Inferno

Chapter 50: The Aftermath

The simple fact of the matter was that domestic life wasn't very well suited to Bellamy. She felt as though she had been at war for most of her life. Relaxing and taking things easy wasn't in her nature. Everyone was aware of it. Everyone was patient with her about it.

Some days were easier than others.

Some days she did just fine. She'd wake up, she'd be able to eat more than a few mouthfuls of the oatmeal. She'd even work on something to help with preparations—whether it be farming or cleaning things up.

It was simple work—easy, too.

Other days though—Bellamy would wake up heaving and gasping for air in the middle of the night, unable to get the feeling of doctor's touching and prodding and cutting out of her mind. It was like the gaping wound in her mind was still there. And maybe it always would be.

Thomas was a godsend, though.

Bellamy knew exactly one thing, and it was that she wouldn't be able to get through it without him. The first week was tortuous enough with the physical wounds still healing. But every time she flinched away or woke up unable to breathe—

He was there.

They usually ended up sleeping in the same cot anyway. There was an inherent level of safety and security that the duo lacked when they were with everyone else. This was a trust that went beyond anything else she had ever experienced or felt.

Bellamy knew that this was love. This is what she had watched Four and Tris do as they fell in love. That feeling of being willing to sacrifice everything for the other person—she understood that now.

It was on one of those harder nights that Bellamy flinched awake, barely able to contain her breath as she rushed from the cot and outside—wind and salt air slapping across the face. But Bellamy still could not breathe.

An awful feeling had settled in her chest—that she was not safe. That this was just a dream. And try as she might to fight it, she just couldn't shake the feeling.

She nearly collapsed on a rock, clinging onto it as she dry-heaved, breaths coming out in short spurts. And then someone's hands were closing over her own and Bellamy just slammed her eyes shut—waiting and willing the monsters in her mind to retreat.

There were words—she wasn't even sure what he was saying. She wasn't sure that it quite mattered to her at the moment. It just mattered that he was there. That he was kneeling in front of her, one hand cupping her cheek, and the other just holding her hands.

At his fingers brushing over her cheek, Bellamy found herself grounded in reality. WCKD wasn't here. The doctors weren't here. She wasn't being cut open or experimented upon. She wasn't fighting.

That was done and over. It wasn't real.

Not like this was.

Blinking open her eyes, Bellamy just leaned forward, resting her forehead against Thomas's. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't apologize," he whispered back to her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

It was still dim out—with the sun not even risen yet. With the ocean lulling in the background, its song tiring to her ears.

"I woke you up again."

"Wake me up as many times as you need to. I'm still not going anywhere," Thomas murmured against her skin.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she slipped off the rock and rested in his embrace. "It just...it hurts. I can't...I can't explain it."

"You don't have to explain anything to me. I just wish I could make it stop."

"You're louder than the memories, trust me," Bellamy mumbled. "It makes a difference."

His hands ghosted over the scars on her knees and she rested her head on his shoulder. "We should've tried harder—"

"Don't." Bellamy begged softly, hand flying to touch his face gently. "Don't do that to yourself." She hadn't even realized it, but her heartbeat had slowed considerably. "Just be here. With me. It's enough. You're enough."

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Bellamy had mustered up enough energy to be kneeling in the gardens, pulling out some weeds under the warm sunlight. In the Maze, she would've hated this. But at the moment—this sort of normalcy was something she had been missing. And she hadn't even known.

"You were wasted on being a Runner. If I had known you were this good, I would have had Zart just take you as a track-hoe anyway." Newt said pointedly, handing her a spade.

She just gave him a roll of her eyes. "I am capable of learning, you know."

"You know," Newt started, handing her one of the weeds to place in the trash. "We really did miss having you around."

"You mean my attitude and fighting skills?"

"No," Newt punched her arm. "I mean you."

She blinked, once then twice. It wasn't that she wasn't used to people looking out for her—she knew very solidly that the people she was with right now were her family. And they'd always have her back.

"No one's ever really said that to me before." Bellamy admitted in a mumble. "I've just been the outlier no matter where I was."

"I get that," Newt breathed out, gaze flickering over to Leo, who was helping Frypan gather up some of the harvest.

"So who confessed first?"

"What?"

"Out of you and Leo. He's been head over heels for—like—ever," Bellamy said, eyes flashing with slight amusement.

"Oh uh—" Newt's cheeks burned slightly. "He did."

"Good on him."

"Wait—" Newt's voice cracked slightly. "He told you?"

"Well...he kissed me once. Told me he liked boys more after. That was that," Bellamy admitted with a shrug. "Kinda like you did."

"God, Alby really would've killed you if he knew. How many?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Boy Wonder." Bellamy said, clapping him on the back.

"Hey Bellamy?"

She turned, facing him fully. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for saving my life."

Her expression softened immensely. "Yeah well...you're indispensable. And one of my best...friends—mates—"

"I get it." Newt cut her off, rolling his eyes at her attempted slang. "You're one of mine, too."