They knew they couldn't stay at the camp.
Clarke knew it as she was shoved off to the side of another meeting, and as Bellamy was shut outside the door completely. She knew he knew it by the look he gave her when she would stomp out of the meetings, as he leaned against the door like he always did when the door closed before he got more than a toe in the room. He'd lean against the wall and listen in, and she knew he'd hear her voice, the one that everyone else talked over, the one that no one seemed to trust except him, and every time she'd walk out of the door he'd be slouching against the wall, eyebrows raised, looking up at only her.
"So," she'd grit out, every time. "Dinner?"
"Mhmm," he'd hum, nodding, and following her out. He'd walk a bit behind her, keeping an eye on everyone they walked past, as he knew she was only taking in vague shapes and figures, stewing over the meeting she just left.
They knew they couldn't stay. They just weren't quite sure where they could go yet.
"There's always the back to the dropship," Bellamy suggested, defeated, one night, in the corner of the mess hall.
"Everything around there is dead, we'd have to go miles out for food." Clarke reminded him. She pictured their tents pitched amongst the ashes, hers by the door of the dropship and his by the spot he fought with the grounder, and decided not to share any other reasons she might not want to go back there.
He knew they couldn't go back there either. It was too close. To Camp Jaha and the grounder camp. It wouldn't be safe to go back.
"Right. Okay," he nodded. "We'll figure something else out."
They decided to head east.
It was where Lincoln and Octavia had been planning to go anyway. It was a better plan than any other one they had come up with, so they spread it around and started packing.
They looked like an even smaller group than Clarke had realized they were when they were all shuffling out of Camp Jaha together. Only forty seven or so of them left, trickling out in groups of two or three, clumping outside the gate, waiting for the order to head out.
Clarke looked at the small group of people and stopped in their tracks. Bellamy stopped beside her, and nudged her shoulder with his hand.
"We did the best we could here," he said to her. "We'll do better now."
He walked out the gates, and nodding once more, glancing back one more time, and headed after him.
The ocean wasn't what she expected. It smelled bad for one thing, though that wasn't a problem for her. Working in the med bay in the heat of summer without the medicines she was used to didn't exactly create the most pleasant smelling environment.
The sand felt either too hot or two cold on her bare feet, so she took to keeping her boots one, even though bits of sand would fly up and filter in, eroding away at the soles of her feet, leaving them red and raw. She would probably get used to it.
She was nervous moving there. She could tell Bellamy was too. She saw him surveying the perimeters of their newly established camp far more than the camp stationed around the dropship. He started taking double shifts every night for watch. Clarke finally had to threaten Miller into taking a watch for Bellamy so she could drag him back to his tent and force him to sleep.
"We don't know who's around these parts, Clarke."
"Yeah," she agreed. "But you'll be of no use to our defense if you're dead on your feet. Don't be stupid. Get some sleep."
She couldn't sleep most nights either.
(She knew that was a part of the reason Bellamy had insisted on taking those double shifts. Might as well do something other than lying on your cot, picturing the faces of all the kids you couldn't save).
She couldn't take double watch after yelling at Bellamy for it, so she took to the ocean.
She started slipping out of her tent (after she knew Bellamy had already had already gone back to his own tent) and making her way down to the shore.
One night she crept out, leaving her shoes behind and let her toes squish in the sand. She was used to how it felt, it was even starting to seem like a comfort. A grainy blanket enveloping her feet, reminding her where she was. You're on the ground. You led your people to the ocean. She felt it wrap around her feet with each step and sighed, breathing the scent of the waves in deeply.
It still didn't smell good, but she was used to it now.
She stopped short, slipping a bit as her feet sunk unevenly into the sand below, as she saw Bellamy sitting on the ground, toes just a few inches from the water. She stomped over and sat next to him, stretching her arms out behind her.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.
Bellamy just scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her. Yeah, he could see through her.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, him leaning back on his elbows looking at the stars, her resting on her hands, ignoring the aching in her writs from the awkward angle they were shoved into the sand, watching him watch the sky.
"I'm starting to see why you come out here every night." He looked over at her. "Come on," he teased. "Don't act like you didn't know I knew. We keep track of each other. We take care. It's what we do."
He'd gotten quiet and sincere as his words trailed on, joking tone leaving his voice with each beat.
"Better than wearing myself thin patrolling the perimeter for hours every night."
"So, what do you do?" he asked. "Instead of sleeping?"
She stood up and brushed the sand off her shorts. She held her hand out to Bellamy who just eyed it, confused but curious.
"I swim." She waggled her fingers at him, waiting for him to put his hand on hers.
"No way, Clarke."
"Oh, come on," she pouted. "It feels good."
He looked like he was considering it. He wanted to, she could tell. He was smiling at her, jaw dropped the tiniest bit, but there was something holding him back. His brow furrowed for a fraction of a second and he tore his gaze away from her.
