From The Ashes | The 100 S5 [Bellarke]

|22| Home Sweet Home

6 years and 12 days after Praimfaya

Monty was in heaven.

After six years of nothing but algae, powdered protein, and recycled water, he was finally eating real food again. The small village of Nightblood survivors had thrown together a sort of celebratory feast in honor of their arrival, and Clarke's recovery of her almost-lethal injury.

There was a pig which had been roasted over the fire, the pink meat falling off the bones in tender, savory strips. Potatoes and greens were in wooden and metal bowls, steam rising from them in delicious, mouthwatering tendrils. There was this soft, creamy cheese which Monty had eaten that morning, spread thickly across wheaten bread, and more bread lumped beside it.

"Hallelujah, we are saved," Murphy said reverently, coming to stand next to Monty by the food-covered table in one side of the village courtyard. Firelight flickered over the dishes, casting everything in a warm, homey glow. "Why isn't everyone eating yet?"

"We're waiting for Clarke," Monty replied quietly, glancing again at the doorway where their long-lost friend was supposed to appear any moment. "Their healer came out a few minutes ago and said she was going to join us."

"Well, she'd better hurry up," Murphy remarked, stuffing a chunk of orange potato into his mouth, speaking around it as he continued. "It's pure torture having to stand here with all this in front of me and not eat it."

"Patience, John," Emori said, coming up and slipping an arm around her partner's waist. Her hair was loose around her face, and the sharp edges of her facial tattoo were soft in the fading light of the evening skies. "The food isn't going anywhere."

"Aww, you know me," Murphy drawled, slinging an arm around Emori's shoulders in casual, unconscious affection. "Patience isn't really one of my virtues."

"I know," Emori replied with a teasing smirk. "And that's why I love you."

"Guys," Monty said, coughing lightly to remind them of his presence.

"You can always leave," Murphy told him dryly, his famous smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth.

There was a matching expression on Emori's features, which made it easy to believe that the two were meant for each other. Even six years in space hadn't torn the two apart, only driven them closer, and Monty felt a quiet, familiar ache in his chest. He'd had something like that once, and while Echo had drifted into his bed now and again on the Ring, it hadn't been anything binding.

That was a good thing, right? Love was a weakness on the ground, and made life harder to survive in. Monty had learned that the hard way.

He was saved the trouble of an argument with Murphy and Emori by the appearance of Clarke, her features drawn slightly in pain, but she was still alive. She'd made it, just like them, fate giving all of them a much-deserved break.

As expected, Bellamy was at her side, and Monty smiled when he saw the missing happiness in his friend's eyes. They'd all mourned Clarke, but her supposed death had hit Bellamy the hardest.

"Long time no see, Clarke," Murphy said when the two of them walked up.

Monty didn't hide his eye roll. Classic Murphy – always substituting sarcasm and dry, morbid humor for the softer feelings. The only one he was maybe a halfway decent person around was Emori, but then she was the exception to a lot when it came to John Murphy.

Clarke laughed, wincing a little when she did so, but her smile matched the bright joy in her eyes as she greeted the people she hadn't seen for six years.