─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"WELLS! NO!"

The scream came from the pit of June's stomach. It was broken, full of the deep emotion of grief, scratching her throat raw. Grief was more than a feeling, June realized. It tore apart her insides, it left her wanting to bring Wells back but knowing there was absolutely nothing she could do. Wells was gone.

The words repeated in June's head again and again. It was like an echo, as she cradled Wells head in her hands. She pleaded, God, no, please, anyone but Wells. But her skin was beginning to drench in blood, and she would scrub her skin raw later to get the color off, but right now she grieved in dry sobs. There was so much blood, and she was beginning to think she was soaking in it. She could feel nothing, but everything all at once. All she wanted was for him to wake up, make his dark eyes blink a few times, and light up in the color full of love she's always known. But Wells wasn't going to wake up, and June knew that. She didn't want to.

June didn't realize she was screaming until she was joined by Clarke and Bellamy, and a few other delinquents gasping and watching in the distance. June couldn't look up. She couldn't stop screaming, so rough and broken, but made out no words. It was just endless, painful wails of her best friend's name as she stroked the side of his face, leaving blood trails against the dark skin. The world around June feels as if it had gone silent, no birds chirping, no trees shaking in the breeze, nothing except the mixtures of sobs and screams.

Where was June? She should have stayed, she thought. She should have insisted to Wells that she could help, or even dug the grave herself. Wells was dead, and it was her fault. She came down to Earth to protect him, watch out for him as he did for her all those years. She needed him, here, not gone. June should have saved him. They were supposed to have more time together, spent looking after the other delinquents. But she was left alone now.

Wells was dead.

Another scream tore from June's throat.

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THREE DAYS LATER.

The mud dug into June's knees, staining her pants as she knelt down in front of the familiar grave. She stuck the shovel in it as a tombstone and decorated it in flowers for his memory, Wells's memory. She didn't remember burying him, it was a moment too emotional and painful as his body was lowered into the ground. June drew in a shaky breath, still unable to believe it, despite residing in front of his grave. She knew Clarke was worried about June isolating herself, unmoving from Wells grave unless she really had to. But she didn't care.

June carried grief, a heavy weight, but there was more. She blamed herself most of all. She told herself repeatedly that is she had insisted on helping Wells dig the grave, he'd still be alive. Or even if she dug it herself, allowing Wells to get rest, maybe the grounder would have attacked her instead and she'd be the one buried. Remembering the blood coating her skin, pouring from the wound on Wells's neck, a single tear streamed down her cheek. June wanted it to have been her. At least this pain of sorrow would go away, but she knew it would only land on Wells.

The sound of footsteps behind her didn't make June move. She ignored them, instead reaching out and gently touching the last purple flower set over the grave. It felt electric, striking her with sparks of more agony. She was never going to stop mourning Wells, and his memory was going to live in June, she was sure. It was up to her to protect Clarke and the other delinquents, to show them ways of peace that Wells could not.

"June." Her name being spoken hardly made June flinch. "June, please come back inside." She knew it was Clarke, voice laced with sympathy, knowing she was taking this death harder. "The grounders can show up, and-"

"And stab me like they did Wells?" June finished for Clarke, dull and lifeless. She didn't make a move to turn around and face her. "Let them."

"I was gonna say, and I can't lose you too." Clarke's words made June slowly turn around, rising to her feet. She didn't even bother to brush the dirt off her knees. Clarke held emotion full of sorrow plastered on her face, blue eyes holding hurt. "Please, June. I can't.." Her voice broke and she shook her head, unable to continue.

Nodding, June understood what she meant. She was all Clarke had left, and Clarke was all she had left. "I only want to find who did this," she informed her, turning around and looking at the grave again. She could only picture Wells underneath the ground, still dead. He didn't deserve it, and whoever did this to him was going to pay.

"What do you want with them?" Clarke asked, almost concerned with how June was acting.

Her hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles white, as June lower lip curled. She was filled with a blinding rage, one that left her seeing nothing but red. "I want them dead." It was vengeance; it was fair. Only then could June began to move on with her mourning.

"Wells wouldn't want that," Clarke said softly. June pretended she didn't hear because she knew she was right. Wells would never want his death to live on in violence, but the fury boiling inside of June's stomach overpowered the thought. "He believed in protecting people and peace. It's why he didn't tell me about my mother turning my father in." June paused, looking over her shoulder as Clarke went on. "My mother killed my father. I just wish there was something I could do, to tell her I know, make her feel what I'm..."

Clarke suddenly stopped with a glint of an idea glazing over her eyes. She spun around on her heel and began to storm off. June sighed, looking to Wells grave one last time. "I'll protect her," she promised in a soft whisper, hoping Wells died knowing that she would. "I'll keep her safe." She turned, pacing quickly.

"Where are you going?" June called out as she tried to keep up with the other who was approaching the gate to their camp.

"To make her feel it!" Clarke called back.

By the time June caught up, Clarke was in the dropship and Monty was prying her wristband off with a metal bar. "Woah, Clarke," June intervened, seeing her wince from the pain. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Clarke didn't hesitate in nodding. She knew her friend was mourning, as was she, but June remembered the feeling that came with her wristband being forced off. To be fair, this was for Clarke and her mother.

