A/N: So I pretty much hate this story, even though I've been desperate to write it for a long time now. But I thought I would post it anyway, because – well, because this is all about Geminis which is my star sign, and today (June 18th) is MY BIRTHDAY. And I've always wanted to do a thing about star signs, and finally decided to tie it in with a soul mate fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.
I was going to list in the ways this story is AU, but it turned out to be a great long list, so: this story is AU. If something doesn't mash with 100-canon, just go with it, 'kay?
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The 100 or any of the characters; I also do not own any of the information on zodiac signs astrology . com (ffnet hates website links) ; and I do not own any song lyrics used
i know this doesn't happen twice
I'm standing where the lightning strikes;
I know this doesn't happen twice
You must be my once in a lifetime...
Landon Austin, Once in a Lifetime
Gemini must be the worst sign to be, in Clarke's opinion.
Libras, they are known for keeping the peace; Taurus', for the temper that can burst out at random; Leos for their natural ability (and desire) to lead; Virgos are precise and analytical. Geminis are many things: witty and clever, always eager to gather information with ever-lasting curiosity; spontaneous, they are good in a crisis; they are able to motivate a team.
But no one remembers that. No, all they remember is that Geminis are the only sign that has a soul mate.
It's not like they are divided into fractions or anything.
For God's sake, this isn't Divergent.
But it matters which star sign you are. For example, Aquarius' are inventive and original, and are pushed into the design area. Taurus' are likely to go into finance. Libras are encouraged to attempt to become members of the council, because they are natural diplomats.
Teenagers are more interested, as a general rule. When they're in class, teachers get the kids to say their birthdays along with their star sign. Even then, Clarke would look at the other boys and girls that were Geminis, wondering whether her soul mate was in that very room.
It isn't like you're looking for a needle in a haystack, though sometimes it feels that way. No, Geminis – from the moment they are born – have a mark on their bodies. Spencer from her class has a little cross on his wrist. Old Mrs Knight has a smiley face, or a crescent moon on her shoulder. Your soul mate is the person who has that exact same mark that you do, in the exact same place; as if you were one and then split in two by accident. Gemini, after all, is the sign of the twins; the only sign that is split in two. That's why people say Geminis have soul mates: their other half is missing, and they spend their lives trying to find them.
Lucky me.
It's not like you won't be happy with anyone else. Some Geminis – most, in fact – never find their soul mate, and are quite content with their partners.
Then again, she's spoken to Geminis who have found their soul mates. Mr and Mrs Boatman live down the hall. It's not like they're constantly walking on sunshine: they don't talk to each sometimes, and every now and then Clarke can hear them arguing when she walks past their apartment. One time, when Mrs Boatman finds out Clarke's a Gemini, she asks whether she's glad she found her soul mate. Mrs Boatman shrugs. "I just got lucky."
"But..." Clarke struggles to say what she means. "You just argue a lot, and I thought..."
"You thought soul mates never argue; that they are perfect together." Mrs Boatman grins. "Let me tell you this: I fight with Ian all the time, but I had boyfriends before. Quite a few. They've never stuck though, not like Ian has. When I kiss Ian, it's different." And that's when Clarke sees an expression across her face, like she's staring right into cluster of stars that make up the twins. "It's more."
"Do you like that you're a Sagittarius?" asks Clarke, when she's about ten. She's meant to be doing her homework, but her mind is on other things. She found out that Alicia Drummer is a Gemini. She wonders if she could be her soul mate. She's not seen her mark yet – but then, some people are secretive about their marks. She is.
Her father grins over the burgers he's been making, head tilting towards her. "It doesn't bother me," he says. "Do you like that you're a Gemini?"
Clarke shrugs, but her father knows her better than anyone, and he shuffles towards the bookshelf. "Here," he says. "My mother had this. It was written long before the bombs started falling. It's all about astrology and star signs." He hands it to her, that grin of his glued to his face. "I think you might find it interesting."
She doesn't want to be interested, but late that night she finds herself flicking through the pages. The book is quite big, and she would take hours to read through it all. It doesn't just give you information about the general personality traits, but the compatibility between the different star signs. She is pleased to find that her parents' marriage is near perfect – her mother is Aries and her father is Sagittarius. She puts off looking at the Gemini compatibility until the very end. Geminis seem to work well with most other signs because of their adaptability. It explains that two Geminis work well together as a couple, one of the best matches. And in neat, small handwriting near the bottom: perfect match if soul mates are found.
She slams the book shut.
Before the bombs, the soul mates were more easily found: you could take a photo and post it on a website, and usually your soul mate would find it and email you. On the Ark, it's not that simple. There are more important things to worry about. Instead it's just based on luck, on being in the right place at the right time. Fate.
In some ways, Clarke's quite relieved. It makes things so much easier, to leave it up to destiny or design. No choice involved. No decision to make.
"You don't really believe in this soul mate thing, do you?" Wells is bent down, studying the game of chess. But she can tell he's watching her.
Clarke shrugs. "It makes sense, I guess. I'm just not sure..."
He lifts his eyes. "What?"
"I'm not sure if you're happier, even if you do find them."
And that's what makes Clarke wonder. Because if you aren't guaranteed to be happy with your soul mate – what's the point?
The day before her father is arrested, she loses the book.
