( SIXTEEN : SOMETHING HAPPENED )

BY THE TIME ELISSA ducked into her tent and collapsed onto the parachute covered pile of leaves she called a bed, she was beyond exhausted. Unable to bring herself to kick off her boots, she decided she may as well just sleep with them on—would only have to put them on tomorrow anyways.

When Elissa heard a distant snore from Harper's tent next to her, she felt an amused smile tug at her lips, before she leaned up to look over at the corner that Charlotte normally took residence. But as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized that she was the only person in the tent. Charlotte was gone.

Leaning up onto her elbows, Elissa stared into the darkness in disbelief and wanted to groan out in frustration. Why couldn't that girl just stay where she's supposed to?

For a second, Elissa debated getting up and looking for her, but quickly pushed the thought to the side, too exhausted to move.

She probably decided to sleep in Harper's tent for the night—must be who's snoring.

Elissa noted that Charlotte had been acting strange from the moment they arrived back in camp.

It's been a stressful day. She probably just needs some space to sort everything out. When she's ready to talk, she'll come let me know, Elissa told herself.

With that final thought of reassurance, Elissa nodded to herself and dropped back onto the ground.

Maybe Wells is right—maybe tomorrow will be better.

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Elissa woke with a start, unsure if the chills that ran through her body or the terrified scream that pierced the air had snapped her awake. Whatever the cause, her heart pounded between her ears. Things were clearly not going to get better anytime soon.

Hairs stood on end and she was up on her feet before she was fully awake, handle on her blade clutched tightly in her hand. The blade was raised defensively in front of her as her mind still sluggishly tried to process what might be going on outside the tent. The scream didn't sound too far.

Eyes briefly darted around the tent and Charlotte was still nowhere in sight.

Damnit.

A surge of adrenaline followed quickly by a spike of worry and frustration wiped any tiredness that might have remained in her body. She was wide awake, and her mind raced.

Are we under attack? Who screamed?

In the wake of the ear-piercing scream, the camps early morning silence exploded into chaos. People began to scramble and rush out of their tents; questions were fired across the camp as they tried to figure out what happened. Elissa realized she could hear Bellamy distantly shouting, demanding to know what happened.

Elissa strainer her ears to catch any snippets of conversation that would give her some clue as to what had happened while they were all sleeping. It was immediately apparent that everyone was just as clueless as she was. The one thing she did know, was that if they were under attack, the tent couldn't offer her much protection.

With the blade still clutched in hand, Elissa headed out of the tent and into the early morning light. The sun had barely begun to peek over the distant mountains, its rays casting the tips of the trees in a bright orange glow, as if they were catching fire.

A small crowd had already formed in the middle of the dropsite and they were chatting amongst themselves. Some were merely glancing around while others wielded weapons and were on the hunt for any signs of danger. They all looked confused, wary and frightened.

Elissa desperately searched around for familiar faces, heart in her throat and chest filled with panic. She couldn't see any of her friends. Over the chatter, she could hear something faint.

Someone was crying.

Feeling her throat go dry, Elissa turned and began to make her way toward the sound, wondering who it was and what had happened. Her stomach twisted and turned, despite her attempts at calming it. Where was Wells when she needed him?

It doesn't make any sense that the Grounders would attack us, she reasoned. The screamed hadn't sounded like someone was being attacked. Deep down, she knew that. The sound was shrill and abrupt—a scream of shock.

A couple of dozing delinquents stumbled out of their tents and got in her path as she tried to move in the direction the scream had come from. Following her lead, several of the others moved in behind her. Safer in a group than alone.

She could see that a handful of people had gathered at the ridge, only a few glanced back at her and the others as they approached before returning their gaze to the ground before them.

"I-I found him...he was just like this! He-He was already d-dead," the girl sobbed, voice quivering.

What?

Elissa's stomach sunk at the words. She pushed past several people and wove her way through the crowd. What is she talking about? Who's dead?

She took a shaky breath with every step. She had to know. She needed to know.

Clenched her fists to stop them from the sudden shaking that overcame them and before she knew it, she was standing at the front of the group.

You know...you already know...

