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“Not walls. I might have almost punched Miller.” But she didn’t. Or was it Monty? Or both. He’d feel bad if she told him exactly how crazy she had gone out there, but she wasn’t exactly thinking straight. Bellamy had been the only thing holding her to the ground, but without him the dreams, the fears had been rapidly catching up with her. Even worse all concentrated in the fear for him, rendering her so terribly helpless. She felt like she couldn’t move in fear, but of course logically she had been able to move, her soul, that was another story entirely. Clarke was aware that with every lost life, she lost part of herself as well. He had held her together, hat made sure she wouldn’t shatter on the spot. Her initial reaction to protect herself had been abandoned for him. 

“They did nail it. The dose they gave you would have just made you sleepy, unable to move, cough up blood once in a while had you been fully rested and healthy. But like that – it almost killed you.” She had spent so much time watching his vital, seeing them get worse and worse and praying for Lincoln and Octavia to hurry the fuck up. Since she had come Clarke felt lighter, but she still felt unsettled, slightly unhinged as well.

This was the reason why she didn’t exactly know what she hoped for. Had she wanted him to remember him professing his love for her or not? She felt disappointment and relief at the same time – loving her sure felt like a curse these days. Maybe it was better if he didn’t remember it. Maybe she should keep it that way. Dead followed her like a shadow. 

“Just, well, you were in a coma, Bellamy. I just wanted to know if there was a gap in your memory. Just wanted to check if you’re okay."

Bellamy Blake

He was breaking free. Clarke noticed that as she was breaking out herself, ready to knock out whoever was attacking him. Not that that was necessary. Bellamy had already done it. The blonde pulled her arm close, not caring about the white shirt being drenched in blood through this. It was deep, but Clarke knew it hit nothing major. It was bleeding, quite a lot right now, due to the depths, but the blood flow was easily stopped with just a bandage. 

“I’m fine. You?” She looked up to find him move away to get a piece of the mans shirt. It was obvious to her what he needed that for and what he wanted with it, so she held her arm out to him, allowing to tie the bandage around it tightly, but not too tightly. Had she not seen him with his sister, she would have been surprised at how… easily he seemed to be able to determine the appropriate amount of pressure. Clark then looked him up and down. He was barefoot as well, wore only a white shirt and white pants like her. It was kind of odd to see him in bright colors. While they didn’t look bad on him, dark was his color, for whatever reason. Clarke nodded, following his lead, but continuously looking behind them as well, to see if there was maybe a threat coming from behind them.

“We’re in Mount Weather, Bellamy. This is a huge bunker. Our friends could be anywhere. We… need someone to bring us to them.”

Bellamy Blake

Princess, like that was a new one. She had heard it before, countless time, even in the way he meant it, as an attack. From then to now there was a difference, though. Everyone else, every single one of them, who used it as a perceived insult to her before, had moved on from there, as she proved she was more than what their initial prejudices suggested, accepting her not only as one of their own, but as someone who, born privileged, did not care about the status of someones birth at all. And whining? Was he mistaking her with himself? The only one who ever made a show of whining in the camp, even back at the dropship was Jasper himself. Oh, boohoo, someone wouldn’t talk to him because he was being a giant prick and he would start to whine. Clarkes hand itched to take it out of him, but that would only result in exactly that: Whining, whimpering and running to ‘mommy’ to complain, as he maybe thought he could fight his own battles, but he couldn’t, not really. Had he ever bothered to help anyone in this camp over their trauma? Knowing him: No.

And then he just dared to compare his friendship to what she felt for Finn once. But of course, she was only a girl, wasn’t she? At least in his mind girls were only there for one thing and sadly for him, luckily for her, she did not fall into his perception of what girls do. She’d not crawl and beg for his forgiveness and give him gratification for being a misbehaving brat. Not anymore. She’s been through too much to even consider catering to his needs. What was he anyway? 

“I don’t need your forgiveness, Jasper. I don’t care for your forgiveness. I didn’t ask for it. It’s not yours to give.” It was just as simple as that. Clarke didn’t even turn around to look at him. Forgiveness was given by someone she wronged. As it was, she hadn’t wronged him. She saved his life. It was not his place to give her forgiveness as he had nothing to logically forgive her for. It was just his way of thinking, a toxic way. He was pathetic. A pathetic excuse for a man, a waste of carbon. And yet his words struck, not because they came from him, but because they fueled the voiced circling in her head, those whose opinions mattered, whose opinions were valid unlike his. Clarke looked at her hands then. To her horror she saw the blood on them. Pretty princess, my ass. What she was, was something else entirely. And she could never wash the blood of her hands. She saw it, even though she knew it wasn’t there and she longed to wash it off, to scrub her hands until they were clean. 

