Okay, so this happened. I sat down, with the intention to write some nice Clarke and Bellamy fluff, when of course my writing took me down an angsty path. This is my first fanfic for the 100, a show that I recently became obsessed with.
This chapter is focused very much on Bellamy, and it's fairly angsty. I do plan on bringing this to a happier place and bringing in more dialogue, eventually! For now…enjoy some good old Bellamy Angst! Thank you for reading!
Pacing back and forth in his cold, steel clad room, Bellamy let out an impatient sigh. Of course there was more behind his heavy breath than impatience; there was fear, there was anger, and there was a forceful longing that Bellamy refused to acknowledge.
Three months. Three months without a trace of Clarke. Three months of pretending that he wasn't deeply missing something, and that he was okay. He managed to convince some of the ark survivors for a while, the ones that didn't really know him. He even managed to find someone to fill a void that he was not aware needed to be filled. Gina was a gift that Bellamy knew he didn't deserve, proven by the fact that now, even she was gone. No trace of her left but a book and the feeling of shame on Bellamy's part.
Even before Gina's death, Bellamy was starting to slip. Kane saw it. Monty saw it. Raven. Lincoln. An unforgiving Octavia. Even Abby, busy trying to bury her own body of grief, saw that behind Bellamy's tough exterior, was a broken man. It was evident that a piece of Bellamy had walked off that day, abandoning him, the same as Clarke. Left behind was the Bellamy that constructed an intricate façade, however unstable it may have been. The only person he was really fooling was, of course, himself.
It was three months. Three months of descending into a resentful, twisted brew of acceptance and hopefulness. He tried to separate the two; to push aside that feeling of hope residing in his core. He wanted so much to just forget; to forget what happened at Mount Weather, to forget the deep bond that he and Clarke had forged from the burdens of leadership. He wanted to firmly accept that Clarke had abandoned them. Not just the ark, but "them" as a team. Bellamy and Clarke. Together.
Together. A word that paced around Bellamy's head with heavy steps since the first events at Mount Weather. It tasted bitter on his tongue as he tried to spit it out, like Clarke had so easily done. Apparently together didn't mean to Clarke what it did to Bellamy.
He wanted to hate her. He wanted to wish that she would never come back, and that he could just fucking accept the fact, however unfair it may be, that there was no together between him and Clarke. He wanted to believe that Clarke was not worth the grief that hammered on his soul every day. Maybe that would cause less pain than acknowledging the truth.
So he kept building up the walls of pretense. Trying to convince himself of a lie that had no backbone. But every now and then, alone in his room for the night, the rest of the camp long asleep, reality would choose to awake him. In the form of a violent, relentless dream or a sudden, unforgiving panic attack, he would be so reminded of the truth. It was a truth that he refused to concede in broad daylight. For him, it was a fear as common as being seen naked in public. For him, the truth left Bellamy emotionally undressed, revealing a part of Bellamy so deep and private that if anyone were to see, he'd feel a type of exposure that he'd never be able to turn away from.
But the Truth remained. Bellamy could never hate Clarke. He could resent her (he did), but he could never hate her, because he understood her. For all the horrifying decisions that Clarke had to make, while Bellamy might not have agreed with some, he's always understood her reasoning. Which is why they worked so well as a team, and why it hurt so much to see her walk away. Sometimes he's just mad that he didn't follow her into the forest that day. He was more mad at himself than at her because rather than hating what she did, he was envious of her freedom. But even with all his understanding and envy, there existed the reckless hope that one day, Clarke would come back. She would come back and they could lead their people together, and they would slay their demons together, and no matter what happened next or no matter how many nightmares would come, it would be okay because they would be together.
These thoughts, the "what-ifs" that he pondered just tormented and confused Bellamy further. It became easy to transition that hate he tried to create for Clarke onto himself. When he was with Gina, who tried so hard to use her sweet love as a bandage for Bellamy's deep wounds, he hated himself for not being able to return the extent of love that she so openly offered. He really tried to. Gina Deserved Better. Better than him. He tried to give her what she deserved, but there was always that stupid what-if in the back of his mind.
It was silly to Bellamy because, well, so what if Clarke would miraculously just waltz up to the gates of Arkadia, fully recovered and ready to commit again to her people. Really, so what? There was no real "what-if" between her and Bellamy, at least none that Bellamy was ready to face. The two were a team, but the implications behind the deep longing Bellamy had to be near Clarke was too much for Bellamy to admit.
