Any Other Name

Day Trip

Monty was short for Montgomery. He hated it. He was pretty sure his parents disliked it just as much, because never in his life had they called him by his full name. Even when he was in trouble. He was Monty, and Monty was him. It fit him, while Montgomery felt like wearing someone else's shoes. Uncomfortable and wrong.

The one good thing about being named Montgomery was that it made him just a little more aware of the power of names. Everyone had a first and last name, most people had a middle name as well. Lots of people had nicknames that they generally went by, and some people had pet names only used by those close to them.

Bellamy was the only one to call Octavia "O", very few people called Bellamy "Bell", and everyone called Montgomery Green "Monty".

People may not choose their names, but they can choose what to be called, and it says a lot about them. Monty was keeping a running tally. He'd grown up on the Ark where there were over two thousand people, and suddenly his entire world consisted of a hundred teens. Less than a hundred, and the number refused to quit dropping.

Monty ran through the names. Roma and Mbege. Atom. Charlotte and Wells. The number of the dead kept rising. Mbege's first name had been John, but he'd hated it. Charlotte didn't like being called Charlie when one of the older kids had tried the nickname.

Then there were the survivors. People called Raven by her first and last name interchangeably. Clarke was always Clarke or "Princess" but never "Griffin". Harper had a last name, but Monty had never once heard it.

Monty filled his canteen from the camp water supply and rubbed his cold hands together. He could see his breath. He'd joked with Jasper about Hypothermia, but if the weather got much colder it'd stop being a joke very quickly. It didn't bother Monty as much as it probably should. His head was starting to swim and he didn't know why, but the sensation was far from unpleasant so he didn't bother dwelling on the phenomenon.

The sound of stomping feet made Monty turn around. Miller stormed up to the water angrily. He dipped filthy hands into the basin below the spigot and furiously rubbed what looked like squashed berries from his fingers.

"You, uh, you alright?" Monty glanced around awkwardly. He didn't know Miller, but the guy was clearly upset. Sterling had mentioned that Miller had been put in charge of talking to the parents of the dead delinquents. Monty didn't envy the job.

"Fan-freaking-tastic," Miller growled. He pulled his hands from the water and yanked off the beanie that seemed permanently attached to his skull. He placed one hand gingerly against his forehead. A shiny new goose-egg was quickly forming. Monty frowned. He was definitely dizzy, but he could see the raised bruise clearly enough. He found himself thinking about what a shame it was, bright and ugly on Miller's otherwise handsome face.

"You fall or something?" Monty's curiosity got the better of him, "You should see Clarke. You might have a concussion," Monty knew concussions were serious, but he felt a wide grin take over his face.

"Aren't you supposed to be on rations detail?" Miller snapped. Monty just shrugged and turned toward his tent.

As he walked he found it very appropriate that he'd never once heard Miller's first name. The guy was just not friendly. The buzzing in his brain seemed to whisper that maybe, just maybe, Miller didn't have a first name. He agreed. There were more pressing things to think about anyway, like giving the Earth a hug.

I Am Become Death

Everyone was sick. Those who weren't sick were avoiding each other like the plague. Literally. Nearly everyone had been exposed, and there was no way of knowing who'd start bleeding from their orifices, who'd die, and who'd be fine.

Monty was okay. Jasper was okay. Scratch that, Jasper was a raging asshat, but at least he wasn't sick. Monty was hunkered down in the tent, cocooned in a violently orange blanket.

The flap came open and Monty curled in on himself, content to ignore Jasper until he knew whether his friend had returned to apologize or to hurl further insults. The sound of someone sitting down on the other side of the tent, however, was wrong. Whenever Jasper sat he flopped down like a marionette with its strings cut. Jasper never moved with grace, and anytime he sat it was always accompanied by a thudding sound.

This person had moved rather quietly, and without the tell-tale thud. Monty sat up to see who had invaded the tent.

"Shit, man," Miller jumped back to his feet looking startled, "Didn't see you there."

"What are you doing here?" Monty felt suddenly self-conscious about the fuzzy orange blanket and let it slide off his shoulder and settle on the bed behind him.

"I'll leave," Miller nodded and turned.

"You don't have to," Monty responded immediately, "I just... were you looking for Jasper? He's on a mission from Bellamy so he can't take another guard shift on the wall."

"I know," Miller responded, looking the tiniest bit guilty, "Monroe's on duty right now. I just..." He petered out, took a deep breath, and found his words, "Conner spewed blood all over our tent. I heard Jasper wasn't sick and I figured he wouldn't mind me hiding in here for a little while."

"Hiding?" Monty raised his eyebrows, surprised that Big Tough Miller had copped to being scared.

