This was written for Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge (round 2) hosted on Tumblr. The theme of this round is angst, and the following four tropes had to be included:
-Exes
-"Give up all your weapons" and that one person that spends the entire evening taking their weights worth out of their pockets
-"Lets just (kiss/hook up/whatever) to get it out of our system"
-Groundhog day/time loop AU (must go through three (3) time loops)
I ended placing:
-1st for the best use of the exes trope
-1st for the best use of the "give me all your weapons" trope
-1st for the best use of the kissing to get it out of their systems trope
-1st for the best use of the time loop trope
-2nd for the best use of the theme (angst)
-1st for most in character
AND
-1st overall
Of course, I decided to make it even more interesting by including some sort of superhero AU and secret agent AU.
Warnings: this fic includes blood, violence, temporary character death, coarse language, sexual themes
Formatting notes: this fic might get confusing because of the time loops present. If the day has been "reset," it will always be made clear within the text AND a line break will be separating that section from the previous. On the other hand, if ". . ." separates two sections of texts, this means some time has passed, but this is currently the same time loop. I hope this makes sense. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Note: The title is based off of the song "Rewrite the Stars" from the movie "The Greatest Showman."
I hope you enjoy the fic!
Rewrite the Stars
Clarke knew her day went up in flames when she heard his voice. "Agent Griffin."
She didn't turn her head to look at him. Her eyes were locked on the wooden door across the hallway and her chin lifted high. "Agent Blake."
It was strange, being so distant from him. Only a few months ago, he was the person she trusted the most. Only a few months ago, he knew her better than anyone else.
Things changed.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Bellamy's button-up shirt was rolled to his elbows and his hands buried in the pockets of his black dress-pants. His hair was curly and ghosted across his brows. It was longer than it was a few months ago, and she couldn't stop imagining how good it would feel to run her hands through it.
She locked her jaw and forced her eyes forward again. "What are you doing here?" she asked, carefully keeping her voice even.
She could feel his eyes on her face, but she pointedly ignored him. It made her heart thud painfully, but she reminded herself that this was for the best.
"I'm here to speak to Kane."
Clarke's heart got lodged in her throat and her stomach felt heavy. She'd been at the agency long enough to put the pieces together quickly.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Before she could respond, they were both being called into his office, and her suspicious were confirmed. This wasn't a one-on-one meeting with the director like she expected.
Clarke forced her eyes forward, but she could still see him out of the corner of her eye. His lips were pressed tightly together and his eyebrows had disappeared behind the fringe of his hair. She knew him well enough to know that he was surprised.
She ignored him.
Kane was waiting for them when they entered the room. As she walked past Bellamy, her arm bumped against his. The hairs along the back of her neck stood up and a chill went down her spine.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, both wide and horrified. In this moment, she remembered why she tried her best to avoid him; being around him made her dizzy and unfocused. All she could think of was him, and his lips against hers, and the passion that filled her stomach with butterflies, and-
"Agents." Kane's voice was rough as he spoke, shocking Clarke out of the daze she fell into. She whipped her head towards him, trying to fight how fast her heart was racing. It felt like she just got caught doing something wrong by staring at Bellamy.
Well, it was wrong, considering how twisted their histories were.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked, trying to pretend nothing happened.
She brushed past Bellamy through the doorframe, moving to one of the two seats opposite of Kane's desk. She could hear Bellamy scoff slightly and follow after her.
"I wanted to see both of you," he corrected. Clarke sat down and kept her expression blank. Part of her wanted to be screaming with frustration, the other half of her wanted to break out with tears of joy. She had a complicated relationship with Bellamy. "I have a mission."
"For me?" Bellamy asked hopefully, dropping down into the seat beside Clarke.
Kane didn't look impressed. "For both of you. Together."
Together. It was a promise that had been broken between the two of them too many times. Just hearing that word made her blood freeze and her heart stop.
Clarke glanced at Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. While they didn't agree on most things recently, it seemed that they agreed on this. Teaming up would not be a good idea.
"What? No." The words left her mouth before she could really think of them.
Kane lifted an eyebrow. "No? Why not?"
"Uh. Sir." Bellamy shifted in his seat awkwardly and glanced at Clarke. "I don't know how in-touch you are with the rumor mill, but-"
"But nothing, Bellamy," he said, interrupting him. She knew what he was going to say. Clarke and I had a falling out. We aren't together anymore. We don't work together anymore. "I don't care much about rumors – and I didn't think you did either." He fell silent, and Kane took this as conformation.
He slid a piece of paper across the desk towards the both of them. Clarke leaned forward, while Bellamy kept his distance.
She scanned the paper. This was a follow up to a case they did together almost half a year ago – the taking down of Mount Weather Corporation. The names and locations came flooding back to her, like this was a case from yesterday, not months ago.
"I need you both of this case, got it?" She glanced at Bellamy wearily. She wasn't as discrete as she hoped. Kane sighed. "When you two were partners, you solved more cases than any other team. You were fast, and efficient, and did good."
"Mount Weather?" Clarke prompted, her eyes flicking up to meet his.
Bellamy leaned forward, finally having his interests piqued. She moved back in her seat, desperate to keep distance between the two of them.
"Mount Weather," Kane confirmed. "I trust you remember the file?"
She did. They were a wealthy corporation. They ran perfectly, or so it seemed; they followed every law, they always passed health inspections, they stayed out of the spotlight. It wasn't until last year when her and Bellamy discovered the darker truth.
Human experiments on people like her – people with abilities.
The world didn't know about them, which was why Mount Weather managed to keep their activities secret for so long. How could people care this was going on when nobody knew of the existence of this population?
That was why it was up to them – the agency – to take them down. They were the only organization to know about people like her. They were the only chance at stopping them and saving all those people.
She wanted to take down Mount Weather months ago, but things got out of hand. That mission was the beginning of the end for her and Bellamy in various ways.
"I don't know." Bellamy's voice cracked the silence. He was pointedly avoiding Clarke's gaze. "I… I think you should find someone else for the job." His words split her heart in two. "Miller's good – Murphy, too."
Kane lifted an eyebrow. "You're going to pass up a case I personally picked for you?" Bellamy was silent, which was a smart decision. "You two make a good team." Still, he didn't speak. Kane leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Bellamy's. It was a long moment before he spoke again. "Are you sure?"
Before he could answer, Clarke shifted forward. For the second time that day, she caught Bellamy's eyes. She tried to keep all of her emotions pushed away. This wasn't for them. This had nothing to do with them.
"Bellamy," she said. Strangely, her throat felt tight. His expression was emotionless. "They have people in there – good people. Innocents. Children." She tried to smile reassuringly and hoped it wasn't a grimace. "We started this. We should be the ones to finish it." She couldn't pull her gaze away from him. "We should do this together."
The words hung heavily between them. Together. She used that word again. That was something that they both promised each other long ago, but it didn't seem to get them far.
Bellamy was the one to look away. He glanced back down at the paper, his jaw locked. "It's just an information run?"
"You'll be there to get the required info, then you'll be out."
He leaned back in his chair, his usual cocky grin gone. His jaw muscles rippled and his lips were pressed tightly together. She could feel his tension rolling off him.
"Fine," he said, his voice tight. "We're in and we're out. Then, that's it." He glanced at Clarke, his eyes icy cool. "One mission, right?"
She forced a smile onto her face. "One mission."
Clarke never thought she'd be back here, on a mission with Bellamy, but she was wrong. It had been months since they last spoke or worked together as partners, but a day hadn't gone by where she didn't think about him.
Being partners with him again meant revisiting old memories and old routines. They'd been on countless missions together; some before they knew each other's names, many when they were strictly partners and friends, more than a few when they were something more.
