What You'll Find On Earth - The 100: Bellamy x Reader

"Listen," a boy with a gentle voice utters, "there's no hum of machines."

He's right. For the first time in my life, the world around me has never been this quiet.

Everyone unbuckles their seatbelts hurriedly, rushing this way and that. I hear footsteps from above, and see a hatch just to my left in the ceiling. It is open just a crack. Bellamy has already stood from his seat, making his way with speed to open the access-way to our below level. I get out of my chair steadily, walking over to the boy's crumpled body in the corner. His friend hunches over him. Bellamy shouts orders at people to start going down to the bottom of the ship - where assumidly the ground access point is. He halts to look at me ever so briefly. I don't have time to inform him that 'someone is already dead' before his form disappears.

Death is a part of the circle of life. In my day to day work at our medical hospital, people die all around me. Whether it has improved my empathy, or desensitised me to the concept of dying, I am unsure. In this moment, I try my best to lace my voice with sympathy. "Let's follow the crowd," I tell the kid infront of me. Light hair. Dark eyes. He barely looks 15, but perhaps it is that baby face of his. I don't bother to see if he follows me to the lower level.

My current concern is if we open that door, and doom us all.

As I climb down the ladder, Bellamy is yelling at the crowd of people, "Hey, just back it up guys." I push through them to get to the man. He is too close to the door release lever for my liking.

"How about we think about this before doing anything rash," I say with a bitter tone. I feel quite out of place, being surrounded by criminals from different stations - many worse off that Alpha. My words earn me some hateful jeers and chuckles.

But then a voice comes from the steps. "Stop!" She yells, watching her footing. Such a commanding voice for a teenager. It is nothing new; Clarke has always been the bossy one. "(Y/n)!?" She exclaims now, the focus of her attention pivoting when we lock eyes.

"Clarke," I sigh as she runs into my arms. It's easy to forget we are in a crowd of people as I hug her tighter. It has been a year since I saw her last. My stepmother didn't think it wise that I visit. It has been a hard, grief-filled twelve months to say the least.

"Couldn't let me go alone, could you?" Clarke chuckles. I relish in her warmth and sweet smell that still lingers despite the year in lockup. A sister protects. It's what gives life meaning.

"Yoohoo? Let's get out?" A female voice drawls. People call out their agreement.

Clarke swivels around to face the crowd. "The air could be toxic," she states, backing up my earlier hesitation. Her hand rests in mine as I clasp it at our sides subtley. It's been too long since we have last embraced. I won't waste any more precious time.

"If the air is toxic," Bellamy replies, "then we're all dead anyway."

I stare at him. He stares back. The man has a point. But that doesn't mean I can't hate how he voices the words in such a stuck-up eogtistical way. He is clearly full of himself, but whether he is simply a dickhead or it's a defense mechanism built from trauma... I don't know. A new voice fills the air.

"Bellamy?" The word on the girl's tongue is timid as she parts her way through the crowd. Long dark hair clings close to her figure. Whispers murmur their way through the crowd of people. The main sentence is easy to hear.

"Thats the girl they hid under the floor."

Octavia Blake runs to hug her brother. Their family case caused a huge political uproar those years ago. I always pitied them. Pitied her. How her reason for being thrown in prison was 'being born', and their mother was floated for it.