She had taken it to the mess hall; always a favourite, she had been hoping to look it over, trying to get the conversation out of her head: the one where her father said that the oxygen system on the Ark was failing, and soon they would run out; where he basically said that they were all going to die unless a miracle happened.
Weeks, years later, she can't remember what happened to the book. Her mind was lost in a thick haze, and by the time she realises it's gone, she's halfway back to her apartment. She spends a good hour retracing her steps and asking questions with the workers in the cafeteria, even peering through the rubbish bins.
She finds a quiet spot in the hallway, near a window overlooking Earth, and buries her head in her hands. Her shoulders shake and she can feel her chest quivering, but there are no tears. Not yet.
"Hey." She lifts her head up to find a guard standing in front of her. He's shifting on his feet, his hands placed behind his back in the standard position. He looks like he wants to be anywhere in the world but here. "I, er – are you okay?"
She isn't crying, but she must look awful, because he doesn't move. "Fine. I'm-" Her voice cracks, and it doesn't hurt so much as it does knowing he's heard. She jerks her head away.
"I'm-" She hears him take a deep breath. "I'm a member of the guard-"
"So?" Embarrassment has pushed her now, and she's on the offensive. She lifts her head up a little higher. "What does that matter? Do you honestly think you can help me? You?"
Something in his face hardens. "Sorry. Forget it," he mutters, backing away.
Just as quickly as her anger's hit, it's gone, and there's a quick pain in her chest – guilt. "No, look..." She runs a hand through her hair. Perhaps it's shame, but it's only now that she can feel tears in her eyes, and she looks away. "I'm sorry. I'm just going through something at the moment."
She can see his foot is half-lifted, already set to leave. She wouldn't blame him. But instead he takes a hesitant step towards her. "Can I do anything?"
She inhales. "No."
"You sure?" His face is covered in freckles, hair smooth and slick on the top of his head, and he looks so young, so innocent – too young to be a guard, in her head. For a second she is distracted by his freckles, images the stars in the distance. She's stared at him for too long though, and now he's noticed.
"No – I mean, yeah, I-" This time her breathing is shaky. She doesn't want him to, but he sits down on the bench beside her, and when he looks away she quickly swipes at her eyes. "Can I ask you something?"
He nods once.
She speaks before she can think better of it. There's something about him which makes him easy to talk to – the anonymity of a stranger, knowing that she's likely not to see him again. "Let's just say – hypothetically – that you know someone – a friend, is going to do something. It'll get him into trouble. And it could potentially cause problems for others."
She's looking at him when she speaks. His face remains impassive, but she can see his eyes are watching her, taking it in. "If this friend of yours is going to get himself into trouble, and perhaps hurt others, then why would he do it?"
Oddly enough, Clarke hasn't thought about the reason he's doing this. "Because...it's the right thing to do."
"Then he should do it."
His answer is unwavering, and it makes her lean back. "Why?" she asks, even though she shouldn't be having this conversation.
"You said it: it's the right thing. Even if it's going to hurt other people..." He eyes her. "I don't know what the hell this is about, but my guess is your friend is going to tell the truth about something – like an affair – and he's going to tell other people.
"If that's the case, then telling the truth is always better than lying. The truth usually has a way of coming out one way or another. At least if you're upfront about it, you have a chance to control it."
"Something you know from personal experience?"
And just like that a shadow falls across his face, its previous openness disappearing; and just like that Clarke knows that her hunch is correct. "I have...experience in lying. But I don't have a choice."
Whatever happened in that moment, their shared – it's over now. He stands, giving her a nod. "I hope it works out," he says coolly. He walks away before Clarke can even thank him, before she can even look at his badge to find out his name.
The next day, she tells her father that she wants to help him.
Because he's right: both the guard and her father. Right.
It's the right thing to do.
One of the last things her father said to her, back when they were having a normal conversation, is this: "You're in control of your destiny, Clarke. No one else, not even the stars can tell you how to live your life."
They had almost got the intercom working when a guard had caught them; she had tried to fight, but the swarm of guards had pushed them down before they could get it working. She was spared, despite the fact she was named in the charges of treason.
Her father was floated the next day.
She cries herself to sleep, her dreams blurring with images of him, her mother's tears, Wells – even the guard that she spoke to, who she hasn't seen yet despite being in the Sky Box.
Despite what her father said, she isn't in control. If she was, then she could have stopped them from killing her father. She could have protected him.
During her time in solitary, she thinks of her soul mate, but there is no worry or sense of obligation. Not now. Instead she feels – surprisingly – a twinge of disappointment. There is no way she won't be floated for this. She will follow her father and be pulled out to the stars, spend her last moments in weightlessness, feel –
Nothing.
Perhaps it's better this way. She's not sure happiness was ever destined for her.
Then they are dropped from the sky, and in no time at all they hit Earth.
Then the world – then everything she thinks she knows – turns upside down.
She knows him, the second she yells "Stop!" from the ladder of the drop ship. He turns, and it feels like one year ago, when she was staring across from him – when her father still breathed. This time though, he looks older. The youth that was so prominent on his face before has gone, as if someone has chiselled it away. He looks at her and she knows, in that second, that he doesn't remember her.
She feels a twinge in her chest. Relief? She's not sure.
