Disclaimer: I don't own any of these beautiful and completely messed uppeople.
Bellamy leaned against a tree, panting. People swarmed around him in a panic, everyone hurrying to get somewhere. His mind was whirling too fast for him to actually put together coherent thoughts, so he didn't try. He wiped off his blade on his pants, the blood blending in with the already gore-saturated cloth. His gun was missing, lost somewhere in the high grass, its magazine empty, its barrel covered in Grounder blood.
The war was vicious. Every battle only ended in more of his friends dying. Jasper had been gone for weeks, one of the first. It was no surprise when Bellamy got the news. Jasper had been running around with reckless abandon ever since Maya's death, but it had gotten worse when a gun was put in his hands. He had been shot in the chest. The arrow lodged in a lung, and the only thing Bellamy could think about when he saw the body was how Jasper had survived a spear just like that when they had first landed on Earth. If he could survive that, Bellamy couldn't help wondering, why couldn't he survive an arrow? The arrow was such a small weapon in comparison, but its accuracy more than made up for its size. It had been difficult, but Bellamy got past it.
Monty was next. Jasper's death hit him hard, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that they had no longer been friends. They hadn't been on speaking terms for a while before, but Monty was too good-hearted to just forget someone like Jasper. A week later, Monty was part of a scouting group that was ambushed. He was shot through the eye. His body was never recovered.
Raven wasn't killed in battle. Despite Abby's warnings, she stubbornly insisted on participating in the war, and her leg gave out on her. The brace was broken, sliced through by a blade, and she was dragged back to camp. Without the brace, she couldn't move without causing excruciating pain. She was stuck in the hospital. She couldn't bare being bedridden, doing nothing, but she couldn't fight anymore and she was unable to help the engineers. She became a wall sentry, sitting at a station with two others for hours on end. Less than two weeks after Monty's death, a sentry standing by Raven was shot. He fell off the wall, knocking Raven off balance as he fell. She went with him. She died on impact.
Wick was killed the day after, in a machinery accident. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Half of Miller's head was taken off by an expertly wielded sword.
Harper took an arrow for Abby, saving her life. Abby was unable to return the favor.
Monroe's spine was broken when a Grounder knocked her off a precipice in the forest. Internal bleeding and blood loss from other wounds finished the job in under a week.
Bellamy tried not to dwell on these, trying to avoid anything that might remind him of them, but it was impossible. They were all part of the original 100, the group of teenagers who managed to survive in a hostile environment for months before the cavalry arrived. The fact that Arkadia existed was part of their legacy. It stood as a reminder that the Skaikru had survived, had carved out a place for themselves in this hellhole. Everywhere he went was a reminder of the friends that he was unable to save.
Somehow, despite her nearly suicidal way of fighting, Octavia was still alive. She was quick and well trained. She knew how to fight like a Grounder-she knew how to fight a Grounder. It helped that Lincoln was always at her side.
Lincoln. Choosing a side had been agonizing for him. He had refrained from fighting altogether until Octavia finally got through to him. Somehow, he was fighting on the side of Pike. Bellamy had no idea what Octavia had said to him to get him to join their side. He had a suspicion that Lincoln was forcing Pike out of his mind, that he thought about the conflict only in terms of Octavia and her safety. All Bellamy knew was that he was grateful, because Lincoln was one hell of a fighter.
Jaha never left the safety of camp. He was embroiled in political struggles, trying to help plan the war. As if war is something you can plan. Chancellor Pike was right there with him, arguing on every point. The Council was small, made up of three more members. No more could be spared from the fight. Jaha's claims that the City of Light could save them from all physical and spiritual pain were not well received. He was ignored by all who heard him, dismissed as a man driven mad by weeks in the wilderness and stress.
Abby stayed in camp as well, as the medical expert. She was overworked and exhausted, but Jackson was unable to get her to sleep until everyone had been treated. Given the enormous quantity of the wounded, she got very little sleep.
Kane tried to strike a balance between fighting and helping Abby. He had become a second assistant, helping when Jackson was unable to, swamped with his own line of wounded. There was surely another reason Kane and Abby stayed around each other so much, but no one remarked on it. No one could afford to.
Bellamy was what you might call a captain, trusted by Pike and almost everyone else. Although he no longer blindly agreed with Pike, he didn't have the time to argue. It was no longer a question of going too far, it was a matter of survival, something Bellamy had too much experience in.
And Clarke. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to prevent the war that Pike's actions set in motion. Lexa ignored her council's pleas and did not kill Wanheda, but Clarke was banned from the Grounder capitol. The words she had for Pike and the rest of Skaikru were not kind. She was imprisoned for a week after her return. But she was soon released. They needed every fighting arm they could get. She tried to go without killing any Grounders at first, only incapacitating and severely wounding those she faced. But this way of fighting almost got her killed several times, when she refused to deal the final blow. Her own people began to despise her for having mercy on the people who were trying to kill them. She finally gave in, started fighting the war as it demanded to be fought.
