All rights go to the writers of The 100 and film The Chronicles of Riddick for OC's name.
Warning: Rated M for graphic violence, profanity, sexual content, and dark themes.
[REWRITE] [Bellamy/OC] [AU] [Rated M] [Romance/Drama]
A ray of light glinted across Eve's placid face as she watched the twelve-inch knife twirl between her nimble fingers, and for a moment, the weight in her stomach lifted.
But only for a moment.
"Are you ready?" came a familiar voice.
Eve glanced over her shoulder to find Councilman Marcus Kane standing at her doorway, arms folded across his chest and a shoulder against the frame, his expression unreadable.
"Yes," she replied and turned away, "just need to grab a few things."
The room was quiet as she spent the next few minutes gathering her 'things'—a knife and map—the only items the Council permitted her. The knife slid into the inner sleeve of her boot with ease, and with the map stored safely in her back pocket, she moved to the foot of her bare mattress. Her hesitant gaze landed on the metal apparatus resting on the soft fabric. It'd been taunting her since a guard dropped it off a few hours ago.
Eve took a deep breath and brought the contraption over her wrist, and braced herself for the painful clamp when Marcus's voice appeared again. "Allow me," he offered.
She stood there with her hand over it as she listened to Marcus move across the room with an even steady stride, his footsteps echoing louder until finally, a pair of dark-brown eyes appeared in front of her. She met them with equal stoicism, like stone hitting stone.
His gaze dropped to the wristband. "It's easier if someone else does it," he explained, holding out his hand.
Eve eyed him, wondering if he'd destroyed one of the last remaining wristbands to sabotage her mission. After all, his opposition against the Council's decision to send her to Earth couldn't have been more adamant. For a year, he argued that she'd be more valuable on the Ark when chaos would erupt in the coming weeks. They would need an executioner, and who better for the task than their executive officer Major Logan?
She hadn't been too fond of the idea, and he'd never admit it, but he knew as much as the Council that she'd provoke more chaos than control. After increasing the residential searches last year, she'd lost favor in many parts of the ship and became one of the most hated officers. If the Council brought her on to do the dirty work, it'd tear the ship apart.
But they needed her, Marcus had said.
The Council heard his words and then responded in the same manner as they'd done for years—a slam of the gavel with an execution date on top.
And now, Marcus Kane, a man of conviction and resilience, stood before his adopted daughter, knowing she was going to be stuffed into a decrepit shuttle and hurtled through space until she landed on Earth—a planet recovering from its nuclear ruin—and could do nothing about it. Even if he sabotaged her bracelet, the Council would still send her down along with a hundred criminals, some of whom would love her head on a silver platter.
Her demise was inevitable. They both knew it.
She handed him the wristband.
With a simple click, the clamps sealed around her wrist. She stifled a yelp, but Marcus still raised an eyebrow at the pained look on her face.
"That hurt," she insisted, rubbing at the area.
"I've seen you handle worse."
Oh, so that was what she was now? A punching bag? She shot him a pointed look.
His mouth pulled at the corners, and before she could turn to leave, his hand landed on her arm. With a slow turn of her wrist, he observed the set of green, blinking lights embedded into the thick, metal band. "These lights indicate vital sign readings," he explained. "They'll show the Ark you're still alive. So if by some miracle the Ground is safe, make sure these are always on."
Eve stared at the lights as she imagined her vital signs on display next to a hundred others in the control room—all blinking red once Earth's radiation set into their bodies.
"Yes, sir," she replied, lifting her gaze. His stoic demeanor held on a little longer before it cracked, and she saw a glimpse of the grieving man beneath.
The back of her throat twisted into a knot.
No, she couldn't look at that—wouldn't. Not now when she needed strength, and if Marcus's following words involved anything short of perseverance or courage, she knew her resolve would crumble.
Without another word, she turned away and all but scurried toward the dining section. Her eyes fell to the dark-tinted jacket slouched over the metal chair of her coffee table, the one she left out for today's special occasion. As she shrugged it on, the polyester fabric felt cold against her skin, her long, dark tail of hair landing with a pat as she pulled it out from under. To the casual observer, the hooded garment resembled a regular flight jacket produced on the Ark—a makeshift piece with incorporated patches and zippers for seams—however, in light of her soon-to-be home, she installed a thin holster in the front and stored a small blade at the end of each sleeve. Not that any of it would really deter the others from ripping her apart if they caught her scent.
