forty one . . . predictable heart
( may 6, 2281 — sanctum )

HOW LONG HAD she been sitting on the foot of this bed? A better question would be how she got into the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom, but Cullen's grasp on time seemed more important instantaneously. It could have been hours, or even days, and Cullen wasn't sure she would have noticed, because all she thought about was the house her subconscious had guided her into.

Thoughts about the house seemed better than thoughts about her life and the complete one-eighty it had taken in the past forty-eight hours. She had never been in a house, only read about the experiences that came from having a home, but the white wooden frame was everything she had imagined Earth to look like before the bombs — Russell built it for Simone to remind her of Earth, but it wasn't the planet Cullen remembered. It wasn't underground bunkers and woods stretched across miles, or ancient buildings and scraps of metal from space; it wasn't a home, either.

Had Cullen ever really had a home? Mount Weather maybe, surrounded by her family but then separated from them in a twisted fate that led to only her surviving. Arkadia possibly, as it had been the first place Cullen was welcomed into — it was a place where people wanted her to be. The Second Dawn Bunker definitely, because it was where she found her second family.

Maybe home wasn't a place, but rather the people you see yourself loving forever. Monty, Harper, and Jordan. Kane and Abby. Miller and Jackson. Raven, Murphy, and Emori. Clarke and Madi. Octavia. Sloan. Gracie. Bellamy. Maybe searching for a home was never supposed to be their end goal, because wherever they all were was where they actually belonged. The shell of a house would not satisfy them — them who had been through wars, the ending of worlds, and complete annihilation — but the finding of their true home might.

Cullen's home was coming crashing down. Her heart ached more every day for Monty, more recently Kane, and painstakingly prematurely Sloan. How disfigured could her image of home become before it completely crumbled, leaving Cullen stranded facing her deadly fear of being alone forever? Her family picture was getting smaller as the days crept by, and Cullen could feel her soul wasting away, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

She would have gone through with being Simone's Host; in her heart, she knew it'd be the right thing to do by their people. Cullen was in no means searching for death or parading in front of its door, but she would accept it wholeheartedly if it strengthened their image of home — if it rectified her family, she'd do almost anything. Could it count as suicide, or was it sacrifice?

In that moment, she missed Jasper most of all. Their relationship was formed by so many overlapping layers that Cullen couldn't remember who they were at the beginning: a boy being given a chance at love and a girl just wanting to help people survive. Cullen and Jasper were similar in more areas than either of them had cared to admit, but Cullen never thought self sabotage would be one of them — of course, Jasper knew the answer to his problems was suicide. He knew he was destined to die, and Cullen didn't. Surely her skipping out on death defying situations on multiple occasions was proof of that in itself, but she found herself wishing to talk to him. To grasp an answer as to why she was so ready to give herself up when she had so much to lose in her death.

They were morbid thoughts for a day that was being lightly celebrated by their people, and they deserved their happiness. The Primes were gone, all except Russell, and they were safe; Abby and Sloan had died, but in their deaths would come their people surviving another day. It had to be worth it, Cullen thought to herself. Nobody died for nothing.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, staring out the window onto the trees that formed the dangerous woods of Alpha, when Murphy entered in without knocking — in his defense, he did click it shut behind himself. And what struck Cullen as peculiar wasn't that it was Murphy of all people that came to check on her, but that he willingly sat down beside her, close enough for them to be classed as friends, and joined her in looking out the window at nothing. He didn't say anything or make his presence obligingly obvious, he just sat.

After what seemed like hours, Murphy tilted his head towards Cullen but didn't move his eyes away from the window, asking, "You've been staring out the window for two hours?"

"I guess." Her throat was hoarse from the crying she hadn't realized she had done. On her lap, her fingers twisted as her anticipation came back to life, her eyes casting a side glance across to Murphy — he was the last person she expected to walk through the door. She thought it would have been Raven or Miller, maybe Clarke, but not Murphy. "Who sent you in here?"

"Nobody. They wanted to leave you until you were ready, but I think you've had enough time." His words were light, making buoyant of the situation. "Everyone's moving into the house."

"I heard." She murmured, eyes flashing to the ceiling before she sighed.

He paused again, watching out the window for another few seconds before finally turning his attention towards her, subconsciously tugging Cullen's to him, too. "Look, I'm not good at this whole friend thing."

"Then why are you here?" She didn't mean to be rude, but she felt better knowing people had talked to Murphy in much worse ways — never her, though. She had made a promise to always like him, and she was sure she always would, even now with a hint of sympathy in his bottomless blue irises.

"Bellamy and his 'mini-me' are gone, and everyone's worried about you." Said Murphy, withholding his cringe at the care behind his tone. "I think they're too scared to check, too, hence why I'm here."