Every time, they'd have to share a room. "Budget cuts," Kane cited. "Bullshit," she wanted to reply, but she knew better. Every time, he'd wake up early and get them coffee or something to eat for breakfast. Later, they'd always order pizza the night before a mission.
Even later than that, they'd always curl up with each other, their hair mused and lips swollen. Falling asleep in his arms was something she got used to over those few months – those few blissful months.
She didn't have to wait for a mission to fall asleep with him, either.
They'd been in love once. On missions or at home, she loved him, and he loved her.
Too bad she messed that up.
They'd gone into Mount Weather Corp once before, back when they first took on the case. She remembered staying in the exact same run-down motel. She remembered how his body pressed against her back made the beds a million times more comfortable. She remembered how good the coffee was that morning, when he came back from his early morning adventure.
It was different now.
She was alone in a cold bed. Bellamy hadn't spoken a word to her all night, and he slept with his back towards her on the second double bed. They didn't get their usual pizza order, or pour over plans until the moon was high in the sky, or let their legs tangle beneath the sheets.
Even now, it was different. She could hear him in the shower and she had to force her mind to not think about all the times she would be there beside him, not in a cold and uncomfortable bed.
She was trying to get her mind focused for the day, she really was, but it felt impossible. This room was haunted with the past.
Clarke hauled herself out of bed and made her way to the small table in the corner of the room, where worn blueprints were spread out. A dozen knives were resting on top of the maps, keeping it from folding in on itself.
She sat heavily in the chair and pressed her fingers to her head. She glanced at one of the knives; it was Bellamy's, made clear with how worn the metal handles were. She knew that her knife set was still packed away in her bag.
She turned her attention to the plans in front of her. The building was familiar. The public spaces looked like a normal office building, but the secrets were kept below ground.
They'd have to make their way through the side entrance, down several flights of stairs, and then navigate dozens of floors with laboratories, offices, and holding cells.
All they would be doing was getting information and getting out. They'd be leaving behind innocent people and it made her sick to think about.
Her people. Those were her people down there. They all had abilities of some sort, and Mount Weather wanted to exploit them. To hurt them.
She brought her fist up and held it inches away from her eyes. While it was invisible, she could feel it humming with power. It was like a lamp, with heat radiating off it. She'd grown up practicing her abilities, but there was so much that she still didn't understand.
Time loops and travel were hard to understand, apparently.
She was broken from her thoughts when the bathroom door opened. Her head snapped up and her hand fell to her side, her abilities all but forgotten.
Bellamy walked out of the bathroom, wearing only a pair of blue drawstring shorts. His hair was damp and plastered to his head, sending water droplets tumbling down his skin. His chest was bare, which sent Clarke's heart racing.
He looked damn good. It looked like he should be sitting in a museum as a statue carved of a Greek hero.
He paused as soon as he noticed she was sitting at the table. She half expected him to smile at her, like he would have when they were last here. She tried to ignore the way her chest blossomed with pain when he only lifted an eyebrow.
She adverted her eyes quickly and fought down the blush. They both knew she'd been ogling him, and the tension was heavy.
"I didn't know you were awake," he admitted. She kept her eyes locked on one of the blueprints. She felt like it would be best if she didn't respond. "We leave in ten?"
She tried to ignore the way her heart longed for him to come up behind her and wrap his arms around her shoulders. She tried to pretend she wasn't craving his touch, or his smiles, or his warmth.
That wasn't them anymore.
She swallowed hard. "Sure."
. . .
"That's the wrong way," she hissed. Bellamy turned to her, his eyes narrowed.
They managed to make it past the public levels and down the staircases. They were on the first level of the basement floors, making their way towards the other set of stairs needed to get to the lower offices.
The only problem was the fact Bellamy clearly did not remember the map as well as she did. He was leading them away from the stairs they needed.
"I think I know what I'm doing," he snapped. Both of them had their backs pressed against the wall just under a security camera. She desperately hoped they hadn't added anymore cameras since they were last here.
She pointed in the opposite direction that he was headed. "Offices are that way."
"This is the shortcut," he told her. She wanted to argue more, but the words died on her lips when their eyes locked. She hadn't been this close to him in months. She almost forgot how beautiful he was. "This is the right way."
When she didn't argue right away, he kept moving.
It had been like this ever since they arrived at Mount Weather. She spent the full morning wishing he would just talk to her, but, now that he was, she wished for something else. She wished they could talk like they used to, back before things got complicated.
He couldn't look at her. He couldn't talk to her. He didn't understand her.
It broke her heart. While they used to move in sync and communicate without a single word, that seemingly crumbled with their relationship.
She understood his reluctance. She understood his hurt. She did, she really did. But it still was painful.
"We can discuss this, you know," she pointed out after a moment, her voice low. He didn't glance back at her. She didn't know where to start, so she decided to point out the obvious. "You're mad at me."
"I'm not mad," he said. His tone gave it all away. He was mad. "I'm just right."
"This isn't just about directions," she said. She tried to quicken her pace and fall inline with him, but he was taller than her and moving faster. "You can't even look at me."
As if to prove her wrong, he turned around. Their eyes locked again, but she refused to let them knock her off her balance. "I'm looking at you right now."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I know it? Tell me more, Clarke. What other thoughts am I thinking, but I clearly don't understand."
Hearing him say her name sent a jolt through her. She steeled herself and lifted her chin. She was determined not to let him effect her.
"Just… Just stop," she pleaded. She fought to keep her voice strong. "I'm sorry. I would like to talk about this."
"You would like to talk about this," he said, his voice broken. He looked wrecked in that moment, if only for a split second. "I don't. If Kane didn't ask me to do this, and if it didn't involve children, I wouldn't be here. I'm not here for us or to heal – I'm here for them."
Clarke would have responded, if a dozen guards with weapons in their hands hadn't turned the corner.
Her heart stopped at the sight of guards rushing towards them. A chill settled over her. It'd been a long time since she was out in the field; it had been even longer since she was there with Bellamy.
They were spotted. She didn't have to take a guess as to how – she knew it was because they were both arguing as they walked through the halls. Their mission had been a disaster since they got the assignment.
Time seemed to slow down for an instant. The guards were running towards them, their weapons slowly lifting. She seen red dots appear on Bellamy's chest and she had to fight the urge to shove him behind her.
They were yelling something, but she couldn't hear them. Blood was pounding through her ears. Her palms were sweating and it felt like her heart had fallen to her stomach.
Bellamy turned to her, his eyes wide. For a brief moment, she could've sworn she seen her Bellamy, the man she loved from months ago. Emotions were flying across his face so quickly that she could barely comprehend them.
One thing was clear. He was terrified.
Before the weapons could fire, she lunged for him. As her hand wrapped around his forearm, her other hand was in a fist by her side. She focused on the warmth she felt earlier in that day. She envisioned her hands glowing, even though she knew that wasn't happening in reality.
She focused on the feeling of cold beds, and loneliness, and regret. She focused on the sound of water hitting the side of the shower, and the smell of dust on her clothing.
Then, just as quickly as they were there, they were gone.
Clarke's eyes flew open. Her heart was still racing in her chest. Her ears were humming and her mind felt chaotic.
It worked.
Her head was nestled into a hotel pillow. The scratchy blanket was pulled around her shoulders, trying to fight the chill in the room and in her bones. She could hear the shower running, too.
Clarke relaxed for a brief moment, letting her body melt into the mattress beneath her. For a moment, things were okay.
That was her ability. She was just like those people Mount Weather had trapped beneath their building; she had a power that set her apart from the rest. While some could move objects, or create electricity, or control vegetation, her ability was more complex than that.
She could go back in time.
Actually, if she was being specific, her ability was to create time loops.
