Chapter 1:

Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion as the sound of his snoring brought her back from a light slumber. She gritted her teeth in annoyance, sighing heavily before she let her arm fall to the side of the bed. Her fingers moved across the metal floor until she felt the familiar polyester cotton blend of the black shirt she borrowed from Octavia.

"Fuck princess, you're so damn sexy…" Her mind ran through every groan, every grunt, every dirty statement that escaped Bellamy's mouth three hours ago. He was extremely vocal in his desires, advances, and actions when it came to their sexual relationship. Her eyes dragged across his tan skin, taking in the scars and damage from their time on Earth. Had it really only been three months? Two since the 47 were freed—where was the time going? How long had they been casually hooking up?

She pressed her teeth down on her swollen red lips, feeling hazy and sore. "Where are you going?" She did not like hearing him ask the question—his signature question, really. He moved his arm slowly across the bed, grabbing her wrist and gently pulling her back down to the mattress. She rested her head on his bare chest for a moment, tempted to fall asleep. "Where do you go?" His voice was low as a finger twirled through her hair.

No response.

"You don't talk to me anymore." He huffed, sliding his finger up towards her scalp—massaging her with his fingertips.

"I didn't realize sex required talking." She nearly moaned at the sensation. "I really must go."

"And if I asked you to stay?"

She sighed, "I really have to go, Bellamy."

"Dammit, Clarke."

-100-

The sing-song melody of bird flying around her caused her to stop in her steps; the crunching of leaves ceasing. Her blue eyes surveyed the fluttering of wings, the anthem captivating her for mere seconds before she returned to reaching her desired destination. It was a four hour walk but one she did every two weeks, claiming she was going hunting but always returning empty handed. She yawned as she reached the river, her face turning upwards. Her eyes traveled along the abandoned, ragged sign reading the name of the place she'd been four times. "Watermelon Park"

It used to be a camp ground but it was overgrown and neglected over the last 97 years. She knew that she was in Berryville because of the fading map in her back pocket. She did not know why Berryville was the chosen location. "You made it." She heard a familiar voice greet her and she tried to contain a smile but she could not.

"Yes." Clarke said, extending her hand out to her former equivalent. "Lexa, it's good to see you."

Lexa's dark smirk graced her face, "So, I assume you have information for me?"

It started the day the 47 were returned and the Ark declared they no longer needed the grounders but wished to remain "peaceful"—Clarke and Lexa seemed to look right through their motives and into their greedy schemes. The Ark believed they could take advantage of the grounders much like the Mountain Men. Their Darwinism-soaked minds flew into overdrive as they prepared for battle, trained soldiers, and planned a full-scale attack to acquire land and labor. Clarke did not like the fact that they were using the word "labor" as a euphemism for slavery.

Clarke battled beside Lexa too many times to betray her. Her people could assimilate into the Ark all they wanted. They could be bossed around, treated like children, forced to take the unwanted jobs, accept the fact that they were being degraded every single day… not her. She hoped for a rebellion, planted seeds in Watermelon Park and prayed for rebellion even if she lacked a religious bone in her body. She waited for rebellion. And once the revolution started and her people, along with whoever chose not to live under the Exodus Charter, would need alliances and resources to survive. They would need land and protection until they could survive on their own and co-exist with the grounders.

She would call it preparation for the inevitable. Her mother would call it treason.

But she'd been accused of treason before and she was aware that the people of the Ark had a funny definition for treason. When they accuse someone of treason, it's because that person is trying to fight for what they believe in—such as saving innocent lives, protecting their loved-ones, and trying to defend natural rights.

If she was a traitor, so be it. She wasn't about to let her friend fight an unnecessary war when so many of her people were recovering from the mountain still. "Training is continuing, my informant says that Kane is getting antsy. He wants a war and he wants it now. He wants to exert his dominance and prove that they have a right to this land. All of it."

Lexa sighed, her voice rough and cold as she processed the information. "People do not learn. Your people are making the same mistakes as people who lived hundreds of years before us."

"My people are not the leaders of Camp Jaha." Clarke corrected her, "My people are the youth. I'm confident that my plan will work, Lexa, I just need time."

"I have given you time and every time we have this meeting, you return with negative results." Lexa was annoyed, "Your people simply do not want to fight."

"They need a reason."

