I Can't Lose Her

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Hhad been so close. So damn close. Hell, he had touched her even. Yet he couldn't save her. And that failure was not something he was willing to ever forgive himself for . . . especially if something happened to her. Monty had convinced him to go back and against every instinct he had, he did. Because he knew that was the logical thing to do. He knew he would not be of any use dead. So he complied. On the ride back, they had bound the wound but it would still need to be treated. His recklessness had caused a severe loss of blood, and yet all the pain was numbed by the fear that pumped through him. Fear for Clarke. Fear of that being the last time he saw her. When they got to Arkadia, he was helped out of the rover, with Kane to assist him inside. It seemed that the others Pike had come with had arrived so he helped them start to get settled. Bellamy urged Monty to go with his mother, saying that he would be fine.

Reluctantly, the younger male left as Marcus helped Bellamy toward medical. They were informed that the Chancellor and Jackson were away . . . briefing Kane on what happened. Bellamy was only half listening, starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood. Once they were in the designated medical area, Bellamy lay back on the makeshift bed for patients, using the opportunity to catch his breath due to the over exertion of his wounded leg. It was only shortly after that someone else joined the scene. Someone that Monty must have gotten. Bellamy turned his head to look at her, unable to smile despite the comfort of her presence and the mere sight of her. "Gena," he breathed out. He attempted to sit up but felt hands push him back down, causing him to cringe at his own actions, and then in frustration that he was so damn immobile. Bellamy had barley head what Marcus was saying before he left, leaving Bellamy with Gena.

[Gena Martin]

A glass crashed, the amber liquid in it spilling onto the floor, as one of the barkeepers shouted to another to take over, even though it was not his turn to tend to the people of Arkadia. She ran, careless of the mess she made, around the bar, following a boy out into the hallway. Her heart was racing so fast. When Monty told her about Bellamy being injured, he not so subtly omitted how badly, probably to not worry her too much, but at the same time it had the exact same result. She had been on edge anyway. He was gone so long, increasing the chances of him getting hurt and now he was hurt. It was her personal worst case scenario at the moment.

It got worse when she came in. Bell was pale. The way he said her name, unable to even hint at a smile, told her how bad it was. This was not a good sign at all. When she rushed to him to take his hand, thankful that they held him to the bed, she saw how bad it was. His leg. There was so much blood. No wonder he was pale. No wonder he didn’t seem to have energy. But they could deal with it. They had supplies and… where the hell was the chancellor? Kane answered her question even before she asked it. An apprentice, a complete newbie, was to take care of Bellamy. “You better not fuck this up!” Gena warned him, leaving him to do what he was training to do, as she turned back to Bellamy.

“Bellamy, what happened?” She looked at the wound again. It seemed so deep and almost clean and…. His face on top of it. “WHO did this to you??” Someone had to have done it to him. The young woman moved, clinging to his hand as she ran her hand through his locks.


Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

The warmth of her hand soothed his entire body. It provided him with a certain security, a safety. With her, he felt protected. Not necessarily physically, but rather, emotionally . . . which was far more impactful; far more meaningful. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, closing his eyes for a moment as he listened to her speak to the student who would be patching him up. Had the circumstances been different, Bellamy would have offered an amused smile, or playful look of sympathy to the apprentice . . . but he was not in the right frame of mind for doing so. He had lost Clarke. She had slipped right through his fingers, and he had let it happen. Swallowing back the emotions, he opened his eyes to look at Gena, a most welcome and beautiful sight.

She did not represent his failures or monsterous actions. She provided proof, of the good that could be found in this world. She asked him what happened and he wasn't sure how to explain. Bellamy was fully aware that what he had done was reckless. Impulsive. But nor did he care. All that had mattered was that Clarke was in danger. And she still was. "It was a Grounder." That was the best way he could describe it, since he knew nothing else apart from the man who was dragging Clarke with him. Bellamy clenched his jaw, no longer feeling pain from his wound but rather, from his futile attempt to bring her home. "I couldn't save her." His voice held an exasperated defeat to it; a low volumed tone of acknowledgment for his failure. He was unsure how much Octavia, Raven and the others had told Gena about why he and Monty didn't return with them. But the words just came out, not taking into account the possiibility that she may not know who he was referring to. Surely, she would.