He's a guard, older, so she knows he's not meant to be on the drop ship. Her mind is going a mile a minute and a part of her wants to open her mouth and ask him, but she's worried that she'll say do you remember? and now is not the time to stroll down memory lane.
"Bellamy?"
Clarke's eyes hone on a girl paused on the ladder, who has spoken – breathed his name like it is oxygen itself. Her eyes light up and her voice is like birds rising from ashes, and it all makes sense now. Love makes people do insane things, crazy things. She should know: she loved her father so much she risked her own life for him. She watches as the two of them stare at each other before they bury themselves in each other, a tangle of arms and emotion.
Her mouth opens in order to stop the swelling in her throat, to say something. The girl whirls round, hair swishing. "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year."
Brother. Her entire body feels like it's lost its feeling, her head so light she can barely hold it up. It reminds her of the time she took a tablet that didn't react well with her body, how her limbs seemed to move too widely and jerk too often, how she had trouble swallowing, how her throat felt so dry she could barely speak.
She blames the landing.
No one has a brother. The words resonate a second after they're spoken, become hers, and she remembers his face: "I have experience in lying." He's not the first person to have a sibling hidden in his apartment, stowed away behind the fake backs of wardrobes and under floors.
She can't stop him from opening the door and, in truth, she doesn't want to. It's the brightness that hits her first; never in her life, not even when she was born, has light ever been like this. She has to blink a few times, but even when she can't see her other senses are at work:
Scent: the smell, God, is so – so fresh that it feels like it's clearing her insides, almost makes her want to cough. It's like nothing she's ever smelt before.
Sound: it's not unfamiliar – she's heard these sounds from old films that she's managed to watch. But now – now they are loud, now they are real: the bird chirping in the trees – birds. There are birds. Actual, real animals.
She feels her legs begin to tingle; her breath catches. Now that she can focus more, she can see how green everything is. She never had a favourite colour before, but now she can't imagine it being anything but the brightness, the renewal of green.
He – Bellamy, she reminds herself – allows his sister to step out of the drop ship first. Clarke watches the girl skittishly approach the ground, hopping like one of those little birds in the trees. When she places her feet on the grass, it looks like steam rises from it, smoke from the drop ship. Clarke's chest seizes, excitement and another thing – envy. She wants to have her feet planted on the ground; she wants to touch the long grass with her hands.
His sister hurls her hands in the sky and shrieks. Others join in. When Clarke sneaks a glance at Bellamy, she sees the smile on his face, his eyes glowing as he looks at his sister; and Clarke knows that she is wearing the exact same expression.
Being on the ground is not easy.
The good things? The freedom, the fresh air, the feeling of the sun touching their skin; being able to sleep under the stars. The absolute easiness of movement, the laughter that now comes so easily to the delinquents. The fact that they haven't been on the ground for a week yet, and already their skin is beginning to tan. The way that the air feels when she breathes in, like – like she can actually, for the first time in her entire life, breathe.
The bad? How about trying to gather food? Or the fact that there happens to be people on the ground (Grounders) who seem to have no problems spearing them. Or how cool it gets on a night, or the lack of supplies, clothing and warm beds?
Or the fact that she seems to be constantly caught up between two Leos, both who happen to be on the constant mission to out-do each other. She turns her head to hide the rolling of her eyes as Bellamy and Wells start yet another argument – because, y'know, the first five they've had just haven't hit the spot.
One of the first things Clarke did upon landing on Earth, after saving Jasper and finding food, was to try and sort out a system. At the head of that system, there needed to be a leader. Or, at the very least, a group that would take charge. Leos were her first choice, being natural leaders; Libras would have been good too. But there is an astonishing lack of both in the group of delinquents. And anyway, despite the star signs, most of the kids are so excited to be on the ground that they don't give a damn about whose giving the orders.
Finn's a Libra, and she thinks it's perfect. But he shows little sign of wanting to take charge, preferring to wander off by himself. So instead, she's left with Wells and – Bellamy. She's always known Wells has been a Leo and – well, she never asked Bellamy, but since he commands (or perhaps roars may suit better here) louder and more effectively than anyone, gathering the attention of the delinquents with utter ease, she assumes that he's a Leo. She's also heard Octavia say that it's crazy how close their birthdays are since they're born six years apart, and she's Cancer.
She thinks Wells would rather stick spikes in his eyes to admit it, but he – they – need Bellamy. Without him the delinquents would be a mob of unruly teens; he controls them, convinces them that they need to work together. But he's brash and dismissive, insulting, and doesn't hide the fact he loves to wind Wells up.
Thing is, Clarke would hate him – does hate him. Half the time she storms out the tent, hair flying behind her and even Finn, the person she's closest to on the ground, gives her a wide berth. Sometimes she has to shove her hands under her armpits, because she thinks she may actually hurt him, and he should be thanking God right now she doesn't have a scalpel on her.
She hates him. Honestly, completely and utterly.
Except –
Except when she's nearly asleep her subconscious takes over, and she remembers – the boy with the youthful look and slight smile that seemed foreign on his face; remembers his words, about righteous.
Sometimes she thinks that must have been a dream; or maybe Bellamy has a doppelganger. Because that boy is not the same person standing in front of her now, arguing with Wells, taunting him. What does this person know about righteousness?
