I, of course, do not own The 100 or any of the characters. The plotlines in this story will heavily follows those from the show. All rights to the creators.

"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget."

― Arundhati Roy

Chapter One

It had been six days since she'd left camp.

Six days that had been spent running fast and running far in order to put as much distance between herself and the battle as possible. Six days since Bellamy had gripped her tightly by the shoulders and shouted, "Run." Six days of wandering aimlessly through the unfamiliar and overgrown forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. Six days of total solitude, unless you counted the friendly voices in her head. Six days of barely surviving.

That's all she was doing now; surviving.

How could she truly live when there was nothing left to live for? Everything and everyone that she cared about had gone up in flames along with the camp. Those who had managed to survive Raven's ring of death had been picked off by the grounders, or worse. They had known all along that it was only a matter of time before The 100 ceased to exist at all. They'd been fighting a losing war from the beginning.

And with the death of the 100 came the death of everything that was Melody Pond.

The girl trudging along the forest floor would hardly have been recognizable to those she left behind. Tangled red hair fanned out down her back and across her shoulders in a wild, untamable manner. The clothes she wore were caked with six days' worth of grime and blood and were plastered to her skin by long-dried sweat. In her hand was a wooden bow –scavenged from the ruins of the camp and shoddily mended with a red hair ribbon- that she held pointed towards the ground, arrow already nocked and string drawn taut. The look in her green eyes was far too empty to be considered anything less than lifeless. Melody's body might have survived the battle, but her spirithad been left behind and remained smoldering in the ashes of all she'd lost.

She'd held out hope in the beginning.

Or she'd tried to, at least.

That first night, after the battle, it had been chaotic. She'd run through the forest without looking back, afraid of staying but even more afraid of leaving. Several times she'd almost started back, stopped only by Bellamy's words of reassurance echoing in her mind.

"You won't lose me." He'd said firmly.

But she had.

"Dawn. I'll be waiting for you."

But he wasn't.

When dawn broke and Melody was left standing there amid a sea of charred bodies, the last ounce of hope had left her body. The dropship was empty. Clarke, Jasper, Raven, Miller…everyone who had gone into it for safety, they were all gone. Bellamy was nowhere to be seen, and although she spent hours waiting for him, he never did show.

Melody knew what that meant.

And yet, she carried on.

Mainly because she refused to let the sacrifice that her friends had made be for naught. They had all fought bravely in an attempt to earn their place in this crazy world and they had died with honor; no one could take that away from them. Melody wouldn't tarnish their memory by giving up so soon. To do so would be an act of ultimate betrayal and if Melody was anything, she was loyal, almost to a fault.

Although death, even by her own hand, would have been far easier and less painful than living in a world as unpredictable and dangerous and lonely as the one she currently found herself in, Melody Pond was not the type of girl to take the easy way out. If for no reason other than pure stubbornness, she was determined to fight tooth and nail to make her way in this world, which was just as much hers as it was anyone else's. Whether they liked it or not, Earth was her birthright.

And Melody was going to claim it as such, no matter the cost.

|oOoOoOo|

It seemed like the days were getting shorter now.

As Melody stared up at the rapidly-sinking sun, the ghost of a frown flickered across her face and uneasiness began to slowly creep up on her. It was already the end of her sixth day and what did she have to show for it? An incredibly sunburnt face, half of a mutated rabbit that she had shot the morning before, and an incredibly bad attitude.

The old saying Rome wasn't built in a day came to mind, but it did little to ease her worry. Melody's more rational side knew that starting from scratch wasn't going to be easy, but her impatient side demanded that she begin making progress. Six days. Six. Days. They'd built their entire camp in about that much time, walls and all. So far, casa de Melody was a huge disappointment.

With a heavy sigh, Melody tore her gaze away from the skies and focused on the area around her. When leaving Bellamy, she hadn't thought to go anywhere but away. Away from camp, away from the place where the grounders resided, away from everything she knew. If she'd been in this part of the forest before, she certainly didn't remember it and therefore, had no idea what lay ahead. But whatever it was, it had to be better than what she had left behind her.

The forest was overgrown and dense in most places now. Melody walked with her knife held high above her head, slashing through dangling vines and an abundance of vegetation. The trees were so thick in places that it was hard to see through them. The leaves overhead made a dark canopy, allowing very little light to stream through. Untouched by man for decades, the forest thrived in a beautiful, unkempt way that Melody had always appreciated. It almost pained her to alter even something as insignificant as the overgrown vines, but she had to do what she had to do. Survival was key.

Even after six days, it all felt so surreal. Day after day Melody trudged along on her unmarked path searching for the unknown, half-hoping that she would somehow wander upon camp and find everyone standing there, waiting for it. She'd forgotten just how loud the silence could be when there was nobody else to fill it. She had underestimated the toll that her own thoughts could take on her mind. Above all, she had never realized how terrifying the darkness was with no light at the end of the tunnel.