The Council had assured her that most of the inmates she arrested throughout her career were gone, and the handful remaining, she'd just need to avoid.
They made it sound so easy.
The thought of running off once the ship landed crossed her mind. She'd find safety and wait for the Ark to follow a few days later.
A plausible idea…if Eve hadn't made promises—the kind that couldn't be broken.
The Chancellor had instructed her to protect his son, Wells Jaha, as well as Clarke Griffin—the Head Doctor's daughter—during her time on the Ground and considering he'd been the one to secure her spot on the ship instead of expelling her into space, refusing hadn't been an option.
The run-and-hide routine wasn't her style anyway.
"I know you feel that you need to do this," Marcus's calm voice filled the room again. She continued preparing as if he hadn't spoken, reaching beneath her pillow for the loaded gun she'd acquired after calling in a few favors and doing a bit of ass-kissing. She didn't bother hiding it from him as she slid into her holster with a soft click. If he wanted to report her to the Council for unauthorized possession, then fine—whatever—but she wasn't going to Earth without it.
His light footsteps grew closer behind her.
Tugging at the end of her jacket and double-checking the pockets, she pretended to be busy, hoping he wouldn't continue.
"But I want you to know that you don't have to."
Eve stopped, a hand still in her jacket. Then, with a heavy sigh, she wheeled around to face him. "It's done, Marcus. There's nothing you or I can do about it, so just-" She paused. She didn't want to argue, not when it was the last time she'd ever see him. So instead, she breathed in through her nose and sighed. "Just let it go."
"I know—I am," he assured and then said nothing for a long time, which was odd. But then Eve realized—with surprising shock—that he was struggling to find the right words. He didn't know what to say for the first time in her life, and Marcus Kane always knew what to say. Always knew the magic words to mediate any situation.
As if he could hear her thoughts, a soft smile grazed his aged face, and he took a step closer. A firm but light hand landed on her shoulder, and her mouth became dry as his eyes met hers.
"What I mean is I know you feel you need to do this after…everything…but you don't because you're the best damn officer the Ark has ever had, and nothing will ever change that. Nothing." His emotions nearly broke through as his face contorted, but he managed to hold it in as he cleared his throat. "And I want you to know," he continued, "I couldn't be prouder of you." His eyes were glassy now, a sad smile teetering on his thin lips, and after a moment, his hand extended out to her. "It's been my greatest privilege to be a part of your life, Eve Logan."
Her eyes fell to his hand. The unbearable weight in her stomach grew tenfold. The time for goodbyes had arrived, and even with all her emotional preparations—imagining the moment, reciting the words, promising herself she'd walk away strong—she still wasn't ready. Not by a long shot.
A painful thickness in her throat choked her. She never cried—ever—at least not since her parents' execution, but his words struck her, and she couldn't prevent the tears from building up in her own eyes. She wanted to thank him for all he'd done for her. Even when she was a lousy kid, he always believed in her, never allowing her to pity herself or settle for less. Instead, his unrelenting motivation pushed her to work harder, be a better person, and never give up. He fueled her potential, and even though their blood was not the same, she considered Marcus a friend, a protector, a mentor, and, most of all, a father.
She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn't going to the Ground for a tainted legacy or redemption. She was doing it for him—because it was what he expected of her, even if he couldn't admit it. Marcus was a great and brave man, and she'd do anything to live up to him and everything he saw her to be. Words could not express her gratitude.
Straightening her back and setting her jaw, she gave a curt nod and shook his hand, silently swearing to him that she would do whatever it'd take to save the Ark.
"I won't let you down," she managed to say with a clear voice.
"I know you won't." He smiled. The thumb of his free hand wiped a fallen tear from Eve's cheek, and after a moment, he pulled her into an embrace.
Eve held him close, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's all right," he whispered back, giving her a gentle pat. "I'm the one that's sorry. I should have been there for you, and I wasn't." He pulled away with his hands on her shoulders. "I hope you can forgive me."
She shook her head, sniffling. "There's nothing to forgive."
A warm smile stretched across Marcus's face, and she knew he was taking in every detail of her face, etching it to memory. Then, after a long time, he took a step to the side. "The prisoners are being boarded right now." He gestured to the door. "You should go."
Eve stared at the opening that led out into the grey, metal hallway and took a deep breath. Then, turning to him, she smiled. "Goodbye, Marcus. May we meet again."
He smiled back. "Safe passage on your travels."
With one last look at him, she turned away and left.