Wells voice rises, and when Clarke lifts her head she can see a vein forming in her neck. "We need them. In case you haven't noticed, there are under a hundred of us now – we are greatly outnumbered – we need to send people to sue for peace-"
The snort sounds like Bellamy's pulling something up his nose. "'Sue for peace'?Are you fucking serious? If we approach them they will spear us like they did with Goggle Boy-"
"Jasper," Clarke hisses between her teeth.
"Whatever." Bellamy doesn't spare her a glance, completely focused on Wells, and that's enough to make her hackles rise. "Like you said, they have superior numbers. Outside these walls we are defenceless. We have no guns – we have knives or axes, and only a few at that. We are risking lives approaching them – so, who do you decide gets to die? Me?"
"Like hell," Wells says, his voice as cutting as the blade of a knife. "If we sent you in there would be an all-out war in less than five minutes."
"Well why don't you go then?" Bellamy challenges. "Or are you going to send your girlfriend to do the work for you?"
"Okay!" Clarke leaps to her feet. "Why don't we take a vote?" Bellamy mutters under his breath but Wells is nodding, rolling his shoulders back like she's seen his father do. "All those in favour of sending an envoy to the Grounders?" No surprise, Wells raises his hand. He's the only one.
His eyes hone in on Clarke, striped with hurt. He turns on his heel and storms out the tent, ignoring Bellamy's taunting whistle.
"Trouble in paradise, Princess?"
"Oh shut up," snarls Clarke, turning on him. "Why do you need to goad him?"
"Honestly? Because I need a laugh and annoying him is the best way to get one."
"He's right though. We need to make peace with them, otherwise we'll all be dead in a month."
"Then why didn't you vote with him?"
She shifts on her feet. Wells is her best friend. And she can feel his eyes on him when she is with Finn, and she knows – they're changing. They're on the ground now, everything's changing, and Wells – it's been no secret that he's wanted more.
Even so... "Because I think you're right," she murmurs. Clears her throat, lifts her head to face him because God forbid she shows him weakness. "I mean, who do we risk going into one of their villages? What if they don't come back? Our numbers aren't large – we can't risk anyone. How can we send someone – a kid into their village, not knowing if they'll make it out alive?"
Blink and you'd miss it, but she swears she sees a flash of the boy back on the Ark; a flicker of – sincerity, she thinks. The way his eyes begin to glow, like a dimmer switch.
"Glad to see someone from Ark royalty has a brain."
And she rolls her eyes again. "Typical Leo," she mutters under her breath. Out the corner of her eye she sees him tense.
"Why are you flirting with him? He's an idiot Clarke – he's a jerk-"
"What – what are you talking about? He's – Finn's one of the most decent people down here. You're just jealous."
"Jealous?" Wells pauses, his dark eyes focused on her. "What would be jealous of Clarke?"
She shouldn't say it. Friendship, it also works because of the things you don't say; the lies you let go. "Because you want me to be with you," she whispers. "But I don't want that."
She watches as Wells stares at her for a long moment. She can feel it then, the tides of change sweeping across their relationship. He swallows and nods. "Fair enough," he murmurs, and steps back, steps away from her.
She closes her eyes. It had to be done, she knows – knows that she and Wells –
She will never feel the same way about him. The chord needs to cut – it needs to end.
It doesn't stop Clarke from hating herself.
(It occurs to her, much later, that he never actually said Finn's name.)
She sleeps with Finn, and a day later his girlfriend comes crashing down. Literally, almost spits out from space like a comet, blazing through the sky. A girlfriend that leaps into Finn's arms and kisses him, ignoring the gash on the side of her head. She risked her life for him. True love and all that.
Clarke would scream and shout, but honest to God she just doesn't have the energy.
This would be the thing that she would talk to Wells about. But apart from council meetings ("Seriously? Council meetings? Can't we be the Justice League or something?" and Wells scoffs and Clarke rolls her eyes so much that she's worried they'll be stuck that way) she and Wells have been avoiding each other. Besides which, after – after the acknowledgement of his feelings for her, she can't talk to them about this. It's too much to ask, even from her best friend.
In this kind of situation she would go to her parents, but obviously that's out the question.
She is outside the boundary when Bellamy finds her, knelt by the graves of the dead. "Are you insane?" he spits. "Sitting outside the walls with no weapon? Between you and Octavia chasing after butterflies-" He stops when he sees her face.
She's not sure what she expects of him, but he kneels next to her. The silence doesn't feel uncomfortable. Either she's become used to Bellamy (please God no) or she's too tired to care. "Am I the only one that is focused on keeping people alive instead of who's fucking dating who?"
"Must be because you're such a jerk," she says without a pause.
"Can't you and Collins just ignore each other? You seem to be doing that well enough with Jaha." He gives her a nudge with his elbow. "Keep this up and I'm the only one you'll have left."
She lets out a laugh, shaky at best, but she feels something release in her chest. "Oh, now you're just trying to depress me."
