It wasn't the same, and you doubted that it ever would be. For almost a week you had forced yourself to stay awake, because you didn't want to wake up one day and realise that you were still stuck in that place, that being rescued didn't happen, that you weren't back home and safe, but rather in the small cage that you began to rot in for almost two and a half months. A shallow and shaky breath escaped your dry and split lips as you laid on your back, above the blankets, on the bed. It was cold, the rain fell heavily with large hailstones, and the wind blew against the walls of your home loudly, howling and whistling in a high pitch. There was an uncomfortable stinging sensation from your eyes as you willed them to stay open. There was no doubt that they were bloodshot and bruised from the trauma that you were forced through.

     But dark circles were the least of your problems.

     The others in your clan grew worried as you shut yourself away from them, avoiding any confrontation. They knew that you stopped eating, fearing that they had done something to your food like the other people in that place did. Their haunting gas masks and heavy breathing was all that you could see and hear every time you stared down at a plate of food. The effects of sleep deprivation, and the hallucinations that followed, caused you to see the food deflate in the wooden bowl and ooze out a light grey colour that filled up the bowl and overflowed until you dropped it and rubbed at your eyes, only to see that, when you reopened your eyes, the freshly cooked meat, recently picked berries, and small potatoes, from the small garden, was knocked over on the ground, and covered in mud.

     They tried to help, they tried to get you to talk about it, but they only made matters worse. Every time you thought about it, it only resurfaced the old memories that you wanted to forget and keep hidden. They had to give up trying at some point, they knew it was only putting more stress on you, but they didn't want to let go of it completely because they knew that would be worse than making you talk about it straight away. It wasn't something that you could ignore forever, they wanted you to realise that, but for now, it wasn't time to open up and hold hands with everyone to tell them what happened.

     They had to give you space until you were ready.

     When you were rescued, you hadn't been rescued alone. One of the members of Skaikru, a group that you hadn't known about as you had been held prisoner during their crash landing, had been in a cage next to you. Bellamy tried, to the best of his abilities, to fill you in on what happened, but of course, there were some facts missing and he didn't know a lot about your clan. You weren't surprised, you knew that Ingranrona Kru didn't get involved in a lot of Coalition activities, preferring to stay to themselves. So, when you had been rescued, your people were quick to take you back to your village and keep you far away from any more possible dangers.

     But they might have been quick to judge.

     It was unavoidable that you would have grown close to Bellamy. He was the only person you had been around after being alone for over a month before he was brought in. You didn't even see the people who kept you prisoner for more than five minutes a day. So, when you were back home, you struggled to feel safe anywhere. Bellamy had often tried to get the people who held you both prisoners to leave you alone, risking his own life for yours, despite not knowing you. He kept telling you that everything was going to be okay, that you were going to be rescued, that you weren't going to die in a cage surrounded by dead rats and small bones. He even managed to get his arm through the gaps of the cages to get to you, holding your hand in his tightly, rubbing this thumb across your skin as he reminded you that you were going to get out of there, you both were.

     It wasn't until a month and a half later before his words became true.

     A soft knocking at your door caused you to blink, escaping your memories for even just a short moment. With furrowed eyebrows, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of your bed before you lit a few small candles, heading towards your door. When you pulled the door open slightly, keeping your body close to it so it couldn't be opened more than a few inches, you saw Bellamy standing outside in the rain. The water caused his curly hair to fall straight, his clothes hung heavily and his teeth chattered while his body shivered. He opened his mouth, having to talk loudly, over the rain and the wind.

     "I know it's late, and I know it's been over a week, but..."

     He couldn't finish his sentence, a shiver ran through his body uncomfortably and he tried wiping the water from his face, causing his hair to move back, showing the cut on his forehead. You moved away from the door and pulled it open, grabbing onto the soaked sleeve of his jacket, pulling him inside before you closed the door quickly. As you turned back around to face him, the dim light from the candles highlighted his own bruises, his own dark circles and the cuts along his skin. Bellamy tightened his fists together, not wanting to lose feeling in his fingers as he continued to talk.

     "I can't sleep, I can't... I—"

     "Take it off," you interrupted, watching as his lips began to turn blue, his skin growing pale.

     "What?"

     You pointed to his clothes. "They're making you worse."

     "I—"

     "I will light a fire, just—" You motioned to his clothes again, glancing down at the floor as a small puddle of water collected beneath him. Without hearing what he had to say, you walked over to the small fireplace and placed some dry logs inside, lighting a small match before you flicked it inside, poking at the logs with a long metal poker, keeping an eye on it as the flames began to engulf the wood. The sound of heavy, wet clothing dropping to the ground echoed from the front door. You turned around as saw Bellamy only shrugged off his jacket and shoes. "What's taking you so long?"

