This story takes place at the beginning of season 3. The premise is that Clarke and Bellamy have a daughter (post season 6) and she decides to go back in time to try to fix some of her parents' worst regrets. Hopefully, the insight she brings will be enough to change the world pre-second apocalypse, but who knows! I hope you enjoy the story!

I had never seen the planet of our origin before. It was beautiful, just as my parents had remembered it. There were swirls of white and blue, interrupted only by large blotches of green or brown.

I didn't have long to enjoy the view before I was hurtling towards a patch of green. The force of the atmosphere slammed against my chest, throwing me back against the seat. I struggled to take deep breaths, to claim oxygen for my body. Heat inched up my fingers and arms, setting a burning sensation up to my shoulders. All of this was expected from our research, but no less painful.

The bright light of my descent through the atmosphere faded as I neared my coordinates. Faster than I thought, the green was filling every inch of my view, swallowing me. And then, finally, the computer's words rang in my ears, melodic with its clear, precise pronunciation.

Brace for impact.

That slammed me against my seat even worse than the atmosphere, cracking my head against the back of my helmet. A deep soreness made my whole body ache, and my eyes fluttered closed, too weak to stay open.

The whispers entered my consciousness first, but the screech of the metal door of my small ship opening is what startled me awake. Despite the jarring from sleep, I was groggy and woozy. The landing had taken more out of me than I thought.

I felt pressure against my neck. "Pilot's alive," someone said. Their voice was close. "Help me," the voice requested.

"Cut through the seatbelts," someone else added. "Here, pull these apart." I felt the belts strapped across my chest loosen, then fall away. My body was dragged out of the small cockpit.

"Get the helmet off," the first voice said. Two hands pressed on either side of my helmet, twisted clockwise, and pulled it up and off my head. Smells flooded my senses first, followed quickly by bright light that turned the insides of my eyelids red. My eyes opened slowly to look up into the faces of several people.

"Miss," one said. "Are you okay?" He had dark skin and eyes, but his voice was soft, patient.

"Where are you from?" a female asked warily.

"Bryne, she just fell out of the sky. Give her a moment." This one was a command, someone who was in charge. My head turned against the ground, craning my neck for that person.

She looked just like the drawings. Long hair, kind eyes, plenty of lines from smiling and worrying - Abby.

"Let's get her sitting up so I can examine her," Abby continued. She neared me. "Do you think you can sit?" she asked. In answer, I pulled myself into a sitting position, grunting at the pain in my chest. "Tender?" she asked as she crouched beside me. I nodded stiffly. Her fingers found the pulse on my neck as I pulled the dark gloves from my hands and tossed them aside. I winced as Abby's fingers probed my collarbone. "Looks like the impact did some damage," she said quietly to me. Then, to the others, "Alright, let's get her back to medical. Bryne, Miller, help me get her onto the stretcher."

My ears perked up at Miller - that name was familiar to me, but the man from before moved closer, and I realized it wasn't Nate. It had to be his father.

The unpleasant woman and Nate Miller's dad moved me carefully onto a long stretcher. I grabbed Abby's hand as they stood with the stretcher to carry me.

"My pack," I said quickly. I let her hand slip as I pointed back to the cockpit. Abby reached inside and yanked my bag out from behind my seat. She tossed it over her shoulder and we left, heading deep into the trees.

I was trying to do the math in my head based on the people still alive and the snippets of conversation that I heard, but it was making my already tender head pound with the effort. Abby had removed my suit and was currently examining my heavily bruised chest. I tried not to look at the blue and purple splotches that lined up with my seatbelts, but it was hard to look away.

"This should help with the pain," a man said as he handed me a capsule and water. I downed the pill and nodded my thanks, then finished the water in large gulps. I squinted, and then realized it was Jackson. Just a much younger version of him.

"Do you have a name?" Abby asked me as she listened to my breathing with a stethoscope.

"Grace," I answered.

"Grace," Abby smiled. "That's nice. Well, aside from the bruising it looks like you're in good shape." I could hear the suspicion creeping in her tone. "Mind telling me where you came from?"

"Actually," I started, my brain spinning. "I'm looking for someone. Your daughter - Clarke Griffin."

"Join the club," Jackson scoffed quietly. My eyes flashed over to him, and with that comment, I felt a sinking in my stomach.

"Sorry, my head is so fuzzy. Um...what year is it?" I asked Abby.

"2150," Jackson answered before she could answer.

"And...the month?" I asked.

"January," Abby said. Her eyes searched my face. "You said your head is fuzzy. Is there a ringing in your ears?"

"No," I said.

"Nausea, blurry vision?" she continued.

"I don't have a concussion," I said firmly. Her brows rose in surprise, though I wasn't sure if it was from my tone or my mediocre medical skills. "What about Bellamy Blake, is he here?"

"Do we know you?" Abby asked in confusion, her eyes unsure. "Are you from the Ark?"

"No...yes, sort of," I said. I batted her hands away and stood quickly, moving to the doors. People passed by outside, walking purposefully in the hallway.

"Hey, sit back down," Abby told me firmly. She rushed to my side. "I need some answers before you go anywhere."

"You wouldn't believe me," I said dismissively, shaking her off.

"Hey!" she fussed, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face her. "I'm speaking to you. And as Chancellor of this establishment, you will answer my questions."

