Of Everything That Could've Been - Bellamy Blake [2]

Chapter 7 - Long Into The Abyss

It's not the first time they've been here. Myles and Octavia sit in the top level of the dropship, their weary eyes watching a struggling reaper-version of Lincoln angrily try to break out of the bounds tying his arms to the metal walls. The position is ominously similar, both of his arms are being held spread-eagle to the walls, forcing him to stand. Breathing in deeply, Myles bounces her leg on the ground as she sits on a crate, just to do something seeing as it's becoming harder and harder not to notice the consistent jitter in her left arm while they wait. The longer Bellamy is taking to get back to them, the more anxious energy both of the teens ooze.

Her mind is having trouble concentrating as her body aches, the pain becoming more and more unbearable the more time passes with nothing to distract herself from it. Lincoln's chains clinking together aggressively blends with the whirring of a drill and the voices of the doctors from Mount Weather. It's like she's stuck in a tug of war game, standing in the middle as her memories and reality fight to tear her to shreds. The longer Myles sits here, the louder the memories become, the distant sounds gradually taking over the dropship.

Crunching floats up the dropship ladder, the sound of two heavy footfalls thumping across brittle bones and the charred remains of their camp echoes loudly over the animalistic grunts coming from Lincoln and the distant buzzing of a drill. Octavia's deep brown eyes flick to her hazel as the redhead stands in alarm, the same paranoid expression mirrored on both of their faces. Bolting for the ladder, Myles grips the rung with her good hand as she rests both of her boots on the metal sides of the ladder before letting go completely. Sliding down to the bottom speedily, the red haired teen wraps her fingers around the metal again as she nears the dropship floor and slips her boot on a rung to halt herself from hitting the floor noisily.

Quickly gripping the handgun she stole from Sgt. Gallagher in her good hand, Myles softly steps off of the ladder to inch predatorily towards the parachute covering the dropship entrance. When she's a few feet from the parachute, two sets of boots stomp up the ramp and she stills. Lifting her gun and aiming it at the sheet of fabric, she waits a beat more before Bellamy and Clarke burst through it and into the dropship. Sighing heavily, Myles quickly pulls her gun down and tucks it away as she nods at them and turns to scale the ladder again.

"Aggie?" Clarke asks in confusion, her voice heard easily over the quietening noises from Mount Weather, "what the hell is going on?"

"Just climb up, princess," the Blake brother grunts below his girlfriend and someone starts to follow her up.

Her shoulder and sides twinge painfully as she steps hastily onto the top level, her eyes locking on Octavia who relaxes when she sees there's no danger. The Blake sister is still sitting against the wall with her knees pulled up to her chest, the same self-comforting position she's been in since Bellamy left. Lincoln tugs in his chains noisily but the struggling is nothing Myles isn't used to, having spent the last few hours watching him roar and groan.

A yellow medkit is placed on the levels floor as blonde hair finally appears and worried blue eyes scan the level. The reaper jolts harshly in the chains holding him up, his mouth snapping his bared teeth at Clarke as if he were an animal. Lincoln's loud grunts sound like a strange blend between a scream and a growl, the predatory roar causing an alarmed Clarke to snap her head to him as her whole body jumps. Pausing at the top of the ladder blue eyes stare in horror at the dark skinned man as Octavia flinches, shutting her eyes in grief. Sighing, Myles sits back down on the crate beside the Blake sister, silently trying to offer some moral support. Clarke clambers onto the floor, stepping off of the ladder to let Bellamy come the rest of the way up.

"It's okay," the Blake brother assures her over the rabid mans wordless shouts, "it's okay. He's been restrained."

The two leaders stay standing beside the hatch, blonde hair swaying slightly as Clarke shakes her head in dismay. Her features are soft and droopy, making the teen look exhausted as her staggered blue eyes watch the crazed man thrash in his chains, the metal clinking together sharply. Bellamys eyebrows are turned up in a worried frown, the weight and uncertainty of the situation sitting heavily on his shoulders.