he was the one who almost died. I think our experiences could be perceived very differently." She remembered to have a kind of conversation like that with Bellamy a few days later form Jake's attack.

He didn't understan. According to him, they should have done something, but Lily had asked him not to do anything. From his point of you it was the right thing to do, but from her point of you she didn't see it in that way. But she could not expect for him to understand.

Raven's jaw tightened slightly. "Do you regret it? The Grounder?" she asked. "Because Finn seems to think we should."

Lily thought about it properly before answering. She thought about that room on the upper level, the sounds she had put her hands over her ears not to hear, Bellamy's face before it started. She was not proud of any of it. She would not say it had been right. But she looked at Finn moving carefully through the camp with his healing wound, and she was just glad he was still alive.

"Finn is safe," she said. "We made our choices about how to save him. But I don't think he needs to like them."

Raven looked at her for a long moment. Then she picked up the casing again. It wasn't agreement, but it wasn't argument either. Lily picked up her cup and left her to it.

The evening deepened, and the camp leaned into it.

The fire had burned down to something steadier and warmer, and people had arranged themselves around it in the particular clusters of those who had been through things together — not assigned, just settled, the way groups settled when the edges of who they were to each other had been worn smooth by weeks of shared difficulty. Lily moved through it slowly, stopping when something pulled her, letting conversations find their own length.

She spoke with Monroe for a while about the wall, about whether the new section Bellamy had reinforced would hold against a serious push.

At one point she stopped near where Clarke was standing with Sterling and another girl — the three of them laughing at something, Clarke's head tipped back, her whole face changed from its usual careful composure. Lily watched her for a moment and felt something that wasn't quite envy and wasn't quite relief, but lived somewhere between the two. Clarke deserved evenings like this. They all did, and they didn't get enough of them.

She found Miller at the edge of the fire and said something about the berry situation, and he laughed in the way he did when something struck him as both funny and deeply inconvenient. She accepted a second cup from Monty, who handed it to her with the expression of someone checking on a patient.

She was about to move on when she saw Jake.

He was near the outer edge of the clearing, not quite in the party and not quite outside it — the position of someone who had come out because staying alone felt worse, but hadn't been able to make himself join properly. When his eyes moved in her direction and found her, he went very still. Then he looked down.

She stood where she was for a moment. She thought about the undergrowth, the stone, the particular sound. She thought about what she had said and what she decided to keep for herself.

She didn't move toward him.

She turned, and on the far side of the camp, across the fire, Bellamy was looking at her. She didn't know when he had found her in the crowd. He was standing with his arms loose at his sides, the firelight catching the angles of his face, and when their eyes met he smiled, something quiet and warm, something that had been slowly arriving in the past weeks.

She smiled back.

"I didn't think you'd become this close with him."

She turned. Finn was beside her, his eyes on the same direction hers had just been. From his tone she knew he wasn't saying that as if he was happy for her.

"Only because you two don't get along doesn't make him a bad person," she said looking up at him.

"What about his actions?" He asked and Lily shook her head.

"It's more complicated than that."

"Is it?" His voice wasn't hard — that was the thing that made it harder to dismiss. It was genuinely tired. "Lies, violence, torture."

"He made his mistakes." She kept her voice even. "But, Finn — he wanted to help you."

"So it's okay to torture people?" He was looking at her with sad eyes. And she knew how terrible all of that was. But that was not what had happened.

"Of course not." She said turning to him. "I'm not saying he did the right thing. But he did what he thought was best to find answers. To save your life."

Finn looked away. A breath moved through him. "You don't have to find excuses," he said quietly. "Go to bed with him. But don't lie to yourself. You're better than that."

Something tightened in her chest, but she could not tell if it was hurt or anger. "Are you going to lecture me about honesty after how you've treated Raven and Clarke?"

He flinched. And she immediately closed her eyes, already feeling bad for what she had told him.

"Look." She softened her voice because she meant to. "I'm sorry. That's not my business." She met his eyes. "But what I do with Bellamy isn't yours, either."

He was quiet for a moment. As if he was thinking about what she had just said. And then he spoke again.

"You've always talked about non-violence. Are you still standing by that?"

She frowned at the question. "Of course I am. Why?"

He turned to face her more fully, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening.

"I found a way to talk to the Grounders."

She went very still. What did it mean? How did he manage to? She had a lot of questions running into her mind, but she voiced only one of them.

"Talk," she said. "You mean — in peace?"

He nodded taking a step towards her. "I've spoken to the Grounder—"

Her eyes widened, knowing that of who he was talking about, "Finn--"

"He told me to bring Clarke, so that our leaders could talk." He pressed on before she could. "Maybe we could end this. But I don't want anyone following."

Lily looked at him for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "You mean you don't want Bellamy following."

He held her gaze. "He thinks violence is the only way."

"He doesn't think that lightly." She kept her voice from rising. "Maybe if you tried explaining it to him—"

"I don't think that's a good idea." He said firmly with a shake of his head.

She looked at him confused. He knew she was close with Bellamy, if he didn't want his help, why was he talking to her?

"Then why tell me?" she asked with a frown.

The pause before he answered was one beat too long. And the way he was looking at her gave her the answer. An answer that only managed to made her flare.

"No," she said shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

"He seems distracted enough with you." Finn said glancing breafly at where Bellamy was standing, before looking back at her.

The particular flatness in his voice made her jaw tighten. "Finn, I'm not distracting Bellamy so that you can sneak off to this meeting." She said firmly and almost offended.

"It's the only way we can end this before the first Exodus ship arrives." He insisted, looking at her in the eyes as if he was trying all he could to convince her.

"We need to end this before it begins. Before the Council gets here and makes everything worse. And we don't need any riot because of Bellamy."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You speak like it's always him who starts this. That's not what happenes."

But he shook his head, "I don't trust him."

"And how do you know you can trust them?" Lily asked in return.

"Lincoln said—"

"Lincoln." She heard her own voice go flat. "It's his name? The person who stabbed you?"

Finn's jaw shifted. "You even talk like him now."

Lily stepped closer to him. "Forgive me for being careful, Finn." She said. "But last time, you ended up with a poisoned blade in your side. And now you want to go alone with Clarke to speak with them with no back up." She held his gaze. "This is a bad plan, please think about it."

But he looked at her stubbornly, "It's the best chance we have." They observed in silence for some moments before he spoke again. "So? Are you helping me?"

Lily knew from the way that he was looking at her, that Finn had already decided. And he would go on with that plan even if there was no way it would have ended well. How could they be sure that the Grounders would have kept their word? The only reason Finn was alive was because Lincoln seemed to care about Octavia well being, he didn't do it for the goodness of his heart. He didn't do it out of mercy.

But Lily found herself nodding at his request. Finn seemed relieved about it, before he turned to walk away. She observed him disappear through the crowd, feeling her stomach turn in knowing that she had just lied to him.

She could not let him and Clarke to risk their lives like that. So she decided to make her way towards the only person that could protect them for real.

She moved through the people and the firelight, stepping between conversations and clusters, until she was across the clearing.

"Bell."

He turned toward her, and the smile came as he saw her.

"Hey." He shifted slightly to make room for her at his side.

"I need to speak with you alone." She said quitely, looking up at him. "Can we?"

He read her face, which took him about two seconds. "Sure." They moved to the edge of the clearing, just past the last of the firelight. "What is it?"

"Finn told me about a meeting he's arranged with the Grounders." She watched him. "They want to speak with Clarke. But they want to go alone—"

"I know."

She frowned in confusion. "You do?"

"Clarke told me." He said with a nod, while he looked briefly around the camp and then he looked back at her. "She wants me to follow with weapons. In case something happens."

The tension in her shoulders loosened a fraction. "Yeah, I prefer this plan." Then she looked at him with a frown. "Does Finn know?"

He shook his head, "Clarke doesn't want him to." Then he paused, observing her in silence for a moment. "Why did he tell you?"

Lily felt her heartbeats quicken for a moment, remembering what was Finn's actual intent regarding her and her situation with Bellamy.

"He... thought I'd agree with him." She decided to tell him instead.

He looked at her for a moment, something moving through his expression. "And?"

"And what?"

The corner of his mouth shifted. "Thanks for telling me." His hand found her arm briefly, warm and sure, and he moved to step away, but she stopped him.

"I want to come." Bellamy's jaw tensed at that.

"No, Lily."

But she insisted, "You can't go alone — it would be too dangerous—"

"I'm not going alone." He assured, "Jasper and Raven are coming with me."

She crossed her arms. "Then bring me as well." He let out a breath, but she kept talking. "You taught me how to shoot. I can help."

The silence stretched. She could see him running through it — the arguments, the reasons, the calculation he did between what he wanted to do and what was actually true. He knew she wasn't wrong. She could tell from the way his jaw didn't quite set.

"Bell." She called him and he looked at her.

"I thought you hated violence," he said.

"I do." She said firmly, "But you're not going to attack the Grounders, are you?"

He took a breath, "Not unless they attack us first."

She nodded at that, "Then we're on the same page."

He looked at her for another moment. Lily hoped he'd let her go with him. She wasn't sure she could manage to keep calm knowing him outside, with Raven and Jasper as they followed Clarke and Finn in the woods. She didn't like that situation and she needed to be there.

Then she noticed something in him settled. "Alright." Bellamy held her gaze as he took a step towards her. "You follow what I say."

A smile appeared on her lips. "Of course."

"And stay close."

"Naturally."

"I'm serious, Lily."

"So am I. " She kept her expression level. Then she cocked her head to the side, with a curious smile. "Did you have this prep talk with Raven and Jasper as well, or am I the lucky one?"

The corner of his mouth moved. "You've got a bit of luck." He reached behind his shoulder and unhooked the rifle he'd been carrying and held it out to her.

She took it. The weight was familiar now, which was still strange.

"Let's go," he said.

She fell into step beside him, and behind them the fire burned on, and the voices carried in the warm night air, and for just a moment before the dark took the camp out of sight, she turned and saw it — the people, the light, the ordinary extraordinary fact of them still here.

Then she faced forward and followed Bellamy to find Raven and Jasper.

Chapter Text

The forest smelled different at night.

Lily had learned the daytime version of it — the green, living weight of it, the way light changed the quality of the air through the canopy. But this was something else. Denser. Closer. The dark pressed the trees together into shapes she couldn't fully read, and every sound that didn't come from their own footsteps was something she had to consciously decide not to startle at.

She was getting better at that. She was not yet good at it.

Bellamy crouched at the edge of the path and held out his hand, palm flat — stop — and they all went still. Ahead, barely visible through the undergrowth, she could make out the shape of the trail Clarke and Finn were following. Clarke had the berries.

"At least they are good for something," Bellamy said, rising after a moment, pocketing the handful he'd collected.

Lily found herself in quiet agreement. They had been sitting in the supply crate since the night everyone had been high on those.

The flash arrived before she could stop it: bark against her cheek, the cold of the ground coming up to meet her palms, the pressure across her throat that had made the next breath come in wrong and shallow. The warmth of blood reaching her jaw.

She pressed her fingers briefly against the side of her face and made herself release the breath she had been holding.

"Sorry for bringing up Clarke," Jasper said somewhere behind her, in the tone of someone who had said something without quite thinking it through. "Awkward."

"Shut up," Raven said.

"Both of you shut up." Bellamy didn't look back. Keep your eyes open.

Lily kept hers on the path and adjusted her grip on the rifle.

She was still not entirely comfortable with the weight of it in her hands — had not been, even in the clearing during the training sessions, where the mechanics of it had become almost familiar and the targets had been stationary and the stakes had been theoretical. This was not theoretical. If something went wrong out here, he would have to decide, in the space of a second, whether to use it.

She had defended herself against Jake. Her body had simply moved, had found the stone and swung it before her mind had finished catching up. But that had not been the same as pulling a trigger. She had not killed him. She had not known, in that moment, whether she would have been able to. If it came to it out here — a Grounder charging, someone she cared about in the way of a blade — she still didn't know.

Maybe that's what the body does, she thought. Maybe it moves anyway.

But she hadn't even been able to tell anyone what had happened with Jake. She wasn't even able to speak clearly about it, not even with Bellamy, that knew what had happened. If she couldn't speak that out loud, what made her think she could do this?

"Lily". Bellamy's voice was low, just behind her. "Stay close."

She looked up. He was watching her with that particular attention — the one that meant he had noticed something without making it a thing to address in front of the others.

"Hey." He stepped even with her, his tone firm but gentled at the edges. "I need you focused, alright?"

"I know," she said with a nod. "I'm sorry." She took a breath. Jasper and Raven were a few yards back, their footsteps steady. "We are going to make it, right?" She looked at Bellamy sidelong as they walked. "Without a fight?"

He held her gaze for a moment. She could see it — the thing he wasn't going to say, the comfort he wasn't going to offer because it would have been a lie, and he had stopped lying to her.

"Come on," he said instead. "We can't lose ground."

She nodded and followed him.