[Gena Martin]

A Grounder. They had encountered Grounders and were attacked? What about the rules of engagement? What the hell had gone wrong on this mission? Was this it? The fragile dream about to shatter? They hurt Bellamy, of all people. It could hardly get worse than this. Well in Genas world it could only get worse if they took his life. He was not only her boyfriend, but her best friend, the one man who made her believe that they could come out of this on top and alive and holding on to at least a shred of humanity, because he was holding onto his despite what happened to him. Bellamy was still human, he was still compassionate and caring and unwilling to take a life for nothing. He was perfect in so many ways, even though he refused to see or acknowledge it often. It was his other sentence that made even more sense to her. He couldn’t save her. That could only be a handful of people. Raven and Octavia were in Arkadia after they left. This really only left one person: Clarke Griffin. They had found her and they couldn’t save her. Did this mean…? No, surely not.

“Is she alive?” Gena asked. She needed to know. She had no idea what to say next and what she would say would depend on what he told her. If she was alive there was still hope and she needed him to cling to that. If she was alive, they could still save her. If not, well he got hurt, he tried his best to save her. Nobody could fault him for being human, for not being able to save her. He tried and that was all that mattered. “Did the Grounder…?” Did he kill her? It sounded like that was the person he tried to save her from. 

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Is she alive. A perfectly valid question and yet one that Bellamy feared the answer to. What if she wasn't anymore? What if that was the last time he would see her? The last time he would touch her? What if the Grounder had taken her to Nia? What if she killed her already? The fear was too much, leaving a pain the pitt of Bellamy's stomach . . . an ache in his heard. A paralyzing fear that he couldn't even begin to process. They couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her. "Last I saw," he answered, knowing that was the best repsonse he could give . . . and yet, it wasn't good enough at all. He should have fought harder. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. He shouldn't have let Clarke go . . . again. "A grounder has her," he further explained.

Some damn Grounder had her, was holding her prisoner to take to the queen of the Ice Nation and for what? Some stupid ass belief that Clarke's spirit would give her power?! Instead of seeing her as a figure who had saved the Grounders, they saw her as a force to kill and consume the power of. Bellamy raised his head to look down at the medical apprentice who was continuing to work on his leg. He then gave Gena's hand another gentle squeeze, not due to any physical pain he was in . . . but just the reminder, the ressurance that she was here. That she at least was safe, where Bellamy failed so many others . . . he would not fail Gena. "Did the others come?" He asked. 63 more Arkers. Had they all arrived? Were they settled? It was another topic that Bellamy needed to know more about, but most importantly . . . it was a way to pass the time until his wound was tended to and he could get back out there in the search for Clarke.

[Gena Martin]

She was alive. When he saw her, she was alive. That was good. There was still time. They could still save her. Gena squeezed his hand gently. “If she’s still alive, chances are she won’t die within the next hours. He needs her alive. And you told me she’s clever.” She hadn’t met Clarke herself, so she could only go by what Bellamy said. “You told me she is good at surviving.” That she came out on top, even though he initially thought she was a stuck up Alpha Station princess. “She survived alone out there for three months. She’s still alive. She was still alive when you saw her, she’s still alive now. Maybe she’s freed herself.” She hoped. Whatever it meant for Bellamy, Gena hoped this Clarke would survive, because this, this right now scared her. He was so desperate, so hellbent on needing to protect her. He needed her. And Gena, in turn, needed to reassure him.

When Bellamy raised his head, Gena decided to change their position a bit. She moved him, so she could slip onto the stretcher with him, settling his head in her lap. Reaching for his hand again, her other ran through his hair, caressing it, hopefully soothing his worries. “I think so, yes. The hangar got pretty full. They’re all in grounder clothing, but I think they’re settling in nicely. I saw a lot of hugs, so they’re fine. Don’t worry about them.” He needed to worry about himself and about Clarke. He had peace and now it was shattered again and in all honesty it broke her heart. She had been with him long enough to know how hard it was for him to get to that peace and now it was all shattered. 

