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Clarke sat in the corner of the dark prison cell, back to the wall and knees clutched to her chest as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Bellamy wasn’t dead. He was alive, and the moment she’d seen him (no matter how dirty he was and the awful smell attached to him) it was like something in her soul had fixed itself. She hadn’t let him down; he was still here. He was covered in ice and his hair and beard were overgrown and his fingers were black with frostbite but he was here.
She had known something wasn’t right when she wrapped her arms around him and he had barely reacted – Bellamy usually hugged hard, almost crushing the receiver in his arms. She had chalked it down to the fact that he had clearly been stuck somewhere horrific for an indeterminate number of months. Hell, she knew exactly how hard it was to experience physical touch after not having any for a long time, she placed no blame on his shoulders. The hug hadn’t mattered – what had mattered had been the words whispered in his ear about the flame, he had to know so that he wouldn’t give anything away that would put him at risk. Making sure Bellamy kept himself safe was the only important thing in that moment.
But then he had turned around and betrayed her. Not just her – he had also betrayed his sister and Echo and every single person he cared about. There had been no hesitation, no regret, just an apparent newfound dedication to Cadogan – well, Bellamy had referred to him as his shepherd.
Bellamy had also spoken of strange golden lights and transcendence and Etherea and a pilgrimage and his mother. None of it made any sense and Clarke didn’t understand. The Bellamy she knew was direct and would rather die than betray the people that he loved, but now he babbled about nonsensical things and had been more than happy to leave three of the most important people in his life to be escorted to the cells, ignoring their shouts and questions.
Clarke wasn’t sure how long she’d been down here, she’d had a few meals shoved through the door at her, so she assumed it had been at least a day. She had tried to sleep but it wasn’t easy, not when there were so many questions and she had no idea what was coming next. She knew that Octavia and Echo were in the cells next to, or at least nearby her - she could hear them shouting when they were first locked up, but now they were silent.
When the door slides open the next time, Clarke is expecting another meal to be thrown in her direction but instead, multiple disciples enter the room, dragging her up from her corner and walking her out the cell. There were six of them in total, two of them in front of her, two behind and then two either side of her, holding her arms. She was surrounded. There was no point in wasting her energy trying to fight them yet, there would be a better time.
They lead her into a bright white room. Cadogan is there, as well as Levitt and other people fully dressed in white that she doesn’t recognise.
And Bellamy.
She almost doesn’t recognise him for a moment. He’s clean shaven, his hair is shorter and he is also dressed in the white uniform. He stands in the corner – no smile on his face. He looks young – more like he did when they first came down to Earth, when the biggest thing they had to worry about was surviving the grounders – no clue of world-destroying fires and body-snatchers and the planet jumping that was to come.
None of her other friends are here. There’s a chair in the centre of the room, it almost looks like one that used to be in the dentist on the Ark – except this one has restraints for arms and legs attached. There’s some kind of device above it. She realises where she is.
“No.” She tries to take a step back, but her arms are still held by two disciples. This can’t happen.
Finally, Cadogan speaks, “Welcome to M-Cap, Clarke.” His voice is cold, any pretences of friendliness or kindness long gone at the knowledge that the flame is not in Clarke’s head and has been destroyed. Nothing of his daughter remains.
Clarke attempts to stay calm, but all she can feel is panic rising up in her at the idea of having strangers walk through her memories again.
She swallows, throat dry. “Why do you need to put me in that? You know I don’t know anything.”
“Well, unfortunately we can’t believe a word you say, Clarke. You’ve done nothing but lie to us since you arrived. We have no choice but to take a look for ourselves.” Cadogan explains condescendingly, flicking his wrist to tell the disciples that it was time to strap her into the chair.
She does fight now, doing anything she can to rip her arms out from where they’re being held and kicking out her legs in a desperate attempt to hit someone holding her. “Please, stop, I don’t know anything I swear,” She screams out, eyes flashing around the room until they land on Bellamy, who is still standing silently in the corner, “Bellamy, please! Don’t let them do this to me, not again. Please. I can’t – Bellamy.”
“Clarke,” his voice is stable, void of the passion it usually holds, “This really is for the best. We need to know how to win the last war. If you just relax and let it happen it won’t even hurt. Listen to the Shepherd.”
“No, Bellamy,” Clarke chokes out, eyes still trained on his, “I can’t just let someone walk around my head, not after last time, I can’t.”
Bellamy opens his mouth to say something but Cadogan cuts him off, “Last time? I assume you’re talking about Josephine Lightbourne? The one who tried to steal your body.”