It was complicated and messy. If she needed to get away or if she needed a do-over, all she had to do was let go. She'd be brought back to the start of her day. It was like a reset button.
The only catch was that she'd keep her memories and any physical injuries she obtained in the previous attempt. She'd remember what happened in the earlier attempts of that day and she'd bring back any wounds she received. Along with that, if she was touching someone, they would remember what happened too, and they'd carry their old wounds.
This was why she wasn't alarmed when she heard the shower abruptly shut off and the bathroom door open a few moments later.
Bellamy walked into the bedroom, his expression unreadable. It was slightly easier to focus on his face, not his chest this time. He met her eyes easier than the previous attempt.
They were both silent for a long moment.
She was thinking of how close that had been – of how much danger they'd been in. It made her feel sick. She promised herself that she wouldn't get Bellamy in dangerous situations anymore, and she failed completely at that.
She sacrificed everything for that promise. To watch it fail so quickly made her feel like the ground was crumbling at her feet.
"You've been practicing," he pointed out, breaking the tense silence. "You got us out of there faster than before."
A strange thing happened to Clarke's heart. He remembered where her progress was at when they broke up, and he'd noticed an improvement. It was something so small, but it hit her hard.
She sat up from the bed, holding the covers tightly. "Yeah."
Bellamy picked up his discarded shirt from his bed. He peeked at her through an arm-hole. "We'll head out in ten minutes again?"
Clarke tried to ignore the way her heart fell with the shift of topics. She wanted to talk to him – to work things out. She knew it wasn't her place to bring up though; he was the one who was hurt and needing time, she didn't want to make him feel rushed.
His words echoed in her ears. He wasn't here for forgiveness or healing – he was here to do his job. He didn't want to talk to her about their past or the hurt that was so clearly between them.
She had to accept that.
Clarke swung her legs out of bed. "Let's be more careful this time, alright?"
The corners of his lips twitched. He glanced up and locked eyes with her. "Alright."
Dusty sheets. Worn blanket. Cold bed.
Clarke's eyes flew open. She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes and let out a small groan. How many attempts had it been? Five? Six?
She lost track.
Every single time, something went wrong. The first time, the guards found them because they were arguing. The second time, they never even made it past the public level – they were spotted because they spent too much time discussing which plan was better. The third time, they accidentally bumped into each other, which caused Clarke to hit an alarm.
Time after time, they messed up.
This had never been a problem before. For months, when they worked together, they'd never needed this many resets. They'd go in, get the job done, and get out.
This wasn't like old times though. They were a mess. She couldn't move without bumping into him. He had to mumble under his breath for her to know what he was thinking. They kept bickering. There was this tension between them, and it was messing them up.
No, it was past that. It wasn't just messing them up, it was messing the mission up. This was bigger than them, and it needed fixing.
"Bellamy!" Clarke called, pushing herself up from bed.
She padded across the room to knock on the bathroom door. Before she got there, she could hear the shower water shut off and she knew Bellamy would be emerging from the bathroom any second. She paused, halfway across the room, but it was too late to retreat. The door flew open and Bellamy stepped out. She stumbled a step backwards, trying to put distance between them.
"Shit," he swore. He was too distracted by his thoughts to comment on her panicked expression. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, frustration evident on his face. "We keep fucking up."
"We need to talk," she said, her voice desperate. "I know you said you don't want to, but… Please. It's distracting. It's-"
"I know."
Clarke stopped speaking immediately. Bellamy's shoulders slumped forward and he looked utterly defeated. Her heart lurched in her chest. She had the urge to reach out and comfort him, but she knew that would only cause more problems.
She turned back around and walked back to her bed, her eyes shut. She didn't know where to start. Things were a mess. She'd messed up. He was angry with her – rightfully so.
She was the one to break up with him. She was the one to tell him that she didn't love him, even though it was a lie. Every piece of her ached to be with him, every inch of her heart loved him.
She had to. It was for their own good. It was the only way to keep both of them safe.
She knew it would hurt him, and she thought she could deal with the fallout. She thought she could deal with the pain that came with losing someone she cared so much about, because, in the end, it was keeping him safe. She would rather him hate her than be dead.
She was wrong about dealing with the fallout. After all this time, she still loved him and her heart still ached for him. After all this time, she still regretted her choice.
She still stood by it. If it meant he was safe, she would stand by it until the end of time. But she regretted hurting him.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice strained. She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, her head resting in her hands. She kept her eyes shut, but she could hear Bellamy sitting down on the edge of his bed too. "I… I really messed up, Bellamy."
He didn't say anything, which made her hurt more. She could feel the pain radiating around her body now, almost like all of her regret and hurt from that night was back full force.
"You left me," he said, his voice taking a tone she didn't recognize. Her heart broke and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
It was true.
That night seemed like it was a lifetime ago, but the hurt was still fresh.
She knew that her feelings were clouding her judgement when it came to him. She loved him so much that she was willing to risk anything to keep him safe. It was dangerous. She was willing to risk the whole mission for him.
If they started jeopardizing missions for each other – if they messed up because they were too busy protecting each other to be focusing on the goal at hand – they'd be screwed. Their line of work didn't allow for mistakes; either they'd die, or the agency would be put at risk.
It was dangerous. They were thinking with their hearts, when they needed to be thinking with their heads.
Not only was it jeopardizing the missions they were on, but it was also dangerous while on missions together. He was her weakness. If someone they were working against found out that she would do anything to keep him safe, a target would've been painted on his back.
She couldn't risk him. She couldn't risk their missions. She couldn't let him sacrifice himself, just because he enjoyed kissing her.
So, she left him. She told him she never loved him. She told him that he was a good friend, but that was it.
It was her. She was the one to end it all. She was the one to hurt him.
This was just the fallout from her actions – from her trying to do what was right.
She regretted it. She regretted ever lying to him.
She loved him so much that her heart ached. She never wanted to live a day without him. She never wanted to hurt him. As soon as she left him, she wished she didn't. She wished there was another way.
Logically, there wasn't. This was the best option.
"I never meant to hurt you," she said. She weighed each word carefully. "You have to know that, Bell. I- I didn't mean to hurt you."
Using his nickname sent a new flash of pain across her chest. She clenched her jaw.
"You did," he said, his voice broken. He looked broken, too. His eyes were haunted with the ghosts from their past. "I loved you. I loved you, and you left me."
Loved.
That word hurt her as much as the pain on his face did.
Clarke closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.
She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and was still in love with him. She wanted to tell him that she lied to protect him, that she lied for the greater good. The words were on the tip of her tongue, too. So easy to speak. So easy to change their fates.
But she didn't.
They had a mission to do. She still carried those same fears as before; of jeopardizing the mission, of getting him killed.
So, she lied. "You deserved the truth. I knew it wasn't what you wanted to hear, but…" She forced herself to lift her eyes. "I wasn't in love "
He scoffed and adverted his eyes. He was smiling despite the tears welling up in his eyes. It felt like her heart was made of broken glass.
"I know," he croaked. He glanced down at her and something seemed to shift in his gaze. "I know," he said softer.
She struggled to keep her voice even. It felt impossible to speak past the lump in her throat. "You were my best friend, Bell, and I loved you in that way. It's just not the way you want to be loved."
"You're right."
Her mouth tasted like poison. "You deserve to find that love, Bell. You're a great person that deserves to be loved like you loved me." She smiled. She felt like she was dying inside. "I didn't want to keep you from that. You deserve more than what I could give you."
Bellamy ran his fingers over his face. "I really miss you." Almost like he realized what he said, he glanced at her from between his fingers. "As friends. As partners. We were really good together. On the job."
