Time heals all wounds

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy waited until he was sure she was sleeping. Her limited movement, her steady breathing, all things indicated that she was in as deep of a sleep as their tormented past would allow them. He knew he should leave. He knew he should go to Mel and explain things to her. And yet . . . he couldn't leave Clarke. Not like this. He had told her he would be here for her; that they would get through this together. If he just walked out like that, he would be betraying all he had said to her. He would speak to Mel tomorrow. He of course had to, and would be nothing but honest with her. So he just sat next to Clarke, saying nothing while she slept. He gently pulled the blanket over her at one point, leting his hand casually rest on her shoulder for several moments.

He had closed his eyes at one point, not even certain if he had drifted or not. Before he knew it though, the sun was starting to rise, yet he remained. Intending to do so until Clarke was fully awake. His hands were at his side once more, trying to determine if she was awake or not. Deciding that he would beat the rush, he went outside her tent to get breakfast. It wasn't fully ready yet, but he was able to get some fruit and fill it in a bowl. He also took some of the hot water that was already prepared, and put some leaves in it that Monty had found to make tea. A comfort drink. He then returned to her tent, pushing aside the flap with his body as he held the two breakfast items in his hand, until he was standing in her tent once more.

[Clarke Griffin]

She didn’t move. Clarke noticed she was alone when she was finally fully awake. Bellamy was gone. Clarke stared at the place he was occupying when she fell asleep. For a long time she just stared at the place, wondering why it hurt so much to know he was gone, before she looked around. He was really nowhere to be seen in her tent. It was a sad tent really, but good for Clarke. It was empty, like herself, nothing left to enjoy, like there was nothing left to live for, for her. Slowly the blonde moved her painful arm, wincing a little. Slowly she rearranged her pillows and her blanket. Clarke had no intention of getting up that day. She wanted to hide away in what she created something like a nest really. 

Someone entered the tent. Clarke moved deeper into the pillows, dragging the blanket just a little higher, to hide herself. It was Bellamy. Did he just return? She peaked out almost curiously. Did he think she’d eat or drink? He was wrong there. Clarke had no intention of doing either. But he was back, for whatever reason. She didn’t get him. She didn’t understand so many things. She didn’t deserve kindness and bringing breakfast was kind. At the same time it hurt to even see him and she didn’t even understand why. All Clarke knew it did. And she knew she could not do anything about it, she needed to either be supportive or let go. She was letting go. Of everything and so she didn’t move or speak.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Upon re-entering the tent, Bellamy could see movement from Clarke. Albeit, limited movement, but it was perhaps indication that she was awake. "You up?" He questioned, just to be sure. He moved to sit next to her again, setting down the bowl and cup next to her. If she wasn't actually awake, well then, he supposed this would just be him talking to himself. But his gut was telling him she was up. And that was enough to encourage him to keep talking.

"I just stepped out to get some breakfast," he explained. He hadn't wanted her to wake up alone, which had been the reason he'd spent the night here with her. He should have waited until she was up before exiting the tent -- even if it was for just a short time. Waking up to no one there . . . well, he knew how terrifying that could be. But thanks to Mel, his experience with it had been quite limited the past few months. "You should eat, Clarke," he urged. He knew he couldn't force her, but he sincerely hoped she did. She needed to build up her strength. "How's your arm?" He further inquired. He would probably speak to Abby about it, though Clarke's mother probably already knew to check up on it. With Clarke having scratched it last night . . . he was concerned for the severity of it.

[Clarke Griffin]

Bellamy explained why he had gone out this morning. It made sense to her. That was like Bellamy to get food, to hope she would eat and allow herself not to suffer a bit, while she so clearly deserved it. He was nurturing after all, even though he might not want to admit to it. He wanted to care for the people he cared for. How would Clarke, how could Clarke make it stop? He was not one to give up on people, no matter how much they deserved exactly that. He’d save her from whatever attack she would be under, if it came to it. Clarke slowly sat up, her eyes remaining on him, almost curiously. Should she explain things to him? And if so how? How could she explain how she felt? How the thought of eating made her feel nauseous? Even though she didn’t want to speak she knew she had to.