Lexa threw her hands up, "Hundreds dead. That is a reason. If they do not care for innocent lives—they are worse than your leaders. They are enablers…they are…" Lexa was deep in thought as she recalled stories of leaders—hated and loved; cruel and compassionate; unjust and benevolent. "They are the neighbors."

"What?"

"They are the people who lived next door to concentration camps and did nothing to stop it." Lexa huffed, "If your people allow my people to be attacked—they are the neighbors. They are blind, they are fools. They are worse than your leaders because they let it happen even if they had the resources and ability to stop it. You are a brave woman, Clarke, but you cannot fight this battle by yourself."

She did not know how to respond but she managed to choke out, "I'm barely a leader anymore, Lexa."

"You have been possessed with the spirit of a leader." Lexa told her, "You were born with images of Earth in your mind—you told me how you drew and drew a place you were destined to never see. You are here, now. The only explanation for that type of fate is the fact that one of our great leaders must have reached you because you are a worthy soul." She did not believe in the grounder's myths but she allowed Lexa to roughly explain to her why she would never stop being a leader. "You were born to lead on Earth. Embrace your birthright and do not waste time on doubt."

They discussed other matters about after the revolution until Clarke felt the afternoon sun on her back. Lexa observed her reaction to the heat, tossing her a canteen. "Don't you need this for your trip back?"

"I don't travel alone. I'm not the only one with water." Lexa explained, "I'm surprised you haven't asked why I bring you this far out to have a quick conversation."

"It's crossed my mind a few times but I don't mind the walk." Clarke shrugged, "I'm trying to get in shape." The blonde smirked before she brought the canteen to her lips. Lexa enjoyed her small joke because Clarke was clearly in shape despite her womanly curves.

"When you run, I want you to know your way home." Lexa told her, "You have been granted this land. It is far enough away from Camp Jaha, it is close enough to my people. Of course, we will settle the finality of this in a well-designed treaty much later but as a fellow leader…as a friend…I want you to know that what you are doing for my people is widely appreciated."

Her eyes widened, "Lexa…you don't—"

Lexa smiled, her hand raised to stop Clarke from talking. "You once told me that the ark people sent you down here because you were expendable. It was their mistake but my gain, I suppose. You should head back as soon as possible before you are trapped in the dark with the beasts."

"What about you? We could walk together."

She exhaled, "I have to check up on my people, Clarke but thank you."

"See you in two weeks."

"See you in two weeks." Lexa said with a soft nod before retreating in the opposite direction.

-100-

It was late afternoon by the time she returned to camp, her arms empty handed as usual. The guards had running jokes about her lack of aim. Little did they know that she could shoot them in between their eyes with a gun or a bow and arrow—perks, she claimed, of being friends with the commander during war time. Lexa insisted that Clarke have the proper training when it came to fighting if they were going to be together all the time. They couldn't have her slipping up or missing if they were under attack…and with the animosity from other grounders, Clarke had to know how to protect herself so she didn't "bring harm to the commander indirectly" as one of her warrior trainers told her.

She handed the gun back to one of the guards, who held a smug expression on his face. Before he could insult her, a hand patted her shoulder twice. "I will never understand how you always come back with nothing. You could at least catch a rabbit or something." Miller joked, removing his hand from Clarke's shoulder as Bellamy joined them. "Nothing again, man. Good thing we don't count on Clarke for the meals around here."

Bellamy met her eyes, searching her face for her true reasoning for leaving. She knew Bellamy wasn't an idiot, he relied on instinct and his instinct was telling him that Clarke was doing something else with her time. Clarke turned her head away from him, forcing a laugh. "I'm a lousy shot, I guess." She could still feel his gaze as Miller continued with his jokes on her hunting abilities.

"Where'd you get that canteen?" Shit.

She opened her mouth, thinking before she lied to Bellamy again. "I found it."

"Where?" Bellamy crossed his arms, "Where do you go to hunt anyway? You've been gone almost nine hours. You've got a little bit of a tan, too."

Clarke shook her head, "You know, I'm really tired." She looked at Miller, "So tired, actually. Failing can take the oomph right out of your energy…" She did not walk towards her quarters, just away from Bellamy. She could not deal with his questions because she would be tempted to give him answers she didn't know how to form. She didn't know how to ask him to join her fight—she didn't know how to ask anyone, actually.

Did that make her a neighbor, too?

