I know I have other projects pending, but this show has pulled me in and this couple… has just overwhelmed me. I haven't seen pure chemistry like this since Logan and Veronica. And there are only 7 episodes of the show so far! I had to write something for these two.

This is AU-ish. Hope the Bellarke shippers like this.

PART I.

Bellamy hated being a guard. Well, technically he wasn't a guard but a cadet. Yet, the process was not only boring but irritating. Most of the guards were self-serving pricks with their own agendas to follow. The saddest part was most guards were from Walden and Arcadia, young men who sold their souls to have some authority in a world where the rich were worth everything and ended up abusing that power to hurt their own people. Bellamy was sickened by these guards and he would have thrown his gun and badge at various assholes if it weren't for one thing: his sister.

Octavia was already sixteen and in need of more than a two person ration household could afford. Their mother was always sewing, forgoing sleep for the work that would bring in extra bucks here and there. It wasn't enough, of course, and Bellamy felt nauseous thinking about what else his mother did to help them get by, what she'd had to do to get him the guard opportunity…

Bellamy shook these thoughts away as he approached the Commander's office. He had been directed to the office as soon as he arrived at the guard station and the veiled, paranoid part of him worried that the act was over and they'd found Octavia.

"Blake?" Commander Quincy didn't look up from paperwork on his desk and Bellamy cleared his throat.

"That's me, sir."

"Just a cadet, huh?"

"Yes, sir. Started last month."

"Hmm."

Bellamy watched the older man rifle through folders, ignoring him though he'd been sent there for a reason.

"Is there something I need to do, Commander?" Bellamy kept his voice even, making sure no disdain or impatience colored his words.

"Yes, yes." Commander Quincy stopped at one manila folder and opened it on his desk, analyzing the contents and nodding. "Your assignment."

Bellamy stepped closer to the commander's desk and took the folder into his hands.

"Clarke Griffin. Age 17. Confined 7/12." He looked at his superior officer, confused.

"That is your assignment, cadet."

"A Confined teenager?"

"A girl with mental episodes and a tendency for uninhibited violence. I need someone who's strong enough to deal with a girl like this for the months that remain before her execution."

"Don't you mean her trial?"

The Confined had time before their eighteen birthdays to prepare for the trial that would determine if they deserved a pardon or an execution/ floating.

"No, I mean her execution. Do you know how many delinquents we carry in this ship? Too many, cadet. Some are not worth the hassle. This girl is one of them. All you need to do is give her the daily meals and essentials she's entitled to before judgment day. She's a testy prisoner, but she is just that. A prisoner. We uphold the law and you will make sure she understands that. She isn't a Phoenix privileged anymore. Do you understand your assignment, Blake?"

Bellamy was staring at Clarke Griffin's photo, his brow furrowed. This girl was still so young- only a year older than Octavia- and her fate was already sealed. The Ark already counted her as dead. What had she done to gain so much disregard for her life? Who was this beautiful criminal?

"Blake." The commander's voice was firm.

"I understand, sir." He shut the folder with one hand, but the image of the girl was still behind his eyelids.

Clarke had punched the wall, instantly bruising all the knuckled on her right hand, but she didn't care. As castigation for the last incident with the guard, Commander Quincy had personally come to yell at her and take all the art supplies she'd collected to pass her Confined days away. Her drawings were all she had to keep her sane.

In the first weeks of her confinement she had thought of her father and mother and Wells and the life she'd once had, but those memories were more bitter than sweet and she began compartmentalizing for her own good. The guards who fed her and gave her the supplies to live were cruel, taunting her and leering at her, making the experience humiliating and horrible for Clarke.

Clarke's mother had done her best to provide her daughter some luxuries, like extra water rations and the occasional sketchbook or chalk. Clarke appreciated this, though she hadn't been able to see her mother since her confinement. Wherever the councilor was, he was still angry at Clarke and her father, choosing to forget all about the man who'd been one of his closest friends and the girl who was his son's only best friend.

Wells. Another sore subject for Clarke. She'd grown up alongside him, both fortunate enough to be part of Phoenix with parents in the council. The past year had turned Clarke's world upside down. She'd lost her father, been estranged from her mother and friends, and discovered her best friend was responsible for her father's floating. It was too much for a teenaged girl to take in, even one as mature as Clarke.

He'd tried to visit her once (Clarke wondered what strings he'd pulled to achieve that) but Clarke had screamed and clawed at him until Wells left with angry red welts on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks. She had sobbed herself to sleep that night but regret did not come. Wells got her father killed and when she'd tried to continue her father's work, she was Confined and charged for treason.

Being Confined was the ultimate restriction. The Ark was limited, but seeing four grey walls ever day did something to a person. That was why when one guard took the insults too far and began degrading her father's character, Clarke had snapped. She had kept things inside her for a long time, hadn't even mourned her father properly, and she'd had enough. She jumped off her bed, grabbed the guard by the back of his uniform and slammed him mercilessly against the metal door until he fell unconscious to the floor, blood spewing from his mouth and nose. Other guards came running in, pushing her to the wall and shouting all sorts of things at her but she didn't care.

That was last week and since then Clarke was given her allotted food by the commander himself, who would glower at her and throw the food at her feet. He had taken her art supplies and basically laughed in her face. That day she sensed a change coming because it was mid-afternoon at least and she hadn't been fed once. The commander must have gotten tired of the grunt work and was assigning another guard to take care of her. She could have laughed at the trouble she'd become, but she still remembered being the "good girl" and "golden child" of the Ark and it made her upset to think that now she was worthless to those who had loved her years before.

The door of her cell was suddenly pushed open and Clarke looked up from her casual seat on the floor to observe the new guard. He was younger than the others but his face was still wearied, as if he'd experienced true tragedy in his young life. She was sure she looked the same.

