I Am the Reaper

Hereafter

"How is it?" asks Octavia, looking expectantly at my mom. She won't look at me. In fact, I'd say she is trying hard to forget I'm even here. 

Mom finishes wrapping his shoulder and ties off the bandage. "No signs of infection," she says, meeting Octavia's gaze with a glance at me, staving off my invisibility. "We'll give him a round of antibiotics to be sure."

"You don't need to talk to me like I'm not here," Bellamy says, voice thick and broken. He's still sitting on the floor but at least now he's in an upright position, resting against the wall, a tourniquet around his arm. Mom is crouched at his side with Octavia watching carefully, eyes hawk-like and calculating. 

I stand a little ways back, allowing them their space. I doubt I'd be well received by either Blake at the moment, but even they can't object to my needing to be updated on Bellamy's condition. When mom returns to Arkadia, that leaves me with the medical responsibilities, and not even Octavia will risk Bellamy's life. Not again.

It doesn't make the atmosphere any less strained though. This floor is made of glass and I fear one wrong step will shatter what little foundation is left of it. 

Mom's looking at Bellamy, careful to keep her expression blank. She's all doctor now. No emotion. Or maybe that's her Council side showing. But I recognize it enough to know what it really means. I've worn it myself; she's unsure of Bellamy's stability. Unsure if it will hold. I know there's a worry somewhere inside her that he'll slip back into that fold of red. 

She won't say any of that, though. Not with Octavia here. She just looks at me and I see the message loud and clear, and I give a small nod. 

From my periphery, I see Bellamy's gaze snap to mine and I meet them slowly, trying to ignore the accusation there. Trying very hard not to imagine red eyes staring back.

Satisfied, Mom leans back on her knees. "Well, for all that you've been through, you seem to be healing nicely."

"Good for me," says Bellamy in a clipped tone, his lips twisted in a grimace. 

"Hey." Octavia places a hand on his unwounded shoulder. "You're alive. That's what matters."

Bellamy knows better than to argue, but I glimpse it in his eyes. He'd trade his life for those boys in a second, if given the chance. 

"Any idea when I'll be able to get out of here?" he asks, looking from Octavia to my Mom. He can't quite mask the edge in his voice, the need to be active, to do. 

She gives him a pointed look, but there's sympathy there. "Given the fact that I almost pronounced you dead only 24 hours ago, it's going to take a few days of monitoring before I let you leave." She sighs. "I can't isolate the drug you were administered without the right equipment, so I can't tell the full extent of damage it may have caused. It's . . . better for everyone if you give it a bit more time."

The hidden message is clear. At the mention of the drug, Bellamy shifts uncomfortably, and accidentally meets my gaze. He holds it for a moment, long enough for me to catch the storm of regret there, the anger. 

I'm the first to look away. "I need to meet with the others in Arkadia," I say. "Update them on everything. I should be back in a few hours." 

There are other things to do, like meet with the Commander and work towards an alliance we are running out of time to secure, and I don't tell them what leverage the last 24 hours might have provided us. Guilt churns in me at the thought, but maybe there is a benefit to it as well. Maybe if Bellamy knew he was the catalyst in forerunning the reverse of the drug, he'll be able to forgive himself for what he did under its influence.