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

While everything Gena said was true, Bellamy couldn't help but feel fearful for Clarke. She was needed alive; she's clever; she's a survivor . . . everything Gena listed off that Bellamy had spoken of in regards to Clarke was true. And on some level, it was comforting. Perhaps more so who it was coming from. Bellamy did not often talk about Clarke to Gena, but she was the only one who he could talk to about her. He knew Octavia had less than amicable feelings toward her . . . so when it had come down to having to discuss Clarke, Gena was the only one he felt safe doing so around. It was a difficult thing to explain; a painful one. Which was why he did not bring forth the subject often. But right now, in this moment . . . this was what he needed to hear from Gena. The reminder, that Clarke was a fighter. That she would not go down so easily.

That she could stay alive, just long enough for Bellamy to make his way to her -- which he had every intention of doing after his damn leg healed. "Nia wants her dead. She believes that by killing her, she can absorb her spirit, her strength." Had Mount Weather had demonstrated to everyone the kind of strength that Clarke had. This whole 'wanheda' bit was something Bellamy had learned from Indra. "They won't keep her alive for long." It was too risky to have someone like that alive for a long time. So he knew that once the queen of the Ice Nation got her hands onf Clarke . . . it was over. Indra had been depserate enough to come to them and ask for their help. This was no light matter. Getting increasingly worried, increasingly frustrated with his failure, it seemed as if yet again, Gena knew precisely what to do. She moved her position, allowing his head to rest in the comfort and warmth of her lap, stroking his hair, which allowed him to close his eyes.

Not due to any chance of slipping into unconsciousness, but rather, allowing himself to selfishly bask in the comfort that she never failed to provide him with. Her beautiful voice filled the otherwise silent air, and that was what he needed to hear. Hell, he didn't even care that someone else was in the room. "There's 63 of them," Bellamy explained, at least partially relieved over hearing that they had made it safe and sound. "They lost a lot of people." Because of the Grounders. He wanted to know who was accounted for; who would be mourned. Bellamy swallowed, not daring to open his eyes yet. Instead, he just took her hand that held his own and raised it to his lips, gently kissing her hand in a tender gesture. A silent thank you. A silent symbol of his need for her. The need to know she was here, that she would always be here.

[Gena Martin]

“Hey.” Gena began again. She needed him to think differently. She needed him to think of another version of his friend, just so he could have hope. She survived alone out there for three months. They brought the mountain together, something the Grounders were apparently incapable of. They did something this culture couldn’t do for decades, within weeks only. It earned her, apparently, her title and so called power, but it also showed how resourceful both she and Bellamy were. They could bring down an entire mountain, win a war, all by themselves. It was damn impressive. “Bell, do you remember the tale of Troy? How only a few people could bring down the city with cleverness and wit? You and Clarke did the same. She is clever. She knows you’re out there, looking for her. She will manage to cling to life a little longer. She will find a way to make them keep her alive. She will find something to use. You would. And she will. Trust yourself. You told me about her. Trust what you told me about her.” She would survive. He would get the chance to save her. He would save her. He had to save her, it would shatter him if he couldn’t?

But for now Farm station was a better topic. Some of the people she knew might be alive. She would go and see who was and who wasn’t once Bellamy was released. Maybe he would join her. Maybe he would go off to save Clarke. She would see, but she would stay here and find out about it. She would expect Bellamy back with something that soothed him, wether he needed it because Clarke was lost or because he saved her, it didn’t matter. Gena blushed as he kissed her hand, always the sweet gentleman, always the man who was her best friend and whom she loved. “But 63 survived. That’s something. And you helped bring them home, Bellamy. You’ll bring a 64th person home soon.”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy looked at Gena, focusing on her in all her perfection. She began to speak of something that he had always been so passonate about. One of the many lessons in history. Troy. The Trojan horse had been a strategy used in Mount Weather; to attack from within. It was something that resonated strongly with him, which he knew Gena was well aware of. She knew him well enough to know what would sit with him; what would register. While he would not stop worrying nor allow the fear to dminish, while he would continue to blame himself for any harm placed upon her down to the smallest cut she received after he had failed in saving her from the clutches of the Grounder . . . he knew that Gena was right. Clarke was a fighter; a surviver.

