Wells didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes, but he was glad she knew better than to start babbling about how Sasha was in a better place. He’d had enough of that when his mother died. But at least then there’d been a part of him that had managed to believe it. He’d imagined his mom on Earth, her spirit returning to humanity’s real home instead of being sentenced to spend eternity among the cold, unfeeling stars. But this was different. Sasha had already been where she belonged. Now she was nowhere, exiled from the world she’d loved far, far too soon.
“I’m so sorry, Wells,” Clarke whispered. “Sasha was incredible. She was so smart, and strong… and noble. Just like you. You made an inspiring team.”
“Noble?” The word tasted bitter in Wells’s mouth. “Clarke, I’m a murderer.”
“A murderer? Wells, no. What happened to Sasha wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
“It was absolutely my fault. One hundred percent.” Wells rose from the bed and began pacing the room like a Confined prisoner counting down the hours to his execution.
“What are you talking about?” Clarke watched him, her eyes full of confusion and concern.
“I’m the reason all of this is happening. I’m the selfish bastard who leaves a trail of destruction behind him wherever he goes. Everyone up there”—he jabbed a finger skyward—“would be alive today if it weren’t for me.”
Clarke rose from the bed and took a few hesitant steps toward him. “Wells, you’re exhausted. I think you should lie down for a few minutes. You’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”
She was right. He was exhausted, but it wasn’t entirely from the strain of watching the girl he loved die in front of him. The effort of holding in his terrible secret was what had truly drained every last ounce of strength. He dropped back onto the bed. Clarke followed, and wrapped her arm around him.
He had nothing left to lose. He already despised himself. What did it matter if he made everyone else despise him as well? “There’s something I haven’t told you, Clarke.”
Her whole body tensed, but she remained silent and waited for him to continue.
“I broke the airlock on Phoenix.”
“What?” He wouldn’t look at her, but he could hear the confusion and disbelief in her voice.
“It was already faulty, but I made it worse. So that the air would leak faster. So that you would get sent to Earth before your eighteenth birthday. They were going to kill you, Clarke. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not after what I’d already done to you. I was the reason you were Confined in the first place.”
Clarke still said nothing, so Wells went on, a strange, numbing combination of relief and horror spreading through his limbs as he voiced the words he’d feared ever saying out loud.
“I’m the reason they had to abandon the ship so fast, and the reason so many people got stuck up there, suffocating. I did that to them.”
Clarke still hadn’t spoken, so finally, Wells forced himself to look at her, bracing for the look of horror and loathing. But instead, she just looked sad and scared, her wide eyes making her appear younger, almost vulnerable.
“You did that… for me?”
Wells nodded slowly. “I had to. I overheard my father and Rhodes talking, so I knew the plan. They were either going to kill you or send you to Earth, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it be option A.”
To his surprise, when she spoke, there was no rancor in her voice. Just sadness. “I would’ve never wanted you to do that. I would’ve rather died than endanger so many lives.”
“I know.” He placed his head in his hands, his cheeks burning with shame. “It was insane and selfish. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died, but I can’t live with myself now, anyway.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Of course, now I realize that the right thing to do would’ve been just to kill myself. If I’d thrown myself out of that airlock, it would’ve saved everyone a lot of pain and suffering.”
“Wells, don’t talk like that.” Clarke had scooted back in order to face him, and was looking at him with dismay. “Yes, you made a mistake… a big one. But that doesn’t negate all the incredible things you’ve done. Think of all the people you saved. If you hadn’t messed with the airlock, every single one of us would’ve been executed instead of being sent to Earth. Not just me. Molly, Octavia, Eric. Even more, you’re the reason we all survived once we got here.”
“Hardly. You’re the one who saved everyone’s lives. I just chopped some firewood.”
“You turned a wild, dangerous planet into our home. You made us see our potential, what we could achieve if we worked together. You inspired us, Wells. You bring out the best in everyone.”
That’s what he’d loved about Sasha, the way she’d made him want to be a better person, a better leader. He’d failed her—there was nothing Clarke could do to convince him otherwise—but that didn’t mean he should stop trying. He owed her more than that.
“I… I just don’t know what to do now,” he said quietly.
“You could start by forgiving yourself. Just a little bit.”
Wells had no idea how that even worked. He had spent his entire life in the right place at the right time, doing as he was told, doing as he was expected to do. He had always taken the high road, made the right choice, regardless of his own feelings. But at the most crucial moment of all, he’d faltered, and thousands of people had suffered. It was unforgivable.