Consciously, he strained to convince himself that he only desired the piece of himself that Clarke took with her. He wanted his partner back, and perhaps he wanted his best friend back too. But what-if there was something more to it? Bellamy refused to own this bit of truth.
Three months. For the last three months, this was the battle that Bellamy continued to fight within himself. A battle that he was just not equipped for.
After months of burying away whatever feelings he had for Clarke, news of her whereabouts surfaces. News that she's in trouble. Wanheda is what the grounders refer to her as. The Commander of Death.
He puts all his remaining energy into finding her, because he has to. Even if she abandoned them, he meant it when he said they would face it together, so he has to find her. For so long there was that slight glimmer of hope that, even if he wanted to hate her, she would come back. It takes the knowledge that Clarke is in true danger to make Bellamy realize that he won't ever be able to let go of that thin strand of hope.
That strand of hope ropes into something stronger when he finally spots her across that achingly far stretch of field. It doesn't matter that there is an army of Azgeda only yards away, which could mean life or death for him. Suddenly, it doesn't even matter that by disobeying orders, he's letting his carefully constructed walls crumble to the ground. By going after her, he's undressing his emotions for everyone to see, exposing that last bit of privacy when it comes to how much Clarke means to him.
Literally, he's dressed in more clothing than he's worn before, covered head to toe in Ice Nation armor. Yet sneaking across the field towards the person who's been tormenting his thoughts for the past three months, he's never felt more naked.
The exposure proves worth it when he finds her. However brief their moment is, he finally finds her. Looking at her, finally seeing her, everything is okay. For a minute, he is able to let go of all the pain that the last few months has brought to him. He's just glad to be in this moment, with her.
"Bellamy." It whispers out of Clarke's mouth into Bellamy's ears, trailing off into disbelief. It's a question, a statement, and a greeting. All in one breath.
He strokes her hair, if only to make sure that the moment is real. It is, and he promises to get her out. With this promise, he realizes how wrong he was in wishing that he could just forget about her.
It feels like forever ago when she told him that she was the one who needed him. He wishes she would understand just how much he needs her in return.
All is lost in his distraction, and too soon the moment is gone. He's on his back, not sure how exactly he went from saving Clarke to needed to be saved himself. She's begging for his life to be spared, and even in his haze, the thought of her life ending to save his hurts more than the knife that suddenly stabs his leg.
"Don't follow us!" And it goes dark.
Waking up to an empty, hollow underground, Bellamy's not sure if he dreamed that entire sequence. The pain in his thigh reminds him of where he is, and all he wants to do is scream! There were many times in his life that he's lost control of his emotions and acted out violently, hurting others instead of confronting his own pain. Ever since he landed on the ground, his leadership style has always had a threatening component that Clarke would somehow tame in the heat of the moment. But in this moment, he wants to scream out for Clarke. He wants to rampage and he wants to weep because he's never felt so weak and broken. He feels that longing again, tugging at his insides and causing an ache that he didn't know could hurt so much. He let his guard down for one moment. He let himself have that one, sweet moment of reality, and now Clarke was gone again. Possibly for good.
If before he had been able to knot together a solid rope of hopefulness, it is once again reduced to nothing but a thread.
Still, Bellamy refuses to let that thread break, however thin it may be. This is why he's on his feet, struggling, yet succeeding in dragging his wounded leg up the stairs and onwards to Clarke and her capturer. It's harder than he would have imagined, but it would be harder to let Clarke go for good.
When the others catch up to him, his emotions are once again stripped bare. He hears their intentions and the rational part of him knows that they are right and reasonable. He knows that all his hope is hanging by a measly thread; one that would not be able to hold the weight of his careless plot to save Clarke. It takes Monty, perhaps the only other person besides Clarke that can even begin to understand the burdens of what they went through, to convince him to act realistically.
The next few days after finding Clarke happen in a fog. Gina is there, once again trying her best to help him heal, and he's never felt so guilty to be in her presence. He looks at her and she's beautiful and loving and all the things a man could ever want in a woman, and he cares for her, but not to the extent that she deserves. At some point, when he's made blissfully aware that Clarke is safe in Polis, that she's alive and that his thread of hope has suddenly knitted itself into a thick blanket, he knows that Gina knows. Gina knows that Bellamy is not giving her all of himself.