He laughs. It's such a deep laugh, a man's laugh that comes right from his stomach. It's such a warm sound that Clarke turns towards it, blinking. She often forgets that, while Leos are stubborn pains in the ass, they can be incredibly affectionate and loyal. Their plant is the sun and now Clarke understands why: when you're around them you can't help but feel their heat, their warmth, their –
"I just miss them. My family." The confession comes from her lips not just because it's true, but because she wants him to stay; she wants the two of them to keep talking. Being alone right now, it feels like it would kill her. If she closes her eyes she can see her apartment, crappy and cramped, but it was home. She can smell the sterile alcohol scent from her mother's hands, and Bellamy's laugh reminds her so much of her father's – when he laughed, he threw his head right back, even when it wasn't that funny. "We just – we never have any time. Y'know, we're either looking for food or stopping Murphy from becoming psychotic or arguing about the Grounders. There's never any time just to – just to miss them."
"Maybe that's a good thing," he murmurs. His eyes are half-lowered, but they peek out from under his dark eyelashes. "I heard – about your father. I'm sorry."
"Thank you. I heard, too." She lifts her head. "About your mom – I'm sorry."
He lifts a shoulder.
"My dad – he was a Sagittarius. They say they're guided by luck, but-" She swallows, deciding to laugh instead. "He was vibrant too. And positive and optimistic. But reckless. Typical Sagittarius." Her hand goes to her face. "What was your mom?"
It isn't an unusual question; back on the Ark, it was a standard when you meet someone new. In truth, it's really the Geminis fault; they're always on the look-out for their soul mates. He lifts a leg, wrapping an arm round it. "She was strong. She was never very soft, not when I got older, especially when Octavia was little. I feel bad for my sister, because she never got to see our mother when she was happy. Or when she wasn't stressed. She became hard." He looks away again. "She fought tooth-and-nail for us. If I hadn't interfered, then Octavia probably wouldn't have been found."
"She sounds..." Clarke's not really sure what to say. She can hardly say she's mothering. "She sounds like she would have done well down here."
"Probably."
She clears her throat, wanting to get off this topic. "Actually – I meant, what star sign was she?"
He lifts his shoulders. "Does it matter?"
Up on the Ark it did. For example, Pisces were good at writing, poetry and music – they were the complete opposite of being good leaders (so of course, there were a lot of them in the group of delinquents) and steered in that direction as a career; Scorpios were pushed towards the sciences because they were naturally good at them; Cancers were excellent investors. Everyone's star sign was registered by the council, and certain ones were pushed in certain paths. It seemed to work. Society hadn't collapsed anyway.
But down here? Down here everyone is busy trying to survive, looking for the next meal and praying the Grounders don't try attacking. Down here, does it really matter what time of year you were born?
"No," she says. She lifts her head to the sky, where the stars are peeking out. "It doesn't matter one bit."
"Bell doesn't believe in the whole star sign thing."
Octavia's sitting in the drop ship, chewing on the boar meat. She flicks her hair back, watching Clarke tend a cut on Monty's arm.
"Really?" Monty asks.
She shakes her head vigorously; Clarke's learnt that Octavia doesn't do anything at half-speed. "You do?"
"Hell yes!" Jasper calls from the side. "It says Monty and I are destined to be best buds for life!" He and Monty share a look, doing their little hand-slap thing. Octavia and Clarke's eyes meet, but both have smiles on their faces. Monty is a Virgo and Jasper is Cancer; both of them are stereotypical of their signs.
"Why doesn't he believe in them?" Clarke asks Octavia. She hides her face, paying more attention Monty's arm.
Octavia shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think our mother did, and it sort of rubbed off on Bell. 'Course, when I had a hissy fit he would blame it on the fact I was a Cancer – all emotion." She looks at Clarke. "Why d'you ask?"
"No reason," she answers quickly. Too quickly, if Octavia's face is anything to go by.
Turns out, Finn's girlfriend is a pretty decent mechanic. With Monty's help, they're working on designing a radio. "What star sign are you?" Clarke asks one afternoon, when the sheets of rain sends everyone hurrying in the drop ship or their tents.
"Aquarius," says Raven and grins. "I know, right on the nose, isn't it?" Clarke has to agree: Aquarius' are intellectually-driven, and respect other people's opinions; they're also known for being incredibly resourceful. Raven couldn't be anything else. "What are you?"
"Gemini."
Raven quirks an eyebrow. "Y'know, that doesn't surprise me. You don't have the arrogance of a Leo, and you're more decisive than a Libra. You're good at communicating. You get your point across."
"Not many people know anything about Geminis apart from the fact they're meant to be searching for their soul mates." Clarke leans against the table, running a hand over her hair.
"You met yours?" Raven is busy peering into the wires of the make-shift radio, so she's not looking at her. Clarke feels the electricity in the words though, and her mind goes to Finn. He's with Raven, but he's still attempted to talk to her, and Clarke's taken to turning in the other direction if she spots him first. Libras are great people, but they can be annoyingly indecisive. Hurtfully indecisive.
Clarke likes Raven: the girl's got a non-nonsense attitude; she gets things done. They could be better friends if –
"No," she says. "Probably not much chance now, unless the Ark lands successfully."
"Do you believe in them?"
Almost as if she doesn't notice she's done it, Clarke sees Raven glance towards the door. Finn is there, chatting with Jasper, leaning against the wall. Clarke wonders if her soul mate would have hurt her as much as he did, if they would cause an ache in her chest that seems to take hours to shake. Or would they make it hurt worse?
She doesn't answer.
