Small break from my hiatus. Had to write this after watching "The 100".

"Where do you think you're going?"

Clarke whirled around, almost spilling the towel and makeshift toiletries in her arms. She caught the little bottle of honey and sand scrub just before it clattered onto the rough floor of her tent, but Monty's aloe shampoo wasn't so lucky. Bending to pick it up, she raised her head and sent Bellamy a glare. She straightened and put a hand on her hip, balancing her stuff in her other palm. "Where does it look like I'm going?"

"Like you're going to finish your mud bath," he smirked, giving her a once-over. She was still covered in grime from when she had not-so-gracefully tripped over a root while trapping earlier this morning.

"You're half right," she said, making to move past him. "I'm going to the spring to clean up."

He caught her arm before she could get around him. "Alone?"

"Of course I'm going alone. I'm going to bathe."

"Not by yourself you're not. There are Grounders everywhere, Clarke. At least take Raven with you."

"She's busy working on the ship with Monty."

"Okay fine. What about Octavia?"

"No one's seen her since this morning." She didn't need to mention who she thought his sister was with. They both knew.

He sighed and his eyes clenched shut. "There has to be someone who can go with you. What about Jasper?"

Her jaw fell open. "You're kidding, right?" she gaped. "You want Jasper —innocent little Jasper who froze last week when he accidentally saw Monroe's bra and didn't move for fifteen minutes— to keep watch while I bathe naked?"

"So maybe it's not the best idea…"

"It's a horrible idea, Bellamy! Look, I'll just go by myself. Your list of candidates is dwindling; there's just no one available. So unless you want Finn to come with me—"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. Spacewalker is no bodyguard. I'll go with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter, Princess? I said I'm going with you."

"And I said I can look after myself."

"Oh really? So if a Grounder comes out of nowhere and rushes at you, you're going to pull a gun out of the water and shoot him down? Be reasonable, Clarke! We need you around here. You can't protect yourself and shower at the same time, so either suck it up and stay dirty, or quit complaining and let me watch your back."

"Fine," she relented, a low grumble mixing with her stubborn exhale. "Just so long as it's not only me you're keeping an eye on."

The spring was breathtaking. It chirped happily as the waters gathered from higher up the mountain and drained over the edges of the pool that gathered under the delicious shade of interwoven trees. A few leaves littered the surface here and there, but they followed the current and journeyed downstream.

Clarke slipped into the water and let out a breathy sigh. The pool stopped at her hips so she slid further down, relishing the sensation of bubbles that tickled her skin. It had been so long since she allowed herself the luxury of a shower, let alone a bath. The feel of the fresh spring water around her immediately lulled her into a state of bliss and relaxation. She couldn't even fathom how amazing it would feel to be clean again.

Looking back over her shoulder to ensure Bellamy was at the edge of the forest, back turned, where she'd left him, she rose to the bank and gingerly grabbed the body scrub from on top of her towel and clothes. She scooped some out with her fingers and rubbed it all over. The diluted honey was stickier than the pasty soap they had on the Ark, but worked in keeping the sand together, and effectively scrubbed the mud and filth from Clarke's pale skin.

Once she'd done her legs, she waded back into the water and washed the gunk and grime off them before resuming cleaning her torso and arms. As she bathed, she felt her spirits lift. She had forgotten how amazing it felt to be cleansed!

She worked at her face, gently massaging the sand across her cheeks. Rinsing the residue off her hands, she cupped them together and gathered water to splash across her face. It stilled enough in her hands that she was able to catch her reflection for the first time since the landing. She looked different, but that was to be expected. It was the tiredness she noticed the most, followed by the relief of the semblance of order she, Bellamy, and the others had created, the gratitude that she wasn't alone, the shred of peace she had found in this spring…

And the chaos that erupted when she saw someone else's face in the water.

Bellamy picked at the grass as he sat cross-legged on the ground. He tried to focus on tearing the blades into confetti pieces rather than the splashing behind him. He'd caught the sound of what he could only describe as a contented moan from Clarke when she immersed, and was now trying everything he could to not think about her bathing. He and Clarke were the surrogate leaders of the rag-tag group of misfits at camp. It wouldn't be… proper for him to think of her in a way that was anything but professional.

And so he ripped apart the earth. He did not think about how he'd briefly seen her clothes scattered hazardously on the bank and that they would look better on his tent floor. He did not imagine the shape of her hips or the way her nipples were probably hard from the chilly water of the spring. He wasn't picturing the way her hair slicked back and trailed down her back, following the dip of her curves or how her back would arch as he followed that path.

Nope. His mind was clear.

So clear that when Clarke's scream pierced the air, he was on his feet in a second, gun poised as he turned around, aimed, shot.

Missed.

Thank god he did. His target had Clarke in his arms, back pressed to his front as he held her to him like a shield. She was struggling and thrashing in his clutches, cursing and yelling at her captor with everything she had. Her arms were pinned at her sides and every bit of her was exposed, which doubled her fury.

Bellamy wasn't given the grace to take her in though. He had his gun trained at the man, feeling his own rage building to a crux as the bastard tightened his hold on Clarke.

"Murphy," he snarled. "Let her go."

"Nice to see you too, Bellamy," Murphy said, grunting as he tried to keep Clarke contained.

She squirmed and flailed harder. "Let go of me, you son of a—"

"Quite the mouth on her now," Murphy sneered, his eyes penetrating deep into Bellamy. "She get that from you?"