When Gina dies, it's because Bellamy left to go after Clarke. Once again, that weave of hope unravels, and this time, all that's left of Bellamy is an emotional noose, knotted together by more guilt and heartbreak than he's experienced before.
His heart breaks for Gina. Not because he couldn't picture his life without her, but because she died knowing that he could. The thought reverberates through his mind until it becomes a motive for all the crap that comes later. Gina deserved better. She deserved better. She deserved better! Why aren't you better? Be better!
He didn't think it was possible for his heart to break further, but then there's Clarke. She's right in front of him, he's found her again, dressed in Grounder attire and looking nothing like the Clarke he thought he knew so well. He hears Raven weeping through the radio, about Mount Weather, and he knows that he just lost Gina. He knows that he should be weeping for her just like Raven, but in the moment, all he can focus on is trying to get through to Clarke.
"She left us to die in that mountain. She will always put her people first. You should come home to yours." His eyes convey their silent plea, but she is not hearing it.
After all they have been through, it shouldn't be this hard. He shouldn't have to convince Clarke to come back with him rather than staying with the person who betrayed them, causing them to pull that lever into madness in the first place. They shouldn't have to keep fighting a war that may never be won. They should be able to go back together to the people they love and they should be able to finally find peace and forgiveness in each other. Bellamy ponders that the Ark and the Ground aren't so different after all; both are unfair and unforgiving.
When she stays behind, once again Bellamy wants to spit out that bitter taste of together. To have come all this way, to have lost so much, only to be met with a hesitant "I'm sorry," makes the sadness in his heart simmer, then boil, into resentment and frustration.
When he's back in Arkadia, there is nothing for him. He thought he felt lost before, when Clarke had first walked away. Now, not only is he lost, but there is really nothing left to loose. Even Octavia, the person he would do and had done anything for, is slipping away too quick for him to grasp. He feels selfish, because he knows now that he's not the only one hurting. He and Clarke had fought so hard to protect the 100 and conserve whatever humanity that would be left behind after the battle, but Bellamy could no longer see in others what he was trying so hard to protect. Monty was hurting more than any kid should ever have to in their life; Jasper was driving himself to somewhere in oblivion.
This awareness makes Bellamy's guilt weigh even heavier, and he feels the failure crushing him in a way that sometimes makes it hard to breath.
Perhaps this is why he so easily falls under Pike's leadership.
After so much time questioning decisions and questioning what's right and who's wrong, here comes a man who can bare the confidence that leadership requires. He's not questioning; he's decisive and direct and makes you believe that he has all the answers. Feeling lost is not something that sits well with Bellamy, so when Pike's regime offers him a clear and distinct path, however dangerous I may be, Bellamy cannot keep himself from following.
Pike is right; something Bellamy started to believe. Through Bellamy's vengeful gaze, everything that has gone wrong and everyone he's lost since coming to the ground is the Grounder's fault. Pike gives him a way to make the weight and guilt crushing Bellamy just a little bit lighter, and Bellamy can't resist. He's losing Octavia, the most important person in his life, to the grounders. Finn's dead. Grounders. Gina and all his people that are now buried underground or reduced to nothing but ash. Grounders.
Clarke. The person he put all his trust into and found solace in before everything turned to shit. She may be alive, but she's gone too. He's not stupid. He knows that somehow Clarke is bound to Lexa in a way that he is not, which creates a type of pain and envy that once again, Bellamy refuses to acknowledge. Clarke is gone. Grounders! Everything he cares about and everyone he loves is taken from him by those rotten, savage Grounders!
As he follows Pike onto the battlefield, with guns that he himself distributed, Bellamy firmly believes in his hate for the grounders. He believes it because it's easy. To hate the grounders is to take away some of his own self-hate. It gives him a chance to find some form of Bellamy that he used to know; but this is the Bellamy that used anger and violence to control people. This is the Bellamy that let his emotions control his policy; the Bellamy that existed before Clarke.
He only realizes this when it's too late. He realizes it only after he's helped Pike and the rest of his followers wipe out an entire army of hundreds of grounders. Grounders that were there to protect them. He knows this too well.