"I miss us as friends, too," Clarke said. "You're so kind, Bellamy. You're strong, and you're passionate, and you're hilarious. You have such a big heart. You deserve happiness – happiness that I couldn't give you."
I wanted to give it to you.
I love you.
Please don't believe me. I'm lying.
Bellamy blew out a long breath and forced out a smile. "Sure, Clarke. Whatever you say."
Clarke tried not to pretend her heart wasn't absolutely aching. She tried to pretend that she didn't want to tell him the truth. She tried to pretend she didn't want to curl into his side and sob because of how bad this hurt.
Instead, she stood up from the bed. "Partners?"
He looked wrecked when he looked at her. "Always."
. . .
That was all it took.
Later that day, Clarke and Bellamy managed to infiltrate Mount Weather Corp successfully. Just like the first time, they managed to get through the public levels without much trouble. They'd made it down the first and seconds set of staircases. All they had to do was find the correct office with the information and leave.
While everything she told him was a lie, she felt better, in a way. He'd been hurting, and she could still tell he was hurting, but it was different. It was like her words were a soothing balm on the burn. It didn't automatically heal it, but it sure as hell made it better and more bearable.
Maybe, one day, he'd be okay. What she did say was true; he was a good man that deserved happiness. He deserved to find someone who loved him to the ends of the world.
It hurt to know that couldn't be her. Not right now, at least. Maybe one day, things would work out. Maybe one day, they could be together.
Not today though, and she would never ask him to wait for her.
They were mid-way down the hallway when he froze. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she ended up bumping into him. His arm flew out, catching her across the middle, and rooting her to the floor.
As soon as his arm was around her waist, her eyes snapped towards him. Just as she was about to speak, his hand was over her mouth and she was being dragged sideways.
Panic rose around her, making her heart race and adrenaline flood her system. Her mind was buzzing and she had to fight the urge to elbow Bellamy in his stomach.
She went with him. He pulled open a supply closet door and she stumbled into the dark. He quickly came in after her, shutting the door behind him.
Clarke couldn't see anything. The only light bleeding into the closet was from under the door, but there was only enough to see the outline of Bellamy's face.
For a moment, they were both utterly silent. Her mind was swimming, trying to make sense of what was going on. Clearly, he sensed something she didn't.
She heard it seconds later; the sound of boots clanging against the metal floor. She realized with a start that he just saved both of their lives.
The second thing she realized was how close they were together. The space was cramped, forcing them to stand pressed against each other. Her throat felt tight from standing so close to him. She could feel his breath ghosting against her skin. Her body was pressed flushed against his; she could feel every curve of his muscle, and every breath he took.
Every cell in her body was hyperaware of how close they were. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, from where he guided her into the closet. Her hand was pressed against his chest to steady herself, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her palm.
Shadows past under the door and voices filtered through. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but she didn't have to. If Bellamy hadn't pushed both of them into the supply closet, they would've been captured or worse.
Her heart was racing, but not out of fear. Her stomach was filled with butterflies and her skin was prickling. Warmth flooding through her body and her mouth was instantly dry.
Her breath got knocked out of her lungs when she glanced up at him. His eyes were locked on hers and burning with intensity. His lips were slightly parted, blowing even breaths across her forehead.
She swallowed thickly and forced her gaze back up to his eyes. They were locked on hers, desperately searching for something. She tried not to think about how many times they'd been this close before, or how good his lips felt on hers, or how much she wanted to run her hands through his hair again.
Her gaze dipped down to his lips, a want filling her. Being pressed up against him was sucking all the logic from her – her thoughts and her promises were slowly being eaten away by the want to be with him, to love him again.
They were both so still in that moment, and only part of the reason was because they were hiding. It was like she was frozen, being pressed up against him.
She could've sworn she seen his gaze drop down to her lips, if only for a brief moment.
No. It must've been her imagination. She was sure of it.
He was looking at her again, and all she could focus on was his lips – his stunning lips. She swallowed thickly and locked eyes with him.
Before they could speak, another shadow past under the door. This time, it didn't move away. She realized with a start that voices had died down from the hallway; she'd been so distracted by Bellamy that she never noticed.
Clarke knew what this meant. They were caught.
She didn't have to reach for Bellamy when her hands started burning with energy. She shut her eyes and forced her focus away from the man pressed against her. She imagined the hotel room, and the sound of the water from the shower, and the feeling of regret in her heart.
Before the closet door was ripped open, the time loop was created, and they were gone.
Clarke woke up to the sound of the shower running. They were back at the hotel, hours before they shoved each other into the closet.
Another redo.
It was another attempt at the day, but all she could think about was the previous attempt.
Bellamy's hands on her hips, his lips inches from her face, his eyes so focused that it felt like she was melting under the intensity. The need to inch forward and capture his lips with hers, the want to be under him, the temptation to tell him the truth.
She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes until she could only see stars. Hell, what was she doing?
She pushed out of bed and let her toes sweep across the floor. She tried to convince herself that their encounter in the closet didn't really matter, because it never happened. (Not in this timeline, anyways, and that was what mattered.) The time loops made it confusing, but she reset them to the morning – hours before they infiltrated Mount Weather and hours before they locked themselves in the closet.
If it never happened, then why was it the only thing on her mind? If it didn't matter, then why couldn't she think of anything except Bellamy?
She needed fresh air. Or water. Or to be off this mission. Something – anything.
This couldn't be happening. She couldn't afford to be thinking of him. She didn't want to be thinking of him.
They broke up. It was her choice. It was for the greater good.
If anything, the previous attempt assured her of that. She was so distracted by being close to him that she never realized guards were outside the closet door, getting ready to capture them. This was why she broke up with him; it was too dangerous to be in love while on missions.
She stumbled off the bed, her eyes locked on the bolted door. She tried to convince herself that this wouldn't be running away. She just needed a break. She needed to sort out her priorities.
All those thoughts vanished as soon as the bathroom door swung open. Bellamy walked into the hallway, the same blue shorts around his waist and his hair dripping. Butterflies immediately erupted in her stomach and fire scorched her veins.
In her panic to escape, she tripped on her two feet and lurched forward. He moved towards her like he was expecting this, his arms outstretched. She landed roughly against him, her heart racing and her breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat.
His arms were around her waist, holding her body upright. Her hands were against his bare chest, the warmth seeping into her clothing alongside the water.
She felt petrified in that moment. Somehow, they'd managed to find themselves in a very similar position to the one in the closet, despite this being an alternate timeline, and despite all the space around them.
(Maybe this was what fate always intended?)
They were still and silent for a long moment, both of them too afraid of what was happening. It was shocking, to be pressed up against him like this again. As she fell into his arms, it felt like the pieces of the universe fell back into place.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his. Unlike in the closet, she could see every detail of his face perfectly. She could see his freckles across his cheeks, like the stars in the sky, and the tiny scar on his upper lip.
And his eyes – fuck, his eyes. They were dark and passionate and burning with an intensity she'd seen more than a handful of times before. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips. His eyes flicked down and, without a doubt in her mind this time, he was looking at her lips.
She was grasping at the last fragments of her promises. It was harder to remember why they broke up when they were pressed together like this. It was hard to remember much of anything past how right and how good this felt.
Bellamy's eyes met hers again. Warmth was pooling in her stomach. A shudder ran up her spine. The tension between them was too much.
Then, they were both moving towards each other. She felt every last piece of tension and resistance evaporate as soon as his lips were on hers. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her forward.
Their kiss was frantic and desperate. It was like she was drowning, and he was the last breath of air. She needed him. She wanted him.
Her hand tangled into the back of his curls, letting them wind around her fingers. Water dripped from them, rolling down her arm, sending goose bumps erupting across her skin. Her other hand collapsed at his bicep.
