The 100

    Harper looked back at you from where she stood off at the side-lines, and, despite the blood and the sweat that dripped from your body and onto the floor, and the look of anger on your face, she couldn't help but feel a swell of happiness throughout her being. As you glanced over to her, with a hard expression still set on your face, you noticed that she smiled to herself and looked down at the ground. The group, that you had been training with, began to disperse and you handed your weapon back to one of the Grounders who had been in charge of handing them out in the first place. It had been a rigorous two hours, but you were finally finished and now able to spend some time with Harper. With the back of your hand, you wiped the blood that still dripped from your nose, and you made your way over to where Harper had been standing. As you got closer, you could see another Grounder talking to her—although, going off of the uncomfortable expression that Harper had been wearing, you would have believed that she was talking at her, lecturing her.

    "Can't you see that she doesn't want you near her?" You asked the other Grounder—having no clue who they were, but only knowing that they were from Boudalan Kru—while standing slightly in front of Harper.

    "It's you that she shouldn't want to be near," she spat, looking you up at down.

    "And yet, here we are."

    "You are a ripa, you are the baga," she spoke with disgust.

    "Oh, I'm the enemy?" The Grounder nodded while you laughed, looking back at Harper, "I'm the enemy," you repeated, obviously being sarcastic, while Harper quickly shook her head, knowing what you were about to do. With one swift motion, you managed to take out one of the smaller knives, that you had kept hidden on your body at all time, and place it at her neck, staring at her face with a cold expression while her eyes widened and her hands went to grab your wrist. One of your hands held the back of her head, keeping her from moving, as your other hand with the knife slowly pressed further into her neck, drawing a tiny amount of blood that slowly dribbled down at to the collar of her shirt. "I may be a killer, but we are Wonkru now, I am not the enemy."

    "Stop this," Harper whispered urgently, placing her hand on your shoulder.

    "Teik ai frag em op."

    "No, you're not killing her," Harper argued, grabbing hold of the material of your shirt as she tried to tug you back.

    The Grounder looked over at Harper, and you pressed the blade against her neck harder again. "Eyes on me, not on her." The Grounder's eyes flickered back to you. "Good. Now… gon we o wan op." You let go of the other Grounder and her hand went to her neck as she stepped away from you, shuddering as she breathed out. "Go!" You stressed louder and the Grounder made her way out of the room.

    "Did you really have to threaten her?"

    "I did no such thing."

    "You told her to leave or die!"

    "I—"

    "I've learned a few phrases since knowing you," she admitted, letting out a sigh as she turned and grabbed a cloth from the table, and began to wipe away at some of the blood on your face. "I wish you would stop doing that."

    "I'm only—"

    "Looking out for me, I know. I know that. But, what if one day they have enough? What if one day Octavia sees you do that and she tells them to kill you? I don't want you to die, not because of me."

    You pulled your face away from her as she tried to clean your nose and sighed. "Harper," you spoke in a soft voice, placing your hands on her cheeks as she frowned, clearly trying to stop herself from crying at the thought of losing you. "Yu sonraun laik ai sonraun. Osir keryon ste teina." She let out a small laugh, sniffing as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. "If that ever happens, then I'll die knowing I did while protecting you. But I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon. Octavia knows what I'm like, she knows how far I'll go for you. Nou get yu daun, beja." She closed her eyes as your thumbs wiped away her tears. "Ai hod yu in," you whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead.

    Bellamy stood there, silently, with his arms crossed over his chest and with his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe, just watching. The look on his face said one thing: disappointment, and you couldn't exactly blame him for it. Clarke had left you a few minutes ago, after cleaning the wound on your forehead and the gash on your left arm—which required twelve stitches and a small speech about how she didn't want to see you like that again. You were trying your best to ignore him, but he was blocking the light coming in from the hallway, casting his shadow on the ground in front of you, which your eyes had been glued to the moment you had sat down. He shifted, pushing his weight away from the doorframe, but continued standing in the same place. As he did, you were finally able to draw your eyes away from the shadow and to the small purple and white, handmade, bracelet in your hand, slowly turning it with a delicate touch.

    "If you're going to say something, then say it. Don't just stand there watching me," you spoke up, causing him to sigh at the sound of your monotone voice.

    "I'm worried about you," he said for the umpteenth time.

    "Well, don't be, there's no reason for you to be worried," you replied, despite knowing that he wasn't going to listen to you.

    Bellamy uncrossed his arms and walked in the room, crouching down in front of you. "You know that's not an option for me." He smiled softly at you, tilting his head ever so slightly as he continued to look at your face, even when you weren't looking back at him.

    "I know," you whispered back, still staring at the bracelet, continuing to turn it slowly, which caught his attention and made him look from your face to your hands.

    "What's that?" He asked, finally getting to see what it was that you had been holding the entire time.

    "It was hers."

    "'Hers'?" He furrowed his eyebrows and looked back up to your face.

    "She was just a kid."

    "Who?"

    "My sister."

    With those two words, it all suddenly seemed to make sense to him. He breathed in and hung his head, realising what sparked the sudden shift in your behaviour. Bellamy looked back up at you, sparing a glance at the bracelet before his eyes scanned your face and at the empty, emotionless look that you held. "I'm sorry," he spoke in a low, yet comforting, tone, offering his condolences.

    "Yeah, so am I."

    "It wasn't your fault."

    "You don't know that, Bell."

    "You didn't kill your sister."

    "You don't understand…"

    Bellamy placed his warm hands over yours, stopping you from messing around with the bracelet. "Then help me to understand so I can help you, please." He moved his hands to gently rub your arms, trying to give you some comfort, wanting to help you in any way that he could, without being able to bring your sister back.

    "My sister died in my arms," you admitted quietly, "I held her even after her body went cold… I held her." There was a burning in your eyes from unshed tears. "She died in my arms that there was nothing I could do to save her, even when she begged and pleaded with me." You could feel your bottom lip quiver as her voice began to echo in your head. "She was so scared, and she just kept saying that she didn't want to die, that she didn't want to go. She wasn't ready." Bellamy closed his eyes at the sound of your voice breaking constantly, at how your words were getting caught in your throat, causing you to choke them out. "She begged me not to let her leave, but I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't keep her alive when that was all that she wanted." A few tears finally rolled down your cheeks, but you couldn't be bothered to wipe them away, there would be no point, especially as more tears just kept rolling down. "She's gone, and this is all I have left," you finished, playing with the bracelet again.

    "What happened?" He asked quietly, worried that if he had spoken any louder, that you would somehow break.

    "She was sick, she had been for a long time, but for some reason, she started getting worse. I thought, being on the ground, with fresh air, that it would have helped, but it didn't. Abby couldn't do anything, she said that, whatever it was, it progressed too far and too fast, all she could do was make her comfortable… but nothing ever did."

    Bellamy watched as your whole body seemed to shake with painful, hard-to-breathe sobs, your eyes were squeezed shut, and tears still rolled down your cheeks. He quickly moved to sit beside you, pulling your head towards him as his arms cradled you towards his chest, his hands clutching the fabric of your jacket. His chest felt tight as you continued to cry, he felt helpless.

    With a sniff, you continued to explain, "It happened when she was in bed. She had been coughing non-stop, she had a fever, she had been throwing up before, there had been blood. I held her, I brushed her hair out of her face, I wiped her tears, I cleaned the vomit from the side of her mouth, I told her that I wasn't going to leave her. But that wasn't enough. She didn't want to die, she wasn't ready. Then she started to shake, she said she felt cold, her breathing got shallow, her body started to get limp, she couldn't even hold her head up, she couldn't move. It happened so fast. One minute she was awake, and then the next, she wouldn't open her eyes, she had no pulse."

    "It wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could do."

    "It hurts so much."

    "I know, but you don't have to deal with this alone, you know that." He rested his cheek on top of your head. "Just talk to someone, don't bottle it up. If you need someone, then I'm here. You can't keep getting yourself into dangerous situations, you might feel like you have nothing left, or that you've failed, but it's not healthy. You wouldn't let me deal with this kind of pain like that, would you?"

    "No."

Zoe Monroe: Warrior The moment that people had found out that Monroe was with a high-ranking member of the Azgeda army, they would have tried to break the two of you apart. Not only was the Ice Nation hated amongst the Sky People, but also amongst the other Clans. No one would trust you at all, aside from Monroe, but, then again, as a member of Azgeda, you wouldn't have particularly cared, especially as the majority of the members from the army would have been desensitised as part of their training. In order to get to the rank that you were at, you would have had to have repressed any sense of who you once were, leaving behind only a soldier. Of course, you would have been close to your own people, having some sort of friendships or relationships, but, ultimately, you would have been closed off. So, when people began to see you with Monroe more and more, they would have realised that it meant that you let down some of your walls to let her in, that it would have meant that you were serious about the relationship and that you had trusted her, because it probably wouldn't have been a normal or casual occurrence for the higher-ranking members of the army to be with anyone in any way, as to not form attachments. However, Monroe was the exception, for the long haul. 

Anya: Ex-Warrior In the beginning, you would have been ostracised by Trikru. After all, you had been a part of the Azgeda army, and a high-ranking member while part of it. However, that wasn't who you were now. In the beginning, Commander Lexa would have sent Anya to keep an eye on you, to make sure that you weren't there to act as a spy. However, over time, you were beginning to be treated as a member of Trikru. Anya, although composed, would have most likely grown attached to you, having spent so much time watching you and being with you. By the time a relationship formed between the two of you, you would have been considered part of Trikru, trusted, and mostly known. It helped that you wanted to leave that part of your life and start fresh, so people wouldn't have been opposed to it, or angry about it. The two of you would have been supported and respected. Anya would have already been comfortable around you and would let her guard down when it was just the two of you, and because of the effort that she, and the rest of Trikru, displayed, you would have been the same way when around her.

Octavia Blake: Warrior No one knew how your relationship started. Octavia had practically despised you the moment she met you, while you were indifferent towards her. You never considered her much of a threat to you. Lincoln had told her about some of the Azgeda soldiers, and your name had come up a few times, linked to stories that could have been nightmares, so disturbing that even the most fearless of adults would have been paranoid to close their eyes. The relationship between the two of you got stronger during the six years of being down in the Second Dawn bunker. Being one of the members of Ice Nation to go down in the bunker, you had helped guide her during difficult times, alongside Indra—who couldn't stand the sight of you, yet respected the fact that you were trying to help Octavia shoulder the burden of being the Red Queen. You had also trained her in fighting in private, letting her know how to improve. The relationship at first was rocky, and mainly dealt with politics and training, but the two of you slowly began to open up to one another when you both realised that you had been holding things in, which held you back from becoming someone better. You both pushed one another to do better, to be better, and Octavia needed someone in her life who accepted her, cared for her, and who would help carry the weight of stress and duties that were now forced upon her, letting her know that she was human, and not the violence she saw herself as.