The night stretched. She tracked it the way she had learned to track most things out here by the quality of the darkness, the sounds that changed as the hours moved, the way her legs registered the miles. Somewhere around what she guessed was the second hour, she found herself thinking about Unity Day — the fire, the particular looseness of the camp, Bellamy's face when she'd found him across the clearing. Strange, that she could be walking through Grounder territory in the dark and still feel the warmth of that when she reached for it. But it was deeply sad to realize that they seem to not be able to have a quite night. With nothing happening. Would have always been like that?

The third hour, or thereabouts, she thought about Finn's expression when he'd told her about the Grounder, Lincoln. The stubborn certainty in it. She had not misread him — he had believed, genuinely believed, that this was the right way. She didn't think he was stupid. She thought he was someone who needed very badly for there to be a peaceful answer, and had decided to find one before he was sure it existed. But she didn't feel to disagree with him, not on everything. She just wished that they would cooperate as a team, and not going behind each other's backs.

By the time the sky had begun to grey at the edges, her thoughts had quieted into something more functional — the path, the tree line, the distance between herself and Bellamy's shoulder. She was tired in the way that went past wanting to stop, into something almost meditative. Her hands had stopped trembling around the rifle.

Then the light came all the way up, and Finn and Clarke stopped.

There was a bridge ahead — elevated, old, the kind of structure she had only seen in pictures. Clarke and Finn had stopped at its near end, and Lily eased back with the others into the tree cover, watching. She scanned the bridge, the tree line on the far side, the scrub below. Nothing yet.

Then she saw Octavia.

"What's Octavia doing here?" Jasper's voice was barely a whisper.

Lily looked immediately to Bellamy. His jaw had set, his eyes fixed on his sister with that particular expression — not quite shock, not quite anger. But she knew he didn't like for her to be there.

Lily moved her hand to his arm without thinking about it. She felt the muscle there, coiled and still.

Then suddenly Lincoln appeared.

She looked at Octavia moving toward him, and the last piece of it fell into place — how Finn had managed it, who had been the bridge between them. And then Octavia ran the last few steps and Lincoln's arms came around her, and the embrace was not tentative or uncertain. It was the kind that came from people who had already been through something together.

He's in love with her, Lily thought. The man who had stabbed Finn was in love with Bellamy's sister.

"Guess we know how he got away," Raven said quietly.

Lily tightened her grip on Bellamy's arm. She felt him wanting to move — felt the tension shift and gather, the way it always did before he acted on something — and she held on without increasing the pressure, just reminding him she was there.

The plan could still work. Lincoln had already shown that he didn't want anything to happen to Octavia. If Finn's read had been right, if the desire for peace was genuine on both sides, then the next few minutes could end something before it became a war. All Bellamy had to do was hold still.

She watched Lincoln and Octavia separate. She watched Finn reach for Clarke's hand, and she turned her eyes briefly to Raven before she could stop herself. Raven's expression had gone very still. Lily looked away, feeling the particular discomfort of witnessing something that belonged to someone else.

Then Bellamy moved, and she was already turning before she consciously registered why.

His rifle was coming up.

"What are you doing?" She kept her voice flat and below carrying distance.

"Let go." Bellamy said pointing his rifle in Lincoln's direction.

Lily's eyes widened. "You can't kill him — he's not attacking anyone." Her grip on his arm held when he didn't turn to her. "Bellamy!" She called almost desperately.

He didn't lower the rifle, but he didn't fire. And then the sound of hoofbeats reached them.

Wait. Raven's hand went up. Guys, look.

They turned. At the far end of the bridge, three figures were emerging from the tree line — and they were mounted.

Lily had seen horses in photographs, in the Ark's educational archives, in videos that had the quality of something recorded from another world entirely. She had read about them, had known their approximate size and the way they moved. None of it had prepared her for the reality of them in motion — the particular grace, the sound of them, the sheer living presence. For one involuntary second she simply looked.

Then she registered the riders.

Two men flanked the central figure, enormous, their faces hidden behind masks shaped like skulls, long lances resting across their horses. And between them, a woman — upright, unreadable, her expression carrying the particular dignity of someone who had never once in her life wondered whether she belonged somewhere.

Lily looked away from the horses and toward Bellamy. His rifle had moved again, tracking.

Would he keep his promise? The thought arrived with a specific sharpness, and she hated that it did, hated that it still surprised her when Bellamy did the thing she had asked him not to do — though it did not surprise her, not really. Fear in him moved toward action. That was what fear did in him. She knew that. But he had promised that he wouldn't attack first.

She was about to speak when he glanced sideways and found her eyes. Held them. And the rifle didn't move further.

She turned back to the bridge.

Clarke was walking forward, alone, toward the center. The woman with the skull-masked riders had dismounted, and she was walking forward too. Lily's palms were damp against the rifle stock. She watched Clarke's posture — straight, deliberate, the particular composure Clarke had when she was afraid and refusing to show it — and tried to believe it was enough.

Please make it work, she thought, watching the distance close between the two figures.

She was too far to hear the words. She watched the gestures, the pauses, the quality of the silences between them. The Grounder commander — because that was what she was, whatever her title — did not look afraid.

Raven raised her rifle and Lily's hand moved on reflex. But she relaxed when she noticed Raven only peering through the sight. "The grounder princess looks pissed." She said.

Bellamy didn't seem surprised. "Our princess has that effect."

"She can make it," Lily said. The words came out quieter than she intended, more for herself than anyone. "She will."

Then suddenly Jasper made a sound.

"No, no, no." Low, under his breath, "This is bad."

Lily turned immediately with a frown. "Jasper?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bellamy, tight and controlled.

Jasper didn't answer. He was looking through the rifle sight, his body gone rigid, and Lily watched the tension move through him. What did he see?

"The Grounders are in the trees."

The breath left her before she could stop it. She turned to Bellamy and in his eyes were scanning the trees. Lily tried to do the same but she couldn't see anything.

"Where?" Bellamyn asked confused. Lily really hoped that Jasper was mistaken.

"Are you sure?" Raven asked with a frown.

"I don't see anything," Bellamy said, but then siddenly Jasper let out a gasp and before one of them could do anything, he moved.

"They're gonna shoot!" He yelled, making everyone turn in their direction, "Clarke, run!"

And then everything happened at once.

The first shots were Jasper's. They broke the morning open, and for a full half-second Lily stood exactly where she was with her rifle in her hands and the sound ringing through her body — nothing like the training sessions, nothing like the controlled percussion of the clearing inside the east wall. This was inside her chest, inside her teeth. A man fell from the trees. He had been there. Jaspen was right...

Then the arrows began.

They came from the tree line on the far bank, fast and low, and the four of them moved without discussing it — down to the stream bank, behind what cover there was, Jasper still firing. Lily brought her rifle up. Her hands were steady. She aimed at the space between the branches and held the position and did not pull the trigger, because there was nothing specific in her sights.

What should I do? She trembled. What do I do?

Then the shot from directly beside her made her flinch — Bellamy, not at the trees but at the bridge, and when she tracked his line she saw the commander stumble, her shoulder struck, already moving away.

"Go, go!" Bellamy's voice was behind her, "Lily, go!" And she was running.

She ran.

The woods closed around her immediately — branches catching at her jacket, roots she had to read in half-seconds, the ground uneven beneath her boots. Behind her she could still hear the arrows, the crack of Jasper's rifle, and then Bellamy's voice again cutting through it all, close and certain, and she ran toward the sound of him.

She had not fired.

The thought arrived between one stride and the next and stayed there, flat and specific and impossible to put down. She had brought the rifle up. Her hands had been steady. And she had held the position and not pulled the trigger, and now she was running through the forest with her heart hammering against her ribs, and she kept thinking: what if Bellamy had been hit? What if it had been Jasper, or Raven, or Clarke on that bridge? What if her hesitation had cost someone something she could never give back?

She had defended herself against Jake. Her body had moved then without asking permission. But this had been different — a choice, a real one, and she had made it, and she didn't know yet if it had been right or only the thing she was capable of.

You hate violence, Bellamy had said to her. She did. She still did.

But hating something and being safe from its consequences were not the same thing.

The trees thinned. She could see Finn ahead, Clarke beside him, Octavia just behind — all of them moving fast, not yet speaking, the shared understanding of people who knew they were not yet clear. Lily pushed harder.

They ran for a long time. The forest changed around them — the quality of light shifting as the sun climbed, the sounds of the birds returning slowly to the canopy as if testing whether the morning had gone back to normal. It had not. She could feel the camp pulling at her from ahead, that particular orientation she had developed over weeks of knowing where north was relative to the dropship, and she followed it without having to think.

When the wall finally appeared through the trees, grey and solid in the evening light, she felt the breath leave her in one long, involuntary release.

They had been in the forest for almost a full day.

Nobody spoke until they were inside and the gate had been drawn shut behind them, and even then the silence lasted another full minute — six people standing in the clearing, breathing hard, the camp moving around them with the ordinary sounds of evening that felt, at that moment, almost incomprehensible.

Lily stood between Bellamy and Clarke and pressed her hands flat against her thighs and made herself breathe.

"You've got something to say?"

She turned. Bellamy was looking at Finn, who was looking back at all of them with something that had passed through fury and arrived somewhere quieter and colder.

"I told you — no guns."

"I told you we couldn't trust the Grounders," Clarke said. "And I was right."

"Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?" Raven's voice was tight in a different way — not at Clarke, at Finn.

"I tried," Finn argued back. "But you were busy with the guns."

"You're lucky she brought that." Bellamy's voice was hard and flat. "They came there to kill you."

"You don't know that!" Finn excalimed.

Lily stepped forward. "Finn." She kept her voice below the heat of it. "They had weapons too. You saw it."

"It was Jasper who fired the first shot!" Finn said.

"You ruined everything." Octavia's voice, directed at Jasper, and Lily watched it land on him — watched his face receive it and close around it.

"I saved you." His voice cracked slightly at the edges. He was already backing away. "You're welcome." He turned and shook his head and walked.

"Jasper—" Lily reached for his arm and he moved past her touch without looking at her, and she let him go, because she knew the shape of what he was carrying and she knew it needed to be set down somewhere private.

"Well, if we weren't at war already, we sure as hell are now." Finn, still going.

Lily looked down. She could not disagree. Whatever the Grounders' intentions had been on that bridge, this was what they were left with. Shots fired. The commander wounded. A man dead in the trees. Whatever Lincoln had promised Finn had ended in a way that could not be undone.

"You didn't have to trust the Grounders," Finn said, and now it was only at Clarke. "You just had to trust me."

Then he walked away and Raven followed letting out a breath.

Lily watched them go. She thought about Finn's face when he'd asked her — obliquely, carefully — to keep Bellamy occupied. She thought about the rifle in her hands at the stream bank, the moment she had held the sight steady and not fired. She thought about what it would mean if the Grounders came for them now in force, and whether not pulling that trigger had made any difference to anything at all.

She didn't know. She was beginning to accept that there were things like that — things you did or didn't do whose consequences you would never be able to fully read.

"Like I said," Bellamy said, with that particular flatness that meant he was containing something, "best Unity Day ever."

She turned and looked at him, sharing a glance that made him touch her back, silently leading her inside. But before she could walk away, she turned to the other girl.

"Clarke." She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "It was the right thing to do."

Clarke looked at her. Something in her jaw shifted. But with a little sad smile, she nodded.

They were turning back toward the camp when the sound reached them.

It was not a sound she had heard before, but her body understood it before her mind did — the deep, percussive wrongness of something large descending too fast, the particular quality of an impact that hadn't been cushioned. She looked up the same moment Bellamy did, and Clarke half a second after.

"The Exodus ship?"

"So soon?" Lily's frown came immediately. "They were supposed to be here in two days."

"They must have decided to come earlier," Bellamy said, from just behind her.

Clarke's face had opened into something that was almost relief, almost joy, and Lily watched her and understood it; she was probably thinking about her mother. As the chief doctor, she was surely coming down with Marcus. And she observed the longing smile on her face, that anticipation of wanting to meet a person she loved that much again after so much time. And Lily wanted to feel it too, she really did, but found she couldn't. The thought of seeing Marcus was giving her so many mixed thoughts and feelings.

She was sure that Clarke and her mother would have hugged each other, once they would meet. What would have her and Marcus do?

Nothing surely, she thought bitterly. They would have looked at each other from across the camp, not daring to speak to each other with so many people around. Like it had always been.

Lily had so many questions on what he would have done once on the ground. How he would have handeled everything. And part of her was sure that he would disappoint her again, and yet she hoped he wouldn't.

Stop that, Lily, she told herself as she kept looking up.

As she looked the dropship keeping with its descend, Lily found herself frowning. It was so strange that Marcus had told her that the landing was scheduled in sixty hours. Why tell her that if he was going to be on the ground earlier?

That thought made her really consider that. It didn't make any sense.

"Wait." Clarke's voice had changed. Lily turned to her, a strange feeling was creeping in her stomach.

"Too fast," Clarke said and only then Lily noticed it. The angle was strange, the deceleration sequence hadn't engaged, the parachute wasn't there, and the thing descending was no longer a ship being guided but an object obeying gravity, and they were watching it and there was nothing any of them could do.