"Clarke Griffin." He said gruffly and she tilted her head.

"Sounds like you know me."

"I read your file."

"Ah, I wonder what lies they've put in there."

The guard's deep brown eyes flickered with something she couldn't decipher.

"I brought you a meal."

"I can see that." Her blue eyes went to the tray in his hands and the soggy looking bread and meat sitting on it. "No dessert?"

The guard's lips quirked.

"Sorry, Princess, you don't get any."

"Princess?"

The guard's eyes widened for a split second, as if realizing he'd slipped and interacted too closely with the prisoner he was supposed to be on high alert with.

"I kind of like it. It's refreshing being called something other than 'traitorous bitch'."

The guard smirked.

"You're not what I expected."

"If you were basing your expectations on the commander's file on me, you are thoroughly screwed."

"I can see that. Commander Quincy is a dick, though, I don't trust him or his files."

This time it was Clarke whose eyes widened in surprise.

"What kind of guard are you if you don't worship Quincy?"

"Not a guard. A reluctant cadet with nowhere else to go."

"What's your name, cadet?"

"Bellamy Blake."

"I think we're going to get along, Bellamy Blake."

Bellamy chuckled.

"And I think you're going to get me in trouble, Clarke Griffin."

"Done! Ta-da." Clarke made a flourish with her paint-streaked hand and moved so Bellamy could see the painting she'd been working on for days.

"Shit, Clarke, that's amazing." Bellamy's jaw dropped at the vivid detail of the painting.

Clarke had made him cover his eyes before entering her cell with her daily food rations and small toiletries, teasing that the painting could hang next to DaVinci's if any museums existed. And he had to admit she was right.

Clarke had outlined the solar system of the galaxy with lines for space and outlying planets. The center of the painting was the Earth seen from the windows of the Ark. The planet was shaded in different blues and greens with white mixed in to create an ethereal glow.

"Really? You like it?" her azure eyes were hesitant.

"Absolutely. I've never seen anyone as talented as you." Bellamy turned from the painting to the girl herself.

"Thanks, Bell." She grinned.

"No problem, Princess." His smile was so warm and his eyes, trained only on her, were the color of melting chocolate, so easy to get lost in.

She felt herself gravitating closer to him until her chest was pressed against his and she felt his breath on her face. Her eyes closed as their lips touched and Clarke swore stars exploded from the chaste contact. He pulled away first, stroking her blonde locks gently and giving her that beautiful smile she'd fallen in love with in two short months.

"Bellamy…"

"Shh. You don't have to say anything right now. We have time." He kissed her again and though Clarke wanted to get lost in his kiss, his last statement had reminded her of an undeniable truth fast approaching.

She pushed him away but kept her hands around his neck.

"Bell, we don't have time. You know that my 18th birthday is next month and that my trial will be that day. A trial that ends in-

"Don't say it." Bellamy's voice was hard and Clarke sighed, stroking his face to soften his features.

"A trial that ends in certain death."

Bellamy's jaw clenched.

"I won't lose you, Clarke."

"Just promise you won't forget about me."

"I would never." He swore and she kissed him deeply, breathing in his scent like it was the oxygen Earth's surviving humans so desperately needed.

"You have to go." She reminded him.

"Ten more minutes. Or maybe fifteen." He ran his hands down her back, intent on taking her lips in his again but Clarke stepped out of his grip.

"You can't, Bell. The viewing party is tonight. You wanted to take Octavia, remember? It's her only chance at a fun night and she deserves it."

Bellamy had almost forgotten about that. He had meant to take Octavia to the masquerade viewing party so she could interact with people who weren't him and their mother, but this moment with Clarke had removed all rational thought from his brain. God, he loved her. More than he thought he could love someone who wasn't his family. He'd known her two months and it felt like he'd known her two lifetimes. He couldn't imagine life without her and the impending trial was eating away at him. He'd started having plaguing nightmares where he watched Clarke from behind a screen as Commander Quincy laughed and pressed the button that sent his love screaming through space.

Bellamy was not someone who took things lying down and the same way he knew Octavia was his responsibility, he knew he loved Clarke more than his own life and would stop at nothing to save her. He hadn't figured out how to do it, but he still had hope.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Same time."

"I know, silly. You always come back." Clarke rolled her eyes playfully and laughed.

"Are you saying you're getting tired of me?"

"Yep. Your presence is quite suffocating at this point." Clarke deadpanned and he pulled her into his chest, pressing kisses down her neck and around her pink lips until she was gasping for breath.

"Suffocating, huh?"

"Yes." She moaned in between her retort. "I'm requesting a new guard."

"Uh-huh." He gave her a final kiss on the lips before stepping away from her intoxicating body.

"Make sure Octavia has a good time. Viewing parties come seldom but they're worth the wait."

"The best things are."

Clarke blushed but held his fixed gaze.

"Good night, Princess."

"Good night, Bellamy."

Bellamy shut the cell door behind him, making his way to his apartment to give Octavia the news. He couldn't wait to see her reaction, the way her eyes would light up and she'd laugh that bright, tinkling sound she reserved for those brief moments of true joy.

Bellamy then thought of Clarke, always anxious to get back to her, and imagined what it would be like to live at peace with his family and his Clarke, away from the Ark, the Council, and Commander Douchebag.

Bellamy had no idea what that night would lead to. He had no idea Octavia would be Confined, his mother would be floated, and he would be demoted from guard to janitor. He had no idea he wouldn't see Clarke again for many days. And he could never have guessed the next time he'd see the girl he loved and his sister would be on a crazy attempt at discovery and exploration.

Bellamy wouldn't find himself again until he arrived on Earth.