Jasper Jordan: Warrior Although your time together wasn't as long as the two of you would have liked, you both had found solace in the presence of one another. After Mount Weather, you both carried the trauma, although for different reasons. Jasper had needed someone who had experienced the same pain he had in order for him to accept the offer of being his crutch. Even as a high-ranking member of the Azgeda army, you had watched your comrades die, hanging, being drained of their blood, while you were helpless. For years, you had been trapped as a prisoner, similar to Echo, however, you took their deaths as weakness on your own part, as a failure to do your duty, because you saw the other soldiers that you fought alongside as your family, and to be helpless while watching them die was a heavy, crushing weight. Once out of Mount Weather, you had been sent to Polis by Queen Nia, as a way for her to make her looming presence known without ever being there herself. It wasn't until you had gone to Arkadia again that you had found Jasper. After seeing the effect of what Mount Weather had done to the two of you, no one really made their comments known about how they felt, and, instead, allowed the two of you to be beacons for the other when they realised that no one else could be that person for either of you.

Monty Green: Ex-Warrior He had seen the way you had reacted to finding out about Azgeda using the rest of Skaikru as slaves when they came back from Farm Station and told everyone what had happened. The pain and guilt you had felt and displayed showed him, and the rest of Skaikru, that you were no longer the person you were when you had been a part of the Azgeda army. He had stepped up and offered to show you a friendly face, not wanting you to feel secluded from the rest of those at Arkadia. You had a friendship before anything moved further, it was a solid and healthy relationship, which was built on mutual trust for one another. The relationship ultimately progressed when you both realised that you had feelings for one another, that weren't just between friends. It was expected, and no one really seemed to think anything of it when it happened.

    Wild and unruly commotion by the gates of the camp had caught not only many of the other delinquents' attention but also Monroe's. After setting one of the gun clips—that she had been loading up with the bullets that Raven had finished with—down, she followed closely behind Finn, who had been helping her, to the front of the crowd. Monroe could feel her heart rate pick up with each step, her chest felt tight, and an uneasy feeling washed over her that made her want to throw up. It wasn't until she caught sight of one of the girl's, who had been in your hunting group, that fear had settled in. It couldn't have been you, she thought almost instantly. That same thought kept echoing louder and louder in her head the more that the crowd had stepped back and allowed for your group to enter the camp with more space. But, there you were, with your head lulling to the side, and blood staining the right-hand side of your shirt as two of the boys helped drag you in, with your arms hanging limply over the shoulders, both of the boys gripping onto your wrists to stop your arms from slipping off their shoulders and you, ultimately, dropping to the damp mud.

    Finn held Monroe back by the arms as your stumbling, barely conscious, body was directed passed them and up the ramp and into the dropship where Clarke had been. A lump formed in her throat, one she tried to swallow back down. A few of the delinquents asked the other girl what had happened, but she appeared to be in shock, stuttering out that they 'didn't see them coming', that 'they came out of nowhere' and that 'there was so many of them'. Monroe, painfully, tore her gaze away from the material that hung down at the entrance of the dropship, that prevented her from seeing you, and, instead, directed it towards the girl. They made eye contact. The girl had already started crying silently, while Monroe's eyes had only just begun to sting as they welled up with unshed tears. The girl shook her head, mouthing an 'I'm sorry' to Monroe before she pushed passed the crowd of delinquents, with her hand covering her mouth, and her body shaking with quiet sobs—from both fear and sadness.

    The material from the dropship entrance rustled as the two boys, who helped you inside, had walked back out and down the ramp. One of the boys had bloodied hands, and the left-hand side of their shirt was stained red, while the other looked pale, like he wanted to throw up. Monroe, being sick and tired of the grip that Finn had not released on her arms, had yanked her arms away and made her way up the ramp of the dropship, refusing to make eye contact with either of the boys as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't help but aggressively slap the material out of her way as she made her way inside the dropship. Clarke, who had been by your side, and Octavia, who had been pressing a damp cloth to your face, looked up and offered sad smiles. Monroe looked between the two of them before her eyes glanced down at to your, now unconscious, body. A small, pained whining sound had made its way out of her mouth after climbing up from the back of her throat. Her body shook violently as she let out a loud, audible sob before stepping closer to your body.

    "The dagger was poisoned," Clarke spoke calmly and softly, trying to keep Monroe as composed as she could be, while also informing her of the situation.

    "Does that mean—?"

    "We had an antidote from the vials we got from the Grounder," Clarke interrupted Monroe before she could finish her sentence. "We had to use all of it."

    Monroe sniffed loudly, breathing out of her mouth as she looked down at your pale face. There was a thin layer of dirt and sweat that Octavia was cleaning off with the small balled up piece of cloth that she clutched tightly. Octavia looked up at Monroe and asked, "Do you want to take over? I can sort out the bullets instead."

    Monroe nodded silently and took the cloth from Octavia's outstretched hand, and took the spot that Octavia once sat in. "How long? Until we know it worked?" Monroe asked Clarke once Octavia was gone.

    "I'm not sure. Soon, hopefully. There's going to be a big scar…"

Zoe Monroe:

Monroe would probably shift slightly uncomfortably from her spot on the cushion on the floor while you braided her hair, it wasn't because she didn't want you to do it, but it was because her hair was so long that it took seemingly forever for you to do on your own. It had been a while since somebody had taken their time to do her hair, and she liked the feeling of the comb that you used untangling the small knots in her hair—after untangling the larger knots that is—especially the small knots hidden underneath all of her hair that slightly tugged at the nape of her neck. Whenever you would braid her hair, it would always be in the privacy of your own hut, with the flickering light from the candle flame bouncing off of the walls—which would sometimes lull her into falling asleep, especially when you were brushing her hair. When you finally finish braiding all of her hair, her head would slightly droop forwards and you would have to prevent yourself from laughing lightly while gently pulling her body back towards your own, holding her for a short while, or simply holding her for as long as she slept, shifting the two of both of you so you were both comfortable.

If Monroe was braiding your hair, she would try to be gentle, trying not to tug too much at your hair when she brushed or plaited your hair. Unlike when you do her hair in silence, because she was more often than not falling asleep, Monroe would probably ask you questions about other small intimate activities that Grounders do—considering as your culture was a stark difference to her own. Her arms would probably get tired quickly, considering as she probably didn't plait her hair on her own when she first came to Earth, but rather got some help—probably from Harper—so she would take a lot of breaks, which would end up causing the time it took her to do your hair to be the same as it was for you to do hers.

Anya:

Plaiting Anya's hair didn't take that long, especially as she didn't like to plait all of her hair, but rather small bits and pieces. She would hand you the small strands of fabric and feathers that you needed to plait into her hair, often fiddling with them in her hands before she did. Anya would sometimes try turning her head to talk to you, forgetting what it was that you were doing if she was invested in the topic of conversation, only for you to look at her with a pointed look that lasted only a few seconds before you ended up smiling and replying to her—causing you to spend more time on her hair than you both originally thought you would.

When Anya was plaiting your hair, it was one of the few times where you saw her smile as much as she did, or talk in a more softer tone of voice. She would plait a lot of smaller braids at the start before merging them together to make a larger plait from the top of your head down to the bottom. Her style would change a lot, depending on how much time the two of you actually had together, and whether she wanted to braid a lot of your hair or whether she wanted to only do some and leave the rest down as you did for her.

Commander Lexa:

Lexa's style was very unique compared to others. She would love to spend this intimate moment with you, usually breaking away from the facade she put up when she was around the other Grounders. Her voice wouldn't be as strong or as harsh as it was when she was outside of the room that you both shared, it would be soft and caring. While you braided her hair, she would probably be the one to initiate conversations between the two of you, as you often got lost in your own world while you did her hair—not that that was a problem, it was just that Lexa liked listening to you talk, especially if her days were busy and she didn't get to spend as much time with you as she wanted to. She would probably hold things for you while you plaited her hair and moved it into her usual style, or she would probably play with a strand of her hair that you wouldn't be using, plaiting it and un-plaiting it herself.

When Lexa did your hair, she would try to do a similar style to hers, obviously depending on how long your hair was. She would run her fingers through your hair a lot, or she would brush your hair longer than she needed to because she liked how soft it was, and how smoothly the brush went through it. As she plaited your hair, she would probably kiss your shoulder very softly, just taking in the moment she had with you while it lasted because you rarely got to spend a lot of time with her during these moments as she was always needed elsewhere.

Jasper Jordan:

Jasper had never really braided anyone hair before—he never had to, Monty never needed his hair braided, and Maya only ever had her hair down in the time that he knew her. When he met you, you had to show him how to do it, using small amounts of your hair at a time, which was what he was most comfortable with. He didn't want to hurt you, so he would be very delicate, sometimes telling you how much he liked your hair or how much he liked being able to do your hair.

Jasper would probably be shy to ask if you could braid his hair, when it was longer, of course. He would only ask when it was only the two of you, and it was only if he knew he wasn't going to be leaving the room for anything. He liked the way your fingers brushed through his hair and the feeling of you untangling some of the knots he had in his hair.

John Murphy:

Murphy didn't really get why you wanted him to plait your hair at first until either Emori or Echo made an offhanded comment about it. Murphy was surprisingly quick at learning and was also very good at braiding your hair—which was either something he was just good at, or the girls had taught him how to do some plaits after he asked once he understood why you wanted him to do it.

    The snarls and incoherent yelling came to a halt the moment your blade slashed through its throat, causing it to only gargle and drop to its knees, convulsing wildly for only a few seconds before its heavily-armoured body slumped forwards, face first, into the now blood-soaked pile of dry leaves. As you crouched down next to the body, Monroe let out a shuddered breath, backing up to the trunk of the tree while you eyed her, slowly wiping the blood off the blade on the fur that the Reaper was cloaked in. The area of the woods was now silent, only a few deep breaths and sniffs came from Monroe before you stood back up and tucked the knife back in the sheath by your hip. Thin trails of blood rolled down her cheeks and down her neck before being absorbed into the material of her coat and shirt. There was also a cut along her forehead, one on her chin, a few cuts and grazes on her hands, and her trousers were torn at her left thigh were the Reaper had managed to cut her, slightly deeper than her facial wounds.

    "Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, staring at the Reaper in fear, despite it being dead.

    "Well, I wasn't going to put a bloodied blade back into my sheath, it ruins the blade."

    "No," she shuddered at the lack of tone in your voice, or, perhaps, the small gust of wind that circulated in the area that you stood in, "I mean, why did you save me?"

    "He was dead the moment the Mountain Men made him into a mindless, numbed monster. You're still one of the living, sadly."

    "Are you going to kill me?"

    "If I wanted you dead, I would have let the Reaper finish you off before I killed it," you answered her, looking down at her leg before looking back up at her face. "You need to clean those wounds."

    "I'm fine," she replied quickly.

    "No, you're not. I may not like you, or your people, but Lexa is my Commander and she still holds an alliance with your people. You need to clean those wounds," you told her again. Monroe nodded faintly and slowly began to stand up, but she quickly leaned back against the tree with a sharp hiss, clutching her thigh. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tightly, while her teeth were gritted as she tried to get over the pain. With the slight roll of your eyes, you stepped over to her and placed her left arm around your shoulders.

    Quickly, Monroe opened her eyes and looked at you, panicked. "W-What are you doing?"