"You've seen it out there," Miller spoke honestly, not looking the least bit embarrassed about his fear, "Give me a Grounder to shoot and I'll shoot, but there's no way to fight this thing," His face darkened and his voice lowered, "And it's killing our people."

"Yeah," Monty lowered his head. It was horrific and disgusting and flat-out terrifying. He felt his insides squirm. People were dying. War was coming. Shit had gotten real, and he and Jasper were upset about bruised feelings. It was stupid. Jasper had said mean things. Monty had said (admittedly less) mean things. It wasn't worth the drama. It surprised Monty that he and Jasper had let such a petty argument erupt in the middle of such deadly mayhem. It surprised him even more that the person to put it into perspective was Miller. Monty made up his mind before he'd realized it, "Hey, Miller? Stay as long as you want. I'm going after Jasper and Finn."

"Hold on, Green," Miller stood in the entryway, "No one leaves camp unarmed," He crossed his arms in front of him disapprovingly.

"Then I'll take a gun," Monty tried to say it seriously, but was holding back a chuckle. Miller had called him Green and it had struck him funny. How did Miller know his last name was Green? No one called him that.

"Do you know how to shoot?" Miller raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely curious.

"Let's hope I don't have to," Monty grinned and slipped passed the larger man before he could be stopped. He didn't see the surprised smile spread across Miller's face.

Inclement Weather

Miller was back. The sentence seemed stuck on repeat all morning. Those not present in the cafeteria when the young man first appeared soon found out. Even after the fact had been established, people seemed content to remind each other. Miller was back.

Monty was astonished by how happy he was to see Miller. He didn't even know the guy's first name, but it felt like a miracle to see him again. There were so few left from the hundred, and the Ark was surely gone. Each life was a miracle, and Miller's was that twice-over because everyone knew him. He was someone everyone trusted and listened to back at camp, someone that had helped people with weapons training and taking extra guard shifts. Monty hadn't realized how important it was that Miller be alive and safe until the man came strolling in with a smile on his face.

That smile hadn't lasted though. It wasn't long before Miller had picked a bunk and hidden behind a book. Maybe he was worn out from his surgeries. Maybe he just didn't like being the center of attention. Whatever the reason, he seemed content to read quietly. He gave quick waves to anyone who said 'hi' to him, and occasionally commented on conversations happening within earshot, but he didn't move from his bunk all day.

It was night before Monty actually spoke to Miller.

"Hey," Monty gave a little wave and climbed into his bunk, right beside the one with Miller.

"Hey," Miller closed his book and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I think that's Fox's bunk," Monty warned politely. He didn't want Miller to fall asleep just in time to get booted to another bed.

"It was. She swapped with me," He stretched his arms and grumbled, looking thoroughly exhausted. He was still a little pale from the surgeries.

"Why?" Monty raised an eyebrow. People had become fairly territorial about their beds. Everyone shared clothes, food, and the dorm room, but not their place to sleep.

"The light was better over here," Miller shrugged and motioned to the book he'd been reading. Monty nodded politely, but it was pretty obvious that the entire room was evenly lit. If Miller didn't want to give the real reason, it wasn't Monty's place to push, so he just let it slide.

The room quieted, and the delinquents began making their way to their beds. Right on cue, the lights flickered out. The porthole window in the door allowed a small trickle of light from the hallway.

"'Night, Monty" Jasper mumbled as he clambered to the top bunk.

"'Night," Monty twisted in place to land a kick on the mattress above him. It had become a nightly ritual. Within just a few minutes the dorm had gone from quiet conversations to nothing more than the sound of deep, steady breathing.

"Monty?" A whispered voice broke the silence.

"What's up, Miller?" Monty responded sleepily.

"Don't go off alone again."

"What?" Monty sat up, confused.

"The search party for Clarke and Finn? The one where you disappeared? You shouldn't have been alone. Don't do it again," Miller didn't sound scolding. He sounded worried, and it surprised Monty.

"We're stuck in an underground bunker. It'd be kinda hard to wander off," Monty chuckled under his breath.

"You're probably right," The room was dark, but Monty could hear Miller shifting in his bunk. The room went quiet again. Jones was snoring on the other side of the dorm.

Monty tried to sleep, but the conversation had gotten under his skin. It seemed like each conversation with Miller left him with less of a clue of what to think of the young man. Whatever he thought, he knew he was very happy to have his confusing friend back. If friend was the right word.

"Miller? What's your first name?" Monty whispered, but the only response he got was the steady breathing of sleep.

Author's Note: 3 scenes here, 3 scenes next chapter. If it goes well I might do one from Miller's perspective.