Her eyes landed on Fox, who was on her knees and the heels of her palms pressed tightly against her eyes as her body shook with sobs. Bellamy knelt next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Elissa could see his lips moving but she couldn't bring herself to hear the words. She could only hear her own breathing and her heart beating in her head.

You were here last night...you were sitting right there.

But she couldn't see. She couldn't make herself look.

She knew what she would see if she did.

Bellamy seemed to sense her gaze, because he turned his head her way and his eyes met her own. He looked almost startled to see her there and he lurched to his feet. He moved toward her in long strides, arm stretched out between them as if to ward her away.

He stood in front of her—standing almost too close—her gaze became trapped in his own and she couldn't make herself break it.

"Elissa," Bellamy began, voice strained. He opened and closed his mouth a few more times, unsure of what to say. He placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to turn her away. "You shouldn't be here."

With those words, she knew. Oh, she knew.

Her face scrunched up and her vision blurred.

Elissa closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying to push back the flood of emotions that threatened to drown her. You don't know anything yet. It might not be what you think.

With a clenched jaw, she steeled herself and peered up to meet Bellamy's eyes once more.

"I need—" she choked out, trying to find her voice as her throat closed with the on set of tears that pinched the back of her eyes. "I need to see," she told him.

He hesitated and looked as if he was trying to find something to say.

"Please."

He searched her face, realizing that he couldn't stop her from going forward. That he shouldn't. Giving her shoulders a squeeze, he nodded before stepping off to her side. Although he didn't go far, she could feel his warmth at her shoulder.

Elissa's feet hesitated—wouldn't obey her—she couldn't make herself step forward.

You need to know.

She took a small step. Then another. Her gaze slid along the forest floor, past Fox—who sat only a few paces away with red, watery eyes—trailing over the litter and moss that covered the ground.

Dragging her gaze up, it landed on the one thing she never wanted to see.

No...no...NO!

"Wells..." she managed to choke out, her throat tightened around her words; all the energy gone from her body. Reaching out blindly, she caught herself on a nearby post that held up the wall, fingers dug painfully into the harsh wood. But she couldn't pull her eyes away from the sight.

Wells lied on his side, halfway down the embankment they'd sat on the previous night. One hand stretched out, as if reached for something just out of his grasp. His other hand clasped around his throat, the blood that had slipped between his fingers a rusty red.

The blood had stained his white shirt and the ground beneath him a deep dark brown. The realization has struck her between the ribs.

He'd been dead for a while.

The way his eyes stared out blankly, wide and full of terror, his lips and teeth stained where he'd probably called out for help. He'd seen his killer.

She let out a strangled moan as she slid down the post and the first sob escaped her lips. She pressed her mouth into the sleeve of her jacket with her eyes clenched shut as she fought off the next one that threatened to escape. She failed to stop it.

A warm hand settled between her shoulders and traced slow, soothing circles.

She didn't need to look to know who it was.

Elissa didn't know how long she sat there, braced against the post before she slowly regained her breath. The sobs faded into small hiccups of air and sniffles. Eyes still closed, she kept her face pressed into her arm, not wanting to look up and face the reality that this wasn't some sort of nightmare.

"I'm sorry," Bellamy said softly to her once she'd calmed down a little. He was crouched next to her, his hand still on her back. "I-I know you two were close."

Bellamy and Wells might not have gotten along, but Elissa could still hear the sincerity in his voice.

With a shaky breath, she straightened up and rubbed away the tears with the back of her hand. She turned to face Bellamy and lean against the post—away from Wells' body.

"Who did this? I mean, he—" her voice cracked, "he was fine last night."

"Grounders," he said coolly, confidence in his voice. "They must have snuck into camp last night."

"But..." her voice waivered.

But I was right there. He was fine when I left. He was fine. I should've stayed.

Anger suddenly flared through her. She was angry—with Wells staying outside of the partial walls during watch. At the Grounders, how dare they sneak into camp and kill Wells, who was one of the only people who treated her like a friend.

Most of all, she was angry at herself.

If she'd stayed last night, if she'd ignored her selfish need to get some sleep—when Wells had probably been just as tired—if she'd been here to watch his back...he might still be alive.