    "You need help to walk, so, I'm helping you. Are all of Skaikru this stupid?" Monroe stayed quiet and, instead, let some of her weight fall onto you and she limped forwards, letting you guide her through the woods and back to the safety of Polis, where you took her inside the building and up to your room where you would clean her wounds.

-

    The moment you placed Monroe down on the chair, she hissed and bit her bottom lip, whimpering quietly while you moved away and took off your armour and weapons, dropping them at the foot of your bed before you walked off to grab a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages. While you were out of Monroe's sight, she looked around your room, before looking to see what was on the table that she was sat next to. There was a small wooden box that caught her attention, which you noticed when you walked back into the room, pausing when you saw her pulling it closer to herself. Silently, you watched as she slowly opened it and frowned. Monroe gently reached into the box and pulled out a chunk of braided hair, that had a feather entwined in the slightly blonde strands. Her thumb softly ran along the hair before she put it back and pulled out a small, sheathed blade. Not wanting to waste any more time, you made your way over to the table and placed the bowl of water down.

    She jumped in shock and quickly put the blade back in the box, slamming the lid shut. "I-I'm sorry."

    "For what?" You replied once more with no noticeable tone in your voice, which seemed to unnerve her, while you placed the bandages down on the table and pulled a stool, that was at the side of the table, over to where you were standing, with your boot.

    Monroe paused for a moment, thinking over her words before she pushed the box back over to where it was before, noticing your eyes following the box before you looked back down to the bowl and dipped the piece of cloth in it. "Everything." She looked away from your face and to the bowl. "For the war, for Mount Weather, for Ton DC… for Anya." When she looked back up at your face, she expected some sort of reaction, but she found none. "Clarke mentioned that you two were close, family, even."

    "That's in the past now, it's time to get over it."

    "There's never a time to get over the death of someone you cared about, of someone that you loved. I get that your people have to pretend that none of it ever affects you, especially you and Lexa, but it's alright to be affected."

    "Allowing your emotions to control you gets you killed, haven't your people realised that?" You sat down on the stool and squeezed some of the water from the cloth.

    "I guess not," she mumbled, allowing you to clean the blood from her face, once she realised that you aren't likely to open up to her like she thought you would.

    There was a warmth that lingered in the air of your room in the bunker. It was paired with the heavy breathing of Marcus and yourself as you both laid side-by-side, looking up at the ceiling. You could still feel your heart thumping quickly in your chest, the adrenaline still coursing through your system. The thin sheets on the bed were bunched up slightly from where your hands gripped the material to cover your body, despite what happened moments before, while the sheets only covered the lower half of his body. Marcus glanced over at you and a smile formed on his face. The sheets shifted as he moved to lay on his side, propping his head up with his left hand while his right hand gently moved some of your hair, that had been stuck to the sweat that covered your body just like his, from your face. At his touch, a similar smile, one that he couldn't help but fall for months ago, appeared on your face as you turned your gaze towards him.

    "I believe that that look on your face is the reason why we're in this position in the first place," he commented, grinning to himself when a deep red colour flushed your cheeks, more so than they already were.

    "No, I believe that the looks you gave me four months ago started this."

    "Ah, yes, blame me," he replied cheekily.

    "I wouldn't necessarily use the word 'blame', nothing bad came out of it."

1. AGREEING TO STAY

DAY: FOURTEEN

    The merger wasn't something you were one hundred per cent on board with. Sure, in the long run, it was probably a good idea, but right now? You absolutely hated it. The group that you were a part of, before the merger, mainly consisted of older people, no one younger than twenty, but also no one older than forty. You liked it that way because it meant that if your group was ever attacked by a horde of zombies—or 'Z's' as your group dubbed them—you would just get up and run, it wouldn't matter who you left behind to die. They all claimed to know a lot about the apocalypse and how to survive, so it would have been on them if they couldn't. That was your mentality. But, since joining Bellamy's group, that way of thinking had to change. He had children in his group, two or three of them couldn't have been older than eight or nine and most of them weren't older than twenty. It was a big change. Not only that, but his group didn't survive the same way yours did. While your group tried finding a way up north, to a colder climate, that the Z's moved away from, his group was just going anywhere that looked abandoned and 'safe'. It wasn't something you were planning on, but you had to stay, even for just a little while longer, just long enough to try and convince Bellamy to have an actual plan. You had to think about the children. After that, you'd be gone.

    A few of Bellamy's members, including the youngest ones, had told you that they wanted to follow you, that they wanted you to be their leader instead. They only told you that because they saw that you were packing up the few items you had with you to leave with. You wanted to leave the merger because you knew that finding a safe place was better than what the merger was already doing. The plan was to head north, raid any shops along the way for supplies, maybe find a place to stay for a few days to rest before you headed back on your journey up north to where the snow would be. Most animals and living creatures (including some people) would have wanted to avoid the cold, so they would have moved away. This would mean that, if you were to head north, granted food might be a bit difficult to find, the Z's would have more difficulty finding food, especially as they moved slower in the cold, and as there wouldn't be as many people. Some people, who were too stubborn for their own good, would have either followed the animals south, because living on tinned beans was too much, or they would have stayed behind and died from not eating. Which would mean that there would still be rations of food and supplies up north to survive on. The rest of the animals would head south, towards the warmer climate, which would mean that the Z's would have some kind of food to eat before they completely perished—because they do need brains to keep going.

    That was the plan anyway. Until one of the members of Bellamy's group, who wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to leave with you or not, somehow managed to convince you to stay, even if it was just for a little while: "Look, I know Bellamy is a hardass, and, quite frankly, a dumbass half of the time, and you don't actually like most of the people from your group or mine, but we need you here. You're good for us, you're good for the kids, and believe it or not, you're good for Bellamy."

    "What do you mean by that?" You asked as you placed your bag back down on the ground, looking up at him in confusion.

    "Ever since the merger, Bellamy hasn't been as reckless as he used to be. Before the merger, he wouldn't have cared if one of us had taken some ammo and grabbed a gun to go shoot at things. He wouldn't have even cared that we'd sometimes just go out to shoot at cans. He wouldn't have cared if we wasted ammo or drew attention to ourselves. But now, since the merger, he does care."

    "But that's not explaining why I'm good for Bellamy, that's just explaining why the merger was good."

    The boy looked behind himself, not wanting anyone to overhear him. "I know that it was your leader who told him that he needed to start thinking more, but I also know that you were the one to come up with the idea to begin with."

    "How?"

    He shrugged. "One of the slightly younger boys in your group was boasting about you. You know, the one with really red hair." That would be Fabian, the guy who was only a month older than you but seemed to believe that it made all the difference in the world when it came to knowing the ins and outs of the apocalypse, when, in fact, he still barely knew how to tie his own shoelaces.

    "Yeah? Well, he's an idiot."

    "Doesn't change the fact that you know how to survive and you can help us survive. I know Bellamy doesn't listen to you, but your group does, and so do some of us. As long as Bellamy doesn't know who or where we get our information from, where we get our good ideas from, you can be the one who helps us survive this crap."

    "So, you want me to be an invisible leader?" You arched an eyebrow, thinking that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. It would give you the opportunity to persuade Bellamy to change his downright godawful plan of not moving north for the better part of keeping his group alive.

    The boy gave a lopsided smile as he looked down at you. "If that's how you want to see yourself, then sure. Whatever you say, Boss." He shrugged his shoulders as he spoke.

    "Don't call me that." You shook your head and he smirked.

    "Roger that, Captain." The boy gave a mock salute and you laughed, pushing him away from yourself slightly.

    "Shut up, and try not to expose our secret."

    "Yes, Ma'am." He nodded his head and laughed lightly, backing away before anyone got suspicious as to where he had gone off to.

2. KNOWING

DAY: EIGHTEEN

    After that rather odd encounter with the boy from Bellamy's group four days ago, you had been suggesting some helpful ideas for a few of the older ones to give to Bellamy. Which was working well enough as Bellamy didn't seem to feel the need to ask how they were coming up with the ideas when they never did before. Most of the ideas consisted of creating lookout groups, building some sort of safety wall around the current camp, that would easily be moved for the next camp location, and making sure to travel in pairs or slightly larger groups—to ensure that they had at least some chance of getting out of a bad situation if it ever arose while out looking for rations or potential weapons. There were some members of the merger who openly listened to you, instead of listening to Bellamy, who was the main leader of the merger, which could have been because you were, somehow, their maternal figure that they had lost. Or, it could have also been because you actually listened to their ideas and tried incorporating them into your own before you got the older ones to relay it over to Bellamy.

    There were times, during the day, when you had noticed Bellamy looking over at you intensely, which made you wonder if he knew your secret, and there were other times when Murphy, the boy who convinced you to stay, would tell you that Bellamy was watching you, if you didn't already know. If Bellamy did, in fact, know, then he was probably trying to find something about you that he could use to get you kicked out of the group. Maybe it was the way you trained, the way you spoke, the way you acted, or something else entirely, but whatever it was, he was bound to find it, that much you knew for sure. It was often when you were helping some of the members train with knives and other quieter weapons that you could find, rather than guns, that you would see Bellamy watching. Murphy would sometimes make a loud, unnecessary comment around you just to see how Bellamy would react. Which would usually be his shoulders tensing, his jaw clenching, his eyes glaring, and his body turning to leave. Murphy would laugh once Bellamy was out of sight and look over at you with a grin, feeling proud of himself.

    "You can't keep doing that, Murphy," you told him while rolling your eyes, your own smile growing on your face at his childishness.

    "I can't?"

    You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "What could you possibly get out of making him stressed?"

    "Aside from stressing him out? The feeling of knowing I'm right."

    "About?"

    "Everything."

    "Cocky," you laughed, shaking your head at him.

    "Oh, I am. I've even got a great one."

    "Okay!" You spoke loudly, moving away from the twelve-year-old that you were helping train use knives, patting their upper arms to let them know that you thought they were doing a good job, which was something that you never imagined yourself doing, but it was all about survival now. Murphy snorted a laugh and followed you. "You can't say shit like that around the kids!"

    "They've been through worse." He waved you off. "You should have heard what some of the older girls used to scream at night when Bellamy was with them. My comment was child-friendly, theirs usually weren't."

    "You're unbelievable." You shook your head with a look of amazement on your face.

    "I'm your best friend," he corrected you.

    You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head. "Says who?"

    "Me… and I'm right about everything, remember?"

    "I've only known you for four days?"

    "Time is nothing but an illusion," he spoke in a fake old man's voice.

    With the roll of your eyes, you mumbled back, "Whatever."

3. NEW ROLE

DAY: TWENTY-ONE

    A few nights after that interesting conversation, while most people who weren't on watch were sitting around the small fire eating dinner, Murphy had sat down next to you, scooping the beans out of the tin with his knife. You watched him with a slightly disgusted face, no longer eating your own food because your appetite had left you. He had killed a Z with that knife a day ago, granted he washed it, but the fact still remained that it was his killing knife, and now apparently his dinner one too. Murphy looked over to you and laughed at your expression. Most of the children, who were still awake, were eating, and a few older members of the merger were sitting around as well, which included both group leaders, despite Bellamy being the main, and one of the older men, Lloyd, from your old group—who had watched you kill four living people and two undead with a machete after a trade went bad a few months ago before the merger.

