bellamy + stand on your feet
installment (3) of (8) in my meta series "the 100 + after we part"
(part one of a two-part companion piece to clarke + healing)
(credit to the creators of the 100 where it is due.)
Bellamy having to fight for every step back into Camp Jaha while Clarke is walking the opposite direction. Away. She was going away and leaving them behind. He can't stop her. Can't help her. (The helplessness is paralyzing.)
Bellamy meeting Kane's confused frown head on as Abby comes to her elbows, pale and exhausted but worried. Child before self. Where's my daughter? and he's firming his jaw to get through this intact, looking into Abby's face. gone. she left. and we're not going after her.
Bellamy fighting to ignore the gaping hole in daily life. Ignoring the glaring lack as he goes to talk to Kane and Abby about integrating their two peoples. (That's what his reality is, now. His and Clarke's people and their people. He does not hold many of Clarke's sentiments about who's included in our people.)
Bellamy burying the twinge of pain in his chest when someone comes up to him and asks before thinking, "Bellamy, Trevor twisted his ankle, have you seen Clarke?" (It hurts more than he would like to admit, because she's gone.)
Bellamy getting into it with Octavia (it won't be the only occurrence by a long shot) when she slips up and rants to him about how she still couldn't believe what Clarke had done; letting the missile fall on Tondc, trusting Lexa, every choice of Clarke's that she disagreed with. Camp Jaha is stunned by the magnitude of the fight. Bellamy and Octavia aren't on speaking terms for days.
Bellamy being accepted into the trust of the adults and relied upon to help keep Camp Jaha running and surviving. Being called upon for his knowledge of Earth and of what difficulties they face.
Bellamy working himself into the ground day after day, helping build homes for their swelled population number, working to train more guards alongside Miller's dad, participating in the shift schedule himself, always checking up on the kids to make sure they're in one piece, even if it feels wrong. It's Clarke's job. He shouldn't be the one doing it.
Bellamy being instated as a member of the new Guard, the Guard that answers to a Council, not a chancellor. Although he has far more duties than the typical guardsman out of necessity and preference. (He can't help the undeniable feeling of pride. He matters and they need him.)
Bellamy becoming the one that the Delinquents turn to for help and support. Raven using him as a sounding board on projects he never understands far more often than she needs to, Harper coming to him just for a long hug, Monty asking if he can sit in Bellamy's tent and fiddle while Bell is working, Monroe trooping around in his footsteps with her rifle, the younger kids asking him to tell them a story at night before bed (to drown out the screaming, Meg–she's only fourteen and his chest hurts–confides in a whisper) and even some older kids seeking him out with lame excuses to spend time around him.
Bellamy biting his tongue when he notices a pattern in Octavia's behavior, even though she's trying to be subtle about it. She always happens to "stumble" across him, wherever he's working at the time, on an almost hourly basis. He gestures her over after about a week of her checking up on him, ignores her raised chin, and hugs her with a gruff assurance of I'm not going anywhere, O.
Bellamy getting a taste of what it means to be the dad of teenagers when one of the kids starts hanging with "the wrong crowd" and he has to go haul Jasper, kicking and screaming, out of an initiation trial–we're not on the Ark anymore; grow up and start pulling your weight–and dragging him to Monty, who tears into him for being stupid then hugs him.
Bellamy knowing something's up when he gets to the mess hall a few minutes earlier than he normally does–a lack of anyone to side-lay him–only to spot what he has dubbed the "core" of the kids (Raven, Monty, Miller, Harper, Octavia, Monroe) clustered together at a back table and falling silent when they notice him. He's too tired to pursue it.
Bellamy being unsurprised when an intervention is staged and his little sister shoves him into his tent when the sun sets and orders him to sleep until he wakes up (not when he wakes himself up) and if he's an idiot about it, Monty knows about herbs to knock him out for a day or two, consequences be blasted. He concedes.
Bellamy learning when to let Miller take some of the weight off his shoulders, trusting Octavia when she says she'll handle a dispute, letting Raven stuff his maps and notes into a box and listening when she orders him to rest, allowing Wick to draw a laugh from him with his jokes (even though they'rereally sad), eating the food that Harper brings him without fighting. Bellamy figuring out that just because Clarke is gone doesn't mean he has to do this alone.
Bellamy not looking at another woman twice. She is it for him. And he's loathe to admit it, even to himself, because it will be his undoing if she never walks back in those gates.
Bellamy dealing with Jasper being cold and distant to both him and Monty, because he gets it, he can comprehend what Jasper is going through (he has and will again kill to protect Clarke; he knows) but then he overhears Jasper muttering to another of the Delinquents that he's glad Clarke is gone–she deserves to be out there after what she did, what they did–and he feels something snap inside of him. What would you have done in our place, Jasper? Let them all die? Killing Cage wouldn't have saved us. Get your head on straight before I knock it straight for you.
Bellamy starting it as a joke, just as a way to draw Raven out and get her to roll her eyes at him when she's detached–remembering the pain, the fear, over and over–but soon it's more. Soon it has weight and emotion and meaning. And when she asks him do you think it's our fault she wouldn't stay?, Bellamy lets out a breath that billows in the night air and murmurs, no, little bird. clarke– she just needs to breathe for a while. needs to come to terms with what we've done. she'll come home when she's ready. (she will. she has to.)
(Bellamy feeling like hitting something when Meg is injured–it's not life-threatening, but it's still serious and Abby has to operate–and she wants him there to hold her hand instead of one of her parents. She whimpers and tries not to cry as he smooths her hair back and tells her that she's brave; that he's proud of her. His heart breaks at the tear that slips from the corner of her eye, because these kids are his family now–all of them. And he wouldn't have it any other way.)
Bellamy resigning himself to his fate when he's the one that Raven comes to to start ranting about Wick when he's done something to brass her off. Again. (Bellamy wonders if Wick will ever learn when to shut up.) After two months, he feels disturbingly confident in his skills as a couples counselor.
Bellamy being the first to propose seeking out alliances with other Grounder tribes, utilizing his capacity as an unofficial Council member to put it on the table and lay out his reasons. (There are at least some traditions to be upheld, and having to be forty years old or over in order to join the Council is one of them. He's not upset over it.)
Bellamy waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, because there'd been so much blood. She's not dead, she's not dead, she's still out there, she's coming back. (He doesn't get back to sleep.)
Bellamy laying out specific instructions for those taking on his responsibilities while he's away with Octavia and Lincoln, traveling to seek out Grounder villages Lincoln believes will be open to entering into an alliance. It's hard to tamp down his worry about leaving the kids to their own devices, with Abby and Kane as their unbuffered authority figures.
Bellamy pausing for a minute in the gray light of early morning as the rain comes down on his head. There's no telling how long they'll be gone. Part of him hopes they'll find something about Clarke's whereabouts while they're gone, but another part is reluctant to leave for an interminable amount of time. It's only him now. If he dies, none of the others are ready to take his place.
(it's been three months and he's been ready for clarke to come home since day one.)
(end bellamy + stand on your feet)
thanks for perusing these scrawls.
