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The dropship shook violently and the seatbelts digging into Clarke’s skin jarred her back into consciousness. She squeezed her eyes, trying to dispel the pounding headache. She looked around the ship, confused why she was there and where the hell she was going. She couldn’t remember how she got here but there was something about this ship that seemed familiar.
Another shake and the sudden jerk brought all her memories rushing back in.
She gasped out loud when she remember the last thing she did. The shocking realisation that in the end, Cadogan was right and transcendence, or whatever it actually turned out to be, really was the key to their survival. It was a small comfort to learn that Jordan was right as well and they didn’t have to wage another war. All they needed was one person to sacrifice themselves and enter the Anomaly.
Clarke didn’t even hesitate. She had nothing left to lose and if her death could save anyone, she did it without a moment’s thought. She went in, pulled the lever and then—
The dropship shook again and the slammed down onto the hard ground. Clarke’s teeth rattled.
Clarke waited a few moments before she decided it was safe to move. She unfastened her seatbelt and fell out of her chair, catching herself on the row in front. She stumbled towards the door and paused with her hand on the release lever. Something terrible squeezed her stomach and stole her breath away. Clarke’s lip trembled when she tightened her grasp on the lever and pulled it.
It was light outside, just like it was the first time they landed only this time, it was quiet. So painfully quiet, without the rest of the delinquents screaming and celebrating their coming to Earth.
She walked off the ramp and moved towards the treeline slowly, as if in a daze. She couldn’t understand what she was doing down here, in the dropship, back on that same day but for some reason, she wasn’t bothered by it as much as she would’ve expected.
“Took you long enough,” she heard someone call from behind here.
Clarke turned around and her knees nearly buckled under her.
“Wells,” she breathed, clasping her hand over her mouth in shock. He was leaning against the dropship wall, casual as ever, with a smirk on his face. When it became clear that she was too shocked to move, Wells pushed himself away from the ship and strolled to her, Clarke’s eyes following his every move. When he was close enough that she could see he was wearing his old football jersey, the same one she’d been teasing him for all throughout school, Clarke burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.
Clarke sobbed into his shoulder for so long she could’ve sworn hours must’ve passed but at the same time, it didn’t quite seem like that. All she knew for sure that Wells’s warm embrace was the first time she felt ever a shred of comfort since—
She swallowed and stiffened in his arms. Wells must’ve felt it because he let go of her and took a step back, so he could look her in the eyes. He smiled down at her, that same smile only he knew how to give and brushed the tears away from her cheeks.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing Clarke’s hand and pulling her gently with him. They reached the end of the clearing and Clarke could see the scenery changing in the corner of her eye. Only when she looked to her side, it stopped every time, like nothing was happening at all. She was so focused on trying to catch it again that she didn’t realise they reached the hatch to the bunker when they found the guns in.
But that couldn’t be right. That bunker was hours away from the dropship and anyway, how could Wells know where that was? Clarke was about to ask him when she noticed someone sitting behind one of the trees. Long legs outstretched in front of him, and Ark guard’s jacket covering his shoulders and a head of dark messy curls resting against the tree trunk.
Clarke choked on air and froze in her steps, yanking on Wells’s hand. He turned to look at her, still smiling. She couldn’t understand how he could do that.
“He’s been sitting there, waiting for you, ever since we realised you were coming,” he explained but Clarke shook her head, trying to clear the confusion.
“We? What are you—what is this place? How does any of this work?”
“I have no idea,” Wells chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “It just does.”
Clarke looked ahead again and a ball lodged in her throat. “I can’t,” she whispered. “After what I did—”
“He wants to see you,” Wells assured her and put his hand on her elbow, squeezing lightly. Clarke tied shaking her head but she couldn’t. She wanted to run away as far as possible but her feet were planted into the ground.
Wells tugged on her arm, a move so small she barely even felt it but somehow, it was enough. She took one step forward and then another until she reached the tree and saw his face. And she nearly crumbled to the ground.