    Your attention was taken away from Murphy when one of the youngest, who was about nine or so, walked up to you and patted your arm. "Mum?"

    From the corner of your eye, you saw your leader, Mitch, and Lloyd freeze. They turned to face you, staring in concern, which, in turn, concerned Bellamy and a few others, who quietly asked what was wrong. Mitch answered back quietly enough for you to pick up on, although the child and Murphy apparently did not, "She once strangled a girl to death for looking at her in the wrong way. What do you think she's going to do now that a kid has called her something that she's not?" After that, his voice got too quiet to hear. Bellamy only smirked because he knew that if you snapped and killed the child, then no one would listen to you and he would be in complete charge again. However, it also meant that you would probably be kicked out and he didn't exactly like some of the members of your group who only listened to him because you told them to, so he was conflicted.

    "Yeah? What's up? You need something?" You arched an eyebrow.

    "Are you going to finish that? I'm still hungry and Georgie took some of mine." The boy pointed to George, the other boy with his front two teeth missing while looking at you.

    A few members of your old group blinked and stared in shock, not expecting you to be okay with it. You passed the plate over to him and he smiled, taking it before he walked back over to his friend. Murphy nudged your shoulder. "That was weird, don't you think?"

    Truth was, when you were younger, before the apocalypse, you never imagined yourself as a mother, let alone a maternal figure for anyone, it just never really seemed to be on your mind, it never really interested you. But, at some point during the merger, that you had technically been a part of for twenty-one days, you ended up being that maternal figure for some of the younger members of Bellamy's group. A role that you tried taking seriously because you knew they were scared and needed someone, anyone, to tell them that they were going to be okay, that they weren't alone, and that it was okay to be scared. It was probably bound to happen to you at some point anyway, considering as most of the older girls in Bellamy's group couldn't care less about anyone besides themselves, all they wanted to do was sleep with Bellamy—some even tried sleeping with a few of your original group's members—while the two other women from your group, who had no children before the apocalypse, seemed to be disgusted with the younger members, so they were out of the competition. Even though it wasn't a competition, you weren't even trying.

    You looked over to him, rolling your eyes. "Shut up, Murphy."

    "Yes, Mum," he mumbled with a smirk, continuing to eat his dinner with his knife.

4. FEELING NOTHING

DAY: TWENTY-THREE

    Two days after the dinner, and the accidental name calling, Bellamy decided it was time for the group to keep moving, to change campsite locations. That idea was something you could get behind, especially as the group was slowly making its way up north, rather than going further south or just to the side. The idea also might have been because of a few persuasive words you had given Mitch, who then passed them onto Bellamy—who was none the wiser to the fact that it was your idea. During the move, Murphy was by your side, holding his gun tightly in his hands while his shoulders were tensed up. Bellamy was closer up to the front of the group, with a map in his hands that had the route already planned out in a red coloured pen mark, while Mitch stayed closer to the back—taking on the strategy that a leader of a pack of wolves would have, which seemed to be working anyway, despite the fact that you weren't wolves. Most of the younger members were in the middle, closed in by those who knew how to use the weapons, which mainly consisted of all the members of your old group, and only a few of Bellamy's.

    "How far do you think Bellamy will take us?" Murphy asked quietly.

    "Not as far as I would go, but that's just because he's trying to be cautious."

    Murphy scrunched his face up and scoffed through his nose. "Since when are you on the 'Bellamy Blake defence squad'?"

    You laughed quietly. "Since we started heading north."

    "We are?"

    "Yes. We shifted directions a while ago, and I can tell that we have from the placement of the sun."

    "My god, could you be any more of a loser?"

    "Yeah, I mean, I could make a sundial and tell you the exact time."

    "Jesus Christ," he muttered, shaking his head while grinning.

    "You asked."

    "I didn't think you would deliver."

    With a shrug, you laughed. "I always—"

    A loud, shrieking, scream cut you off and you turned to look behind yourself, as did Murphy. One of the girls from Bellamy's group, who you had seen leave his tent early in the morning three days ago, was trying to push a Z away from her. She had been one of the girls who had had a gun before the merger, so you assumed she knew what she was doing, that she could protect herself, but her gun was on the ground, with the safety still on. It bit into her hand as she, stupidly, tried pushing its face away from her. After finally realising what was happening in the situation, Murphy shot the Z in the head and it dropped to the ground while the girl cried and cradled her hand to her chest, slowly turning to face the group. The members from your old group lifted their weapons up to make sure no other Z got close to the group, if there were any more Z's around, that is. Bellamy suddenly appeared beside you, wondering what the yelling was about, and he stared at the girl. His expression was the same as it always was: empty. He didn't even flinch when he raised his own gun, ignoring the girl's whimpering and pleading, and shot her right between her eyes. Bellamy didn't even bother staying behind to watch as his previous group member's head was knocked back from the force of the blow or as her body fell to the ground in a heap. The dull thud of her body hitting the ground sent a shiver down your spine.

    "Someone pick up the gun and let's keep moving," he ordered.

    "Bellamy!" You called back, turning around to face him, still in shock. "Shouldn't we move her? Give her a burial or something? Are we just going to leave her out here like she's nothing?"

    He turned back around to face you, shaking his head as he scoffed. "What do you expect me to do? Cry over her lack of survival skills? It's not my fault she got herself killed."

    It then clicked with you that he didn't even recognise her. He didn't even remember the girl he had slept with. Bellamy didn't even bother remembering her name. She was just another dead person to him. He didn't care. Bellamy stared at you for a few more seconds before he turned back around and kept moving. The rest of the group was still in shock, but followed behind him, slowly, nonetheless. Murphy let out a deep sigh, shaking his head before he placed his hand on your back and pushed you forward a bit so you could both keep walking together. One of your old group members, Wyatt, picked up the gun and clicked the safety off, handing it to one of the boys from Bellamy's group, who was crying and holding the gun with shaky hands.

5. CHANGE IS GOOD

DAY: THIRTY-ONE

    Only eight days had passed since Bellamy killed the girl. The group had moved camp twice since then. It also had only been over a week since the little boy, Lewis, had called you 'Mum', and since then, others had started to do it as well. It had become a normal thing, something that you didn't think twice about anymore. Murphy often did it as a joke, but only when it was the two of you hanging out together, he didn't want to mess up his reputation—whatever reputation he claimed that was. You did notice, however, that whenever it happened, and Bellamy was around, Bellamy would roll his eyes and shake his head, thinking that it was stupid. There were even times when you would hear him scoff to himself when he overheard one of the members call you mum. You never let his attitude get to you, after all, it didn't concern him—apparently, nothing did. If the younger members of the merger felt better, safer, or even happier, calling you their 'mum' or at least seeing you as their maternal figure, then you were going to let them. They were children, they shouldn't have to grow up desensitised or feeling numb, even if it was the apocalypse.

    "So," Murphy started to talk once he walked up to you, while you were helping set up small tents in the new campsite, "how does it feel knowing you're a mother to about twenty people?"

    You stopped what you were doing, and stared at the tent material. "Is that a genuine question or are you being a piece of shit?" You turned to look at him, still upset that you couldn't give the eighteen-year-old girl the proper burial that she deserved. He had his hands in his pocket and shrugged, moving over to help you.

    "Genuine, I guess."

    "Weird," you answered truthfully, continuing to set the tent up, now with Murphy's help, while glancing at a few of the others who helped set up the other tents. "I can barely remember my own mother, so I have no idea if I'm doing it right."

    "I'd say you are."

    "No offence, but your opinion on this matter means nothing to me."

    Murphy laughed quietly. "I know, it's fine, I don't take offence to that." He shook his head and turned to look at you. "If you really want to know if you're doing something right, then you should probably know that the number of children who have had nightmares and have woken up screaming has gone down, by, like, a lot."

    "Really?"

    "Yeah." He nodded. "Before the merger, if one of the kids was scared, Bellamy would just brush them off and tell them to get over it. You, on the other hand, talk to them about it and comfort them, you don't leave them until they've stopped crying and have calmed down."

    "I didn't know that," you spoke softly and slowly, being slightly shocked at what Murphy had told you. You stood up straighter, letting the material of the tent fall from your hands. Murphy did the same.

    "Well, you've only been with us for thirty-one days, and I did tell you that you were good for us."

    "Yeah, you did," your voice still sounded distant as you took it all in.

    "And I'm always right."

    You snapped out of your daze and replied in your normal tone of voice, "You were wrong to eat your beans with your killing knife, you threw up like five times after that."

    "Okay, let's move on from that, shall we? You bring that up a lot."

    "I have to remind you of your stupidity so you don't get lost in the clouds while you're on your high horse, the air is thin up there, you have to be careful," you jested. Murphy snorted a laugh and nudged you, shaking his head while he finished putting up the rest of the tent.

    "Whatever. But I am right that you're good for us, this change is good. Without you, Bellamy would have sent us burning into the ground long ago. We would have probably been down in double-digit numbers if it wasn't for you, as well. You keep us safe and alive. We need you."

    "We shouldn't be losing anyone, even in single digit numbers. Besides, Bellamy isn't that bad, Murphy."

    "Ever since his sister died, he has been."

    "H-He had a sister?"

    "Yeah, Octavia. She died a few years ago, I think she was bitten by a Z. Since then, he's never cared who has lived or died, he only cares about himself."

    You were about to make another comment when you heard something being thrown down to the ground. It was the sound of metal tent pegs dropping and landing in a heap on the grass. Both of you turned to look towards your right, towards the others who were setting up the tents, who had also heard the noise and turned to look for themselves, and you saw Bellamy straighten up and clench his jaw. Murphy swore under his breath and you both watched Bellamy walk away. None of the others knew why he had gone off so suddenly, which was probably for the best.

    "Fuck, I—"

    "I'll talk to him," you told Murphy, patting his arm. "Just help finish up here."

6. AN EXPLANATION

DAY: THIRTY-ONE

    When you walked away to find Bellamy, trying not to look panicked as you didn't want to freak anyone out, you knew that he would probably yell at you and tell you to leave him alone. It was expected, he had just overheard someone talk about his sister, his dead sister, like it was nothing, but he needed to know that he wasn't going to have to grieve alone. You also realised that it couldn't have been easy on him, killing the girl, especially if it brought up any memories of his sister. By the time you did find him, it had got darker, and you knew that most of the merger members would be having dinner or getting ready for bed. Bellamy was in his own tent when you finally found him. It was the first place you looked, but you guessed that he had only just returned to it, he might have been at target practice before, trying to get his mind off of things. Or, perhaps, he was occupying his mind some other kind of way with someone else.

    His back was turned to you when you walked in and he was sitting on his sleeping bag. "Bellamy," you spoke softly, staying close to the entrance, not wanting to overstep the boundaries.

    "Go away," his voice was hoarse.

    With a quiet sigh, you shook your head, despite knowing he couldn't see you do that. "You know I can't."

    "Why? I told you to leave, so leave."

