"Which way did they go?"
Clarke leans against the nearest tree, wiping sweat from the back of her neck as she stares out at the numerous trails in front of them that peter off into the forest. None look particularly well-trod or display any evidence of human usage. She sighs in frustration, closing her eyes against the slowly growing headache beating against her forehead.
"How should I know Clarke? We weren't supposed to be gone this long." Bellamy clenches his jaw, biting back more words before they fly out of his mouth. The tone and implication are clear though.
She turns in confusion. "Wait, are you blaming me for this? You were supposed to remember which trail they took."
Bellamy's brow shot up, incredulous at her accusation. "What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who insisted on leaving the group to look for 'a few plants'. You said it would save us a trip. Instead we were walking through thorns for three hours. If this is anyone's fault, it's yours."
Folding her arms across her chest she counters. "You know how badly we need those supplies. And you were supposed to keep an eye on how far away we were getting. Now we have no idea which way they went."
She gestures in front of them at the deer paths not much wider than the average boot. Thick underbrush obscures the view in every direction. Deadfall, thickets and fast-growing seedlings crowd around them like a huddled mass, claustrophobic and cluttered. It would have been a pleasant walk if not for where they were. Calling out to try and locate their friends wasn't a good idea, not knowing who else might be in the area. After all they are in foreign territory.
Bellamy frowns and steps closer, looking down his nose at her. "No, I was supposed to be keeping track of you and make sure we didn't run into any Grounders. Now we're not just lost we're alone and we have no idea how long it's going to take to find them." He stalks past her, gun held comfortably in his hands.
Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes and simply falls into line behind him. Pulling on the straps of her pack, she stumbles on the path under the weight of her newly acquired medicine cabinet courtesy of the forest. Not that she'd admit she picked too much or that her back was sore or that she might have gotten them lost. Frowning she tries to roll her shoulders, feeling the sweat and grime from the day coating her skin with a thin film.
"If you're so upset maybe you shouldn't have come with me." She talks to his back, angry and tired. He pauses and she sees his shoulders tense before he whips around.
"And let you go off all by yourself? You know that never ends well Clarke." He glares at her as if in accusation and she hears the anger edging into his voice.
"I would have been fine. Like you said I was just looking for 'a few plants'; plants that are probably going to end up saving your life later."
She knows she's picking a fight, goading him into arguing but he knows how important this is. The group has been running on common sense and good weather since they left, scraping the bottom of the barrel every time someone doesn't look where they were going. With their luck it's only a matter of time before someone falls down a hill or eats something poisonous. Without her little foray it's likely someone will have to suffer before they reached the summer grounds.
"And then you would have been out here by yourself." His knuckles are white against the gun and he's practically shouting.
"You would have found me," she asserts quite matter-of-factly.
He starts at the statement, eyes widening as he embraces the trust implied in her words. Clarke Griffin is many things, a pain in his ass, a healer, a reluctant leader and a constant surprise. He isn't their best tracker but she's right. He'll be damned before he leaves Clarke alone in the forest, even if it means tramping around for hours because she's decided to foolishly leave the trail. As much as he hates to admit it sometimes, he can't do this without her. More importantly he doesn't want to. It's hard enough just trying to corral their people and keep them safe but now they have the Arkers and Lincoln's people to worry about. His opinions though are entirely conditional upon Clarke not being a complete moron when it comes to safety.
She's been told half a dozen times by as many people that everyone has to travel in groups of at least two when they leave camp for any reason. Of course Clarke has access to all the information about shift assignments and roster duties so she knows how thinly spread everyone is. This of course leads to her taking care of chores on her own, slipping out past the guards who Bellamy will inevitably yell at for failing their most basic task, guarding the perimeter.
Clarke would be found on her hands and knees digging at some plant or knee deep in water with algae or plastered to a tree collecting bugs, all for her various pastes and ointments, all to keep them safe. Later Bellamy would argue with her for leaving she'd insist she she's a good shot with her gun and they couldn't spare the people to keep an eye out while she foraged.
But he knew it wasn't just to keep the work crews on schedule or so everyone could get a decent night's sleep. He could see how she gazed out past the gates with a haunted look on her face when she thought no one was looking. How on occasion her hands shake when she's trying to concentrate. How she came back with more scars and fewer smiles after leaving when everything with Mountain Weather had gone to hell. But she never mentions it and he never asks, an unspoken arrangement that the past was best left where it was, behind them.