"Goddamn trees." Muttered Melody, her voice cracking as she spoke for what had to have been the first time in hours. The shadow of irritation had crossed over her features as she hacked her way through the area. Just how much overgrowth could there be?

The answer was a lot. It felt like she'd been cutting her way through the forest for ages before she finally came to a clearing. The sun was sinking beyond the horizon, illuminating the sky with various shades of orange and pink. Melody could hear the first sounds of the crickets beginning to chirp, and she knew that it wouldn't be too long before the rest of the forest's night life came alive. Her only goal before then was to have started a fire. Without one, she would be lucky to make it till morning. Hell, with one she would be lucky to make it till morning. The odds never seemed to be in her favor.

The first lesson anyone had learned on earth was fire starting 101. It was one of the most basic survival skills and one that could make all the difference in the world. Melody had long ago mastered this particular skill, and her blistered fingers seemed to work on their own accord as they dragged various sticks and brush into a pile near the edge of the clearing. Matches were a luxury she couldn't afford, and so she had to start her fire the old fashioned way; by rubbing two sticks together. A process that was simple, but lengthy. And time was another luxury that Melody just couldn't afford.

By the time the sun was completely hidden from view Melody's fire was blazing, glowing a brilliant shade of orange. She sat close to it, staring into the brightly burning flames while slowly rotating a stick holding the other half of her rabbit near the outer edge of the fire. The forest was quiet, aside from the occasional chirping of the crickets and the birds -owls, maybe- as well as the rustling of leaves as some of the smaller animals scampered through the woods. Melody tried to keep her attention focused on the task at hand, but it was easier said than done when she had seen so many of the dangers that lurked in these woods.

Dinner was a solemn event. Sat cross-legged around her small fire, Melody ate mechanically, eyes staring off into the distance –looking, but not seeing- while her fingers and teeth made quick work of the rabbit leg. She'd never quite mastered the concept of cooking over an open fire, and so the meat was burnt in some places and barely cooked in others. None of it mattered to Melody, who ate her meal without hardly registering taste, or anything else for that matter.

When the bone had been picked clean she tossed it into the fire, charring the remains in hopes that the hungry beats prowling the woods would look elsewhere for their dinner. She'd learned the hard way that leaving half-eaten morsels lying around was not a safe idea. There were four jagged slash marks across her left shoulder that could attest to what happened when one went head-to-head with a hungry, irritable jungle cat. She'd almost become dinner, and would have if she hadn't been sleeping with her knife clutched tightly in one hand, a heavy rock in the other.

That was the last time she'd dared sleeping on the ground.

Although truth be told, sleeping was an optional word. It wasn't very often that Melody got even a few hours of sleep. The only 'sleep' she experienced came when she couldn't find the energy to hold her swollen eyelids open any longer. That was when darkness was allowed to overcome her, and the nightmares were free to reign terror over her sub consciousness. It never lasted for more than a few minutes before she was awake once more, typically shaking and sobbing.

Despite being exhausted, both physically and mentally, Melody continued to sit there in front of the fire for a long, long time. She sat too close, close enough to feel the heat beginning to scorch her skin, but Melody seemed indifferent. She reveled in the warmth that the fire produced. She welcomed the distraction provided by the flickering flames.

The hardest part about being alone was the silence; too much silence and her mind began to wander. Melody tried to occupy herself by quietly singing or humming along to any and all of the old songs that she remembered hearing over the PA systems in Factory Station during assembly hours. A lot of what she remembered were wordless compositions, classical music that was supposed to promote peace and productivity in the factory. A few songs were ones that her mother had instilled upon her, childhood lullabies and other simple melodies.

It helped, but ultimately the silence always crept back in.

And when that happened, it was time for bed.

As Melody maneuvered her way up a particularly sound-looking tree, she reflected –not for the first time- on how much she'd grown over these last few months. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. The girl she'd been in the beginning, the one who had first stepped foot on Earth, would never have been able to lift herself up into the branches of any tree. Even if she'd had the strength, she certainly wouldn't have had the confidence in herself.

Now, Melody climbed up the tree quickly and smoothly, her footing precise and her grip firm. The bark was rough against her hands, but these were no longer the hands of a dainty little girl; they were a woman's hands, soft but calloused and used to hard work. When at last she reached a suitable limb that she was sure would hold her weight, Melody stopped and rested with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree, her legs dangling over each side of the long branch.

She hung her bow from a thick offshoot above her head, far enough away that it was safely nestled among a bed of branches, but close enough that it was within arms' reach in case something happened in the middle of the night and she needed to defend herself. Her small knapsack –singed and covered in soot; a trophy from the ruins of the battle- hung similarly beside the bow. To seclude it all from view, Melody bent nearby branches around the bow and the bag, weaving them together until everything was covered from the outside world by a canopy of green.