“You’re pathetic, Jasper. Grow up and become a man. Because next time: I’ll let you rot.” Clarkes tone was cold and calculated. What did it matter? One day his blood would be on her hands as well and right now she’ll gladly leave it there. No, she’d gladly put it there, right now. “Next time I might even do it myself.” The blonde strode towards where she knew the water that they used to wash things were, needing to scrub her hands as she felt her body shake with the feelings she knew to suppress in the presence of people like Jasper Jordan.

This world would kill him soon enough, for good this time. The only reason he was still alive was because others saved him, but did he feel gratitude? No, he felt entitlement. And people like Bellamy, Monty, Miller and her had to pay the price, because he felt his little feelings mattered the most in this world. They didn’t matter at all. What mattered for her was to protect her people – by now excluding Jasper – and to help them heal whatever the price was for her – again excluding Gogglesboy. Once at the bassinet Clarke began with her task of washing her hands.

becky1

They were engaged. Now that sounded more than surreal, yet it was reality. They were engaged. They had plans to get married, in as much secret as they could afford. Clarke wondered how they would do it. Kane was the obvious choice to marry them. He could keep a secret, he was one of the few who might need to know of their union. And there was no way they could leave Octavia out of it. The siblings were close. Octavia needed to know and she could keep her mouth shut, Clarke knew as much, even if she might not be … her biggest fan. The question was: Should they tell her mother? Her mother was much more likely to tell. But she couldn’t leave her out of it. It was her mother. 

“Yeah. And to your sister and my mother? I can only guess Octavia would hold it against us for a very long time if she wouldn’t get to be there.” A very, very long time. Besides, it was better if she knew. Clarke moved her position, whimpering a bit at the loss of their connection as she lay next to him, her head remaining in his chest, one leg still thrown over his protectively and slightly possessively. “What do you think she’ll say?”

Bellamy Blake

It was cold. When her bare feet touched the floor for the first time, Clarke felt it, shocked. It reminded her of the Ark, where the ventilation would make every surface cold to the touch. It seemed similar here. Wherever here was. Everything seemed white, sterile even. It made no sense. Clarke remembered the weird pink gas, but she didn’t remember being hooked up to an IV or being brought here or even just getting changed. The blonde looked around the room in confusion, but it was the door that attracted her the most. It had a window. She could look outside, try and find clues as to what was going on. But then she noticed a flash of dark locks. Hope rushed through her, prompting her to run to the door. Bellamy! She was right. That WAS Bellamy. Clarke knocked on the door. She called out, but at first nothing seemed to register with him. The doors were soundproof. Was he locked up as well?

Just as she was giving up on calling him she saw a sign. ‘Mount Weather Quarantine Ward’. They were in Mount Weather? As she stared at the sign, her gut telling her that this could not be good, someone walked towards where they kept Bellamy. They reached for the door. They wanted to get him, she realized! Clarke couldn’t let that happen. A quick look around gave her one option: The IV stand. She grabbed it. At first Clarke smashed the camera with it, before she used what power she had to smash the window in the door. Reaching outside – and cutting her arm open in the process – she managed to unlock the door. 

“Bellamy!”

Clarke remained by Bellamys side throughout the night and the entire day, refusing to let her body have, what it so desperately craved: Sleep. She ate and drank, made sure the IV he had been hooked up was still secure and checked on his vitals, which were getting worse by the hour. Clarke just couldn’t move. She whispered sweet words of encouragement to him, but steered clear of voicing how deep her feelings went. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t make herself admit it to herself. What if he didn’t make it? She’d not survive it. She needed him if she was to stay here. Her demons would slay her, she was sure of it. Without him there was no point of her staying alive. 

The next day Octavia and Lincoln returned with the antidote. Her mother and Jackson immediately prepared it. Whoever did this to Bellamy hadn’t come forth yet, but Clarke heard from her mother that Kane had started questioning the kids to find out who the culprit was – if he was among them. Once the antidote was given to him, both Lincoln and Octavia insisted on her going to the next room to catch some sleep. They’d wake her, which was the only reason why she gave in. The two of them really woke her when Lincoln got Octavia to go and rest. Once she was settled in the armchair again she noticed with a smile that Bellamys vitals seemed to have gotten stronger. Was he actually pulling through? Faint hope blossomed in her. He could make it and she’d be there for him every step of the way. 

After a while – Clarke didn’t look at the time, she felt and saw him move. A good sign. He was probably no longer in a coma, technically, but just sleeping. Sleep she preferred. Clarke kept watching him until he opened his eyes. He was clearly still disoriented and weak, but he recognized her. The blonde leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

“Yes, I’m here, Bellamy. Just a second.” She was not leaving the room, but kicking against a wall, knowing that the other room was where Octavia and Lincoln were. Sure enough the two basically ran in to his side. She stayed back, watching the relieved sister and her brother, while she felt her heart ache and her eyes fill with tears. He was alive! He actually made it.

Bellamy Blake