Hello Everyone and welcome to my triumphant return to fanfiction. I am on archive now, so if you need to find me and my stories they are there. This is my new Bellarke fanfiction, there are currently 5 chapters up on archive, I am going to update this often to put all my chapters on here over a short period of time. I update this story regularly (for the most part). Enjoy!
Clarke had learned many things about the earth since she had come to the ground; she had learned what it felt like to be completely covered by water when she swam for the very first time, she had learned the unfortunate feeling of the after affects of an insects bight, she had learned that the feeling of the sun beating on the skin wasn't even comparable to sitting in front of the heating unit that was on the ark. She had also learned about the cold, and it was cold. This cold was different from the chill of space, it wasn't a manageable feeling, something that could be fixed with a heating unit or simply moving into the next room. It was a biting, nasty cold that seeped into the skin and resided in the bones. A cold that was inescapable, indescribable, and bitter. For the first time in her life Clarke Griffin was very, very, cold.
The nights were growing longer and the daylight started to dwindle in the few weeks that they had spent on the ground. So much had happened since their descent. Raven had come from the ark to help them and see her boyfriend, Finn, who had pined after Clarke since the day they arrived on earth. Octavia had managed to fall quite literally into the arms of a grounder whom Clarke and Bellamy tortured and are now apprehensive acquaintances with, due to his, Lincoln's, relationship with Octavia. The ark was set to come down at any time, and the entire camp was waiting to see if their family would make their final journey to the ground in one piece.
The camps relationship with the grounders was rocky at best. After their failed meeting with Anya to try and quell some tension between the two camps they had been at a stalemate with one another. Clarke was in the process of setting up a meeting with the grounders commander, a fearsome woman named Lexa, with Lincoln in the next coming days. Bellamy is well aware of this impending meeting, and is not so keen on the idea. For the time being the walls around the camp remain and the delinquents are still on high alert as they await any impending doom that could come their way.
Today Clarke is set to divvy out duties to camp members working in the medical tent with her. They had set up quite a nice area for her there, full of different substances from the earth Lincoln was secretly showing her so that she could help her friends when they needed. She knows how to create many salves and remedies now using earth born plants thanks to Lincoln's help. Today she is showing some of the others how to prepare some of these in emergencies, and assign each of them one to remember specifically, in case of Clarke's absence from camp should an emergency arise.
"Okay," she breathed and put her hands on the table in front of her, "does anyone remember what this one is?" She points to a green leafy, stringy plant that smelt of salt and fish.
"Seaweed," one of the younger ones, a girl named Daisy, replied.
"Great," Clarke said with a smile, "and what is it used for?" She squints at the girl as a wrinkle appears between Daisy's eyes as she concentrates on what Clarke had told her that day.
"A few different things, when eaten it is good for protein or something, that's good for energy. And... it can be used to treat burns?" She looked a Clarke expectantly, pleading for her to assure her that she had said the right thing, or help her find the correct answer.
"That's good, and true, both those statements are true. It also can treat other wounds as well as rashes. We aren't really going to use it for food since we don't have much of it but we will use it for-"
"Clarke can I talk to you." Bellamy Blake was standing in the door to the dropship with his hands on his hips, a tense expression on his face.
"Bellamy," Clarke glared, "I am in the middle of something."
"Clarke," he gave her a look of warning and Clarke rolled her eyes.
"Give me a second guys," she said as she dismissed herself from the group. Bellamy glances at the tarp that covers the dropship's entrance. Clarke strides out, not waiting for Bellamy to take the lead. She could have sworn that she heard the kids in the ship say something about mom and dad arguing again, but she couldn't be sure.
Once they are a proper distance away from any prying ears into the woods behind the ship Clarke turned toward him, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "What do you want Bellamy?"
"Relax Princess," he puts his hands up in defense, "just wanted to have a conversation. Octavia told me that Lincoln went to set up the final pieces for this grounder meeting. Are you seriously still going through with this?"