You could never be too careful.

Once the nightly routine of making camp among the branches was complete, there was nothing else to keep Melody busy. She was faced with darkness, silence, and the inner workings of her own mind.

"Time for bed." She murmured.

She reached into the innermost pocket of her jacket and pulled out a thick ball made out of a vine that she'd cut down earlier in the day. She looped one end of the vine around the tree limb, tying it twice with a double knot to ensure that it was anchored. The other end of the vine she worked through the belt loops of her jeans, securing it around her waist so that, in the event of falling asleep this high up, she wouldn't have to worry about rolling off of the limb and falling fifty feet to her death.

With nothing left to occupy her hands, Melody lowered herself until she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the starry night sky. She reached back and tucked her hair into the hood of her green army jacket; the brightness of her hair was so out of place in the forest that there was no disguising it, so she had no choice but to hide it. Besides, it made a decent pillow.

Faced now with nothing but the dimly-lit night sky and the sounds of the forest –more ominous than peaceful-, Melody let out a soft sigh. She closed her eyes, greatly preferring her own brand of darkness to the darkness of the forest. It felt safer, somehow. She

Day six ✓

She mentally checked the sixth day off. Six days down, a lifetime to go. Most likely a very short lifetime, considering the odds, but a lifetime nonetheless.

In all honesty, Melody didn't know how much more of this she could take. The silence. The loneliness. The hostile surroundings. The feeling of helplessness that washed over her every time she even dared to think about all of the changes that this last week had brought. The utter heartbreak that she was barely managing to keep at bay. The loss of purpose. The feeling of utmost incompletion, as if a part of her very soul had been ripped away.

When the sun came up, Melody went numb to it all. Survival mode kicked in, and she found herself doing any and everything that she had to do in order to stay alive. During those hours she became a shell of person; a robot, almost, moving mechanically, acting on instinct, drifting through life without ever really being conscious of what was happening.

But when the sun went down…

That's when the emotions she spent all of her time repressing came back, stronger than before. Each night she re-lived her worst memories –the memories of the 100's final stand- and each night she was left to face the aftermath of it all, alone. Somehow, it hurt more now than it had when the wounds were fresh. The sense of loss sometimes buckled her knees and took her breath away. More often than not, it left her trembling and teary-eyed.

Every night, their faces haunted her dreams. Young, bright, and full of life.

Jasper, Monty, Clarke, Finn, Raven, Octavia…Bellamy.

And every night, she was left reflecting upon what the world had lost when it lost each member of her broken little family.

Jasper, with his mischievous spirit and his courageous soul.

Monty, with his incredible genius and his gentle heart.

Clarke, with her need to save everyone and her relentless drive to get things done.

Finn, with his frustratingly logical ideas and his peacekeeper ways.

Raven, with her gifted hands and her unfathomable resilience.

Octavia, with her stubbornness and desire to prove herself.

Bellamy…

Bellamy, had a little bit of everything to offer.

There was a mischievous glint that lit up his eyes when it was just the two of them, alone together. There was courage in his soul, shown in the way he led his people. Genius, maybe not, but he was the one who'd planned out and strategized every attack they'd ever made. His gentle heart shone through every time he looked at Octavia, with love and adoration. He tried to save everyone; he'd tried to save Charlotte, he'd tried to save Melody, he'd tried to save them all. His drive, although it came off as pushy and bossy and impatient, was relentless in its being. He was logical, most often when he detached himself emotionally from the situation. And he was a peacekeeper when they needed it most.

His hands were gifted; maybe not in the same sense as Raven, but they were strong and well-worked and they'd spent hours crafting one of the best recurve bows in all of existence. As for his resilience, well, he bounced back easily and was always ready to go again. Stubbornness was a Blake family trait, and Melody had argued with him enough times to know that he almost never backed down. He'd never once stopped trying to prove himself, not since the very first moment they'd set foot on Earth and he'd announced himself their self-appointed leader.

They lost a good one with him, thought Melody to herself.

The words 'and so did I' came to mind, but she quickly pushed them away.

The tears started then, after she'd gone through the list of her most beloved casualties of war. Each and every face flickered through her mind –some more than others- as she lay there, lower lip trembling while wordless sobs wracked her chest. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, blocking out the rest of the world as Melody lost herself in her own grief.

It was a nightly ritual. She'd think, she'd cry, and after several hours –when her eyes were swollen and burning and she couldn't keep them open any longer- she would drift off into unconsciousness, only to be awoken again by the nightmares that plagued her sleep.

Sometime, as she lay there thrashing and moaning and fighting her way through the hellish maze that was the confines of her own mind, the sun began to rise once more.

It was the end of the first week.

But only the beginning of the rest of her life.