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Post by Bellamy Blake on Aug 25, 2016 17:47:30 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US They were setting up camp for the night. It had been a long little while that they had been traveling and tonight, they needed to take a break from driving, and walking -- as they had to park the rover at times when the area was more heavily wooded. They needed a proper night's rest and Bellamy was ensure that those in Alpha faction received it. They had set up a small fire, Bellamy offering to take the first watch. Sleep was difficult for him to find, so at least he could find a productive way to spend his restless hours.
Just because they weren't at war with the grounders, didn't mean that there weren't other threats lurking about. Wildlife, still pissed of grounders, and a whole array of things that dwelled in the woods. They had managed to catch some food, and even had a good meal. With the others resting, Bellamy made his way a small distance from their camp. Their rover had been parked elsewhere as they couldn't get it into the small clearing they found. He kept his group within sight, just in case.
Fortunately, no one had tried to kill anyone yet, and Bellamy hoped that remained. Looking off into the distance, deep in his own thoughts, a small rustle caused him to abruptly turn his head, seeing Jackson approach. "Everyone settled ok?" He asked, hoping all was well as he looked at his friend with soft concern. He knew that Jackson had been through a lot after the destruction of ALIE. Unfortunately, time had not permitted him to check in on his friend to see how he was coping. Perhaps now he would have that opportunity.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 25, 2016 18:34:37 GMT
Jackson couldn't sleep. It had been a long day, and Jackson had driven the rovers before, but never for such a long distance. He wasn't sure how simply driving had exhausted him, but it had. And yet, he was just staring at the top of his tent, wide awake. His muscles still burned from climbing that tower, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself running toward the throne with the intent to kill Clarke. Abby, even, if he had to. He saw Abby pointing a gun at his face. She should have killed him. Not just for coming after Clarke in the throne room, but for everything he did to her in Arkadia, too. He would have deserved it.
After a while, he sat up with a groan as his muscles protested. Bellamy was keeping watch. He hadn't talked to Bellamy in some time. In fact, he'd lost track of pretty much everything that was going on in camp after taking the chip, but someone had tried to beat the shit out of Bellamy at some point, judging by the cuts on his face, and Kane had tried to strangle him. The only way Jackson knew to get past his own guilt and grief was to help others. It was what he'd always done, and why he'd volunteered for this mission. It didn't change the fact that he'd done terrible things, but at least he could be useful.
He left his tent and went to find Bellamy, and when he found him, Bellamy asked about everyone else. Of course. "As far as I can tell," he replied. He gestured at Bellamy's face. "Is there anything you need me to look at?" he asked. The cuts on Bellamy's face didn't look infected, but at least one of them looked like it could have used stitches when it was fresh. Were there other, possibly worse, injuries under Bellamy's clothes?
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Aug 25, 2016 19:23:14 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy gave a slow couple of nods as Jackson assured that all was well. For now anyway. Yet, it was better than nothing. Better than what could happen. Jackson's next question caused Bellamy to clench his jaw. No one had asked about his wounds. And he was ashamed of them. Each one marking his failures; impossible to hide scars so that everyone would know his misdeeds. A mask of wounds to showcase what a monster he was. What a monster his sister perceived him as.
"No," he said in a quiet voice, low, barely audible though perhaps heard due to their close proximity. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of something at Jackson's concern. Even if it was coming from more of a doctor's standpoint than a friend. But then again . . . Bellamy saw him as one. A close friend. And such companionships were scarce these days. Particularly for him. Perhaps the luxury of friends was undeserved, but he was human after all.
"You?" He questioned, unsure what injuries Jackson had sustained; even less certain if they had been treated. "I always hear that doctors make the worst patients," he said in an attempt to tease, though his tone lacked the full joviality of playfulness. Still, it was a way to bring up his concern for Jackson. His worry for all his friend had been through, and how little of it Bellamy had witnessed. Which only left his further in the dark.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 26, 2016 7:08:57 GMT
Jackson could tell by Bellamy's reaction that whatever had happened to his face had been bad. Whatever it was, it was a sore subject. The way Bellamy's jaw clenched, the way his response was barely audible... Jackson just shook his head when Bellamy asked about him, unable to laugh at what might have been a teasing statement before everything had happened to them. "From my limited experience with doctors, that's true," he said. "No one can fix what's wrong with me. Not even me," he said, but there wasn't any emotion in his voice when he said it. "My muscles will stop burning on their own eventually." There was far more to it than his tired body, but he was sure Bellamy probably knew that.