"Let her go, Murphy," Bellamy hissed again.

The traitor pulled out the knife that'd been given to him the day of his banishment and held it to Clarke's throat. She and Bellamy froze. "I don't think you're in any position to make demands."

"Okay, easy Murphy," Bellamy said, the anger in his voice replaced now with fear. "Don't do anything brash."

"You mean like you did to me when you strung me up and tried to have me hanged!"

"That was a mistake. Please, just let Clarke go and we can talk—"

"Talking isn't good enough, Bellamy!" Murphy bellowed. "I was almost killed because of you! You and her!" he growled into Clarke's ear and pressed the knife closer to her neck. "I want revenge!"

"You can have it, okay?" Bellamy said. He chucked his gun aside. "There, I'm unarmed now. You can do whatever you want to me, just let Clarke go."

A cruel, derisive laugh tore from Murphy's mouth, making every nerve in Bellamy's body go numb. "You don't get it, do you, Bell? I want you to suffer. Make you writhe in agony like you made me. I want you to grieve, to feel hopeless and lost and worthless like you made me feel!"

"Then do it! Torture me all you want, but for god's sake, leave Clarke out of this! She has nothing to do with you and me!"

"She has everything to do with you and me! The best way to make you suffer, Bellamy Blake, is to hurt the ones closest to you! And since your sister has her Grounder boyfriend to protect her, I had to go for the next best thing." Murphy tugged at Clarke, rearranging her in his arms. He grabbed her waist more firmly with one hand and snaked his other up her stomach to rest on her chest, knife pricking her flesh. Pressing his cheek to hers, her spoke to Bellamy over her shoulder. "Who would've thought the Princess had such a nice body under all that bossiness."

Clarke held herself collected. She breathed shallowly, mindful of the blade pressing into her skin. She kept her eyes clear as she watched Bellamy look on helplessly. He was shaking, from rage or horror or despair, she didn't know. Steeling herself, she kept calm. She would not be Bellamy's catalyst.

Murphy's hands began wandering freely, squeezing her breasts, caressing her sides, and scraping her skin with the knife. Clarke's strong façade slipped for a moment and she squeaked in alarm. Murphy smirked. "Nice voice too. Tell me, Bell, does she scream your name when you fuck her?"

"Stop it," Bellamy said, his voice cracked and desperate. "Please, just stop."

"You've barely begun to feel what I felt," he glowered. "I'm going to make you cry in anguish and beg for mercy."

"I'm already begging! Please, Murphy! I was wrong to let the crowd sweep me away! I should have been reasonable! I should have given you a chance!"

"Yeah, you should've!" Murphy spat. "But you're too late."

Simultaneously, Murphy slashed Clarke's chest and groped between her legs. The pain and sting of the gash and violation brought her stoic wall to rubble and she cried out. Her eyes quickly welled and she watched what suspiciously looked like tears of his own falling down Bellamy's face. His voice was almost non-existent, but she heard him in between the yelps streaming from her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Clarke. This is my fault. I'm so sorry."

A shot rang out and silenced them all.

From behind her, Clarke could feel Murphy stagger. He'd lost the crushing grasp on her and his grip on the knife loosened. The blade sploshed into the water, followed closely by Murphy's body.

Bellamy bolted to his feet and jumped into the spring. He gathered Clarke into his arms, cradling her to him as if Murphy would rise again and rip her from him. But he stayed down, floating motionlessly on his stomach, a blossom of crimson blooming from a bullet hole.

Still grasping at Clarke as if his arms would provide all the protection she needed, he looked up to see Finn emerging from the woods.

"I heard a gunshot earlier. Raven said you were here. I saw the struggle and I could hear Clarke screaming and— oh my god!" His eyes trained on the red waters dripping down Clarke's torso. He couldn't see Clarke's wound since she was flush against Bellamy's chest and the leader was determined to keep it that way.

Finn dropped his gun and jumped into the spring. "Is Clarke okay?" He reached for her but she flinched away. Bellamy glared. Finn retreated. "Sorry… I… I, uh… have a blanket in my pack. Let me get it."

Clarke still hadn't said anything. She clutched at Bellamy almost as desperately as he held her. She'd started shivering and gave a start when Bellamy let go of her to shrug his jacket off.

"It's okay, Princess. I still got ya." He draped the jacket over her shoulders and pulled it tight around her. He tried to look into her eyes, but she kept her gaze forward. So gently he was scared she would break, he lifted her chin. A chill went down his spine at the terror and relief that swam in her eyes. "You alright?"

She kept staring at him like she wasn't sure he was real. It was only when he'd cupped her face and brushed her cheek with his thumb that she started nodding.

Bellamy felt some tension ease off his shoulders. He pressed her forehead back to his chest with a soft hand on her head and rested his chin on her hair. "We're gonna get you out of here."

Finn came back with the blanket and handed it to Bellamy. He watched silently as the leader swaddled Clarke and lifted her into his arms with the utmost care. Even though she had been the woman of his budding romance, he couldn't bring himself to interfere with the way the two gripped each other as if their very lives depended on being anchored together. He suddenly felt very small and insignificant and could only follow quietly as Bellamy carried Clarke back to camp, eyes peering longingly at how he traced soothing circles on her skin and she had her hand fisted in his shirt.