I was originally going to put this up individually but then I realised I'm probably going to want to write something for every episode this season so I decided to start a drabble series instead.
This came to me recently while listening to Taylor Swift's Safe and Sound, which made me think of 3x03 and what could possibly lay in that episode's future.
If you guys have any ideas for future drabbles that the current episode made you think of, send them to me on Tumblr where I'm mrslackles.
I hope this salves any hurt that came from last night's episode. I haven't watched it yet but am about to. Also, I haven't written much Bellarke but I really hope you like this – please let me know.
Enjoy :)
3x03
Rated: T
safe and sound
She's trapped. He sees it in her eyes.
Nia VS Lexa and she's doomed either way. Lexa's still denying it, still pretending that Clarke can make it out of this alive. But she's in the middle and they'll have to go through her to put an end to this once and for all.
He has a different way.
"Clarke," he breathes.
Three pairs of eyes turn to him and it's the familiar blue ones that scare him.
"Bellamy, go."
She's breathless. She knows she's going to die. She's accepted it.
He hasn't. He won't.
"No."
"Bellamy, please."
Lexa shifts, her gaze returning to fix on Nia. "If he doesn't go, he dies. This is between the three of us."
Clarke starts to cry, angry and scared, as she looks from the Commander to him.
"Bellamy, I said go."
"No!" he growls back. "I'll never let you go."
Mentally, he needs her. And he's not willing to relinquish his grasp even if he could.
And she cries because she knows he knows it too – she's willing to die here today and it will be a relief. She's been carrying too much for too long. Everything she's done since the moment she walked away from him has been to punish herself.
He knows. He understands. He feels it too. He feels what she does, that's how they work.
"Clarke," he starts, low and slow, "come over here."
Her eyes are wild and Lexa finally looks at the blonde.
"Don't move, Clarke."
She meets her eyes and Bellamy says her name again so she'll look at him once more.
"Do you trust me?"
She doesn't say or do anything; doesn't even nod, and his stomach sinks.
"You move and you die," Nia finally speaks. "My army is right outside, as you know."
Clarke looks at her then slowly shifts her gaze back to him.
He tries to tell her with his eyes that she's safe with him; that she always will be.
She's barrelled into him before. He hadn't been expecting it; hadn't been expecting an armful of the woman he'd die for grasping onto him as if she'd truly missed him.
He doesn't expect it now either.
Like a bolt she takes off, runs, right into his arms.
"Raven, now!" he screams before the Queen can blink.
He wraps Clarke up tight and instantly spins them so it's his body that absorbs the blast.
They're blown away as the ground explodes and falls from beneath Lexa and Nia. They fall away – Grounders, groundless – but he focuses only on holding Clarke as tight as possible as they slam into the ground.
He feels cement and glass embed in his skin; feels brick fly at him; feels Clarke dig her face into his shoulder.
Finally they come to a rolling stop and she's holding on so tight he has to remember to breathe.
"Bellamy," she says, meeting his eyes, her face still tear-stained.
"It was the only way," he says, his voice breaking in the middle.
She doesn't say anything and he tries in vain to read her face; to find out whether she hates him for it.
"We have to go," he growls, trying to move.
"You're hurt," she shakes her head. "And they'll never let us leave."
He'll be hurt once she's safe. Right now he can't care or think about the pain.
And the truth is, they walk right out.
The Commander and the Ice Queen both lost with one fell swoop. There's so much frenzied chaos that nobody cares about the curly-haired boy shielding the blonde from the world with every ounce of himself he has.
all those shadows almost killed your light
"You can't come back to camp."
"I know," Bellamy nods.
"Kane is gonna be pissed."
"I know."
Raven shoots a glance at Clarke. She hasn't said anything. She's trembling, standing a little away from them, looking off into the distance. There's fire and screaming and utter black-smoked chaos in Polis but he can't let himself think about that either.
"Still remember the way?"
He nods brusquely and she nods back. He looks at her leg.
"You ok to drive?"
She scoffs. "You're the one who just survived an explosion."
"A damn impressive explosion."
She'd placed the charges exactly where they'd been standing and told him precisely how far away he had to be to make it out alive.
She shrugs, smirking. "I outdo myself."
With that she limps off to where they left the vehicle.
He hesitates then turns to Clarke.
Her eyes flit up to his. "Where's she going?"
"Arkadia."
"Where are we going?"
"Not there."
She's ok to walk so he sets off at a brisk pace, ignoring the throbbing in his thigh and the dull ache of the shrapnel in his arm and face.
Minutes and minutes go by without either of them saying a word.
"Are you mad at me?" she eventually asks.
"No." He grits his teeth when the stab wound shoots a fresh round of pain up into his gut. "Why would I be mad? All you did was stay when I asked you to come home, let Lexa manipulate you into a weakened position again, were ready to let yourself die, and then tell me to leave you there."
She grabs his arm, forcing him to a stop.
"I didn't see any other way out. I didn't know what else to do."
"You don't give up!" he accuses.
"I'm so tired," she counters, her face falling, "Bellamy, I'm so tired."
