"May we meet again."
Clarke's words were a whisper on the wind, vanishing into the air as swiftly as they had been released from her lips. Just a week ago, she had run to embrace Bellamy at this very spot, wracked with undeserved relief after fearing his life had come to an end at her hand. Now, her embrace signified an undoing of that happy reunion; she was leaving him, leaving those she had fought so hard to keep close to her. But it had to be done.
As she held on to him, she tried to seal the moment in time; it was pure, untouchable, as if the events of the last few months had never occurred. As if their comrades still numbered a hundred. As if they were still the innocents they had been when they were sent down here to die, though fate had let some of them live… Clarke wondered whom fate had been kinder to.
But it would never be possible to forget. Clarke had to face what she had done, who she had become. She had to bear the guilt and blame so her people didn't have to. She had to accept that her choices were now how she defined her future, her humanity. If she stayed with her people, it would be too tempting to invent ways of justifying her actions, too easy to pretend that the price they paid had been fair. She would be lying to them, to herself. She wanted to face the truth and keep her mind clear, even if it meant opening new wounds where others had barely begun to heal.
Let go. She told herself. Now. Or else you will have let yourself go.
Her muscles moved of their own accord, or so she told herself. Bellamy was no longer in her arms, and she felt the loss of his warmth immediately. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing the expression on his face, but her eyes betrayed her. She caught his dark eyes burning into hers, one last silent plea for her to stay. In that small moment, her gut churned as the emotions he so openly wore on his face - disappointment, dejection, and worse of all, a glimmer of hope - were etched into her brain. This was one of the wounds that never seemed to heal.
Let go. With all the strength she had left, she tore her eyes from his and let her feet take her away. Her mind went numb, barely registering the grassy plain moving beneath her feet, her vision blurring with the threat of unwanted tears.
No, please. Stay. A breeze softly brushed past her face, dancing through the grass in the direction of the camp.
Murderer. She heard the crunch of stones underfoot, almost like the sound of dry bones...
You need them. The sound of Bellamy's footprints softly cut through the air as he started to walk in the opposite direction.
You killed them. A vision of the mountain men, scarred bodies lying motionless, still warm from the life that had flowed through their bodies moments before...
They need you. The faces of her people flashed through her mind: Monty, Jasper, Raven, her mom, Bellamy...
Each step took her farther from the lives she had done nothing but try to save, from the friends whom she had been through so much with. She was one of them, she needed them… But they're better off without you.
Clarke's feet were moving swiftly now; her mind had succumbed to a mirage of memories; her body was not her own.
You killed them. You killed them all. Visions of the dead raced through her mind, clouding her vision. Wells. Charlotte. Finn. Countless grounder casualties, though nothing weighed more heavily on her than the slaughter of the mountain men. The only home they had known, now turned into an eternal crypt. Within these same woods, only a few miles away, their corpses lay in a mass grave, rotting.
A wave of nausea passed over her, causing her to stumble over a tree root. She caught hold of the tree's trunk and vomited at its base. The sound of strangled sobs met her ears; she realized they were her own. Clarke knew that the noise she was making might draw unwanted attention in these woods, but she didn't care. If danger found her, she deserved whatever retribution it served her. Blood was on her hands. It only seemed fitting that she gave some of hers in return.
Clarke forced herself to stand and take several more steps, unceremoniously seating herself at the base of a neighboring tree. She lifted her gaze towards the sky, that endless void that had once been her home, and watched the afternoon light filter through the leafy canopy. She continued to watch as the beams of light turned golden, then pink. The sunset slowly faded into a gradated indigo, but nothing found her, came to kill her, free her from the guilt. Even as the sky turned ebony and the stars surfaced, she lay there, waiting to die, waiting to live, waiting for some small sign of absolution which would never come.
Thank you for reading the beginning of my first (published) fanfiction! This story picks up right where the S2 finale left off and will elaborate on how I imagine Clarke and Bellamy would handle a) their gruesome victory over the mountain men & b) being separated from each other yet again (boo) after they had finally reached a point in their Earth residency to live somewhat 'normally' with the remaining Arkers. Some new locations and characters will introduced, all in line with the current plot of the show, however, A.L.I.E. is a mystery I will leave to be solved by the much more talented writers of the show. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Enjoy the story while we count down the days to S3 - 1.21.16!