The days after Mount Weather were difficult.

The rescue was difficult; they lost even more of their meager numbers before Clarke and the Grounders got them out and to a safe distance.

The trek to Alpha station was difficult; emerging from the mountain had been like taking those first steps out of the drop ship all those weeks ago. Forgetting the feeling of fresh air on your skin, the feel of immensity in the sky above you came easy for kids who'd spent their lives inside metal walls. Forgetting what lay out in the dark forests surrounding them, or that the people who now had to trust were the same who'd killed your friends a very short time ago - that was harder. More so when they learned what had happened to Finn.

But hardest still was their homecoming at Alpha, or Camp Jaha as they were calling it - unironically. Monty and the others had been banished from the Ark one-hundred-and-two delinquents strong. Less than forty of them walked through the gates of Camp Jaha and they were greeted like heroes.

For a moment, it felt good, really good. They'd lost so much, been so close to death so many times, suffered through living in hell for these people. It felt good to at least be acknowledged for it. And then the movements of some of those cheering just stopped, as if their arms had seized in an instant; their eyes scanned over the small crowd over and over until finally they realized that the child they'd been expecting to come home wasn't there. It might actually have been easier in the reverse; to see so many of hopeful kids buzzing excitedly and then…stop, because the people they'd expected to be waiting for them at this grizzly finish line weren't there. The hundred-and-two might have been crushed, might have fallen from hope to despair from heights that could never be climbed again, but they had become the less-than-forty, and desolation was a familiar ache now.

But Monty was an optimist by nature - a pragmatist, sure, but an optimist - and when his Jasper-crutch had jumped jarringly under his shoulder and yelled "Dad!" excitedly, he had really believed in happy endings.

Jasper's parents, tears streaming over their smiling cheeks had shoved people aside carelessly to get to them faster, and Monty had been subject to the best hug he'd had since being incarcerated. These people were his second parents, the people who took care of him when his parents were busy with work or off on date nights. And when they finally released him from their arms and properly looked at him, their smiles became tight and strained, and Monty understood with a heavy kind of detachment that he'd be going home with them tonight. That they were taking it upon themselves to look after him now like they must have promised his parents they would, if the time ever came. And he couldn't do anything but comply when they guided him away from the crowds.

If his body hadn't hurt so much, if his head hadn't been aching with a deep throb, Monty might have been able to convince himself that it was just a regular sleepover at the Jordans'. But he couldn't find a position on the thin cot that didn't press into his marrow extraction wounds and fresh cuts and bruises. And sleepovers on the Ark had never involved tents. Pillow and blanket forts, yes, but not tents. And they definitely hadn't included Maya and her father, who'd left Mount Weather with a number of other citizens who'd helped hide the last of them. They'd be undergoing bone marrow transplant tomorrow, with Maya and her father using Jasper's donations, and the others depending on the charity of volunteers. Harper and Monty wouldn't be among them, and Monty tried to convince himself he didn't feel guilty about it.

He was lying to himself about a lot of things lately. The latest being that it was the whooshing sounds from Maya and her father's anti-contamination suits that were keeping him awake. That they were what drove him to roll gingerly off his cot, and tiptoe across the cold, crowded tent into the fresh night air.

He didn't know Camp Jaha's layout, and he didn't have a destination in mind, so he just walked, following the electrified fences from enough of a distance that the guardsmen wouldn't bother him. He didn't feel like seeing anyone, didn't feel like talking or explaining himself. He just needed to be alone for a while, to process…everything.

In the end, he needn't have worried about being disturbed too much; he had done a full pass around the towering remains of Alpha station before he came across anyone he recognized.

"Nice night out," a familiar voice called out. Miller was sitting on a crate, leaned up against the exterior of Alpha, legs drawn up lazily. He had sounded sarcastic, for no apparent reason, and it made Monty grin and look up at the clear night sky.

"Like any on the Ark," Monty replied. "Like any day on the Ark, really."

"True enough," Miller drawled, like he'd never really cared about the starry sky to begin with.

It felt like the end of a regular exchange, the polite small-talk had been successfully completed and he should be moving on with his walk. But he didn't really feel like wandering anymore.

"How are you?" he asked instead.

Miller shrugged. His the corner of his lower lip was puffy where it had been split and the bridge of his nose still had a line of blood across it where a cut was healing, but otherwise he seemed well enough, considering.

"You?" Miller asked, eyes flitting slowly across Monty's body. Suddenly, he could remember part of that last fight against the Mountain Men, when he'd taken a particularly hard blow under his left shoulder blade that knocked him to the ground. He'd never seen what hit him, but when he'd scrambled to turn around, out of breath and certain that the next hit would kill him, Miller's faded and bloodied shirt had been the first thing he processed, not half a foot away, the guy wearing it standing between him and danger. Unfortunately, Miller had only managed two or three hits with his butcher knife before he'd been taken down, and Monty had been lost to body blows again until Clarke arrived with the cavalry just minutes later.

"You look like you should be in Medical," Miller added.

"Looks worse than it is," he replied, trying to grin roguishly but having to stop when pain flared across his left cheekbone. "I'll go tomorrow."

Miller nodded and again Monty felt like he really should be moving on, continuing his walk, but he was rooted in place. This spot was secluded, next to nothing but extraneous wreckage, sheltered by out-facing edges of the station. It was peaceful. Just the quiet night, and Miller on a crate. And when Miller sat up slightly and shuffled himself to the side to make room for him, Monty found himself sitting down without really thinking about it.

For long moments, they sat quietly, staring out at the nothingness of scrap metal and the forest beyond. Miller's hands busied themselves shredding a small pile of grass, and Monty found he was tired enough to find the sight fascinating.

"It's weird, right?" Monty heard himself say, his voice hushed, without a clue as to where he was going with that thought.

"Being back with…?" Miller asked, throwing his hand out towards the populated areas of camp.

That worked. "Yeah."

Miller took a deep breath and let it out with widened eyes and pursed lips that confirmed that yes, it was weird.

"I didn't see you when - I just kind of left… Did you - your dad…"

"Yeah," Miller said shortly, though Monty thought he heard a hint of hidden joy hidden in the word. "He's here."

And just like when Jasper had yelled for his dad, Monty felt the embers of his belief in happy endings grow warm again.

"You?" Miller asked.

Monty took a moment, not ready to let go of the minuscule glow of hope just yet, and Miller took that as his answer.

"I'm sorry."

Monty didn't look at him, but he could picture the softness of his gaze, the way it had been after they'd stolen the map from Dante's office. Unexpected, and amazing because of it. And when Miller shifted again on the crate, this time to move just slightly closer so that Monty could feel the warmth of his arm against him, he felt better. Not by much, but enough to be thankful.

"The rest of the Ark is spread out over miles, we don't know who else made it yet," he said, as the chill under his skin slowly receded. "They wouldn't have been on Alpha station so not being here doesn't mean they aren't here, you know?"

"Yeah."

Monty nodded to himself and settled back against Alpha's hull, and it was silent again for a time. When all the bits of grass had been shredded and released into the air like confetti, Miller clasped his hands together and used them to trap knees, seemingly content to sit quietly all night.

"So, how come you're out here enjoying the nice night?" Monty finally asked.

Miller shrugged. "It's like you said."

When Monty looked confused, Miller grinned with a shadow of nonchalance and said, "It's weird."

He didn't seem inclined to elaborate, and Monty didn't press. But he did let himself lean just ever so slightly towards Miller, hoping it would help. When the edge of Miller's lips quirked up momentarily, he thought it did.