I Can't Lose Her

[Gena Martin]

“Oh believe me, I do.” She always did, at least ever since she actually knew him. She had gotten to know him on the Ark and the man here was not so different from the man she originally met. He made sense. He was just Bellamy with the experiences from the ground added, with the horrors. She knew his devotion to the others, she knew what she had gotten herself into and yet sometimes it still hurt. What was she to do against that anyway? There was not much she could do to begin with. She accepted him and loved him for who he was, though. There was nothing she wanted to change about his personality, she just wanted to lift the weight of his shoulders and help him battle his demons, no matter what that meant for her. 

Gena smirked up until he denied the crutch. The idiot. Sometimes Gena couldn’t believe him. What was he trying to prove here? That he was fine? Both her and the apprentice knew he wasn’t. That guy had stitched up his leg, he had seen the damn damage in his leg. He didn’t need to play the strong man when he wasn’t. But instead he kept on doing it. It was sad, really, the way he hobbled around, apparently too stubborn to admit he needed help. There was no shame in needing help, though. He was so willing to help others, but getting help himself? He was pretty useless at that. This idiot. And she loved him, she even loved those antics. Gena took the crutches from the apprentice and rounded the table. He didn’t even get that far in the time she climbed from her seated position and walked to it. 

“Okay, Mr. Stubborn Blake. The way I see it, you have two options here. Either you take the crutch to get to our place or you lean on me. But this will cost you extra. A lot.” Well nothing he wasn’t willing to do anyway. She was mostly teasing him. As she stood there, though, she realized she referred to his room as their place surprisingly easily even though they never defined it as it. They just… always returned to it, a lot of her stuff was in there, really she was basically living there recently. It didn’t matter though. What mattered was to get him there as painless as possible, to get him settled in his bed and find something to occupy him with so he would be distracting from the possibility of leaving to find Clarke. She did have an idea. 

“Take it, Bellamy. Come on. The faster you allow yourself to be helped, the sooner we will get home. And the sooner we can sit and enjoy our evening and take your mind off of what happened. I do intend to be a good nurse, too. If that doesn’t sound tempting to you, what does?”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

He could instantly tell with her tone, the expression on her face and the way she moved toward him what was coming. He was a stubborn ass, he knew that. And Gena was one of the few people that could actually shift his seemingly unwavering mind. She always did it for his benefit, for his betterment. And he . . . well, he knew how he felt about her, despite the fact that it remained unsaid. He just listened to her logic, one that was very sound.

Take the crutch or lean on her -- teasing that it would cost him extra. The reason that he didn't want to physically lean on her didn't have to do with her tease. It had more to do with the fact, that he literally did not want to put his weight on her. He had done it with Monty when he was the one to convince him to go back, and Monty had a far smaller frame than him. He knew it must have been a strain on the former delinquent. Bellamy didn't want ot do that to Gena, even if it wasn't quite as far. It seemed that his mind was made up.

Begrudgingly, he took the crutch, clearly displeased with the fact that this was his only option. He didn't fail to recognize that Gena had referred to the quarters as home. Their home. He found only comfort in that. For his home was where she was. They said home is where the heart is . . . and Gena held his heart, whether she knew it or not. Postioning the crutch accordingly, he leaned on it, despising every second that he had to rely on the metal object to enable him to walk, hindering and slowing his movements. But he couldn't lie . . . it felt a lot better than limping and putting pressure on it.

"You make a good argument," he admitted, giving her credit where it was due. "Cause that sounds pretty damn good right now." What she described. Just going and resting, and enjoy what was left of their evening or night. Together. "Let's go home," he told her, reminding himself of that word. Of being home with her, here and now. With that, he began to move with the crutch, staying alongside her, though trying to keep his uusal pace . . . even if it was impossible right now. At this point, he just wanted to get out of here and stay behind closed doors with her.