He and Bellamy had avoided a romantic relationship over the time they'd know each other, but from the moment they'd met, they seemed to make sense. They meshed. They were intimate--something Jackson wasn't with most people. Accidental intimacy. Jackson wasn't entirely sure what to call their relationship--he supposed they must be friends, even if they mostly acted like occasional lovers who shared a deep intimacy in stolen moments--but they always seemed able to meet each other where they were and accept each other. It was unlike any other relationship Jackson had ever had. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jackson offered, going back to what happened to Bellamy's face... or really anything that had happened since he'd been chipped.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Aug 27, 2016 17:30:21 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy listened to Jackson explain that nothing could fix what was wrong with him; not even himself. Bellamy knew that feeling all too well. Though it hardly discouraged him from wanting to try to help. Jackson had been there for him so many times . . . Bellamy wanted to be there for him too. Yet, he knew that sometimes that with the severity of a situation . . . it felt practically impossible for anyone to fix you. To heal you. Or to even allow anyone to try.
"Is that why you took it?" There was no judgment in Bellamy's voice when he asked the question. The chip. In fact, Bellamy couldn't help but wonder what it was like. To be void of pain. To feel nothing but ease. To be released of all pain and sorrow for even just a few moments. Granted, the violence inflicted on others during this state was not exactly desired . . . but still. Realizing his prying question, he felt the need to correct himself.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, not wanting it to come off as intrusive or judgmental. Neither were his intention. "If you don't want to talk about it . . . we don't have to." He paused for a moment, looking at Jackson, not even sure what expression was in his own gaze. "But if you do, I'm here." To listen, even if Bellamy couldn't do much else. Perhaps no one wanted him to, considering the damage he had already done. The unforgivable damage. And in his own inquiry, conveniently and deliberately ignored Jackson's question of wanting to talk about his own troubles.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 27, 2016 21:14:40 GMT
Jackson pressed his lips together, frowning. Bellamy always did this. He refused to talk about himself. Ignored Jackson's attempts to get him to open up. This was exactly why, Jackson suddenly realized, that he questioned whether they were truly friends or if they'd only shared a few strangely intimate hookups. Could they really be friends if one of them refused to open up?
It wasn't that Jackson didn't want to tell Bellamy what had happened. He was ashamed, yes, and he felt terrible guilt. Talking might help, and for whatever reason, Jackson found opening up too Bellamy easier than others. But Jackson didn't think he deserved anyone's forgiveness, and he didn't want people to offer excuses for his behavior. He'd done what he'd done. Alie required free will. He would have killed Clarke. Abby too, had she chosen to fight him physically instead of firing her gun. Sometimes, Jackson dreamed that Abby tried to knock him out instead of shooting him, and he woke up sweating and terrified, still feeling his hands around her throat or the snapping of her neck. "I'm always the one talking when it comes to us, Bellamy," he pointed out, but he leaned against the rover near Bellamy anyway, looking at the other man.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Aug 28, 2016 2:22:21 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Jackson's statement was . . . fair. Understandable. Completely justified. Bellamy knew that he always encouraged others -- especially him -- to open up without offering the same in return. But there was a reason for that. A selfish one. He wasn't sure whether he could answer, and fell silent instead. He half expected Jackson to walk away, to give up on him. He wouldn't be the first and Bellamy certainly didn't deserve any less. But his friend remained. Looking at him. Perhaps awaiting an answer. So how could Bellamy deprive him of one? But . . . how could he give one at the same time? He wasn't certain how much silence had passed until he finally began to answer it.
"I'm . . . afraid," he admitted. Fear was not an easy admittance for him to make. He knew he had no right to admit it. It wasn't what the people needed from him. But in this moment, he wanted to be entirely truthful to Jackson. "That if I open up, if I tell you what I've done . . . show you the monster that I am . . . " He paused, unable to make eye contact with his friend in this moment. He clenched his jaw once more, fighting back the tears and pain and trying to remain composed.
No one needed him breaking down right now. Not when he was assigned to head this faction. "That you'll leave me too." Just like the others had. Just like those he had thought were family and friends, had given up on him completely. He was a selfish bastard for this, wanting to hold on to what relationships he could. But he was sincere in his words. He didn't need anyone to tell him he wasn't a monster, for everyone knew it. Everyone who had accepted Octavia's judgment. Bellamy had long since accepted it . . . only now, did he realize how strongly others perceived it too.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 28, 2016 3:36:07 GMT
The silence was deafening. Jackson looked at Bellamy for a good part of it, but then started feeling his heart sink and turned his gaze to the ground. Maybe he should have stayed in his tent. Maybe there was less to the chemistry they shared than Jackson thought... or worse, maybe it was only in Jackson's head. Jackson was considering walking away when Bellamy finally spoke. "I'm . . . afraid." Jackson sucked in a breath, having grown used to the silence. Those hadn't been words he was expecting.
