Mind Games

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Her steady breathing indicated that she was asleep, even if it wasn't a deep one. He kept his eyes open, refusing to let himself lower his guard. He didn't know what these bastards were planning, and he wasn't going to be asleep to find out. He suddenly heard her noises, as she was clearly having a bad dream. He was about to reassure her, to tell her everything was alright, to give her some comfort through physical contact when suddenly, she screamed. He tried to move his arms around her to hold her, but she was lashing out, and struggling to get free from him.

She then bolted to the other side of their cell, clearly disoriented and well, traumatized. Which was completely understandable. But he still wanted to at least attempt to reassure her. "Hey, hey! Clarke, it's me! Bellamy!" He said in attempt to reassure her, to calm her down. He slowly inched toward her, reaching out one hand, moving very slowly so that he didn't startle her any more than he already had. Her words nearly broke his heart, because it showed just how much damage the Grounders had done to her. These bastards were going to pay for what they did. Before he could get any closer, the cage door swung open and Bellamy leaped to his feet, instinctively and as if a quick reflex took over, stood in front of Clarke, blocking her from them. But they didn't seem to want her. Instead, they chained him and pulled him out of the room. He turned his head to look at her, not wanting to leave her in this state. But at the same time . . . better him than her that they took.

[Clarke Griffin]

Panic sat deep in her. Despite the reassuring words, the slow attempt of getting to her, she couldn’t let it happen. She inched closer to the wall, feeling like she needed to stay away from him or anyone else. The things they’d do to her and the others. She didn’t want to imagine it. Slowly he came into focus. It was Bellamy. Initially unpleasant memories of him came up, but then, just as he leaped up and the Grounders came in to take him away, they vanished, remembering her of who he was and what he tended to do: protect her. “No.” It was weak, but it was all she could manage then and there.

Clarke dreaded to know what would happen to him. She wanted to get up, to help him, protect him, but she couldn’t. All she could do was wait and hope and pray that whatever would happen, he’d come back in one piece. Twice she thought she’d seen shadows move, but with the cell not opening, she knew it wasn’t Bellamy. Eventually she found the strength to stand at the bars, to wait for him to see if they’d bring him back or any of the others. “Bring him back.”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy wasn't sure what he expected as he was led to the Grounder leader. More torture. More threats. More demands. As long as they kept their hands off of Clarke and the others, he could handle it. He was relieved that she wans't with him now, but at the same time, he was still fearful. The fact that he couldn't see her or had her near, meant that he didn't know what was happening. They could have her in their grasp, and could be doing things -- unspeakable things -- to her right now. The fact that they had already touched her the way they did, and broken her . . . enraged Bellamy. It made him feel sick to his stomach and caused his blood to boil knowing what they put her through. To the point where she no longer recognized him in the moment. Bellamy's attention turned to the Grounder as he began to speak.

He was giving Bellamy a choice. One that would liberate him and two of his companions. Two. Not three. Bellamy didn't fail to notice the sudden reduction number. The Grounders assured him that the girl would be one of them -- considering she was already poisoned and thus, dying. But that he had to choose between the other two: Jasper and Finn. How the hell did Bellamy make that kind of choice? He couldn't. So he said the only words that he could right now.

"Take me instead." Kill him; let him kill himself. The Grounder leader mockingly laughed and told him that if he didn't kill one of them, that all of them would die. If Bellamy tried anything on himself, then all of them would die. Bellamy's eyes narrowed at the man, though he felt his entire body fill with fear and dread. He had only three more words to offer. "You sick bastard." With that, they kept him restrained, and the Grounder commanded his guards to bring up the three prisoners. Bellamy had to think fast. He needed to find a way out of this; a way to avoid any of this from happening.

[Clarke Griffin]

The peace in the cell did not take long. She wanted him back, but as soon as she spied the grounders, Clarke moved away from the bars, trying to avoid being seen. It made no difference. They grabbed her, not giving her a chance to even consider escaping. She could have tried to bolt, but one grounder stood in the door, holding an all too familiar blade, which almost made her freeze in fear. Clarke thought she might be all out of tears, but the events proved her wrong. She was far from out of tears, she could still cry as they dragged her up. No amount of struggling helped. They just threw her against a wall and punched her again to make her stop. New threats to repeat what they had done to her earlier. Now that did the trick for her. She let them drag her away, moving her legs sluggishly to keep up at least a bit of resistance, even though it was half hearted.

They were brought into a hall she didn’t know. But she knew the man, the leader of the grounders. For a moment her efforts to get away were renewed just upon seeing the leader. Fear was evident in her eyes. What did they want? Did they lie to her? But then she saw Bellamy. He was alive. They didn’t kill him yet. Nor their friends. They brought them in, too.