"You go ahead. I'll wait here."
"You're not just going to sit here and keep watch while I swim. Come on, Bellamy."
He sighed and muttered something too quiet for her to hear.
"What was that?"
He rolled his eyes up to her. "I can't swim."
She could have sworn that if it wasn't night, and she had something more than the pale light of the moon and the distant torches from the camp, she would see a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
She shrugged. "I can teach you." He didn't say anything. "Oh come on, I swear I won't let you drown." She didn't wait for him this time, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his arm pulling him up next to her.
Reluctantly he peeled his t-shirt off and waited for her.
"You gonna swim in jeans?" she laughed.
Blushing again, he started to undo the buttons on his jeans and stepped out of them at the same time as Clarke slid out of her shorts. She stood in just her underwear and a tank top while he stood in nothing but his boxers.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the water. He hissed in shock as the cold water splashed over his feet but she tugged him in deeper.
"It's better once you go under," she promised. She left him in waist high water and waded herself out a bit so she could fully submerge herself under. She popped up again with a big smile on her face.
"Come on," she said. "You're not going to learn unless you give it a try."
"As far as I know, Griffin this is all one big ploy to lure me to my death so you can be the one true leader," he teased.
"As if I would want to be on my own."
She blushed at her own confession. It wasn't just that she couldn't lead on her own. It was that she didn't even want to anymore. She was a better leader when Bellamy was leading with her. It all made more sense.
"Alright," he gave in, stepping out farther. "Teach me."
She reached a hand out and he took it, watching her pull him to her nearly effortlessly.
"Kick your legs." He kicked both legs out and nearly went under. "Alternate them, back and forth and back and forth. That'll be most of the work."
She took her hand back and he immediately reached back for it.
"You're going to need that in a moment," she said smiling. "Your legs won't last long on their own."
He noticed that she was pushing her arms forwards and backwards at her sides, so he mimicked the movement and found it much easier to stay afloat.
"How'd you learn to swim?" he asked after he got used to the movement.
"Trial and error."
They stayed like that a few minutes. She was waiting to make sure he wouldn't lose his rhythm and slip under, but when he seemed to get the hang of it she rolled her eyes. She should have known he would pick it up as quickly as he picked up everything else.
Testing him, she pushed her hand forward and splashed water on his chest.
"Hey!" he protested, splashing her back.
She threw her head back and laughed, splashing him more, ducking under water every time he moved to retaliate.
While he eyes were squinted in laughter, he snaked out an arm and tugged her closer. His hand was on her upper arm, and their feet and knees kept knocking as they kicked to stay afloat. She moved to duck underwater again, to swim away but his grip was firm.
"Uh oh," he teased. He reached his other hand out and dragged his entire arm against the top of the water, sending a giant splash of water all over her face. His laugh boomed out around her as she sputtered in shock.
She pushed herself even closer to him, her tank top sliding up against his stomach. His hand on her arm loosened as he laughed, and taking advantage of the opportunity, she pushed her hand out and used them to keep her afloat as she wrapped her legs around his waist so he was trapped.
"Got you now, Blake," was her only warning before she put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him underwater.
With her legs wrapped around his waist, she went under with him. She felt her fingers reaching out, testing to see how his hair would feel under water. She felt his hand push through the water and slide up under the bit of her tank top and grip onto the small bit of her back that had been exposed.
She knew she couldn't stay under much longer, any breath she had within her was gone at his touch.
She brought her legs down from him, replaced them with her hands and started kicking herself back up to the surface, hands dragging along his chest as she floated upward.
He popped up only a moment after she did, and she felt the tips of his fingers trace along her leg as he followed her to the surface.
"See?" she said, breathless. "I wasn't gonna let you drown."
Bellamy was breathing heavily. He swam to wear he could stand, Clarke trailing behind him. She couldn't quite reach the bottom where he stood, but she kept her legs kicking, lazily now, knowing she could just push off the bottom if need be.
"You okay?" she asked when his breathing didn't slow. He wasn't looking at her, and she was worried she had pushed him too far, made him give up too much control. "I'm sorry if I—"
She was cut off by his arm reaching out and pulling her into him, holding her so she didn't have to tread water. He hesitated slightly, only slightly, before he dipped his head down to hers. He tasted like nuts and berries and salt water, and his hair was dripping droplets of water onto her forehead. She slid her legs up against his, smiling at how easy it was, floating in water with Bellamy supporting her, and then for the second time that night, she wound her legs around his waist.
He pulled away just as she was about to push herself closer. "Do you want to go back to camp?" he asked.
"Nah," she whispered, bringing her face close to his. "They can survive without us a bit longer." And with that, she closed the distance between them, curling her fingers into his wet hair, holding him close so she couldn't float away.