“I… it’s okay.” She replied, voice shaky, as if she hadn’t used it in days. Maybe it was because she was still weak or her mind would not let her use her voice like she was used to. Whatever it was, it was her status quo now. She would have to deal with it. Clarke looked down on her arm. Was it really okay? Physically, yes. But with her mental state, it was dangerous right now, for her own life, not that she wanted to save it. “I feel sick.” She explained. While part of her didn’t want to eat, it was actually true. She felt sick. The thought of eating made her feel that way, though Clarke consciously knew it was just her mind, it had quite the physical effects on her. Just as the blonde looked up, she noticed a shadow in the corner, as if someone was standing there, a shadowy presence that refused to come into focus for her. “Who’s there?”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She claimed that it was ok, but that she felt sick. Bellamy wondered if it was the result of the wound . . . if it was deeper than he had assumed. Had Abby come in to check on her? Maybe not. Otherwise, she surely would have still been with her. After al, Bellamy was not gone long. He had just stepped out to get breakfast. Setting the plates down he moved closer to her, looking at her intently, trying to look for any signs of . . . he didn't even know. Just something. It was her next words that really assured him that something was not right when she asked who was there.

He turned his head to look, not seeing anyone, wondering if she saw otherwise. Was her wound infected? Was she hallucinating? "Come on Clarke," he said, offering his hand to her. "We're going to see your mom." He would go to bring Abby here but he really didn't want to leave Clarke alone again. He'd rather take her with him and at least that way, she could be checked in medical if it was necessary. His gaze went to her arm, seeing what he could of it. This wasn't his field of expertise. He just assumed Abby would know what to do.

[Clarke Griffin]

“No.” Clarkes reply was instant, but not harsh. It was clear she had no desire to go to see her mother. What could her mother possibly do? She was a doctor. She wouldn’t even name what Clarke had. She cared for her body more than her mind. It was Jackson, who had seen it, Jackson who was not blinded by familial connections. She didn’t want to go see her mother. Her mother couldn’t help her, especially not with how messed up she was. Bellamy was the one who could help, not her mother. Clarke shook her head.

“She can’t help. She can patch me up, but… nothing else. She can’t help.” Clarke insisted. Bellamy could help. Their friends maybe, healing could help, but not her mother. What she did remained and Clarke was too stubborn to let go of it. Clarke also remembered what she said, what she did. There was too much she had to deal with when she was around. With him she would have to deal with her guilt for him and not to repeat it. “Why do you want to take me to her?” What could motivate it? A lot could. He would find she wouldn’t eat and if she did only bites, finding no appetite, she had wounds of course, there was a lot. 

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

No? She spoke of how her mother could only patch her up, but not help. And then further inquired as to why he wanted to take her to him. He knew that this wasn't so much the physical injury but the mental one. The ones that he had thought they could get through together. But they hadn't. And now . . . he didn't know what to do. "Because I don't know how to help you," he admitted, his words holding a stronger weight to them than just merely being a man who did not have medical expertise. He didn't know how to help her. He thought he did. He thought he knew how by pulling that lever with her.

He thought they could help each other by sharing the burden. He thought . . . so many things that had all been utterly wrong. He felt defeated. Unsure. So many damn things when it came to Clarke. How she could still have this power over him, he didn't know. "What do you want me to do?" He asked her, the question once again, holding a stronger weight than just a mere quick fix. What did he want her to do. How could he help her. Was it too late to even try? No. He couldn't believe that. She had come back for a reason. She had returned to face what forced her away. But . . . would he make things better or worse? That was the real question he was struggling with. The one he feared the answer to.

[Clarke Griffin]

He didn’t know how to help her and she didn’t know how she could be helped. She had issues, lots of them. She was sick, she knew that what she had was a sickness, but the cure for it was hard to come by and health was hard to achieve. It would take time for her to heal from it, to get rid of the impulses alone. But what could someone do? What could anyone really do about it? There was only one thing that could work with that. There was ever only one thing that could help with that. “I just…” Was it really that easy? Could it really possibly be that easy? For her? “I just need your understanding of this. Nothing more.” She didn’t even need his support, just…. She just needed him to understand that parts of this, her own behavior were beyond her control right now. She didn’t want this sickness. She didn’t want any of this. She wanted to be whole and at peace and safe, but that was unachievable for her right now.

The question as if he could understand. Bellamy was a clever man, but this took a strain on people, on her, on everyone around her. She saw it already and it would continue to do so. Honesty was really the only thing she could give him in that moment. He deserved her full honesty, but she couldn’t even give herself honesty. Clarke was here in a bed, unsure of where this would take her, where this was headed. She wanted to be whole, but she didn’t know how, she didn’t know how to do that alone. “I can’t ask anything else of you. Just… understanding for this.”

Bellamy Blake