To her surprise they tied them to two posts in the middle of the room, while they kept her, still held by two Grounders in a corner. What was going on? As they explained, Clarke knew she was going pale. How could they do that? How could they ask Bellamy to kill one of their friends just to ensure the other two would get free. And what about him? What about Bellamy? “If you free us, free him, too!! Keep me. Let him go free. Please. Do whatever you want to me then. Let them go, please.” She knew it would mean more torture for her until the poison killed her, but if Bellamy and one of their friends walked free, then so be it. 

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy watched helplessly as they tied his two friends. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be an alternative option. He turned his head as he watched them practically drag Clarke in. Was it just him or did she look even worse? Just seeing the Grounders hands on her made his blood boil. His mind inevitably filled with images of what they had done; how they had violated her and would have done so just to . . . what, enforce their power over her? It was sickening. Bellamy remained silent as the Grounder explained things, and soon enough, Clarke did what Bellamy imagined she would.

It was after all what he had attempted to do: exchange their own life for the others. "That's not happening," he stated as he looked at her. His tone made it evident that the subject was not up for debate. While he and Clarke were co-leaders, this was not a topic that he would let her decide upon. If anyone out of the four of them needed to get out of here, it was Clarke more than anyone else. He didn't know what to do though. How could he decide to kill someone, when both of them were his friends?

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, trying to withhold the defeated tone from his voice. "This doesn't solve anything." If they were trying to find a way to destroy him, Clarke and the others -- in a way beyond death -- then this was indeed the way to do it. He stared at both males before looking back to Clarke, as if trying to silently ask her what he should do. What could they do to get through this? He feared that if he tried anything against their wishes, they would take it out on Clarke . . . and he couldn't bare to be the reason she endured anything else.

[Clarke Griffin]

“Like hell!” She wasn’t about to argue with Bellamy. If the Grounders would accept this exchange, it was going to happen, if he wanted it to or not. But it seemed like they refused to let it happen to begin with. They just laughed at the idea of this exchange, even though it literally meant they could do whatever the hell they wanted with her. Maybe they didn’t want that anymore, because they already had their fun. She was damaged goods and she’d die either way, if it was from them continuing to mistreat her or from the poison, what difference did it make to them? But their friends could leave maybe. Clarke felt the hands on her tighten again, turning her to Bellamy. A grounder bellowed to him to make his choice and move, if he wanted freedom for his friends. She didn’t know what he should do, her freedom did not matter anymore as she would die either way.

Clarke didn’t want to look, but she knew she had to. She had to watch when Bellamy made his decision. There was no way around it. If it was only that, she had to try and support him and his decision no matter what. This would not be easy for him or for her. He had to either kill one of their friends and free the other or let them all die. Clarke knew Bellamy would always make a decision to benefit the group. He’d save whoever he could save. One of their friends was about to die at Bellamys hand. If only she could survive this in order to help him and their friend through it. “If he kills one of them, all of us go free.” It was a demand, not a question. She had to try. The Grounder stared at her and slowly nodded. Was this a yes? Would he stay true to this word then? “Bell… your decision. What you think is best.”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Time nor circumstance was on their side. The Grounders held all the cards right now. He could either kill one, or they would all die. Killing himself was not an option. It was between two of their friends. Two of their people. The thought made Bellamy feel sick to his stomach. He breathed out a plea, falling upon deaf ears though he knew it was heard despite his low tone. The Grounder told him he had only a few moments before the offer was off the table. Bellamy's limp arm was raised and a small blade shoved in the palm of his hand.

He knew that using it to kill the Grounder wasn't an option. They were outnumbered . . . and they currently had their claws on Clarke. He couldn't risk it, knowing what they had already done to her. Anything more that happened to her was his fault. Hell, what had already happened to her was his fault. If he had just kept himself calm. Had he not reacted so strongly as he had. They wouldn't have known. But they did. And they'd used that to their advantage.

Time seemed to stand still at the moment, and Bellamy could almost feel the Grounder's impatience. He could hear him urging him to hurry up, the the words sounded like jumbled jargon. They may as well have been speaking in their own tongue for Bellamy didn't understand it anyway. He looked at Jasper, and then at Finn. There was a look in Finn's eyes that caused Bellamy to stare back at him. It was a look of acceptance. A look of welcome. A look of . . . encouragement.