[Gena Martin]

“I have to.” Gena pointed out. “With you as a boyfriend.” With him her arguments had to be top. Otherwise the stubborn Blake would never listen to her and that was, sadly a fact. Gena knew how to take him and how to deal with his stubborn moment, this being one of them. She had known he’d choose the crutches, for the simple reason that he was a protector and protecting did not include putting weight on someone he intended to protect, especially not for their own gain. She knew what she had to do, now, though: Take care of him and distract him so he could not think twice about what happened and what he lost and what could happen. And so she walked home with him in silence. She knew he hated being babied so the walking had to happen alone. Once at his place, a relatively spacious apartment, she made it straight for his little cooking area, turning on the heating so she could start to cook any moment, just pausing for a split second at the domestic feeling of it all. She really had moved in here in a way, hadn’t she?

“I’d say you should get settled on the bed.” Gena suggested while she poured water into a pot and put it on the heater. She did the same again for a nice warm tea for the two of them. “Do you want to change?” She thought he might want to do exactly that. The clothes he wore were probably not the most comfortable. But he could do that alone, right? She’d help, of course, but she didn’t want to humiliate him. She loved him. She wanted the best for him. Gena put the leaves into the water and then looked at him, waiting for him to answer so she could get to work at the food.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Gena Martin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She was absolutely right about that. Then again, she was right about most things. He knew he wasn't an easy person to be with, and yet . . . she tolerated him. She put up with him. It made his feelings for her so much stronger. He moved down the hall, unwardly cursing at the damn crutch he was forced to use. The limited mobility of his leg. He hated being hindered in anyway, yet what other choice did he have? Once they arrived, she went straight to he makeshift stove and turned it on. He loved the sight of her in his room. No. That was wrong. In their room. Because they spent every night together. It wasn't an official move, but sometimes, it didn't matter about needing to make it formal.

With them, they spoke to each other with their hearts. He moved toward the chair and sat down, taking a few slow breaths, hating that that mere walk left him so drained and physically taxed. She asked him if he wanted to change and knew that was probably for the best. His clothes were damp with sweat, and stained with blood. "Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to his feet, gripping the edge of the table to keep him stable. He limped to where his clothes were hanging on the hook, forcing back the small grunts of pain until he got there. Reaching for them, he gripped them in his hand and went the short distance to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it he breathed out in relief.

He wouldn't be able to keep standing on it for too long . . . and despised the fact that he couldn't. But if there was anyone he didn't have to hide this from, it was Gena. He never felt weak or judged. Even if he hated it. Swallowing and bracing himself, he reached down to take off his boot, the lowered upper half of his body causing some strain but not too much. He quickly removed both his boots before sitting upright again, and then taking off his shirt to change into the other. Next, were his pants. But he paused before even attempting to change them. Instead he just looked at her, and the tea he could tell she was preparing. "Have you eaten?" He asked her, wanting to make sure he hadn't interrupted her dinner or anything, especially if she was coming straight from work when he had been in medical.

[Gena Martin]

This time she let him be stubborn. She let him do this alone. If he needed help, he knew to call. He knew, logically, that he could ask for her help and receive it without question or humiliation, but care instead. But he was a stubborn and prideful man. He needed this sometimes, especially since apparently he was stubborn enough to want to go right back out there, without thinking about who was back here. And that was not just Gena. That was Octavia, too. That was his family, his friends. He risked it, for her. And it hurt. It hurt to know how far he would go for someone else. There was more to that feeling, but at the moment she did not want to allow herself those thoughts. She heard him rustle behind her. He was here. He was safe. He agreed to stay. It had to be enough, at least for now. This topic had time until he was healed and maybe then it would no longer matter.

At his question the girl with the locks turned around to look at her boyfriend, who was still, technically in the middle of changing and yet he seemed concerned about her. It was… a good feeling and not good at the same time. He could worry about her again now, not only about this Clarke. He was fully back here and not out there, where he could do nothing to help someone else. Here he could be at least a friend, a lover a protector. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he went out there and only found her dead. He’d beat himself up about that. She couldn’t let that happen. “I haven’t.” She replied to his question, finally. “I haven’t had the time yet. Which is why I’m making us soup. You haven’t eaten in a while either, have you?” Of course not. She heard it already. She would make them a nice soup, feed them both, hopefully get him fully settled, find something to calm him further. 

“Root soup.” Gena specified, trying to remain nonchalant of everything. “I know most people here don’t like them, but this soup is amazing. Have you noticed? It’s so rich with nutrients. And with a few spices it doesn’t even taste half bad. I think we can both use the nutrients, don’t you agree?”

Bellamy Blake