Lily's eyes widened when the ship hit the ground. It was far from they were, but they could still see it and hear it.

The sound traveled through the earth before it reached the air — she felt it in her feet, in her spine — and then the sky lit with it, the explosion blooming orange against the dark, and the sound that followed was the kind that stopped thought entirely.

Lily's hand found Bellamy's arm. She was not aware of reaching for it. Her breath laboured.

And then she saw it, the cloud rising up into the sky, dark smoke that brought fire with it. Fire from an explosion.

The Exodus had crashed.

Marcus, she thought.

Chapter Text

The canvas of the tent had gone from black to grey without Lily noticing the exact moment it changed.

She had been watching it happen — or not watching, exactly, more blankly staring the gradual change of lightening. Her eyes were open and her mind was somewhere else entirely. She had not slept. She was not sure she had even tried, in the proper sense of the word. She had lain down because Bellamy had insisted, but she had not closed her eyes because it was easier than explaining that doing it made it only worse.

When her eyes were closed she saw the dark sky lit orange again.

She saw the cloud rising — dark smoke, fire at the base of it, and the explosion. She didn't want to think about it, but her mind kept going back there in the way a tongue returns to a sore tooth. She would get somewhere else in her thoughts and then she would be back there, watching it from the clearing, her hand finding Bellamy's arm before she knew she had moved.

Marcus, she had thought. That single word, simple and declarative, arriving before anything else.

That had been hours ago. She had been lying here for hours.

He was going to be on the first ship, she kept talking. The image of her father's face in the screen flashed once again. And then she would close her eyes to not think of him, but she'd seen the explosion again.

She had been doing this for hours. Starting the thought and running it until it hit the wall of what she didn't know, and then starting again from a different angle, looking for the place where it resolved into something she could hold. But it didn't resolve. It just kept moving in the same circle, wearing a groove into her, and she was exhausted from it and still could not stop.

He's dead.

The thought arrived with a flatness that surprised her. And that frightened her more than sharpness would have. She felt the tears burn at the edges of her eyes and she pressed her fingers against them.

You've been angry at him your whole life, she thought. And now what?

She didn't have an answer. She had spent seventeen years watching Marcus Kane make hard decisions in the name of order and feeling the particular fury of someone who understood the logic and hated the cost of it. She had stolen medicine for Grace and landed in the skybox and been dragged to the dropship while she screamed his name, and he had stood there like stone. She had every reason to feel nothing.

But she did not feel nothing. She felt something large and formless that she didn't have a name for, the kind of feeling that came from a long history that had never been resolved, and now it would never be resolved. Whatever she and Marcus Kane had been to each other, whatever it might have become, that was over. And she had never—

She stopped herself again. Pressed her palms flat against her thighs.

Outside, she could hear the camp beginning to move. Low voices. Purposeful footsteps. The particular sounds of people preparing for something.

They're getting ready, she thought.

She thought about Clarke's face last night, how it changed after the explosion. Clarke had tried to run toward it, and Bellamy had to physically blocking her, his arms around her from behind as she struggled, and Clarke making sounds that Lily had not been able to fully hear and had been grateful not to hear. Bellamy speaking into the top of Clarke's head.

"We can't go now," Bellamy had said.

"I have to go," Clarke had tried to get free, but Bellamy hadn't let her.

"We can't go alone," he had insisted. "We need to organize a rescue party. Hey," he had said making Clarke look at him. "We'll go at first light, but we need more people."

Lily had stood very still through all of it, frozen in a way she recognized. She had already felt that... when her mothe had died. The stillness that came when too many things were happening at once and the mind simply could not keep up. She could not stop her mind from thinking about Marcus and the fact that he had just crushed on the ground before her eyes.

And after hours, Lily was mentally still in that moment.

She sat up, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, and made herself breathe.

The canvas had gone from grey to pale gold, that was the color of the dawn.

She reached for her shirt, her jacket. Found her boots and started pulling them on. She was tying her shoes when she heard the flap of the tent move.

She didn't turn. She knew the sound of it — the particular way it shifted, the weight of the footsteps on the earth outside.

"Hey," Bellamy's voice came soft, almost careful.

"Hey." She kept her eyes on her laces, trying to keep her voice even.

"We're moving out in ten minutes." He said quietly. Lily nodded her head.

"Yeah." She finished with the first boot and started on the second. "So I've heard."

He was quiet for a moment. She could feel him looking at her, and she kept her hands moving, kept her eyes down. Only the feeling of his gaze was enough to make her tear up.

"Sure you don't want to come?" he asked at some point.

She had known the question was coming. They had briefly spoken about it last night. She remembered him asking if she wanted to help organize it. She remembered shaking her head. She remembered her eyes burning. She did not remember if he had told her to lie down or if she had simply gone, the two things blurring together in the fog of those hours.

She stood up, smoothing her shirt against her sides, still not turning toward him. "No. I…" She cleared her throat. "I think it's better for me to... to stay here."

"Don't you want to know if your dad was on that ship?"

The question landed the way she had known it would if she had let herself anticipate it, which she had been working hard not to do.

"It crashed," she said putting her jacket on. Her voice was flat. "Whether Marcus was there or not, I cannot know."

"You said he would have been on the first ship to land."

"I don't want to go, Bell, alright?!" She turned to him sharply, and then when she met his wide gaze she felt the tears came before she could stop them.

"God," she said, covering her face with her hands. "I'm so sorry." She let out a sob.

"Hey." He crossed the tent in a few steps and his arms came around her, steady and unhurried, the way they always were when she needed them to be. She pressed her face against his shoulder and felt the tears she had been not-crying all night finally go somewhere.

"It's alright," he said. "It's alright. You don't have to come."

She nodded against him, not trusting her voice.

His hand moved on her back, slow and patient. "I'll be back later. Keep an eye on the camp."

She pulled back just far enough to look at him, scrubbing at her face with the back of her hand, and nodded again. He looked at her for a moment, and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, warm and brief, and let her go.

She listened to his footsteps toward the entrance.

"Be careful out there," she said, her voice coming out thin.

He turned in the gap of the tent flap, and she saw him take her in, standing in the middle of the tent with her hands at her sides and her eyes still red. Something moved through his expression. Then he was gone, and the canvas settled behind him, and the camp sounds closed over his departure like water.

She stood there for another moment. Then she went to find something to do.

The work helped, like it always helped; giving her hands something to be and her mind a narrow track to run on. She started in the medical tent.

, going through the supplies with a methodical attention that did not require her to think about anything beyond what was in front of her. Inventory. Restocking. Checking the infusions she had left steeping overnight. The willow bark that needed another hour. The plantain paste that had set properly and needed to be transferred.

She worked through it all twice.

By the time she had finished the second pass, the camp had settled into its reduced morning rhythms — fewer people, the clearing quieter without Bellamy's presence at the center of it, the wall guard rotation going on without the usual oversight. She did what she could. She spoke to Miller about the patrol schedule, walked the wall once to check the new section Bellamy had reinforced, came back and found something else to do.

She thought about Marcus again, and she made herself stop, and then she thought about him anyway.

They little memories of him were bitter. Because when she thought of her mother, Lily remembered how she brushed her hair, and how they would laugh and wander when she spoke stories about the Earth. She remembered them reading together and walking through the corridors of the Ark hand in hand.

But with Marcus she had nothing of that. She remembered him across the hall. Or talking quietly to her mother at their door. She remembered him telling her not to cry as she brought her things in the Alpha Station. And she remembered him leaving her alone in the cellar he had given to her. She had no warm memory, not a smile, not an hug or reassuring words. And yet here she was, unable to stop thinking about his death.

She pressed her fingers against her eyes and made herself move.

The afternoon settled around her. The clearing was warm in the particular way of late summer afternoons, the light coming through the canopy at a low angle, throwing long shadows across the ground. She collected the dried mallow and yarrow she had hung three days ago, stripped and sorted them with hands that did not shake as badly as they had in the morning. She made a new batch of the antiseptic tincture, slower than usual, letting the attention the process required fill the spaces where the thoughts wanted to go.

By the time the light had begun to warm to amber, she had been moving through the camp for the better part of a full day and had managed to be useful for most of it.

They had not come back yet.

She had been tracking the light, the way it moved across the camp. First light, mid-morning, the high flat white of noon, the drop into late afternoon. She had not looked at the east wall as often as she had wanted to, which was to say she had looked at it constantly, every pass through the clearing catching her eye with the hope and the dread of seeing a group emerge from the trees.

They had not.

She was at the fire, adjusting one of the pots, when Octavia appeared at her shoulder.

Lily looked at her. She had been aware of Octavia moving through the camp all day — that particular quality of movement that came with the kind of anger that had nowhere to go, careful and too-controlled, speaking in short answers to the people who spoke to her and avoiding the ones who didn't.

"Hey," Lily said.

Octavia said nothing for a moment. She was looking at the fire with her jaw set in the way Lily had learned to recognize as the Blake default setting for strong feeling. "When they get back," she said finally, "tell my brother I'm still furious with him."

"Or you can tell him yourself," Lily said carefully.

The girl let out a breath as she shook her head. "It's pointless talking to him." Then she turned to go away.

"Octavia." Lily turned from the fire. "Be angry at him when you know he's safe."

The other girl's eyes moved to her face. "I'll be angry at him forever for what he had done to Lincoln, and for starting a war."

Lily looked at her properly. Looked at the line of her jaw, the brightness behind her eyes, and understood what she was actually seeing.

"Alright..." Lily said, more quietly.

Octavia turned away, and that was when Lily felt it — the particular sting behind her own eyes that she had been managing all day, the thing she had been pressing down since that morning in the tent. Something in her face must have changed, because Octavia turned back.

"What's wrong with you?" Not unkind. Just direct in the way Octavia always was.

"Nothing." Lily pressed her lips together, getting up before her eyes started to water again.

"I'm going to go get some plants. I'm running low on a few things." She reached for her knife, looping it onto her belt.

"What? Now?" Octavia asked with a confused frown.

"I need some flowers that bloom at night," Lily explained, "Evening primrose. Their just outside the wall."

"Are you sure?" Octavia asked observing her and Lily nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said pointing at her back "It's really close, I'll be visible from the guard post. Don't worry."

She didn't wait for Octavia to respond.

Connor at the gate looked at her with the expression of someone who wanted to argue about it, but Lily insisted and after some minutes of arguing, he finally let her go.

The air outside the wall was different in the evenings — cooler, the particular cleanness of late day in the forest, the light coming from low and sideways and turning everything warm. She moved a few yards out, crouching near a stand of plantain with little yellow flowers. It had grown thick in a patch of disturbed earth near the base of the wall. She pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket and began to harvest.

Her hands moved, and her mind went.

She let the tears come this time, because there was nobody to see them and she was tired of managing them. They came slowly, the way they did when the well had been almost emptied already — a few at a time, rolling down to her jaw, cooling against her skin. She pressed the back of her wrist against them without stopping the harvest.

Stop crying, she said to herself. There's no reason to cry.

But it was no use, for some reason more tears went down, hot against her cheeks. And she closed her eyes.

Then suddenly, Lily heard footsteps coming from behind her.

She turned with her hand already on the knife, the motion automatic, and then she went very still.

Jake was standing a few yards away, his hands raised, his expression carrying something careful and afraid.

She stood up slowly, the knife in her hand, trying to keep her hold on it stead. "Don't come any closer," she said.

He stopped his steps, his hands still up where she could see them. "I didn't want to hurt you." His voice was quiet, and almost trembling as he observed her. "I know that doesn't mean anything."

Her eyes quickly scanned him to be sure he was not armed, that he was really there just to talk. "And I should believe you?" she asked, feeling her legs tremble.

He let out a breath, taking another step. "Look, I'm sorry—"

"You can be sorry without walking toward me." She watched him stop, the knife in her hand still pointed at him.

"I had—" He swallowed. "That night. I had eaten those berries." His jaw shifted. "I was — I was frightened. I was not thinking right. I am—" He stopped to take a breath. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't just scare me," she said. Her voice was level, which surprised her. "You almost killed me."

"I know." His eyes were bright. "And I'm so sorry. I just—" He pressed his lips together. "I miss my parents."

That words hit her more than they should have, she knew. But she could not help but to close her eyes.

She thought about the things she had been thinking about for the past twelve hours. She thought about Marcus in the wreckage of an Exodus ship, and the conversations they would never have. And she felt stupid for thinking that their relationship would have ever changed. She knew who he was.

Marcus had been one of the reason why they had all suffered. Each one of them.

Try to be kind, Lily, her mother's voice rang in her mind.

She did not wipe her eyes when tears went down her cheeks this time.

"I know that I can't ask for your forgiveness," Jake said almost carefully. "I just wanted to thank you. For not reporting it."

"Yeah, well..." Lily said with a nod of her head, looking at him properly. "I don't think you need to thank me for that."

The silence between them was a different kind than it had been before. Not the deliberate ease he had been constructing on the walk to the berry patch. Something stripped and quieter and—

They both turned at the same moment.