Bellamy's eyes locked on his, not even sure if it was his subconscious causing him to see things that weren't really there. Whatever reality was, it was strong enough to cause Bellamy's feet to move forward toward him. He felt like he was moving underwater, like he had no control of what happened next. He stood directly in front of Finn as the man gave him a nod. Was this real? Or was Bellamy just seeing what he longed for: a way to make this decision acceptable. He couldn't ask Clarke. She had said the choice was his, and he would not put this on her. Just as Bellamy had no control of his feet, he felt even less control of his hand as the one that clutched the blade rose to Finn's neck.

Bellamy wasn't even aware that he breathed out an apology, practically begging for forgiveness from Finn, before the dagger made a clean, deep enough cut across Finn's throat. His death was instant. Merficul. No. Nothing showed mercy from this. Bellamy looked emotionlessly at the corpse, void of life, just as Bellamy felt. The dagger in his hand fell to the ground, now stained with the blood of an Arker. One of his people that he had just murdered in cold blood.

Bellamy's expression was just as cold, as he turned to look at the Grounder. No reaction. No emotion. Just a dead pan look. "Let us go." It was all he could say in this moment. He had done what he had do. Now it was time for them to hold up their end of the bargain. Let Clarke and Jasper go. Let them return to their camp. Yet he knew that what occurred here in this place, would forever leave scars in the memories and haunt them for quite some time.

[Clarke Griffin]

One of her friends would die. Clarke couldn’t help looking at both of them. To her horror she saw Finns look. The way he was looking at Bellamy, told her Finn himself had made a decision and he was trying to tell it to Bellamy, non verbally. If he wouldn’t understand, Clarke had no doubt he would get vocal about it. Finn wanted to be the one to die, to spare Jasper probably. To get them all out of it. She wanted to scream at him. To punch some sense into him, but she couldn’t. Otherwise they’d make Bellamy kill Jasper. Or they might kill them all. This was what they wanted. Clarke had offered herself. She had offered them whatever they wanted to do with her, to inflict more damage and pain to her, before she succumbed to the poison that was clearly in her system. Maybe she was imagining Finns look. But Bellamy approached him, now with a blade in his hand. While she didn’t want to watch, she had to. She knew her helping him would not go down with the Grounders, so she shout up, but she kept praying as soon as she could identify Bellamys intention to cut Finns throat, that he would manage to cut the artery. By what she saw, he did. Clarke watched the blood flow from Finns neck, saw the blood on Bellamys. Right then she wished she could take the burden off of him or live long enough to help him. But her time was running out, she already felt it. She had… three or four days left to live, maybe. Before Clarke could even think about what Bellamy said, pain erupted in her head as the Grounders one by one knocked them out.

The first thing Clarke noticed when she woke was the cold. As she came to she noticed she was still only in her slightly torn underwear. The second thing was how tired she felt. She could just lay there and sleep. Clarke immediately identified it as a symptom of the poison working, so she pushed herself up. They were at the bridge, on their side of it. So not too far from camp. They could make it back. She could see Bellamy and Jasper being reunited with the others and die in peace. Good. The two of them were there, too. Both still out, but Clarke softly shook them, now noticing how heavy her breathing was, as if just shaking them awake was an enormous task to her. 

“Wake up. We have to …. Go.”

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy was pulled from consciousness when he felt someone slightly shaking him and speaking to him. He let out a quiet groan as he slowly opened his eyes, jolting in a seated upright position. The abrupt action made him all too aware as to how heavy his head felt, but he pushed aside the pain to try and orientate himself and think back to recent events. It wasn't too difficult, for they were forever burned in his mind. He had murdered Finn. After torturing them for as long as they did, it came down to Bellamy murdering one of their people. He looked at Clarke, her state of undress reminding him of the kind of torture she had been subject to.

He rose to his feet, looking down at the still unconscious Jasper before looking back at Clarke. She didn't look well, and it took him only a few seconds to realize the reason as to why. The poison. They had poisoned her. They had to go back to the camp. He needed Lincoln to get the antitode for whatever they had forced her to drink. But first things first. He pulled off his shirt and handed it to her. Better that he be in such a state rather than her.

All of their clothes were hardly in good condition, but it was something at least. When Jasper finally seemed to awake, Bellamy could barley look at either of them, ashamed of what he had done to one of their own. He had slit Finn's throat. The youner male had been tied, and Bellamy had . . . killed him. Murdered him, just like that. "Come on," he urged, already walking back to the camp, ensuring the others were not far. Right now, he needed to focus on getting that antidote. He refused to let the Grounders take away anyone else . . . especially Clarke.