An illness sweeps through the camp, the first since they've arrived. Many people fall ill, including Clarke herself. She shakes it off fairly quickly, as do Bellamy, Finn, and Raven. Wells suffers more, as does Jasper, Monty and a few other kids. Including - especially Octavia.
Clarke watches Bellamy take care of her. For once, he forgets about maintaining his control over the delinquents, forgets about making sure there's enough food and supplies; he doesn't even bother to sneer at Wells. His entire focus is on Octavia. One or two kids have died from this, mainly because no one knew what was happening until it was too late, so Clarke understands Bellamy's attentiveness. Octavia is so hot that beads of sweat fall off her face, and Bellamy is constantly getting cool water to dab over her.
By this point most of the kids are better, so it's quiet. Clarke stays though, in case any of them take a turn. She brews a tea that's meant to help with illness, and even though Bellamy's better she tries to give him one. He hasn't eaten since Octavia's fallen ill, and he simply waves a hand at her. She finds herself watching him when she remains stationary.
"You need sleep-"
"Later," he says through cracked lips. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, larger than normal.
"I can watch her if-"
"My sister," he says, teeth gritted together. He looks fierce, a wolf bearing its fangs. "My responsibility."
Clarke nods and leans back against the wall, keeping watch. They are the only ones awake, and keep each other company throughout the night. They don't use words: they simply ask and answer in looks. It's what annoys Wells the most, she knows: how she and Bellamy can say a million things just by looking at each other.
She sees Bellamy touch Octavia's forehead, leaning over her. "Clarke," he says, his voice creaking higher.
She is by his side, reaching over his hand to put her own on Octavia's head. Bellamy is silent as she monitors the movement of his sister's chest. "She's over the worst," Clarke says, and feels the air round them fizzle out. "She'll be okay."
His face breaks; that's the only way to describe it. His chest heaves for a moment, and it looks like he's going to burst into tears. Instead he settles for flinging his arms round her. Neither of them are particularly touchy-feely people, but this time it feels natural – feels like the most natural thing in the world, and she wraps her own round him, allowing herself to be pulled in.
"Thank you," he whispers into her neck.
Her urge is to brush off the compliment, but somehow that doesn't feel right; feels like she's dismissing his thank you and, when Bellamy Blake thanks you, you don't refuse it. "You're welcome."
They move away but are still close to one another, and as Bellamy's arms brush against her, she feels a spark in her chest. It's unexpected, makes her body jerk; and this makes Bellamy look at her. "What?"
"I-"
The truth is, she's unsure what to say, how to describe what she just felt. Thankfully she doesn't have to answer, because that's when Octavia speaks.
"Bellamy?" Her voice could be blocked out by a light wind it's so faint; but Bellamy, who would be able to hear her over a thunderstorm, whirls round.
"O? How you doing?" He bends down, lightly running his thumb across her forehead, tucking a strand of hair away.
"Thirsty," she murmurs. Her eyes search the background, momentarily pausing on Clarke.
Even though there is water in a bowl, Clarke leaps towards the exit. "I'll get you some," she says, and hurries down the ladder without looking at back.
The radios Raven create advance into a video-system. They begin to talk to the council – well, she and Wells do. Bellamy waves a hand at her suggestions for him to talk to them. "I'll let the Prince and Princess handle it," he says.
"Fine," Wells says in his deep voice. "But the next time you bitch about the privileged getting all the glory, don't say we didn't ask you." Clarke is impressed by his point, and sees Bellamy scowl at this.
The council are genuinely concerned over the Grounder threats. Wells is still wanting to talk to them, but his father preaches caution; they don't want them to do anything until they get down to Earth.
Well, that's not exactly true. Kane talks about a nuclear base a few miles from where their camp is. "There could be some supplies there," he suggests. "If you can't get to Mount Weather, I would suggest trying there."
She, Bellamy and Wells have a meeting about it later. "It's clear we have to go," Wells says.
"Well done, Captain Obvious," mutters Bellamy.
Wells frowns, tapping his fingers on the table. "I take it that you're wanting to go?"
"Hell yeah. Someone has to." He lifts his chin up a notch. "I'm not afraid of the Grounders."
"Yeah right," Wells grumbles.
"I don't see you volunteering," Bellamy snaps. "Or do you want to wait for your daddy to rescue you?"
As usual, Clarke steps in before they start properly arguing. "As productive as this is guys, I suggest we get moving." She glances out the door, seeing the white light beginning to come through the gathering clouds. "It's still early. If we leave now we can make it back today."
"'We'?" Bellamy repeats.
"I'm coming with you."
To her, the decision has already been made. But Wells instantly protests.
"You can't go."
"Why not?"
"It's not safe."
"Oh, so you were perfectly happy for me to go-"
"Would you just shut up and think for a moment?" he demands, turning to face the older boy. "You're replaceable. Clarke's the only one here with medical training. If we lose her we have no one else."
"So what are you saying Wells? That I have to stay here and sit around like a housewife?"
Bellamy smirks, though she thinks it's more to do with the fact that she's arguing with Wells; it always amuses him. "You have the hair for it."
"Shut up."
"Clarke," Wells interrupts. "Can I talk with you for a moment? Alone?"
"I'm sorry, am I not privileged enough for this conversation?" Bellamy puts on a hurt expression, holding a hand up to his chest.
"Go get some supplies together," Clarke commands, pointing. "I'll meet you by the gate."