***
Strong arms held her up, as they always did, before she fell into pieces.
Clarke felt his warm, rough hands against the skin on her forearms and started struggling against Bellamy’s embrace. He let go of her immediately but didn’t move away. They were both kneeling on the ground, inches away from each other and Clarke forced herself to move away, away from his warmth and the safety of his arms.
“Clarke,” he said. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in a long time and for a split second, Clarke wondered exactly how long he’d been sitting there.
She said nothing. All she could do was stare at him.
Bellamy looked exactly as he did every time she dreamt about him for six years. His hair was all over the place, his skin was darkened from the summer sun and covered in the same freckles she used to itch to touch. And he was smiling at her.
She was starting to feel a little sick.
Bellamy sat with his back against the tree again.
“It’s not a bad heaven we’ve got ourselves here,” he said lightly.
“This isn’t heaven,” Clarke protested gruffly. She was sitting on her haunches and felt like they earth should just open up and swallow her whole.
“It’s a strange moment to declare atheism,” Bellamy joked lamely and sent her the same half-smile he always did when he tried to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.
“This can’t be heaven,” she insisted, looking away. “Not if I’m here.”
This was hell, she decided. Her eternal punishment for all the horrible things she had done and they were starting with her worst crime. Any minute now, she’ll have a gun in her hand and she’ll have to shoot him again. And again, and again, until the end of time.
She didn’t even realise that she started crying, not until Bellamy’s was in front of her again and tried ti take her face in his hands.
She flinched and fell away from him. He didn’t chase her and she didn’t blame him.
“Clarke,” he tried again, softer. She wiped her tears away but couldn’t look at him. She just stared at the dirt in front of her. “I don’t know what this place is, no-one gave us a tour or a manual. But I don’t believe this is damnation. It’s just—good. It’s peaceful, calm. And everyone we loved is here, safe.”
“Transcendence,” Clarke whispered. She finally looked at him. “You were right. And I didn’t listen.”
Bellamy leaned forward and put his hand out like he wanted to touch her but stopped himself at the last moment.
“So were you,” he admitted. “I should never have trusted Cadogan. I should’ve realised that he was manipulating me, that all he cared about was power. And I should’ve tried harder to explain to you what happened to me, what I wanted for all of us, instead of expecting you to just go with it.”
Clarke shifted in her spot and moved a tiny bit closer to him.
“No, Bell—that wasn’t your fault. You were alone and you went through something unbelievable. We should’ve listened to you, I should’ve listened—trusted you.”
Bellamy huffed a small laughter and Clarke frowned.
“You always tried to make me feel better about my choices, no matter what. Always forgave me my mistakes,” he said. “I wish you could let me do the same for you.”
Clarke shook her head, incredulous. “No, I don’t deserve that.” Did he forget what happened? Did he not know what she did to him?
“Clarke.” His voice was gentle and kind, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
“I killed you!” she cried out and fell forward, catching herself at the last moment, landing on her hands. Violent sobs were wracking her body and she was shaking. She could practically feel the hard metal of the gun under her fingertips, warmed by her skin after being held for so long. Her breath hitched when she realised she wasn’t holding it. She dug her fingers into the ground and heaved.
“Clarke,” he was more insistent now and much closer, making sure she was alright.
She didn’t deserve that, either.
“I killed you, too,” he said and Clarke’s head snapped up. “For six years, while we were back on the Ark you were dead because I made the choice to leave.”
“That’s, that’s different,” Clarke protested with a grimace. “You had to go, you had to save everyone else. And I just—I don’t even know why—how could I?” she was struggling to breathe again, choking on every breath she took and she didn’t even realise that Bellamy was rubbing her back soothingly until it started to work and she calmed down. She allowed herself a second of his comfort before she crawled away and leaned heavily against the same tree trunk she first found Bellamy.
It was fitting, really, that she was practically covered in mud and dirt now. Her soul was just the same—sullied, destroyed.
