Chapter 51
Lincoln told me he knows the way from this entrance best, that it wouldn't take them too long if no trouble should arise. He told me not to wait for him if he's not back even a few hours before sundown. But it's about to be sundown soon. And he still hasn't come back. And I can't keep still in these bushes, wanting to jump out of my skin. And I can't exactly just pace around as I please, with all the possible dangers around me. ''The Mountain has many eyes,'' the words ring and echo through my head. And a million scenarios play out over and over again.
The sun is getting lower in the sky. He should be back any moment now, but even as I prolong the wait, with every passing moment I know he's less likely to step out. The slow realization of it seizes my entire being, tries to get me into full panic mode. But I take deep breaths, try to focus on the most likely scenarios. The tunnels are a maze, it's not impossible that Lincoln took a wrong turn or two and had to go back. I decide not to consider them clashing with the Reapers - they look too much like ones not to be able to pass them. It's probably just the tunnels, I decide, but I still can't quite seem to breathe properly.
Another half an hour and I'm fed up with it. I jump down, looking around to make sure no one's watching me. I stand in front of the tunnel and stare, but I don't see anything through the pitch black darkness. And it's like the darkness is staring right back at me, like it's a living, breathing being of its own. It's almost oppressive.
I'm scared as shit, but I have to step in. What would I tell Octavia if I came back without him? I know she'd walk right in after me. I owe her. So I pull out a flashlight with a shaky, sweaty hand, but I don't dare turn it on and make myself a lighthouse. I take a deep breath and step in.
And one step in, I remember what Bellamy told me. I need you with Octavia. Watch each other's backs when I can't. You're the ones that will bridge the gap between our people.
And biting back a curse, asking some absent being for forgiveness, I step right out.
*
It's evening when I get back to camp, and I find that it now hosts new faces. There is already some training taking place in the yard, and I can recognize Indra where she stands, watching over. I immediately spot Octavia not too far away from her, and my mind already starts forming least painful explanations.
She sees me before I can take one step toward her, and rushes to meet me. ''Hey,'' she throws her arms around me, ''Everything good?''
''They're in,'' I nod, ''I waited for Lincoln but... He told me to go back home if he's not back by sundown, and I didn't want to go back without him, I was so worried something might have happened when he wasn't coming back and I wanted to walk in after them but it would have been my death, O, I wouldn't pass as a Reaper and-''
''No, it's good that you didn't,'' she stops me from rambling, one hand on my arm.
''God,'' I run a hand through my hair, ''The tunnels are probably just taking them longer, but I can't-,'' I choke up.
''They'll be alright,'' she says, like she knows, and I wonder how much she herself believes that.
''Yeah,'' I whisper. I find myself turning to this ever-absent God more often lately.
*
I grab a snack and some water when I go check on dad - he's probably worried sick. He's grown awfully fond of Bellamy too, and I know he's worrying about him as well. It doesn't seem to ease him too much when I tell him Bellamy's into the tunnels, and probably in the Mountain by now. The sudden realization of it - that Bellamy might very well be inside by now, going through the awful rite of passage - gives me goosebumps. I push away those thoughts. They're of no use to me. I need to be clear-headed now.
I kind of want to train outside with the Grounders, but even if the somehow exclusive circle would let me, I don't think I have the strength for it after today. I sit with Octavia outside for a while, and one of the Grounders - whose name I learn to be Drea - gives us a few tips. He's mostly talking to O as I watch them, a bit mesmerized. Drea seems as young as Bellamy, but his demeanour is also far kinder than that of most Grounders I've met. I remember a few things from the conversation, but mostly I just drift off, lulled into a waking dream by the fires flickering around us. I haven't realized how tired I am until now.
I spot Murphy across the camp, leaning against a shovel. He seems to make eye-contact, but it lasts only a moment. I frown. I don't know why I get up and follow him when I do. I don't really think.
He deposits the shovel in the storage room, and reaches for an old mop instead.
''Woah, do they let you rest sometime?'' I ask, leaning against the doorway, crossing my arms on my chest, ''How exactly did you end up slaving away?''
''When exactly did you end up best buddies with the Grounders?'' he asks instead, bitter. And it's exasperating, and I want to groan. I don't know why I came here, not after the day I've just had. I don't need this, any of it. He notices, and looks almost sorry because he knows what I'm going through. But almost, not quite. He still hates the Grounders too much to be sorry.
And then I realize for the first time what this means to him. Hell, I was there myself when they tortured him. And I didn't even see 2% of it. The horrors he went through were his to live with, and now he has to see them every time he steps out of his tent.
But he's not the only one. These people killed Finn. They may have ripped out John's fingernails, but they ripped out my very heart.
I choose to ignore Murphy's spite.