His fingers pushed under her shirt, his hands coming to rest on her bare skin underneath. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip and a moan got trapped between their mouths.
She broke away from him for a quick breath of air. His hands were pulling at the hem of her shirt now, and she released her hold on him to help him with the material. Her shirt was tugged up and over her head, joining his forgotten clothes on the floor.
His lips pressed into her jaw and down her neck, just as her hands trailed up his back. She tipped her head towards the sky, allowing him more access to her skin.
They both broke apart as soon as they started tipping backwards. Her legs hit the side of the bed, and she clung to him as they both fell. He landed on top of her, his forearms resting on the bed beside her head.
Her chest was heaving as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Bellamy was leaning over her, his breaths coming out as pants, his eyes darker than that deepest depths of the ocean.
Reality was hitting her hard. She just kissed Bellamy. She let herself get too caught up with their tension and history, she let herself fall back into old patterns, she let herself give into her feelings and wants.
Her heart was racing in her chest for a completely different reason now. The warmth in her chest was replaced with ice.
She shouldn't have done that. They broke up. Kissing him, while marvelous, was jeopardizing everything.
She could see reality catching up to Bellamy, too. He shook his head and rocked forward, shifting from leaning on his forearms to his hands. Her hands dropped from his chest and fell towards her bare stomach, suddenly feeling very hallow.
He pushed off of the bed and moved across the room in a fluid motion. She stayed laying, staring at the ceiling, for a long moment. She tried to calm her racing heart and push down that want and fire in her.
Bellamy was pulling on his shirt from where he discarded it before his shower that morning, slipping it over his bare chest. His back was to her, guarding his emotions. She was desperate to see him – to see his face.
She begged that he wasn't hurting. She begged that she imagined the whole thing – that this wasn't real.
No matter how good it felt, this couldn't be real.
He didn't say anything or turn to look at her when he tossed her shirt towards her. She sat up and caught it, her heart aching in her chest.
"Bellamy?" she said, her voice hesitant. She was terrified. At hearing his name, his back stiffened. "Bell-"
"It's fine," he said, his voice hoarse. "We needed that. Just to get it out of our system." He still refused to turn around to look at her. It was for the best; if he did, he would've seen how devastated she looked.
"Right," she said, forcing herself to sound normal. "We just needed to get it out of our system. Get back to normal."
He chuckled dryly. "Right. Normal."
She tried not to let his words sting. After all, she was the one who got them into this mess. She slipped her shirt back on and stood up from the bed. "Ready to go in ten?"
. . .
"Duck!"
Clarke dove roughly to the floor, rolling to a standing position around the corner from the chaos. A bullet became imbedded in the wall where her head had been moments before.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
She pressed her back against the cool metal wall, her chest heaving. Sweat trickled down her back and her hair kept falling into her eyes.
Bellamy was across the hall and around the corner from her, still in the midst of the bullets and the screaming. He was taking partial cover behind a doorframe, his gun in his hands. His back was flush against the door and his head steadied against the doorframe.
He was out in the open.
"Bellamy!" she cried, her heart lodging itself into her throat. He didn't flinch as she cried out for him. He kept firing at the oncoming guards, his face made of stone.
She glanced around the corner of the wall, hoping to see a nearly empty hallway. She hoped Bellamy had already taken out majority of the guards trying to kill them. They were so close to the office now. All they had to do was reach the end of the hallway.
What she saw caused all hope inside of her to vanish. Dozens of armed guards were rushing down the hall towards them. Even more were spilling out from the back staircase. They were already outnumbered, but they were about to be crushed.
Fear gripped her. Usually, she wasn't scared in these situations. She knew that, if things got bad enough, she could activate her ability – she could let go – and she'd be back at the start of the day. She'd wake up again, and they'd make a new plan, and things would be better.
Not this time.
She was so scared that the world around her felt like it was spinning. Bellamy was out there, right in the middle of it all. He was firing at the dozens of guards, wearing no protection, and bullets were flying all around him.
What scared her even more was the fact that this might be it. Staring at all of the guards with their guns rushing at them reminded her of her mortality.
If she died, game over.
Without her, nobody could create the time loop. Without her, there would be no escape. This would be the final reality they'd be in.
In this case, she doubted that would result in success. If she died, he died with her.
She needed to get out. They needed to get out. They were close to the office, yes, but they couldn't fight their way out of this one. They should loop back to the morning and just try again.
"Bellamy!" she cried again.
This time, she caught his attention. He glanced away from the oncoming guards and turned to her.
That was his mistake.
For a brief moment, time stood still. All she could focus on was him. His brown eyes, so determined. His face, which reminded her of Greek heroes – collected and guarded. He was terrifying, and beautiful, and haunting.
Then, his mask slipped off his face. His eyes widened with a horror she hadn't seen before. His gun clattered to the ground below him and the white floor became speckled with red.
No.
Her world stopped as she watched him tip forward, his hand pressed tightly to his side.
He was bleeding. He'd been shot.
Without hesitation, Clarke raced forward, running towards him. It was a miracle she didn't get hit by a bullet as she crossed the hall. As soon as she reached the doorway where Bellamy stood, she twisted the knob with one hand, while her other reached out for him.
His eyes were wide and haunted, like he'd just seen all of his nightmares come to life. His knees were weak below him, and his fingers were covered in blood. He looked like he was petrified.
She shoved the door open and they both tumbled inside a small office. Clarke let go of Bellamy to slam the door closed behind them, turning the deadbolt. For good measure, she grabbed the nearest chair and shoved it under the doorknob.
For a moment, it was silent. The room was illuminated by a computer monitor, but, other than that, they were in complete darkness. She could hear orders being yelled down the hallway and she knew they didn't have much time.
Clarke turned to Bellamy, her heart in her throat. She was shaking – from adrenaline, from fear, she didn't know.
He was leaning on the desk, his hand clutching his side. The lighting from the screen was harsh against him, making it look like he was the one glowing. Despite the poor lighting, she could see his hand already covered in blood. His whole body was shaking, too.
He turned to her and she felt her heart break. His eyes were wide and his jaw was locked. His skin looked paper-thin in that moment, and he looked like he was shattering into a million pieces.
She held her breath as she looked at him in horror. Blood was seeping from between his fingers and running down his wrist.
He was shot. She couldn't see the wound, but it looked like it was in his abdomen.
Her eyes met his again. He must've seen how terrified she looked, too, because his face broke at that. "Clarke." He spoke her name with so much pain that it made her feel like she was suffocating.
She rushed forward, closing the distance between the two of them. "No, no, no, no." She caught him as he tipped forward, pulling him close to her. She lowered both of them to the ground, shock dulling her horror.
She could feel a warm substance spreading into the knees of her pants. She didn't need light to know what it was.
His blood.
He was losing so much blood, so quickly.
Fear gripped her heart. No. No, this wasn't real. This wasn't happening.
"Clarke," he said again, his voice cracking. She pulled his head to her lap, her fingers getting tangled in the curls. Her hands were shaking as she tried to brush some of them away from his face.
"It's okay," she promised him, her voice breaking. She reached down to where he was holding and lifted his hand away.
She was a liar.
Nothing about this was okay. He'd been shot. He was losing blood. She wasn't a doctor, but, based on how sick he looked, she knew this wasn't good. She wasn't a stranger to death; she'd lost people she loved before. She knew the look of death.
It was the same look Bellamy had right now.
She pressed down on his wound and turned back to him. He was staring at her, his eyes wide. His breathing had become rapid and shallow.
No. Please, no.
He was dying. She could see it. He was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. For the first time in her life, she felt helpless. If she restarted the time loop, they'd be away from the danger, but it wouldn't save his life.
