Surrender

"Tell me you're not serious." Raven stormed into the old pressure chamber. "Five years of running, Bellamy, of having our asses kicked, and the minute we're back on Earth you're just going to surrender to them?"

Their motley convoy had been out there since dawn, waiting to take me to the Gagarin. The message was clear: my life in exchange for hers. "They've got Clarke."

"They say they've got Clarke. We don't even know if she's alive."

I sighed, pulling on my jacket. "How else would they know about her?" In space, the temperature was regulated; a jacket was unnecessary. Down here, it was a habit I realised time could never erase—like so many things. "There's no other explanation."

"Like hell there isn't. Just because we haven't made contact with the bunker, doesn't mean—"

"The bunker doesn't know Clarke didn't make it, Raven—you know that." I steadied myself against the small port-hole, watching over the open green field where the exchange was to take place. "You said, you were with me."

"I am," she sighed. "But you saw what Praimfire did. If...if she survived, she'd want you to use your head, you told me that—"

"And she was right." Even this tiny chamber was proof of that: the design was Raven's, the rubber seals Monty's, the vents, Emori and Murphy had scavenged from the Ring, the hours, Harper and Echo had spent soldering the leaks—but the decision had been mine; three days of depressurisation that had cost us three weeks of oxygen. "Up there it kept us alive; but that was a different time." Her eyes were softer now, full with harder memories. "I left her to die once, Raven...I won't do it again."

A clanging rang through the chamber, a steel pipe, most likely: wreckage from the rough landing. "Come on, Blake. We ain't gettin' any younger out 'ere."

"Okay, that's it,"—Raven pounded on the controls and the pressure doors burst open—"scratch my baby," she yelled down at them, "and I'll carve my name on your asses." The rocket was falling apart all on its own, that wasn't what really mattered to her. She'd become protective over the years in a way I hadn't allowed myself to be. She was right, of course. I was surrendering. But not to Eligius Corp. "Grade school grease monkeys," she hissed.

Last time we were here we'd needed oxygen masks and radiation suits to be outside. I'd forgotten how bright it was, how sweet the grass smelt; I'd forgotten how warm it could be.

"Big talk, Reyes," Kurk shouted back, rotten mouth chewing on tobacco, "why don't ya come down 'ere and say that?" The drop from the chamber was at least five metres; the rocket had landed nose-up, and that was where it had stayed. He and Salin were just lucky we weren't in Zero-G, Raven would have kicked their asses to Mars and back.

"I know you want this to be real," she said softly, "I do too. But you don't have to do this out of guilt. Look what you've achieved, Bellamy. If she did die…, it wasn't in vain."

I'd thought about it; of course I had. Maybe the nightblood had worked. Maybe she'd made it back to the lab in time. Maybe she'd found a way to ration the food long enough for the plants to regenerate. Maybe she was down here counting the days for us to return. That was my heart talking though, wasn't it? My head told me she'd died, and she should have. But I couldn't explain it: that humming in the air, that buzzing beneath my skin. Together felt so long ago yet...so, so near. "Do you see anything?" I asked her, eyes searching the tree-line again.

"No. And honestly...I don't expect to."

"Look—maybe you're right, okay, maybe this is a trap. But I can't take that risk." Beyond the field, beyond the shallow forest was the Gagarin: a glinting beacon on the horizon, a wolf in sheep's clothing. "We've both been prisoners on that ship, Raven, and I can't let…." I scrubbed a hand over my eyelids. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Then let's talk about what they're going to do to you once they've got you there."

"I don't c—"

"—you don't care what happens to you. I know. I get it, okay." Of course she did. She'd flown a hundred-year-old escape pod through hell for Finn. "Let's at least talk to the others—"

"No."

"Bellam—"

"Not until I'm gone. They want me, Raven. It's..."—Grounders in space—cold sweat—"it's our only choice."

She sighed into the breeze. "Then go." She adjusted her brace and turned to leave. "I'll comm the others."

"Raven, wait." I pulled the hand-gun from my belt and placed it in her hand. "If you don't see Clarke...shoot them, shoot me—whatever you need to do."

She nodded, and once I was sat on the ledge, she gave me a push.

My boots sank into the mud, squelched as I walked—then Kurk was shoving a sweaty rag in my mouth, Salin clamping my hands behind me. "Bellamy. Blake," he spat against my ear. "Captain Dansk is goin' to be real happy to see you."

Dansk could go float himself, I wasn't doing this for his personal satisfaction. I didn't need Salin's hand on my back for encouragement either. I shrugged him off and he backed away. I'd broken his nose just over a year ago. Obviously one of his brain cells still remembered.

The field wasn't wide, but it was long. At first, it was too long. The tall-grass rose and fell like the tide, sucking me deeper as I searched the spaces between the trees for movement—then it wasn't long enough. Come on. The end of the was field approaching too fast. Come on, Clarke. The undercurrent too strong. Where are you? And then the edge of the field was washing over me, passing me by. No. She—she should have been here. She.… My boots felt like they were full of wet sand, my thoughts drowning in fears of the past. They lied. Dansk had lied. She was...dead. Clarke, was dead.

I craned my neck, looking to Raven. Shoot me. Murphy was there next to her, a rifle in his hand, another in Echo's at the primary hatch in the nose of the rocket—that same door I'd—Raven...?

Her mouth, all of their mouths, were forced open now, screaming something I couldn't hear.

"Keep it movin', Blake." Kurk's fist in my jacket turned me back me around and—Clarke.

Then I couldn't hear anything at all.

She was gagged too, wide eyes matching mine as six filthy hands pushed her through the tree-line: she...she didn't know I was alive either?

They moved us a step at a time, forging us closer together at an excruciating pace, but it still wasn't enough time to memorise everything about her I wanted to remember: the crimson in her golden hair, her khaki camos, her ocean-blue eyes. And that look. I knew that look: now there's something I thought I'd never see—Clarke, please come inside—we need each other, Bellamy—we'd been here before, her and I—if I'm on that list, you're on that list—she'll see how special you are—I needed to touch her—if I don't see you again—if anything happens to me—I needed to know she was real—I've got you for that—but, hands tied—hurry—words unheard—I left her behind—here and now, the apocalypse had found us all over again.

She knew what I was thinking, she always did; and the look in her eyes hardened as she passed me. I knew that one, too. She'd come back for me—she was already planning it. But there was something else; something, I'd come to recognise in myself.

We'd surrendered, both of us. But not to Eligius Corp.

Six years and ten days, and finally, we were both done using our heads.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! Reviews are very welcome. Bellarke reunions are always so tactile, so I wanted to write something where they were restricted from touching, or even talking. For anyone who's worried about Madi, this story assumes that Clarke surrendered to the Gagarin to protect Madi, who made it to their 'safe house' to await Clarke's return.