FROZEN STARS
forty eight

IF THERE WAS ONE THING THE MOON HAD taught Marley Munroe, it was that it was okay to go through phases. Feelings change, people change, and that was okay. That was normal. It was as natural as the turn of the Earth, as the stars in the sky and the wind that touches the tips of the trees. The moon had taught her that change was okay.

And Marley had started to believe that people going through phases was okay, too.

That the fractured part within her fragile mind being patched up, piece by piece, bit by bit, as slow as the rise and fall of the moon, was something to be welcome and insisted upon. Not feared or shied away from. That each piece she reattached was something to be welcome, even if the world seemed to be falling apart around her. Sadness was to be expected - loss was to be expected - but healing happens under the darkness of night, the glare of the sunshine and the weeping of the rain. She'd had to remind herself of that some nights, when her head felt like it was spinning. Sometimes, Marley supposed, she had to be selfish and think of herself first.

The world kept turning no matter what darkness befell it and Marley figured that she - minuscule and inconsequential in a universe that was never-ending - had no choice but to embrace that change. She let it engulf her, calm seas luring her in and, for the first time in as long as she could remember, there was something akin to happiness inside Marley Munroe's ever-aching chest.

The early-morning clatter of workers in the hallway outside stole her awake. Quiet voices - hushed, though futilely so, cutting through the metallic silence - and the rhythmic thunk of work boots, always too thick and cumbersome to ever have a hope of keeping your steps quiet. She groaned as she shifted against the thin mattress, springs digging into her spine uncomfortably, limbs protesting every movement. Her body swam in a pool of fatigue. It practically drowned her but, for one, the exhaustion pulling at her was welcomed.

Bellamy's arms were draped around her. One propped beneath her head, underneath the pillow she rested upon, the other around her waist, a large, gun-calloused hand splayed across her ribcage. There was a gentleness to it; those hands, made for war and the sturdy clutch of a gun, so intoxicating and tender against her. He held her, delicate, as if she would shatter in his grip. But she didn't mind. Fragility was more than welcome in a brutal universe that tried to beat her down whenever it was given the chance.

The smile that came was content. She took a moment to bask in it, in the unfamiliar tenderness of his embrace and the comfort in how he pressed her back against his chest. He was curled around her body, a cocoon of warmth and safety in the dead of night. She could grow used to the feeling of him holding her like that. Marley laid there in the silence, for a moment, settling back into his warmth. Basking in a moment that would be over sooner than she would have liked.

She wanted to stay that way forever. But life always got in the way.

Marley felt Bellamy shift behind her. He exhaled through his nose, long and drawn out, almost a sigh. Hands shifted and calloused fingers caressed the bare skin of her stomach, there they'd snaked beneath her sweatshirt, rubbing circles against her body, slow and methodic, pressing into the tender skin as he stirred.

His lips dropped a kiss against the back of her neck. "Good morning," he mumbled. She could feel the gentle curve of his smile as his nose brushed against her hair. It gathered at the nape of her neck in a pool of brown waves. Marley exhaled gently through her nose and laced her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, comfortingly, welcomingly.

"Morning," she murmured, burying her head deeper into the pillow. She could have fallen asleep again, like this. The feather-light touches of his fingers against her stomach made her eyelids flutter, sleep threatening to pull her under again. She wouldn't have minded if the dreams stole her away again. As long as she could stay right there, in his arms. Finally.

"How long have you been awake?" He questioned, moving her messy hair to the side and pressing another kiss to the now-exposed skin of her neck. She sighed contentedly and let his embrace swallow her up, sinking back further into his arms and the thin mattress beneath them.

"Couple of minutes." Her voice was quiet and heavy, low and murmured and muffled against the pillow. "Not long."

It was unusual. Waking up to that kind of tenderness. She was glad it had finally happened. It had been too long.

Bellamy untangled himself from around Marley. She pouted at the loss of warmth, of the comforting and unfamiliar safety of his limbs tucked around her, as he rolled onto his back. groaned and made to stand. She reached out for him, half-heartedly swiping at his wrist to try and pull him back beneath the sheets. "Just a couple more minutes?" She whined, sleepily.