    "Not until you talk to me. It's not good to bottle things up. You don't have to be alone."

    He sniffed. "Just get out."

    "Not until you tell me about what happened out there. Not until you open up about what happened with—"

    "No."

    "Bellamy—"

    "I said no!" He yelled, standing up to face you. "Don't you ever talk about her! Just get out." He wasn't yelling as much as you thought he would have been, you also expected him to be physically violent, but he hadn't touched you at all.

    "I'm not leaving you like this," you told him, offering him a kind smile while slowly walking over to gently wipe away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks.

    He stared down at you, letting you wipe the tears before he moved away from you quickly, almost recoiling from your touch, as if you had burned him. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I—"

    "You can talk to me, Bellamy, you can talk to me and it will just be between us."

    "I… She—" He stopped himself.

    "She what?"

    Bellamy shook his head and sat back down on his sleeping bag. Hesitantly, you moved over to sit by him, but not extremely close, just close enough to let him know you were there. "She wasn't meant to be there," he admitted, closing his eyes as he sighed. "You know what? I shouldn't be telling you this."

    "You have to tell someone, why not the 'Camp Mum'?"

    "I can't believe you let people call you that."

    "They're scared, they need someone. Most children's instincts are to find their mum when they're scared, and I'm guessing that none of them have their real mother anymore. So, if I can be the one to make them feel safer, then who am I to take that away from them?"

    He looked over to you before quickly looking away. "She was just a kid," he started to explain, looking at the floor of his tent. "I was meant to be looking after her because I was her big brother. We were meant to be inside the camp, but she wanted to see the stupid flowers. Most of the plants around our old camp were just weeds, but these ones were real flowers. I don't know what they were, but they weren't weeds. I didn't want to be out there, so I wasn't paying as much attention to her, as I was to making sure none of our other group members found us and told us off. I only had my back turned for a second before I heard her scream and cry. When I turned back to look at her, a Z had already bitten into her shoulder while another was biting her arm. There was nothing I could do to save her, there's no cure… I couldn't do anything to save her. But I knew I could stop her from being one of them. Octavia never wanted to be one of them. I lifted my gun up and I—"

    "You saved her, Bellamy," you told him. Murphy never said how she had died so you assumed that he didn't know the full story or what Bellamy had been through. He didn't know that to Bellamy, killing that girl must have been like he was reliving the death of Octavia all over again. "You saved her from becoming the monster that she didn't want to become." You couldn't blame him for his actions or behaviour. He had to kill his own sister. If you had to kill your own sibling, knowing that they were watching you, knowing that they knew you would be the one to kill them, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself after that either. "You're not a bad person."

    "I'm not safe for anyone here."

    "You've got them this far, Bellamy. I'd say that you are."

    "They don't trust me in the same way that they trust you."

    "Then earn their trust. Be someone they can turn to."

    "How?" He asked, watching you stand up to leave.

    "By being their leader."

7. DIFFERENT

DAY: THIRTY-EIGHT

    Only another week had passed, yet a lot had happened in that one week. After finding out what really happened to Bellamy's sister, and telling him that it wasn't his fault, he wasn't as cold to you as he was before. The scoffing at the nickname had stopped, the glaring had stopped, and instead, he was trying to be a better leader. He knew that his secret was safe with you, especially after he heard you tell Murphy to knock it off with the questioning. Of course, Murphy was grouchy about not knowing what happened, but he got over it after three days. The weather was getting colder, especially as Bellamy had moved camp again, so it meant that more groups had to go out and find supplies to keep the rest of the group warm. The group had only moved once during the week, and the further north you got, the more abandoned the buildings had become, which meant that there were more rations to find—which was a good thing because it meant that people didn't have to ration the rations like before.

    While you had been sitting in one of the larger tents that were used for holding weapons and rations, Murphy was off catching up on his lost sleep after his guard duty from a few hours ago. This meant that you were left alone to try and plan the next trip ahead. There was a small table set up in the tent, with a faded map and a few pencils, with one red pen in the mix. Mitch had asked you to set up a route because it was what you had done for your old group before the merger and you were good at it, and then, when you were done, he would give it to Bellamy without telling him that it was your idea. That was the original plan, but since Bellamy was no longer avoiding you like you were the zombie plague, it had been a bit more difficult to keep the secret from him. It was also a lot more difficult to keep the secret from him when he cleared his throat from behind you, looking over your shoulder.

    "Ah, shit!" You yelled, holding your hand to your chest as your heart thumped quickly.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Looking at a map."

    "Why?" He raised an eyebrow with his hands behind his back.

    "I like maps."

    "Okay… but can't you admire a map without drawing on it?"

    "I could, but I really like maps."

    Bellamy sighed, tilting his head at you. "What are you really doing?"

    "If I tell you, you'll get mad."

    "Oh, really?"

    "Umm…"

    He lightly hit your arm with the back of his hand. "We're friends, you can tell me."

    "We are? Or are you just saying that to trick me?"

    A small smile grew on Bellamy's face as he laughed a little. "We're friends. Just tell me what you're doing."

    "Mitch wanted me to plan the next trip to the new campsite."

    "Oh."

    "'Oh'? Bellamy, what does that mean?"

    He looked at the map. "It means… 'oh'."

    "You're mad."

    "No. I'm not mad." He shook his head, staring at the map still, instead of you. "How many times have you done this?"

    "Every single time." You winced, not looking at him in his eyes this time.

    "Really? Why did Mitch tell me that he did it? Why didn't he give you the credit?"

    Your eyebrows furrowed together, not expecting that. "The… What?"

    "Did you think I'd be angry at you for planning our trips?" He asked and you looked at him, making him look at you as well.

    "Well, I didn't think you really liked me all that much, so…"

    "I didn't, in the beginning. But we're friends. I can't be mad at you for making the routes that are keeping our group alive and safe."

    "So, you're not mad?"

    Bellamy shook his head. "No. Just tell me when you've finished the route." Bellamy offered you a smile before he turned around and walked out of the tent.

    "What just happened?”

8. NOT THE ONLY ONE

DAY: THIRTY-EIGHT

    It was almost the middle of the night, and most of the younger members were asleep, but you and a few of the older members were still awake, sitting around a small fire, unable to sleep yourselves. Murphy was sharpening his knife, quietly talking to you about how training was going, as he was also helping train some of the members of the group, along with Lloyd and Wyatt, while you were sorting the ammo out, evenly distributing it into the small boxes.

    "Fabian is absolutely hopeless. He couldn't hit the target even if it was directly in front of him and guiding his knife towards itself for him. I get what you mean when you say he's an idiot," Murphy mumbled.

    "Three months ago, he almost shot himself in the leg cleaning a loaded gun," you told him.

    "Jesus, he's a walking disaster. I feel sorry for his mother for giving birth to the world’s biggest mistake."

    "Amen to that, 'Johnny boy'."

    "You heard him call me that?"

    "It was the highlight of my day."

    "I hate him," Murphy hissed bitterly.

    The tent, just over on the right of you and Murphy, rustled, and a little girl, who had matted hair and pale skin, walked out and rubbed her eyes. You slowed down what you were doing, waiting for her to waddle over to you for something, and you smiled softly, knowing that it would be more calming for the girl to see that than a blank expression. But, instead, she moved over to Bellamy, who was closer to her tent and who also had his back to her while he was cleaning his gun. She nudged his back. "Papa?" He tensed up at her small voice and turned to look at the girl, an eyebrow raised and a frown on his face.

    Silently, you stopped separating the bullets and watched. Murphy also stopped talking and watched, his eyes flickering between the two of them, occasionally looking at you. Bellamy, not knowing what to do, cleared his throat and glanced away quickly, catching sight of your expression before he looked back and sat up straighter. "Uh, yeah, kid? Can I help you?" He asked her, sounding rather awkward and slightly aggressive.

    The little girl began to talk softly to Bellamy, so you could no longer hear her. You looked back down at the ammo, with a small smile on your face, and shook your head with a quiet laugh. Murphy nudged your arm, leaning over to whisper, "Does that mean I have to start calling him 'Daddy' now?"

    "Shut up, Murphy," you responded, no longer smiling, but instead pulling a slightly disgusted face.

    Murphy laughed to himself, sharpening his knife once more. "Yes, Mum."

9. MAKE LIGHT

DAY: FORTY-FIVE

    Ever since that night, you made it your mission to joke about it to Bellamy. Murphy did too, but it was only when you were in a big crowd surrounded by the younger members of the merger, and it was purely just to annoy Bellamy, considering as Murphy still didn't like him very much. The other members of the merger now started to call Bellamy 'Dad' as well as calling you 'Mum', much to Bellamy's annoyance. Whenever the group would be moving camp, slowly making their way up north as you had hoped, you would catch up to Bellamy with a smirk and make a comment, most of the time it ranged from: 'Babe, our kids are wondering when we're going to stop for a break.' To, 'Our son says he's out of ammo, you got any more?'. At first, Bellamy would rarely find the humour in your comments, because he never saw himself as the father figure to the group, but there were times when you would find yourself talking about the members like they were your children without realising it, and he would end up smiling, even if you were yelling at him for being rude.

    "All I'm saying is that you don't have to be so aggressive when talking to Georgie and Lew. They're some of the youngest in our group and they don't fully understand why you sound so angry with them when they ask if they could sit down for a little while," you told him as the two of you walked slightly ahead of the group.

    Bellamy sighed and shook his head. "I'm like that because it's almost dark soon and we haven't got to the checkpoint yet," he answered, showing you the map you had been working on.

    "I know what the map says, Bell. I know it better than anyone else."

    "Then you know that we have to make it to the checkpoint before anyone can rest, that includes the boys." Bellamy had wanted the group to move again, just before it got too dark to move safely. The journey up north might have been better in the long run, but that didn't mean the journey was going to be smooth sailing. It got darker much earlier than it did down south, and with the lack of light, it meant that the heat from the sun didn't last as long, so it became colder much earlier too, and the cold meant slower movements when it came to travelling. "We can't always baby them, you know that." Bellamy looked down at you before looking ahead of himself again, occasionally glancing down at the map. "They have to grow up sometime."

    "I know, but, right now, my kids don't need to be scared of their leader. Not for another few years at least, just wait until they can really understand right from wrong."

    There was a small smile that made its way to Bellamy's face as he looked at the map and then back up to the path. "Right," he commented.

    "What?" You asked, knowing he wasn't saying everything he wanted to, you could somehow hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "What is it?"

    "Nothing."

    "I call you out on your bullshit, Bellamy. Tell me."

    "It's nothing, I promise."

    "If it's nothing then it shouldn't be a problem for you to tell me what's on your mind."

    He shook his head and laughed lightly. "I just like the fact that you take your role seriously. You know, being their mother."

    "Why wouldn't I?"

    He shrugged. "Never pegged you as the type when you first joined the merger."

    "I never pegged you as the type of guy who would have more than one facial expression when I first joined the merger either, but here we are. All you did was frown and glare," you told him while trying to imitate his expression.

    "I don't look like that," he argued.

    You laughed. "Umm, yeah, you do."