"Bellamy," Clarke sighed, "I don't see how this could not happen. We obviously aren't getting anywhere with the grounders and if we keep going the way we are they are going to pick us off one by one until eventually there are none of us left. What do you want us to do, just sit around and let our people die?"
"Of course not," he defends, he is frustrated, Clarke can see it in the tense frame of his arms, the way his eyes move between hers as if trying to find an answer in them that benefits them both. "I just don't like it," he finally said, "I don't want you going in there to talk to one of them again. Look at what happened the last time."
"We didn't know any better last time." Clarke watched as Bellamy's arms flex and his fists clenched ever so slightly at the memory of the day at the bridge. She knows he saw Octavia run into Lincolns arms only days after he had escaped from their camp.
"You almost died Clarke." His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that she hadn't seen before.
"Why should that matter to you?" She pushed, "Only a few weeks ago you wanted nothing more than for the ark to think I was dead. Why not just make it true? Then you could do whatever the hell you want Bellamy."
"Maybe I don't want to do whatever the hell I want," his eyes leave hers, his arms crossing over his chest as he kicked the dirt with one boot, "maybe this camp needs you."
"Maybe," she agreed, "and maybe they need me to negotiate peace with the grounders so that we can finally live. Freely."
Bellamy rubbed a hand over his face in frustration as he took in Clarke's words. He knew she was right, of course she was, she was always right, but damn it he was not about to let her walk into another situation like the last. He couldn't risk her life like that again. He thought that his fears that day had been for Octavia alone when they were standing on that bridge, but when the first arrow hit the ground it was blond hair he looked for first.
"I'm coming with you, not up for debate." The look on his face told Clarke not to argue, and so she sighed and nodded her head.
"Honestly," she smiled, "I wouldn't have gone without you. I need you."
His eyes shone curiously at hers at this statement, and she could have sworn she saw hope in the look he was giving her. He took a step towards her and she relaxed her arms a bit.
"For this mission, I mean," she corrected, heat rushing to her cheeks, "I need you for this mission. You're probably our best fighter after all and you're good protection."
Bellamy smirked and continued to step towards her until they were almost toe to toe. He smiled down at her and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
"Sure Princess. Whatever you say." He walked away without another look behind him and Clarke struggled to catch her breath the whole way back to the dropship.
The rest of the day went by quickly for Clarke, she had shown the others how to mix salves and the proper amounts of which ingredient make for a good remedy for swelling. She showed them the different herbs she puts in her teas and how to stitch up a laceration, which was not on her list of things to show her fellow delinquents but when Carson came in with a large cut on his forearm she thought it might be useful for at least one other person to know how to do it. Many of the camp had spent a lot of the day reinforcing the wall and collecting food for the coming winter. They could all feel the air getting brisker as the days went by, and so the cooler season must be on the way. Clarke had given up some of her blankets to the people that had come into the dropship recently with colds, they all seemed to be chilled to the bone. While this benefitted her patients, it wasn't really helpful to Clarke herself.
Raven had been the first to bring this to Clarke's attention one day. "You know Clarke," she said, "it's great that you want to help and all, but they do have at least a blanket and they are sleeping in the ship, the warmest place in camp. It sucks that we can't do more but it helps no one if you get sick too."
Raven was right and Clarke knew it, but she couldn't in good conscience not give a blanket to a person suffering when she could help.
This is what has landed Clarke in the situation she is in now. It is the end of the day, the sun has gone down and that damn chill has taken over the camp, covering it in a blanket of damp, on the verge of freezing, dew. She shivered the whole way back to her tent where she would hopefully find some comfort, especially since the wind had just picked up. As she enters she falls swiftly onto her bed, only to be met with the feeling of a very cold, thin blanket, and the stuffed parachute she had used for a mattress. She threw the blanket on top of her and waited for the shivering to stop.