A wide grin split across his face. "Not a morning person?" He chuckled as he leant back over the bed and dropped a kiss to Marley's cheekbone, where her face poked out over the comforter.

"Sometimes."

She heard him laugh again as he pulled back, shuffling around the room, presumably getting ready for their journey with the Grounders. To lay Finn to rest, supposedly. She wanted to be there for Elijah, if not to say goodbye to Finn herself.

"C'mon, Marls," he urged.

Marley hummed and rolled over onto her side, facing him. "Marls?" She raised an eyebrow, amused, and pushed herself up onto her elbow. Bellamy tugged his pants on and fished around for his discarded t-shirt, the one he'd dumped over a chair in the corner of the room.

The nickname was something different, something new, something she'd only heard him call her one or twice before. Nicknames usually terrified her - Tate used them as a negative, a way of taunting her - but Bellamy seemed to mean it as an endearment, born of fond feelings.

"Too much?" He questioned.

Marley shook her head and pushed herself up to sit. She propped herself up against the pillows. "Just enough." Her eyes followed his nimble fingers as he laced up his boots. "I should get back before Elijah wakes up." She tucked her feet up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

She knew she had to go. But she wanted Bellamy to at least give her an excuse to stay.

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"His best friend just died." She sighed, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was freezing cold against her bare feet. She cursed herself for not wearing socks when she'd wandered into his room that early morning. "I should make sure he's okay when he wakes up."

She managed to find the strength within her to drag herself out of the warmth of the bed. She groaned, her back aching as she stood. She regretted not wearing something more to cover up; there are more and more people creeping into the hallway to start their workdays and she had to walk through them to make her way back to her room.

"Well-" Bellamy reached for his jacket. It was his guard jacket, from the Ark. The one he'd used to sneak his way onto the dropship. She hadn't even realised he still had it; he didn't wear it anymore. He'd swapped in favour of a different one, one less Arkadia Guard, and more civilian. He tucked it around her shoulders as she shivered. "I'll see you soon," He insisted, "You've got a half-hour," his deep voice reminded her.

Marley nodded and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, stealing one kiss, and then another, and then another as she backed out of the room. It was weird to think that she could just kiss him, now. That she could reach up, take his face between her hands and kiss him, whenever she wanted. There was a reservation within her; it seemed inappropriate if she were to reach for him in selfish moments when she just needed someone to hold her.

"I'll see you soon."

She could feel him watching her as she left. His eyes practically burned into her back as she walked away, but in the most wonderful of ways. She turned to smile at him as she ducked out of his room, silently thanking him for the night before. For everything. For just being there for her.

‣ ‣ ‣

ELIJAH WAS PROPPED up against his pillows when Marley got back. There was a notebook laid against his knees, that were bent up to his chest, and he was scribbling furiously. She'd only seen the notebook a handful of times; it appeared first when they arrived at Camp Jaha, his mother rushing to him and handing him the delicately-bound leather notebook a couple of moment's later. It looks ancient, far older than Elijah and Marley, or even their parents. She'd always wondered what was inside the notebook - idle worries or his darkest secrets, or simply mindless doodles to take his mind off the hell of existence - but she'd never been one to pry, so she hadn't even attempted to ask about its content.

"Late night?" He questioned when he heard the door slide open and closed behind Marley. He didn't look up from the notebook and continued writing instead, though she could see the smirk that caught at his lips and the way his eyebrows lifted in intrigue.

"What- um, no- I just went to the restroom," Marley lied. It was clearly such, and she didn't expect Elijah to even believe her, but it was better than never hearing the end of it if he found out she'd spent the night with Bellamy.

Elijah quirked an eyebrow and glanced up at her. His smirk had turned into a grin, now. To anyone else, it might have seemed bright. But, in her eyes, she can tell that that usual light had faded, and the grin was merely more than a facade to disguise his sadness. "For an hour?"