''So what happened?'' I ask, tired, ''It's obviously punishment. What did you do?''
He puts the mop in a bucket of water before he slides it across the floor.
''One of your buddies here started talking to me in that jibberish of theirs,'' he says as he cleans, not looking up, ''I told him I don't speak Grounder. Kane made me apologize when that pissed him off. Apparently, we're supposed to lick their boots now.''
I frown. ''Just that? That can't be it.''
''It's not,'' he says, ''He also told me I'll burn like Finn.''
That makes my insides suddenly twist and turn right upside down, and I want to retch. I'm physically sick. Finn is gone, but he is somehow still with me, and his memory is sacred to me, and I will shield it from all hate and filth with all my life. Because they may have killed him, but they will not mire the memory of him if I have to fight the world for it. And the mere insinuation that they will take any one of my own the way they did him - it boils my blood, it makes my skin crawl. It takes over me like a fever. But I swallow it all back.
''I hope at least you threw a good punch,'' I say.
He snickers. ''It's why I'm here.''
The sound of guns shooting booms through the air. I know they're out training, but I still react to it. John looks up and through the window.
''Save the bullets for the Grounders,'' he grumbles.
''John, just don't,'' I beg.
''I take it you don't approve,'' Jaha says, somehow appearing right behind me. I must be more tired than I'm aware knowing that I didn't hear him approach.
''I asked you a question,'' Jaha steps in when Murphy doesn't say anything, back to his cleaning.
''Who cares what I think?''
''I do. Or I wouldn't have asked.''
''I think the Grounders can go to hell,'' John says to no one's surprise.
''I got you off work detail,'' Jaha says.
''Why?'' I ask instead of John.
''You both knew my son... And I wanted John to take me to his grave. Now that there's a truce, it's safe for me to go and say good-bye.''
''Well, then you can get someone else to take you,'' replies John.
''I'm told the graves are unmarked. You can show me which is his.''
Thinking of Wells does it for me. I feel nothing for Jaha, but I feel like I owe this much to Wells.
''You can hold the mop,'' he further tells John, before he pulls out a little present, ''Or you can hold the gun.''
''Save your bribes, Chancellor,'' I say, ''We'll take you to your son. Right, John?''
*
We walk in silence for a while, me keeping in line and next to Murphy the whole time. I don't know why I feel protective of him when he's around Jaha. It's like we're back on the Ark when Thelonius Jaha was the epitome of everything we hated. But we only hated him because he hurt us so deeply, hurt him. And some part of the old me still lingers and is still afraid Jaha will hurt him again when I'm not looking. Murphy and I could hate each other for all the world, but I would still not let that happen. We could be at each other's throats, but at the face of a bigger danger, we'd still protect each other. If I wasn't as tired as I am, that realization would have alarmed me at least a little bit.
''It's extraordinary, isn't it?'' Jaha says after a while, breaking the perfect silence. It's like for a moment I've almost forgotten he's even there.
''Oh, just give it a few days,'' John says, and I huff out a silent laugh.
''I may not know everything that happened before I got down here, but I do know something about what you're feeling, son.''
''Don't call him that,'' I growl before I can stop myself.
''Yeah, I'm nobody's son,'' John says, turning to Jaha, ''You made sure of that.''
''I remember your father,'' Jaha says.
''Yeah, right,'' scoffs John.
''Alex Murphy... convicted of theft of rationed medicine. He stole it to take care of you. I remember them all.''
''Names,'' I say, ''You remember names, Chancellor. Anyone can remember names and some info. But you don't remember anything he did past his crime. You don't remember the Alex Murphy that bought me a book for my thirteenth birthday when he could barely buy his family meals,'' tears come to the corners of my eyes as I say that - I'd almost forgotten that, ''You don't remember because you never knew him, any of them. And you never cared to.''
John's eyes meet mine for a moment, and his expression must be the same as my own. It's like I'm looking at a mirror. I know what he feels, what he thinks. And for that one single moment, the gap between us is non-existent.
''We're here,'' John finally announces then - I haven't even realized, ''Home sweet home.''
''Graveyard is this way,'' I say, taking the lead.
*
John and I give Jaha some privacy as he mourns his son. I can tell he's crying even from this distance. It's fairly late now though, and I hope he'll be done soon so we can head back home. I want to sleep everything away for a few hours.
John and I don't say anything as we wait. He paces around a bit as I lean against the cold wall of the Drop-Ship. I don't know what I'd tell him, really. Somehow I know we both know everything that lies on each other's mind tonight. But breaking that ice and talking - that would be definite. That would mean forgiveness and closure and a bridge between us and that might be too much right now. Some other night perhaps, but not now.
