❝the earth does not belong to us. we belong to the earth.❞

-marlee matlin, actress

♛

THE SCRATCHING OF MY pen against paper is the only sound in the otherwise silent room– or prison cell, if you want to get specific. My back aches from sitting against the concrete wall for so long. The notebook I've been writing in for the past hour is about the size of my hand, nearly filled with dozens of poems and journal entries from the past year of me being moved to Solitary. The ever-constant electrical hum of the Ark is practically background noise after dealing with it for seventeen years. 

I'm on a roll. I barely even think before transferring words from my head onto the worn paper. Several lines get filled before the pen stops moving abruptly, hovering over the page. I search my mind carefully for any words, any inspiration I might have. It's no use. I'm brain dead.

Sighing, I lean my head back against the cold wall and stare at my living quarters. The walls are littered with hundreds of quotes written in equally as many fonts, letters swirling around me in an almost dizzying pattern. On the floor is a gigantic sun with spirals and designs curling around it until it reaches the bases of the walls and ends. It's the least I can do to make my room a little bit interesting.

I had started my renovation project a few months after I had been locked into the cell. It only took that long for me to get sick of the confining, grey walls and single window that revealed twinkling stars throughout space. Having no one to talk to anymore made for long and boring days. Then again, I suppose it's better than having a cellmate attacking me like what happened before I was transported here. 

Suddenly, the door creaks open and brighter light floods in. I jump in surprise and stand immediately, watching in alarm as two guards enter the room. With my hands behind my back, I slip the pen and notebook into the back pocket of my black jeans before bringing my arms above my head.

"Prisoner one-three-eight, face the wall," one of the guards commands, and that's when I feel it– the fear that strikes my heart, then starts to flow to the rest of my body until I am completely encased in terror that makes my muscles grow heavy. However, I do as I'm told and turn toward the wall behind me. I let my eyes wander around the curls of the letters to prevent myself from freaking out any further.

But there is something else there as well. It's a flicker in my mind that starts to burn brighter the more I realize that something is wrong. "What's going on?"

"Be quiet," the other guard orders in a monotonous voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a thick metal bracelet gripped in his calloused hand. "Hold out your right arm."

"What?" I ask, more confusion buzzing in me. With the fear and puzzlement combined, it takes a surprising amount of effort to think rationally. My words come out jumbled and blend together on my tongue. "You can't do anything yet. I'm not of age–"

"I said, quiet. Hold out your arm." The wristband snaps open to reveal what looks like tiny, glowing needles poking out of it. The taller man flicks his wrist, unsheathing his baton that has volts of electricity surging through it. I know enough to understand that a single touch from that wand can knock me to the floor. "Take off the bracelet."

My hand immediately covers the bracelet I've kept on me for five years now, feeling the worn, cracked leather beneath my fingers. "No, it means a lot to me. Please let me keep it."

"Remove the jewelry." He reaches forward to take it off himself, and that's when I snap.

"No!" I cry, lunging out of his way so he hits the wall, but not before the leather snaps and the bracelet is in the guard's hand. He quickly shoves it in a pocket. I feel like all my spirits have been deflated like a balloon. Everything inside me grows hollow. My last connection to Clarke, gone. 

"Hey!" the guard with the electric baton holds out his weapon threateningly. In a blind move, I manage to messily punch him in the face and wince at the pain it brings. I put my hand over his and jam the stick into his side while he's still stunned. A cringe wrinkles my face at his bellow of pain as he strikes the floor. 

The remaining guard pulls me back onto my feet and secures my hands behind my back with a pair of handcuffs. However, while pretending to wriggle around and fight him, I reach into his pocket.

"Come on," he sighs in exasperation, forcing me to walk out into the hallway. I turn my head to see many other prisoners being escorted from their cells as well, each accompanied by a guard or two and making for chaos in the Sky Box. Confused shouts fill the air. My brow wrinkles; what's going on?

After completing our trip through the Sky Box, the guard moves me into a single-file line and slaps one of the metal wristbands on my right arm. I wince at the sharp prick it brings about as the needles break through my skin. Then, once he knows I won't try and make a run for it, he unlocks the handcuffs. I sigh and bring my hands to my front again. My eyes narrow at the guard before I face forward.