He looked back up, noticing that Bellamy couldn't look at him as he continued to talk. He could tell Bellamy was struggling. He wanted to reach out to him, touch him, embrace him... but every time he'd done that before, the two of them stopped thinking with their brains and started to think with other parts of their anatomy.
Jackson was silent for several moments before he spoke. "You think I'm not afraid when I open up to you?" he asked softly. "And would it really matter if I left? If you're not able to trust me like a friend, then I'm not one, as far as I'm concerned. What benefit do I have to you otherwise, outside of the physical one?" He was asking because he genuinely wanted to know. Maybe it was a little harsh, and maybe before he'd just accepted Bellamy silence, but after everything they'd been through recently, Jackson didn't want to live that way anymore. Not with Bellamy, at least. He didn't form close bonds easily, and Bellamy had been the only one he'd tried to with in a long time. But if it was one sided, was it worth it?"Maybe I will walk away if you open up, I don't know. But I will definitely walk away if you don't try. I'll keep working with you on this mission, but I'm tired." His words were gentle, but full of emotions and almost pleading. He probably had no right to ask Bellamy for anything, let alone to ask Bellamy to finally start trusting him after he himself had been a monster, but damn it... this relationship had either run its course, or it was going to have to change. "If it helps," he added, "I have no room to judge anyone after what I've done in the last few weeks."
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Aug 29, 2016 22:28:02 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy silently listened to Jackson return the statement with a question. Fear. Fear of opening up. But there was a difference. There were still those who cared about Jackson. Still those who respected him. Who could safely and easily call him friend. Bellamy knew that he was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. His inaction just as likely to push people away as his action. He was aware that him not opening up . . . well, would result in what Jackson told him now. He didn't dispute it; he couldn't. But the people that he had opened up to; the people who had allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable with . . . were either dead, or hated him.
"It's not like that," he said in a low voice, wanting to somehow express that Jackson meant more to him than just a hook up. Than just the physical. Bellamy wasn't exactly in the habit of returning to the same people. Of allowing them to see him at his worst. Jackson had been one of the few who was the exception to that. But . . . the younger male knew his words were justified. Which only increased his self loathing and guilt for the treatment of the man. It was easier to hate Bellamy than to love him. Maybe it was just easier to let Jackson go. To give him more reason to hate him. No benefit of the doubt, no explanation of his side of things.
Clarke hadn't wanted to hear it. Octavia didn't want to hear it. Kane didn't want to hear it. With Pike dead, Bellamy was the most convenient scapegoat. The one deserving of the blame and hatred. Of death. This search for hope wasn't to save his own life; it was the only redemption he had left to offer. So perhaps this was for the best. He should just stand here silently, let Jackson see him for the cruel monster that he was. And yet . . . it felt impossible. Losing almost everyone, trying desperately to hold onto the few that he hadn't lost. "People close to me get hurt," he began, sniffing a little though no tears fell. He ran his tongue over his lips, moistening them as his throat suddenly felt achingly dry.
"The more I try, the harder I fail. And . . . I'm tired too. Of losing people. Of trying to fight when nothing good comes of it. Trying to protect others but being repsonsible for their deaths." He couldn't do it anymore. Yet he found himself in that position. He wasn't even sure he had a choice anymore. If he didn't live for the others, then he had no purpose to his life. "They've given up on me, Jackson." Words not said to evoke sympathy from his friend. But rather, to explain. He doubted the tension between he and his sister wasn't obvious. The tension with him and Clarke. The tension with him and Kane. Reltionships that meant the world to him, but nothing to them.
Not anymore. He wasn't sure he even wanted to be saved. If given the option . . . he wasn't sure if he would take it. But saying that now, would hardly be good morale for a leader to express to a member in the faction. "We've all done things, I know. But . . . " He swallowed, the threat of tears re-emerging. "I've lost them. And I have no one to blame but myself." The fact that he was now afraid of his sister. That a man he had seen as a father saw him as an enemy. And Clarke . . . well, he was only useful to her when it suited the needs of the others. Which, was fair he supposed. But he hadn't forgiven her. And couldn't. Just like the others couldn't forgive him.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 23:51:28 GMT
"It's not like that," Bellamy said, and Jackson held his tongue so that he didn't immediately respond asking was it was like, because that was how it felt to him. Instead, he let Bellamy keep going. There were several long heartbeats where Jackson thought that was all Bellamy would say, but Bellamy finally continued. Jackson hadn't missed the tension between Bellamy and his sister, or Bellamy and Kane. Without context, however, he had no idea what to make of it. Bellamy had lived for his sister for so long, and Kane had seemed genuinely remorseful in the throne room when the City of Light went dark and he'd realized he almost choked Bellamy to death.