     "Oh, you meant—" Bellamy pulled at his shirt and you nodded.

     "It's soaked, take it off."

     Bellamy nodded and pulled the back of his shirt of his head, he was grasping at the material, mumbling to himself as he struggled due to the lack of feeling in his fingers. Quickly, you grabbed his jacket from the floor, hanging it up on the wall for the water to drip off. He threw his shirt on the small clothes string next to it before he fiddled with his belt, shaking and occasionally losing some balance as he stood. You moved his shoes and placed them near the fire, stuffing strips of paper inside to absorb the water. Bellamy cursed to himself quietly, moving his hands away from his belt to breathe warm air on them.

     "Do... Do you need help?" He turned to you, noticing how you didn't keep eye contact with him for more than a second. Bellamy nodded his head, hating the feeling of the water dripping from his hair to his back. With a nervous nod back, you walked over and quickly undid his belt, allowing him to pull it through the belt loops before he placed it over the small wooden chair by the wall. After you turned back to the fire, Bellamy quickly got out of his trousers and shivered, hanging them up before he noticed you hesitantly taking your own clothes off.

     "What are you doing?"

     "It will help warm you up faster."

     "Uh..."

     "Not like that, just... sit."

     Bellamy sat down in front of the fire, noticing that you placed a thick woollen blanket down just in front of the fire. He picked it up and unfolded it, wrapping it around his shoulders before he quickly placed his hands in front of the fire, rubbing them together while you got out of your clothes and picked up a small towel to dry his hair. His skin was ice cold to the touch as you sat next to him, drying his hair as he tried getting more feeling to his fingers. He shivered again, closing his eyes tightly, clenching his fists together as he breathed out deeply, gritting his teeth together.

     "You'll warm up soon."

     He didn't respond to you straight away, only turning his head to glance at you with red cheeks and tired eyes. "I know. I know I shouldn't have come here so late, or at all, but—"

     "It's fine, Bellamy. Just focus on getting warm, okay?"

     "Okay." He nodded, turning back to look at the fire, staring intently as you dried the rest of his hair as best as you could before you threw the small towel over to the wooden chair. Bellamy was quick to wrap one side of the blanket around your shoulders as well. He tried keeping his eyes on the fire, but every so often he found himself glancing back over to you, looking at the bruises on your legs that travelled up to your stomach. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

     "For what?" You asked, keeping your arms around him to help warm him up faster.

     "I should have tried harder to stop that from happening to you."

     "You didn't know they were going to do that."

     "I should have. I've seen it happen before, at Mount Weather, I lived through it. I even inflicted it on Lincoln and one of my own people."

     "That's not who you really are though, is it?" Bellamy knew it was rhetorical. His cheeks only grew warmer, which was either from the fire or because of how close you were to him. "Do your people know you're here? Or will they wake up and think you were taken again?"

     "I left a note."

     "How long will it take before they find it."

     "I left a big note," he corrected himself. "I wrote it on the wall of my room."

     With a nod, you rested your head on his shoulder, watching as he kept his hands out to the fire to warm them up and bring feeling back to them. Bellamy still shook lightly, but it wasn't as much as before, and he stopped chattering his teeth, there was, even more, colour to his lips as he ran his tongue along his bottom one before his jaw clenched as his eyes glanced to you before flickering back to the fire.

     "I, uh..." Bellamy cleared his throat. "I don't know about you, but, um, I haven't been sleeping. Like at all," he admitted, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. "I also don't trust people like I used to, and even the people that I did trust, I'm scared of letting them get close to me. I don't know what happened to us there, or what they did to us, but I hate it."

     "I can't sleep either. I don't want to wake up and find out that I'm still alone, that I'm still a prisoner."

     "I just want things to go back to how they used to be."

     You moved your head away from him, feeling the cold air at your cheek again, sending a shiver up your spine. "I don't think it ever will go back to how it used to be. I want it to as well, but realistically?" Bellamy nodded. "I think I'm just too broken to be fixed."

     Bellamy frowned. "I know what you mean."

     "I'm just so tired," you whispered quietly.

     "I will watch over you if you want?"

     "I can't ask you to do that, you even said it yourself, you haven't been sleeping either."

     "I don't mind, I just want to be here. I want to know that you're okay." You smiled faintly, breathing deeply as you looked at him. He turned his body to face you instead of the fire, his hands took hold of yours, they were a lot warmer now. "I'll stay, okay? If you'll have me, then I'll stay. I just need to be with someone that I know I can trust. I just need it."

     Bellamy continued to look at you, waiting for an answer. If his people did worry, then they would know where he was, he said it himself, he left them a big note. It was probably something that you both needed. After all, he has been the first person that you've spoken to for longer than a minute since you got back. After a few more seconds of silence, you gave him the answer he was hoping for, a softly spoken whisper of the word, "Stay."