That knocks the breath out of Clarke for a moment. How does Cadogan know about Josephine? Her focus lands on Bellamy once more. “You told them?” Her voice is small, confused. Her brain still can’t seem to comprehend that this Bellamy is the same as the Bellamy she knew, “What else did you tell them?”
“I told them everything, Clarke,” Bellamy shows no sign of regret, “They need to know as much as they can. This is bigger than us, this is about the last war.”
“Everything?” Clarke’s voice remains small, a different kind of terror forming in her gut as she’s faced with the prospect of Cadogan knowing where the flame went next.
“Yes, everything,” Cadogan sneers gleefully– his voice has a cruel tone, like he’s excited by the prospect of what he’s about to say “Including the fact that dear little Madi had the key in her head, for a lot longer than you did. If we can’t find what we need, we will be sending out a party to retrieve your daughter, and then it will be her turn.”
That’s the moment Clarke stops fighting. Bellamy had told them about Madi. Once again, he had put her daughter in danger, and once again Clarke had no say in it. She goes limp, allowing herself to be manhandled into the chair.
It’s Bellamy that comes to do up the restraints. They’re tight – there’s no way she can get out of them. He lifts a hand to her face and softly brushes a few strands of hair behind her ears before lowering the contraption towards her head. She looks him in the eye, one last ditch attempt to get her out of this, to get him out of this.
“You said you’d protect her Bellamy, and you lied, again. Why do you want to hurt her? Why do you want to hurt me?” Clarke’s voice cracks, out of anger or fear or hurt she isn’t sure.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Clarke, but you need to understand, this is bigger than any single person – more important than any of us. The final war is coming, the war to end all wars, and the Shepherd can guide us through as long as he has the knowledge he needs. It isn’t just about us, Clarke - this is for all mankind. Like I said, it won’t hurt if you let them in, it will all be over soon.” Bellamy’s voice is soft, and would almost be comforting if the words coming out of his mouth actually sounded like his own, but they don’t. They sound fake, artificial and rehearsed. They’re not real.
She doesn’t say another word, just turns her head away from him, wishing her hands were free so that she could wipe away the tear that’s escaped from her eye. Bellamy steps away and Levitt steps forward.
Clarke fights, of course she does. She physically can’t let them into her memories. Everything that happened with Josephine is still so fresh, the idea of letting someone else control her mind again is horrific. She never wanted to feel that helpless ever again, but here she is, barely a week later and ready to have her autonomy taken away from her yet again.
She fights for as long as she can but it hurts. It burns, almost as badly as praimfaya by the time they’ve turned up the dial a few notches. She knows she is screaming and crying and begging, and she knows that Bellamy is just standing and watching.
It’s agony and all she can hear is the repeated words – “You’re alone in a vast, empty desert…”
She doesn’t need to imagine that.
She’s been alone in a vast, empty desert.
She knows exactly what it feels like.
No one comes to save you.
It just hurts.
The heat, the hunger, the exhaustion.
You just want it all to be over.
And then there’s a bird.
-
“Neural link engaged.”
-
Clarke doesn’t know how long she remains in the chair, having her memories ripped apart and examined like they’re just games to play with. She tries her hardest to lead them away from Madi, but she knows she gives them things that they want without meaning to.
It feels like she’s been there for days – weaving in and out of consciousness and lucidity. She’s fed some kind of soup at regular intervals. She thinks Bellamy does it, but she can’t be sure.
They spend the most time on any images of the flame they can find. They replay Lexa’s death and the subsequent removal of it from her body what feels like hundreds of times. They take note of where it is buried on Sanctum, making Clarke relive her grief for mother over and over. They spend hours going over exactly what happened in the tower in Polis, in the City of Light, the pain of the moment it entered her neck replaying again and again.
It all blurs together in the end. It’s all too much.
-
Finally, it stops. The machine is turned off, the headpiece removed. Kind hands undo the restraints and treat her wrists and ankles where she fought so hard that her skin ripped beneath them. She turns her head to see Bellamy. He’s smiling. His mouth is moving but she can’t make out any words. Her head aches. Her body aches. Everything is fuzzy. She tries to move, but her brain doesn’t seem to connect with her body.
What use is the head if it can’t do anything?
Is there any point of the head if the heart is gone?
Clarke is lifted from the chair, arms and legs hanging limply as she is carried like a sleeping child by the person who betrayed her – the person she once trusted more than anyone else. A few weeks ago, he would have moved heaven and earth to save her life – he did. Now, though, he has spent days watching her suffer. His hold on her is still soft, still reverent. She doesn’t understand how he can cause her so much pain and then hold her like he cares about her.
He doesn’t care about her anymore. He only cares about the Shepherd. The last war. For all Mankind.
