This will be a two-part story.

. . . . . .

Part One: Clarke

Home was not Arcadia, where the warped and broken walls of camp reminded her too much of the Ark; the claustrophobia and fear of realizing that as long as they moved through its halls, her people would never know anything other than the cold, dark emptiness of space.

Home was not the Capitol, where the rules and scenery were harsher and more brutal than she was used to; where the laws and the way they were enforced were far too similar to the Ark's corrupt system of justice. Make one wrong move, disobey, and you get floated (or pushed off of a balcony).

Home was not the woods, which hid monsters and threats behind every tree, inside every shadow. They used to be a source of comfort for her ancestors, but not these woods. Not anymore.

Home was not even the dropship, which had become the Hundred's sanctuary and prison during their first few months on Earth. Now it was just a reminder of the strained moments between the joy of their arrival and the loss of their collective innocence, and how even the cruelest of deaths, however justified, could be forgotten with time; buried beneath the dirt and tucked away by a sleepy forest with far too many secrets.

Home was not Mount Weather, which held too many painful memories of torture and death.

Finn had not been her home, though she had thought he was, once, before the horrors of Earth had stolen his innocence and left him broken and afraid; the mischievous glint to his eye, the crook of his smile, his will to keep going, gone.

Lexa was not her home, though Clarke is sure she could have been, had they been given more time. Strong and beautiful and so alive; Lexa had been fierce in the protection of her people but soft when and where it counted. She was passionate, she was toxic. Lexa was everything Clarke wanted but could not be, and she had both hated and loved her for it.

Abby Griffin was home. Despite their strained relationship and the fact that Clarke had hated, slandered and constantly pushed her mother away, Abby was always right there, arms open, waiting for her daughter to accept that a single person could not do everything alone. That sometimes, girls needed their mother, no matter how unbreakable they believed themselves to be.

Jasper was her home. He was living proof that broken things can still be beautiful, and though the pieces of him can never be put back together the same way again, there is something magnificent about someone so fragile continuing to struggle through each day, one step at a time, in the hopes that maybe it will all make sense in the end.

Monty was her home. He was the perfect combination of brave and caring, and though he had done things and faced obstacles that Clarke could never understand, he still had that spark of humanity in his eyes that the others had lost. Those wise, clever eyes calmed her when nothing else could. If Monty could be brave, then so could she.

Though brash and unpredictable, Octavia was her home. She taught Clarke that people were more than the names they gave themselves and that sometimes the only way to get anywhere in life was to find the courage to forge your own way in the world.

Raven was her home. Brilliant, resilient Raven, who was far too much like Clarke. Maybe that's why Finn fell in the love with the pair of them. Raven constantly defied the odds, finding solutions when no one else could. Despite a gunshot wound to the leg, losing Finn, being tortured by Mount Weather and bullied by A.L.I.E., she bowed to no one, figuring out ways to help her friends when they needed her the most.

Harper and Miller were also her home; two of the original Hundred who could survive anything, from Grounder spears to drills, and come out of it with more resolve than ever. They were determined to make the Earth their home, and Clarke would help them see it through because they, more than anyone else, deserved the peace of a stress-free life.

Even Murphy was her home. Though still an ass, he managed to survive everything the ground threw at him, and turned out to be one of the few people Clarke could count on in times of trouble. It's funny how life works, sometimes.

And then there was Bellamy. Brave, loyal Bellamy, with his love of history and strong morals. He was identical to Clarke and her exact opposite simultaneously; always there to either assist her in her crazy schemes or fight with her over the miniscule details. He offered her the forgiveness she didn't deserve and the strength she needed without ever being asked; grounding her on a planet that always seemed to be shifting beneath their feet. He was the Knight to her Princess, the King to her Queen, her partner, and there was something oddly comforting about working alongside someone who understood the burden of leadership and the difficult choices they had to make to survive. He was her confidant and her partner-in-crime, and Clarke knew that she could always count on him, no matter how bleak and unattainable things seemed. She needed him, always. He was her home, and Clarke couldn't imagine living in a world that did not have Bellamy Blake in it.

x

Clarke's home was not a place, but a group of people that had banded together to make the best of a worsening situation. They were delinquents, friends, family members, ex-leaders, and enemies-turned-allies; they had fought on opposite sides and teamed up to stop a war. Every single one of them had come down to prove that the Earth was habitable, and instead they had each shown, in their own way, that if you find a group of people daring enough, crazy enough, loyal enough and strong enough, there wasn't a single obstacle they would not be able to overcome as long as they were together, and Clarke felt like she finally understood the meaning of "home" when she was with them. So even if it meant they would spend the rest of their lives running—whether it be from Grounders, Mountain Men, or their own people—Clarke would choose that life over any other if it meant they were running together.