The sound came from the eastern tree line. Not a clean sound — not the purposeful footfall of a group returning, nothing organized or deliberate. Something ragged. Uneven. A weight landing wrong with every step, and underneath it a breathing that was wrong in a specific way that made Lily's hands go still.

"Grounders?" Jake said.

"I don't know." Lily whispered, still looking at the dark woods.

She moved toward it before she had consciously decided to. Her knife was in her hand and her heart was in her throat and the shadows between the trees had the particular thickness of late evening, hard to read, shapes becoming other shapes. She pushed through the outer edge of the undergrowth when she saw a dark shape.

He was on his feet — barely. He was upright in the way of someone who had decided to stay upright through force of will rather than structural capability, his weight shifted wrong, one leg favoring the other. But when she saw his face, Lily's eyes widened.

"Murphy," she breathed.

Murphy's face was covered in cuts and blood, swollen by bruises. His shirt was torn, dried blood dark on the cloth. And even as she registered all of it, she saw his eyes find her face and go strange with something she recognized with a shock as relief.

His knees buckled.

"Oh my God, Murphy—" She was already moving, already reaching him as he went down, her hands finding his arms, trying to slow the fall. He groaned — a sound that was mostly air, almost nothing — and she got one knee under him, her hands against his chest and his arm, getting him down to the ground instead of against it.

"Hey." She got her face in front of his. "You have to stay awake, alright?" His eyes were trying to focus. "Stay with me." He groaned again, and she saw the fear in him through the pain — that animal readiness of someone who did not know if this was safe and could not yet afford to find out.

"Jake." She didn't look up. "Help me get him to camp."

"But..." Jake said stuttering, "He's been banished."

Lily turned to him, with wide eyes, "He's hurt. What is he going to do in this state?"

Jake didn't move. She could feel his hesitation from six feet away. Lily turned to look at Murphy again, his breath ragged, his eyes doing everything to keep themselves open.

"Fine," she said firmly. "I'll bring him in myself if I have to."

She got Murphy's arm over her shoulders, pressing her own shoulder up under his, trying to take the weight while keeping herself from being pulled down. He made a sound that cost him, and she felt the full weight of him for a moment before she found her footing.

Then she heard Jake let out a long, frustrated breath, and he appeared at Murphy's other side.

"This is a bad idea," he said.

"I won't leave him out here alone." She got her feet under her. "Come on," she said before they started to make their way towards the fance.

"Don't shoot!" she shouted as the wall resolved out of the dark ahead of them, torchlight glancing off the top. "Don't shoot!"

Octavia's voice came from the top of the barricate, sharp and alert. "Lily?" It didn't take too long before the girl ran outside, with Connor and Eric behind her.

Then Lily saw Octavia's eyes widen too, "Murphy?" she said under her breath.

"I need to bring him inside," Lily said firmly, not slowing down.

"Lily, you can't!" Connor excalimed, his eyes glaring at Murphy, "Bellamy said—"

"I know he's been banished." She argued, not quite believing that they were even having that conversation. "You can't seriously consider leaving him outside. Look at him."

Murphy made a sound between his teeth, and she felt Jake shift on his other side, redistributing the weight without being asked. She was grateful for it.

"Get out of my way, Connor," she said before gesturing Jake to follow her.

The camp was at its evening rhythms — fire, voices, the smell of food — and then it wasn't, because Lily was walking through the middle of it with Murphy between herself and Jake and the voices went quiet and she heard the whispers beginning and she did not stop, did not slow, kept her eyes on the medical tent.

She heard the gasps. She heard her name, twice, in voices that were not calling to her but to each other. But she kept walking.

Inside the tent, the light was steady, and she could finally see him properly. She settled him onto the surface she used for patients, as carefully as she could, and he hissed through his teeth at every shift in position, his hands going out as though looking for something to hold.

"Easy, easy," she said putting her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down. "You're inside. You're safe." Once Murphy seemed to calm down as he layed on his back, Lily took a breath before looking up at Jake.

"Thank you." She said letting out a breath.

He met her eyes. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said, and it did not sound unkind, and then he was gone.

She turned back to Murphy.

Up close and in lamplight, the damage was worse than she had read it in the dark. The cuts were not random — they had a particular deliberateness to them, shallow and numerous, the kind that were about duration rather than depth. Those were not wounds from a fall, it didn't take a doctor to see that. And as she touched his forehead his temperature seemed to be high.

She reached for the cloth and the bowl of water.

When she moved toward his face, his hand shot out and locked around her wrist. She felt him seize it — the grip trembling, but present, real, the grip of someone not entirely sure where they were.

"It's alright," she said quietly, not pulling back. "Murphy, It's alright."

His eyes moved around before he found her face.

"Lily?" His voice was wrong — thicker than it should have been, the consonants working harder than usual.

"Yeah, it's me," she said with a little nod, her hands shaking at seeing how scared he was. "I'm going to clean these wounds, alright?" She watched his grip on her wrist ease, not letting go but releasing pressure. "You're going to be fine, I promise."

She began to work.

He drifted in and out. When she moved from one wound to the next he would sometimes flinch back into alertness — eyes wide, body tensing, the particular animal readiness of someone who had been hurt enough times that their baseline was threat — and she would speak to him quietly until he came back to where she was. She noticed his hands and had to look away for a moment before she could continue. Two nails missing, the skin around them raw and dark with bruising.

What happened to you? She thought with dread. But she didn't dared to ask. He was frightened enough as it was.

The water in the bowl turned red as she worked. There was so much blood that she had to changed it twice.

"You're dying to ask me the question," Murphy said. His voice was clearer than it had been before. When she looked up he was watching her, observing her face closely.

"You should be resting," she said as she kept cleaning his wounds.

She looked up at him. A shaky breath moved through her before she could stop it. She thought about the last time that she had saw him. The mob, and then Charlotte, and Bellamy hit him and left him in the woods. She didn't want for him to be left there, and now, seeing all those wounds, she felt her eyes water once again, and her lips twitch. But she did all she could to not cry.

"What happened?" she finally asked, despite herself.

The silence lasted long enough that she thought he wouldn't answer.

"The Grounders," he said and Lily looked up at him. "They took me to their camp." His voice was flat and careful in the way voices got when the thing they were describing was too large to look at directly.

"They did this to you..." she said. The words came out as a whisper.

He didn't answer. But he held her gaze, and she held his, and in the space between them was everything that didn't need to be said about what that meant.

The tent flap moved.

Connor came through first, and then Eric, and before Lily could say anything they had already moved past her and grabbed Murphy by the arms, hauling him upright. Murphy hissed sharply in pain.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lily was on her feet immediately. "Let him go!"

Connor's eyes found hers and held them with a hardness she had not seen directed at her before. "He's a danger to us all." He didn't loosen his grip on Murphy. "We'll take him to the dropship, where we can keep an eye on him."

"Connor, you can't do this!" She stepped forward.

"You couldn't take him back to camp, Lily." His gaze was flat and unyielding. They stared at each other across the small space of the tent, Murphy between Connor and Eric, his face tight with pain he was trying not to show.

"He still needs medication," she said, her eyes never moving from Connor. "His got fever—"

"He'll survive." Connor nodded to Eric and they began to move toward the entrance.

"Lily..."

Murphy's voice made something tighten in her chest. He was looking at her from between them and Lily made some steps following them. Before they took him out of the tent.

Lily bit her lips, just before she threw the cloth in her hands on the ground.

Chapter Text

The medical tent was quieter after they took Murphy away, but the quiet had a different quality than peace. Lily stood in the middle of it with the damp cloth still on the floor where she throw it and the bowl of red water on the table beside her, and she listened to the sounds of the camp settling back into its evening rhythms — the fire, the voices, the ordinary sounds that had no idea what had just happened — and she felt the anger sitting in her chest like something with edges.

She was not going to stand here.

She turned and started gathering what she needed; the clean cloths, the tincture of thyme, the fever infusion she had prepared two days ago. She packed them into her bag with hands that moved faster than they needed to, and she told herself she was not shaking, and she was mostly right.

He was taken by Grounders. They did that to him. She had said it to Connor and he had looked at her like it didn't change anything, like the fact of what had been done to Murphy was simply irrelevant to the question of whether he deserved to be tied to a ladder on the floor of the dropship with a fever and nobody checking on him through the night.

She picked up her bag and walked out.

The majority of people in camp had went to bed, like they usually did, but she could see that people were still busy at the dropship. She didn't have to wander to guess what was the reason behind it. But she kept walking and crossed the clearing toward the entrance.

Connor was standing outside it and he saw her coming from ten yards away. She watched his expression close the more steps she made.

"Not again," he said, stepping into her path.

She stopped in front of him with her bag in her hands and her jaw set. "I had not finished with him," she said. "I need to see those wounds."

"I told you." He insisted, "He'll survive."

"You don't know that." She kept her voice level with effort. "He has a fever. He needs his wounds monitored. He needs—"

"He needs to be where we can watch him." Connor did not move. "That's what he needs."

Lily stared at him. She thought about the last two days — about the Exodus ship burning somewhere in the forest, about Clarke trying to run toward it while Bellamy held her back, about lying awake in the tent watching the canvas go from black to grey. She thought about Murphy's face when he had recognized her, that involuntary release she had seen in him when he understood he was not still alone. She thought about his hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Connor?" The words came out full and she did not apologize for them. "Let me through."

"As I said." He crossed his arms. "He can survive."

She felt the anger rise past the point where she had been managing it. "You don't get it," she said. "He was taken by Grounders. They did that to him." She watched his face and saw nothing change. How could he not feel even a little bit of compassion. Of course Murphy was not the best of people, but they had wrongly accused him, attacked him, almost hanged him, and then they had left him to die, and he almost did. How could no one feel anything for that?

"He's one of ours, Connor." She kept saying. "We have to help him."

He took a step towards her, but Lily didn't backed away as he did so. "You're not in charge of this camp, Lily."

Her jaw set as she blinked, "Oh, but you are?"

They stared at each other across the short distance, Connor's jaw working, the sound of the camp going on behind her as if none of this was happening.

Then from inside the dropship came a sound — Murphy, audible even through the metal walls, a groan that had real pain in it, the kind that wasn't manageable.

Lily moved before Connor could say anything, shoving past him with both hands, hard enough to get through, and ignored the protest behind her and pushed through the entrance into the dropship.

The inside was not empty, she realized. She had expected Connor and Eric and perhaps a couple of other guys. But what she found was a dozen people — fifteen, maybe more — standing around the edges, all watching Murphy as if he was in any condition to attack them.

Murphy was on the floor near the base of the iron ladder, his wrists bound to the lowest rung with rope that had not been tied carefully. He was on his side, his body curled slightly inward, trembling in the way she had been watching for all evening. She could see the wounds she had been cleaning, the cuts and bruises she had been trying to address, looking worse against the shadows. And nobody was doing anything.

She stood in the entrance for one full second, looking at the room, looking at the people in it, and felt something in her chest go very tight and very still.

Then she moved toward him.

The crowd parted, because she was walking through it with a directness that left no room for interpretation. She crossed the floor and got down on her knees beside Murphy as soon as she reached him.

"Hey." She kept her voice even, trying to sound calm to not startle. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes found her. She watched the recognition travel through him, and then she watched his shoulders shift — just slightly, just enough. "Could be better," he said, "in all honesty." His voice was still thick, still working harder than it should have been. But he seemed conscious enough. Then her eyes moved to the rope, and the way it was tight against his wrists.

"Alright," she said, reaching for the knife at her belt. "I'll finish tending your wounds. Just... just try not to fall asleep." She opened the blade.

But Connor's hand closed around her wrist, stopping her from moving. "What the hell are you doing?"

She turned and looked at him with an angry glare, bothered by the way other people were looking at her. "I need to tend to his wounds. I'm not leaving him tied up on the ground like an animal." She pulled her arm free. "Let go."

Then a voice from outside made them turn.

"Where is he?"

Bellamy's voice came just before the flap of the tent moved, and then he was through the entrance and moving through the crowd, Clarke behind him and Finn behind her, and the crowd parted faster for him than it had for Lily. His eyes found her immediately — she saw them do it, the quick scan of the room that stopped on her face first, then moved to Murphy.

She watched his expression change.

She had learned to read Bellamy's face in the past months and she knew the look that came before he made a decision he had already committed to. She saw it now, settling over his features like a door closing, and she felt her stomach drop.

"Bellamy." His name came out before she had finished deciding to say it.

He had not looked at her again. His eyes were on Murphy.

"Everyone but Connor and Eric," he said, and his voice was the voice he used when he was not asking. "Out. Now."

The room began to empty around her — the spectators filing toward the entrance, shuffling past Bellamy and Clarke and Finn without making eye contact. Lily did not move. She felt Bellamy's gaze find her again, and she read in it what it was asking, and she shook her head.

"I'm not leaving."

He looked at her hard and she looked back. Lily had nothing to apologize for and he could see that she knew it, and the hardness in his gaze did not move her.

