AN: Hey, so this is my first 'The 100' Fanfic. Hope you guys like it. I do not own anything. I fell in love with the show a few weeks ago after stumbling on it accidentally on the internet. Please read and review.

Go Bellarke! Who else feels the connection there?

Chapter 1

"You ready?"

"Yeah, I think so." Clarke positioned the gun like Bellamy had told her to. She looked across the open field to where the target was painted on the tree trunk with berries.

"Steady."

She lifted the gun up a little so she could see the target through the lens.

"Slowly aim. Take your time"

She adjusted the gun, until she thought that it was in the centre.

"Shoot."

Listening to Bellamy's command she pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet leaving the hole rung in their ears, but it was too fast to see. Guns were a fast and lethal weapon, something Clarke didn't like, but the feel of having a gun in her hand when she's surrounded by grounders who have only spears and arrows sent a little bit of relief and peace through her body.

"Well done, only a few centimetres off." Bellamy said while examining the bullet hole. Then he turned around and headed back to her. "I think that's it for today. You have patients waiting for you."

"I managed to go through everyone in the morning. I have just one more check-up."

"Finn?"

"How did you know?"

"Well," he looked down at her while taking the gun from her hands. "lately you've been leaving his check-up's 'til last. You're trying to avoid him, but the fact that he's got a huge wound on the side doesn't help as you are our only doctor."

"I'm not a doctor."

"But the closest as we'll ever to get to one."

"I'm not trying to avoid him. I just don't want to talk to him and e thinks that we should."

"Talk about what, his girlfriend? What is there to talk about?"

"He thinks there was something 'special' between us and that he never thought Raven would come down."

Bellamy took his eyes of hers and stared at the gun in his hand. His eyes were glazed over with something Clarke couldn't read, concern? Worry? Sadness? Jealousy? "Was there something between you?"

"I don't know."

"You surely must have felt the connection when you kissed or touched." He looked hurt, broken. Since when does Bellamy Blake look like this? Since when did he talk without making rude comments?

"I need to go."

The wound was healing. Fast, for a wound so serious, but too slow for her liking.

"I heard your training started with Bellamy, why him?" Finn asked as he propped himself up on to his right elbow.

"What do you mean? Everyone is starting training, and Bellamy is one of the only few who 'properly' knows how to use them."

"Yeah, he is 'one' of the people who knows, but why is it him training you and not any of the 'other' few?"

" 'Cause he started teaching me how to use one in the bunker, so there is only sense to it if he continues what he started."

"That's a lame excuse. There was something between us and you know it."

"There was nothing."

"You felt it Clarke I know you did." He tried to reach for her hand, but she moved it away.

"As I said, nothing. I felt nothing. I thought there was something, but I was lonely. I was still recovering from Wells' death." With that she walked out of the tent. It was midday, so the sun was directly above her. Clarke sighed as she closed her eyes and took a big stretch. She didn't know what to do with the rest of the day. There were no injuries so far and she had checked on all of the other patients. Clarke wandered around the camp.

They had developed a lot since they landed. They were one big family now. No one was left out. Everyone had an important job in their society.

Clarke spotted Bellamy and took a second to admire him. He changed so much since yesterday; the illusions, almost getting killed, their moment under the tree and of course Councillor Jaha forgiving him. The change was for the better. She could see it in the way he talked to her now. The respect and the concern reflected in his voice. He cared about her that was for sure.

He looked more relaxed as he sat there on a log taking apart a gun and cleaning the grease off it. She went over to him.

"Hey, do you mind?" She asked referring to the space beside him.

"No," he scooted over to let her sit down. "finished with 'him'?" Clarke looked at him trying to read his face, she wasn't sure what he meant, checking the wound or him altogether?

"Yeah." There was an uncomfortable silence. "So… do you need help?"

"Sure. Nothing better to do? Huh?" He let the famous Bellamy Blake smirk reach his lips.

"No." She giggled at the fake hurt he put on his face. "But first, you're gonna need to teach me how to do that before I could help you."

"No problem, princess."