Chapter 18

They had worked all day following Raven's instructions to build the rockets. They had gone back to her pod, taking piece after piece from it. Lily had no idea how to do any of it, but Raven gave orders with confidence—she was precise, and she knew what she was doing. It wasn't hard to see that Raven was a really smart girl.

"Have you known her for a long time?" Lily had asked Finn curiously, while they were arranging some metal parts and tightening them together so they could carry them back to camp. She had noticed Finn watching Raven and Clarke talking together.

"Since we were kids," he replied, his eyes clouded, something melancholic shadowing his expression.

Lily nodded, then asked, "You're from the working class, right?"

"Right," he answered, tightening another knot around the metal pieces. "So were you, until you moved up."

Lily dropped her gaze, hoping he hadn't noticed the way her shoulders tensed. He knew that too. Her eyes wandered across the group. How many of the hundred knew? And what exactly did they think they knew? She remembered the rumors Bellamy had heard, and her hands trembled slightly with anger at what people said about her—or about her mother.

"What have you heard?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

Finn shrugged, pushing his hair back as he looked at her. "I don't like gossip," he said, making her lips curve into a grateful smile. He returned the gesture and stood. "Most people talk out of envy," he added. "A lot of us would've liked help from the elite."

"I know," she replied honestly, then shook her head. "But the elite only cares about order, not people."

"All of them?" Finn asked, curious.

One for sure, Lily thought, as the stoic face of her father came to mind. The last look she had of Marcus. But she didn't answer—just shrugged.

"Clarke is part of the elite, and she cares about people," Finn said, as if to defend Clarke, even though no one had attacked her.

"Clarke isn't on the Council," Lily replied, glancing up at him. "But she could be a good leader, you're right about that." Then she turned to start piling more metal pieces. As she did, she noticed Finn looking back at Clarke with a longing expression—as if their distance wasn't just physical.

"I ruined everything," she heard him whisper with a heavy sigh. Lily didn't know whether to respond or not. She wasn't close to Finn, and she didn't want to intrude on something personal, like she had done with Murphy. It was strange to see him and Clarke so distant—it had never happened before. And even if she knew that Finn had probably messed things up, she felt for him; it was easy to see the regret on his face.

Her gaze wandered—and landed on Bellamy. His expression was hard, but his eyes... Did he regret what he did? She wanted to believe he did. But was that because it was what she hoped, or what he actually felt?

He was here, she thought, but then shook her head. He could help more if he wanted to...

Why did thinking that make her feel guilty? Probably because his behavior didn't make sense to her. But most things didn't. People would say that's what being human meant. She wanted him to feel regret for what he'd done—maybe to reassure herself that she hadn't been wrong about him.

But what if she had been?

At that moment, Bellamy looked her way, and their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't want to be wrong about him.

She looked away and turned her attention back to Finn. "Hey," she said gently, catching his attention. "I don't like gossip either." She cast a quick glance toward Bellamy before continuing, "But everything will come around. Just give Clarke some time."

Finn let out a slow breath, his expression somewhere between pain and faint relief. "Thanks," he murmured, then paused. "The same goes for you." He nodded subtly toward Bellamy. "Give it time."

Lily's heart skipped a beat. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she gave a small nod, but her shoulders stayed tense.

"I think we'll all need time to forgive him," she said, forcing a final smile before returning to work.

They worked until the sun had sunk behind the trees, until their hands ached and their arms burned from hauling metal and tools and salvaged parts from Raven's pod. One after the other, the makeshift rockets had taken shape—ungraceful, uneven, desperate. But functional all the same.

And still, the knot in Lily's stomach only grew tighter.

The camp around her buzzed with a low, focused energy. Raven barked final instructions while Clarke double-checked the ignition mechanism. Monty hovered anxiously nearby, and Finn passed by with a handful of cables. Everyone had something to do. Everyone was trying to hold onto a thread of hope.

But Lily's thoughts refused to stay still.

Three hundred people.

She could see them in her mind—shadowy figures scattered across the Ark. Families, engineers, cleaners, technicians. People who had no idea their lives were being sacrificed for a mistake. And they might already have been lost. But because again, someone else decided it was the necessary thing to do. The logical thing. The right thing.

The greater good.

Her jaw clenched. That was always the view they used, wasn't it? Save who is necessary. Keep who they thought was the last of humanity alive. Her father's view. The Council's law.

Lily had always criticized it. She had seen people die, she had met people who had suffered. And once, on the Ark, she was sure that whatever the Council did was against that greater good, if it hurt so many. But what was the line between duty to save lives and kindness? For what they knew on the Ark, they were on a broken ship, and had nowhere to go. Was the right thing to do to sacrifice so many to save people's lives?

In their position, what would she have done? After what she was living on Earth, the line had never seemed so thin. But she didn't want it to be. There must have been a way to keep order without strict rules that hurt so many, and there must have been a way to save the people of the Ark without sacrificing anyone.

