So I'm finally back in the fanfiction world. Not that I've actually left it, but school flushed out all the inspiration and drive to write any sort of fanfic. Now school is done, so I have both time and inspiration to create fanfics. Yay!
The only problem now is that all I've been writing these past few months are academic papers and I have lost the ability to write fanfic as I used to. I only hope that it isn't so bad. I tried really hard and I hope you, guys, will like it.
As usual, this is filled with angst. Heavy angst but not too heavy, I guess.
The silence of the forest is something that she has never been used to even after 6 years of staying in this sole spot of green. Trees rise above her, their branches barely fully mature. Their leaves rustle as the wind blows, bringing a faint smell of what is supposed to be that of Praimfaya. Her boots are as brown as the dirt on the almost bare ground.
It's beautiful, Clarke thinks. She witnessed the earth slowly recovering and maturing as the years passed by. Today could have been peaceful just as any other day in the last 6 years. But it really isn't.
Clarke grips the rifle tighter, her knuckles bare white and her teeth gritted, as she navigates through the forest as quietly as possible.
A loud rumble stops her.
That must be the Eligius Mining ship. She has heard of it a couple of times when her parents were talking on the Ark, when her mom mentioned it once in the camp. There's not much she could pick up on those few times. That only means that she should be extra careful.
The sound came from the west. She switches route and presses on, silently praying that Madi has safely returned to the lab. One could say that Clarke doesn't want trouble anymore. Looking back, she had switched overnight from a perfectly normal girl from the Ark into a fierce leader that represented the whole population of the Ark. Honestly, she never wanted that. Before all of this, all she wanted was to create art with her precious set of charcoal. She had always been detached from politics unlike her parents who were esteemed leaders and influential in that regard.
When the Dropship landed on the Ground, they were immediately launched into a pit of challenges, playing nonstop with the games of life and death. The Grounders. The Mountain Men. The Ark. They formed new relationships. They lost a lot of people. They fought and fought. It just never seemed to stop. Now she had 6 years of peace and silence. She should be happy.
But in all honesty, she found that a small part of her had missed it. The thrill of it all. Or perhaps she's just too tired of waiting for everyone else to come back. True, she wants peace, but 6 years of doing nothing was something else.
Not too far from when she heard the sound, the scent of smoke and oil reaches her nose. No doubt that she is close to its landing site. Being on guard, she removes the safety off her rifle. She really hopes that she doesn't have to use it again. Slowly, she makes her way deeper into the forest, her steps deliberate, her thoughts focused on simply getting what she needed and leaving without being spotted.
The sound of dried leaves crunching under solid boots from a distance makes her freeze, her body taut with alertness. Of course, they would send someone from the ship. She just hopes that they weren't hostile, but she doubts it. Then she realizes that explaining how she had survived Praimfaya would even be more unbelievable. The chances becomes even smaller.
She decides that she won't reveal herself unless necessary. Waiting for the sounds to fade, she braces herself before peeking from the giant tree that blocked her from the intruder.
It was something that she hadn't expected.
At that moment, everything stops.
There he stands with a gun in his hand in an all too familiar way. His back is facing her but there's no doubt that those dark curls and strong shoulders belong to only one person.
Tears sting her eyes. Warmth blossoms from her chest and travels down to her feet.
This is real. He is real. After 6 long years of waiting and hoping that she'd get to see him.
He is finally here.
He turns around. God, she had never thought that Bellamy Blake and beards would work that well. He had grown older, rougher around the edges like a revision of an old book. So new yet so familiar. She can see the same strong features that she missed so much. His curly hair that always seemed so soft. His dark brown eyes that saw right through her very soul. His damn freckles that she never seemed to draw properly. A tear escapes from her eye, rolling down her cheek.
Fuck.
Why can't she move? She stands there frozen in place, her body numb with his stare searching deep within her soul. She wants to laugh and to cry at the same time. She wants to run towards him and bury herself in his warm embrace. To feel his strong arms around her waist. To hear her name fall from his lips. To hear his deep voice sending ripples down her belly.
Yet, she didn't. She can't.
She can't because he suddenly lifts his rifle and points it straight at her; but not before a flicker of surprise passes over his eyes, vanishing into something that confuses Clarke.
"Don't move."
His voice rumbles across the clearing. Yet it's his next words that sends her whole world tumbling down.
"Who are you?"
Her world spirals deeper and deeper down. Her vision blurs with hot tears. And the next thing she knows trees are zooming past her, her breathing short and shallow, her legs burning into numbness. After all, that is what she does best, isn't it?
She runs and runs until her world turns black.
The first thing she thinks of when sunlight shines over her closed eyes is how much they hurt and how swollen they feel. Her throat is far too dry and her nose is stuffy with snot. The trees above her barely shields her eyes but it's enough to open as wide as her swollen eyes can.
An object that seems like a cup appears over her eyes.
"Water."
Clarke recognizes the voice as Madi's. She blinks a few times before she truly processed her little Natblida's words. Her eyes find Madi's that was filled disbelief. Probably because of her pitiful state. Apparently, she had made her way to the makeshift house that they had build over the peaceful years. Which also meant that Madi disobeyed her. Again.
