Do Not Go Gentle--A Bellarke Story

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Rightfully, it rains after they return to camp. They come back, not having fired a single bullet, or thrown a single axe or spear, and somehow, despite the happiness Bellamy feels--he loves her she loves him--everything seems far too easy. It is as though someone merely flipped a switch, turning the suffering of Clarke off without having to try hard. He is used to working for what he desires, and it makes him uneasy to have victory handed to him without a struggle.

It rains, and it is frightfully cold when the icy water streaks across his face and clothing. The ground has forgotten it is meant to keep them on their feet, and has turned soggy--a soup of dirt and wood and leaves that squishes when they step. Dampness taps at first the edges and then the inside of his boots, spreading across his toes and leaving them frozen and craving warmth.

Birds flee the wet ground and fly quickly to the upper portions of trees, nestling in the branches and finding security in the dryness.

There are whoops and shouts from the crowd, who are relishing in victory, and perhaps also the first rain they have seen in weeks, though the water that tears from the sky makes them shiver.

They make it to the camp, and they pour in, racing to the drop ship. Bellamy reaches out, to the space he knows he will find Clarke, and puts his hand on her back, comforted knowing that she is coming, and that she is there.

The red tarp that hangs over the entrance of the ship is blowing in the wind, allowing much of the wet outdoors into the safety they seek. Dozens of soggy boots are heard clanging on the metal of the ramp. Dozens of dripping heads crowd into the first floor, and then the second, and then the third too, which is the driest of the lot.

Two or three of them manage to catch the red tarp and hold it in the inside while Bellamy pulls the lever. They let it fall when the door's closed, laughing and shaking the water from their hair. They retreat to the crowded ladder, trying to make it to the driest corner.

Monty and Raven are waiting on the second floor, the former looking quite nervous about the fact that dozens of sopping wet teenagers are trying to crowd into a place filled with electronics. He hastily puts his walkie in his belt and cradles a large metal box, which Bellamy assumes helped to find the source of the chip.

He squeezes between people with Clarke, making their way toward Monty and Raven.

Raven is the first to speak, greeting them with a grin on her face. "Clarke! Do you remember? You've got to, haven't you, with all these happy people?"

Beside him, Clarke smiles, stepping closer to pull Raven into a hug. "I think they're happy about the rain."

Raven punches Clarke's shoulder. "Good to have you back, man."

Clarke walks hopefully to Monty, who manages a sheepish smile and a slight shake of his head. "No hug. . . .sorry. You're wet." He gestures to the electronics in his arms, and Raven laughs.

"He's been like this ever since the rain started--entirely terrified that someone's going to step too close."

"That's alright," Clarke says generously.

It seems to Bellamy that for the first time in a long time, it is.

Alright, that is.

-

Night came and went. The moon rose and fell. The young people in the drop ship sleep on. But if one of them were to awaken and slip down the ladder, they would see that the great door had been opened, the rain had stopped, the red tarp was swinging gently in the slight breeze, and two figures were sitting on the ramp, close enough to be amicable, but not close enough to be suggestive of something else.