"Long line," Marley insisted. She forced out a small chuckle, hoping he'd eventually leave it alone. That he'd realise she wasn't going to spill her secrets and tell him where she'd actually been. Though, she was pretty sure he already knew. Just like he knew she was lying about the bathroom. "You know how it's like on a morning. Sooner they fix that the better." She sighed, pointing at the door to their out-of-service bathroom. When the Ark had fallen, the plumbing - and electricity and heat and just about every system that once worked in space - had faltered. Engineering had fixed the block by the mess hall but half of camp were left without their own and were forced to line up, sometimes for hours, just to use the bathroom.

Elijah hummed. "I can ask Raven."

"Preferential treatment?"

Elijah wiggled his eyebrows. "Perks of having a friend in engineering."

"How are you this morning?" Marley questioned as she dug into her drawers for something to wear. She knew she had to rush to get ready, otherwise, they'd be running behind. She's not entirely sure that Elijah will go willingly, given how he was the night before.

Elijah stretched and shrugged. "I'm fine, I guess." His solemn expression told another story. He dropped his notebook onto the shelf by his bedside and kicked his legs out in front of him. "That's the thing now, isn't it? I can't just break down and be upset. It's the way it is now. We lose people, people die. We have to live with that"

Marley sighed, crouching on the edge of Elijah's bed. "You're allowed to grieve however you need to. No one's going to stop you. God knows I took enough time to myself when we first got down here."

Seeing him like this, reclined on his bed, never really looking at her, only through her. That haunted look in his eyes lingered; she'd seen it in herself when she looked in the mirror before. It was a terrible burden to bear and even more terrible to shake. She felt guilty for the happiness that swelled within her; the most distant of stars, sparkling, growing and shifting, a supernova waiting to explode from her chest. Marley worried her lower lip as Elijah tapped a pen against his bedside.

"It's too soon, he- I know he fucked up, but he didn't deserve to die." Elijah leant forward. Now he was looking at Marley; his gaze was intense, terrified, grieving. She saw herself in his eyes, the broken girl, the one she was when she fell to this wretched earth. She could feel his pain like it was her own. Perhaps it still was. "I'm not ready to say goodbye," he whispered as he dropped her gaze.

Marley sighed and reached for Elijah's hand. He squeezed his palm tightly around her fingers. "I'm not sure anyone is." She told him. "Everyone grieves at their own pace. You don't have to be ready to say goodbye, yet."

There was a silence. Not awkward, but measured. He took it all in, shook his head and then smiled. She could see his lips lifting even with his head tilted down at his feet and their hands that still gripped each other tightly. "Look at you giving me advice."

"How the tables have turned. I expect we'll go back to normal, soon." She grinned. "Now, come on. The Grounders won't forgive us if we're late."

Marley almost thought she could hear Elijah snarl under his breath; she didn't press it further, though. Especially when he stood and stretched, long arms reaching high above his head. When she'd first met him, only mere months ago - months that seemed like a thousand little lifetimes - he'd been tall, but decidedly lanky. Years on the Ark tended to do that to some people. There wasn't much to do. Nowhere much to walk and nothing to see, and the tiny gym they did have was virtually off-limits to anyone but the family of the Council. But, since their arrival on Earth, he was a lot wider, for want of a better word.

She wasn't sure when he had the time to work out - if he did at all, or whether the jobs he did around camp helped - but she couldn't imagine it came easy. Especially given his leg and how it hadn't entirely healed as well as it could, given their limited access to supplies. Elijah tended to battle through with a poorly-concealed grimace and the bearing of his teeth. But, despite the way he looked on the outside, she knew it was no comparison to how small he felt on the inside.

He watched her as she gathered fresh clothes. She could feel his eyes burning into her. "Marley," He called out her name. It echoed through the small room; the metal always made it worse, made it all so much louder. She turned to meet him with a gentle smile. "Will you be there? When they take Finn?" He questioned. His voice was small and it wavered a little. And, even despite his smiles moments earlier, his eyes were full of unrelenting sadness. The light behind them was gone. It had stolen away the breath from her lungs to see him like that; it was wrong, it wasn't Elijah.

"Of course I will. Always," she insisted and the weight on his shoulders seemed a little lighter, then.

a/n: me coming back to frozen stars after far too long and remembering marley and bellamy are canon now:

LETS GOOOOOO