All around me are fellow delinquents like myself, walking at a slow pace through hallway after hallway with no set destination in sight. I uneasily flicker my gaze around to gauge what's going on. There's nothing except for confused faces everywhere. This is a place on the Ark I've never been before, so there aren't any clues as to where we're headed.

And then a ship comes into view– a dropship. My heart takes a plunging dive into my stomach at the sight of it. Why the hell are we being loaded into a dropship? Isn't the Earth simmering in radiation? At least, that's the information we've all been spoonfed for ninety-seven years. 

I don't have the time to ask anyone, because within the next five minutes, I'm strapped to a chair along the wall of the ship. My hands clench the handles so tightly the bone shows beneath my skin. My stomach swarms with nerves that make me feel like I'm going to be sick. 

It takes a seemingly long fifteen minutes for the rest of the people to be loaded on. The ship appears to have several levels, and I'm on the third. How many people are being sent to the ground along with me? The unanswered questions hurtling around in my head are starting to make an ache blossom in my temples.

I turn to see a girl sitting to my right. She's about my age, with long, dark hair and a strong jawline. She sets it anxiously as her light eyes sweep around the dropship.

"Hey," I say to her, causing her to turn to me in slight surprise. "Do you know what's going on?"

The girl shrugs, lips pursed in indifference. "No idea. I'm just glad to be out of that hell-hole commonly called the Ark." She pauses and looks up at a small monitor attached to the wall as it crackles to life, where Chancellor Jaha's face appears. Her face turns stormy and her glare sharpens. "Great."

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," he orders calmly. "You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there." The lights flicker dangerously. I look around, examining the other people who seem to be paying the Chancellor every bit of their attention. I, however, can't help but feel uneasy every time I see his face. "–those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean." The ship rattles even more and the girl beside me grunts as we hit a particularly hard bump.

"The drop site has been chosen carefully," the Chancellor continues. "Before the last war, Mount Weather" – colorful pixels interrupt his speech, causing his voice to be muffled for a second – "was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough nonperishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years."

I hear shouts from below us, coming from the second level. His voice becomes background noise as I try to focus on the voices to calm my buzzing nerves. Before I can listen for long, people start whooping and cheering for someone named Finn. It doesn't take me long to find a boy who is floating around the dropship, suspended in the air due to the absence of gravity. He has an extremely smug expression as he coasts along with his arms folded across his chest. The girl beside me laughs along with me, because it does look a little funny from here, especially with his shoulder-length brown hair hanging down.

Two boys by us start unbuckling their seatbelts; that's when begin to feel uneasy. It doesn't take a genius to know that the landing will be rough. Earth Science class has taught me enough about the atmosphere for me to remember that it won't accept us kindly.

"What's your name?" the girl beside me questions, and I turn my attention to her. She now has a welcoming expression on her dimly lit face.

"Fallon," I answer. "What about you?"

"Octavia," she replies tentatively, like she expects me to lash out or recognize her from somewhere. But I don't, and she seems relieved.

Without warning, the parachutes deploy before I can respond. Something goes wrong instantly. The lights start malfunctioning like mad and a steampipe is blown, sending steam through the tight space and smothering the air. I hear panicked screams from below. The boys without seatbelts slam into the walls with loud thuds. I shield my eyes as sparks of electricity rain down on us, filling the air with the scent of smoke and fuel. Octavia lets out a squeal of surprise when more crashes follow the sparks. The dropship starts shaking back and forth rapidly. I clutch the red seatbelts until it hurts, praying that we don't die before we even make it to Earth.

But we don't, miraculously, and I open my eyes to see the lights are dim but still working. It's quiet.

"Listen," an Asian boy against the far wall says. "No machine hum."

"We made it," Octavia breathes, leaning her head back against the seat with a relieved grin on her face. "Oh God, we made it!"

The seats hiss as the thick straps release us; I click my seatbelt open, shrugging the straps from my shoulders. I stand and stretch with a relieved grin as Octavia does the same. The short ride seems to have tightened every muscle in my body. I crack my neck and knuckles, rotating my shoulders a bit to loosen them up.