He remembers the moment a few weeks back when he found Clarke in that underground cave. He had been so happy to see her, and he had let that emotion take over the moment. It distracted him, which is why he wasn't prepared when Roan attacked him, which is why he couldn't defend Clarke, which is why she was now in Polis instead of with him. He decides that whatever emotion it may be, it makes him weak. Bellamy cannot afford any more weaknesses.
He stands on the battlefield, looking out at the sea of corpses, feeling that weight come crushing down on him once again, heavier than ever experienced. This is the same. It may have been a different emotion, anger rather than ecstasy, but still, Bellamy had let his emotions control the moment. Same as when he had found Clarke. The frustration, the aching sadness, the relentless anger that had formed a dark cloud over Bellamy's judgement dissipates, and the hate he placed on the grounders is once again returned to its rightful owner.
He knows there is no going back. He is painfully aware that he can no longer keep track of the lives that have been lost because of him.
This is why, when Octavia comes to him with her own rage, he lets her take him to the dark place. He allows himself to feel the pain of all the deaths he's caused. With every kick, with every gruesome punch, he takes in the hurt and welcomes it like an old friend, knowing it's what he deserves. The pain is worse coming from Octavia, but Bellamy doesn't fight it.
"You're dead to me!" Octavia states through her tears.
Good. At least Octavia can go now, without feeling an obligation or without having their bond to hold her back from living the rest of her life in peace. If Bellamy has to suffer for Octavia to be able to live freely, then so be it. It's been this way their entire lives.
In the days after their attack on the Grounders, Bellamy finds ways to repent. He eats very little; let's himself starve until he makes sure everyone has had plenty of food, then only eats enough to make sure he doesn't pass out. He talks to Kane, sees the disappointment in his eyes and welcomes the punishment. But Kane is too forgiving.
He tells it like it is, "You attacked an army that was sent to help us. Can't you see that the real enemy lives behind these walls, not out there?" But behind those disappointed eyes and pointed facts, is an understanding and acceptance in Kane's expression that overwhelms Bellamy. He wants to shake Kane, grip him by the shoulders and beg him to give him the punishment he deserves. He doesn't.
"We've gone too far." Bellamy talks to Pike, tries to make him understand that they need to find some way to make it right. As the new Chancellor, Pike needs to understand. Bellamy needs there to be peace so that at least everyone else can move forward. I bare it so they don't have to. The words throb around his scars.
But Pike is still very sure of himself. He's unapologetically aware of Bellamy's suffering, and Pike looks at Bellamy with a type of disappointment that holds more judgement than actual care. Pike's eyes convey enough that he doesn't need to say aloud. He only sees weakness in Bellamy, and it's clear to him that Pike doesn't understand, that he never could.
It is then that more than anything, Bellamy just feels tired. He's tired of disappointing everyone, he's tired of hurting everyone. He's tired of risking everything they've fought so hard for.
He wants the chance to live. He wants to walk away, just like Clarke, and just let go of some of the burdens he carries with him daily. Why does he stay in Arkadia when it's obvious that he only causes more problems for everyone by staying?
While it's not the type of hope that he was looking for, it's something. The hope that, maybe if he disappears, everyone else can find some form of peace. And if not, well then at least he won't be around to watch anyone else suffer.
This thought alone brings him to his room, hastily packing anything he has left (which is not much). He's not sure where he will go; somewhere far away. Finn once mentioned a clan by the sea, over 100 miles away. Maybe he'd start there. Of course he would never be able to rid himself of the grief and the guilt that weighs him down, but maybe he could find a way to forget them for a while. Maybe if he pretended to be someone else, eventually he would believe his own lie.
He's not sure if he should say goodbye. It feels wrong not letting anyone know his intentions, but he isn't sure he wants to burden anyone else with the task of explaining to people why he left, like he had to do with Clarke.
Bellamy's inner conflict is interrupted by a calm, yet persistent knock at the door.
He hesitates to open it, worried that it might be Raven or Monty, or any of the other remaining 100. Seeing any of them now would give him more guilt to add to his already heavy baggage.
"Bellamy? Open up, it's Abby. I need to talk to you."