"I know where Clarke is, now let me go!" I said. I yanked my arm free. She and Jackson both looked at me as though I had lost my mind.

"You couldn't - ," Abby started, shaking her head.

"If you let me go, I'll prove it to you," I said. "And then I'll answer your questions. But I have to go...now."

Abby shook her head in disbelief, but it was just at that moment someone else walked into the medical unit and distracted her.

"Bellamy, do you know this girl?" Jackson asked.

He looked different, and it shocked me even though I knew he would. His hair was shorter, he seemed slimmer and taller, and he was clean shaven. He didn't have as many lines on his face from smiling, and he was serious in a way I hadn't quite seen before.

"Uh...no. We've never met," he said, eyes flashing between Jackson and me. "I came to tell you we're heading out for a scouting mission in sector 7. Should be back by nightfall," he told Abby.

"This is Grace. She claims she knows where Clarke is," Abby said. Bellamy looked at me, his expression shocked. "She just fell from the sky, and we don't know her - "

"You know where she is?" he asked me, desperation coating his voice. Maybe I was imagining the feelings in his eyes, but maybe not.

"Yeah," I nodded. I grabbed my pack from where Abby had tossed it and put it on my shoulder. "I can show you."

"Let's go," he said immediately. "We'll be back, Chancellor," he called over his shoulder to Abby as I followed him quickly out of medical.

I followed Da- Bellamy through a maze of hallways until we ended up by a vehicle. Familiar faces were circled around it, and I had to focus so as not to stare. They all looked so young - it was disorienting. I had seen Monty before, of course, on the videos. But Jordan loved to torture himself with the older versions of his father. The younger Monty was only a faint memory I had, and even then he was about seven years older than the version in front of me. This one's hair was longer and flopped near his eyes. The expression on his face was irritated. Monty's irritated gaze led me to Jasper, who I had only ever seen in Mom's drawings - Clarke's drawings, I reminded myself. He looked more disturbed than she had ever depicted him, and there was a glint in his eye that gave me a shiver. Rounding out the crew, Nate Miller lounged against the rover, eyes sweeping the large garage-like room we were in. He was thinner, muscles leaner, and eyes less jaded.

"This is Grace, she's riding with us," Bellamy explained shortly.

"Who?" Raven asked as she popped out from underneath the vehicle. Her long hair was rolled and pulled back into a ponytail. I recognized her signature hairstyle and accompanying scowl from Clarke's drawings. The Raven I knew wore her long hair down, and her face was softer when I was around.

"She knows where Clarke is," Bellamy said simply. He nodded to me and then started passing out guns. He hesitated before he put one in my hand. "Do you know how to shoot?" he asked. I bit back the smirk that question brought. There was no way for him to know that he was the one who taught me.

"Yep," I answered, taking it. The others had already piled into the rover, and Raven had taken the driver's seat. Bellamy helped me up and into the rover, followed me in, and shut the door. Miller reached over and turned the handle to lock it.

"Where we headed?" Raven asked from the front.

"Sector 7 trading post, near the river," I said. Raven nodded and the rover rumbled to life beneath us. The doors in front of us opened, letting in the bright sunshine. A girl on a horse - Octavia, I realized - grinned. The grin was almost unrecognizable, and I realized that this was Octavia before she lost Lincoln. Her eyes weren't dimmed by her lost love, or the burden of being Blodreina. Her smile was beautiful in a way that wasn't haunting or haunted.

"Try and keep up!" she taunted as she took off. Raven smirked and the rover jerked forward to follow after the horse.

Aside from a few curious looks from Bellamy, Miller, and Monty, the ride quickly relaxed. Monty made Jasper play music for the whole car, and the others sang along with slow-growing smiles. Raven pulled up to a small trading post and cut the engine. Jasper was still singing like a lunatic, and was promptly shut up with a smack on the head from Monty. He scowled, but I peered ahead through the windshield, feeling Bellamy's eyes on my face.

"This it?" he asked.

My eyes traced over the roof line, the cloth hanging, the collection in front of the entrance. I made eye contact with Bellamy and nodded.

I hopped out before the rest did, and Octavia shot me a questioning look as she dismounted her horse and tied him up.

I strode boldly through the opening of the trading post, my eyes searching for her. Niylah asked me if I had something to trade in Trig.

"No. Where is she?" I asked instead. Niylah's careful neutral expression said everything she refused to say. "I know she's here. And you know she's in danger. We're Skaikru, where is she?"

When I mentioned that Clarke was in danger, Niylah's eyes softened and she cut a look at a curtain across the room. My boots clumped quietly across the packed dirt floor and I ripped the curtain aside.

She was dirty, blood and mud smeared across her face. Her hair was as red as blood, and was so much longer than I had ever seen it. Her blue eyes, normally warm and open to me, were closed off and icy - distrustful. I had never seen my mom's eyes look at me like that before, and I almost recoiled in surprise. Almost.

"Come on," I said, gesturing to the general direction of the exit.

"Who the hell are you?" Clarke asked. A presence behind me spoke in response.

"A question we're all hoping she'll answer," Bellamy said. His eyes softened when they landed on Clarke, but his expression was cautious. "Hey," he said gently. Her expression faltered for just a moment before she slammed whatever defense back up.

"I'm not coming with you," Clarke said firmly.

"You are," I insisted. She looked at me, disbelieving. "If you don't, the world is going to end in about 3 months. So put on your hero cape and let's get going."