He doubted Roan was her first encounter with danger. She would survive this too. This would not be what brought her down. And as Gena accurately stated, she just needed to hold on a little longer. Becaues as soon as his leg was tended to . . . he was heading right back out there. "We can't lose her." It was the same words he had exploded with in front of the others; the same words he had uttered to Monty. The impact of them so strong. He was burdened by them; weighted by them. Any hurt and anger at her was numbed with the realization that he -- they could lose her. But really, he couldn't lose her either. That was far more difficult to publicly admit to. She then spoke of finding solance and comfort in the people he had heped bring home . . . speaking confidently of how he would also help the 64th.

Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in her words, trying to find whatever ease he could in them. At least for now while he was curently immobile. He took a deep breath, trying to focus only on what he could control right now. Opening his eyes once more, he looked at the woman who had captured him; the one who had so intensely enthralled him. "Thank you." For her words. For being here. For being with him. It was all he could bring himself to say in this moment, the two seemingly simple words, thick with sincerity. "You're right. We'll bring her home. We have to" As the 64th Arker to return to them. Because losing her was not an option. In that moment, the apprentice took a step back from where he had been working. "All done! You will have to stay off of it for a little while." Bull shit. Bellamy had no intention of doing that. So he just ignored the man, having no questions about it. Because after tonight, he was heading back out there in the search for Clarke.

[Gena Martin]

We can’t lose her, he said. He meant something else entirely. For some reason this one sentence. It was deep and she knew he meant it. She knew he cared a lot about this Clarke, but this wound. This desperate words. His conviction, this direction, he cared for her a lot and maybe she didn’t want to see it, but right now there was no way to not see it. He was here because of it. He was going to leave, with a badly hurt wound, to find her and bring her back. And it was good, that was him. This, him saving people, caring for others above all, that was why she loved him. She fell in love with his love for his family, his need to be there for others, with a man, who was so much more than even he realized, this was just the man she fell in love with being herself. But she was scared for him. He was risking his life, for her and she just left him to pick up the pieces alone. She picked up her own alone, but left him to pick up his. But they didn’t let him, he had support here, yet he was nowhere near being actually healed, he still had a long way ahead of him. 

Gena placed her hand on his chest, to hopefully hold him down, should he get ideas. She needed him to stay still at least for a little while longer, if not for at least a day or two, maybe a week. The others could do the work for once. He did everything for them, it was time for them to do the saving one, even if it was hard on him. Gena knew he would be restless and a crappy patient, but he had to stop. “Bell, we will find her, yes. But” she hated this as much as he must hate hearing it. She hated the worry and pain she felt and he had physical pain. “it won’t help her if you go and bleed to death out there. You can hardly walk. Let the others do the saving for once. I am sure Kane has already assembled a rescue mission for her. I am sure he and the chancellor are already on the way of trying their hardest to get her back. We all know she won’t stop until she has her daughter back. She wants her back as badly as you do But I think she wants you alive. Please, one more night. I’m sure she doesn’t want to lose you.” Gena didn’t want to lose him. “I don’t want to lose you either.”


Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Gena's hand on his chest, put him at ease, not about to reject her touch or reject it by sitting up. It provided a warmth, a comfort that flooded the entirety of his body. She was right, in so many ways . . . yet his stubborn nature made him impatient. He hated being idle, for an injury especially. He couldn't argue with her logic, knowing there was legitimacy to it. Kane and Abby would do all they could to bring her home safely. Gena was also right in saying that Clarke would not want him dead because of this. Hell, she had promised not to fight against the Grounder anymore so that he would spare him. But it wasn't until Gena's lastly spoken words that Bellamy fully paused and just looked at her. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I don’t want to lose you either."