Injuries worked just as memories did. If she went back to the beginning of the loop with him, he'd still have these injuries. He'd still be dying, no matter what she did.
He broke her from her train of thoughts when he tried to sit up. She pressed down on his injury to prevent the flow of blood and leaned over him, catching his eyes with her own.
"Don't move," she pleaded. She didn't know when it happened, but she was crying. Her vision of Bellamy was blurred, and she hated it. She wanted to watch him, and value every last second with him.
"S'okay," he promised her. His eyes were barely open and his lips were barely moving. She let out a tiny sob.
This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't meant to end this way.
His hand not covered in blood lifted towards her. Somehow, he managed to find the strength to brush her cheek gently. As he did, the corners of his mouth lifted to a smile. Clarke sobbed.
"I'm going to die."
"No," she told him, strength she didn't know she possessed in her voice. "No, you're not dying, Bell, okay? Just hold on." She wiped her tears on the shoulder of her shirt and blinked rapidly. She needed to get a grip. She needed to think clearly if she was going to save him.
"S'okay."
"No," she said, her voice sharp. "This isn't okay. You're not dying." She gripped his free hand tightly with her own, pulling it to her chest. His fingers were already cold. "I- I can fix this. Okay? Don't worry, I can-"
She was interrupted when something smashed against the door from the hallway. The wall seemed to rattle with the force. She jumped and whipped her head around.
They were trying to get in.
No. No, she needed more time. She had to fix him here, then they could go back. They could go back and things would be okay. They could restart the day.
Bellamy's eyes fluttered shut and his body relaxed. Horror unlike anything else rose inside of her.
"No!" she shouted, gripping his hand tighter. His eyes opened again, but they didn't hold the same life they usually did. They were out of focus and distant, like he was in a different world altogether. "I- I'll take us back to our room, okay? I'll go get help. We can fix you there." She sobbed despite trying to maintain control. It felt like control was slipping through her fingers like sand. "It'll be okay."
His grasp was weak. She wasn't too sure what to feel in this moment. She was terrified, and desperate, and heartbroken. It felt like she was falling to pieces.
He wasn't listening to her. He looked to her. There was an emotion in his eyes that she didn't recognize. He wet his lips before speaking. "I lied."
His words were starting to slur together, but she understood him perfectly.
He lied.
She didn't have time to process his words. Another bang came from the hallway, and she knew the door wouldn't last much longer.
"I lied earlier," he said again. His eyes still held so much tenderness, the same tenderness that he looked at her with months ago. She didn't think she'd ever get to see this softness again.
"About what?" she asked, almost too afraid to speak.
"I told you I don't love you anymore," he said, his words mumbled. "That was a lie. I'm still in love with you." His voice cracked. Her heart felt like it was completely frozen in her chest. The tears that had been building up slid down the sides of his face, getting lost within his curls. "I'm still so in love with you, princess."
She let out a sob at that. With those words, it felt like every bone inside her shattered. It felt like she had been punched in the stomach, and she curled in on herself.
"I… I never stopped loving you." He managed to pull his hand from her grip and to rest against her cheek. Gently, his thumb swooped across her cheekbone, wiping away the tears.
She reached for his face with her free hand, creasing his cheeks. "I lied too," she said, her voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you either," she promised him. His eyes fluttered open at that. They locked on hers for the final time. "I'm so in love with you, Bellamy Blake." She ran her fingers through his hair. "Please don't go. Please don't leave me."
His hand dropped from her face and she felt his body shutter.
"No!" Her voice was hoarse. "Bellamy!" He didn't respond. "Bellamy, please. Look at me!" She was beyond hysterical. "I'm right here," she sobbed. "I'm here and I love you. I'm sorry."
Still, he didn't respond.
He was dead.
Clarke curled forward, trying to keep the guilt and the remorse away from her heart. She tried to fill the void in her middle that losing Bellamy made.
She didn't have time to grieve. The door shuddered again from the outside force, and she knew she only had seconds to reset the loop before this became the final reality.
This gave her a newfound sense of strength. Bellamy would still be alive. When she reset the loop to the morning, he would still be there. He would still be okay.
But, this time, she wouldn't be going back with Bellamy. When she reset the loop, it would reset him, too. They'd be back to square one.
She didn't have time to mourn him. She scrambled away from his corpse and focused on the warmth in her hands. This time, it was easy to let go.
When Clarke woke back up, she didn't waste a second. The hotel room was just like she remembered it; cold and silent. The pain that came with the memories of the room was nothing compared to the pain in her chest from losing him.
She raced across the room, stopping in front of the bathroom door. The water from the shower was still running, but she knocked frantically at the door.
"Bellamy!?" she called, her voice still hoarse and desperate. "Bell!?"
She knew he wouldn't remember. He wouldn't remember dying. He wouldn't remember their kiss from earlier in the morning, nor would he remember their confessions of love. He wouldn't remember getting trapped in the closet with her, or the other dozen loops they went on.
He wouldn't remember anything.
For all he knew, just the previous day, they got the assignment. They hadn't spoken in months.
She knew this should've broken her more. She should've felt loss over this fact. They'd grown together, healed together. They reached a point where they were laying in bed and they told each other they loved each other.
And, she did feel loss. There was a heaviness inside of her knowing that only she would remember those days. She would be the only one to remember how they both found each other again, despite everything.
He wouldn't. They were still strangers, in a sense. They never agreed to be partners, they never grew as friends. They were simply just exes.
But at least he was alive. She would take this loss over losing him any day.
The door to the bathroom flew open and she started sobbing.
He was okay.
He was standing inches in front of her, wearing nothing but his shorts. His hair was plastered along the sides of his head, still heavy with water. His bare chest glistened with it, too.
He looked slightly terrified and confused, but he was okay. He was alive.
He was different, but he was alive.
Clarke felt that hole in her middle open up again, tearing her straight down the centre. It felt like her heart was physically breaking from the amount of pain she carried.
She lost him.
He was dead. She watched him die.
She still lost him.
The man in front of her now wasn't really her Bellamy – it wasn't the same man that she held as he died, he wasn't the same man that tumbled to the bed with her.
That Bellamy was dead, and it made her heart shatter.
It hit her hard, now that someone wasn't trying to kill her. Now that he was standing in front of her, it felt like something inside of her snapped.
She was moving forward without a second thought, reaching for Bellamy. Without hesitation, he took her into his arms, and pulled her close. Her nose pressed against his neck and her hands were held on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm; it made her sob harder.
"What's wrong?" His voice was gentle. His arms were wrapped around her, and it felt like he was keeping the pieces of her soul together. His lips were pressed against the crown of her head, bringing comfort flooding to her. "Are you hurt?" She only managed to shake her head, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. "Clarke?"
"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, finally mustering the strength for words. "I'm so sorry."
She was so scared. She lost him. She lost him.
Bellamy's hands rubbed her back and his chin was rested on the top of her head. She clung to him, almost as if he would fade away if she let go.
She watched him die. She had to hold him as he died. She doubted that memory would ever leave her.
Beautiful face, sparkling eyes, blood-covered hands. Tears across his cheeks, no life left in him. She could still see him, even though the living Bellamy – the true – Bellamy was right in front of her.
"You're sorry?" he echoed. Suddenly, he froze under her touch. He began to put things together. "This isn't the first time you're living this day, is it?" His voice was so hollow; she briefly wondered if he already knew what happened.
"No," she said. She pulled back from his chest slightly, just enough so she could look him in the eyes. He was staring at her with such intensity that it almost made her start sobbing again.
"You looped back?" he clarified. She managed to nod. "How many times?"
She told him.
She told him how many times they'd attempted the mission, and about how many ways they failed. He didn't need to ask why she was sobbing, or why she was apologizing, or why he couldn't remember the loops.