His features soften as her tone does. He looks at her, really stares right at her.
"You don't tell me to leave you there."
She stares back at him.
"I couldn't let you die for me."
He shakes his head, walking off. Why can't she understand that he would, if he had to? Why can't she understand that he would rather than know she had and he'd done nothing?
She hasn't moved.
"I told you I can't lose you, too. Why can't you understand that?"
Furious, he spins to face her again.
"Why can't you understand that I can't lose you either?!"
She stares at him with her lips parted, struck by his confession.
He hadn't meant to say it.
We can't lose her is all he'd let himself admit this far. But it's the truth all the same. Now it's made it out and it hangs there in the air between them.
Alone, maybe it wouldn't mean too much. Combined with her own confession and everything he's done to get to her, it means everything.
Instantly he looks away. "We should get going."
He walks off and she follows, both of them with words stuck in their throats that they have no idea how to say.
no one can hurt you now
She gasps. He's never brought her here before.
"Where are we?"
"It's a garage. For a mall, or something. It's where we got all the cars. Everything roadworthy, anyway."
There are still some sedans and some fancy cars; an SUV they couldn't get to start.
But as they make their way to the back of the parking garage they find what Bellamy had discovered two months ago.
"It's a trailer," Clarke marvels.
He nods. "Monty helped me get the water running. It's kind of a pain to lug it all here but the shower kind of makes it worth it."
"You live here?"
"Sometimes." He doesn't meet her eyes. "When looking at them becomes too much."
She sucks in a breath and he knows she remembers.
Seeing their faces every day, it's just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here.
What we did.
"Come on," he says before she has the chance to speak, opening the door for her.
She shoots him a glance but he doesn't meet it and she steps inside.
"Do you have a med kit?"
"Right here," he says from behind her.
There's barely any moving room in here usually – adding another person hasn't helped the problem. They shift and manoeuvre so he can move around her and then once again when he comes back.
He passes it to her then sits on the bed, looking up at her.
"Take off your shirt," she instructs.
He thinks of arguing then does what she says.
She stares at him, at his bare chest, for a moment longer than he's used to, and he finds himself ducking his head sheepishly.
She clears her throat and opens the med kit.
"This place is really clean and orderly," she notes, making conversation.
"You seem surprised."
She pulls a piece of shrapnel from his arm and he grits his teeth.
"You are a guy."
"You forget my mom raised me."
He hisses as she dabs at the wound, sanitising it.
"I forget a lot of things about you," she says, her tone strange.
He's about to ask, press, when she continues.
"What's the plan?"
"The plan?"
"Do we just stay down here forever?"
He smiles. "If we have to."
He feels bad about the reply immediately, his neck snapping up so he can look at her, but she's smiling a little too.
"I'm going to be Public Enemy number one," she muses.
He shakes his head. "Don't think about that."
"Outside a war is raging, Bellamy. I can't just not think about it."
"Everything's on fire, that doesn't mean it has to have anything to do with us."
She looks about to protest but he meets her eyes and the words die on her lips.
"There isn't really much of a plan," he admits after a while of silence. "The two people who were going to get you killed are gone, that was most of it. Down here I can keep you away from our people and the Grounders."
"Raven was right. Kane is going to hate me."
He shakes his head vehemently.
"He'll see I had to do it. Your mom will make him see that." He considers for a moment. "Come morning light, everything will be ok, Clarke. You'll be alright."
She smiles. "You're not normally the optimistic one."
He shrugs this off, continuing: "Maybe you make a play for Commander."
Her eyes are full of astonishment.
"I can't do that, Bellamy."
He catches her wrist. "You'd be safe."
She doesn't say anything, slipping her arm from his hold and sitting on the bed in front of him. She takes his hand, flipping it over, and for the first time he realises that he has a burn mark there.
She looks displeased then begins to treat it.
"You almost got yourself killed in that explosion."
He smiles. "That seems to be a basic part of the job."
She isn't happy with that either, but doesn't say anything about it. He's always going to protect her, no matter the physical cost. Maybe she finally understands that.
"Is your leg ok?"
"Fine," he shrugs.
She doesn't pay attention to that, likely aware of how much of a lie it is, patting things onto his burn before getting out a bandage.
She works for a long while, cleaning him up, in silence. Then eventually she speaks.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly, and he feels perplexed. She doesn't meet his eyes. "For giving up. You're right. People need me."
She looks up, then, and he tries to hide the I need you in his eyes but he can tell she sees it.
"I'm sorry too." He lets out a breath at her mystified expression. "I know you and Lexa – "
"Lexa was ready for both of us to die," she shakes her head. "She wouldn't admit it, not even to herself, but I knew it." Her gaze intensifies. "You saved me. Thank you."
"Thank you."
She looks at him questioningly and he inclines his head.
"For trusting me."
She looks like she wants to say something but she buries it again, moving forward and leaning up so she can get to his face.
Immediately he pulls away.
"If you want a shower, there should still be enough water for one."
She shakes her head. "Maybe later."
"Then you should get some rest."
"There's still debris in your face."
"Battle scars," he tries making a joke of it.
