That night, Lily tossed and turned without finding any rest. Her mind was too busy circling around her missing wristband.
After it had broken against her skin, Lily had the chance to speak with Monty—and apparently, since he was sure he had figured out how to contact the Ark through the wristband, he had ended up frying them all. No one had theirs anymore.
It was a strange feeling. She still remembered when she'd thought about pulling it off on their first night on Earth. After that day—after discovering there was a reason behind their sudden departure—she had never wanted to take it off again. It had become almost natural to feel it wrapped around her arm, to touch it from time to time. But now it was gone. Her last link with the Ark. Her last connection to Marcus Kane.
She wondered if he had already seen that her signal was gone. If he was sad, thinking she was dead. Or maybe angry, or remorseful. Or maybe he had just felt nothing. His only concern was probably losing their only chance at the Ark's survival. Always the same dignified and cold Councilor Marcus Kane.
Do you care a little? she thought, as if asking him directly. As if he could answer.
Lily pushed her hair back from her face and sat up in the quiet shadows of the dropship. She felt torn—angry at herself for still wanting Marcus to react, to feel something, anything. But she couldn't stop replaying the memory of how he'd let the guards drag her away to the dropship, offering no goodbye, not even a word of encouragement. He hadn't known whether she'd survive—and still, he hadn't cared enough to say farewell. Why should he care now?
Lily wanted to move on, to let all this pain go and forget about her father. But knowing that Marcus was on the Ark, a dying spaceship, thinking they were all dead—that made her worry. Dying up there would be awful. Even if death was always awful.
Why do I care if he doesn't? she asked herself.
Suddenly, voices outside cut through the silence.
"Hey, come here!" someone called, breathless with excitement. Lily tensed instantly, nerves on edge, fearing some new danger. But then she heard more voices—gasps and cries that sounded… almost joyful.
What the hell was happening?
She pushed herself to her feet and quickly crossed to the dropship hatch. She wasn't the only one—other delinquents were stirring, drifting out of sleep, drawn toward the commotion outside.
As Lily stepped out, the cold night air hit her bare arms like ice. People were gathering, staring upward, their faces lit by a pale glow. Lily frowned and followed their gaze.
And then she saw it. Something was streaking across the sky, trailing fire as it fell.
"Bellamy, get out here!" Octavia's voice rang out sharply, slicing through the night. Her eyes were fixed on the fiery streak blazing closer with every passing second.
Lily stood a few steps away, half-hidden in the shadows. Her breath hitched as the flap of Bellamy's tent shifted—and then he stepped out into the pale silver wash of moonlight, shirtless, hair disheveled, but his eyes already scanning around.
She and Bellamy hadn't talked since what had happened the night before. Not at all.
For a split second, something twisted in Lily's chest. The memory of how close they'd come to kissing sparked like static under her skin, leaving her raw and restless. She tore her gaze away, jaw tight.
Pull yourself together, she scolded herself. You've seen him like this before. It doesn't mean anything.
But then the flap rustled again—and Roma slipped out, wrapped in a blanket, hair falling loose over her shoulders. Then another girl followed, probably Bree.
Lily felt her mouth go dry. A faint, sharp pressure settled behind her ribs—cold and tight.
Of course. A humorless scoff caught in her throat. What had she expected, exactly?
She dragged her eyes away, forcing herself to focus on the crowd outside. People were craning their necks, staring upward. Lily followed their gaze again.
The bright shape streaked through the sky, coming closer and closer. Flames licked around its hull as it plunged lower and lower. For a moment, her brain refused to process it. Then, as the object tumbled closer, she recognized the bulky, round silhouette.
A dropship.
Shock twisted in her chest. The Ark was sending something—or someone—down.
Above them, the parachute burst open at last, white silk unfurling like a wound blooming in the darkness.
"They're coming to help us," Jones said, relief in his voice. "Now we can kick some Grounder ass."
Lily unfolded her arms over her chest, the cold biting into her skin. Who had they sent down? A part of her wanted to feel hope at the sight of the dropship. Could Marcus have come to help them? But wasn't that dropship too small? It didn't look like the one they had been sent down on.
