The moment Bellamy Blake realized he was in love with Clarke Griffin was when the bullet of a girl flew towards him. In the worst days, he would still feel her arms wrapped around his neck. The day that the event happened was bright but chilled, and Bellamy was tired. His hands were starting to lose their numbness and the sharp pain of the rope burns started to appear.
Bellamy couldn't wait to get back to his tent and go to sleep. His neck ached, and he was worried for Finn and Clarke and Murphy and, God, all of his people – taken by the Grounders. He hoped that Finn and Murphy would find their friends.
Living at Camp Jaha was a nightmare. Bellamy couldn't handle not being in charge. These adults thought that they knew how to live on the ground, that just because they were a bunch of kids they couldn't take care of themselves on their own. He needed Clarke to talk to him, to balance his ferocity out with her thoughtfulness.
There was a flash of blonde hair – as if his prayers were being answered – and the wind was knocked out of him and Clarke's arms were around his neck, squeezing him that made his sore muscles ache but it felt so good; she was here. She was here. She was here.
Clarke was hugging him. In the stunned second that passed as Clarke hung on him, Bellamy found only three things going through his head; three thoughts, everything else clouded out, circling around and around and around.
The first one was she was here. She was alive, and she was here.
The second was that she was hugging him.
The third was that he loved her.
Maybe love isn't supposed to work like that, because in the old Earth movies that Bellamy used to watch on the Ark weren't like that, they didn't hit you in the face like the tiny blonde girl against him. They were slow, and steady. Maybe Bellamy loved her all this time and he didn't realize it until now. He didn't know. All he knew was that he loved her. That was all he needed. His arms found themselves around her body, and he was squeezing her so hard, so she wouldn't leave him again.
Clarke sighed against his neck, her lips touching his bare skin and sending shivers up his spine. The mumble of his sister beside him made Bellamy relax, closing his eyes. He didn't want to look at anything else, didn't want to think about anything else except for Clarke. And, oh God, that wasn't very hard to do at all.
Afterwards, in the late hours of the night there were thoughts of their friends – in Mount Weather now, not taken by the Grounders as they thought before. The thoughts haunted Bellamy and he couldn't sleep. His arms ached for Clarke's body, and his neck tingled where she had touched it.
Maybe analyzing a hug wasn't something that was typical, but Bellamy wasn't exactly typical himself, and he liked to analyze things, so that's what he did.
He always knew that Clarke needed him. He knew that she respected him. They were the co-leaders, they stuck together and they made each other stronger. Bellamy just didn't know that Clarke liked him. When they first met, all snide comments and arguments, Bellamy knew that she didn't like him. Frankly, he didn't like her himself. But, she started to grow on him. They were partners. He didn't know that she liked him, even as a friend. That hug changed that.
Two days after Finn was gone and Clarke was quiet, when he tried not to make it obvious how he felt about her when she said those words; I can't lose you too. He would do anything for her. He would do anything for his Princess. He jumped in front of her. He would take anything; bullet or sword. Bellamy knew that she was hurting, so he kept his distance. It was okay, he had thought, because Clarke liked him. Bellamy and Clarke were together, as friends, sure; but together.
But all that changed.
Bellamy remembered when going over her words in his head hurt more. It's worth the risk. It's worth the risk. Was his life that disposable to her? He had looked away, the feeling of his heart being torn to pieces right in front of the woman he loved. Maybe Clarke didn't like him, after all.
Going to Mount Weather with Lincoln was filled with such thoughts. You're so stupid; he scolded himself, falling a couple of steps behind his sister's boyfriend. What would Clarke want from you? You're a fucking idiot for thinking that she liked you. The two of you need to work together to get our people out of Mount Weather. She was glad to see her co-leader, because seeing you meant seeing Finn. That's all the hug was. That's all she wanted.
Before he knew it, they were there. For a moment, for the first moment since Clarke got back, Bellamy's thoughts weren't clouded by the blonde. He dug his fingernails into his palm, hoping that the Grounder clothes were so thick that Lincoln couldn't see Bellamy shaking.
Then it all went to shit.
Bellamy wouldn't like to relive that part. He never wants to think of it again. There was a sliver of hope; he was going to see Jasper and Monty and Miller and all of his friends and he's going to get them out of there, he'll be the hero and maybe Clarke will start to like him.
But all the hope was gone by the time Lincoln hit the ground, the effects of the drug making his eyes roll back into his head, his body starting to shake. Bellamy himself started to shake as well, but for a different reason. Who is going to take care of Octavia now?