    "No, I… I smile," he tried to sound convincing, but ultimately failed.

    "Yeah, after killing Z's and watching Murphy throw up."

    Bellamy rolled his eyes. "I smile at more things than that."

    "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

    "Well…" Bellamy had started but quickly looked back down to the map to avoid answering you.

    "Really?" You laughed at his behaviour. "My apocalyptic husband is an idiot," you mumbled with a smile, shaking your head before you quickly glanced behind yourself to check on the others. George and Lewis were walking behind the two of you, holding hands, while looking exhausted. You turned back to Bellamy and saw him quickly look away from you, something that you decided not to comment on, but rather ignore and hope it was nothing. "On behalf of our sons, are we there yet?"

    "You tell me, Anaximander."

    "I'm not a map maker! Stop calling me that! You've called me that ever since you found out I've been the mapper."

    Bellamy laughed quietly to himself. "Whatever," he mumbled. "We are almost there, just another mile to go."

    You looked back to the boys. "Almost there, just hang on for a little while longer. Can you do that?" George and Lewis nodded their heads and you smiled. "You guys are doing great." When you turned back to the front and looked over at Bellamy, you rolled your eyes at his knowing smile. "Oh, shut up."

10. GOSSIP

DAY: FIFTY

    Murphy was laying down on your sleeping bag in your tent while you scanned over the map again. He had found a dirty tennis ball on the ground once the group got to the checkpoint and he had kept it with himself ever since, making sure to hide it from the younger members of the group—he claimed that he wouldn't have seen it again if he gave it to them to play with and he needed it to keep himself sane. He was filling you in on what his journey was like, considering as you had been up at the front with Bellamy to make sure he was reading the map directions clearly, while throwing the ball up in the air to catch. One of his most stressed points was that he hated travelling alone, mainly because he had to listen to some of the girls' gossip and some of the kids' weird lies that they claimed to be true—like seeing a zombie dog going on a walk with its zombie owner. You could only laugh at how annoyed Murphy sounded as he recalled the conversation he was forced into with one of the kids.

    "I swear to god, if I'm forced to listen to that kid one more time, I'm putting a gun in my mouth."

    "Kids just want to see the good in things, you know? They forget that their wild imaginations aren't believed by adults because they haven't lost their innocents about the world, even when the world has ended."

    "Yo, Socrates," Murphy called out, throwing the tennis ball at the side of your head, "shut up."

    You looked up from the map when the ball hit you on the side of your head. "Just sayin'."

    "Mmm, well… Oh, and another thing!—" You couldn't help but laugh at his excitement. He was acting like a small puppy, one who was deprived of any attention, that was finally seeing another dog for the first time. The 'another thing' that was apparently noteworthy, according to Murphy, was that Bellamy had stopped sleeping around with the girls from his group. This piece of information wouldn't have mattered that much to you before. But, for some reason, now, it did, and for some reason now you were happy about it. But you would have assumed that it was awkward for him now that the 'Dad' nickname stuck and it ruined any other variations of it for him. Maybe it was because, in the beginning, it was only a joke, but now, since it's become such a normal thing, something more real, it would just seem weird for him to sleep with someone who he might consider his apocalyptic child. "Crazy, right?" Murphy held his arms out, waiting for your response. "That man is a whore and I'm surprised he hasn't completely shrivelled up and died."

    You raised an eyebrow, noting how much he sounded like some of the girls from his group. "Why was this something you felt like I needed to know?"

    He shrugged. "Dunno."

    "Didn't you just say that you hated listening to gossip? Why are you starting it? Are you going to ask me to braid your hair next?"

    Murphy rolled onto his side to pick up the tennis ball. "I've been surrounded by too many teenaged girls, which wouldn't have been a problem to me before because—"

    "Move on!"

    "It's like a contagious disease," he whined. "I-I can't be alone next trip, I'm up at the front with you next time," he told you while pointing at you, making it clear that it wasn't a negotiation.

    "I'm sure Bellamy would like that."

    Murphy laughed to himself as he rolled back onto his back to throw the ball up again. "I think he will too." He nodded before yawning. "It's late, I'm going to go to bed," he said as he caught the ball and sat up. "I will see you in the morning, Mother. Bright and early!" He laughed to himself again as he left your tent, without giving you time to say goodbye to him.

    "Clearly that 'contagious disease' has messed with his head a lot more than he realises," you mumbled to yourself, looking back down at your map. "What a strange, strange boy."

11. PROGRESS

DAY: FIFTY-NINE

    Camp moved again. This time, instead of camping outside, Bellamy had noticed that there was a large building, just off to the side of the path your mapped-out route had been taking the group. He decided to scope the place out, with a few other appointed guards before setting camp up inside. Once the building was cleared, and a perimeter was set up outside to make sure no entrances were left vulnerable, everyone else moved inside. Bellamy stood beside you with a wide smile on his face, it was one of the very few real smiles he had had since you joined the merger almost two months ago. The building had two floors, the bottom one was mostly empty and looked like parts of the ground had been burnt, or whatever used to be inside was burnt. There were pieces of debris and random metal tables and chairs—Bellamy suggested that it could have been a workshop before the apocalypse as there were some tools left behind and random frameworks left too. But whatever it was, it was home for now. The upstairs was cleared and people moved their belonging up there to set up their sleeping bags.

    Without saying anything, you nodded over to Mitch, who nodded back. Mitch and Wyatt had moved some of the metal tables together near one of the walls of the building before moving one of the metal frameworks and a large piece of flat wood, with the help of Lloyd, over to the middle gap, in between the tables, and pressed it against the wall. At first, Bellamy seemed confused as to what they were doing, but he kept quiet when he saw that you understood what was happening. Wyatt collected a few of the tools from around the building, mostly clamps and parts that would hold things together, while you pulled out one of the larger maps and waited for Wyatt and Lloyd to attach the wood to the frame before you pined the map up against it, making a makeshift bulletin board. Mitch took out smaller maps and other pieces of equipment and placed them down on the metal tables. Soon, Bellamy realised that it was a small 'Base of Operations' area to plan out new routes and ration trips. Lloyd and Wyatt collected the boxes of ammo and spare guns to place underneath the tables or on top of them.

    "I know it's not the best," Mitch spoke with a slightly disappointed expression, "but we are working with what we've got."

    "No, no," Bellamy argued, thinking that it was a rather genius idea. "It's great. How'd you come up with this?"

    "You should thank your mapper for all of this, not me," Mitch replied, holding his hands up in defence.

    You turned around once you placed the last pin into the map. "I worked with the military before the world ended. We did this before the merger too."

    Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest with a light laugh. "So, that's why you were so good at mapping and training?"

    "It came in handy." You nodded in response.

    "I should have guessed sooner. Any more secrets you have hiding from me?"

    "One or two up my sleeves, but I'm sure you'll find out about them soon enough."

    Murphy walked up to the base of operations, fake gagging. "Get a room you two."

    "What do you need?" You asked with a laugh.

    "Lewis isn't feeling so good, he's asking for you."

    "Oh," you frowned, no longer laughing. "Is he upstairs?"

    Murphy nodded. "Yeah."

    "Okay, uhh." You turned to Mitch. "You good to finish setting up here?"

    Mitch nodded. "Yeah, go see your kid."

    Murphy led you upstairs to where Lewis was before he backed away, towards the top of the stairs, leaving you alone with him. You watched as Murphy pulled one of the metal chairs towards himself and sat down, facing you and Lewis, watching quietly in case you needed him for anything. Lewis was paler than usual and his temperature was higher than it should have been. His face looked sunken in, his eyes were surrounded by a dark reddish-purple bruise, and his lips were dried and cracked. You sat down next to him, opening up one of the water bottles and handed it over to him, wiping away the tears that he had rolling down his cheeks. Once he handed you the water bottle back, he rested his head against you, wrapping his small arms around your waist. Only one thought came to your mind as you poured some water on a small towel to press against his forehead and placed the water bottle back down on the ground slowly.

    "Lew," you asked softly, keeping the damp towel pressed against his skin.

    "Yeah, Mama?"

    "Were you bitten by anything before we got here?"

    "No, Mama."

    "Are you sure?" You asked softly again. He nodded his head and yawned. "Okay, get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

    "Okay," he mumbled back.

12. GONE

DAY: FIFTY-NINE

    A few hours had passed, probably two at the most, and you couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. Usually, where there was one, you'd find the other. Murphy had dozed off on the chair, holding his tennis ball in his right hand, so he didn't see your worried expression. Lewis had woken up ten minutes ago for the second time during his sleep and was finally drinking water, and eating some of the crackers that the last ration group had found—it was the only thing he could keep down. He threw up the food you tried to give him an hour ago. His temperature was still warm, but it wasn't as hot as before, but that could have just been because you kept a cold towel to his forehead.

    "Hey, Lew?" You looked down at him once he put the lid back on the water bottle.

    "Yeah?" He sniffed, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.

    An awful taste was lodged in your mouth as you swallowed and asked, "Where's Georgie? Didn't he want to come over to see how you were doing?"

    "He's outside." Lewis shrugged, picking up another cracker.

    "What-What do you mean? What do you mean he's outside?" It was getting harder to stay calm in front of him.

    "He wanted to play outside for a little bit before he came inside with all of us, I would have stayed with him but I was too tired."

    "Okay, thank you for telling me. I-I'm just going to go downstairs for a little while, but I will have Murphy over there take care of you. Okay?"

    "Okay." He nodded, unfazed by your words.

    You offered him a smile before you stood up and quickly made your way over to Murphy, hitting him awake. "What?" He sat up straighter.

    "Watch my kid, I will be back." You looked around the top floor to make sure no one was looking at you.

    "Why? What happened?"

    "I don't know. I will tell you as soon as I find out, okay?"

    "Roger that. Go," he ushered you off, standing up himself as he made his way over to Lewis, putting the tennis ball back into his pocket.

    Without looking back at them, you quickly made your way downstairs. While you had been gone, Mitch and the others had set up the tent material as a divider for the Base of Operations, holding the material up with the metal framework that was left lying around. You pushed through the dark green material and made your way over to one of the metal tables to grab a gun with shaky hands. Bellamy turned his body slightly away from the map to see who it was before he turned back to the map again when he saw it was you but quickly spun to face you again when he realised what you were doing. "Hey, hey, slow down." He stepped toward you and placed his hands on top of yours.

    You couldn't think straight, it felt like you were having a heart attack. "I can't, Bell. Not now."

    "What's going on?" Mitch asked.

    "Georgie."

    "What about George?" Lloyd tilted his head, he was sitting on top of one of the ammo boxes.

    "He's outside."

    "What?" Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

    "I asked Lewis where George was because I realised he hadn't been to visit Lewis, and he said he was outside playing. He never came in with us, he wanted to play outside. He's all alone out there and he's probably scared."

    "Okay, I'll go with you," Bellamy replied, trying to calm you down. "Just—"

    "H-How could I let this happen? They were right behind me! He was right behind me! How—?"

    "Hey!" Bellamy yelled, forcing you to stop and breathe, his hands were on your upper arms, keeping you from moving. "We will find him and bring him back. It's okay. Last perimeter check showed that no Z's were around, he's okay."