Cullen couldn't help but laugh. "So you're on suicide watch?"

"No one thinks you're gonna kill yourself." He quickly recovered. "You're not, are you?"

Harming herself had been the furthest thing from Cullen's mind, because how would she benefit from it? No, she would never. Sloan had given his soul for hers, so damaging herself in any way would be like laughing in the face of his sacrifice. Plus, there was the matter of her daughter, their people, and the man she loved — it would be too selfish of her to kill herself.

"No need to worry, Murphy. I'm perfectly sane." Cullen wished for there to still be humor behind her words, but there wasn't. Only the stinging pain of loss and death lingered.

He looked doubtful of her halfhearted assurance, simply nodding once before his lips curved up into their infamous, lopsided grin. "Well, if you're perfectly sane, why are you still here?" Cullen's eyebrows twitched together, pinching at her already pounding headache. "You should be halfway into the woods by now."

"Chasing the anomaly?"

"Technicalities I didn't remembered." Murphy shrugged one shoulder. "You should be with your family."

Cullen smiled weakly. "You don't think you're my family, Murphy?"

It pained her to know the word was so foreign to him. Murphy and his life before Polis was something Cullen had no clue in, so she was left to presume any biological family he had left died before they met — his chosen family weren't exactly easy on him, either. But Cullen did imagine him in the picture, tucked between Raven and Emori, at home with the people who loved him in ways they didn't know how to express. He was her family, biological or not.

"I'm gonna go," she continued, seeing he was too ambushed by her claim to say anything back, "I just wanted to sit for a while."

"And do what? Contemplate the laws of the planet?" He scoffed lightly to himself, reaching to nudge an elbow into hers. "Go to your kid, Cullen. She needs you as much as you need her."

Cullen knew this, of course. For five years Sloan had been the Father figure in Gracie's life, and despite his faults, she loved him endlessly — how could she not? He taught her the colors of the rainbow and told her toned down versions of his days as a warrior for Azgeda. He made her laugh, and more times than not, he was the reason Cullen smiled. That was imprinted in Gracie's brain, so what might she be feeling now that he's truly dead? His soul and body no longer existed in their world, and while she had family around her, she needed her Mother.

"Not good at the whole friend thing, huh?" Cullen hummed feebly, her smile reaching almost genuinity when Murphy's cheeks tinted the lightest shade of pink. "Like it or not, Murphy, we are friends. You just gave me advice."

"I'm pushing you towards something you were already gonna do. Don't make a big deal out of it." His brashness returned, and Cullen's chest warmed as the man she knew so well returned to his eyes — she appreciated the comfort and sincerity, but she liked Murphy for who he was. "I can't fill Monty's shoes."

It was Cullen's turn to shrug. "Nobody asked you to."

He scoffed again. "Yeah, like you can be trusted by yourself right now."

"So you are on suicide watch?" It was consoling, knowing the people she loved cared about her as much as she cared about them, but Cullen never needed anybody's concern — she'd make it through this. If she didn't, she'd like to know what it was that would finally kill her. "Maybe I should go. At least Bellamy doesn't outwardly say when he's concerned I'm gonna die."

"'Cause he's the one committing the kill." Murphy joked, looking wary for only a split second before a laugh spat from Cullen's lips, reassuring him that the woman he liked was still there — she was buried beneath a hundred layers of loss and death, but she was still there.

"Yeah, probably." She humored, unable to bite back the grin that spread across her face. It was nice to sit with someone for a few moments and take a step back from everything else that suffocated them. "Thanks, Murphy."

"For what?"

"For coming to check on me." Cullen nudged her shoulder against his, both of them turning back to the window as a comfortable silence settled over them. "You think you're not good at being a friend but you are. Thank you for being mine."

And please don't die on me, she wanted to add. Cullen knew she couldn't take another death, whether that be Murphy or anybody else — they had lost too many people, but how was she going to prevent what the universe had in store? Maybe Maya had to die in Mount Weather for Cullen's life to begin. Maybe Jasper had to die at Arkadia to make her realize how wrong she was living her second chance at life. And maybe Monty had to die all those years ago to finally deliver Cullen here, to a friend that understood her many layers of complication and self deprivation.

"Well, someone's gotta do it, right?" He grinned, peeking a look at her dishevelled features, knowing it could mean only one thing. "I know that look," he began, drawing her eyes back to his, "and you didn't kill him."

"Yes, I did." She smiled sadly. "The Prime in his body told me Sloan gave up his life to save mine. They were gonna find out about my blood and they weren't gonna stop, so he gave himself over in my place."