"I... I don't understand," Jackson admitted, after it was clear Bellamy was finished talking. He hated to hear Bellamy talk about himself this way, but without any background, it was difficult to make sense of. "There are four people following you right now. The people in charge made you the leader of this group. If you're always failing and everything you do ends badly, why would they do that?" He took a step closer to Bellamy, his gaze compassionate. "I lost track of everything in the City of Light. What happened?"
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 6, 2016 23:09:34 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy listened at Jackson spoke of people following him. Of how he had been placed in another leadership role, questioning their reasons for it if what he said was true. Bellamy slightly shook his head, his gaze looking at nothing in particular though he kept his head forward. "It's convenient." That was all there was to it. Convenient, to put him in this role. Resourcefulness and trust were very different things. It was after all, all he was good for when it came to Clarke. When it came to the others. But acting on what he believed . . . well, clearly it hadn't worked out in his favor.
"I'm useful to them." He knew that there was no other better way to put it. He was able to meet each task, whether the others were in agreement or not. He could have taken out Pike earlier, but he had done it . . . only when he thought it could salvage his relationship with his sister. It hadn't. And he regretted going against his own people in such a way. Jackson asked what had happened, having lost track during his time being chipped. Where did Bellamy even begin? He wanted to spare his friend the details . . . but at the same time, he had asked. "Lincoln died," Bellamy said, his voice holding the weight of his words, his eyes moist with tears.
"I couldn't save him." He tried. But he hadn't been able to. Convenient to them; whether it was a scapegoat, or rightful blame thrust upon his feet. "And the way they looked at me after . . . " This time, a tear escaped him, rolling down his cheek as he thought back to their expressions. He deserved it. But it made it hurt no less. He hadn't been able to save Lincoln. Or Gena. Or Monroe. Or even Pike. People he'd been close to. People who died. A vicious pattern; a morbid cycle.
"I can't forgive myself. So I . . . " don't deserve to be saved. Words thought. But unspoken. As a leader, he could not speak such things. He was here to guide them, to find a way to save everyone. Even if he didn't want to save himself. "Can't expect them to forgive me either." And they wouldn't. Not after what they had said. He sniffed a little trying to regain his composure. Trying to return to being that stoic person that he had spent a lifetime forcing himself to be. But recently, it felt like an impossibility. "I don't deserve to be." Forgiven or saved.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 7, 2016 0:38:52 GMT
Lincoln died. Those words surprised Jackson, and his surprise made his stomach twist. That was huge. It was something Jackson should have heard about in camp, but... there was no memory of it. Jackson hadn't been close to Lincoln, but he respected the other man. He'd been a kind man, and helped out in medical. Jackson's chest ached to know he was gone, more for other people who'd been closer to him than for himself. Bellamy said that he couldn't save Lincoln, which seemed to imply he'd tried.
A tear rolled down Bellamy's cheek, but Jackson let Bellamy finish before he moved closer to Bellamy and gently brushed the wetness away with the back on his knuckles. Bellamy's words felt like something he could say himself. He cupped Bellamy's jaw in his hand gently. "I would tell you everyone deserves forgiveness, but... I doubt you're any more likely to believe those words than I am right now, so I'll spare them."
He looked at Bellamy another long moment before wrapping his arms around Bellamy, resting his chin on Bellamy's shoulder rather than pressing his face to the side of Bellamy's neck like he wanted to. He couldn't get distracted by the feel and scent of Bellamy's skin. "I know you, Bellamy. Less than I'd like to, but... you tried to save him." It was a question, but also not one.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 2:45:06 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy finally looked at Jackson as he brushed away his tear. Bellamy should have jerked his head away, but he didn't. He knew he was undeserving of the tender touch, but whatever shred of humanity that was left in him . . . craved it. Craved a touch that would not make him flinch nor cause pain. A touch over his marked skin, a created mask to air his misdeeds. But there did not seem to be any judgment for Jackson. His words reflective of that, but also revealing of the that that he didn't forgive himself either.