He already knew he died.
While they hadn't been here before, he'd been around her long enough to understand her abilities. He understood the limitations of them, and he understood her well enough to know what this meant.
"It's okay," he told her, pulling her to his chest again. "I'm okay."
When his lips pressed against her forehead, she could only cling to him tighter.
Several failed attempts later, they succeeded in making it past the public levels of Mount Weather Corp. As soon as they started the descent down the first staircase, Clarke's heart was pounding in her chest. She felt sick with panic and dread. This was where Bellamy died.
She knew this was a different timeline. She knew that Bellamy never actually died. He was right in front of her, after all.
It didn't make it any less real for her. She watched him die with her own eyes. She watched his blood spill from between her fingers and pool on the ground. She saw the light draining from his eyes.
It was real to her, even if it wasn't reality.
She watched Bellamy carefully as they climbed down flights of stairs. His gun was already in his hands; that was something he hadn't done before. While she never told him how he died – he really didn't need that picture in his mind to haunt him – it didn't take much to guess.
Something else was nagging at her, too.
He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember how their breaths mixed together when they hid in the closet. He didn't remember the way his teeth pulled on her lips, or how her fingers threaded through his hair. He didn't remember them talking, or her lying, or him lying.
It wasn't in this lifetime, but she could still recall his words with perfect clarity. "You left me. I loved you and you left me."
She remembered how much it hurt her heart to lie. "I wasn't in love with you." All she wanted to tell him, back in the hotel room, back all those timelines ago was how much she did love him, and that was the reason she had to let him go.
Clarke also remembered his words, tainted with blood and wrapped in desperation. "I lied earlier. I told you I don't love you anymore."
And her words.
Her words.
"I'm still so in love with you, Bellamy," she said, breaking the silence that encased them.
Bellamy froze, three steps in front of her. She didn't regret speaking those words out loud. They were true. They'd always been true.
"I lied," she said, her voice shaking. She hated how it echoed off the walls of the empty staircase. She knew this was dangerous, doing it here, but the words were spilling out of her without a second thought. "When we broke up, I said it was because I didn't love you." He was still frozen; unmoving; unbreathing. "It was a lie. I am in love with you."
She was crying, but it was different than the first time she spoke these words. During the loop where they confessed everything, she was crying because she was losing the man she loved. Now, it was because she felt free. Speaking these words – telling the truth – was like a weight was lifted off of her.
He finally turned around. His gun was hanging limply by his side and his face was loose with shock. "What?"
"I love you."
She could see him visibly swallow. His eyes were locked on hers. "What happened in the loops?" he asked.
"You died," she said, her voice shaking. He didn't flinch away like she was expecting. "But we worked this out. We… we agreed to be partners again." She leaned against the railing and lifted her eyes to the florescent light above his head. It was easier to look at that than his face. "But this isn't from the loops. I didn't fall in love with you again during the loops, because I didn't have to." She swallowed thickly and repeated his words from a previous loop back to him. "I never stopped loving you."
He looked taken back. "What?" He shook his head. "What do you mean, Clarke?"
"I lied," she said her voice cracking. "I have always been in love with you, and saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I had to do."
Bellamy shook his head. "Why'd you do it then?"
Clarke felt like she was suffocating from these questions because she didn't have a good answer. Saying it out loud made it sound muddled; while it was in her head, it had all been so clear. "I did it to protect you." She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "We were both too invested. We were getting distracted. It was dangerous."
Bellamy rubbed his eyes. "You did it to protect me?" She nodded. "Clarke," he said, his voice filled with so much tenderness, "I would've given anything to be with you. I would give anything to be with you."
Her breath caught in her throat. It felt like her heart had plummeted to her stomach.
"What?"
"I love you," he said. He took a step towards her. She clung to the railing, feeling like her legs might give out from under her. "We… We could've found a different way – a better way – than running. We could've worked it out together." Her throat felt tight. "You put the burden of keeping us safe on you, but you weren't alone. We're a team – we've always been a team."
She knew she messed up as soon as they broke up, but hearing him speak now, it made her feel like she was falling to pieces. It was the last straw.
She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. He returned her embrace just as he did earlier that morning. Despite being in enemy territory, she felt safe being with him. Things felt right.
Their embrace was short lived. It felt like, in every timeline and in every world, they would be torn apart as soon as they got back together.
This timeline didn't disappoint.
Her nose was pressed against his neck and his fingers were buried in her hair when they heard a door open a floor above them. She tensed in his arms, reality rushing back to her.
They had a mission to do. They had people to save. They were in danger here – they didn't have the luxury of comforting each other.
Bellamy was the first one to react. He took her hand in his and pulled it, already moving towards the closest exit. She trailed behind him, her free hand moving to grip her gun.
When they burst off the staircase, hell broke loose. It was as if they'd been waiting for them; like they had been pushing them into this trap.
As soon as they were through the door, a knife was pressed to her neck and her hand was ripped away from Bellamy's. She was too stunned from everything happening to fight back, and she was dragged away from him.
Bellamy was across the hallway from her, only feet away, but so far out of reach. A gun was pointed at him and all of the blood in Clarke seemed to freeze.
No. Not again.
She couldn't lose him – not again. She couldn't watch him die, she couldn't leave him behind again. She couldn't wake up trembling, knowing that she was the only one who remembered a past that didn't exist.
She refused.
They locked eyes from across the hall. His were determined, filled with a strength that she loved, filled with fire that burned everything that it touched.
"Go," he urged her. He was shoved roughly and a Mount Weather guard stepped between them.
Clarke didn't move. She wasn't going back without him. She wasn't going to lose him and she wasn't going to abandon him.
They were going back together.
She'd heard of theories before that stated nobody could change fate, not even her. No matter how many time loops she created – no matter how many times she travelled back to that morning – they would always end up here.
They'd always be separated. He'd always lose his memories. They'd always fail.
Screw fate.
She made her own fate.
They were shoving Bellamy against the wall now, a gun being held against his back. His hands were pulled behind him too, making his face press into the cool metal of the walls.
"Weapons! Now!"
Clarke's mind was reeling. Bellamy was pressed against the wall, guards surrounding him, guns pointed at him. She could feel the cool metal of a blade digging into her skin, too.
She was terrified of losing him. She was terrified that she would be killed, and he'd be stuck here.
Then what? He'd be a prisoner? He'd be killed?
She didn't want to know.
They had to get out.
Bellamy was resisting the guard's movements, which caused them to push him roughly against the wall. His lip was bleeding – she didn't know what from.
The guard who was holding her tensed, pushing the blade closer to her throat. She had to act quickly, before things got even more out of control.
"Stop!" she pleaded. She was scared to swallow; the knife was so close to her, she was afraid it would draw blood if she moved. They weren't paying attention to her, they were still demanding Bellamy give up all their weapons. "I carry all the weapons!" she cried out. "It's me! It's me!"
That got the attention of the guards.
The one who was shouting at Bellamy turned to her, his eyes filled with what reminded her of poison. Three guards kept their hold on Bellamy against the wall, but the others turned to her.
"I have majority the weapons," she promised, her voice quieter now that she grabbed their attention. "I will give them all to you, as long as you let him go."
The leader scoffed and looked at her like she was a child. It made her want to punch him square in the face, but she doubted that would help their negotiations. Instead, she bit down on her tongue.
She glanced down at his name badge. Emerson.
"Do you take us for fools?" he hissed. "You will disarm and, in return, we won't kill you right away. You're in no position to bargain."
She knew she wasn't, but she was desperate. All she could think about was Bellamy and keeping him safe. All she could think about was getting to him and getting them out of there.