He quickly glances over at her as she wipes away the sweat from her forehead. The circles under her eyes and the greasy hair betray her true state. Tired and unkempt she's quicker to grimace than grin and he knows she's been trying hard to hide it. But it's her and she has this seemingly obsessive need to help and save and heal and he can't be the only who's noticed that those aspects of her personality have become somewhat emphasized as of late. And that spark, that bright optimistic attitude has vanished, leaving behind just the logical and bitter. Everything that makes her Clarke has been muted and twisted into somebody that's hard to recognize. He knows it's killing her mother and it's hell on him pretending everything's fine. He can't even imagine how she's feeling but before he can contemplate further, she glances over and catches him staring. He moves to stare out at the trees, hands slick against his gun.
"What?" She glares.
He shrugs. "Nothing. Just considering what you said."
She raises a brow as if she doesn't quite believe he's conceding. "Well you would."
He frowns, eyes narrowing as he qualifies her statement. "If I was able to find you."
Clarke stares for a moment, her mouth a thin line before she pushes past him. It's hot out and her feet hurt and she's sweating everywhere and the more he talks the worse her headache gets. "Let's just see if we can find which trail they took."
Bellamy looks skyward for a moment, closing his eyes as if in malediction. He rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Clarke the entire point of Lincoln's training was so we won't leave a trail." He's staring at her back but he can tell she's making a face. One he sees more often now.
"I know," her words are clipped, her tone annoyed. "That doesn't mean they won't have slipped up. Besides, how else are we going to find them?"
"Maybe you should have thought of that before," he mutters. He really doesn't want to keep circling around this and he definitely doesn't want to have this conversation. Not right now and not with Clarke. He just wants to find the group, forget the last couple of aggravating hours and move on. Unfortunately he isn't quiet enough.
Clarke turns and strides over to him, her boots clumping on the hard earth. She stares him in the eye, practically spitting as she speaks. "You didn't have to come with me Bellamy! No one made you, you chose to," she pokes him hard in the chest. "We needed supplies, you knew that. So I went and got them. I'm sorry things didn't go perfectly but you can't always expect things to work out the way you want them to." Any other meaning behind her words is left unspoken as they stare at one another, angry and unwilling to back down.
He resists rubbing at the sore spot on his chest and pauses before speaking because technically this is Clarke's fault but she's right. He went along with her, even though he didn't like the idea of leaving the group.
"Yeah well, I didn't think we'd be gone for three hours."
Clarke throws up her hands. "Well it's too late to do anything about it now isn't it!"
Bellamy looks at her face in alarm. That crease on her brow is back, the one that usually signals an epic argument he has no chance at winning. So instead he just wipes his brow and decides to be the bigger person because the longer they stand and argue, the later it gets and the further behind they fall.
He sighs. How did this get turned around on him? "Fine, you're right. Let's just go. Maybe we'll catch up to them by nightfall." He tries to sell the last bit but the truth is he doesn't have much confidence in finding them. At least not before sunset, meaning they'll be lost and alone in Grounder territory.
Clarke crosses her arms at his sudden about face and narrows her eyes. "And what if they 'left the trail' too Bellamy? What then?"
He realizes she isn't just going to let this go. "Then they'll send someone back for us. They aren't just going to leave us out here. Look Clarke-"
"And how are they going to find us if they don't know where to look? We are lost aren't we? I mean that's what you said. And we can't afford to waste time dicking around in the forest gathering plants," she says, mimicking him.
"Look I know you're angry at me but we don't really have time to argue about this. You can yell at me when we meet up with the group."
"Don't you mean if?"
At this point he's convinced that she's goading him on purpose. He looks at her, frowning and angry and just shakes his head. He turns to walk down the nearest path, hoping he's at least heading in the right direction.
"Bellamy!"
He ignores her, hoping she's at least going to follow him. He's learned to trust Clarke in the past, believing that her judgement is sound and farseeing. That she has his best interests at heart, even when he doesn't agree with her. Now he has to hope she trusts him enough to do the same.