The thought caused him to shoot up, jumping off of the ground clothed in only his underwear, he tried to escape, and he tried to run away. They overcame him. They dragged him into the mountain. They poked him with things and they shoved others down his throat. They hung him upside down like a bat.
He wished that Clarke didn't show up. He knew she wasn't real. He knew it the second she showed up, her hands on his face. His neck tingled, and he didn't know if it was from the needle poking in it or from the ghost of Clarke's mouth.
"Bellamy," she would whisper every time, the little mole above her lip moving with her mouth as she spoke. Bellamy closed his eyes and shuddered. "Bellamy, it's me."
"Please," he croaked. His voice was foreign to his own ears. "Please, leave me alone," he would say every time. Sometimes he would mouth it when his voice was gone from all the screaming. He didn't like screaming, but sometimes it hurt so bad he couldn't help it.
One day, they took him down out of his cage and brought him into another room. Bellamy didn't know how much time had passed; he spent so much of it unconscious. His head rolled on his shoulders and the Mountain Men had to drag him there, his feet scraping the hardwood floors.
They were in the process of pricking Bellamy's finger when an alarm sounded. The doctor was so startled that she jabbed his finger so hard that the shock of it ran up his arm. But he was too tired to do anything about it. These days Bellamy was tired all the time.
"Shit," the doctor mumbled under her breath, glancing at Bellamy. Another doctor ran into the room.
"There's been a breach!" He yelled, panicked.
"I have to lock this one back up," the woman said, her eyes big and bugged out. Bellamy wanted to say something, but his mouth was too dry and even if it wasn't he wouldn't know what to say.
The man glanced down at Bellamy for half a second, not even giving him the time of day. "Look at him. He's going nowhere. Tsing, we have to go. If you don't come with me, I'm leaving you here to die of radiation poisoning."
The woman waited a moment but she eventually left.
Bellamy sat himself up. He tore the wires out of his skin, the little pricks of pain woke him up, which was just what he needed. He leaned on the table where he was laying on, not realizing that it was on wheels. It rolled and he crashed to the ground.
Shaking, Bellamy crawled on his hands and knees, dragging himself towards the door. He wheezed as the exercise did its justice on his lungs. When he finally got to the door, the shocking alarm screaming in his ears had faded to a dull hum.
Bellamy reached up, his shoulders screaming against the strain. He pulled himself up, using the wall as support. He couldn't remember which way he came and which was towards his people, towards freedom. So he chose a direction and stuck with it, practically dragging himself away. If the wall wasn't there, Bellamy wouldn't have been able to go on.
His breathing was harsh and he was wheezing. His bare feet made slapping sounds on the hardwood floor. The lights in the containment center where they kept Bellamy and thousands of other Grounders were dark and dim. Now he squinted against the harsh light of the hallway. The brightness woke him up a little more. It made him go faster, which wasn't fast enough.
Bellamy wondered what the Mountain Men would do if they found his body, dead, lying here, trying to escape. Would they drain all his blood out, and then throw his body away, discarded for the Reapers, like the trash Clarke treated him like.
Clarke. Bellamy's lips formed around the word. His arm shook against the wall, trying to hold his body up. But Bellamy kept on going. He kept on going for Octavia, and for Clarke. But the simple fact there, that was staring him straight in the face, was that Clarke didn't care whether or not he lived or died.
Bellamy fell to his knees. This is what dying feels like, he decided. It feels like hope gone down the drain and it feels like your entire being is being frozen, your skin as cold as ice. He shivered, bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. He closed his eyes. What would Octavia be doing right now? He thought. Certainly not this. She would fight; she was always stronger than him even when she was just a little silent baby lying in his arms.
But his mind wandered. What would Clarke be doing right now? He didn't know. Clarke always seemed too surprising. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
He decided to fight. Bellamy's arms were too weak for him to pull himself back up to the wall, so he crawled, slowly, but surely.
As always, Clarke clouded his thoughts. And, as always, she showed up.
"…Raven, I'm down the East corridor. No sign of anybody yet." It was her voice. She was walking towards him, and for once in Bellamy's time in Mount Weather, he wanted her to stay, hallucination or not.
This hallucination was different than the others and Bellamy's shoulder where she touched felt just like every other part of his body: in red hot pain. He took a shuddering breath, and she finally noticed him. Through the haze of Bellamy's tears, he watched as she dropped the radio she was holding.
"Bellamy?" she said. It sounded so real.
I'm dying, he thought.
