He almost doesn't see it. The way her eyes dance across the 100 like they're her children. Well, the 99. She doesn't see herself as fragile, and he doesn't think she ever even looks at him. But one day, after the biggest fight they've had, a fight that almost blew the half built wall over, he sees it. She's so angry that those blue eyes are comically large and her lips are pursed so tight he's sure they're going to draw in on themselves and swallow her whole. He hopes they'll swallow her whole. It would be a moment of silence if they did. But, while he's shouting at her about how idiotic it is to go wandering around on the outside of the wall without a god damn escort, he sees those comically huge blue eyes dance away from his and sweep across the crowd gathered round them.

She said through gritted teeth, "We should take this out of the middle of the camp, Bellamy."

"Why, Princess? Afraid to let people see you get mad?" He taunted, looking around at his-their people. "Afraid to shake off your composure."

"No," she hissed, "I'm afraid I'll kill you in front of this group and scare them worse than they already are."

"You wouldn't dare try anything."

She raised her hand and jabbed him in the chest with her freakishly sharp pointer finger. She spat out two words, accentuating them with a hard stab to his chest. "Bet. Me."

"Fine then, princess," he snarled. He bent forward and Clarke stared in surprise in the second it took him to shove his shoulder into her stomach and rise again, throwing her over his shoulder. His arm looped around the backs of her thighs, just above her knees and he cried out, "I'm going to give the princess a spanking. Get back to work!"

Clarke hit his back as hard as she could while he carried her away from the prying eyes of the other 100. By the time he got her to his tent, he was sure he even had bite marks up and down the flesh. He put her on her feet and growled, "Lucky Spacewalker wasn't out there for that. I can't deal with two belligerent idiots right now."

"You're the one being an idiot! I was barely outside the wall!"

"It's still outside the wall! Do you want to die? Because, as easy as it would be for me to accept, we kind of need the healer around."

"And we definitely need to watch our fighting around them. We're their leaders, and they are kids!"

"You're barely older than them!"

"I was the closest to eighteen when we were sent down here! We've been down here, what, two weeks? Two and a half? Do you know what that means? In a week and a half, I'll be eighteen, Bellamy. So shove that up your ass!"

He was taken aback, both by the reminder that she was nearly his equal in age, and by the curse that slid past her lips. He stared down at her for a second and then let his face settle into its usual smirk. "Fine, princess. No more leaving the gates without an escort, and we won't fight in front of the children anymore."

"Good." She nodded curtly, spun on her heel, and stomped away, leaving Bellamy alone in her tent.

He'd kill to have her there with him. Her and all of their "children." He'd always pretended not to notice that the rest of the 100 (except Octavia and Finn) called them "mom and dad." Not because it bothered him, but because it was easier to seem intimidating if the rest of them didn't know that he liked being the head of the family. One of the heads of the family. Because if he thought Clarke wasn't just as equal as he was, he was a damn fool.

He looked down at the handcuffs so tight on his wrist that they would leave more marks than the wristbands on the 100 when they'd first landed. He needed her there with him, not out there with God knows what. He needed her to tell Kane that he wasn't a bad guy. He needed her to tell Kane that Murphy deserved to get his ass kicked, that Murphy deserved much worse than a solid ass kicking. He just needed her.

"Bellamy," Finn's voice was a whisper through the canvas blocking the door. They didn't even bother assigning him a guard. They were too busy running around like headless chickens to stop and realize they had 4 of the 100, a stowaway criminal, and a love stricken rebel that had survived the ground for months and could very easily give them advice. But they weren't looking to Murphy, Bellamy, Finn, or the two kids in the woods, and he doubted Raven could answer very many questions while she was in her condition.

"What, Finn?" Bellamy's voice rarely rose above growl and talking to Spacewalker didn't entice him into a reasonable volume.

"Do you think she's dead?"

The question froze the blood in Bellamy's veins. There didn't have to be an explanation of who "she" was. Finn wouldn't ask about Octavia. Finn wouldn't care about his sister's life. It was only Clarke that would do that, and it was only Clarke that Finn was asking about.

"I think she's too damn stubborn to die," Bellamy bit out, trying to ignore the pain that bloomed heavy and sharp in his chest.