But every day, Bellamy saw her return a little more tired, a little sadder, a little less hopeful. It broke his heart, but other than shallow interactions in passing, he said nothing to her, and she said nothing to him. He knew she was struggling to forgive him for participating in Pike's raid on the army of the three hundred two months ago. And, knowing her, she probably would never reach a place healthy enough where she could forgive him. He had realized that. So, he ignored his feelings and ignored her.
She did nothing to encourage a change his behavior.
And when he stopped acting like a lovesick puppy, he realized that he didn't want to. She left them when they needed her. She left him, alone, to lead a confused and scared people, alone. When they found her after three months of searching, what did she do? She stayed with the Grounders. She chose Lexa, the very same Grounder who backed out of the deal and left them to die on the mountain. And Clarke stayed with her. Bellamy was still struggling to understand that.
All Clarke did was bring death and destruction. If it wasn't for her and her stupid treaty with a Grounder, she wouldn't have had to pull that lever. Those people who had trusted Bellamy wouldn't have been killed, and Jasper wouldn't have spiralled so far down into hate and bitterness. Clarke could do nothing to change what she had done, who she had killed. And the Grounders could not be trusted. Blood for blood. They were vicious and dangerous. They couldn't be trusted. By extension, neither could Clarke.
So why did Bellamy still feel the way he did?
Now, he was out in the field, not far from Arkadia, surrounded by the stench of blood and death. Bodies littered the ground around him. A few even hung from the branches up above. His arms ached, his head was pounding, but he pushed off the tree and trudged after everyone else, trying to ignore the bodies scattered on his path. The battle was over, for now. The Grounders would return with more than fifty less than they started out with. Bellamy would return with fewer than ten dead, but with empty cartridges and heavy hearts.
They wouldn't be able to do this forever. The Grounders outnumbered them greatly, and they were only able to fight them off with their superior weapon technology. That would soon give out, however, and they would be left with empty guns and a few knives against a host of swords, spears, and arrows. They would all die. It was only a question of when. Bellamy was sure everyone realized that by now, even Pike, although he would never admit it.
As they approached Arkadia, the sign which once stood proudly now sagging dejectedly, the gates opened. They straggled in slowly, the wounded veering off toward the makeshift hospitals, the rest wandering away dejectedly. Bellamy walked aimlessly, not quite sure where he was going, until someone called his name.
He turned. "What?" he asked gruffly.
Jackson slowed to a stop in front of him, trying to catch his breath. He had sprinted over. His hair was limp and dirty, his eyes glassy with exhaustion. The look on his face was all Bellamy needed to figure out the gist of the message he was trying to get across. It was the same face he'd had when he carried the news of Jasper's death. And Monty's. And Raven's, and Miller's, and Harper's, and Monroe's.
Bellamy's eyes widened. He grabbed Jackson roughly by the arms. "Who?" he demanded, desperation welling up inside him. "Is Octavia-?" He couldn't even finish the question.
Jackson shook his head. "Your sister's fine," he said through gulping breaths.
"Then who?" Bellamy yelled. Jackson was freaked out, that much was obvious. It had to be bad if a man so used to gore and death was so worried. Before the poor man could respond, Bellamy had taken off for the medical tent, leaving Jackson in the dust. Bellamy's tired legs were screaming at him, but he didn't stop until he saw the spread of tents that signified the "hospital" Abby had put together.
Bellamy charged through, dodging wounded and winding through tents until he found the center one that Abby used to treat soldiers just off the field. He strode in through the entrance without a second thought, his mouth already open to ask Abby why Jackson was so upset.
He stopped suddenly. His heart jumped into his throat.
Abby slowly stood and turned to look up at him. Her face was streaked with tears and blood. She was completely still, with her arms wrapped around herself, slumped over a little. Her shirt was covered in blood, almost more red than its usual blue. The front was nothing but blood. "I'm sorry," was all she could say before she choked up and had to stop.
Bellamy swallowed painfully and let his gaze move down from Abby to the hospital bed she was standing over. His breath hitched, and, for the first time in so long, he couldn't remember why he ever got so angry at her. Every thought of betrayal and pain disappeared in the face of one worse than all of them.
Because Clarke was lying deathly still on that bed, her chest barely moving. Bellamy dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes stuck on the gaping wound below her ribs. Her shirt was pulled up over her chest, but Bellamy's vision had tunneled, the corners darkening to focus on the hole in her side. His hand hovered over it, and he couldn't stop its shaking. Before touching her, he clenched his hand in a fist and lowered it back to his side.
He looked back at Clarke's face to see a pair of icy blue eyes half open, studying his face. "Clarke!" he blurted out, without thinking.
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, stretching the cracked skin of her lips. Her eyes were glazed over with pain, the fighting spark that the two Griffins shared no longer there. Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something, but no words came out.