As the dropship disappeared from view, someone turned toward Bellamy.
"Do you think it landed far?"
"Shouldn't they have dropped it closer to us?" Roma asked with a little frown.
Bellamy didn't answer, and Lily felt the urge to turn. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder.
Bellamy was still staring at the sky—but there was nothing relieved or hopeful in his expression. His eyes were tight, shadowed, his jaw locked so hard a muscle ticked near his temple. His whole posture was rigid, like he was bracing for a blow.
Lily frowned, studying him, annoyance twisting into something sharper. Why did he look so bothered? That expression reminded her of the first days after landing—his obsession with wristbands, his indifference about the dying Ark. But this time, it was different. There was something she couldn't name. And before she could study him more, he noticed her gaze. His eyes grew cold, then turned away.
"Jones, get the others and come in my tent," he said, striding away.
Could she ever truly understand Bellamy Blake? She wasn't sure anymore. When she thought badly of him, he acted brave and protective. And when she started thinking well of him, he turned cold, distant, even dangerous.
Her mind flashed back to when he gave Wells the knife to fight Murphy. And to how he had pushed that bucket under Murphy's feet. All of that should have made her afraid of him—disgusted. But then there was how he cared for Octavia, how he'd protected Charlotte, saved Clarke's and her life, how he hadn't been able to kill Atom. Things she couldn't forget either.
Who are you, Bellamy? she wondered, watching him walk away, quick and tense. What are you hiding?
"Seems like the Ark wanted to see if we're still alive," Jasper's voice made Lily turn. He was walking toward her, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Let's hope," she said. If they knew the hundred were alive, there could still be hope for their people.
"I'm sorry I fried the wristbands," he said. Monty had told her Jasper was the one who connected the wire that ended up frying them. Monty felt guilty for not foreseeing it, and Jasper felt guilty for making the connection.
But Lily didn't agree. She looked up at him with a gentle smile and touched his forearm.
"Don't be silly," she said. "We're doing what we can with what we have. Things like this happen."
Jasper gave her a small smile before glancing toward Bellamy's tent.
"What do you think they'll do?" he asked. "Clarke's not here."
That was true. Clarke had disappeared with Finn the night before. Since she and Bellamy usually made decisions together, that left Bellamy in charge.
"Probably they'll go look for the dropship," she guessed. Whoever had landed would be confused and vulnerable out there.
"Would you go?" he asked curiously.
Lily's eyes shifted toward Bellamy's tent. She wanted to go. She was curious. But she didn't want to talk to him. Not now.
"It's not up to me," she said, glancing at Jasper. "I don't make the rules."
With a last smile, she made her way to the medical tent. She had been organizing it for days—there was still so much to do: plants, infusions, basic remedies.
I can't sleep anyway, she thought, passing by Bellamy's tent.
She wondered what they were deciding inside. But she wouldn't ask. If he needed her help, he would come to her. But something told her he wouldn't. And honestly, she preferred it that way.
Her eyes immediately found the place where they'd sat the night before. She flushed, still feeling his touch against her skin, his lips leaning closer.
I'm being silly, she thought, tearing her gaze away from the chairs. They'd been emotional, overwhelmed by Charlotte and Murphy.
It doesn't mean anything, she told herself, trying not to focus on the tight, heavy sensation in her chest.
With a final look at the chairs, Lily knelt beside a makeshift table—a dented metal panel pried from the dropship, now resting on two stacked crates.
Around her, salvaged plastic cups and food tins held dried plants in various stages of preparation.
The inside of the tent smelled faintly of crushed leaves and damp earth.
She picked up a flat stone she'd found by the river and began grinding a strip of bark with a rounded pebble, slow and steady. It was crude, but it worked. The friction released a bitter, sharp scent—salicin. Good for fever.
Next, she sorted through some mallow and yarrow leaves, laying them carefully on a folded cloth. They needed to dry completely before she could turn them into poultices.
Her hands moved with quiet precision, but her mind refused to settle. Every time she brushed a strand of hair from her face, her gaze flicked to the chairs again—remembering Bellamy's touch.