He was used to living for other people, that was the nature of his life. Since Octavia was born, he had been completely devoted to her. Since he came down onto Earth, he had fought to protect the delinquents. He would give up his life for anyone, if it meant they stayed safe. And yet . . . Gena's words, made him realize how utterly selfish he was being. For the longest time, he never believed he deserved love, having failed so many loved ones in the past. But after Mount Weather, he'd become selfish. He wanted happiness, and he had embraaced it . . . he'd found it, in her. She was everything he didn't know he needed or wanted. She was the piece of heaven in this world of hell. His feelings for her ran far deeper than he ever thought possible. He knew what it was. The emotion that consumed him.

He never before had to explain his relationship with others. He never had to explain how close he was to Clarke, or come clean about sleeping with another woman. Why? Because he had never been in a commited relationship before Gena. He had never developed this bond with anyone like he had with her. That, made him realize so many things. That he had trapped her into being with him. That he'd allowed this to happen, and yet ran out in the middle of danger without a second thought to the repercussions. To what could happen if he died. It was different with Octavia. They had not chosen each other, as they were family. Born from the same mother. But Gena . . . they had chosen each other. Fallen for each other. How could he be so selfish to allow this, and not give a second thought about how it could affect her?

He felt ashamed of himself. Guilty. Undeserving of her affections. His hand continued to hold hers, as he just looked into her eyes. Of all the things that she had said, it was that one statement that finally made him accept that he couldn't go back out there hunting for Clarke until his leg was a bit healed. No longer was there that compulsion that as soon as the medical apprenctice finished, that he would rush out there. "I'm sorry," he admitted in a low voice. It was an impossibility to keep the emotion out of it. Besides, she knew him well enough to see right through his stoic nature. "You won't." Not like this. Not because of his damn foolish and impulsive ways.

He needed to find Clarke, but he would not . . . could not be stupid about it. And this was his way of telling her that, of agreeing to it, of heeding to her words. "I'm not spending the night here though." He didn't want to stay in the medical bay. He wanted to be in either his room or hers . . . though really, it was one in the same. He wanted to be in a bed where he could hold her during the entire night. Where he could feel her next to him. He had become dependant on her in so many ways, and he'd missed her in the time he'd been gone. His relationship with Clarke was not an easy one to explain, but right now, it was about Gena. It was about the woman who had stayed with him, who was true to him, loyal, supportive, caring, compassionate . . . the woman that he loved in a way he had never imagined he would love and be loved.

[Gena Martin]

“That’s who you are.” Gena whispered. She didn’t need an apology, not for that. She knew who Bellamy Blake was or at least she thought she did. She had seen him at a very low point in his life, two actually and she went through them with him, holding him, supporting him as much as she could. She knew the man capable of making her cry of laughter within moments, a man with a heart of gold, who didn’t even see his own worth, but Gena saw it, which was another reason why she didn’t want him to go. There were so many. But she knew him. She knew the man she had fallen in love with, the partner she had chosen and who had chosen her. He got to lean on her and she on him, but she was not about to hold him back because she didn’t like something. This was him and she would let him go, however reluctantly, however painful it was. But she could try to make him stay, because going out there was not a good idea. It almost resembled suicide and that was not good at all. She could lose him, but still he didn’t have to apologize for who he was or who he loved. She knew that man.

“Okay.” She whispered, thinking that it was his final word. That he would not stay here, as in Arkadia. And him saying she wouldn’t lose him was a lose promise, that he would return to her. But would he? Either way she had to let him go. She had to let him leave, even though it scared her. With the apprentice being done, there really wasn’t anything that would hold him back. Gena lifted her hand of his chest to let him get up. But as she did, having to face him probably leaving, she felt a familiar sting in her eyes. Tears. She didn’t want to lose him, really. He was… right now he was all she had, apart from Raven. He was everything she had left from even the Ark. “You should probably take a cane or something. You can’t put too much weight on your leg. It would probably be counter productive."