Something broke in Bellamy's chest, deep down. Clarke, the eternal moral compass with a never-failing smart mouth, was unable to speak. She was never without some biting comment, or some brilliant plan that would fix everything, somehow. It just seemed wrong to see her like this. Bellamy may have ranged from trusting her with his life to almost liking her to hating her, struggling and failing to understand her, watching her make her bed with the Grounders and leaving her people behind. Leaving him behind. And no matter how hard he tried to persuade her, she wouldn't return to him until circumstances forced her to. But that all faded as reality hit him like a ton of bricks.
She was leaving him again. But this time, she would never come back.
"Clarke," Bellamy said again, this time in almost a whisper. "Don't go."
And there it was. He had made up his mind. No matter what she had done, he couldn't go on without her. She brought something to his life that no one else did, though he was only now realizing it. The thought of going another day without seeing those beautiful, icy blue eyes…
"Bellamy, what are you doing in there?" Octavia barged into the tent. "We have to-" She stopped short, her eyes darting to her brother, then to Clarke. A second passed in silence. "Oh, God," she breathed. Jackson slid in behind her, immediately going to Abby's side as she sobbed quietly.
Bellamy was suddenly very aware of the tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks, so he turned to to keep his face away from his sister and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Clarke's heavy-lidded gaze never left Bellamy's face. Her lips moved again, trying to speak. Bellamy leaned closer to hear her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "For everything."
And the walls Bellamy had built up for so long finally collapsed.
A tear slid down his cheek as he shook his head. "No," he insisted. "No, you're not. You're going to stay right here, and you're going to tell me exactly why you were so stupid. And you'll probably be right, but I won't admit it and we'll argue and fight like we always do. You hear me?"
Another smile ghosted across her face, more like the smirk Bellamy had seen before. Octavia's hand landed lightly on her brother's shoulder, but she said nothing. Clarke briefly glanced at her. Her breathing was shallow and painful, rasping quietly with every effort.
Bellamy swallowed. "I said, you hear me?" he repeated.
Clarke blinked, then inclined her head ever so slightly.
"Good." Bellamy's throat was so choked up the word was more of a whisper than anything else. He didn't know what else to say, so he took Clarke's hand and squeezed it gently. "Good."
Clarke tried to say something again, so Bellamy leaned closer. "But I was never good at listening to you, was I?" Clarke asked, the twinkle in her eye briefly returning. Bellamy let out a bark of laughter, but it sounded more like a sob. Octavia's grip on his shoulder tightened.
"You will this time," he said, but his head was hanging lower. "You will." He knew how desperate and pathetic he sounded, but he didn't care. He was in a room of people who understood his pain, and he could tell no one thought she was going to survive this. Not even she did; she had apologized.
"Okay." Clarke mouthed the word, but Bellamy knew what she said.
Clarke's face suddenly contorted in pain and her back spasmed. Her hand on Bellamy's tightened into a vise-like grip and a low groan ripped out of her throat, hoarse and gravelly.
"What do I do?" Bellamy shouted, panicked, and looked back at Abby. "What do I do?"
Abby was leaning heavily on Jackson and shook her head. "She's dying," she said, her small body wracked with sobs. "There's nothing we can do."
"Float that!" Bellamy screamed. "What do I do?"
"Bellamy," Octavia tried.
"No! I refuse to just let her die!" Bellamy turned and looked at Clarke. "I refuse," he repeated, his voice breaking.
"You don't have a choice," Octavia said quietly. "You know that."
But Bellamy didn't hear her. He knelt once more. "Clarke?"
She made no reply. Her heart was giving up. Clarke was finally giving up.
Bellamy held her face in his hands. "Please…" he whispered, sounding absolutely broken. "I- I need to tell you something."
Her breathing was so quiet it might as well have stopped. Her eyes were shut. She didn't respond.
"I-" His breath hitched. Unable to speak, Bellamy leaned closer and whispered the words Clarke would never hear. Then, his breathing erratic, he pressed his lips to hers, ignoring the coolness of her skin. He stayed there for a few seconds, then pulled away. "I should have done that a long time ago," he muttered. A tear glistened on her cheek. He didn't know who it belonged to.
The corner of her lips drew upward slightly into a sad smile, just barely, so that it couldn't be seen without really looking for it. Bellamy saw it. He also heard her breathing finally slow to a complete and final stop.
Then he saw and heard nothing else. Octavia was talking to him, Abby was saying something, but he heard nothing. His heart was breaking into a million pieces, his mind was shutting down.
Clarke was dead. And he had let her go.
So, basically, I found this on my computer and I literally labelled it 'Surprisingly Okay' because that's how I feel about it. I read it through and was like, Why not?
So I did.
Hope y'all enjoyed. Or, well, it's not the kind of story you 'enjoy', per say. I hope it was worth your time to read it. There we go. That sounds right. Thank you for reading, and who knows, I might write something again in the near future.