    With a shaky breath, you nodded and loaded the gun properly. Bellamy, Lloyd, and Wyatt followed you outside, making sure to close the door properly so no one else could follow the four of you. But you were sure that Mitch would have stopped them anyway if they tried to do so. As you stepped outside of the building, you could feel the cold wind. It was much colder than you expected it to be, so you had no doubt that George was freezing out there all alone. Wyatt handed you one of the small torches he had brought out and he pointed to the left, indicating that he would go look over there. Bellamy nudged you and pointed to the right, and Lloyd motioned towards the back of the building, leaving you to go straight ahead. As you stepped forwards, you held your gun up, pointing it out in front of you, in your right hand, while your left hand was underneath with the torch facing out in front of you. The wind blew loudly against the leaves of the trees, causing a loud rustling and howling sound to emit, which meant that you had to be careful as to where you stepped because you didn't know if George would run off and scream or not if he heard it.

    After a while, the wind died down, causing it to be almost too quiet outside as you walked around, bar the sound of your own heart beating wildly, and an unwelcome sense of fear crept up the back of your neck with a cold sweat. The temperature had dropped a few more degrees while you had been out, and your cheeks stung from the cold air as if they were being cut with tiny knives. Your hands had become stiff as your blood struggled to circulate in the cold weather. As you stepped forward once more—after being out for around twenty minutes—you felt the ground shift slightly under your boot and a slight metal squeak echoed dully. Slightly confused, you moved your foot to see what it was, you noticed a red sign with white writing once you shone the torch over it. The words: 'WARNING: DANGEROUS SITE. UNAUTHORISED ENTRY TO THIS SITE IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN.' were written on it, and next to it, slightly covered by dead leaves, there was a yellow sign with black writing that simply stated: 'DANGER: RADIATION.' with nothing else. As you bent down to look at the signs, to make sure you were actually reading them correctly, you heard twigs snapping to your left. Quickly, you turned to point the gun, aiming the torch to see what was out there with you. Wyatt had his hands up in defence, scrunching his face up as the light from the torch shone in his face, blinding him for a second, while Lloyd shook his head with a frown.

    "No luck," Lloyd commented, noticing the signs on the ground.

    "We found no footprints, no ripped pieces of clothing left on the low branches of trees, and we couldn't hear anything. Which means no Z's… or George." Wyatt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You?"

    "Nothing." You shook your head.

    "What about Bellamy?"

    You shrugged. "I don't know."

    Lloyd began to walk towards the direction Bellamy would have been in. "Let's find out."

    Wyatt placed his hand on your shoulder, glancing down at the signs you had been looking at. Wyatt remained quiet, like Lloyd had, when he looked back up at you. "We will find him. He's going to be fine." You nodded your head and turned to follow Lloyd. Wyatt was next to you, occasionally turning his weapon to the side, looking through the scope, before he turned back. "It's not your fault," Wyatt told you quietly. "None of this is your fault."

    "Can we just find Georgie and bring him back home without talking?"

    "Sure."

    A few meters in front of you, Lloyd stopped abruptly and lowered his weapon. "Lloyd?" You asked, moving to stand next to him on his right while looking at his face. "W—?" When you turned to see what he was looking at, you saw Bellamy against one of the trees, his back pressed up against the base of the trunk, with his hands resting on top of his knees. He was gripping his gun weakly and was quietly staring off into the space in front of himself. "Bellamy?" He didn't look up at you as you stepped closer to him, moving around Lloyd and to his left.

    It was then when you were able to see what Lloyd had seen from where he was standing, that you felt as if your heart had stopped beating altogether, breaking apart into small pieces after it froze with the weather outside. George was on the ground, behind the tree that Bellamy was leaning against, with the left side of his skull cracked in. His left eye was missing and you could see straight through his skull, right to the back of it. Half of his brain was missing. George's shirt was raised up slightly and you could see that his small intestines were spilling out onto the blood-soaked ground.

    "No." You shook your head. "No, no, no!" The gun and torch in your hand dropped to the ground as you walked over to him and fell to your knees, starting to shove his intestines back into his stomach, with shaky hands, as if it was going to bring him back. "No, no. C-C'mon, Georgie, no. N—" Your voice broke as you started to cry, no longer pushing his intestines back in but instead pulling his body up from the ground to cradle to your chest. Wyatt and Lloyd were too shocked to stop you, and Bellamy was still staring off. "Please, please come back. You're my baby, you can't die, you can't, you—" It felt as if your throat was closing up. "P-Please, Georgie, I'm—" His skin was ice cold as you placed your left hand to his right cheek, not caring that half of his face was missing.

    "We can bury him," Bellamy finally spoke up, his voice cracking as he did. "We will build him a casket, and we… we will bury him, headstone and all."

    "He's not—" Bellamy turned to face you as you shook your head. "Georgie, he's—"

    "He's gone. I'm sorry."

13. LAID TO REST

DAY: SIXTY-ONE

    Lewis didn't quite understand. He couldn't understand what happened to George. It didn't make sense that his best friend wasn't coming back. There would be no more sleepovers in the tents, there would be no more sharing food at dinner time, and there would be no more games to play. Lewis didn't quite understand why. He didn't know why George wasn't waking up, why George was so tired, why Mitch and Wyatt were making that small wooden box, or why George was covered in white tent material, all wrapped up, safe from the outside world. The white material had some previous stains from the mud from when it was used, but now it had darker brown stains, over where George's stomach and head was. Lloyd had been the one to wrap him up. Lewis didn't quite understand that either.

    When you had brought George's body back to the building two days ago, you had been holding his small body to your own, protectively, despite knowing you could no longer protect him. Lloyd had gone in first and told Mitch, who then when to get Murphy. Murphy had left Lewis with one of the other girls from his old group, who didn't mind all that much as Lewis was only sleeping, and he followed Mitch outside while Lloyd stayed inside. He didn't say anything when he saw you, he just frowned and asked Mitch what he should do to help. You didn't want to let him go, you just wanted to hold him, hoping that maybe he'd come back, that maybe it was all just a dream. But hope was pointless. Bellamy had been the one to pull George's body away from you, to hand George over to Lloyd, and he had been the one who held you as you cried throughout the night.

    Only a few people were allowed to attend the small burial, as only a few people actually knew who George was, despite being in his group from the start of the apocalypse. Murphy had been the one to dig the hole, you knew that because you had sat outside, silently, with him while he did, just staring at the gaping hole in the ground that only got bigger. Once George's small casket was lowered and buried underneath the soil, Mitch placed a small headstone down at the top, with George's name and years of birth to death carved into it.

    Murphy stepped to the headstone and pulled his tennis ball out, placing it down gently in front of it. "George can play with it, you know, when he gets to the better place. He can make some new friends with it. Lasts longer than flowers, so," Murphy's voice broke off into a whisper, no longer trusting his own voice to stay strong in front of the others. He stepped away from the grave and stood next to you, reaching out to hold your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze before he walked away, followed by a few of the others, leaving only you and Bellamy.

    "It's my fault," Bellamy admitted quietly as he stood next to you. "I was his leader. I was meant to protect him but I didn't. He looked up to me, they all looked up to me to protect them and… and I let him down, I let them all down."

    Bellamy sniffed, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve harshly, obviously hating himself for what happened. You shook your head and faced him, pulling him into a hug. "You couldn't have seen this coming, Bell. None of us could have," your voice was just as quiet as his was.

    "I'm sorry," he cried quietly, only allowing himself to show you his emotions in private now that the others had left. "I'm so sorry." He held onto you tightly.

    "It's going to be okay, Bell. He lived and died as a human. He never became a monster. It's going to be okay."

    "He was just a kid."

    "I know," you whispered, stroking his hair softly, no longer wanting him to feel the way he did.

    "He was our kid…"

    "I know."

14. STOCK

DAY: SEVENTY-FOUR

    It had been thirteen days since George's small funeral, and since then, Lewis had stopped asking about him. No one ever uttered his name. But people did make it a habit of visiting his grave, gently touching the headstone before they left to go look for rations, as if it was a good luck ritual—so, in a way, he wasn't forgotten. But you knew that that mistake would never be made again. More of the building had been explored, and by 'more of the building', it meant that Fabian had accidentally found a door to a basement when he was messing around with things he wasn't meant to be touching. Mitch made a note to yell at him after it was explored. The basement was much larger than the workshop floor and the second floor. It was also set out like a maze, with different hallways and doors, branching off from the main room.

    One area in the main room, that might have been underneath the Base of Operations, was sectioned off by a metal fence, one that you easily got through with two thin pieces of metal to pick the lock with. Whatever the building used to be, workshop or not, it was stocked with heavy artillery. There were about ten rows of shelves, five either side of a walkway space that was in the middle to walk to the other end of the room—not counting the shelves around the actual fence itself and the three other walls, bar one third of the wall at the other end of the room—that were stocked with guns and ammunition. Straight down the middle from the fence door, down towards the back wall, there were three large tables and as soon as you opened the door, you had no doubt that the Base of Operations would be moved down to that room. The rows looked like they hadn't been touched in years, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. Mitch and Wyatt stayed behind to make an inventory of what was there.

    Once you walked out of the artillery room and turned to your left, you could see two doors along the wall, along with two large windows that took up most of the wall from the floor to ceiling. The door, closest to the artillery room's metal-fenced wall, was a normal looking door, with a sign reading 'supplies' on the foggy window. The next door, that looked heavier and harder to open, was in the middle of two large windows that looked into a dark room. Bellamy had been standing by one of the windows, trying to look in, when you walked over to him. He glanced back at you and shrugged, pulling a face that suggested he had no idea what the room was.

    "Want to check it out?" You asked, trying to look in through the window as well.

    "After you," he replied, pulling the heavy door open to reveal a small glass chamber with another door just a meter in front of the first.

    "It's like a quarantine room chamber," you commented.

    "A what?"

    "A small chamber or room that doctors or scientists would be in, that separated the quarantine room from the rest of the building, where they would be blasted with air or something to kill any germs or bacteria to keep them safe," you replied with a shrug, glancing back at him as he closed the first door. "You couldn't open both doors at the same time, for safety reasons."

    There was a loud beep before a red light above both doors flashed on. Bellamy was about to say something before pressurised steam entered the chamber as blew into his face, causing him to cough. Once it stopped, the red lights turned green and the inner door buzzed, clicking open with a hiss as it opened slightly. You pushed the door open more, grunting at how heavy it was, and stepped into the dark room. As you did so, there was another sound of clinking before the overhead lights flickered on, lighting up the room. There were a few medical beds inside with carts pressed against some of the walls. Opposite the glass chamber, there was a large, two-door doorway with the words 'operating room' written on each door. Bellamy glanced over at you with an odd look on his face as he asked, "What the hell is this place?"

    With a shrug, you picked at the blanket on one of the beds. "Looks like someone would have been ready for the apocalypse, too bad they never got the chance to use it."