As he winds his way along the path he tries to distract himself with his surroundings, not daring to look back for fear of ruining it all. Like Eurydice and Orpheus he's worried she'll disappear into the forest if he confronts her again. She has enough reason to go off on her own: stubbornness, anger, independence, the belief that he's taking them in the wrong direction.
The forest has a fresh earthy smell, a scent he's not sure he'll ever get used to. It's…an absence of scent and sound if he's being honest. The air doesn't have that slight recycled tang to it and there's no constant whir of purifying filters. No metallic echo of feet or whush of doors opening and closing. No pressurising hiss and clomp, no scent of oil and grease and cleaning fluid. And every so often he hears a bird in the distance or a rustle in the bushes and he's reminded that they aren't alone. That unlike the emptiness of space, they're surrounded by life down here. It was unnerving at first, especially after discovering other people have survived on the ground, but it's slowly growing into a comfort. It's preferable to those long silences he endured after Octavia was taken and his mother floated. That's why he can't help but grimly smile when he hears the familiar tromp of Clarke's boots behind him.
They spend the next few hours not speaking, simply walking through the forest. Bellamy, too focused on finding the group, looks for traces of human activity in the form of footprints, broken branches and trampled underbrush. Clarke spends it stewing, angry at Bellamy for thinking her side trip was unnecessary and dangerous. Both hate the insects surrounding them, occasionally swatting at the ones that stray too close. Both are dripping with sweat, fighting the urge to empty their canteens and gulp down the last of their water.
They pass by giant upended boulders with straight sides covered in moss. Occasionally they'll walk by large pieces of twisted metal, rusted beyond recognition. And then there are the animals. Some chitter and squawk, as if yelling at a trespasser; others just stare in fear before bounding or scuttling away. More than once they spot the signs of radiation on a creature.
The old world surrounds them, hidden just under the soil, slowly being reclaimed by nature, pulled down into what could easily be termed an 'underworld' of sorts, a radiation-soaked landscape unlikely to emerge from said influence for tens of thousands of years.
Trying to break the silence and make peace, Bellamy pinches a bright red berry off a bush and turns, holding it out to Clarke with a raised brow as if to ask whether it's alright to eat. She shrugs.
"If you want to risk diarrhea, vomiting and or death be my guest." She can't be certain but in her experience on the ground it's always better to err on the side of caution just in case. Her experience with those nuts had taught her that lesson the hard way.
He grimaces and chucks it into the bushes. So much for trying. She pushes past him to take the lead, nearly backing him into a ditch. He's about to shout at her when he realizes she's gone ahead, disappearing around a bend in the trail. Worried she's about to take off he sprints to catch up and nearly runs into her. In fact he has to move to the right to keep from plowing into her back and knocking her over. Unfortunately he steps on a loose stone and falls on his ass. Grimacing in pain he raises his gun at whatever possible threat caused her to halt in the middle of the trail.
But there's no danger, at least none that he can see. They're at the edge of a clearing filled with a lake. Large trees surround them, growing right next to the water's edge, branches bowing down, dipping below the surface. Rotting logs and sea grass pepper the shoreline. A large jagged rock formation sits off to the left, cutting into water. It's quiet and likely deep as the bottom isn't visible.
Bellamy lowers his gun and stands, wincing as he straightens up. He's definitely going to have a bruise. One look at Clarke tells him they won't be leaving for a while. She stares longingly at the water, licking her chapped lips. Bellamy catches himself staring at her mouth before glancing away.
He can't blame her. It's hot enough out to make him nostalgic for the temperature controls of the Ark, that constant lukewarm draft blowing out of the vents. Of course, after curfew they turned the heat down, discouraging those out after hours, making necessary the various blankets and cast-offs that everyone valued so highly. It had been worse for Octavia. Spending most of her days under the floor she used them both for warmth and cushioning. Bellamy didn't care that he'd resorted to the black market to get her a proper pair of socks or that he'd ripped the lining out of his cadet's uniform for pillow stuffing. When he shivered on patrol it just reminded him of why he'd done it. She was his responsibility.
Clarke's mouth fights a smile and she walks up to the lake, crouching as she splashes a handful of water on her face. Bellamy sees a stripe of sweat trailing down the back of her shirt and watches the fabric ride up, exposing the small of her back. It doesn't bother him until she turns around and he sees that the water's dripped down her front, causing her shirt to stick to her skin, highlighting the curves of her breasts. He clears his throat and kicks at the stone he tripped over before he walks over to copy her gesture, splashing his neck to try and cool off. It's a hollow gesture though as it's still unbearably hot out and likely to stay so even after they get back to the group. The thought of tramping through the woods dripping with sweat for an undetermined amount of time is seriously unappealing.