God, Lily. Stop, she scolded herself.
Just as well, she thought, setting the bark powder aside and reaching for the next bundle of herbs. She had work to do.
Time passed without her noticing. The only moments she looked up were when the tent flap rustled. But no one came.
She didn't know how long she had been working before someone finally stepped inside. Her heart skipped a beat—but it was only Harper.
She felt oddly disappointed.
She really needed to pull herself together.
"No sleep?" Harper asked, moving to the barrel of clear water they had stored there. She was a sweet girl. Lily had spoken with her a few times. She still wondered what someone like her had done to end up among the hundred—but never dared to ask.
"Not quite," Lily replied with half a smile.
Harper nodded. "I need to fill these bottles," she said, showing the containers they had found in the dropship.
"Don't let me stop you," Lily replied, returning to her work. She heard Harper chuckle as she moved to the barrels.
Lily glanced up briefly—just as Harper passed by those chairs. Her thoughts went back to Bellamy again.
"I thought you'd be with the group going after the dropship," Lily asked, trying to sound casual.
"I am, actually," Harper said. Lily frowned and looked up.
"Bellamy said we'll go in the morning."
"In the morning?" she repeated, watching Harper nod while filling the last bottle. "What if they need help now?"
"I don't know," Harper said with a shrug. "Bellamy's orders. Try to get some sleep."
Then she left Lily alone in the tent, her head buzzing with questions.
That didn't make sense. Whoever had landed might need help. And they needed them.
What are you doing, Bellamy? she wondered. Would he really care so little about the people on the Ark?
But Lily knew Bellamy cared. She was sure of it.
Then why wouldn't he want their people to come down? Was it just anger?
Can it be? she asked herself.
Her leg bounced up and down nervously. She was trying to shake off that feeling—the one that told her to go ask Bellamy what he was doing, and why he wasn't leading a party to the dropship. She wanted to understand if he even knew that someone might need their help.
Do you even care? she asked herself as her eyes kept darting toward the flap of the tent. With a groan, she finally rose to her feet, brushing dust from her knees, and headed toward the entrance, silently reproaching herself for not being able to stop needing clarification from him.
"Not everything needs fixing, Lily," she remembered Murphy telling her. And maybe that was true. But people needed help—and if Bellamy was being selfish, she wanted to hear it from him.
She moved the flap with her hand to step outside. It was still dark, but dawn wasn't far off. The air felt less chilly than it had in the middle of the night. Probably in an hour, the sun would start casting that beautiful orange glow just above the trees. Dawn was probably Lily's favorite thing she had seen on Earth so far.
"Lily," Clarke's voice made her turn to see her and Finn walking toward her.
"Where have you been?" Lily asked, and she didn't miss the small glance Clarke and Finn exchanged—a subtle smile crossed both their faces. They seemed closer than they had been before. Much closer. Lily felt her lips twitch upward but chose to let it go. Crossing her arms, she asked, "Have you seen the dropship?"
Clarke's eyes lit up at the mention. "We should go find out who it is," she said quickly. "Did someone already leave?"
Lily let out a breath, the faint smile vanishing from her face, and her expression made Finn frown. "No one left," she explained. "Harper just told me Bellamy wants to go in the morning."
"In the morning?" Clarke asked with a confused frown. Lily shared the sentiment entirely.
"Where is he?" Clarke pressed, her tone firmer now.
"I was about to go talk to him," Lily answered, and Clarke gave a short nod.
"Let's go together."
Lily let Clarke walk past her while she and Finn exchanged another look. "Worried about something?" he asked. Lily looked down.
There were many reasons she wanted to speak with Bellamy, and only one of them made her truly nervous. She had carried suspicions about him since they landed, and now it felt like she couldn't let them go.
"No, it's alright," she replied quietly, following Clarke, but her mind was entirely on Bellamy. Why did he want to keep the Ark away? Anger? Resentment? But the whole thing about getting everyone to remove their wristbands had always seemed like more than just defiance. It almost felt like he didn't want to keep the Ark away at all—but then, why? He hated the privileged, she knew that. But the working class? He came from that life. Didn't he care about those people? And now someone had crashed on the ground. Maybe he thought it was someone from the elite.
