Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"BELLAMY?"
The group before them lowered their guns, stunned as they blinked back at the pair. Bellamy Blake stood with furrowed eyebrows, cuts and bruises painting his face in purple and red, and his split lip was parted in shock. "Marley?"
Marley took off running - she didn't know what had come over her, but she was running towards him - pushing her way through the thick greenery to reach him. She wasn't sure if her eyes were deceiving her; part of her expected she'd fall straight through him and that he was nothing but a hallucination brought on by her exhaustion. For the past few days, she'd resigned herself to think that he - and everyone else - was dead. For the past few days, she'd tried to put on a brave face in front of Elijah. But there was more pain in feeling numb than there was in feeling everything.
Yet there he was, alive and well aside from the battle wounds scattered across his face. Marley's body collided with his body; he was safety, he was stability and he was very much real. Not a hallucination, not a dream but real. Marley's arms looped around Bellamy, holding him tight, afraid that - if she let go - he'd disappear again and she and Elijah would be alone and in danger again. He held her back just as tight, his arms set firm around her.
"I thought the Grounders got you," He murmured. His voice was filled with relief. She could feel his breath on her ear and it sent a shiver up her spine, her cheeks flushing as red as the grazes on his face. The pair pulled away, their arms falling away from around each other, and Marley's grey eyes met his brown ones.
"I thought youwere dead," Marley whispered.
Bellamy grinned. He still held her by the arms. "How did you get out?"
Marley glanced towards Elijah who was hugging Octavia with a grin on his face. "Elijah."
At the call of his name, Elijah stumbled towards Bellamy, pulling him into an awkward hug. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and patted his back, murmuring something about him being glad that he was still alive.
"We need to get back to camp," Bellamy stated as Marley shared an embrace with a relieved-looking Octavia.
"There's a camp?" Elijah quirked an eyebrow.
With a grin, Bellamy's hand came to rest on the small of Marley's back; he ushered her and Elijah in the direction the group — consisting of only four, Bellamy, Octavia, Monroe alongside another girl she'd never seen before, who looked in pretty bad shape — had come from. The prospect of a camp, somewhere real to rest their heads, somewhere for Elijah to recover a little until he was strong enough to walk, sent a flush of relief across her skin. At this point, Marley didn't care what camp was — even if it was a small clearing in the trees and a campfire smouldering by its dying embers. She could rest for longer than two hours and perhaps rid her face of the ugly eyebags which clung like bruises above her cheekbones.