"I told you to go to the lab," she croaks out, her voice grinding against her dry throat as she pushes herself to sit up.
Madi simply rolls her eyes like any teenager would. "You're welcome."
If it was any other day, she would have scolded her. But feeling the tiredness and weariness settling into her bones, she really doesn't have it in her to argue anymore. Instead, she reaches for the cup of water and finishes it in one big gulp.
Madi refills her cup again, eyeing her carefully. "There's more if you want. I prepared stew."
Almost five years of being together taught Clarke all of Madi's ways. Clarke knows that side-eyed look she gets when she's lying, the flailing arms when she's excited, and that change in tone when she's being cautious. Of course, Madi will notice. Clarke isn't exactly hiding the puffy eyes and stuffed nose. Her mind flashes back to the curly haired man that she had once known.
That she doesn't know anymore.
The mere thought sends a dipping feeling in her gut. A certain emptiness that serves as a glimpse of what it feels if he was truly gone from her life.
A nudge brings her thoughts back to Madi who almost thrusts the bowl of stew to her face. The smell makes her stomach rumble even though her appetite is nowhere to be found. She mechanically gobbled up the food that eases her hunger yet it did nothing to soothe the aching numbness of her heart.
She has always wondered what would happen on the day they saw each other again. Will he see her first or would she see him first? Will he cry? Well, she is almost certain that she would because even just the thought of seeing him and hearing him once more is enough to make her eyes sting. Will he simply smile and open his strong arms to welcome her in his embrace? Then she will run so fast until she crashes right into him, until she can feel his body pressing to hers, until she can hear his voice again.
Never once did she see this coming.
She feels Madi's hands brushing against her fingers as she takes the empty bowl from her hands. The look of worry and caution Madi sent her way isn't hard to miss. Clarke doesn't say anything and Madi doesn't push. For that, she was grateful.
She spends the day staring at the distance in another one of her favorite spots on a cliff by the lake. Occasionally, her mind drifts off to him. Remembering him. Remembering the moments that they had through thick and thin. But most of the time, she sits there doing nothing but simply feeling the growing emptiness in her heart.
It isn't until she feels Madi tugging at the hem of her shirt that she realizes the sun has almost set. They silently make their way back to their camp where Madi hands her another bowl of the stew from the morning.
She isn't sure if she sleeps immediately or if she spends some time staring at the fire until spots dance in front of her eyes.
It doesn't really matter anyway.
Madi is uncharacteristically quiet.
Not that she is that talkative either, but there's something in her silence that's different. She keeps on darting her eyes everywhere as she's wary of something. Her movements are filled with caution as she maneuvers around the camp. She keeps in biting her lower lips until Clarke points out that it's bleeding.
She flushes slightly as if Clarke caught her. She uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the blood off her lips, not saying anything.
Actually, Clarke has seen this version of Madi. Five years ago. This is the exact same Madi that she saw when they were still building trust on each other. She moves as if someone would come at them at any moment, her movements stiff, her eyes alert. They continue to walk in silence with Madi leading the way and Clarke trailing behind her as she studies her little Nightblood and makes sure that they avoid the recent landing site.
It's probably because of the ship, Clarke decides. She doesn't blame her for trying to be more cautious. Especially when she herself is being more careful as well. Who knows what they want?
Suddenly she feels a prickle on the back of her neck together with an eerie feeling that someone is following them. Must be someone from the ship. Him. Something she can't explain blooms in her chest. The thought makes her giddy and scared altogether. It's insane.
She stops herself before anything else happens, before her hopes get up. After all, he doesn't...
"Madi, go back to camp." she says in Trigedasleng.
Madi turns around with surprise in her eyes before she nods, seemingly unsure of Clarke's decision. She waits until Madi's back disappears into the tree trunks.
The sound of twigs breaking alerts her of his presence. She wonders what she would see if she turned around. Will his gun still be raised at her? Will he look at her with alarm in his eyes? She never knows because, no, she isn't going to look at her. She perfectly knows that she won't be able to handle it well.
He stops walking when the silence of the forest falls between them. And she waits and waits until he speaks which doesn't seem like he's planning on doing any time soon. Perhaps he is just as speechless as she is. She suddenly wonders if he can feel this connection that they once had and that they apparently still have even with his lost memories.
She's not sure how long the silence lasts before she decides to say something without turning around to look at him.
"Don't follow me," she simply says.
"Wait."
Even a single word from those lips sends her stomach dipping and her heart racing. She is suddenly grateful that she decided not to show her face because she isn't sure if she can act as tough and as unaffected as she should be.
"What's your name?"
And she almost tells him but she catches herself before she can. She also wills her body to move away from him. A few meters ahead she sees Madi waiting for her with an unreadable expression. She doesn't even notice that Madi has once again ignored her order.
Because even when she had traveled meters away, her mind remained there with him.
Perhaps along with her heart as well.
The next few days were more peaceful. In fact, she has almost forgotten of the Eligius ship's existence. Madi is slowly becoming more and more like her usual self. Except Clarke notices that she doesn't ask for anymore stories about Skaikru. About the 100. About Bellamy.
