Homecoming

CHAPTER 21: Wells

It was entirely his fault. All of it.

Wells slammed his fist into the rock wall, hard. Blood dripped down his knuckles, but he didn’t feel any physical pain. All he felt was the weight of his own stupid, selfish mistakes piling higher and higher, threatening to topple down and crush him at any moment.

He never thought he could feel worse than he did after Clarke was arrested or after his mother died. But this was the lowest Wells had ever been. He spun around in the tiny room, looking for something else to kick or hit. There was just his narrow bed. The bed Sasha had slept in just hours ago. And now she was dead.

Wells fell onto the mattress and lay on his back. The ache in his chest was so strong and solid, he felt like he could pick it up and hold it in his hands. He covered his face with his arms. He just wanted to block out the light, turn off his brain, and push away everyone and everything. He wanted blankness. He wanted to drift in the deep and endless silence of space. If he were back on the ship, he wouldn’t hesitate before wrenching open the airlock and hurtling himself into the void.

He would end it if he could. He would take himself out of the equation if he thought it would help everyone else. But he was too ashamed to leave everything behind, not when he’d made such a mess of things. But how could he possibly put things right? There was no smoothing things over between the Earthborns and Rhodes. There was no bringing Sasha back. There was no fixing Max’s broken heart.

If only he had stopped himself before he set all of this in motion. If only he hadn’t made the leak on the airlock worse, then the dropships wouldn’t have had to leave so suddenly. They would have had more time to prepare the ships, and maybe they could have sent more people down. Instead, everyone who didn’t fight his or her way onboard was up there dying as the oxygen dwindled.

If only he hadn’t staged a fake attack to break Bellamy out of prison, maybe Rhodes and the others wouldn’t have been so afraid of the aggressive faction of Earthborns. Maybe they wouldn’t have been so quick to the violence that killed Sasha. And if he hadn’t gotten involved with Sasha in the first place, maybe she could have gone on living a long, peaceful life without him.

Wells thought he would suffocate under the pressure of all these thoughts. His breath came in shallow gulps, and he felt clammy with panic. There was nowhere to go, nothing he could do, nothing worth saying. He was trapped.

Just as he thought he might run for the door and escape Mount Weather, he heard a familiar voice saying his name. He opened his eyes and saw Clarke outlined by the light from the hallway.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Wells jerked upright, then scooted back and leaned against the wall, burying his head in his hands. Clarke lowered herself onto the bed next to him. They sat like that in silence for a few minutes.

“Wells, I wish there was something I could say,” Clarke finally said.

“There’s nothing,” he said flatly.

She placed her hand on his arm. Wells flinched, and Clarke made like she was about to pull away but she increased the pressure with a squeeze. “I know. I’ve lost a lot of people too. I know the words don’t make any difference.”

Wells didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes, but he was glad she knew better than to start babbling about how Sasha was in a better place. He’d had enough of that when his mother died. But at least then there’d been a part of him that had managed to believe it. He’d imagined his mom on Earth, her spirit returning to humanity’s real home instead of being sentenced to spend eternity among the cold, unfeeling stars. But this was different. Sasha had already been where she belonged. Now she was nowhere, exiled from the world she’d loved far, far too soon.

“I’m so sorry, Wells,” Clarke whispered. “Sasha was incredible. She was so smart, and strong… and noble. Just like you. You made an inspiring team.”

“Noble?” The word tasted bitter in Wells’s mouth. “Clarke, I’m a murderer.”

“A murderer? Wells, no. What happened to Sasha wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

“It was absolutely my fault. One hundred percent.” Wells rose from the bed and began pacing the room like a Confined prisoner counting down the hours to his execution.

“What are you talking about?” Clarke watched him, her eyes full of confusion and concern.

“I’m the reason all of this is happening. I’m the selfish bastard who leaves a trail of destruction behind him wherever he goes. Everyone up there”—he jabbed a finger skyward—“would be alive today if it weren’t for me.”

Clarke rose from the bed and took a few hesitant steps toward him. “Wells, you’re exhausted. I think you should lie down for a few minutes. You’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”

She was right. He was exhausted, but it wasn’t entirely from the strain of watching the girl he loved die in front of him. The effort of holding in his terrible secret was what had truly drained every last ounce of strength. He dropped back onto the bed. Clarke followed, and wrapped her arm around him.

He had nothing left to lose. He already despised himself. What did it matter if he made everyone else despise him as well? “There’s something I haven’t told you, Clarke.”

Her whole body tensed, but she remained silent and waited for him to continue.

“I broke the airlock on Phoenix.”

“What?” He wouldn’t look at her, but he could hear the confusion and disbelief in her voice.

“It was already faulty, but I made it worse. So that the air would leak faster. So that you would get sent to Earth before your eighteenth birthday. They were going to kill you, Clarke. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not after what I’d already done to you. I was the reason you were Confined in the first place.”

Clarke still said nothing, so Wells went on, a strange, numbing combination of relief and horror spreading through his limbs as he voiced the words he’d feared ever saying out loud.

“I’m the reason they had to abandon the ship so fast, and the reason so many people got stuck up there, suffocating. I did that to them.”

Clarke still hadn’t spoken, so finally, Wells forced himself to look at her, bracing for the look of horror and loathing. But instead, she just looked sad and scared, her wide eyes making her appear younger, almost vulnerable.

“You did that… for me?”

Wells nodded slowly. “I had to. I overheard my father and Rhodes talking, so I knew the plan. They were either going to kill you or send you to Earth, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it be option A.”