A few hours later she awoke to the sound of the wind slamming into the side of her tent. It howled so loud if she didn't know any better she would have thought it were someone screaming. Her first thought is to go and check on her patients. Climbing out of bed she is met with the cold air that bites to the bone. She snatched her blanket and wraps it around herself, hoping that would provide a small shield from the weather as she attempts to make her way across camp.
Bravely she stepped out from her tent and trudged towards the drop ship. It was dark, only the moon providing light for her to see her path. All of the fires had been extinguished and she could see that everyone was hunkered down in their tents for the night, attempting to shut out this weather. She can see materials they were using to build the wall were being picked up and tossed by the wind in different directions. She knows the camp will be a mess in the morning and hopes this wind dies soon so that they won't have to spend too long trying to clean it up.
As she ducks her head to try and escape the wind Clarke doesn't notice a branch that had come loose from the wind was barreling towards her at a high rate of speed. She could barely hear over the sound of the wind and the chatter of her teeth. She only had a few steps left to get to the ship when the branch strikes her in the shoulder, sending her hurtling towards the ground. She lets out a cry of pain as she falls, unable to catch herself due to her limbs being caught in the blanket. She feels her shoulder and head slam into the dirt at the same time, making her mind go blank and the shivering momentarily stop. She groans as she tries to roll and get to her feet, but her body is too heavy. She lies there on the ground, cold and in pain, for what feels like hours, but is only probably a few minutes before she hears him.
"Fuck Clarke," she can hear footsteps approaching her at a rapid pace, "what the hell are you doing out here?" A pair of arms lifts her from the ground and into their chest. She groaed with pain and they let out a quick sorry as they head in the opposite direction of the dropship. She looks up and sees the dark curls of the boy whose tent sits right next to hers.
"The patients," she tried to protest when she realizes they are heading back towards her tent, "Bellamy-"
"We aren't going back there Princess," his voice is gruff and full of sleep and something else Clarke can't quite pinpoint, was it fear?
He ducked into her tent and went to put her in the bed, but when his hand brushed the mattress he stopped. "Clarke," he said, "where are all of your blankets?"
"Gave them to the sick," she replied as her head lolled onto his shoulder, sleep pushing its way into her mind. "I'm so tired Bell."
He softened at the sound of her calling him by his nickname, and sighed as he hoisted her back into his arms and turned towards the entrance.
"Fuck it," he huffed, "you're staying in my tent tonight Princess."
"Bell," Clarke began to protest, but Bellamy wasn't hearing it.
"Don't argue with me Clarke, you're freezing and hurt. Let someone take care of you for a change."
She nodded her head and closed her eyes, resting against Bellamy as he carried her back to his tent. Once inside he pulled back his many layers of blankets and placed Clarke carefully inside. He noticed when he put her down that she was favoring her right side, holding her arm against herself and rolling onto her left.
"Clarke does this hurt," he said as he gently places a hand on her shoulder. All he received in response was a soft nod and a grunt from the girl occupying his bed. "Clarke, did you hit your head?" Another nod. He sighed with frustration, what was he going to do with this reckless girl?
"Alright," he breathed, "get some rest. We can take a look at it in the morning."
"You sleep too," she mumbled as she pat the bed next to her.
"You're not thinking straight Clarke go to bed, you're concussed."
"It is your bed," she retorts, and he rolled his eyes. "It's fine just get in Bell, besides, you're really warm."
Well, he couldn't argue with that, he was much warmer than Clarke, and maybe a little body heat would help with her current situation. He relents rather easily and slides into the bed next to her. She turns towards him and her eyes slant open momentarily as she sticks a finger in his face and smirks as she said, "no funny business." Yup, she was definitely concussed.
"Go to bed Princess," he chuckled and she rolled back over, snuggling further into the bed.
"Goodnight Bellamy," she said into her pillow, sleep already overtaking her.
"Goodnight Clarke."
She could have sworn that before she drifted off for good, she felt a pair of lips brush against her shoulder.