"Hey, the doors are on the lower level!" a male voice yells excitedly.

"Let's go!" another agrees with the same tone. They both rush to the ladder that's closed off by a hatch.

"No, we can't just open the doors!" someone else yells in protest. This time, the voice is distinctly female and slightly hoarse.

"I know that voice," I mumble absentmindedly. Octavia is still stretching, lifting her arms above her head and rising on her toes. "You look like you're taking your time."

"I want to be loosened up when we get out there," she replies. "I can't wait to be free."

I smile at her, finding her joy contagious. "Neither can I."

Octavia leads the way to the open hatch on the floor and starts to climb carefully. She gets about halfway down before freezing in place. Her jaw drops in shock and her eyes widen. "Bellamy?"

I follow and wait patiently for her to climb the rest of the way down. When she does, I watch with interest as she pushes through the crowd by the door. She seems to be heading toward a man in a guard uniform who is standing by the front. It's hard to determine his features with the way he's standing– right by the lever that opens the door and encased in shadows.

"That's the girl who hid under the floor," I hear someone whisper not-so-quietly as Octavia steps closer to the man.

"My God, look how big you are," he comments, and I'm immediately confused since he sounds years older than Octavia. She wraps him in a hug for a few seconds before releasing him.

"What the hell are you wearing, a guard's uniform?" she demands, scrutinizing him from head to toe. 

"I borrowed it to get on the dropship," the man replies as he tugs at the jacket. There's a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Octavia lets out a humored laugh and hugs him again.

"Hey, are you gonna move, or what?" A sharp voice asks from above me. I roll my eyes and jump the rest of the way down, merging into the back of the crowd that has gathered around the two.

"No one has a brother!" Someone shouts.

"That's Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor!" A female voice yells, which causes an uproar of comments from the crowd. Octavia lunges at them, but the man – her brother, I guess – holds her back.

"Octavia! Octavia, no." She starts to calm down at her brother's command, but glares sharply in the person's direction. "Let's give them something else to remember you by."

"Yeah? Like what?" she demands sharply. 

"Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years."

I cough. "Ninety-seven."

The anxiety stifling the room is palpable as the man puts his hand on the lever beside him, hesitating for a second before pulling it. Dust spills out of the door as it hisses open. Blinding light enters the room. And the door reveals the planet we've been waiting almost a hundred years to get back on.

At first I can't see; the sunlight is too blinding. But the more I blink, the more quickly my eyes adjust, and soon I am looking at trees and the sun is poking through the leaves, and it is beautiful. More beautiful than any picture in any book could ever capture. I've never seen so much vibrant color in my life, except for Clarke's colored pencils and paints.

Clarke. If only she could see this. I can imagine the expression lighting up her face as the sunlight leaks into her eyes. Her mind would probably conjure up a painting and her hand would itch for a brush. I miss her more than most things from my past life on the Ark.

Octavia sucks in a huge breath of air and nothing happens to her, so we all figure it's safe to breathe. She steps onto the platform, taking careful steps forward until she's at the edge. She milks her 'one small step for man' moment, staring at her feet before she steps down with a bounce, her boots landing on the soft earth.

I watch with wonder in my eyes as she looks around, swinging her arms above her head with sudden excitement and yelling at the top of her lungs, "We're back, bitches!"

Instantly, the entire dropship starts cheering, and I'm almost trampled as people start rushing out with newfound energy that certainly wasn't there a few minutes ago. I smile and jog to Octavia, whose smile is lighting up her face.

"How does freedom feel?" I ask. My cheeks are starting to hurt because I can't stop grinning.

Octavia looks up at me, her green eyes shining from the sunlight and the irrepressible joy of being on the ground. "Like nothing I could have ever imagined."

We both laugh. Octavia's brother comes up behind her, pulling her into a side hug. She playfully punches his stomach and that's when he notices me. I can see his face clearly for the first time. The man has olive-toned skin with just the lightest hint of freckles across his nose. The long structure of his face is only more pronounced by the way that his black hair is styled back with gel. I can guess that he's probably in his early twenties. He is very attractive, no doubt, but someone has to fix his hair. The gelled look isn't good on him.

