ATARAXIA • BELLAMY BLAKE

[ 5 5 ]

"You've been quiet since you got back," I say softly, noticing the tension in Jaime's face, the way his jaw tightens every few moments as if he's trying to keep something from surfacing.

It has only been a day and half since the attack on Mount Weather, and the mood in Arkadia is heavy with grief. Jaime, who's usually steady, has been distant. He lost so many of his people, and even though I can't fully comprehend the weight of that loss, I feel it in the silence between us. He hasn't spoken a word about the attack since it happened. For three months, those people were all he knew — and Jaime grew up on Farm Station, so those ties go deep.

Jaime nods slowly, still avoiding my gaze. "Yeah... just processing."

He reaches for the cup on the table, his movements controlled, as though he's focusing on each action to keep his emotions at bay. The water barely ripples as he takes a sip, then places the cup back down beside mine. I'm still in uniform, having just gotten off my post to attend the memorial. Jaime was given the day off for obvious reasons, but it's clear he hasn't found any peace in the time alone.

"There was this one guy. Garrett," Jaime says, clearing his throat like the name itself is lodged there. "I knew him when I was a kid."

I reach across the table, laying my hand on top of his, offering silent support. "You never mentioned him before."

Jaime's eyes flicker with something—maybe a memory, maybe regret—but he quickly brings his features back into a neutral mask. "We weren't ever close."

"Still," I say gently, giving his hand a small squeeze, "you knew him all your life."

Jaime's gaze drifts past me. "We were on patrol together a lot," he adds after a moment. "He was good company."

I study his face, noting the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips press together like he's holding back more than he's willing to share. I keep my voice light, not wanting to draw too much attention to our table. "I'm so sorry, Jaime."

"Yeah," he breathes, the word coming out more as a sigh than a response. "I just keep thinking about what he said last time we were out together. How he was finally starting to believe we could make it down here. Start fresh, you know."

I nod along, my thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand in a small attempt to comfort him. "He sounds like someone worth remembering."

"He is," Jaime says. "I think I'm gonna speak for him at the memorial."

"That's a good idea," I say, offering a supportive smile just as someone catches my eye from across the room. I look up to see Bellamy walking in. His expression is dark, his movements tense. He spots me and starts heading in my direction, but something seems to change in him mid-step. Jaime follows my gaze and turns around just as Bellamy abruptly changes course, heading towards a door on the far left.

"Bell?" I call out, my voice cutting through the low hum of conversation in the room. He ignores me, continuing to walk away, dressed in a simple t-shirt with his jacket clutched in his hand.

"I'm gonna head in there," Jaime says, nodding towards the direction of the memorial. I retract my hand from his with a nod before I rise from my seat and quickly follow after Bellamy.

I manage to catch up to him just before he exits the common room, my hand reaching out to grab his bicep, forcing him to stop. "Hey."

Bellamy halts, but he doesn't turn to face me, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point ahead, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitch beneath his skin.

"What's wrong?" I ask, trying to coax him into looking at me. "Why aren't you at your post?"

Finally, Bellamy turns his gaze on me, and the pain in his eyes is so raw it nearly takes my breath away.