"Oh my God," she still hadn't moved from where she stood, feet away.
Bellamy reached towards her, wheezing as he brought his arm out. "Clarke…" he nearly whispered, and over all the noise, the alarm, the white noise in his ears, she heard him.
She ran at him, the same way she did at Camp Jaha, but this time Bellamy knew that she wasn't real. This time Bellamy was going to die.
He could hear Raven through the other side of the radio. "Clarke?" she asked through the static. "Did something happen? Are you okay?"
About two feet from him, Clarke fell to her knees and the momentum caused her to slide to him. "Bellamy," she didn't touch him, didn't hug him. Bellamy knew the real Clarke enough that she wouldn't hug him. He was too hurt for hugs. He was too hurt for anything.
Her hands cupped his face and for a second Bellamy wondered where the real Clarke is. "Jesus, Bellamy," her bright blue eyes filled with tears.
That's another reason why Bellamy knew that she wasn't real. She was crying. The real Clarke didn't care. "Clarke, you're not real." Bellamy tried to keep his voice strong, but it was so hoarse and his throat scratched against every single one of his words.
"What?" Clarke asked, her voice cracking over the alarm. Bellamy started leaning forward, his eyelids getting heavier at her voice. She was putting him to sleep. Clarke shook him, her fingers tightening on his cheeks. "Bellamy, you need to stay awake. I don't know how much blood you've lost, I…" she trailed off, taking a small gasp. "Oh God, Bell, look at you."
Bellamy flinched when she called him Bell. He weakly pushed her off of him and tried to get up, closing his eyes. "You're not real," he said louder. "You've been there every day. Leave me alone. Leave me alone!" he couldn't look at her.
He fell again, and Clarke was there. "Bellamy, I am real. We need to get you out of here. We couldn't find you, I thought – I thought that –" her voice cracked and she didn't finish.
Bellamy tried to push her away again but Clarke's hands found his cheeks again and she put her forehead against his. She was sweaty, she was out of breath and she shook against him.
"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice cracked. His beat up hands found her arms. "Clarke?" he knew he should say something else, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Come on," she pulled him up, straining under his weight. "Come on, we have to get out of here."
Raven's radio was still throwing out questions. "I'm serious!" Raven yelled. "If you aren't fucking back, Clarke, I'll – please! Can you answer?"
"I'm here," Clarke grabbed the radio. Her cheeks were flushed and her words were rushed. "I found him. We can find our way out of here, I have map in my pocket. Over."
There was a pause, as if Raven was thinking. Then, "okay," she said. "But be careful. Over."
Clarke put the radio in her pocket and knelt down beside Bellamy, slinging his arm over her shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain. "Oh, shit," Clarke said as he winced.
"Is Octavia okay?" he asked, his teeth clenched as Clarke basically dragged him towards the way she came. He tried to stand up straight, but he just ended up leaning more into her. She grunted over his weight.
"She's fine," Clarke said. "So is Lincoln, actually. He's sorry." She glanced at Bellamy and he clenched his teeth. "I should have seen it coming, really, that's how drugs and addiction work—"
"—Clarke, I think you should leave me here." Bellamy said sternly.
Clarke stopped in her tracks, her boots squeaking on the hardwood floors. "What?" She asked. "Why?"
"I'm just slowing you down," he lips were cracked and he licked them even though there was no moisture in his mouth. "I'm not worth it."
Clarke grew rigid underneath his arm. She started to say something but trailed off. Bellamy didn't acknowledge her. She was the reason all of this happened to him. She was the reason. "We have to hurry, Bellamy…" She started to say.
"I hate you," he lied. "I hate you." Maybe hatred would get him to push her away like she did to him, make her go ahead and get to safety. He couldn't be responsible for Clarke's death.
Clarke didn't answer. Bellamy hoped that she believed him and also that she didn't. Her stride faltered, and so did her breathing. "Do you want water?" her voice cracked as she reached into her bag, pulling it out. Bellamy took it from her hand and tried to ignore the jolt he got from brushing her fingers with his.
After chugging the rest of Clarke's water, Bellamy shook. He felt energy course through him, for only a moment, and it was enough. The words were flowing out of his mouth and he couldn't stop. His head ached and his arms ached and his entire body ached but the thing that hurt the most was his heart, his chest. "If Finn was still alive, would it be worth the risk?" he spat towards her.
He found it easy to hate Clarke. It was easier to hate her than to love her, he concluded.