Bellamy makes a sweeping bow with his body, and despite herself she feels her mouth twitch – no, she really shouldn't find that funny. Her expression must give something away because Bellamy shoots her a grin and Wells bristles. He leaves and she turns to face Wells, crossing her arms. "So?"
"Clarke, don't go. It's dangerous."
"This is Earth; everything's dangerous. If the council is right and there are supplies, Bellamy can't carry them by himself."
"So let someone else go with him – Jasper or Spacewalker-"
"Why shouldn't I go with him?"
"Who says he's not going to get distracted? Or just leave you somewhere? I mean-"
"Bellamy's not like that. Look, I trust him, okay?"
Wells stares at her. "You can't be serious."
She is. Has trusted him, really, ever since he sat down after she told him leave all those months ago.
She feels her own body heave a sigh. "Like it or not, Bellamy's one of us. We're a council, and it only works with three of us." This had been agreed by Wells, especially since needed an odd number to vote. "I want to go with him, okay?"
"Why?"
She hears the iciness in his tone, and forces herself to remain calm. "I've been cooped up in the camp for a while now. I wouldn't mind having an explore." She shrugs, acts like that's the only reason for wanting to go. She also acts like she can't see Bellamy's smirk when she reaches him, or the fact it barely leaves his face for the first few miles.
It takes them a few hours, but they finally find the bunker. Unfortunately it's a mess: water has made a river along the floor, and there is a moss in the corners. "Yeah," murmurs Clarke, more to herself. "This would be a great place for us to stay."
"Yeah, if we were reptiles." He lets out a frustrated growl. "Jeez, there's nothing here! No blankets, no – no medical equipment-"
His voice is getting louder. Clarke glances up the stairs to the door. "Bell-"
"C'mon Clarke! Can you honestly defend them? Your mom, Wells' dad – they screwed us! They gave us nothing to help us – when winter comes we'll freeze, that's if the Grounders don't catch us first-"
"Bellamy-" She reaches, touches his shoulder for a second before he shakes her off. "Calm down-"
"How are we going to do this Clarke?" His voice lowers, and this is when she hears the tremor. "We need to keep everyone alive. How the hell are we going to do that?"
She thinks, instead of his loud voice and harsh tone, of the way he is around the kids. Not just the guys that he jokes with; the way he is with Charlotte, who seeks him out when she's feeling scared. He's let her fall asleep beside him, tucking his arm round her shoulders. He's constantly on the look-out for Octavia too, and though the girl whines, Clarke knows she would be lost without her brother.
"You care for them," she murmurs.
But he doesn't hear her, and perhaps that's for the best. He kicks over a barrel and liquid spews out. She's about to comment on just how incredibly helpful he's being when she sees him bend down. He shines his torch on the ground, and she holds back a gasp. "Are they-"
"Guns." Bellamy looks up, grinning. "Now we're talking."
Because it's Bellamy, he insists on training her how to use a gun before they make their way back. Of course, he was a guard, so he hits the bulls-eye every time. "Is that supposed to impress me?" she asks after he's done this for the fifth time, once again correcting her movements.
"I've impressed you from the moment we landed Princess. Admit it."
"You wish." She turns away. "We should get back. They'll start getting concerned if we don't return."
"Wouldn't want to worry Jaha."
"Very funny." Clarke grabs Bellamy's bag, but she doesn't expect the weight in it. She stumbles, and half of his supplies tumble out of it.
"Nice work Princess. Not used to hard labour?"
"Have you ever thought of starring in a comedy club? It sounds like your dream. Not that you'd be good at it or anything, but-" Her voice dies away – not slowly, but like the snap of a branch. Her hands – they know the feel of that cover, the material. Carefully she picks it up, feeling the familiar weight in her arms, like a mother knows her baby. She doesn't shine the light on it at first; instead she smells it, and –
And she feels her skin prickle because she remembers, oh how clearly she remembers: her dad's voice calling out from the shower; her mother's hands as the moved across her hair, plaiting it, even though she hated it; the smell of pasta sauce when she walked through the door; that feeling as she would wake up in the morning, her face pressed against the pillow, on the edge of consciousness. How one of the first things she would reach for would be the book, because – it gave her some assurance, that –
That there was something more: some grand plan, some purpose, even when she thought that was the last thing she wanted.
She lifts her face. "Where did you find this?"
"Under a table," he murmurs. He's staring at her, the stillness she's ever seen him be.
"Did you know it was mine?"
"Your dad's name was in the front."
Tears blur her eyes. "So why – why didn't you give this to me?"
"I'm sorry, I-" He looks away. "I was just waiting for the right time."
She swallows, her throat aching, and straightens up. "We met before, on the Ark," she whispers. "Do you remember?"
"Of course I do."
"Then – why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you?" When it's clear that's not going to work he gives another shrug, and it's like he's looking anywhere but at her. "Did it matter?"
"Yes." She steps forward, actually grateful for the darkness at this point. "It mattered Bellamy. You took the time to talk to me – you tried – you did help me. And-"
"And what?" he asks when she doesn't speak.
She's looking at him, tries to count the freckles across his face, constellations in their own right. "You know I'm a Gemini, don't you?"
"I do."
"And you're a Leo."
