HERE LIES THE 100

Clarke stood there, surrounded by the grave markers.

"The 100." She said.

12 months had passed since the dropship first landed.

"Only one year."

She closed her eyes and I could tell she was thinking of Octavia and her first words on the ground. Two had died by the time we reached the ground.

Ninety-eight.

Really, it was ninety-nine, because of Bellamy.

"Bellamy." She whispered.

"Yes, Clarke?" Bellamy was standing a couple feet behind her. She turned to look at him. 12 months had done nothing to decrease his handsome features. If anything, the scars that now wound their way across his face, neck, shoulders, and hands only gave him more beauty. The only thing that Bellamy was missing, besides his right third finger and a bit of his ear that had been lost in battles long past, was the look of innocence in his face. He had seen too much; they both had.

This seems fitting Clarke must be thinking. Dying here. It could have happened any time, any place.

I've always dreaded coming back. I guess I always knew. I could never leave this place, not really. None of us could.

"Four more graves."

There were already ninety-seven graves.

They always brought them back if they could, Bellamy and Clarke. For those they couldn't bring back, the ones burned or drowned, they put headstones.

They fall into the routine that they've done almost a hundred times.

We couldn't survive this world.

The Ark perished in one of the Great Wars. At one point our allegiances were so tangled that we started turning on each other.

Jasper was one of the first to be killed by our own. Monty had become a fighter by the time Jasper's head was completely turned. Monty didn't mean to kill. None of us did.

Clarke and Bellamy weren't the only ones who tried to stop it, but they were our saviors. They had the most success, but they couldn't protect us all.

In the end, Clarke and Bellamy were the only ones who brought the bodies back. Back to where it all started, where we landed. Back to the dropship.

We watch as Clarke and Bellamy start to dig the graves. Our graves, Monty's and mine. We were the last to be brought here, the last to die. Clarke tried to take the arrow for me but she was a bit too late. That's a good thing, in my opinion, because she is the only one who could have pulled Bellamy away from Monty long enough to survive the battle.

I'm not sure how Monty died, but if his face and hands are anything to go by, the arrow was an easy death.

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I hope someone makes this site a memorial.

HERE LIES THE 100

I hope that somebody counts the bodies, finds the 101 bodies and think that someone in the sign department made a mistake.

I wish that there was someone around to make headstones for Clarke and Bellamy. Theirs will be the only graves that aren't marked. They didn't focus on the inevitability of death as Monty and I did. We made our own headstones, even left space for a cause of death. Clarke helped me with the etching on it, even though she didn't know she was doing it.

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I wonder how they are going to put the dirt on their own graves. Oh, they made a mechanism that will cover them as soon as they fall into the graves. I hope they aren't planning to burry themselves alive.

Clarke always believes she deserves more punishment than anyone else.

They've stopped working. It's time.

They start with Monty, lowering him gently into one of the four graves. They don't say any words of farewell. I guess they know that they will see him soon.

I wish I could talk them into living. I wish that they would live for all of us. Those two graves aren't going anywhere. They will still be here in fifty, sixty years.

Go, Clarke. Go paint the ocean. Go find that clearing in the forest where the moon shines onto the water that you've been drawing for so long. Go live a long life and have kids with Bellamy. We will always be waiting for you to come home to us. We can wait, just please...

But she doesn't hear me, and as they lower me into the grave, I see the tears lining her eyes.

"I'll see you soon, Raven." She whispers, while Bellamy goes to start filling in the whole.

Darkness clouds my vision until all I am aware of is the sound of dirt being added to my grave.

There are mumbled words above me, a click, the sound of two guns going off almost simultaneously, and then silence.

When the two people who we relied on the most fell into their graves, there was a release of tension, the unwinding of a spring, a gust of refreshing air as if the entire grave yard gave a sigh of relief.

And here we are. The 100 that was more than a hundred. We were now whole again. We were now safe, and with our two leaders to guide us the best they could, we were ready to drop into whatever was waiting for us on the other side of death.