"Bellamy, I didn't mean that—"
He pushed her away. Of course, he was weak but she was stumbling away from him anyway. "What ever happened to you won't be alone? I was alone. I was dying, and you said it was worth the risk."
Her mouth was partly open, and she her shoulders shook with her heavy breathing. Bellamy studied her then; how her eyes were swollen and puffy with purple shadows underneath and how she swayed as if trying not to fall asleep while she stood. "How are you here?" Bellamy looked up and down the hallway. The alarm stopped, but the ringing in his ears continued.
"Lexa and I – we got ahold of Jasper, who said that he never saw you. Jasper turned off the fog we got in the same way the Reapers do…" she trailed off as Bellamy looked away from her. "It's a long story. Look – I'm sorry, Bellamy. You don't know how sorry I am."
Bellamy glanced back at her; at Clarke Griffin, his Princess. But she wasn't his, and she most certainly wasn't Finn's. Clarke Griffin was an extraordinary girl who didn't need anybody and she could take care of herself. She wasn't anybody's.
Bellamy wasn't like that.
He needed her. Oh, God, he needed her so bad it ached almost more than his bones did.
Clarke's puffy eyes and shadowed features told something as she stared at him; she wasn't sleeping. And maybe that was because of her being nervous for Mount Weather, but he had to be sure.
"When was the last time you slept?" his voice caught. He hated it when he did that.
Clarke looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know. I didn't know what happened to you, and it was my entire fault. I should have…" she shrugged, her chin wobbling for a second and nothing more, so fast that Bellamy thought it was a trick of his eye. "I don't know. I should have gone with you."
"They know who you are, Clarke," Bellamy said. "It doesn't work like that."
Clarke nodded. "I'm sorry, okay?" her voice cracked.
"You broke me," he said. Clarke didn't reply. She looked at her feet, still swaying. There was a pause. "But," he said. Clarke looked up, her eyes full of hope and unshed tears. "I think breaking me broke you, too."
She didn't say anything after that, and she didn't have to. Bellamy reached towards her and she was stock still but he was already started moving and he wasn't going to stop now. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close to him. He wasn't strong enough to force her, but she came towards him anyway. He kissed her; slow and sweet.
Clarke's mouth was so warm. It was hard to imagine how she could have been so cold to him but she was just so incredibly warm; her neck underneath Bellamy's hand was burning, and he was positive that if he touched her arm he would be scorched. He knew that her eyes were open the whole time. He didn't see it, he just knew. I shouldn't be doing this, a voice in the back of his head was saying. But Bellamy was dying and if he died before he kissed Clarke Griffin he wasn't going to be very happy.
Her lip vibrated against his as she spoke. "Bellamy," she mumbled. He didn't know what to take of that so he pulled away. Her mouth was open, like she had something else to say but she couldn't find the words. Bellamy knew what that felt like. She was looking up at him with her beautiful blue eyes – he was so much taller than her. Bellamy always forgot about their height differences because she held herself as twenty feet tall, not five foot five, or however tall she was.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking down the hallway that Clarke came through. "We should be going now," he changed the subject, his heart getting caught in his throat. "They'll come back." Clarke nodded and didn't reply. Bellamy didn't know what to take of that.
She slung his arm over her shoulders again, and hugged his waist. Bellamy's lips tingled and he wondered how it could have been so wrong and yet so right – but it all stopped when the voice from the other end of the corridor yelled at them.
"Hey, stop right there!" they said. Clarke grew rigid and Bellamy cursed. The high he got when he saw Clarke was gone now, replaced with a sense of fatigue that he knew Clarke wouldn't be able to carry out of Mount Weather. "You're not supposed to be in here."
Clarke glanced at Bellamy, slowly putting her hand to the waistband of her pants, hovering over the spot where her gun was. "Put your hands in the air," the man ordered.
"If I put my hands in the air, he'll fall," Clarke said.
"He's just a Grounder. There's thousands more where he came from." Bellamy glanced back at Clarke. She was wearing clean clothes with an absence of blood and grime. The man thought that she lived in the mountain. Through the haze Bellamy smirked. Clarke was always cleverer than he was.
Clarke glanced at Bellamy, and then let him go. He tried to stay standing, but he just fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He closed his eyes, dark spots danced across his vision. Bellamy heard a couple of gunshots and then Clarke was there, pulling him up, away from pain and towards freedom.
Bellamy didn't know if it was another hallucination or if it was real, but when Clarke half-carried, half-dragged him towards the door, he felt her lips touch his temple. "We're gonna get you out of this, Bellamy," she said.
He smiled into her arm.