We stare at each other for a moment without saying a word. Just as I'm about to turn away due to the awkward atmosphere, he nods at me and walks away, wandering into the planet that is ours.

And wow, it's amazing to see my favorite color again.

I'm so excited that I don't know where to start. Do I run? Do I stay? I don't know, but I don't care. We're on Earth– that's all that matters.

Realization strikes me suddenly and contrasts greatly to the joy I had been feeling prior to it. Something isn't right. Mount Weather is where we should have landed, but this place looks nothing like a mountain should.

I wander to the right of the ship, wondering where we could be if this isn't Mount Weather. And where will we find food? Shelter?

As I walk into the trees, I look around at my surroundings. The brightness of the sun is still hurting my eyes, but I figure I'll get used to it soon enough. The gravity is a lot stronger than the artificial stuff on the Ark. I'll have to be careful where I step.

I reach out and run my fingers over the bark of the trees, which is a lot rougher than I imagined. Countless wildflowers bloom around the area and their strong floral scent wafts up my nose. Nothing is how I expected it to be. There are so many new variables that are overwhelming my senses.

I see a blonde girl standing at the edge of a drop off. It looks like she's holding some sort of map. The boy who took a gravity-free ride is beside her, looking over her shoulder as she shows him something on the map.

"–that's Mount Weather," I hear her say, and it clicks. It's her. The voice is so familiar; how did I miss it?

"Clarke!" I somewhat scream, which is kind of embarrassing, but at least it gets her attention. She turns around, confused, then her eyes land on me. Her expression changes instantly; her jaw drops open. Disbelief takes over her features.

"Fallon?"

I run full-speed toward her with no hesitation. The map falls out of her hand, she opens her arms, and we nearly crush each other in a hug. She's short now - I have about two inches on her - and she cut her hair. Which means I win.

When I pull away, I grab her shoulders, looking her dead in the eyes. She looks vaguely different from when I had seen her last. Besides the length of her hair and height, she also has color to her cheeks and more definition to the shape of her face. I wonder how different I must look to her.

"How did you get arrested and you have to tell me every single detail," I ramble, not making the question sound like a question with how quickly the words come out.

Clarke laughs, but I sense a type of sadness in her in the way that she avoids my gaze. "That's a story for another time. Look at you– you're actually tall!"

"Prison was boring, so I decided it would be a good time to go ahead and grow," I joke lightheartedly. An astounding amount of joy is swarming inside of me, and I don't know what to do with it. It feels like pure sunlight is going to burst from my body.

"Still here," Gravity boy remarks as he waves a hand. He's holding the map in the other, meaning he must have picked it up for Clarke after she dropped it. His shoulder-length hair frames his rounded face well. He has light brown eyes and a carefree aura to his muscled frame.

"Sorry." I tuck a strand of dark hair behind my ear. I notice with dismay that the long strands have gotten messy from the breeze already. I stick out my hand. "I'm Fallon."

"Finn." He accepts the handshake and then glances at the map. "So what were you saying about that mountain?"

Clarke sighs. "That peak over here is–"

"Mount Weather," I finish, realization hitting me forcefully as my eyes examine the shadowy mountain. It's many miles away from where we stand. An entire area of woods separates us from the peak. My heart sinks.

Clarke nods. "There's a radiation-soaked forest between us and our next meal." She pauses, her lips pressed tightly together. "They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain."

In my head I calculate the distance, figuring it would take us about a day and a half to reach the top. Maybe two if we're slow or stop to gawk.

"I hope you guys like adventures," I say, then turn around and start to walk back.

"Fallon, wait!" Clarke's voice stops me. I wait for her to catch up and notice Finn lagging behind. "You have to tell me everything."

"Not until you spill," I counter teasingly. "I've missed a lot. It's been two years, Clarke. For all I know, the Ark could have collided with an alien planet and they'd never tell me about it."

"I see you still have that wandering imagination," Clarke comments with a soft smile, but deep down, I know she's glad I haven't changed much.

I shrug, looking down at my feet as my weatherproof boots sink into the soft dirt with every step. "There's not much you can do when sitting in captivity except dream."

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i had to watch season 1 for the third time in a week to write this. do i care? no.

~kristyn