[Clarke Griffin]

Clarke felt slow. She could hardly follow his movements, though not because he was too fast, but because her mind was either still feeling the aftermath of being knocked out or it was the poison. Either way it took her a moment to realize why he was suddenly without shirt – showing of the multiple wounds on him. He was giving her his shirt. Only then did the awareness really settle in her that she was just in her underwear still. Jasper and Bellamy had been clothed. The blonde turned the shirt over, to put it on. For a moment her eyes rested on the blood, his, some probably hers from when he held her, some Finn. Like on their bodies, his shirt was a map of what they had endured. Due to their size difference his shirt covered down to her thighs. The almost artistic burns and cuts were still visible on her arms and legs.

They walked in silence, each lost to their own thoughts. Clarke knew she had to speak to Bellamy. She had to try and take a bit of his guilt from him. He did what he had to do. Finn knew that. They all knew it. Had he not done it, they would have all died. He saved their lives. Finn was dead either way. But for now they just needed to get back home. The gate opened immediately as the people saw them. They were ushered inside. Clarke only saw a flash, which she could assume was Octavia rushing to her brother. Meanwhile she refused hugs, ducked away from under them to make her way to the dropship. Someone stopped her once inside. Maybe Raven, she couldn’t tell. They commented on her running a fever, but she didn’t care. She kept walking to their medical supplies, preparing what she needed to take care of Bellamys and Jaspers wounds. She was dead anyway. She felt them trying to stop her, to make her sit, heard others saying she needed this care as well, because she was wounded as well, but Clarke just shook her head. 

“Just bring … just bring Bellamy here, okay? Just let me take care of his wounds.” They needed someone to lead them and that was him. Clarke couldn’t do it any longer, but he could. And he had to. And they would know he would do whatever it took to protect them. And she would make sure his wounds didn’t get infected. Clarke was almost ready with the tea as she felt the world around her spin. She had to sit. But before she even sat she saw grounders run towards her. Clarke screamed in terror, not realizing it was just a hallucination. 

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Almost immediately upon entering the gate, Bellamy felt his sister's arms around him. He lacked the mental strength to return the embrace. He didn't deserve it. He had once called himself a monster, hoping he could somehow redeem himself. But it was too late. There was no coming back from this. He could somehow make out that she was asking him what happened, whether he was ok. Bellamy gave a half assed answer, saying he was fine. He didn't care what marks on his face and body betrayed his words.

He didn't care about that. Any pain he would have felt was numbed by what he had done. And what made it worse . . . was that he couldn't regret it, because it had in turn saved Clarke and Jasper. It only made him feel more sick; most disgusted with himself. Seeing Lincoln therre, he quickly told him to bring any antidoates he had to poison, and with that, broke free from his sister's hold and hurriedly went to his tent. He wasn't sure how he was functioning. Perhaps it was the singular thought of Clarke being poisoned. He left Jasper with the crowd, knowing that he would allow them to help him.

Bellamy reached for one of his shirts and pulled it over his head. He then went to Clarke's tent, quickly grabbing a pair of pants and shirt of hers. Putting them over his shoulder, he turned to leave when someone came in to say that Clarke was looking for him, and that she was running a fever. Bellamy promptly filled a small bowl of water and grabbed a cloth. He made his way to the drop ship, near enough to suddenly hear her scream. He nearly dropped the bowl, as he pushed himself inside to see what had happened.

He looked at the direction she had, but saw nothing there. Setting down the bowl and cloth, Bellamy rushed toward Clarke. "Hey, hey, it's me, Bellamy. It's alright, Clarke," he told her putting his hands on either side of her shoulder and forcing her to look at him. Last he had tried in the cell, she had pushed him away . . . understandably so. "Look at me," he said in a low voice, looking intently into her eyes. "You're safe." As safe as could be. He'd feel a lot better saying that once they got the antidote to whatever poison she was given. Right now, he just focused on calming her down, feeling his heart ache for all she had gone and was still going through.

[Clarke Griffin]

One of the Grounders came to her, to grab her again. Anticipating what would happen, Clarke tried to push him off weakly. But as she pushed at his chest the face changed, revealing Bellamy, not a Grounder. She heard his voice, confirming what she saw. It was Bellamy. Clarke looked around, trying to see the Grounders, but they were in the dropship. There were no Grounders here. It was just their people, just them. What she saw wasn’t real. It made sense to her then. She had been poisoned. It must be a symptom. Hallucinations. “Bellamy…. I hallucinated, right?” there was no other explanation. She was safe for now, but this poison would kill her. It was just a matter of time.