"What happened to him?" he said finally. Not at her. He just wanted someone to answer, and she did.

"He was taken by the Grounders," Lily expalined. "They did this to him."

"We caught him trying to sneak back into camp," Connor added, making Lily glare in his direction.

"I wasn't sneaking." Murphy's voice, flat and tired and not quite strong enough but present. "Lily found me while I was running from the Grounders."

Bellamy turned to her, his eyes sharp. "You brought him here?"

She looked at him and then she looked at Murphy on the floor and then back at Bellamy and she could not quite believe they were having this conversation. "I couldn't leave him outside."

"Why?" Bellamy's word came out hard. "Did you see any Grounders?"

Lily frowned, "What—no, but—"

"Did anyone see Grounders?" He turned to Connor, who shook his head as he glared at Murphy.

"Uh-uh." It was all he said.

Bellamy nodded once. The kind of nod that was a conclusion rather than an agreement. He turned back to Murphy and raised the rifle.

Lily moved.

She was still on her knees when she shifted — forward and sideways at once, putting herself between the rifle and Murphy, her arm out. She heard Murphy make a sound behind her. She looked up at Bellamy down the line of the weapon and she said, "Are you out of your mind? Put that rifle down!"

But Bellamy kept his position, as his jaw tightened, "Move, Lily." That was all he had to say. He was pointing a gun to a wounded boy and herself and that was all he had to say?

Her gaze hardened as she looked at him, "No."

"Move—"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Finn stepped forward and pushed the barrel of the rifle down with both hands, putting himself beside Lily. She felt the air change in the room — Bellamy's eyes going to Finn with that particular cold quality, the calculation happening behind them.

"We knew what would happen if he returned." Bellamy's voice was controlled, which was worse than if it hadn't been. And then he looked back at Lily, that was not about to give up.

"Do you think he's lying?" She kept her eyes on Bellamy's face and tried to find the thing she knew was in there — the thing that had breathed with her in the dark, that had held her face in careful hands. "Bell, look at him. He couldn't have done this to himself." He didn't answer just observed her.

"And if he was with the Grounders," Finn added, "then he knows things that can help us."

"Help us?" The word had a bitter quality in Bellamy's voice. "We hanged him. We banished him. And now we're gonna kill him." He looked between her and Finn, and then he raised the rifle again. "Get the hell out of my way. Both of you."

Lily's jaw set not moving an inch. "No."

She held his gaze as he looked at her and for some moments the room was very quiet. Lily knew he would not have shoot her, at least of this she could be sure. It was Clarke that broke the silence.

"They're right." She said and Lily turned to see her crouching beside Murphy, her fingers moving over his wounds with the practiced assessment Lily recognized.

"Like hell they are!" Bellamy argued, "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

Clarke looked up at Bellamy. "What happened to Charlotte was as much our fault as his." She pressed her fingers carefully to the skin around one of the deeper cuts, and her expression confirmed what Lily already knew. "He's not lying. His fingernails were torn off."

The silence that followed was the kind that had weight.

"They tortured him, Bell." Lily said it quietly. She watched his face for the thing she had seen pass through it in other moments — the places where his certainty cracked around the edges — and she thought she saw something, for just a second, in the particular stillness that came over him at her words.

"You and the Grounders should compare notes," Finn said.

Lily closed her eyes briefly. "Finn—"

But Bellamy had already closed back up, the moment gone, his expression hardening in the way it did when something had gotten too close and he was putting distance between himself and it. "The Grounders know we’re at war," he said and then he turned to Murphy like he had already made a decision and was not interested in revisiting it. "What did you tell them about us?"

Murphy was quiet for a moment. Lily turned to look at him — the trembling in his limbs, the effort it cost him to simply stay upright, the way his lips pressed together before he answered. When he spoke, his voice was flat.

"Everything."

Lily closed her eyes. She heard the word land in the room and felt the weight of it, the practical danger of it, and she understood why Bellamy's jaw was set and why Clarke's expression had gone careful and calculating. She understood all of it. She could not bring herself to blame Murphy for a single syllable of it.

Clarke stood. She crossed to Bellamy with that purposeful walk she had when she was managing something. "Once he's better, find out what he knows, then he's out of here." Lily heard her say directly to Bellamy and before she could stop herself, she got up to get closer to the two.

"What?" She looked between Clarke and Bellamy. "Clarke, after what's happened to him — you want to send him off on his own again?"

"He’s leaving, Lily. Like we decided." Bellamy was the one who spoke, and from his tone she knew that he didn't want any argument about it.

But Lily did not back away, "That was before we knew the Grounders would actually—" She stopped as she observed the both of them, they truly had no seconf thought about it?

"You can't do this." She insited, "You can't just—"

"I’m sorry, Lily," Clarke said, her tone kind but firm. "He can’t stay." And then she moved towards the exit of the dropship.

"And if he refuses to leave?" Bellamy said to Clarke, making her stop on her tracks and turn to them. "What do we do then?"

Clarke's answer was quiet and final and Lily felt it land somewhere in her chest like a stone. "Then we kill him." She walked toward the entrance without looking back.

Lily stared at the space Clarke had just occupied. She turned to Bellamy and looked at him for a long moment — at the set of his jaw, at the rifle, at the particular quality of his stillness — and she spoke, very quietly, "Careful not to enjoy it too much."

She moved back toward Murphy.

"Hey." Bellamy's hand closed around her arm. She turned. His face was close and his eyes were doing several things at once. "I need to talk to you."

"You might be eager to see him dead," she said, "but I'm not." She pulled her arm free with a steadiness she had to concentrate to maintain. "Once I'm done with Murphy, I'll come find you. Alright?"

She heard the sound he made — somewhere between a scoff and a breath — and then she heard his footsteps toward the exit, and then he was gone.

She waited until she was sure he wasn't coming back. Then she knelt beside Murphy and reached for the rope with her knife.

Her hands were not entirely steady. She noticed this and said nothing about it. She sawed through the rope with the particular focus of someone who needed to be doing something specific, and when the last of it fell away she heard Murphy let out a long breath that he had probably been holding for a while.

She reached into her bag.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

She felt her lips move — not quite a smile, not quite anything. She thought about what she wanted to say. She thought about Murphy at the dropship entrance, the way he had said her name twice while Connor and Eric were taking him out. She thought about what she had said to him in the forest three months ago when she gave him a strip of cloth and told him she was sorry.

"We should never have left you alone. No one should be alone," she admitted without trying to cover her saddness. Then she reached for his face with the cloth soaked in thyme. "Now relax. Let me clean your wounds."

She worked in silence, retracing the ground she had covered earlier in better light, checking for the things she had not been able to fully assess. The firelight was worse than the lamp in the medical tent. She adjusted.

"Have you become a doctor while I was gone?" he said, after a while.

The breath that came out of her was almost a laugh. "Something like that. Clarke's way more skilled than I am. I'm sticking to the basics." She moved to his hands and paused, frowning at the damage that the earlier cleaning had not fully addressed. "How long—" She stopped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask."

He was quiet for a moment. "Three days," he said. "They tortured me for three days."

"I'm so sorry." She said it, meaning every word.

He turned his head and looked at her with an expression she had seen on him before and never quite known what to do with. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" She frowned up at him.

"You should hate me." His voice was flat as he looked at her. "Like all of them. What are you trying to prove?" She observed him in silence for a moment before moving so that she could look at him better.

"What are you trying to prove?" she asked. But there was no harshness her voice. She was genuinely interested to know that.

He made a sound — pain, or something adjacent to it — and looked away. "Nobody does anything for nothing."

She was quiet for a moment. She thought about Bellamy saying the same thing to her once, under different circumstances, with that same flat certainty. The Ark had done that. The Ark had taken children and taught them that care had conditions and generosity was a transaction and you always, always looked for the cost before you accepted anything.

"My mother was a teacher," she said as she took his hand to clean his fingers. He turned to look at her with a little frown as she spoke. "She always believed that kindness was the most important thing. Kindness, compassion. That was what she taught me."

"And yet you're a criminal." He said not keeping his eyes away from her.

"I stole medicine for a person I deeply cared about." She watched something move across his face as she said it — a small involuntary thing, a tightening, and she filed it away without pressing on it. So she continued.

"I don't do things because I need something in return, Murphy. I just believe in some things, and I try to stick to them as much as possible." She met his eyes. "Even when it's difficult. Even when the people around me make it very difficult."

He looked at her for a long moment. His eyes were bright in the torchlight — she told herself it was the fever, the exhaustion, the particular quality of what he had been through. She did not press on that either.

"Did you save them?" Murphy asked after a moment, making her look at him. "The person you stole the medicines for." Lily felt her eyes fill with tears thinking about Grace. The lump in her throat got tight everytime she though of her. And the only thing she could do was shake her head.

"You should lay down," It was the last thing she said to him that night. But she did not leave.

She had told herself she would check on him every hour. She had not managed to leave for more than twenty minutes at a stretch. The dropship floor was not comfortable and the light was bad and she was running on the particular wired exhaustion of too many consecutive difficult days, but she stayed because the fever had not broken and because every time she got up to go, she thought about what the night would be like if she left and came back in the morning to find it had gotten worse while nobody was watching.

Clarke did not come.

Bellamy did not come.

She had known that this was likely. She was still angry about it. She had spent the better part of the night moving between low-grade anger and a bone-deep tiredness that made the anger difficult to sustain, and what she was left with, somewhere around the third hour, was something quieter and more complicated. She thought about Murphy and about what three days of torture must have meant. She really didn't want to think what it must have been like. She thought about the Grounders' violence, which she had seen in other contexts, and tried not to follow that thought to its end.

Murphy woke suddenly around when the sun had already came up.

She heard him before she saw him — the sharp intake of breath, the scrambling quality of someone coming out of a bad place too fast — and she was up and across the space before she had finished deciding to move.

"Hey, hey." She got her hands on his shoulders, careful, not restraining. She really didn't want to scare him. "It's alright. You're alright."

He was fighting it for a moment — the disorientation, the impulse to move before he knew where he was — and she held steady and kept talking until she felt the tension begin to ease, slowly, the way it did.

His eyes focused on her face.

She saw him find himself, locate the present, put together where he was. She watched the transition from wherever the dream had been to here, and she kept her expression even and her voice calm, and after a moment she felt his breathing begin to slow.

"You've still got fever," she said.

"Yeah, well." His voice was rough with sleep and pain and the aftermath of whatever had woken him. "Lucky enough I feel like shit. I didn't even notice."

"That's comforting," she said.

He looked at her for a moment, she was about to ask him why he was looking at her like that, when suddenly he bent forward and vomited.

She moved without thinking — getting her hand to his back, helping him turn so he could breathe, keeping him from going forward into it — and when she saw it her chest went cold.

Blood.

"Oh my God, your lungs could be compromise. I'll get Clarke." She said just before she started to rise. But then his hand caught hers, making her look at him.

"Wait." Barely audible as he took deep breaths. He turned his head to look at her. His eyes were clearer than they had been all night, which struck her as strange and not entirely reassuring. "Thank you."

She felt her expression do something she didn't fully control. She thought about all the versions of this she had not said, all the ways she had been trying to say it since she found him in the undergrowth outside the wall with his face a map of what the Grounders had done. "Lie down on your side," she said. "I'll call Clarke."

And she went out into the camp.

The people were already moving and going on with their usual activities and duties for the day. She looked around for Clarke and did not immediately find her, and she was crossing toward the tents when she heard Bellamy's voice.

"Can you talk now?" She could hear the wish he had to provoke her, exactly like he used to do when they met. But she had no time for that.

Lily let out a breath and kept walking. "Not now, I need to find Clarke."

His hand suddenly closed around her ar,m making her turn.

"What the hell are you thinking?" He looked like he had not slept, which she could have told him before she left the previous night. His eyes were tired, but she could see the anger in them. But she did not let this make her back away.

"I'm just trying to help him." She said firmly.

"Why?" He asked seeming genuinely confused, and almost betraied as he looked at her. "You know what he did."

Lily's jaw clached at that, "I know what we did as well." She still remembered the mod, the way they had attacked Murphy, how they had hanged him and then they had left him alone in the woods to die. They were not better than him.

"He brought this on himself." He said in an angry hiss.

She shook her head slowly. "Not enough to deserve this." He made a sound in between frustrated and dismissive and looked away with a humorless chuckle.

"You know what I think about all of this." She waited until he looked back at her. "I never wanted Charlotte to die. But I also didn't want Murphy left alone in the woods. And I was right! He was tortured, Bell!"

"Stop trying to save everyone, Lily!" He said raising his voice, enough for some people to turn to them.

"I can't believe you right now." She said it quietly, which she knew was worse than if she had said it loudly. His eyes widened as she saw them glisten under the sun.

"What would you have me do?" He spread his hands. "Let him back in and trust him? Wait for him to riot again?"

"I'm not talking about trust." She said with a shake of her head, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'm talking about the fact that we are a community, Bell. We shouldn't—"

She saw his eyes widen suddenly. "What's that?" His voice changed. His hands came up — careful, the way they always were around the bruises, around the places where she might be tender — and he turned her face gently toward the light. "Lily. There's blood."