Maybe he thinks it's Marcus, the thought only crossed her mind now. What if it was Marcus? What if he ended up in the woods, alone, caught by Grounders? She resented him for many things, but she didn't want him to be vulnerable down here, not knowing what dangers surrounded them. And she hated that she still felt so much worry about her father's well-being.
"Be kind, Lily," she muttered to herself as Clarke moved the flap of Bellamy's tent and stepped inside. Lily followed quickly—and immediately wished she hadn't. Bellamy wasn't there. But Roma and Bree were, wearing nothing but their underwear, both scrambling to grab something to cover themselves.
"Ever heard of knocking, bitch?" Roma snapped at Clarke, just before noticing Lily. "Oh, great. It's a freak show." She groaned when Finn entered as well, looking around with a frown. "Anyone else want to take a look?"
Lily felt a surge of anger rise in her chest. She let out a slow breath. "Nobody cares, Roma," she said flatly. "Where's Bellamy?"
"He took off a while ago," Roma answered with a shrug, and Lily's eyes widened. He took off? Where?
"Gear's gone," Finn said with a worried tone, drawing both Clarke's and Lily's attention toward the pile of missing supplies. What the hell was going on?
"He told everyone to stay," Clarke said in alarm, turning to Finn. "Whatever's in that thing, he wants it. We've got to get there before he does."
Lily was confused. What could possibly be inside that dropship to make him act like this? What was he looking for? He couldn't be doing this just out of anger or resentment. What if he's scared? she thought. That was the only thing that made sense. The way he'd acted since their landing, the way he was acting now—leaving on his own, like he had something to face alone. Maybe he was scared of something in that dropship. Or of someone. But why? And what was he planning to do?
"This isn't your fault, Clarke," Finn said, noticing how tense she was.
"I should've known he'd go for that radio," Clarke's words made Lily frown.
"What radio?" she asked, voicing her confusion as she stepped forward to walk beside Clarke. The girl turned to her.
"That ship is too small to be a dropship," Clarke explained, "but there could be a radio."
"We could speak to the Ark," Lily said, thinking out loud. They could let them know they weren't dead. That Earth was survivable. That meant they could follow them down soon. "Oh my God…" Lily suddenly realized. Bellamy might really want that radio. He didn't want them to contact the Ark—just like he hadn't wanted them to keep the wristbands. Could he actually be trying to take away their last chance to talk to the Ark?
Why, Bellamy? she thought as she followed Clarke and Finn, not fully listening to what they were saying. She was too wrapped up in thoughts of what Bellamy might do—and, more importantly, why. No one would do something like that out of pure anger. That was fear. But what could scare him so deeply?
She had no way of knowing. Bellamy was closed off, and he never shared much about himself. But if she'd learned one thing about him, it was that, deep down, he was a good person. Slay your demons, he had told Charlotte that night in the cave, so they wouldn't be able to hurt her while awake. What are you so scared of? Her heart ached with both sorrow and worry. He could make dangerous decisions when he wasn't thinking clearly. The way he had kicked that bucket still made her tremble. He had done it because he saw no other way out.
We have to stop him, she thought, clenching her fists.
"Clarke," she said, catching up to her and making both her and Finn turn toward her, "I'm coming too." Clarke observed her in silence for a moment. Her eyes seemed to study her, searching for something, but in the end, she didn't argue. She simply nodded. "Let's go."
Lily felt a strange heaviness settle in her chest. She wanted to understand what was wrong with Bellamy—what could drive him to act this way. She had spent too long trying to figure him out, asking herself questions he would never answer unless pushed. Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was none of her business. But she couldn't help it. And if he was walking into something alone—scared, angry, or ready to do something unforgivable—she needed to be there. She didn't know exactly why, but she wanted to understand. To stop him, if she had to. Or maybe just to prove to herself that she hadn't been wrong about him. Or maybe, that she had.