Madi didn't ask anything about what she saw the past days, so Clarke doesn't push her either. Sooner or later it will happen anyway. Just not now.
She waits until they finish lunch before she sets out towards the lake a few meters away from the camp.
She's become better at coping, she thinks. After all, she has 6 years to work on that. So he is never truly gone from her mind. Never a fleeting moment. Her Bellamy is always there right by her side, silently nodding at her when he knows she needs approval, giving her that small smile when tells stories of their adventures with the 100, enveloping her in his warmth when she needs strength. It isn't enough. Of course, it isn't because it's not real.
The lake water glimmers before her with the sun shining brightly above the horizon. She sits by the cliff, her feet dangling freely. Her eyes flickers to her sketchbook.
She feels the leathery cover with trembling fingers and traces the cracking edges and the poorly sewn thread that held the pages together. It was the first sketchbook that she had put together. It only took one month to fill the pages with the faces of her people, her mom and her friends. She willed herself to remember each of their faces. Each stroke brought back a memory, whether sad or happy, and she cherished every moment.
The first few pages hold pictures of her father. It was an attempt to hold on to the fading memory of the late Jake Griffin. She refused to think that she was struggling to remember some features of her father's face, so she drew and drew until she could almost draw his portrait with her eyes closed. The next was a portrait of her mom. Their relationship had been bad once but it was getting better. She can't help the tears from falling down her eyes because, oh how much she misses her mom. She longs to build the remaining holes in their relationship and to feel the warmth of a mother's love.
She stops, looking back to the pining stare of her mother's charcoal eyes. It feels like she's daring her to flip the page. She doesn't. Not when she knows whose face she'll see, whose dark curls she'll long to feel under her fingers.
Then she hears a rustle to her far right. Instinct brings her hand to the pistol strapped to her thigh and causes her legs to push her standing in caution. When she looks up, he finds herself staring at those brown eyes that she was just thinking about.
"I won't do anything. I promise."
It's when he puts his rifle down that she realizes those brown eyes weren't the same ones that she was thinking about. He makes a show of raising his hands in the air and kicking the rifle away from him. Clarke contemplates for a while before she decides to lower her gun but not let go. She sees his eyes flicker to the gun in her hand before he slowly tries to step towards her.
Her first instinct is to step back because this man isn't Bellamy and she refuses to believe otherwise. Yet she catches herself for some reason that she herself doesn't even understand and lets him walk closer. He stops before she could even open her mouth to tell him so.
That makes her stop, her body growing tense as heat flows down her spine. It doesn't stop because he holds her gaze for as long as she remembers. The heat grows and grows as she gets lost in the chocolate brown of his warm eyes until white sparks explodes in her body. She doesn't find anything behind his gaze, but she finds something stirring inside her heart.
At first, it chips, letting a small portion of their memories flow out. She remembers the first time she met him when his eyes were still filled with red hot anger because of how cold and harsh life has been on him. His eyes send glares everywhere she was and at everything she does.
Then it starts to crack. The lines slowly traveled as bits and pieces fell, opening her heart a little more. It sends her back to the Dropship days when they both sat by the radio with headsets on as the crackling voice of Jaha speaks to them. She remembers how his gaze made her feel warm that moment. She doesn't know how glares turned into warm gazes and playful glances, but it did happen. The feeling grows stronger when she tries to remember how words traveled between their stares, how easy they seem to understand each other, how connected they were.
A sound rings out breaking the raging stream of emotions between them. She realizes that tears are rolling down her cheeks when he blinks a few times. He fishes something out of his pocket. A small grows on his face before he returns it into his pocket and he looks at her again.
It isn't the same as before, not as heavy, not as emotionally charged, but it still sparked something in her chest that threatened to spill more tears down her cheeks. The moment seems to stretch before he opens his mouth.
"At least tell me your name."
She doesn't tell him, nor does she shake her head. She simply looks at him with an unreadable set of eyes, she hopes. Sensing that she isn't willing to share that information, he nods disappointingly at himself. He does not break eye contact as he slowly crouches down to retrieve his rifle. Though before he leaves, he turns his head over his shoulder as if he needed one last look at her.
When his figure disappears into the forest, the dam breaks open. Tears stream down her face as her knees wobbled underneath her. She crashes into the ground, letting out a sob not because of the pain of her fall but because of the pain in her heart, because of...
That.
That strong connection that they've always had. They've always been so in sync, their actions, their minds, their decisions. And it scares her so much because how could he read her so easily when they only knew each other for such a short time? One look is all he needs and he understands everything.
Her hand finds the almost forgotten sketchbook. It now showed a drawing of him. Dark curls almost bouncing with life, dark eyes crinkled at the corners, handsome face splattered with constellations of freckles, chiseled jaw stretched into a warm smile. The tears make silent noises they fall down her eyes, soaking through the pages.
"Bellamy..."
The original plan was to post this monster one shot fic, but I changed my mind. Now I'm chopping it into a few chapters around 2 or 3.
Tell me what you think? Reviews make writing easier!