She frowned. "What?"

Her fingers went to her cheek. She pulled them away and looked at them — the smear across her fingers, dark and wrong. Murphy had vomited blood. What if it was not the lungs? What if it was something else.

She touched her face again, getting her fingers dirty with more blood.

"Oh my God." She stepped back from Bellamy, gently pushing his chest so that she could get free from his touch. "You have to stay back."

Bellamy's eyes widened at her request. "What? No—"

But before she could say anything, she saw Connor start to caugh just a few feet from them. She could see blood coming out of his mouth. And then another, her eyes widened when she recognized Eric. And then she heard someone vomiting.

Jake... she though as soon as she saw him.

The three of them, Lily herself, they were all people that had something in common. And when she heard the flap of another tent move and saw Clarke walking out with blood stains on her cheeks that was just the confermation.

"Oh my God," she whispered, "Murphy..."

Then her and Clarke looked at each other across the clearing. From her expression Lily could tell that the girl had come to her same conclusion.

They moved toward the dropship at the same time.

"Lily!" Bellamy called her, but she turned her head without stopping.

"Stay here, Bell." Her voice came out shakey as she looked at him. "Please, just stay here."

She did not wait to see if he listened as she entered the dropship.

Inside Murphy was where she had left him, on his side as she had told him, but he had moved — struggling upright or trying to, his arms shaking with the effort. He was vomiting blood again when they came through the entrance, and Lily was beside him before Clarke had finished crossing the floor.

"Murphy." Clarke's voice was softer than Lily had heard her use with him before. She crouched in front of him and waited until he had finished, until his breathing had settled slightly, until his eyes came up to her face. "Look at me." He did. "I need you to tell me how you escaped from the Grounders."

He was quiet for a moment. His breathing was labored, the blood still at the corner of his mouth, his hands pressed flat against the floor as though testing its reality. Then he spoke.

"I don't know." He looked between Clarke and Lily. "I woke up and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there." He paused, breathing. "So I took off."

Lily closed her eyes.

She heard the silence that followed. They were both trying to process what that all meant.

Clarke said it instead, barely audible. "They let you go."

They looked at each other over Murphy's head. Lily thought about the bridge — the Grounder commander with her skull-masked riders, the arrows from the tree line, Jasper firing first. She thought about what followed. She thought about every hand that had touched Murphy in the past three days, every hour he had spent in the Grounder camp.

"They don't use just poison," Lily said as she looked at Clarke.

She recognized the footsteps coming from outside immediately.

Bellamy, she thought.

And then he was through the entrance, his eyes going immediately to her, wide in a way she did not often see.

"Bell, you have to get out of here." Lily said as soon as she saw him.

"What the hell is going on?" He stepped forward and she watched him take in the scene — Murphy, Clarke, the blood, the quality of the light on all of it — and she watched his expression do several things in rapid succession before settling into something focused and afraid.

Clarke turned to him, but she didn't got up. "Biological warfare," she explained, and Bellamy moved his eyes towards Lily.

The words sat in the dim space of the dropship, and outside the camp went on with its morning sounds, and Lily looked at Bellamy's face as he took in what Clarke had said — the widening of his eyes, the slow shift of his gaze from Clarke to Lily, the fear that she saw there clearly because she knew how to read it now. He looked at her the way he looked at her when something had gone beyond what he had prepared for, when the thing he was facing was bigger than his ability to put himself between it and the people he was trying to protect.

Clarke's voice was steady and quiet and final. "You waited for the Grounders to retaliate for the bridge?" Bellamy said nothing, he just nodded. "This is it." She looked at Murphy, then at Lily, then back at the door where the morning light was coming in. "Murphy's the weapon."

Chapter Text

Clarke's words hung in the air after she had said them.

Murphy's the weapon.

Lily stood very still and let herself understand what that meant. She had read about it once, in the Ark's archives — pages about the old world, about wars fought with disease instead of blades, about armies that had sent sick men through enemy lines on purpose. She had read it the way you read about things that happened in another time entirely, things too distant and too strange to feel like anything more than history.

It didn't feel like history now.

She looked at Murphy on the floor — trembling, his face marked by three days of deliberate damage — and she thought: they built this. Every wound. Every hour they kept him. And when they had finished, they had opened the door.

And she had brought him in.

She had pushed past Connor. She had put his arm over her shoulders. She had walked him through the wall and through the camp and into the dropship, past everyone who had been standing between the gate and this room.

Lily pressed her fingers flat against her thighs.

"Is this your revenge?" Bellamy's voice cut through the silence — hard, directed at Murphy, who was still on the floor with Clarke crouched beside him. "Helping the Grounders kill us all?"

"I didn't know about this," Murphy shook his head, his voice trembling. "I swear."

"Stop lying!" Bellamy took a step forward. "When are they coming?"

Clarke's voice came steadier, quieter. "Murphy. Think, all right?" She kept checking his wounds while she spoke, her hands not stopping. "What can you tell us that's useful? Did you hear anything?"

Lily watched Murphy's face. She thought about the Grounders — about what little she knew of them. They spoke English, both Lilcoln and the commander of the bridge had proved that. But they had their own language too, the one they used among themselves. If Murphy was telling the truth, and she believed he was, they would never have spoken their plans in front of him. They would have used their own tongue, kept him deaf to it on purpose. Whatever he had heard would have been nothing they wanted him to carry back.

Murphy looked at Clarke with wet eyes. Still trembling, he shook his head. "They are vicious," he said. "And cruel."

Bellamy let out a sharp breath and turned back to Murphy.

"You wanna see 'vicious'?"

"Bellamy, stop." Lily stood, and he turned to her with wide eyes.

"Why do you keep defending him?" Anger in his voice, and underneath it something that moved faster than anger. "Look what he has done!"

"It was the Grounders, Bell." She kept her voice level, trying not to make it tremble. "They took him, tortured him, and then freed him." She held his eyes. "It's not his fault if the virus is in the camp..."

They looked at each other. She had learned Bellamy's silences by now. This one was not the silence of someone who had nothing to say. It was the silence of someone holding too many things at once, trying to decide which one to put down first. She could see it in the set of his jaw, in the way his eyes stayed on her face with an intensity that had nothing to do with anger anymore, or not only anger. There was something else underneath it. But she didn't want to know if it was fear or anger.

"We have to be careful." Clarke's voice broke the silence. "Whatever this is, it spreads through contact."

Lily took a step back without deciding to. Her body making the choice before her mind named it, as her eyes stayed on Bellamy.

"Clarke!"

Finn's voice arrived a second before he did, coming through with that urgency.

"Finn, you shouldn't be here." Clarke turned, concern clear in her face. "No one should."

"I heard you were sick," he said, and Bellamy's eyes moved to Lily.

"Yeah." Something in his voice had gone flat. "She's not the only one."

Lily looked away. She bit down on her bottom lip and held it there. Behind them, Jake coughed — deep and wrong, the sound she had been learning to dread all night. Bellamy frowned at him, then looked back at Lily with a little frown.

"Clarke, what is this?" Finn asked.

"I don't know." Clarke moved to check on Jake, then straightened. "Some kind of hemorrhagic fever."

"There's something we can do about it?" Bellamy asked, and his eyes went to Lily.

She thought about what she had. Yarrow — it helped slow external bleeding, she had used it enough times to trust that. Willow bark to bring the fever down, to give the body some relief from the heat that was burning through them. Charcoal, if she could find enough of the right kind, to absorb whatever the body was trying to expel. Plantain, which she had used for infection and inflammation ever since Jasper.

But she knew, with the same certainty she knew the names of the plants, that none of it was a cure. She could not cure this. There was nothing in the forest that cured this. What she could do was slow it, and try to keep them from drowning in their own bodies before something changed.

"There are things I can do," she said carefully. "To slow the bleeding. To bring the fever down." She paused, and made herself say the rest of it. "But I can't stop it, Bell. Not with what I have here. The most important thing right now is water — clean water, as much as they'll take. Whatever this takes from them, we have to put back."

Clarke thought about what she had just said, "So we can just contain it for now, before—"

The sound Eric made stopped everything.

The cough became something else entirely — his whole body seizing with it, going sideways, limbs moving without control. Lily watched with her hands pressed together, her mind going very fast and finding nothing to hold. There was nowhere to act. There was nothing she had that would stop this.

Eric pushed himself upright. Then he vomited blood.

The sound that followed had no name she knew. And then his body went still.

The room held its breath.

She could not move.

She watched Clarke cross to him, telling Finn not to touch her as he attempted to. Then Lily watched Clarke press two fingers to the side of Eric's throat, and she already knew. She had known from the moment the convulsions stopped.

This is what it does, the thought arrived without asking permission and stayed. This is what I brought in.

"Clarke," she whispered.

Clarke raised her head.

"Is he—?" Bellamy said.

"He's dead." Clarke stood and turned and looked at Lily.

Bellamy turned to her too.

Lily held his gaze. She did not look away, because she thought that if she did something in her would not come back from it. She felt the full weight of it arrive.

She had brought Murphy in because she could not leave him outside. She had been right. She still believed she had done the right thing.

And yet boy was dead on the floor.

"What do we do?" Finn asked, his hands freshly wet from the alcohol he'd poured over them.

"Quarantine." Clarke's voice steadied into command. "Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here." Finn nodded and moved for the exit.

"And everyone they had contact with?" Bellamy asked. He didn't sound certain about the plan.

"We have to start somewhere." Clarke turned to Lily. "Lily. Who was with you when you brought Murphy back?"

She knew the answer. She had known it since she had walked in and found Connor and Eric already on the floor.

"Octavia," she said. She closed her eyes. "She was with Eric and Connor when Jake and I brought him back."

When she opened them she found Bellamy's face.

She watched it move through fear first. Then the thing that lived underneath fear in him, harder and older, the thing that had always been there when it came to his sister.

"I'll go get her," he said, with jaw set.

Lily let out a shakey breath in seeing him move away. "Bell—"

He looked at her. She had wanted to say something enough, something that could hold the weight of what she had done, but there was nothing like that and he could see that she knew it. His eyes said more than his voice did.

"You have to hope she doesn't get sick because of this." He said quietly, as his eyes glistened under the light that came through the courtains of the dropship.

She felt the tears come without wanting them. He held her gaze for one more second, and then he was through the entrance, and his footsteps crossed the clearing fast, and she heard them until she didn't.

The breath that left her was unsteady. He would have never forgive her for that.

"Lily." Clarke's hand touched her shoulder, brief and warm. "Come on. Help me arrange this place."

They worked without talking much, which Lily was grateful for. She was not ready to talk about all those thoughts that were circling inside her head. She knew she had to helpd Murphy, but now not only Murphy, but the whole camp could get sick. And this sickness was deadly.

She looked at Eric, until two guys decided to bring him outside. Then she looked at Connor and Jake on the floor. And then she saw how many people were starting to be brought inside the dropship.

"The third level will be for who had a contact but don't show any syntomps. "The second for who is having just a fever, and the first--" She stopped as she looked around.

"For who's bleeding," Lily finished for her, with a nod, but her glistening eyes were betray her. "Alright."

They moved the stored supplies against the wall to clear space, laid out blankets and coats in the rows that beds were supposed to make. Lily did what her hands were told and kept her mind on the task in front of her and nowhere else, and it helped the way it always helped — narrowing everything to what was immediate, what was possible, what could still be done.

Lily sent two of the boys who were still standing near the entrance to fetch a barrel from the stores. Then she went to the dropship entrance and called out a list to one of the patrol boys standing nearby.

"Yarrow. All of it that's dried and ready in the medical tent." She kept her voice steady. "The white willow bark infusion — left side of the table, stoppered cloth. Plantain, both dried and fresh if there's any left." She thought for a moment. "And charcoal. From last night's fire, if it's cooled enough — the dark pieces, not the ash." She paused thinking if she had asked for everything. "Clean cloth. More than you think we need. And a second barrel of boiled water, left to cool."

The boy looked at her for a moment, then went.

She went back inside and crossed the floor to Murphy.

He was still propped against the wall where they had left him, trembling less than he had been, which might have been improvement or might have been exhaustion. She checked his forehead — still hot — and reached to take a metal glass of water.

"Make sure to drink, alright?" She asked him, pointing at one of the hammoks they had arranged. "And try to sleep a bit."

"As my nurse say," he said tiredly, and Lily took a breath when she saw him struggling to get on his feet. So she helped, taking him by the arm. They shared a look, as she gave him a nod, before bringing him to lay down.

She was crunched next a girl that was coughing, when she heard the flap of the tent move again.

Bellamy had a cloth pressed to his mouth and nose with one hand, but his other arm stayed close to his sister's back as they moved — not quite touching, but near enough that she could feel him there. And even she seemed annoyed to have been dragged there, he wasn't leaving her side. Lily knew that he wasn't going to leave the dropship until he knew Octavia was safe.