"So?" He seems taller to her in that moment, like one of those statues in the history books. His chin even lifts a little. "Clarke, if you want to do something, just-"
Her lips swallow the rest of his sentence.
She looks at the stars a lot from down here. It's easier.
She traces the constellations. She can see the archer some nights, her father's sign; other nights she looks for her mother's sign, the one of the ram. When she and Bellamy are curled outside under a blanket, completely defying their own rules of staying inside the walls, she points them out to him.
"They're always there, aren't they?" she murmurs. He kisses her shoulder.
It's a week later when she finally sees it. They are lying in his tent, dawn just about breaking across the sky. They've not slept, not properly, but Clarke doesn't complain about it, not anymore. Sleep is now a hindrance, something that keeps her away from him.
"So," Bellamy murmurs, his lips buried in her hair. "My bet is they'll be two Grounder attacks, five snide comments from Jaha, and about a dozen longing looks from Collins-"
"My God, what would I do without your daily predictions-"
"C'mon, I'm basically right-"
"How about we spend our last hour in bed doing something...fun?" She rolls over so she's on top of him, and sees a grin slowly enveloping Bellamy's face. She never believed she would be this type of girl, one so casual about sex, but – sleeping with Bellamy is different than sleeping with Finn. It's just right.
"What's that smile for, Princess?"
"Nothing." Clarke bends her head down, trying to avoid the sight of Bellamy laughing at her, trying to hide her own expression. She bends down and plants kisses on his chest, enjoying its smoothness –
"What?" he asks when she stops.
She reaches forward, touching his chest. Her fingers lie right in the centre of his chest, as if someone else placed it there. "What is that?" she whispers. She lifts her head. "Did you-" She swallows, leaning back. "Are you-" Swallows again. "What star sign are you, Bellamy? When's your birthday?"
His eyes shift from hers. "June 21st."
Her body leans back. "But – you lied-"
"I never said I was a Leo. I just let you believe it."
"But – you knew I was a Gemini. Why didn't you just tell me?"
His lips go thin, and he sits up; she instantly recognises that he's about to go into speech-mode. "I didn't want you to be with me because of some – some greater destiny or some spiel. I wanted you to pick me over Jaha and Collins because you wanted me. That you didn't pick me because of some chance we could be-"
"But Bellamy-" She hits him in the chest, right where his birthmark is. "You knew, didn't you? You knew I was a Gemini, so you were looking-" She remembers then, the first time they had sex. She had been a little nervous about being completely naked in front of him, and had tried to undress as hurriedly as possible. He had made her slow down though, holding onto her arms as she had gone to take off her trousers. She knows that exact moment he saw it, because a huge grin had encased his entire face, and he had kissed her then, so hard and deep that Clarke completely forgot about being nervous that they were having sex for the first time –
She looks again, just to be sure. His mark is dead on centre of his chest, the shape of a horse-shoe. Her father's smile floats back to her: "It's good luck," he had told her. "A horse-shoe shaped with the round end at the bottom is lucky."
When his fingers touch her mark she feels a spark zip through her chest, electricity flowing through her veins. His eyes linger over it. They are like mirror-images, both of their hands touching the same spot on the other's chest, the exact same mark: a horse-shoe, with the ends pointing upwards. "I always knew you were my destiny," he murmurs. "This just proves it."
The thing about soul mates is this:
You don't need to worry about finding them. Fate takes care of it.
A/N: In case you were interested, birthdays and star signs as follows:
Clarke – 7th June (Gemini)
Bellamy – 21st June (Gemini)
Wells – 1st August (Leo)
Finn – 26th September (Libra)
Octavia – 30th June (Cancer)
Raven – 4th February (Aquarius)
Jasper – 15th July (Cancer)
Monty – 10th September (Virgo)
Jake – 21st December (Sagittarius)
Abby – 24th March (Aries)
Marcus – 8th May (Taurus)
Aurora – 12th January (Capricorn)
Jaha – 31st July (Leo)
1) So in case that was lost in translation, Clarke and Bellamy are soul mates, and the mark was a horse shoe.
2) I know Lincoln isn't in this story. I wanted to put him in it, but this story is already longer than normal and it felt like I was going off the point too much. Just put it down to this story being extremely AU.
3) I absolutely loved writing the Bellamy/Wells scenes. I kinda love their relationship even though in this story they basically argue all the time. I have a head-canon bromance with these two, which really sucks because clearly that's never going to happen. A part of me wishes Wells had stayed in, not so that he could play part in a love-triangle out, but so he and Bellamy could have a total best friend, love-hate thing going.
4) So I had a lot of fun figuring out the star signs and birthdays of these characters. I picked the 7th of June for Clarke because the number seven is lucky (that's true, isn't it? Because my mum and I had an argument about this. Seven is a lucky number, right?); and I chose the 21st for Bellamy because – I just love the number twenty one, for some reason, and I guess that means he's three times lucky ;-) I planned out the star signs before I completely wrote the fic, so I included the star signs of people who weren't in the fic. If you're more interested in the reasons I picked star signs for certain characters, PM me or look on the website mentioned in the disclaimer.
So I know I'm officially begging, but remember, it IS my birthday (oh my God, I've had my last 'fun' birthday – I'm getting old guys!) so some reviews would be really lovely.
Hours to make. Seconds to comment.
PLEASE REVIEW!