The wristband finally popped off, this time more skilled, as Monty held it carefully, studying the lights still beading up. "Yes!" He exclaimed. "I did it! It's still operational." June tried to smile, glad that he was ecstatic with himself but still worried about Clarke. She was rubbing her sore wrist with a smile on her face, equally pleased.

From where he stood propped against the dropship wall, Finn rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Clarke noticed and frowned. "What? Monty needed a working wristband," she defended herself.

"And you needed to punish your mother," Finn retorted knowingly.

June cleared her throat, catching Clarke's attention. She didn't want to be caught in the middle of this. "Later, Clarke." She could hear the useless protests coming, repeating in her ears but ignoring it as she exited the dropship and took a quick look around. The delinquents were assigned their own jobs and had spent time making weapons and building a better wall around the dropship. Bellamy had given both Clarke and June a break, due to them taking care of Jasper while mourning Wells.

June knew that Jasper had been given the green light to go for a short walk, in which Octavia offered to help. She didn't know when she'd be assigned a job and preferred working with Clarke and learning nursing skills. It's not like there were computers on Earth; yet, anyways. She wanted to find more skills that would make her useful.

Walking forward, June passed by her new hard-working friends that gave her a small smile. She could see the looks of pity and chose to ignore it, instead giving curt nods at the greetings. She stopped when seeing a very young girl, the one Bellamy had sent away before Atom died, tying knots. Her name is Charlotte, and June was sure she was the youngest one at the camp, where everyone else was mostly sixteen or seventeen. She faintly smiled, approaching her and putting a hand over her small one to stop the motion. "Hey, do you need some help?" She offered, noticing that the knots might not be tight enough to hold the wood together for a wall.

Charlotte tilted her head back, her big eyes full of something that June couldn't exactly put her finger on. She assumed she was only confused. "My dad was a guard, and his suit tore a lot. I had to learn how to sew and tie knots to hold the material together," she explained, taking over the knot that Charlotte pulled away from and showing her how to properly tighten it.

Watching as June's hands worked, Charlotte leaned forward, taking mental notes. June felt sorry for her, imagining being a young girl, frightened of not only what Earth held but being around a bunch of older delinquents. "See?" She spoke when she finished, tugging on the ends to show how tight the knot was. "If you need any help, just come find me." Charlotte smiled this time, nodding shyly.

There was a sudden commotion from not too far, catching June's attention and making her turn her head. There was a boy, Connor, crouched over a log and panting, trying to catch his breath. While she felt sympathetic, an irritated voice hadn't, that belonged to Murphy. "Hey! You think the grounders are just gonna sit around, and wait for us to finish the wall?" He snapped, storming forward. He pointed to Charlotte and June. "Maybe we should let the girls do the lifting for you, huh?"

Scoffing, June was disgusted by his disrespect towards Charlotte and her for the only fact that they were females. "Shut up, Murphy. He's tired. Not everyone is as empty as you, we all need breaks."

"Considering you haven't lifted in three days, I don't find that surprising," Murphy challenged June, striding forward and straightening up.

June's jaw clenched and her chin rose, moving to step forward, but a small hand grasping her wrist made her stop. It was Charlotte, using efforts trying to stop a fight from breaking out. "I just need some water, okay?" Connor spoke up, holding his throat weakly. "Then I'll be fine."

While June was prepared to go and fetch Connor a cup of water from their supply, Bellamy cut in with a hand on Murphy's shoulder. "Murphy, get this guy some water," he ordered before nodding to Charlotte. "Hey, you got this?" He questioned, motioning to the wood. Charlotte complied, assuming he was serious and moving to grab it.

"Bell-" June spoke up, ready to stop him for asking a young girl to lift an object that could weigh double what she did, but he quickly lurched forward and put a hand on Charlotte's arm, informing her he was only kidding with a smile. June couldn't force herself to like Bellamy, even after a soft moment like that, but she still smiled tenderly and motioned for Charlotte to help her finish tying the knots.

June loomed over Charlotte's shoulder, only checking to make sure she was doing the knots as tight as possible. The girl would look over a few times, waiting for a critical comment, but receiving nothing. June knew tying knots wasn't the most useful skill, but any little thing helped. If there was magically a computer, she'd figure she would be more help, but on Earth, the closest they had to an electronic was the dropship. That was Monty's area of expertise, though.

All of a sudden, Connor began shouting. June looked over to see what was wrong and gasped when seeing Murphy had his fly down and was urinating on Connor's back. "Oh my God, gross!" She exclaimed, moving to cover Charlotte's eyes as quickly as possible. She shielded her by turning her around before she could see, knowing that she was much too young to catch a glimpse of Murphy's package.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Murphy?!" Connor shouted, giving him a harsh shove. Two delinquents stepped in, holding him back before he could start a fight, which June wouldn't have minded.

Murphy tucked himself away and zipped back up before holding his hands up in defense, yet still had a smug look plastered on his face. "You wanted a water break," he reminded. "Get back to work!"

Repulsed, June shook her head, releasing Charlotte and patting her shoulder. "What a jerk," she muttered. She left Charlotte alone, moving to check on Connor. "Ignore him. Let's get you some water," she offered, touching his arm, the place Murphy didn't relieve himself on and considered something else. "And maybe a new jacket."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE 2/3/2020:

lmao hi from dakota from the future! if you're interested i rewrote wells's death scene in my misc book and it's 10x more sadder than this og.