Then Lily turned back to the patient in front of her and helped the girl tip the cup to her lips, to go back to what she was supposed to do. But she kept watching even from there.

"We're done?" Octavia asked.

"No visible signs of swelling or bleeding." Clarke's voice had flattened out over the course of the day, worn smooth by repetition. Lily could hear the exhaustion underneath it, had been hearing it for hours.

Bellamy's hand tightened around the cloth. "So she doesn't have it?"

"She doesn't have symptoms." Clarke looked at him steadily. "But that could change."

Lily's eyes went up to the ceiling without her choosing to, toward the third level where they'd put the ones who'd been exposed but weren't showing anything yet. There were too many of them up there. And more were still coming in — she could see two of Bellamy's patrol boys helping someone through the entrance even now, the boy's arm thrown over one of their shoulders, his head hanging.

Every one of them could already be sick.

"Lily."

James was at the entrance with her bag. She moved toward him, and as she passed Bellamy their eyes met for a moment, and she looked away first.

"Thank you, James. Leave the bag there, so I don't get too close." She waited until he stepped back, then crouched to go through it. Yarrow, dried and bundled. Willow bark infusion, the cloth stopper still tight. Plantain, both dried and fresh. Charcoal in a folded cloth. She was checking the charcoal when Bellamy spoke from just behind her.

"Hey."

His voice was cold in a way that was different from his usual cold. There was distance in it that hadn't been there before, even during their worst arguments. She kept her eyes on the bag.

"Is Octavia alright?" she asked.

"For the moment. Clarke's putting her on level three." A silence that had weight to it. "You need any more of that?"

Lily took a breath. They needed the medicines on the Ark, or at least components that could be more useful. But it was useless to even think about it.

"There's more yarrow still dehydrating in the medical tent," she said, her voice careful and level. "It won't be ready for a while. But it would be great if you could keep an eye on it."

"Alright," she heard him say. She could feel his presence still behind her for some moments, but then he just quietly walked away. When Lily turned, she could only see his back disappearing behind the courtain.

She didn't regreat helping Murphy, but with everything that was happening, she really couldn't handle the way Bellamy was looking at her.

She bit down on her bottom lip and held it there until she was sure it wouldn't tremble. She stood and moved to the table and began working the herbs into the water, keeping her hands busy, keeping her mind on the motions. She had to focus on helping, that was all she needed to think about.

She was still at the table when she caught a movement at the entrance. And she frowned when she noticed Octavia walking out of the dropship.

"Clarke." She turned towards the other girl. "Where's Octavia going?"

Clarke looked up from the patient she was tending, and Lily could see immediately that she already knew. Her expression didn't need to say more than that.

"We need to know what's happening," Clarke said.

Lily let out a breath, "You've sent her to Lincoln." She said, "Clarke, if Bellamy finds out--"

"He's the only one who can help us find a cure. You know that." Clarke's voice was tired in a way that went past the body. "And she's the only one who can convince him to talk."

Lily looked around the room — at Connor on the floor with his jaw clenched, at Jake on his side breathing too shallow, at three others whose names she had learned an hour ago and was already afraid to lose. Two of them were bleeding from the nose. One had his eyes closed so tight it was impossible to tell if he was sleeping or just trying not to be there.

"Let's hope she comes back with some answers," Lily said finally, and turned back to her plants.

The hours after that had no clean edges. She knew time was passing because the light changed through the entrance, and because her body kept adding new things to the inventory of what it was doing without her permission — the ache in her legs had become a burning, the pressure behind her eyes had become a dull throb that sharpened when she moved too fast, and once when she stood from a crouch the room swam gently before it righted itself. She didn't stop. She brought water and changed cloth and crouched and stood and crouched again, and Clarke moved through the room doing the same things from a different angle, and sometimes they passed each other and sometimes they worked side by side in silence, and the silence between them held everything that neither of them had enough left to say.

She did not count the ones who were getting worse. She had tried that, early on, and had stopped.

Then the girl in the corner started coughing.

Lily heard it before she turned — the way it changed, the way it deepened into something that had no rhythm left in it, something that belonged more to the body than to the person inside it. She was already moving when the convulsions started, already crossing the floor, already getting her hands under the girl's shoulders to slow the fall. She held her through it, hands steady, voice low, doing the only thing she had, which was to stay and not look away.

She didn't know her name. She had seen her in camp — at the fire, at the wall, passing through the clearing in the mornings — and she had never spoken to her, and now she was holding her on the floor of the dropship and she still didn't know her name.

The girl's body jerked once, hard and final, and then went still.

Lily kept her hands where they were. She breathed. Behind her eyes something pressed very hard, and she felt the heat of it rising, and she pushed it back down because there was no room for it yet, no room until it was over, and it was not over. She heard Clarke behind her, heard her crouch, heard the brief quiet while she checked for a pulse.

"We have to bring her out," Clarke said.

Her voice was doing the thing Lily had watched it do all day — staying level by force alone, staying useful when everything underneath it was not. Clarke stood and her face when she straightened was the face of someone who had decided not to feel anything until later. Lily understood that. She had been doing it herself for hours.

She let herself look at Murphy. He was lying on the hammock with his eyes closed, and she couldn't tell if he was sleeping.

"I'll go tell Bellamy what happened," Clarke said. Then Lily noticed her observe her for a moment. "Do you want me to tell him something?"

Lily looked at her. Clarke's face was careful and quiet and holding more than it was letting out, and of course she knew — it had never really been a secret, even if there had been nothing official about it, nothing named. Though Lily wasn't sure anymore that there would be anything left to name, after this. If she didn't die first.

"I don't think he's going to ask anything about me, Clarke," she said. She kept her voice even, despite the sting in her eyes. "His sister could get sick. Two people have died. Believe me, I don't think I'm any of his concern right now."

Clarke held her gaze for a moment, she could read simpathy behinf that, but Lily wasn't bothered by it. Then Clarke touched her arm just before heading out of the dropship.

She felt her lip tremble, as she looked around herself, but then as she could feel a tear run down her cheek, she quickly dried it, and get back to work.

When she heard Connor caughing, the girl went to the barrel of clean water and dip one of the cups in it, to fill it. Then she turned and knelt beside Connor.

"You have to drink," she said.

He knocked the cup from her hands. The water spread across the floor in a dark stain.

"I don't need anything from you," he said. His voice was rough and mean with fever. "This is all your fault."

Lily's jaw clanched at those words, but she kept looking at him. "Can you stand up and take it yourself?" He groan, but he didn't need to talk, by only look at him it was easy to guess the answer. So she faught against the fatique in her own legs to go back to the barrel and take some more water.

"Then take it," she said once she was back, "and stay hydrated." This time he didn't refuse, even if he clearly wasn't appreciating her help.

She moved toward the next person, and then Jake made the sound she had come to recognize, and she was there before she had finished deciding to go. She got her hands on his shoulders and held him through it, and when it stopped she helped him settle and straightened slowly, and pressed the back of her wrist to her eyes.

God.

"You should sit down." Murphy's voice, from somewhere behind her.

"I can't," she said, before noticing him standing up. "What are you doing? Lie down."

"Commanding, aren't we?" He said, but he didn't do as she said. But she saw him hold his side as he followed her towards the barrel. She was almost there when she felt again; the room moving a half-second after her, lagging slightly, the way it had been doing for the past hour whenever she changed direction. She was telling herself it was tiredness. She had been telling herself that for a while now. It was happening more and more as the hour passed.

"You still sure you don't regret it?" Murphy said. He was somewhere behind her now, closer than before. "Helping me."

Her hands clenched at the barrel, closing her eyes to try and get her balance back. "Stop it, Murphy. Please." She really didn't want to talk about it. Because she didn't have a clear answer. And she asked herself what her mother would have done. And then she found herself asking what Marcus would have done. The anwers where both so different that didn't help her at all.

"Just asking." He said still behind her.

"I helped you," she said, turning to him, "and now I'm trying to help them. That's all that matters."

She noticed a frown appear on his face as he observed her face. "And who's going to help you?" He asked.

That managed only to confuse her, "What?"

"Your eyes," he said, his eyes never leaving her. "They're bleeding again."

She felt it in the same moment he said it — the thing she had been calling tiredness naming itself at last, the pressure behind her eyes announcing what it actually was — and her body, which had been managing this all day through sheer insistence, decided it was finished being managed. Her legs went wrong beneath her, and the floor came up, and she heard herself make a sound she didn't recognize.

"Woah, woah—" he reached her, his arm going around her waist, but he didn't have the strenght to keep her up, so he only managed to guide her onto the floor. Her hands on his shoulders, as her knees touched the iron of the dropship. He was knelt in front of her, still not letting her go. And he was the only steady thing in the room, that kept turning and turning, making her feel dizzy.

"You really need to lie down," he said, his arm unexpectedly steady against her.

But she couldn't, "I have to help." Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. "Two people have already died—"

"Yeah." Something in his voice went quieter. "Let's not make it three."

"Murphy—"

"Sweetie." He said making her look up at him. "You need to lay down, and I'm one cough away from dying myself. So, work with me here."

He managed to pull her upward, slow and careful, and she helped as much as her legs allowed, and between them they got her to one of the hammocks. The canvas took her weight and she felt the day come down all at once — every hour of it, every cup and changed cloth and held breath and managed moment. It was heavier than she had known while she was carrying it. Murphy disappeared and came back and held out a cup of water.

She looked up at him. His posture was more upright, and he moved better than before. And his breath did not seem laboured anymore.

"You look much better," she said, as he gave her the metal glass.

His mouth moved. "Are you hitting on me, sweetie?"

She didn't even fight the urge to roll her eyes. "You're definitely feeling better."

"Yeah." He looked at her, and something moved through his face quickly, something she almost caught before it was gone. "I'd like to say the same about you."

"My head feels so dizzy." She heard herself say it and was faintly surprised, because she had been keeping that back for hours.

"You need to sleep." He insisted.

"But I have to—"

"Help, I get it." His voice was dry, but there was no edge in it. "I find that difficult for you to do if you can't even stand up." He looked at her steadily. "I'll wake you if someone gets worse. I promise."

She looked at him for a long moment. She was not especting him to be that helpful, and careful. It was a very different side from the person that she had met when we lend on Earth.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

He was quiet. Something moved through his face, quick and carefully controlled, gone before she could name it. He reached over and adjusted the edge of the hammock.

"Sleep, sweetie," he said, and turned to go.

"Wait—" She put her hand on his shoulder before he could take a step. He looked back at her, and she thought about the last time she had seen him, when they had left him alone, without a chance to prove himself.

"Thank you, John."

He went very still for a moment, his eyes studying every part of her face. But he didn't spoke a word. He just nodded and the he turned away.

It didn't took long for Lily to closed her eyes, and for the sounds of the dropship — the coughing, the low voices, the weight of all of it — to fade into something she was no longer able to hold onto.

And before she even realized it, she was sleeping.

Chapter Text

She woke to the sound of voices and the strange discovery that her body had stopped hurting.

Not entirely — there was still a dull weight in her limbs, and her mouth felt dry and wrong — but the burning that had been climbing her legs all day was gone, and when she moved her arms the air felt like air instead of something she had to push through. She lay still for a moment, not trusting it, and then she sat up and her head stayed where it was supposed to be.

"Here she is," John said, and she looked up to find him crossing the room toward her. He was walking differently than he had been — steadier, carrying himself with less effort, the careful movements of someone testing a body that had stopped fighting them. "You took your own sweet time, sweetie."

"What are you doing up?" she asked.

"Same thing you're about to do." He stopped in front of her and looked at her with that expression she had never quite learned to read. "You feel it too, yeah? How it's different."

She did. She didn't know how to explain it, but something had shifted while she slept — the fever, the weight of the sickness, whatever had been pulling her under — it was still there at the edges but it had lost its grip. "I don't understand how that's possible," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Lily." Octavia's voice came from behind her, and she turned to see the girl coming toward her with a cup of water. "Oh, you're up."

"And you came back," Lily said. "What did Lincoln say?"

Octavia had explained it quickly. Lincoln had told her there was no cure for the fever, but that this particular one was not designed to last. The Grounders had sent Murphy because they were planning to attack the following day. The disease was a weapon meant to weaken the camp overnight, not to kill everyone in it. Not a long illness. A sharp one.

"That's why I feel better?" Lily asked, turning it over in her head. She reached out and pressed her fingers to Murphy's forehead before he could say anything.

"Alright..." he muttered as she touched him.

"No fever." She dropped her hand and looked around the room. In the dim light she could see people sleeping, some of them breathing more easily than they had been before she went under. Some of them still looked bad. Some of them were very still. "Did anyone else—"

"Die?" Murphy guessed.

"Yeah," Octavia said, her voice quiet. "And some more showed symptoms while you were out."

Lily got up from the hammock. Her legs held. "But they're attacking in the morning."

"Bellamy is handling it," Octavia said. "He'll figure something out."

She believed that. Whatever she and Bellamy were right now — whatever had cracked between them over Murphy, over the fever, over all of it — she had never doubted that he would find a way. She just hoped whatever he was planning didn't put him directly in front of an arrow.