She found herself walking into the guard tent, getting eyes from most of the younger guards on the afternoon shift. "Ollie," She breathed with a fake, charming smile. "Can I speak to you outside?" Oliver Moss was nineteen and undeniably handsome. He had dark brown hair, cut short as a requirement for the guard. His jaw was angular, strong every time he clenched his teeth. His brown orbs were warming and often playfully undressing her. Even though it was evident he had feelings for her, she did not return them. The aspects of her romantic life revolved around Bellamy—no one else.

Oliver smirked as he followed her outside, "I heard you didn't catch anything."

Clarke snorted, "I heard you were in trouble for acting ridiculous…" Ollie shrugged, leaning forward for a kiss. She turned her head and he laughed at her rejection. "One day you're going to stop treating me like your girlfriend in front of your friends."

"One day you're going to agree to be my girlfriend." Ollie laughed, "I'm just counting down the days…" Bellamy did not like Oliver because he was arrogant, overly confident and "untrustworthy." He continued to laugh as Clarke glanced around them. "So, why are you here princess?"

"Don't call me princess, Oliver." Clarke said, "You don't have the right."

He wrinkled his nose for a moment, "That dick Bellamy calls you princess."

"Bellamy's not a d—" Clarke stopped talking because she didn't feel like lying anymore. Bellamy was—is—a dick. It's part of his personality. She sighed before she started lying again, "He and I are partners."

"You were partners."

She shook her head and embarked on the real reason she was with him constantly, "How was work?"

"Changing the subject as usual." Oliver started, "Kane keeps telling us to train and train and train…more than usual, actually."

Clarke viewed Ollie as a friend, sure…but he was also her informant even if he didn't know it. "Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"That would be nice." He smirked, "Are we going to sit with your friends? Monty and Harper seem to be heating up…and that Jasper guy drools over Bellamy's sister while with Maya. It's truly complicated." Oliver enjoyed Clarke's friends to an extent but he would prefer to be alone with her. "Speaking of Bellamy—"

"That's twice in two minutes." Clarke commented with raised eyebrows, "New record."

Oliver frowned as they walked towards the tables, grabbing ration bags as they settled. "Kane's a dick too."

"Kane is…complicated." Clarke exhaled, "We certainly have a history, that's for sure. He was the one who got me arrested in the first place but he's had his moments on Earth." Her feelings were truly complicated when it came to Kane. While they were fighting the Mountain Men, she viewed him as a shaky ally. These days, he was a war-machine, rambling about survival of the fittest. He was no longer an ally—he was the enemy but she had to pretend to be friendly so people did not get curious.

He only nodded, eating the food quickly. "Where are your friends?"

Clarke lifted her shoulders, "I don't know."

"You should eat."

"I've been in the sun all day. I'm not exactly starving." Clarke shoved the rations towards him. "Carla is looking at you again."

"Jealous?"

"Never."

He rolled his eyes, "Carla isn't my type." Clarke seriously doubted that. She was busty, beautiful and blonde. Sure, she was dumb as a box of rocks but she could satisfy Oliver if he gave her a chance. It killed her that he wasn't getting the point. She. Did. Not. Want. Him. "Oh, you're other boyfriend is walking over here."

She narrowed her eyes, "He wouldn't be my other boyfriend, he would be my only boyfriend." She realized as the words came out her mouth that it was the first time she'd ever said anything close to a confession of their after-dark relationship. She turned her head away from Oliver to address Bellamy.

"Get lost Moss."

"Why?" Oliver asked, mouth filled with food. "We're clearly on a date."

"We're not." Clarke corrected him.

"I know, princess." Bellamy's smug smirk made her heart quicken. "Monty thinks he broke his hand. He needs you."

"Oh." She said, standing up as fast as she could. "I'm sorry Ollie—it's Monty." Bellamy studied her face, continuing to smirk as they started speed walking. Clarke knew he was lying to get her alone. Ollie didn't do broken bones or blood. The leader in Bellamy recognized his weakness and took advantage of it. She walked in the direction of Bellamy's room, a smile on her lips. Once they moved through his door—she was his and only his. His lips connected with hers and she tried to move back but he pressed a hard hand to her back to keep her upright. "We need to talk."

"Dammit, Bellamy."

He moved his face away from hers briefly, "Be honest with me, Clarke. I need you to be honest with me." A hand ran down her face, his finger nail grazing her cheek for a moment.

She was not one to beg, but a plea fell from her lips. "Don't ruin this."

(A/N: Ollie looks like Steven R. McQueen . Jeremy Gilbert)

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