    "Too bad for them, good for us," Bellamy commented when he pulled a cart over to himself and opened one of the drawers to look inside. He closed the drawer and pushed the cart back, moving over to a cabinet that was close to one of the large windows. "Someone left the key on top of this thing." On either side of the walls of the small chamber, there were white cabinets and, what looked like, old defibrillators. "And they left medicine behind too."

    "This seems way too good to be true."

    "Wait, some of these have gone off. Some are just saline. This one is empty."

    You nodded your head, checking to see if any of the equipment still worked. "That's more likely." You pressed a bunch of buttons. "I'm not a doctor so I don't know how this works. Cassian might, I'll ask when he gets back from the trip."

    "Who knows, maybe this was just a warehouse used for army training simulations, you guys had them, right?"

    "We had logistic supply specialists, but they were more secure than these places, and the simulators that we used for real-life settings weren't like this, they might have been in the past, but it's twenty-one fifty-six now. My training was set for twenty-one fifty-four, two years ago, not the early twenty-first century," you replied as you walked over to stand beside him, looking into the cabinet with him.

    "Maybe someone made their own?" Bellamy suggested with a shrug. "Granted, by a seemingly more paranoid person."

    "Maybe…"

    Outside of the room, Murphy knocked on the window and held up a piece of paper that he wrote on: 'FOUND MEDICINE AND BLANKETS. LLOYD FOUND FOOD.'

    "Great," you spoke while holding your thumbs up at him. He smiled back and walked away. "I suppose this is as far north as we're going to get."

    "Guards haven't found any Z's around. Snow is starting to settle since it started four days ago." Bellamy moved away from the cabinet and sighed. "Looks like this is our home now."

    You frowned. "Should have been George's too."

    Bellamy smiled weakly and moved over to you, pulling you into a hug. "I know."

    "Maybe we should help out the others and check out the rest of this floor. Cassian and some others can check the rest of this room out."

    "Yeah." He nodded and stepped away from you, opening the door to the glass chamber. He had his eyes already closed when he walked in as soon as he closed the door and you laughed, looking down at your shoes when the steam started. The outer door opened and the two of you walked out. "I hate that."

    "It's your fault you're a giant," you told him before walking over to where Murphy had gone off to.

    "No, it's not!" Bellamy argued back, moving on to find Lloyd.

15. WITHOUT THINKING

DAY: SEVENTY- SEVEN

    Once the basement was fully checked out, things began to fall in an organised schedule. The Base of Operations moved down into the basement and the layout of the front of the main floor was changed. Instead of an empty room, there were tables and some chairs set out for meals. Where the main door was, there were tall, heavy metal frameworks that barricaded the door for safety. Some people had moved down to the basement, setting up makeshift walls for privacy, which meant that the top floor had more space. For the first time in a long time, the merger had had an actual meal—which wasn't going to be a very common thing as everyone still had to ration, but at least it was something. When you walked up the stairs, towards the wall that had a small balcony outside, you could see Murphy standing outside with his gun held in his hands tightly. He had been on watch for a while, so you were going to tag him out and let him get some food and some rest. Some of the cold air from the outside blew into the warehouse as you opened the door and placed your hand on Murphy's shoulder. He turned around, and as he did, you could see that he had been on watch with Bellamy.

    "Tag out, Murph," you told him, motioning your head inside.

    "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

    "Yeah, get some rest."

    "Will do." He nodded, stepping around you to head inside.

    When the door closed behind him, you looked over at Bellamy and smiled lightly. "You should tag out too. I've got this."

    "You sure?" He raised an eyebrow at you. "'Cause I can stay out if you need me to… or, you know, if you want me to. It hasn't been a problem before."

    "You mean yesterday when you almost fell asleep?"

    Bellamy looked away from you and cleared his throat. "I didn't."

    "Tag out, Bell. If I need a buddy, I'll get Wyatt."

    "Okay, be on the lookout. Goodnight," Bellamy responded with some reluctance, looking half asleep already. He loosened his grip on his gun and quickly leaned down to kiss you before he stood back up straighter and walked inside, clearly not registering what he had just done. The door to the balcony closed behind him, and all you could do was stand frozen in your spot. His lips had been slightly cold from him being outside for so long, and they seemed to leave behind a lingering feeling of still being on yours. Slowly, your right hand lifted up to touch your lips, barely grazing them, as if not wanting to lose the feeling of him. After realising that that was what you were doing, you quickly dropped your hand from your lips and instead, gripped your own gun, ready to use if necessary. There was no way in hell that the kiss meant anything, it was a simple mistake. Why the hell would it be so important to you if you remembered what Bellamy's lips felt like? You thought vaguely to yourself, shoving all other thoughts away, shaking your head as you tried to focus.

16. WON'T DO IT AGAIN

DAY: SEVENTY-EIGHT

    Bellamy didn't act any different to how he usually did, despite the kiss the night before, which meant that you had tried doing the same. But that wasn't an easy thing to do when all you could think about was the kiss—albeit a brief one. You went looking for him, and found him in the Base of Operations, alone, sitting by one of the tables at the back, cleaning his weapon. Bellamy turned his head when he heard the door open and smiled lightly when he saw you appear from the walkway. Once you were in his sight, he turned back to face his gun, taking it apart to clean properly before he began to put some parts back together again. You could feel your chest tighten, not entirely sure how you should phrase what you had to say, or how to even start saying what it was that you had to say, but, thankfully, Bellamy spoke first, clearly confused as to why you were just staring at him.

    "You need something?"

    "No… Yeah. Yeah, I need to ask you about something, about last night."

    "What about last night?"

    "You don't remember?"

    "Remember what? I have no idea what you're talking about." Bellamy stopped what he was doing when he finished putting his gun back together and turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow. When you didn't say anything, but, instead, continued to stare at him, it suddenly clicked. Bellamy's eyes widened and he stood up, looking down at you. "Crap," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing yesterday, it just seemed like something I should do, because of, you know, how close we've been getting, and the fact that we're basically the parents to some of the group—"

    "It-It's fine, Bellamy. I just wanted to ask what it was about, that's all."

    "Again, I'm sorry. I, uh, I won't do it again," he told you, watching as you opened your mouth quickly to say something, but you closed it again. Bellamy tilted his head slightly and seemed to catch on. He smirked and corrected himself, "Unless, of course, you want me to do it again. Do you?" Once more, he watched you say nothing and he laughed lightly to himself, looking just over your head as he processed it all. "Okay then," he finally spoke and picked up his gun, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers before he walked out of the base, leaving you to stare at the table.

17. CATCHING ON

DAY: EIGHTY-SIX

    While you had been in the Base of Operations to see if there was anything in the rations inventory that needed stocking up, which would call for a small rations trip, Murphy had been keeping you company. There were two lists set out on the table: one was a list that kept track of how much of a ration there already was, while another was for any rations that needed to be collected from the trip. So far, nothing had been written down, and Murphy was getting slightly bored.

    "What is it, Murphy?" You asked, not looking away from the inventory list.

    "Nothing. Why would you ask that?"

    "Because you keep staring at me and looking away with a huff. If you want to ask me something then ask."

    "What happened between you and Bellamy?"

    Looking away from the list finally, you raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

    "Well, he can't stop looking at you. I mean, I know he used to look at you a lot before, but now it just seems to be happening all the time. Not to mention the fact he seems to be more distracted. Mitch had been talking to him the other day but couldn't seem to keep Bellamy's attention on himself, in the end, he just had to walk away and ask Wyatt. It's been happening for eight days now."

    You could feel a heat rush to your face as you stuttered a reply, "Oh, well, I, uh, I don't—"

    Murphy seemed to catch on and he let out a laugh. "Are you kidding me? Great, now you're going to spend all your time with him and I'm going to be left hanging out with Fabian," he joked. "Despite the fact that I don't like Bellamy, I'm happy for the two of you… I think."

    "Thanks?"

    "I guess my job here is done."

    "But you didn't do anything," you argued back before watching him shrug.

    "Mmm, that you know of."

18. ASKING

DAY: ONE HUNDRED

    Two weeks had passed, and Murphy only complained for the first four days since he had found out—which felt like forty. You were back in the basement, but you were in the supply closet, looking for some plasters since Lewis had fallen over and cut his knee. The door had opened and you saw Bellamy step inside, quickly closing the door behind himself.

    "I was looking for you," he commented as he stepped closer.

    "Why? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" You asked, worriedly.

    Bellamy shook his head and quickly took hold of your arm as you tried making your way around him to leave the supply closet, to check up on everyone and make sure everything was okay. As you turned to face him, to ask what he was doing, he pressed his lips against yours, placing his hands on your hips to keep you from moving. When he slowly pulled away from you, he smiled lightly and spoke in a quiet voice, "I wanted to ask you something."

    "What?"

    "If you're my girlfriend now? You know, because we haven't actually made it official… I'm not entirely sure what we are."

    Looking down with a smile as you felt a warmth spread across your cheeks, you looked back up and replied, "Well, you haven't actually asked me yet."

    Bellamy grinned and nodded back. "Will you be my girlfriend, then?"

    When Octavia made it to your room late at night, after dealing with the rest of Wonkru, she locked the door behind herself and slowly made her way over to you. The book in your hand, that you had been rather engrossed in, was shoved out of the way when Octavia laid down on top of you on your bunk bed. Her arms wrapped themselves around your waist while she let out a sigh, getting more comfortable. You moved the book back into your line of sight and continued reading until the book lightly hit you in your face as she shuffled up to rest her head by your neck. Instead of saying anything, you finished your sentence and folded the side of the page to bookmark it before you closed the book and let it drop to the floor beside you. A content smile tugged at her lips when you placed your arms on top of her, running your fingers down her back. It wasn't something that happened every single night: her showing up unannounced to be held by you as she fell asleep, but it happened enough times for you to know that it had been an extremely long day for her and she had to make some serious decisions that only caused her more stress.

    "Rough day?" You asked softly, despite knowing already that it had been.

    She nodded. "It's late," she commented, "why weren't you asleep?"

    "Because I knew that you needed me," you answered, moving some of her hair away from her face as she turned her head to look at you, "Niylah told me what happened," you continued when you saw that she had furrowed her eyebrows, wanting to know how you knew.

    "Ah."

    "How many rounds were there today?" You asked, referring to the fighting pit that was used to settle certain problems.

    "Too many," she mumbled, letting out a sigh before she placed her leg over you to get more comfortable again, moving her head to lay back down instead of craning it to look at your face.

    "Just think: one day, we will get out of this bunker and it won't feel as though the walls are closing in on you anymore. When we get out of here, things will be different. It will be better."

    "If," she corrected.

    "When," you argued with a soft voice, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

    "Why are you so hopeful?" She asked in a tired voice.

    "Because I have to be," you answered, causing her to look back at you, "but, don't worry, I have enough hope for the both of us to keep us both afloat in here."

    "Thank you," Octavia whispered, knowing that if she spoke any louder her voice would break.

    "There's no need to thank me, O. Now, you should get some rest, you need it."

    Octavia had a weak smile on her face as she laid her head back down and squeezed you slightly. "I love you, and I know I don't say it much, or show it while we're out there, but I hope you know that I do."

    "I know you do, Octavia. I love you, too."