Homecoming (The 100 3)

Wells sighed as Sasha ran her fingers through his hair, and for a moment, he forgot about everything except the warmth of her skin as he let his head sink against her. He forgot about the terrible week they’d just had, the violence they had witnessed. He forgot about finding the body of his friend Priya. He forgot that his father had been shot in front of his eyes during a scuffle with Bellamy, who’d been desperate to get onto the dropship with his sister. He forgot about the fire that had destroyed their original camp and killed Clarke’s friend, Thalia—a tragedy that had severed the last remaining bonds of his and Clarke’s romance.

Maybe he and Sasha could spend the whole night out in the clearing. It was the only way they’d get any privacy. He smiled at the idea and felt himself sinking deeper toward sleep.

“What the hell?” Sasha’s hand stopped suddenly, and there was a note of anxiety in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Wells asked as his eyes snapped open. “Is everything okay?”

He sat up and took a quick survey of the clearing. Most of the hundred were still huddled in clumps around the fire, speaking in low murmurs that blended into a soothing hum. But then his gaze fell on Clarke, and although she was curled up next to Bellamy, he could tell she was focused on something else entirely. Although his intense, all-consuming feelings for her had evolved into something akin to real friendship, he could still read her like a tablet. He knew her every expression: the way she pursed her lips in concentration when studying a medical procedure, or how her eyes practically sparkled when talking about one of her weird interests, like biological classification or theoretical physics. Right now, her brows were knitted together in concern as she threw her head back, assessing and calculating something in the sky. Bellamy’s head was tilted up too, his expression stony. He turned and whispered something in Clarke’s ear, an intimate gesture that would’ve once made Wells’s stomach roil, but now only filled him with apprehension.

Wells looked up but didn’t see anything unusual. Just stars. Sasha was still staring at the sky. “What is it?” Wells asked, placing his hand on her back.

“There.” Sasha’s voice tightened as she pointed straight up into the night, high above the infirmary cabin and the trees that ringed the clearing. She knew this sky as well as he knew the stars up close. An Earthborn, she’d been looking up her whole life, while he’d been looking down. Wells followed her finger and saw it: a swiftly moving bright light, arcing toward Earth. Toward them. Just behind it was another, then two more. Together they looked like a star shower, raining down on the peaceful gathering around the fire.

Wells inhaled sharply as his entire body went rigid.

“The dropships,” he said quietly. “They’re coming down. All of them.” He felt Sasha’s body tense next to his. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as they watched the descending ships in silence for a moment, their breath falling into the same rhythm.

“Do you… do you think your father’s on one of them?” Sasha asked, clearly trying to sound more hopeful than she felt. While the Earthborns had come to terms with sharing the planet with a hundred juvenile delinquents in exile, Wells sensed that facing the entire population of the Colony was an entirely different matter.

Wells fell silent as hope and dread battled for supremacy in his already overtaxed brain. There was a chance that his father’s injury hadn’t been as serious as it’d appeared, that he’d made a full recovery and was making his way down to Earth. Then again, there was also a chance that the Chancellor was still clinging to life in the medical center—or worse, already floating still and silent among the stars. What would he do if his father didn’t disembark from one of those dropships? How could Wells go on knowing that he’d never get to win the Chancellor’s forgiveness for the terrible crimes Wells committed back on the Colony?

Wells tore his eyes away and twisted around to look across the fire. Clarke had turned to look at him, and they locked eyes, which filled Wells with a flood of sudden gratitude. They didn’t have to exchange a single word. She understood his mixture of relief and dread. She knew how much he stood to gain or lose when those doors opened.

“He’s going to be so proud of you,” Sasha said, squeezing Wells’s hand.

Despite his anxiety, Wells felt his face soften into a smile. Sasha understood too. Even though she’d never met Wells’s father, even though she’d never witnessed their complicated relationship, she also knew what it was like to grow up with a parent responsible for the well-being of an entire community. Or in Wells’s case, a parent responsible for all known survivors of the human race. Sasha’s father was the leader of the Earthborns, just as Wells’s father was leader of the Colony. She knew what it meant to bear the weight of that duty. Sasha understood that being a leader was as much a sacrifice as it was an honor.

Wells looked around the fire at the gaunt, exhausted faces of the nearly one hundred teenagers who’d survived the traumatic first few weeks on Earth. Normally, the sight filled him with various degrees of worry as he fretted about food stores and other rapidly dwindling supplies, but this time, all he felt was relief. Relief and pride. They’d done it. Despite the odds, they’d survived, and now help was on its way. Even if his father wasn’t on one of those dropships, there would be huge amounts of rations, tools, medicine—everything they needed to make it through the upcoming winter and beyond.