To his surprise, when she spoke, there was no rancor in her voice. Just sadness. “I would’ve never wanted you to do that. I would’ve rather died than endanger so many lives.”

“I know.” He placed his head in his hands, his cheeks burning with shame. “It was insane and selfish. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died, but I can’t live with myself now, anyway.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Of course, now I realize that the right thing to do would’ve been just to kill myself. If I’d thrown myself out of that airlock, it would’ve saved everyone a lot of pain and suffering.”

“Wells, don’t talk like that.” Clarke had scooted back in order to face him, and was looking at him with dismay. “Yes, you made a mistake… a big one. But that doesn’t negate all the incredible things you’ve done. Think of all the people you saved. If you hadn’t messed with the airlock, every single one of us would’ve been executed instead of being sent to Earth. Not just me. Molly, Octavia, Eric. Even more, you’re the reason we all survived once we got here.”

“Hardly. You’re the one who saved everyone’s lives. I just chopped some firewood.”

“You turned a wild, dangerous planet into our home. You made us see our potential, what we could achieve if we worked together. You inspired us, Wells. You bring out the best in everyone.”

That’s what he’d loved about Sasha, the way she’d made him want to be a better person, a better leader. He’d failed her—there was nothing Clarke could do to convince him otherwise—but that didn’t mean he should stop trying. He owed her more than that.

“I… I just don’t know what to do now,” he said quietly.

“You could start by forgiving yourself. Just a little bit.”

Wells had no idea how that even worked. He had spent his entire life in the right place at the right time, doing as he was told, doing as he was expected to do. He had always taken the high road, made the right choice, regardless of his own feelings. But at the most crucial moment of all, he’d faltered, and thousands of people had suffered. It was unforgivable.

Clarke knew him so well. It was as if he had spoken all his thoughts out loud. “I know better than anyone that you don’t like to show your emotions, Wells. But sometimes you have to. You need to take all these feelings and use them. Be human. It will make you an even better leader.”

Wells took Clarke’s hand and gripped it tightly. Before he could reply, a commotion rang out through the corridor. They both hopped to their feet and hurried out of the room, following a steady stream of people down the hall.

Max stood at the front of the large, cavernous space that’d become their center of operations. His face looked ravaged, and his shoulders stooped on his gaunt frame. The fire was gone from his eyes.

“We have visitors,” he announced, beckoning toward someone out of sight. As he spoke, hundreds of heads shot around to see who had entered the bunker. “Don’t worry—none of them are armed. We checked.” Wells and Clarke let out a loud sigh of relief as they recognized the dozen or so members of the hundred filing inside. Eric and Felix led the pack.

“Did Rhodes send you?” Max asked. The entire room held its breath, waiting for their answer.

“No,” Eric said, shaking his head, his voice as steady and calm as ever. “We came to join you. We want nothing to do with Rhodes or the other Colonists anymore.”

Max eyed them shrewdly, his years of experience had clearly sharpened his ability to assess people’s character. “And why is that?”

Eric met his eyes without wavering. “They’ve completely taken over. It’s not the home we built anymore. There’s no discussion, no cooperation. Rhodes tells everyone what to do, and the guards make sure they do it. It’s just like being back on the ship. The prison cabin they built for Bellamy is already full, and the guards beat one woman up so badly I’m not sure she’s going to be able to walk again.” He paused and turned to face the Earthborns, who were staring at him uneasily, then scanned the crowd until he spotted Wells. “Everything was so much better when you were in charge, Wells. You stood for something, something worth fighting for.”

The grief that had lodged in Wells’s chest loosened its grip, and a faint glimmer of hope flared up in him.

Max cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him.

“You’re welcome to stay with us, then. We’ll help you get settled shortly. But first, do you have any insight into what Rhodes might be planning?”

“We do,” Felix said, stepping forward. “That’s why we came when we did. I volunteered to work with the guards, so I heard their discussions. They don’t believe there are two separate groups of Earthborns. They think you’re dangerous, and we couldn’t get them to believe that you aren’t. They think you’re all working together.”

“They’re planning an attack,” Eric interjected. “A big one. And they have more weapons than we realized at first. We discovered that they’ve been hoarding guns and ammo in a secret cache in the woods.”

The room filled with whispers and anxious murmurs, but Max hardly flinched. His old bearing had returned, and some of the light had returned to his eyes. “Are you willing to fight with us?” he asked the newcomers.

Eric, Felix, and the others nodded vigorously. Gratitude and pride surged in Wells’s chest.

“Very well, then. I think we may have an opportunity now that we have your support.” He shook his head grimly. “We might’ve started this to help your friends, but it’s clear this conflict was inevitable. It was just a matter of time before Rhodes drew us into a fight. Better we deal with it quickly, before”—he took a deep breath—“before even more people get hurt.”

Bellamy ran over to Eric. “What about Octavia? Did she come with you? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, but she didn’t come with us. It was a tough decision, but she felt she had to stay with the kids, especially now that things have gotten more and more dangerous.” Eric’s face softened, and he placed a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Wells said. “Once we kick Rhodes’s ass, we’ll be able to bring them all here. Octavia, the kids, and anyone else who wants to join.”

Bellamy nodded, the wistfulness in his eyes hardening into resolve. Wells could tell he was gearing up for a fight. They all were.

Max was already deep in conversation with his deputies, and it was clear they had already started discussing battle plans. He looked over at Wells, who averted his gaze, still unwilling to meet Max’s eyes. Certainly, the last thing Max needed was a reminder of the boy who got his daughter killed. But then, to his surprise, Max called his name. “Come over here, Wells. We need you.”