“You… you need to have your wounds cleaned, Bellamy. They need you. They can’t lose both of us.” And that meant they would have to take care of him. Despite how much she was shaking, how weak she felt she tried to get to the prepared tea to clean his wound. But she stopped, feeling like she could no longer go on. This task, that was once so very easy to her was now next to impossible. She was really dying and there was nothing she could do to take the guilt from him as she wouldn’t live long enough. Instinctively she reached for his hand, trying to steady herself on him.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She asked if she had hallucinated, and he wished he had a better answer to give. The Grounders had granted them freedom, but how free were they actually. Clarke was still poisoned. "Yeah," he answered quietly. "There's no one else here." He didn't know if that would alarm her further or bring her any comfort. He wanted her to know that she wasn't in danger. Well, there was no physical threat. The threat was with what had been forcefully ingested in her. She then told hm that his wounds needed to be clean; that they weren't going to loes both of them. "They aren't going to lose either of us," he said stubbornly. Like hell he'd let her die. "Lincoln is getting the antidote." The man carried a pouch filled with vials, surely one of them had the cure for whatever the Grounders had given Clarke.

He could see how much she was shaking, how weak she looked. He had been told that she had a fever, and she was already hallucinating. This poison was acting quickly. Maybe the timeline was completely off after all. Maybe the lack of food and water caused the poison to act faster. There were so many variables, and it only made Bellamy more fearful of what this could lead to, though he kept it within him. It wouldn't do any good for him to express his fear right now.

"Stop it, Clarke," he told her, a strong authority in his voice that was telling her to stop trying to do anything to tend to him. He moved her so that she was seated, her back against the wall as he looked at the wounds on her body. In her state of undress, he could clean her off before she changed into the clothes he'd brought from her tent. He dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and very carefully started to wipe her face. His jaw clenched at the marks over her; evidence of what they had done to her. It was deeper than the surface and his blood boiled at the memories, knowing that they had done even more than what he'd witnessed.

[Clarke Griffin]

As much as Clarke trusted Lincoln, there was a problem with it: What if he didn’t have the antidote? What if he couldn’t find it? He would have to go by the symptoms, but what if they weren’t as telling as Bellamy thought they might be. What if there was more than one poison capable of similar symptoms? What if Lincoln could not save her? What if there was no hope and he was clinging to it regardless? He might need it, the feeling of being able to help at least her. And maybe that was also the reason why he wanted her to stop cleaning his wounds. He might just need to be active after what he had been through. If that was the way he wanted to cope, who was she to stop him? She might die. So in the end she ceased trying to clean his wounds and let him take action. 

Clarke whimpered slightly once he started to wipe at her face. She could see the concentration in his face as he worked on cleaning her wounds. It might not matter soon. The moment he had to wring out the cloth again, Clarke pulled his shirt over her head so he could access the rest of her body – apart from the intimate areas – easily. She felt safe, knew she was safe with him, so she let him. “Can you… stay with me, Bellamy?” She whispered as he continued. “Please. We don’t know what will happen with the poison and… I don’t want to be alone.” She did not want to suffer, but she knew she would. There were not many people, who she could be around, who she wanted to be around. Bellamy was topping the list right now. “Will you let Octavia look at your wounds later? They need cleaning, too.” But she was currently probably worrying about Lincolns fast return.

Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

When she moved to pull off her shirt, Bellamy moved the cloth from her skin only for a moment, assisting her where she may need it. He took the shirt and set it aside, dipping the cloth in the water, squeezing it and then returning to gently wiping her face. Her question was the very definition of a no brainer, for he didn't need to even consider or think twice about his answer. "I have no intention of leaving you," he stated, as if it was mere fact. No reluctance or uncertainty in his voice. He was not leaving her, that was all there was to it. "You aren't going to be alone. I'm here. I'll always be here for you." He hadn't been though, not when the Grounders had her. Not when they assaulted her. It was revolting what they had done, and almost done. And Bellamy had only made it worse by reacting the way he had.

"And let me tell you whats going to happen. Lincoln will get the antidote. You're going to be ok." Physically anyway. Mentally, psychologically . . . that was a whole other situation. But he stood by his words. She wasn't going to be alone during that either. One her face was cleaned as best as he could do it, he proceeded to move the cloth over her nearly bare shoulders and arms, his eyes moving over her skin intently so that he could take mental note of every wound on her body.

So that he would know where she was physically hurt. He hated not being able to stop the poison coursing through her right now. But at least with this injuries, he could do something about it. "Clarke, do me a favor and just focus on yourself right now." He didn't want her worrying about him. He would live. His wounds were not life threatening. "I need you to focus on you right now," he added in a low voice. He needed her to fight, just as she always did. And be strong, just as she always was.