He carries her into a cell. She isn’t alone this time. There are others here – everybody, she thinks. Octavia, Echo, Raven, Hope, Miller, Niylah, Jordan and Gabriel. Yes, that’s everyone here on Bardo. Things are beginning to make a bit more sense, maybe. All eyes seem to be on her.
She is pulled out of his arms by someone – Miller, and placed softly on one of the mattresses by the wall. Niylah puts a blanket over her. It’s only then that Clarke realises she is shaking.
“What happened to her Bellamy?” That’s Octavia, asking him the question with a terrified undertone to her voice. Hell, if Octavia’s scared then she must really be a state.
“She’ll be okay. She just needs rest. She tried to fight against M-Cap. I told her not to.” Bellamy’s voice is still so stable, like he isn’t standing in a room full of people he used to be the closest to, but has now betrayed in the name of a glorified cult leader.
“You did this to her?” Raven now, accusation clear in her tone. Clarke thinks she hears a shove, but she can’t lift her head to look. Besides, Niylah’s hand running softly through her hair feels really nice.
“She did this to herself. If she hadn’t fought it wouldn’t have hurt.” Bellamy responds, still nothing other than confidence in his voice. Clarke wishes she could think of something to say, but she still doesn’t think her mouth would open if she tried.
“How could you, Bellamy?” Echo’s voice is softer, more broken than Clarke thinks she’s ever heard it, “She’s your best friend, you spent years grieving her on the ring. Even I know how much you love each other. What’s happened to you that you can do this to her?”
“It’s nothing to do with what I feel for anyone, it’s about what’s right. The Shepherd has to know about the key to win the final war. I did what I had to do for all mankind – as did Clarke - as should all of you.”
Everything seems to explode after that, there are multiple voices shouting. Clarke thinks there might be some crying from somewhere but it’s all too much and she can no longer focus on any one sound. She lets her eyes drift shut. She’s so tired – too tired. She needs sleep.
The darkness feels something like peace when it takes over.
-
Clarke doesn’t know how much time has passed when she next opens her eyes, but she is definitely more lucid, and the ache in her head and body has receded somewhat. She rolls over on the mattress and tries to sit up. Miller’s arms are immediately there to help lift her into a sitting position.
Niylah helps her to drink some water, and Jordan passes her some bread which she manages to take a few bites of.
Everyone’s looking at her, eyes all reflecting an emotion which lands somewhere between worry and fear.
Raven breaks the silence, voice betraying the obvious worry she’s feeling.
“How are you feeling?” It’s strange, Raven being worried about her when for a long time all she experienced from the mechanic was anger and insults.
Clarke thinks for a moment before responding, “Okay, maybe. Better, definitely better than I did. I can’t really…remember.” Her voice is croaky, whether that is from lack of use or the screaming she did in M-Cap she isn’t sure.
No one speaks again, but there are definitely charged looks sent around the room. Clarke is awake enough to notice.
“What happened, after I passed out? I remember Bellamy bought me here, right? And you guys were talking to him?” Clarke asks, eyes flitting between the people in the room, and landing on Octavia’s bloody knuckles.
The youngest Blake see’s what she’s looking at, and waves the hand with a shrug “It was just the wall, don’t worry. Bellamy…said some things.”
“His exact words were,” Miller drawls (although Clarke can sense the anger pulsing off of him), “‘Having attachments to one person above another person only leads to pain and suffering for all’. It’s like he’s just blocked out any attachment he had to us and instead is obsessed with Cadogan and this goddamn cult”
“He refused to accept that this wasn’t okay,” Echo explains, waving a hand in Clarke’s direction, “We tried to work out what had happened to change him, but he just kept talking about the mountain and the Shepherd and the final war. He really thinks that he’s doing the right thing. He won’t listen to reason.”
Clarke nods, “Yeah, he does,” She takes another sip of water before continuing, “He told them everything he knows, even about Madi. I don’t know if they got what they wanted from me, but if they didn’t then they’re going after her. Whatever has or hasn’t happened, he isn’t on our side, not anymore.”
There’s a finality to that statement, and it’s obvious that everyone in the room knows that it’s the truth. The Bellamy Blake that came back from Etherea isn’t the same Bellamy they all knew, and there is no way to know whether he ever will be again. The cell is silent for a few minutes, until Clarke breaks the quiet, voice surprisingly strong as she makes her next statement.
“All I know is that we need to get out of here and back to Sanctum. I really don’t think I had any useful knowledge for Cadogan, which means he’ll be going to get Madi. I can’t let that happen. I need to make sure she’s safe,” Clarke's words leave no space for argument or debate, not that anyone plans to do so anyway, "Once Madi is safe, we save Bellamy."