"He asked about you," Octavia said, holding out the cup of water.

Lily looked up at her, and she fought the instinct to let her eyes go wide, because she hadn't expected that. She had thought — genuinely thought, lying in that hammock while the hours blurred — that after everything, after two people dying and his sister nearly sick, he would have filed her somewhere past concern. That the anger would have been the whole of it.

"He wanted to know how you were feeling," Octavia said, watching her. A small, knowing expression settled on her face. "Is something going on between you two? Because he looked very ready to come in here when he heard you'd collapsed."

Lily took the cup and drank from it, because it gave her something to do with her face. She felt warmth move through her chest, something quieter and more complicated than happiness, something she didn't know what to do with yet. She had been so sure she had lost it. That the anger had finished it off cleanly. And instead he had stood outside and asked how she was, and that was— that was enough. That was more than enough.

"As much as I love chitchatting," John said from behind her, "there's work to do."

She turned to look at him, frowning slightly. "You're helping?"

"Why so surprised?" He was already moving toward the nearest row of hammocks, picking up one of the cups from the table as he went. "They have to stay hydrated, right?"

Her lips curved up before she could stop them. "Right." She glanced at Octavia, who looked faintly amused, and then they both turned to go back to work.

"Where's Clarke?" Lily asked.

"Sleeping," Octavia said. "She passed out not long after you."

Lily looked across the room to the hammock Murphy had been using — Clarke was there now, her face slack and still, her breathing slow. Lily crossed to her and pressed the back of her hand to Clarke's forehead. Still warm, but not the burning it had been. Not worse.

"I was trying to keep her temperature down," Octavia said, a wet cloth in her hand.

"Keep doing that," Lily said, and Octavia moved to do it. Lily looked at her carefully — at her colour, at the steadiness of her hands, at the absence of the signs she had been watching for all day. No bleeding. No pallor beyond ordinary tiredness. No trembling.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," Octavia said. "Apparently some of us are immune."

It was good news. It was genuinely good news, and Lily held onto it — if there were people who couldn't catch it, then there were people who could move through the room freely, who could carry water and change cloth without risk, who could hold the line while the sick ones fought their way back. It didn't change the ones they had already lost. Nothing changed that.

She wished she had real medicines. The thought came and went — she had been thinking it all day, this particular quiet grief for the equipment she didn't have, the compounds she couldn't synthesize, the things that might actually have shortened this rather than just softened it. She let it pass and reached for the yarrow.

Then someone coughed badly enough that the whole room shifted, and when she turned she saw Connor.

He was down on his side, his body shaking with the effort of it, and Octavia was already calling across the room.

"Murphy. Clarke said to roll him over when it happens."

"I'm on it." He was already moving, crossing the floor with more steadiness than she would have expected from him twenty-four hours ago, crouching beside Connor and getting his hands under the boy's shoulder. "Come on, come on, roll on your side." Connor resisted for a moment, and then didn't. "It's okay," Murphy was saying, lower than his usual voice, "I got you. Try to breathe. Hey — listen to me. You and me are good, all right? Just breathe."

Lily stood very still for a moment, watching him.

Connor had been the one who put the rope around his neck. Connor had been the one screaming loudest for it, his face twisted with the kind of anger that had stopped seeing a person and started seeing something it was allowed to hate. And now Murphy had his hand on Connor's back and was talking him through it in that low, steady voice, and she felt something move in her chest that she didn't try to name.

She hadn't thought he would do that. She hadn't let herself think it, because she hadn't been sure it was possible. And here it was.

She crossed to them and crouched, holding out a cup. "I've brought more water. You sure you've got him?"

Murphy took the cup without looking up. "I got this. Don't worry."

She touched his shoulder briefly as she stood and moved to the girl lying next to Connor, and she heard Murphy's voice behind her, and Connor's ragged breathing, and then Connor's voice, thin and exhausted and confused.

"I put that rope around your neck," he said. "Why are you helping me?"

There was silence for a moment, but then John answered, "Bygones."

Lily didn't hide the small smile that came, then she kept moving.

For the next hour she worked through the room — water to the ones who could drink, cloth to the ones who were burning, her voice to the ones who were frightened enough to need it. She turned people who were coughing and held them when it became the bad kind and talked them back when it passed. She checked on Clarke twice, who slept on, her temperature falling toward something survivable.

As she looked around, to the new faces that have entered since she had fallen asleep, Lily was glad that she didn't spot Jasper and Monty among them.

Then she heard a groan from the entrance, and something in the sound of it went through her before she had finished processing it, her body already turning, already moving.

Bellamy.

He was being half-carried inside by two of his boys, his arms over their shoulders, his feet finding the floor unevenly. His face was pale, sweat was forming on his forehead and there was blood on his upper lip and down his chin, probably coming from his nose. She was beside him before she knew she had crossed the room.

"Oh my God," she said, and her hands went to his face without asking permission. "Bell."

His eyes found her, and something in them shifted — something that had been braced relaxing very slightly. "Lily," he said.

Her eyes filled with tears. "It's going to be alright, I promise," she said, and she meant it, she would make it true. Behind her she heard Octavia's voice.

"Oh, no. Bell." Quick footsteps. "Clear some space. Lay him down."

Lily kept her hands on his face, her forehead nearly touching his cheek, steadying him while the two boys moved to do what Octavia said. His weight shifted toward her and she took it.

"You alright?" he asked her.

She let out a sound that was almost a laugh and almost a sob, and she was grateful he couldn't tell the difference. She didn't want him to see how frightened she was. "Are you asking me?" she said, and they looked at each other, and she felt him lean into her hands just slightly.

"Here, Lily," Octavia said from beside her.

But before they could move him, Bellamy started coughing.

"Bell—" She was already guiding him down, Octavia on his other side, both of them lowering him as fast as they safely could. He coughed and coughed, his whole body working with it, the sound wet and wrong, and she got her hand under his shoulder and her other hand in his hair. "On the side," Octavia said, and Lily was already doing it, tilting him so the blood in his mouth could come out instead of staying in, and she heard herself talking to him in a low steady voice, "It's alright, I've got you, you're alright," and she couldn't have said when she had started.

When the coughing finally stopped he lay gasping, his chest heaving, his eyes unfocused for a moment before he came back to himself. Octavia was already cleaning his mouth with a cloth, her eyes bright with tears she was not letting fall.

"Hey, big brother," she said.

He looked at her, and then at Lily, and then his eyes filled with tears.

"I'm scared," he admitted in a tired whisper.

She had never heard him say that. Not like this — not plainly, without anything over it, without armour. It was the most unguarded thing she had ever heard him say and it hit her somewhere behind her ribs and stayed there.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," Octavia said, and her voice only cracked a little.

He looked at her for a moment. "That's what I said to you. The day you were born."

"I know," Octavia said softly. "You told me about a thousand times." She looked up at Lily. "You stay with him while I get water?"

Lily nodded, not trusting her voice. She kept her hand in his hair.

"Hi," he said tiredly, when Octavia had gone. His eyes were still wet.

"Hi," she said, and it came out soft and unsteady. "You're going to be up in no time. I'll make sure of it." She reached for his hand and he took it, his fingers closing around hers. She felt the tears slide down her own cheeks and didn't try to stop them. "I'm sorry, Bell," she whispered.

He shook his head slowly. "No." His voice was quiet and there was no harshness in it at all. "I know you'd do it again. That's who you are." His hand tightened around hers, and she smiled despite the tears, the two of them looking at each other in the dim light. "I'm glad you're alright," he said.

She almost lost it completely then. She had watched people die from this fever. She had watched them shake and go still, and she had held some of them when it happened, and she could not — she was not going to let him be one of them. "Try to rest," she said, steadying her voice as much as she could. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

He nodded, and his eyes closed, and she sat with her hand in his until his breathing slowed and evened out into sleep. It didn't take long. She knew that kind of exhaustion from the inside now. She watched the rise and fall of his chest until she was sure it was steady, and then, with a last touch to his hair, she let go of his hand and went back to work.

For the next two hours she moved through the room with Octavia and Murphy beside her. She brewed another batch of yarrow tea when the first ran out and pressed cups on everyone conscious enough to hold one. She turned people who were coughing and changed cloths and brought water until her arms ached with it. Every so often she passed where Bellamy lay and looked — breathing even, face still, the rise and fall of his chest steady. Each time it was steady and relieved Lily kept working.

She was passing Clarke's hammock when she noticed the girl stirring. She put her hand out to slow her down.

"Hey. Not too quickly." She said as Clarke blinked her eyes, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a tree," she said letting out a breath.

"I know what you mean." Lily pressed her hand to Clarke's forehead. The fever had dropped. Not gone, but cooler than before, heading somewhere survivable. "You should lie down a while longer."

"How are things going?" Clarke asked after a moment.

Lily's eyes moved across the room to Bellamy. "More people got sick while we were both out. And some had died too." She kept her voice steady, she needed to stay focused. "But don't worry about that right now. Rest some more. Octavia and Murphy are handle everything very well." She nodded toward the two of them moving through the rows, crouching when someone needed them.

"Murphy's helping?" Clarke asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah." Lily nodded. "And he's very committed to it."

"Do you trust him?" Clarke asked. Her voice was still tired, stripped down to its plainest version.

Lily thought about it honestly for a moment. "I don't think it's a matter of trust," she said. "He could have not cared at all. But he's helping." She briefly looked to where John was, then she turned to Clarke again. "I don't know what to call it. But I think it means something."

Clarke looked at her for a moment, probably thinking about what Lily had told her, but she didn't answer.

"Now rest," Lily said. "Peter brought more yarrow — I'm going to make another batch of tea."

She turned and looked at John across the room, and let herself think about what she had just said to Clarke. She knew that Marcus Kane would have sent him away the moment his usefulness ended — would have called it order, called it safety, dressed it in the language of what was necessary for the greater good. The same language the Ark had always used for the things it did to people. And sending Murphy away was that, in another shape. A slow execution instead of a quick one. A few days alone before the Grounders found him again, and she didn't think he'd survive a third time. She had never believed in those punishments. She still didn't, and she didn't think she ever would, no matter how much the world down here tried to make them seem like the only available answer.

She went back to the herbs and the water, and the work filled her hands, and after a while it filled her mind too, and she stopped thinking and just worked, and at some point the room went quiet around her and she didn't notice, and at some point after that she stopped noticing anything at all.

She woke to a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently.

"Lily."

She jolted upright, and turned, and found Bellamy standing over her.

"Bell." She was up and her hands were on his arms before she had fully arrived in the moment. "You shouldn't be up."

"I feel better," he said.

She looked at him. His colour was still wrong, still carrying the grey of someone who had given more than they should. There was blood at his upper lip again, dried while he slept. And then she saw a drop of fresh blood coming form his nose. Lily reached for one of the cloth strips Murphy had torn from an old blanket and held it out, and he took it and pressed it to his nose.

"Why are you up?" she asked observing him. He was supposed to rest.

"Clarke's gathering everyone inside," he said glancing at the exit of the dropship. "It's almost dawn. The Grounders are coming, and we're safer in here."

"Octavia said you had a plan."

"Finn and Jasper are handling it." She could already hear it in his voice — the leader coming back, that forward-facing steadiness that refused to wait for permission even now, even half-recovered and bleeding. "But you never know."

"You're not going to rest, are you?" she said, even if it didn't sound much of a question.

He let out a breath instead of answering, and she had her answer. She turned to the yarrow tea and poured a cup and held it out. "Don't just drink water. Drink this too. It'll help with the bleeding."

He took it, and she expected him to move away, but he didn't. He looked at her.

"I thought you'd be angry," he said.

She looked up at him. "It wouldn't stop you," she said quietly. "That's who you are." Something passed between them — not quite a smile, not quite the resolution of anything, but something that held both and chose not to end in the hard place. "But if you feel tired," she added, "please, sit down. All right?"

He nodded, "All right." Then he reached over and moved a strand of hair from her face, slow and careful, his eyes observing her face closely. And then, without say anything else, he turned toward the entrance to go back to his work.

She stood still for a moment, her hand rising without thinking to the place where his had been.

It wasn't long before the first people began coming in — cloths pressed over their mouths and noses, eyes moving fast through the room, making space for the ones behind them. But then suddenly the sound came.

It moved through the ground before it moved through the air, deep and percussive, felt in the soles of her feet before she heard it.

Lily walked out of the dropship, shielding her eyes form the light as she step out. And she found the whole camp funnelling toward the dropship, Bellamy and Clarke at the entrance directing the flow, the sky above the trees going pale at the very edges with the first light of dawn.

But on the east, the treeline was lighten up — a dark column of smoke rising fast and thick above the canopy, grey shot through with orange, still burning. And everyone was looking at it.

"They did it," she heard Bellamy say.

She looked at his face as he watched the smoke climb, and she thought about Finn and Jasper somewhere out there in the trees with whatever plan they had found, and the smoke kept rising, steady and unhurried, into the pale sky.

They were safe. For now, at least, they were safe.