“You did it to protect Madi,” Bellamy’s voice followed her. She let out a humourless huff of laughter.
“Yeah, and I failed at that, too,” she told him, put her head against the tree. “Sheidheda still found us, told Cagodan everything he knew.” Clarke lifted her head and knocked it back against the tree. Once, twice, three time. She clenched her jaw before speaking again. “I don’t know if it was some fucking miracle or a joke that they killed each other in the end, before they could hurt anyone else.”
She sighed and looked at Bellamy. “You died for nothing,” she said in a hollow voice. She felt hollow, like she was the flesh left behind once her soul had fled. Like her heart was laying in front of her and she was nothing more than a husk.
Bellamy nodded his head and joined against the tree. He looked ahead in silence for a moment.
“Do you know why we’re here?” he asked. “I mean this particular place. This very tree, even?”
Clarke shot him a surprised, confused look. He smiled at her.
“This is the first time I ever felt—wanted. Not because I was available or because someone wanted to use my desperation but because you wanted me for who I was.” Clarke frowned making Bellamy chuckle. “You called me an ass and I’m pretty sure you thought that if we brought those guns back to the camp, I’d start a revolution but you listened to me and you trusted me, even after you learnt what I’d done; it’s thanks to you that Jaha pardoned me—it’s thanks to you that I stayed, that we became a family, and you didn’t have to do any of that.”
He turned his head to the side and looked Clarke in the eye. He took her fisted hand into his and held her gently, so she could take it back if she wanted to. She didn’t, she was frozen in place by his soft gaze. Bellamy’s thumb smudged the dirt on her knuckles.
“You would be better off if you just hated me,” Clarke said but she still kept her hand in his. She craved the comfort of his touch and she was too weak to give it up, even if she knew she had no right to it.
“I did, for a little while. When I first got here, I was angry and frustrated. I wanted more than anything to be able to go back and tell you to snap out of it, to listen to me and believe in the Shepherd.” Bellamy cleared his throat and clenched his teeth. Clarke could see his teeth working and she recognised that look on his face. He was angry with himself and she didn’t understand that.
“Bellamy,”
“I don’t know how but I knew what happened—after, when you went back to earth,” Bellamy continued, “I know that by following Cadogan, by telling him everything that I did, I put you all in danger. I realised that neither one of us was right and if you didn’t hate me for betraying you, for torturing you, I couldn’t hate you either. And I missed you too much,” he added, smiling again, just a little bit. “So I forgave you.”
Clarke started to cry again. She shook her head and took her hand from his, so she could put her face in her hands. She wiped her tears away and looked at Bellamy.
“Why would you do that? I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve you.”
Bellamy leaned away from the tree and so close to Clarke that she could almost feel his breath on her face. “Because I love you,” he simply said, easy as breathing, and more tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t,” she countered. “Everyone who loves me ends up hurt because of me.”
“Clarke, we’re both dead, I don’t think there’s much worse that can happen to us,” Bellamy joked weakly with a small smirk but when she didn’t laugh, his expression softened impossibly more. He brought his hands to her face and wiped the new tears away.
“I can’t make you believe that this isn’t a punishment or that you’re not so far gone that you can’t be forgiven. Only you can forgive yourself and if you’re struggling because of happened with me, I want you to know that you don’t have to do that.”
Clarke closed her eyes and dropped her head so it was almost resting against his shoulders.
“After everything we’ve been through, even in death, we found each other again. I want to think that this means something and I hope that we can figure it out together,” he whispered into Clarke’s hair, his hands still warm against her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her skin.
Finally, Clarke looked up at Bellamy. She could barely see him from behind the tears, but the smile on his face was clear as day. She took a couple of deep breaths and for the first time forever, it didn’t feel like a knife was being twisted in her gut.
“Can we figure it out later?” she asked weakly. Bellamy’s smile widened. He pressed a ghost of a smile against her forehead.
“Whenever you're ready.”