The fact that a graveyard still remains is silly, because every inch of the ground we're walking right now is graveyard. The very soil is mixed with burnt bones. The days when this place was our home seem so distant now, an entirely different lifetime. It's hard to even imagine me and Monty in that corner over there, plucking the feathers off the birds we'd hunted. Or Finn and Clarke sitting in front of a fire opposite us, or Harper laughing at one of Jasper's silly stunts on the outposts. A different life.
''You about done?'' John steps toward Jaha and calls out, not quite nearing him.
''We should be heading back,'' I add, but with more tact.
''How well did you know him?'' Jaha asks.
''Well enough to be hung for his murder,'' Murphy says, catching that look of shock on Jaha's face immediately, ''Clarke sugar-coated it for you, didn't she?''
''What happened to my son?''
''Twelve-year-old girl stabbed him in the neck with the knife she took from me.''
''Why would she do that?''
''She couldn't kill you. Yeah. So you got a lot of blood on your hands, Chancellor. Every single one of them, including your son, would still be alive if you hadn't sent us down here.''
''If I didn't send you, they would have died on the Ark with the rest of us, and we would have never known that Earth was survivable. Their sacrifice is why we are here. Good can come out of even the darkest acts, John,'' Jaha says, standing up, and walking away.
''Camp You is that way,'' John points west, and I can't help the chuckle that escapes me.
''We'll rest at the dropship for a while,'' Jaha says.
''Suit yourself,'' I grumble, taking the pack off my back and stepping in, ''It's raining anyway.''
*
Jaha opens up his pack, pulls out some of his snacks. Protein bars, I realize. He offers, but John declines. He's sitting so close next to me, and I wonder if this closeness between us is subconscious tonight. Instinctive.
''You sure? You must be hungry,'' Jaha says.
''No one gives anything without expecting something in return.''
I reach out and take one of the bars, then split it in two halves and offer one to John. Reluctantly, he pauses for a split-second and meets my eyes, before he takes it. He knows I expect nothing in return.
''That's a cynical way to go through life, John,'' Jaha says in that patronizing tone of his that goes on my last damn nerve. I take a bite, munching on it as loud as I can. This man better stop talking soon.
''You pull me off work detail, you offer me food,'' John says, ''Why are you being so nice to me?''
''Everyone deserves a second chance. That's why we sent the hundred to the Earth in the first place.''
''What a load of crap. You didn't give a damn about us. You still don't. That's why you're not fighting for those kids in Mount Weather.''
''I have to think of everyone. I know you don't want to hear this, but sometimes you have to sacrifice a few to save the many. Like I said, good can come out of even the darkest acts.''
''Then you can take it from me that no good has come from any of this. I was pardoned, slate wiped clean,'' says John, ''I'm still treated like dirt.''
Our eyes meet again for a split-second before he tears them away. I recognize his words for the truth. It breaks my heart a bit, but I also know that it's not like everyone can just forget about the past like it never happened. Unfortunately, that's not how humans work. And maybe it's for the best, no matter how it makes us suffer.
''You made mistakes. So have I.''
''Well, I'm nothing like you, Chancellor.''
''No? We both should've died several times over. We both have suffered at the hands of the Grounders. We both have been betrayed and imprisoned by our own people.''
''So there's no place for either of us, then. Great. Thought you were supposed to be inspiring.''
''There is a place for all of us,'' Jaha says, ''When I first landed on the Earth, I met a woman who spoke of a place beyond the dead zone, a place where everyone is accepted... a City of Light.''
''Sounds like a fairy-tale,'' I say.
''Or a second chance,'' Jaha corrects me.
''You don't even know if it's real,'' John scowls.
''You're right, I don't. But I believe.''
''Wow,'' I say.
''Ok, well, that's good for you, Chancellor,'' John said, patting and adjusting his pack to lay his head down on, ''Very good.''
''I'm gonna find it,'' Jaha says, ''And once I do, I'm gonna come back and lead my people home.''
''Send a letter via pigeon maybe,'' I suggest under my breath as I lay down, and I can hear John snort in a short chuckle.
*
I wake up to early morning light seeping through and the quiet chatter of people outside. The realization makes me sit up with a start. Who is that? What's going on? John follows in exactly the same manner, before we get on out feet and step outside.
''What the hell is this?'' John asks the moment our eyes fall on the group of people in front of us, all armed. I recognize Ringer among them, and he's not the only guard either.
''We're going to the City of Light,'' Jaha replies.
''You're going now?'' I ask incredulously.
''There's a million ways to die out there,'' John adds.
''Well, if it's not your time, nothing can kill you, but if it is your time, it only takes one,'' Jaha says.
''Right. You even have a map?'' John asks.
''No.''
''Then how do you know where you're going?''
''We don't, but I will not be ruled by fear. You want to stop being treated like a criminal, then you have to stop thinking that that's all you are,'' Jaha says, ''Take this leap of faith with me, John Murphy, and let me show you there's so much more for you than this.''