"Just don't hurt him," she said, her voice sounding more and more desperate, even to her. "Please, okay? Please don't hurt him." She lifted her hands slowly in front of her, showing them she didn't have a weapon in her hands.
They must've thought they were the good guys, because Emerson smiled slightly. Maybe he thought she wasn't a threat, or maybe he thought that he was being nice; she didn't care – this was working in her favour. "Get the gun off of him," he ordered. "Lovejoy, keep a hold on that one."
Clarke felt relief seep into her as two of the guards released their hold on Bellamy. The single guard remaining, Lovejoy, jerked him off the wall and kept his hands bound behind his back.
"Hand over all your weapons," Emerson said. Clarke forcefully tore her gaze away from Bellamy to eye the man in front of her. His gun was pointed at the floor, but she knew he would be able to fire before she did anything.
"I can't move," she hissed. She didn't need to explain anymore. Emerson gave a hard look to the guard restraining her, and the knife disappeared from her throat. Her hands were released, too.
"Better?" he sneered. Clarke kept her face emotionless as she reached for her weapons stashed along her body.
A plan was slowly forming in her mind. She had doubts that it would work, but it was their only chance. It had to work.
They already had her gun that she carried in her hands. Slowly, she reached towards her belt. She lifted the hem of her shirt, showing her handful of knives strapped around her hips.
Clarke worked slowly, pulling each knife individually from its holster. A single guard stood beside her, taking each weapon as she pulled it off.
As she worked, her eyes kept darting towards Bellamy. Emerson and Lovejoy seemed to keep their words; he wasn't pressed against the wall anymore, and no guns were pointed at him. Lovejoy kept a strong hold on him, he was still restrained, and blood trickled from his cut lip, but he was okay. He was watching her with confusion and admiration.
Six knives came from the belt around her waist. She dropped the hem of her shirt and moved towards her boot. She lifted her pant leg, revealed several other knives stashed away.
Her eyes flicked to Emerson. He looked more amused than terrified, and it made her skin crawl. Did he not realize, if she wasn't willingly giving up these weapons, they would've all been used against them?
The guard in charge of holding all of her weapons was struggling to hold them in her arms. It would've been amusing, if the situation wasn't so critical, to watch someone try to balance dozens of knives in their hands.
Clarke stood back up, passing the last knife over to the guard. She feigned sweetness as she looked at Emerson, hoping he would underestimate her.
"That's all?" he pressed, his eyebrows raised.
"Would you believe me if I said yes?" she countered.
He didn't look too impressed. He turned to the guard hanging around her back. "Check her for any more."
This was the opportunity she was waiting for. The guards around her became distracted with her weapons and the threat of her carrying more. The single hand that was holding her in place disappeared as the guard moved to search her.
She glanced towards Bellamy, locking eyes with him. A silent understanding passed between them.
Now.
She lunged forward and punched Emerson in the face so hard that he stumbled back a few steps. She could hear a loud smack from several feet away; she didn't have to look to know Bellamy just did the same with Lovejoy.
Guards sprang into action all around them. Clarke kicked the woman holding her knives out of the way, clearing a path between her and Bellamy.
Their eyes gravitated towards each other again. They were like opposite ends of a magnet; destined to pull towards each other over and over.
She could feel the power building in her wrists and through her arms. She lunged towards Bellamy, just as he reached out to her.
As soon as she could feel him beneath her fingertips, she let go.
Clarke woke up to the sound of the shower running. The pillowcase was rough on her cheek and her toes were cold.
She sat up, her heart hammering in her chest.
She was back.
The hotel room was as dingy as ever. The blueprints for Mount Weather Corporation were spread out across the table in the corner, she was wearing her pyjamas, and the light was streaming in from between the curtains.
Clarke pushed herself out of bed, somehow making it towards the bathroom door without falling flat on her face. The shower was still running, but she was desperate to see Bellamy.
Just as she raised her hand to bang on the door, it flew open, starling her.
Bellamy's hair was dripping and she could visibly see water running over his shoulders and down his chest. He was wearing his blue drawstring shorts again, just as he did every previous morning.
Her breath got squeezed from her lungs. The air was thick in the bathroom from the still-running shower. Steam tendrils were pouring out into the hall. She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach when they locked eyes.
"Do you remember?" she asked, almost afraid of his answer.
"Yes," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I remember everything."
Then, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He dipped his head towards hers and captured her lips in a kiss that stole her breath. His lips were firm and sure on hers, making her knees wobble and her head spin.
His hands were around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. They stumbled back a few steps and the cool tile floor of the bathroom caused a shock to go up her spine.
She wanted to get closer to him, and to never let go. Gods, she wanted to get lost with him.
His hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb creasing her cheek. His touches were so gentle and so careful that it made her heart ache.
Her hands were grasping at his bare chest. It made her want to cry to feel how warm and alive he was. She couldn't get enough of him; of his lips, of his warmth, of his hands.
They pulled away, desperate for air. Her chest was heaving and her head was spinning, but she couldn't pull away from him. She didn't want to pull away from him.
His eyes were dark and full of passion. She could get lost in their golden rays, and she would never complain a second. They were so captivating and held so much life – such much warmth, such vibrancy.
"I never stopped loving you," Bellamy said, echoing his words from a lifetime ago. It made Clarke's heart throb painfully. She pulled herself closer to him. "I'll always love you, Clarke."
"I never stopped loving you either," she echoed, too caught up in the moment to think of something else to say. Those were the words that felt right, even though she had a million other words running through her mind. She promised herself she'd tell them to him over the next years. She'd always make sure he knew how much she loved him.
As their lips connected again, he lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands were in his hair and her teeth on his lips. She could feel his smile against her lips, and she knew he could feel hers.
He stepped into the shower and, within seconds, her pyjamas were soaked and her hair was plastered to the sides of her face. Both of them were laughing – bliss overcoming them.
As they got lost with each other, neither one of them thought of time or the mission. All she could think about was him.
. . .
Their damp hair was soaking the pillows, but she didn't care. Their legs were tangled together under the blankets, much like they used to.
Somehow, with him, the blankets weren't as scratchy and the beds weren't as cold.
She was dozing, entirely too comfortable for her own good. Being wrapped in his arms made her feel safe. It made her feel like she was home.
Through hooded eyes, she could see he was smiling beside her. She couldn't help but return the smile. He looked so good, and seeing him so happy and at peace did funny things to her heart.
This was bliss.
Clarke thought of how stupid she was for trying to leave him. She never wanted to be away from him like that again. Losing him was a shock that she needed – it was a heart wrenching reminder of how fragile life was.
Her fingers absentmindedly dragged up to rest against his chest, above his heart. He opened his eyes lazily and smiled at her.
"You okay?" he mumbled.
"I'm perfect," she responded. It was the truth, too. In that moment, things felt right. Finally. "I'm sorry for lying," she said, the happiness suddenly bleeding out of her. He opened his eyes at her words. "It was stupid. Even after pushing you away, all I cared about was you. When your life was in danger, all I wanted was to save you. No matter if we're together or not, I'm going to love you and I would risk everything to keep you safe."
He moved forward, capturing her lips with his again. "So, we both agree to be partners?" he asked, his voice teasing.
"Always."
"And to not run."
"Of course."
Bellamy's grin was toothy. "Good. We'll need to have this solidarity when Kane hears we're skipping the mission today."
Clarke laughed and threaded her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. She creased his face, her heart feeling like it could burst from the amount of affection pouring through her.
And, for a moment, everything felt right.
Thank you for reading. If you're interested in reading any of my other Bellarke fics, please check out my profile.
Also, if you're interested in reading my other fics written for "Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Edition" please check my profile! They are titled "Heart and Soul" and "Rainy Days"
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