Bellamy didn't know all the details of what those who had been chipped were forced to do. But he could imagine. He had heard bits and pieces. He had seen the aftermath. He wanted to offer him the chance to open up as well, but he knew now that it didn't come without him opening up first. Bellamy's eyes remained on Jackson and the next thing he knew, the doctor was pulling him into a hug. Bellamy stilled for a moment, but it was hardly long until his own arms slowly wrapped around Jackson, as if nearly forgetting what it was to be hugged. To be embraced.
The sensation of it, the reminder of it . . . and for Jackson to be the one giving him this, made it all the more powerful. His words played in his mind. Even without the details, Jackson seemed to know that he had tried to save him. Jackson, a man that knew him better than his own sister did. Or at least knew that he would try. "It wasn't good enough," Bellamy whispered. "Trying, isn't good enough." Not for him. And everyone knew it. "I wish they'd let me help." The words came out with even over thinking it.
The guard he had forced to be raised, slowly crumbling down, and dangerously exposing more than what Bellamy ever intended to. "Why do you want to get to know me?" He asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer; almost fearing it because of how damn unworthy he was of someone, anyone's understanding and compassion. Suddenly, he couldn't show the same restraint Jackson did, so he tilted his head to the side, burying his face against the crook of Jackson's skin, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and soaking in the feeling of embracing him, the familiar scent but most importantly . . . the comfort and warmth that Jackson always managed to give him.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 7, 2016 4:17:18 GMT
I wish they'd let me help. So Bellamy had tried to help and wasn't even allowed to contribute. Bellamy shouldn't be blaming himself for that, then, and Jackson almost said so, until Bellamy spoke again. The question made Jackson automatically tighten his arms around Bellamy, and when Bellamy pressed his face to Jackson's neck, Jackson couldn't help tilting his head to rest his cheek against Bellamy's hair.
"I can't explain it," Jackson murmured. He'd opened up to Bellamy on the Ark, the first person aside from Abby that he'd ever opened up to. He'd exposed even more of himself to Bellamy later, because he thought Bellamy would die. But Bellamy didn't die, and Jackson kept opening up too him one the rare nights they had together. It was like Bellamy saw through him without trying, and Jackson couldn't resist letting himself be seen.
But Bellamy needed an answer. Bellamy needed to know why he was worthy of this, right now. So Jackson tried to explain. "You helped me. You've been an outlet for me that I don't normally give myself. Not just physical, but emotional. You've never judged me. You've seen me." It was scary now, though. What if he let Bellamy see him again after all he'd done and Bellamy finally rejected him? "I think you deserve the same."
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 12:12:47 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy felt the way that Jackson's arms tightened around him, the hesitation to ever let going increasing in the leader of the faction. He felt as if he needed this. Needed him. Not in the romantic way necessarily, but in a way that made him want to hold on to anyone who didn't see him as a monster. Even though they should. Even though he didn't deserve to be seen as a person, but a creature who constantly created chaos and death. His words slowly absorbed into Bellamy, taking in the meaning of each other. Had his face not been nestled against Jackson's neck, Bellamy was certain that more tears would have fallen.
He helped him. He had been an outlet for him. Bellamy was used to that, but in a different way. He'd once been an outlet for Raven. An outlet for Clarke. Hell, an outlet for Octavia. All circumstances had been different, being what they needed him to be. But with Jackson . . . it had never felt so one sided. Jackson had always offered comfort to him, whether he knew it or not. That was what made Bellamy so desperate to salvage this. To salvage them. To still selfishly have him in his life. Bellamy disagreed though. He didn't deserve the understanding on compassion he greedily took from the medic.
But he wasn't going to tell him that. He couldn't tell him that he didn't deserve it. This was someone -- one of the few -- who saw him as a human. Saw him as more than a punching bag, more than a failure. More than . . . what so many others seemed to see him as. "You've seen me too," he told him, creating an inch of a distance between his face and neck just so his words were audible. He wanted him to know that. Jackson said that he would like to get to know him better, and he wanted Jackson to be aware that he knew him better than most others did.
"You've been there for me. During some of the hardest times in my life." After he got his mother floated and Octavia arrested, after Mount Weather. And of course, now. He slowly drew his head back to look at him, his eyes moist with tears. "Thank you." For not looking at him like a monster. For not giving up on him. His words spoken with sincerity, filled with emotion. Gratitude. So many other things he couldn't quite classify. He knew that with each of his actions, he grew uglier, the marks on his face proving it. But Jackson never seemed phased by it. Bellamy could no longer resist, he leaned forward, placing a light kiss on Jackson's cheek. While it wasn't heated, it was filled with emotional.
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