He's talking to John Murphy only, I realize. He's been talking to him ever since he came to the storage room. He's planned this all along, and he knows I wouldn't go. He knows I have too much to leave behind - Bellamy and my friends in the mountain, my dad, Octavia. He is a smart, calculating man, and he's targeted every vulnerable person he could find.
John doesn't have to tell me for me to know he's tempted to go. He doesn't even have to look at me. It's not like he has anything to lose, except the head he's carrying.
The air is still damp from the overnight rain. I hate the way it seems to stick to my lungs, making it harder to breathe.
John turns around for the first time to meet me, and his eyes communicate it all. He doesn't need to say it. I'm not surprised. But I am surprised when he takes one step toward me, grabs my wrist, and leads us just a couple of feet away, where the rest can't hear us. Not that they would, they all seem immersed in their own quiet conversations, and Jaha's turned his back to us now, as though to give us privacy for our goodbyes. Like he knows already John will step away and join them.
John wants to tell me something here, but it's my voice that sounds first, croaking a bit.
''You're going.''
''I have nothing to stay to.''
''You might die out there.''
''I told you I'd rather die than shovel shit for the rest of my life,'' he gives just the smallest hint of a smile, barely noticeable.
''Go then,'' I say, ''Try not to die.''
''I can't just go.''
''Without goodbyes?''
''Without apologies.''
Well, I didn't exactly expect that. But then again, last night I thought I was just escorting Jaha to his son's grave. A lot can change overnight, apparently. A world entire.
''Don't apologize just 'cause you feel like you owe it to me-''
''I do owe it to you,'' he says, ''But it's not just because of that. I really am sorry. I've been too much of an ass to admit it. But I am.''
''I know,'' I say, ''I've known all along. I just wanted you to say it.''
One corner of his mouth quirks up again, like a brief twitch.
''We really fucked up, didn't we?''
''Big time,'' I nod, grinning.
He turns to walk away before he stops, as though remembering something, then faces me again.
''Also, since I might die in the desert,'' he says, then looks at the ground as though to collect his thoughts, ''I never stopped caring about you.''
He says that while looking me right in the eyes without an ounce of uncertainty. Since he might very well die out there, he no longer cares what it comes out like, or what my reaction might be.
''So I'm sorry about every time I put you in harm's way,'' he adds, ''They tore off my damn fingernails and all I could think about was you. Not letting them get to you. I could care less about the rest.''
Oh, no. Something's opening inside of me. I have no room left for any of this. I take a deep breath, try to swallow everything back. I want to say something, but I'm afraid my voice will crack and betray me. So when I stay silent for too long, he just goes on.
''I'm sorry for when I got you sick. I'm sorry for every time I straight up hurt you, and every time I hurt you by hurting those you love.''
I swallow again. Somewhere behind that lump that keeps rising in my throat is a bout of tears dying to seep out of me. I won't let it.
''But most of all, probably, I'm sorry I never thanked you for everything you did,'' he stares at the ground now, swallows a lump of his own, ''When dad died, and for mom. And when you came to the Skybox every week... I never thanked you. For being there, you know. Making my life just a little less miserable.''
I can't help it anymore. The tears are silently streaming down the sides of my cheeks, and I have no control of them whatsoever. My chest feels like it will explode.
''And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the same way,'' he's still looking down, ''Shit, I never deserved you.''
Just because I can't say anything and for no other reason - I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. It's the only reply I can give right now. He freezes for a moment, uncertain, before his arms go around me as well. He doesn't hold me as firmly as I do him. It's like he's uncertain even now whether I want him to put his arms around me, or whether he's not even sure anymore how this is supposed to go. And I think about when might be the last time someone's touched him - just touched him without wanting to hurt him - and the realization makes me really cry now.
When he realizes I'm crying, his hands go firmer around me. And it takes me back to the night Finn died. I can't break down the same way though, and after a few seconds, I swallow it all, pull back, and wipe my cheeks. I can see tears in his eyes as well, but he's trained himself so well that none leave his eyelids.
''Please, don't die,'' I say.
He laughs, before he gives a nod. ''I'll try.''
I step forward again, and almost tiptoe to place a kiss on his cheek. He's the closest he's ever been to breaking, but he manages to fight off the tears again. He nods, puts a strand of my hair behind my ear.
''Get those kids out of Mount Weather,'' he says, ''And kick everyone's asses.''
''I'll make sure I do,'' I somehow manage a smile.
''May we meet again.''
''May we meet again.''
John walks off toward the rising sun and all I can think about is how one by one, everyone is leaving me. And if he ever comes back, I'll wait for him with arms open wide, and some room in my heart perhaps.