Screw this.
He slings off his gun, setting it down behind a log. Then he bends down and starts unlacing his boots. He doesn't even have to look to know Clarke's frowning at him.
"Are you honestly going swimming right now?" Anger and annoyance clear in her voice.
He cranes his neck to look up at her and tries to fight a grin. "Yeah. You coming in or what?"
Clarke scans the water's edge, looking for possible threats. "We're supposed to be looking for the group Bellamy. Not wasting time jumping into lakes."
"Well tell you what. You can stand there and sweat your ass off or you can jump in with me and cool off. Your choice." He ignores the frustrated look on her face. He'll be damned if he's going to be pissed off at her and uncomfortable for the rest of the trip.
"Someone needs to keep watch." He sees the fight going on behind her eyes. The temptation is there .
He rolls his eyes. "Oh come on."
"What happened to watching out for Grounders!" She puts a hand on her hip calling him out for what he is, a hypocrite.
"I'm too hot to care anymore." He reaches up and pulls off his shirt, balling the fabric as he starts to brush it down his torso, wiping off the sweat.
Clarke watches him, eyes drifting across his chest. He can't help but smirk when he catches her.
"You okay Clarke?"
"Fine," she says her voice a little shaky.
Watching her watch him he unties his jacket from his waist and slowly starts to unzip his pants. He glances up at her, brow raised. She crosses her arms, unintimidated as he shucks them off and throws them to the side. It's only when he tucks his thumbs into his boxers and tugs them down that she whips around, turning her back to him. He chuckles. Making her uncomfortable is surprisingly entertaining. Completely nude now he waits for her to turn around but she stays where she is, that wet stripe of sweat on her back mocking him.
"I'm going to check the area, see if I can find any footprints. You better be out when I get back," she calls over her shoulder and ducks into the trees.
"Have it your way then. Sweat to death," he yells after her but is met with silence.
Her loss.
He shrugs and bundles up his clothes, stuffing them in the nearest rotting log. Thinking better of it he takes his gun and stashes it too. There's no sense in taking chances. Just in case she's right and there are Grounders around he doesn't want them to take off with his things. Then Clarke really would be able to tell him off.
He stares out at the lake, his hungry eyes drinking in every inch of water. Just a quick dip and he'll be done and out in five he promises himself. Grinning like a fool he runs in and dives under. The feeling is a blissful one. While not as cold as he wanted, it washes away that slick film of sweat, leaving him breathless as he surfaces smiling from ear to ear. Learning to swim had been a painful and somewhat dangerous experience with flailing limbs and gasped curses but it had been worth it.
Buoyant and happy, he kicks his legs turning over on his back to stare up at the sky. All is quiet. He can't even hear Clarke tromping through the brush. He watches clouds unfurl and coalesce as he floats, drifting across the surface, letting every worry and concern fall away if only for a moment.
He's only pulled out of his peaceful contemplated when the shadow of a rock obscures his view. He reaches his hand up and holds onto the side to keep from drifting away. The surface is jagged with natural handholds leading up to the top. Scraggly clumps of grass bravely huddle in the cracks and crevices, clinging to the vertical wall. He considers climbing to the top just to see if he can. Looking down for footholds he sees what looks like an underwater cave. Recessed into the rock it's only feet below the surface and for a moment Bellamy swears he sees a light coming from inside. He turns to look at the sun just in case it's a trick of the light but the angle is all wrong. Curiosity pulls him forward until he's treading water just above it.
"Hey Clarke!"
He yells out, hoping she's still in the vicinity. He wouldn't mind her tagging along. After all the last time they went exploring they hit pay dirt and if she comes for a swim maybe her attitude will improve. There's no answer. He wonders how far off she's strayed before his thoughts return to his new discovery.
It's been an age since he's had something just to himself that didn't involve food or shelter or keeping a group of rambunctious teenagers alive. Grinning he gulps down a big breath of air before diving beneath the water to explore. Ripples are left in his wake as his toes disappear into the depths.
He doesn't resurface.