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Chapter Three - Not Alone Anymore

What was that?

Bellamy jerks out of the first solid sleep he’s had in weeks. Something woke him, but his foggy brain is struggling to catch up. He blinks bleary eyes around the dark dropship. Miller is curled into a ball on the other side of the room, a bottle of Monty’s moonshine cradled in his arms. Where the heck did he find that? A loud bang from above brings him out of his sleepy stupor. He sits up straight and goes for his gun, heart racing. Then he looks down at his jacket discarded over his legs. The girl.

He grabs a lantern and quickly climbs the ladder, searching the darkness for a small body. “Hey kid,” he calls softly. “Where’d you go?”

Something drops to his left, rolling across the metal deck. He tip-toes towards the noise, not wanting to scare her. The light finally catches on her eyes glowing from a crevice between some crates, an empty tin of food in her dirty hands. Bellamy squats in front of her. “Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing up here alone?”

She cocks her head, wedging herself in tighter. Bellamy eyes the tin. “Guess you’re hungry, huh? Why don’t you come out here, and I’ll see if I can find some food?”

She clutches the tin tighter like she’s afraid he might take it away. He taps his knee then leaves her there. Downstairs, he grabs his pack and jacket. Miller rolls over, the moonshine clattering to the floor. Bellamy picks it up, setting it on the casing to the door lever with a sigh.

Back upstairs, the little girl is gone from her hideout. He sets his stuff down on one of the seats then pulls out a small bag and bottle of water. “Kid? Where’d you go? I’ve got something for you.” A shadow catches his attention as it moves across the wall to his left. He finds the girl under a pile of seats and empty crates. She wraps her arms around her legs and stares up at him through a curtain of stringy hair. She’s so tiny. How has she been surviving? Why hasn’t anyone come for her?

The answer frightens him. Because they’re all dead. And she’s alone. Bellamy sits down on the other side of her “cave” and shakes the bag again. “You hungry? It’s not much, but it’s not bad,” he says, popping a dried berry into his mouth. Her little head raises. She licks her lips as her eyes track him eating another berry. Her stomach growls so loudly, Bellamy can almost feel it himself.

“If you come out, you can have some.” When she still doesn’t move, he eats a few more berries and takes a long sip of water, wiping his mouth with a dramatic flourish and sigh. Then he sets them down. “You know what, I think I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves his stuff and the light, retreating to the other side of the room. It’s only a few seconds before the girl squeezes out from between the seats. She looks around quickly then snatches the bag of fruit. She sniffs several berries before stuffing them in her mouth by the handful. He’s afraid she might choke as she inhales the food but can’t help smiling.

He creeps closer, but she hears him, dropping the food and knocking over the bottle. She looks from the food to her shelter to Bellamy, obviously unsure what to go for. Bellamy’s amusement vanishes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hut you.”

Her eyes dart to him for only a second. She grabs the spilled bag of food and darts for the safety her cave. She’s breathing hard when he sits down again, not sure what to do with her. “We just need to get you back to Arkadia. Abby will know what to do,” he tells her even though he knows she doesn’t understand. “You won’t have to be alone anymore.” Because being left behind sucks. I know from experience.

Bellamy scoots back against a crate and crosses his ankles in front of him as he watches the girl eat. When she gets to the bottom of the bag, she tips it up, crumbs falling into her mouth, then starts licking the insides. She must be starving. He wishes he had more food. He did have water, though. He picks up the bottle, getting her attention again, and[-1] takes another slow sip. She stops to watch with her hand over her mouth, fingers sticky with juice. He holds it out to her. “You want some? It’s a little warm.”

She crawls forward and grabs for it from behind her pile of junk, but Bellamy pulls it back. “You’re going to have to come out if you want it.”

She narrows her eyes like she’s considering clawing his eyes out to get to the water. Placing the bottle just outside of her reach, he sits back to wait, eyes closed. He peeks at her when he hears the debris moving. She scrambles over, lunging for the bottle. Except she can’t figure out how to open it.

Bellamy holds back laughter as she gnaws on the lid then bangs it on the ground. Then she completely surprises him by throwing the bottle at his head. He manages to get his arms up in time to block it, but he can’t stop himself from laughing now. “Ow, that hurt. Anyone ever tell you that you have an anger problem?”

Twisting off the cap, he takes a sip before holding it out to her again. She continues to glare, but inches closer, getting more and more angry when he keeps moving it farther away. Finally, she gets up and stomps over, murder in her eyes.

He hands her the bottle, and she guzzles it, water dribbling down her chin. When she’s had her fill, she wipes her mouth and mimics his dramatic sigh. Bellamy laughs. The kid’s a riot. She holds the water bottle out to him, but when he tries to take it back, she jerks it away—a smirk on her face.

“You little snot.” So much like Octavia. Bellamy digs his fingers into her ribs, smiling as she squirms and giggles. Now that she’s more relaxed around him, he carries her over to his bag and wraps his jacket around her. She stands there staring at the sleeves that hang off the ends of her hands all the way to the floor. She flaps her arms, the extra material flying everywhere. It makes her giggle again and Bellamy grins. Giggles might be the best sound in the world. Especially little girl giggles. The weight that’s been pressing on him all week lightens a little.

He shakes his head at the sudden swell of affection then unties his blanket from the pack, spreading it across the floor. As soon as he lies down the girl plops down next to him. With a yawn, she curls up against his chest, thumb in her mouth.

“Guess we’re friends now, huh?”

She just hums. Octavia hummed in her sleep, too. They shared a bed until he was a teen, snuggling under his one blanket. And pressing her freezing feet against my legs just to torture me. He snorts at the happy memory, but it quickly sours as reality settles back in. She can’t even stand to look at me now. It triggers a burning ache in his heart, but he doesn’t blame her. It’s all my fault.

Bellamy tugs the edge of the blanket over the girl and tucks her head under his chin. She lets out a contented sigh as he runs his hand over her matted hair. A moment later, she’s snoring softly—her hot breaths puffing against his neck. He’s surprised at how relaxed he feels in that moment. How can one little girl have that effect on him?

It’s because she reminds you of Octavia, that’s all. Don’t get attached.

He thinks it might be too late.



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