The sympathy returned to Murphy's eyes, and Cullen detested it. She didn't want sympathy or people's condolences — she wanted Sloan back. She wanted Russell to pay for what he did, but even then it wouldn't be enough. How do you avenge someone's death when they didn't deserve to die? Cullen felt helpless because she was helpless; there was nothing else she could do.

"It wasn't direct, but I did kill him."

"He decided that for himself. Look," Murphy exhaled heavily through his nostrils, shifting on the bed to seize Cullen's full attention, "I only knew the guy for days, technically, and even I know he wouldn't want you to think like that."

"But—"

"No buts. Go to your kid, Cullen. Go to Bellamy."

It was the most important thing, wasn't it? Being around family — the ones that are stuck with you because of one tiny ray of sunshine. Cullen wasn't a Blake, but the Blake's were as close to a biological family as she'd ever get again, and she'd take it. What was holding her there, then? The people flooding every room of the house, or maybe the memory of Sloan. His face was already evaporating from her mind. What did his voice used to sound like?

Cullen didn't give herself a chance to remember; Murphy was right. She needed Octavia, Gracie, and Bellamy. God, if Cullen thought there'd ever be a day where she'd ever need Bellamy Blake again, she didn't think it'd occur like this — the healing of a lost lover would come from that of a past one. How extraordinarily ironic, Cullen thought. But it was Bellamy as a whole that she needed. She felt like she wouldn't breathe until she saw him again.

She stood from the bed and smiled down to Murphy. "Can I trust you to keep things in running order while I'm gone?"

"What? You think our people need a moral aligner?" He mused sarcastically as he stood alongside her, shaking his head briefly. "I've got this place covered. Daniel Prime, remember?"

"John Murphy." She corrected, wrapping her arms around his shoulders before he was given a chance to pull away. His body grew stiff, something Cullen opted to ignore as she squeezed him tighter and whispered another, "Thank you," before pulling away, smiling, and walking from the room.

Fortunately, she wasn't stopped by anyone on her way out, shrugging on a thicker jacket she found by the door as she skirted out of sight of their people. She'd be back in a few days, wouldn't she? Back to the house that was now theirs with her family with her this time, ready to start anew with consequences in the wind.

What Cullen hoped for and what would happen were two completely different things.

💛

IT HAD JUST passed noon when Cullen found herself within the familiar woods, just a few minutes walk from where Gabriel's tent was located — though she had only been there once, Cullen could remember the way from when Jade took her and Murphy there. Though, this time, Cullen felt far less vulnerable now she had a sword strapped to her back and a gun just by her hip. She had no intentions of using the weapons, as the population of the Children of Gabriel now resided in Sanctum alongside the still-believers, but something pricked up the hairs on the back of Cullen's neck.

She thought aimlessly on her walk, sending thoughts to people she knew would never hear her nor give her an answer, but liking just talking to them nonetheless. Cullen was sure she'd lose her mind before she died, possibly a better way to go, she had humored herself. There was once a time she fled to escape the ghosts of her past — ghosts she now talked to as though they walked alongside her in those moments.

Several steps away from the small hill she'd have to cross before reaching Gabriel's tent, a green glow lit up to the canopies of nearby trees, making their already hunter shades appear luminous. Cullen stopped dead in her tracks, hands limp by her sides as she watched the trees slowly fade back to their natural colors; she squeezed her eyelids shut, convinced she had imagined the glow before a shrill scream sounded around her.

"Octavia!"

Her feet were moving before the commands even came to her brain, Cullen relievingly not tripping over the uneven ground as her body hurdled instinctively towards Bellamy's voice. Another call of his sister's name only amped up her speed, something that was disregarded when Cullen slammed full force into nothing.

It was a blow to the stomach, an act that launched the gun from her hip several meters from her grasp, before her body made contact with the ground. The wind surged effortlessly from her lungs as Cullen choked out at the unexpected attack, one hand reaching for her sword, the other pushing her from the ground just as a boot collided with her jaw.

She grunted, unleashing her sword and slashing it out at arms length as she stood to her feet, swinging around to see nothing but trees surrounding her. Panting, she searched every inch of greenery in sight before Bellamy's voice was heard again, Cullen leaving her insanity behind to continue towards his voice.

He appeared as she billowed up the hill, turning in circles looking helplessly at the sky.

"Bell—!" Her scream was cut short, something colliding callously with the side of her head and knocking her out cold.

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a/n . . . welp (: any predications on what you think is gonna happen with cullen's story in season 7?

(SPOILERS) — i will be keeping bellamy alive as i respect his character too much to do him dirty like jr*th did. i love bellamy blake with the entirety of my heart, and without him i would not have my amazing characters and the little family i created. this does, however, mean i will be altering the storyline at the end of season 7, but i hope you all enjoy!