Surprised wavered Bellamy's response. Abby rarely spoke to Bellamy, even before he pledged his loyalty to Pike. It seemed fitting. The two people who were closest to Clarke couldn't stand to be too close to each other. Too many scars between them.
A moment of hesitation, then Bellamy opens the door enough that Abby can only see his face.
"Okay," Bellamy's response is tight, but not unfriendly.
Abby isn't smiling, but she doesn't show signs of anger. Bellamy waits for her expression to mirror the disappointed look on Kane's. Then again, he wouldn't be surprised if her disappointment matched Pike's. Instead, Abby has the expression of a Chancellor; calm, politically correct, yet caring all the same. She looks painfully like Clarke in that moment.
"May I come in Bellamy? It's important." Her words are so calm that it takes Bellamy off guard.
Rather than responding with words, Bellamy allows for the door to open widely, backing away so Aby can step in. She closes the door, once again with an ease that surprises Bellamy. After all the shit that the Arkadians have been through, after all that Abby has to put up with, how she remains so calm is a mystery to Bellamy. He briefly thinks that maybe he could take lessons from her. Then he remembers that it doesn't matter because he's leaving anyway.
Bellamy tries to find his voice among the rubble of his soul, "If this is about what happened with Pike and the Grounders, I want you to know that I know how bad I fucked up. If I could take back anything, it would…" He pauses, reconsidering his words. "It would be that I wouldn't have let Clarke go so easily. I should have fought harder to be better, to be someone like Clarke." The truth of his words make the remnants of scars on his face sting.
Abby nods decisively. She's standing in the middle of the room, holding dominance similar to the Commander's Tower in Polis. Taller and more impressive than anything else in the room. Her eyes wander, and Bellamy knows that she spots his backpack and probably does the math, but she doesn't regard it.
"Bellamy," she starts around the room, pacing slowly, unsure of how to word her thoughts. Bellamy waits patiently for her purpose to make itself clear. "After Mount Weather," she gulps down a moment of sorrow, "After the first event a Mount Weather, when you and Clarke had to make a decision that no one, much less someone so young should ever have to make, I told Clarke something that now I'm going to tell you."
She turns to him, stopping again in the center of the room. Her voice is quiet but extremely confident, "Maybe there are no good guys."
Silence fills the small, steel room around the pair. Bellamy tries to let the words sink it. He wants to hang on tight to every word, hold onto their meaning. Maybe if he could just grasp onto those words, maybe he could find a way to finally accept it.
Bellamy doesn't realize right away that tears have created a stream down his scarred cheeks; wet, salty and raw. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you need to hear it. You need to know that you're not alone in your guilt, and that I am thankful for all you've done to try and protect my daughter. I know that you tried your hardest to carry some of her burdens, and I appreciate it more than you know.
"But, its time you forgive yourself. We have all done what we believed to be right, even if it turns out wrong. Don't feel guilty about following your gut. I know what Clarke sees in you; she sees a leader with so much passion for his people, and its time you start seeing that in yourself."
Wiping away the wetness on his skin, Bellamy remains speechless, unsure of how to respond to Abby's words.
"I'm also telling you this because the Ark needs you. The kids, the ones you worked so hard to protect, they need you. And Clarke is going to need you too, when she comes back."
At this, Bellamy scoffs, "What makes you so sure that Clarke will ever come back. She's found her place, with Lexa." He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Abby surprises him with a smile. "Bellamy, if you feel something, you should know enough by now to not let those feelings go to waste. There is only so much time on this earth, so don't waste it."
He's about to scoff again, in denial, when Abby continues, "Clarke has made contact with the Ark. She knows what happened with Pike and the grounders. She'll be arriving here at some point today, and she wants to talk to you. So be ready."
Without waiting for a response, Abby heads steadily to the door, letting herself out. She pauses in the doorway, turning back to add one more thing. "I know you feel like she abandoned you, but I also know you understand why she did." She walks away, leaving Bellamy more confused and panicked than before.
Three months of denying just how much he missed and needed Clarke. Then weeks of almost having her, only to lose her again and lose himself in all his grief. How could he face her now, when he was just about to leave it all behind?
Pacing back and forth in his cold, steel clad room, Bellamy lets out an impatient sigh. Of course there was more behind his heavy breath than impatience; there was fear, there was anger, and there was a forceful longing that Bellamy refused to acknowledge.