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

That's who he was. No. That wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough. Being with him was a burden and he damn well knew it. But he couldn't let her go. Though the words were left unspoke, his heart felt it. He knew full well his feelings toward her . . . how deep and strong they were, never having felt it for another. He didn't want to be that person that made others worry for him. He didn't want to take for granted the fact that someone like Gena cared about him. She suggested taking a cane with him, accurately saying that he shoudn't put too much weight on it. "I'll rest it for a bit." A way of nonchalantly suggesting that he would wait, before running back out there. He knew he wouldn't be able to walk on it with ease. He didn't want to hurt Gena. He didn't want to do something impulsive and already hated himself for having pulled her into this relationship with him when he knew he would give his life for any of his people.

Especially her. But was always the ones left living that were tortured. For they would be the ones mourning. Bellamy attempted to sit up, stubborn in what he said that he didn't wish to spend the night here. His hands went to his leg to hold it and slowly move it over the edge of the bed while moving his other leg with ease to join it. His face slightly twisted in pain until he began to adjust to this new position. "Do you have to work tonight?" He asked her, his words holding a tease, in attempt to shift the mood from the intensity in which she saw him in. The pain of losing Clarke, the realization of how he could hurt her. It was all so much . . . yet Gena somehow always managed to make it better.

[Gena Martin]

Did she actually hear that correctly? He’d rest it? He’d rest his leg? Bellamy would rest his leg. He would not put himself at risk. She did not have to fear losing him, at least tonight. Tonight she would get to rest knowing he’d rest, complaining probably, but he would rest. Rest and heal. It didn’t lessen the blow of the realization she had, but at least it put her worries to rest. For now. She would not let them go until he was fully healed, if he fully healed. There could still be complications on the horizon, some she did not want to face. But none of that would matter tonight.

“It appears like it.” She replied to his question. But she smirked, eyes still glittering with unshed tears, but she could smile again, as she was so relieved to know he was not running headfirst into danger. Lifting her hand to her face, she whipped the tears off before returning it to his hair. “I should have the day free, but it appears I’m needed as a nurse tonight.” Implying that she was not about to leave him alone this night. And she had no intention to. She wasn’t really meant to work actually, had planned on helping anyway, since she though Bellamy would be on duty. Well he wasn’t, so she was taking her time off to care for him. “A private nurse for a hero, who tends to be a crappy patient.”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

He hated being the reason for her tears. He was unused to this. To coming home to someone like her; a partner he was completely committed to. He loved it. The companionship and well, everything about her was perfect. But he also knew that his actions that put him in this position . . . had not been done with her in mind. And it made him feel guilty. He had to make it up to her. How long until she had enough of his antics? How long until she realized that it was just too much to be with him? Hell, he wouldnt' blame her for it. But nor was he selfless enough to push her away. For each mistake he made . . . he wanted to make amends. Starting with tonight.

Clarke had left him, Gena never had. Not once. So why was she the one that he kept hurting? Pushing the thoughts away, he wantd to only concentrate on her. Focus on Gena. It wasn't that difficult either with how incredible she was. She confirmed that she had the day off, the smirk caused a slight one to form on Bellamy's own expression. A private nurse for a . . . well, he was no hero, but it was a tease and he wasn't going to dispute it depise his awareness of how untrue it was. When she called him a crappy patience, he felt a wave of amusement wash over him. The faint smirk on his face, though slightly faded. "Well at least you know what you're getting yourself into," he teased back. He would be a crappy patient. There was no doubt about that in his mind. It wasn't as if he did it on purpose to give her a hard time. He just hated being useless.

"Might cost me extra though, won't it?" He asked somewhat rhetorically, continuing the tease. Taking a deep breath he attempted to put his feet on the ground. In that moment, the one who had patched him up offered a large metal makeshift crutch. Bellamy glanced at it for a brief moment before turning away. "I don't need that," he stated bluntly. Like hell he needed a crutch. Seems like his bad patient mannerisms were already starting. With heavy breaths he moved to stand up, cringing at the sudden weight placed on his leg and gripped the side table for support as he shifted his weight to put on his good foot. Closing his eyes for a moment he just focused on breathing and regaining his composure. After a few moments, he opened them, feeling like a weak invalid. "Let's go," he said, taking a small hop, refusing to acknowledge his need for help. But really . . . he needed it. Damn his injury. Damn the Grounder that stabbed him with his own dagger.