Or not..?

Her head was filled with so many questions, and nothing seemed to make her feel better. The only thing that could do it was for the Ark to see those flares, and let them know they were alive, and that they could still come down.

She stood with the others in the clearing just outside the camp, arms wrapped tightly around her chest as Raven began the final sequence. The air was so still it felt like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Then, with a sharp hiss, the first rocket launched.

Lily flinched as a streak of red carved into the sky. It exploded above the trees in a burst of color—gold, crimson, flickering like a dying star. The sound came half a second later: a dull, thunderous boom that rolled over them like a wave.

Then another. And another.

She watched them rise one by one, fire arcing through the night. Smoke curled upward, disappearing into the dark. She felt every explosion vibrate in her chest like a second heartbeat.

Please see this, she thought. Please, someone has to see it.

What would Marcus do, if he saw them?

Would he believe it? Would he stop everything? Or would he hesitate—just long enough for it to be too late? And if he did stop it… would it be because he knew people were alive? Or because one of them was her?

Lily closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the ache pressing at her ribs. She didn't want to think about him. Not now. Not when her whole body was coiled in fear for three hundred lives. And yet, he kept appearing in her thoughts like a ghost she couldn't silence. Stoic, unreadable, full of iron logic and noble intentions that never reached the people who needed them most.

What was it Bellamy had said? "It's too late."

She had hated him for saying it. Still did, in part.

And yet, as she stood there watching the smoke trail across the stars, she heard the echo of those words inside her.

But it's not too late, she told herself. It can't be.

Because if it was—if they had already failed—then all of this would be meaningless. The rockets. The running. The fighting. All of it.

She stayed rooted to the spot long after the last rocket vanished. The crowd around her slowly dispersed. Raven disappeared into her tent with Monty. Clarke murmured something to Finn and headed to check on the wounded. Lily didn't move.

Her fingers were numb from gripping her own arms too tightly. Her throat was raw with unshed words.

She hadn't even looked at Bellamy. But she knew he had been there, she had seen him around where Clarke was standing. Knowing that he hadn't disappeared made her hope that maybe he did care.

Stop that, Lily, she scolded herself.

And for another night, Lily was too nervous to sleep. She wasn't even feeling the weakness of the day. Too many things had happened, and her body didn't feel like being still. So, she had been back in her tent working on more medicines, trying to keep herself busy preparing some cleansing solutions.

She had mashed up fresh plantain leaves into a thick green paste, and was now straining it through cloth to extract the liquid. Nearby, a small tin bowl held the steeped bark of white willow, simmering over hot stones to concentrate its pain-relieving properties.

Her mind was racing. She still didn't know if Raven's plan had managed to save the lives of all those people up on the Ark. And she was still angry and sad thinking about Bellamy throwing that radio into the river.

He never thinks before he acts—or maybe he did, but somehow he always made the wrong choices.

But somehow, she knew he wasn't a bad person—that was what made her even angrier. She knew Bellamy was good, but he made so many bad decisions. And he was so difficult to read. But then she remembered how he told her that nobody could have helped him, and his eyes… sad eyes…

God, Bellamy, she thought, letting out a breath.

Why couldn't she be angry at him, like everyone else? She just wished she hadn't grown to care so much about him. But she knew she did. She was worried about him, and she couldn't help it.

Then, as if he'd heard her thoughts, Bellamy's voice cut through the quiet of the tent entrance.

"Lily."

She bit her lip, refusing at first to turn and look at him. It was strange for him to be there; she didn't think that he would come to talk to her. And a part of her kept her anger, but the other didn't want him to go away again.

So, even if she was fighting against herself, she finally decided to look at him. But the sight of him made her stomach twist tighter. His hair was disheveled, his chest rising and falling too quickly as though he'd been running. His dark eyes were wild, darting around the tent before snapping back to her. His hands kept flexing at his sides, opening and closing into fists.

"What is it?" she asked, getting up, her voice softer than she meant it to be, trying to mask her worry.

"Have you seen Octavia?" His words came out clipped and urgent, like he was struggling to keep himself under control. His voice cracked a little on his sister's name.

Lily blinked, thrown off by how raw he sounded. "No, I haven't," she said quickly, her mind scrambling as she tried to remember the last time she'd seen Octavia. She was certain she'd glimpsed her that morning, before Bellamy had left camp. But after that… she wasn't sure.

Bellamy dragged a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes blazing with fear. "I've looked around but… I can't find her—" His voice broke off, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down a surge of panic.

Lily stared at him, her chest tightening. The terror in his eyes shoved aside every other thought that she had been fighting the entire day.

"Bellamy… hey." She stepped closer, her voice gentle but edged with quiet resolve. Slowly, she lifted her hand and laid it on his arm, feeling the tense, coiled muscle beneath her fingertips. "We'll find her. I'll help you, alright?"

He looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure he'd heard her right. For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, eyes flicking over her face as though searching for something solid to hold on to.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. His voice was so low she almost didn't hear it.

Lily gave a small, determined nod. "Come on. Let's have another look."

Bellamy nodded stiffly, like movement was the only thing keeping him together. They stepped out into the night, the cold air brushing against their skin. The camp was quieter now—fires flickering low, voices hushed—but Lily could still hear Bellamy's breathing beside her, shallow and fast.

"Where did you look?" she asked, looking up at him, and she noticed he let out a shaky breath.

"Everywhere," his gaze found hers, and his jaw tensed again.

Was it possible that he hadn't found her yet? She must have been in camp. Where else could she be?

"She followed me," he muttered as they walked through camp, and Lily decided to stay silent, to hear what he wanted to share. "This morning, she…" he let out another shaky breath, "I told her about Jaha and she ran away."

Lily's hand moved gently to his arm, stopping his steps, but also his racing mind.

"Hey," she whispered gently, locking eyes with his worried ones, "It's not your fault." She made sure he didn't look away from her. "I'm sure she's fine. We're going to find her soon. And everything is going to be alright."

He took a deep breath, doing all he could to nod his head and keep his posture. But he was scared—she could see it—and there was nothing more she could say to help him. They had no idea when Octavia had last been seen in camp, and the more time passed, the more dangerous it could have been for her.

"We have to talk to Clarke," she said with resolution, but her words made him frown.

"Clarke?" he asked, and Lily nodded.

"We need help, Bellamy," she said, starting to look around to see if she could spot Clarke anywhere. "And help from everyone. Come on," she then made her way through the tents. She looked around, trying to observe everyone as closely as she could, since it was pitch black and the only light they had was the one that came from the torches. The fire shone with an orange light that usually calmed Lily—only looking at the color made her feel warm—but now there was no such effect. Her mind was racing as she looked at each face of every person she could glance upon. But there was no sign of Octavia.

They needed Clarke. A lot of people were angry at Bellamy, but Clarke could help them get their help. And she hoped that Clarke was willing to help. Then Lily called to Bellamy, gesturing to a tent where Clarke was sitting.

Bellamy took a breath before walking ahead of Lily to move the flap of the tent.

"You're up?" he asked, his voice shaking, but Clarke didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah," she answered, her tone filled with sarcasm, as she got up. "Knowing that hundreds of people might be dying on the Ark makes it pretty hard to sleep."

Lily dropped her gaze for a moment, thinking back to those poor people. And then she searched Bellamy with her eyes.

"Raven's flare will work." That was the first time Bellamy showed any kind of hope about the situation, and Lily found herself taking a step toward him.

"Her radio would've worked better," Clarke's answer came cold as steel, and it hit Lily as if Clarke had been mad at her. But she knew the venom in her voice was meant only for Bellamy.

Lily's heart clenched. She didn't know what he felt, but her heart felt heavy at those words. Somehow, she didn't want him to hear about the three hundred people anymore. Or maybe she didn't want to hear about it anymore…

"Clarke," she spoke, taking a step forward. Clarke's attention moved to her, with a little frown. "Have you seen Octavia?"

The girl seemed surprised by her asking, but she answered nonetheless. "No," she said. "But it's Octavia. She's probably chasing butterflies."

Lily blinked, and a small frown formed on her brows.

"No," Bellamy said with a shake of his head, his tone trembling with worry. "I've already checked the camp. She's not here."

"It's the middle of the night," Lily backed him up. "If she's not here, she could be in danger."

"If she isn't already," Bellamy said, and Lily couldn't stop herself from looking up at him. She knew he was right. He had said he'd seen Octavia early that morning—why hadn't she come back, if that was the case? The first thing that came to mind was that something had actually happened to her.

Her mind immediately went to what had happened to Jasper.

No, Lily. Don't panic! she scolded herself. She had to stay focused. Octavia was the priority right now, and she couldn't get distracted.

"Okay, I'll help you find her," Clarke said, finally understanding how dangerous the situation could be. Bellamy let out a little breath, sharing a look with Lily, before they both started to follow Clarke.

"Let's check again," she kept saying, glancing up at Bellamy. "You go to the dropship. I'll check the rest of the tents. Lily, you check the patrol posts, see if anyone saw her."

Lily nodded her head, her pace keeping up as she followed them.

"Thank you," Bellamy said to Clarke, but she didn't change her cold expression.

"Don't thank me," she answered. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Octavia."

Lily looked up at Bellamy, his face filled with worry.

As she was about to walk away from them to go to the closest patrol post, Lily put a hand on Bellamy's arm, making him turn.

"We'll find her," she said, trying to sound as reassuring as she could.

He looked at her silently for a moment, then finally nodded.

"Thank you, Lily," he said quietly.

Lily squeezed his arm gently, before turning to run to the patrol post.