The word 'if' means nothing here. There is nothing you can do to change this.

It's too late.

"Hey," Bellamy's stern voice cut through her thoughts. He leaned down to make sure he had her eyes. "It's not your fault."

Her gaze fell away. "But I was right there." She gestured out toward Wells' body, although she still couldn't bring herself to look in that direction. "If I had stayed, he'd still be alive."

"If you had stayed, you would probably be dead too," he replied bluntly, and she flinched back at the harshness of his words. Seeing her reaction, he sighed and tried to be gentler. "Look, I know..." But as he spoke, another voice drifted over to them and Elissa felt ice run through her veins.

"What's going on?"

Oh, no! Clarke...

Elissa found her feet and stumbled toward the blonde before she could even register her actions. Bellamy lurched out of her way in surprise as she moved. She refused to let Clarke find out like that. Clarke didn't need to see what Elissa saw.

Clarke paused at the sight of her and gave her a confused look. Her blue eyes searched Elissa's face and noted her blotchy face and red eyes. It was obvious that she had been crying.

"Elissa?" Clarke said hesitantly. "What's going on?"

Elissa took a shaky breath as she came to stop in front of her. She opened her mouth to tell Clarke that her childhood best friend—the person who she'd just reconciled with the day before—lied dead not even ten feet away from her. That someone—Grounders—had snuck up and stabbed him in the neck. That he had bled out alone in the darkness. That she should have been there to help him. But she couldn't find the words.

Wells is dead.

She couldn't bring herself to say those three words.

Staring at Clarke, she could hear Bellamy in the background begin to order those that stood around to get on with their days, to keep building the wall. That there was nothing to see. For a second, a spark of gratitude went through her for his consideration. Clarke didn't need an audience when she found out.

As the crowd began to disperse and Harper stepped up to pull Fox away, Elissa cleared her throat to start again. "Clarke, something happened."

The blonde narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in confusion.

Something happened? Are you serious? She scoffed at herself. Something happened is what you say when you're explaining anything else. Not how you begin a conversation where you tell someone that their best friend is dead.

But they were the only words she had, so they tumbled out of her mouth before she could take them back. "Something happened to Wells."

Clarke continued to stare at Elissa as if she'd grown two heads. "What? What are you talking about? Is he okay?"

Elissa shook her head slowly, tears pinched at the back of her eyes again. With quivering lips, she replied. "No, Clarke. Wells isn't okay."

"Elissa. What-What do you mean? Where is he? Whe—" She cut off, her breath hitched, and her eyes landed on something just over Elissa's shoulder.

"No..." Clarke gasped and brought her hands up to cover her mouth as she stumbled to the side. Elissa lurched forward in a panic, fearing that the blonde might collapse and grasped at her shoulders to keep her upright. But Clarke's eyes were glued on Wells' motionless form. "No, no, nononono," she whimpered, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears.

Elissa felt more tears pool in her eyes and pulled Clarke into a hug, she collapsed against Elissa as if all the muscles in her body had given way. Her knees buckled and they were both dropping slowly to the forest floor.

Clarke choked on a sob, gripping Elissa's jacket with white knuckles and buried her face in Elissa's shoulder.

Elissa could only hold her tightly before movement caught her eyes and she glanced up to see Bellamy. His eyes darted away almost immediately, but she hadn't missed the sorrowful shine in his eyes. Elissa sighed and pressed a wet cheek onto the top of Clarke's head, listening to her muffled cries.

She wanted nothing more than to join Clarke—stop fighting the dryness in her throat and the tears threatening to spill in her eyes—but she knew she couldn't. Clarke deserved to cry more than anyone. Her best friend was gone.

As she tried to console Clarke's sobbing, she realized the sorrow didn't seem to be restricted to just them. Several others were crying as well, soft sniffles and hitched breaths were heard. There was something different about this death and she wasn't sure why. He wasn't exactly the most well-liked person there. Despite that, the mood around them seemed to change. Sadness. Anger. Shock.

They were united by a common feeling: grief.

Maybe Wells was right. Maybe things would get better.

But if the cost of unity was the life of her friends, Elissa wasn't sure if she was willing to pay.

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