He feels her eyes on him as he stands and begins cleaning up everything she used and putting the med kit away. He pulls back the blankets then stands aside.
She looks at him for another second then sighs abd begins taking off her boots. She takes off her jacket too and he moves away so she can lie down.
He looks at her, settling beneath the blankets, and thinks about how someone so small and vulnerable-looking can be so important to his life.
Clearing his throat, he picks up his shirt then heads for the door.
"I'll stand guard."
"Bellamy," she calls him back.
He hesitates before turning.
"Don't leave me here alone."
Even though she's already only on one side of the bed, she shifts further away from the middle to make space, making her meaning clear.
He hesitates, swallowing.
She's holding his eyes, though, so he obligingly takes the two steps back to the bed.
He's still trying to figure out some excuse for not doing this – what if he falls asleep and someone attacks? – as he pulls off his boots. But nothing is good enough to say aloud and so he can't quite believe it but he climbs onto the bed to lie beside her.
She's staring at him and he's wondering if he's supposed to say something when her eyes shut, the smallest ghost of a smile on her lips.
He fights off the strangest instinct to touch her.
It's just that he's never been this close to her before. The bed only just about fits two people so he would barely have to reach out to know what her skin feels like against his palm.
Just a brush over her cheekbone; a thumb on her lips. He has the oddest curiosity about her skin; what it would feel like on his.
He falls asleep thinking about it.
all that's dead and gone and passed tonight
Clarke is touching him.
That's the first thing that registers as he begins to wake. The second is the same thing, only louder, and his eyes pop open to make sense of what he's feeling.
But his eyes tell him the same thing: Clarke's hand drags over his, then lifts, so her fingers can walk over the back of his hand. She pokes her fingers between his then intimately passes her thumb over each of his fingers.
It sends a shiver through him.
"What's wrong?" His voice is gruffer even than when he usually wakes up, he's so surprised.
He's worried. They've only been sleeping for a few hours, he can tell.
And yet… slowly his brain begins to make sense of more.
Like how they definitely hadn't gone to sleep like this. They'd been facing each other and now her back is against his chest, his arm securely around her body. He's half beneath the blankets and half obsessed with the weight and heat of her body against his.
She's in his arms, he realises with a jolt. And she's awake. And she hasn't moved.
"Nothing," she answers with a content little breath.
"You should sleep," he counters.
She sighs. She hasn't stopped touching him, her fingers brushing over his knuckles.
"I can't."
He opens his mouth to speak but she gets to it first.
"Bellamy."
A chill runs through him at the way he says her name. He can tell she means it. The problem is he doesn't know what she means yet.
"How long are we going to keep dancing around it?"
He swallows, fighting it off. He can't go there with her, it's too risky.
"You said you were tired."
"Of acting," she clarifies. "Of fighting. Of making decisions I don't want to make and not getting a chance at what I want to have."
He notices a patch of skin by her neck. She's in only a tank top so it's not the only bare stretch of her skin by far. He notices it because he feels a pressing desire to put his lips there. All he would have to do would be duck his head lower.
"Not being able to love someone I want to let myself love," she continues and he freezes up. "I'm tired of not being me, Bellamy."
He makes a short shushing noise but he doesn't know if it's for her or the white noise in his mind.
"Just close your eyes," he tries saying calmingly, but his voice isn't really made for it.
Just like him, he guesses. He's all rough around the edges; too much so. He hurts; he's abrasive. He's a knight. He can save the princess, if he tries hard enough, but he doesn't get to keep her. She's meant for bigger and better things.
"I've been trying," she says softly, her thumb and pointer moving to feel his index finger. "But every time I do, all I can think about is you."
It becomes so hard to breathe that his chest hurts and on instinct he ducks closer, stopping just before her skin.
"Clarke – "
"Bellamy."
And the way she says it, with nothing more, like she just wants to say his name, breaks him.
He kisses her neck and god, her skin is soft. Just like he imagined, only warmer and real. She lets out a little breath that he hears as if it's a trumpet then feels her hand wrap into his hair.
His eyes close at how good it feels and how she's encouraging him, subtly pulling him closer.
It's like every time he's dreamed on Earth.
Then he pulls away, because, just like in his dreams, it's too good to be true.
"This isn't about us. You're grieving."
He has experience with that. Raven, seeking out his tent to deal with her loss.
Bellamy shifts backwards but he can't escape her, she turns onto her back so she's looking up at him.
"Lexa… being with her helped me hate myself. You're…"
She trails off and he resists the urge to ask her to finish.
Clarke reaches out and pulls a curl out of his face, just like he did to her not that long ago.
"If it's too soon for you, I get it." There's so much empathy in her eyes he can't look away. "Lexa told me about Gina."
He doesn't say anything, managing to look away, but she keeps stroking his hair.
"Tell me about her."
He stutters into an answer.
"She was there when I needed someone. She took care of me; helped ground me in who I am."
"Did you love her?"
Why does she always manage to cut right through it all and down to the base of who he is?
"I cared about her, a lot," he nods.
She nods too, slowly, and he's so scared of what she's going to ask next because he knows. He knows her.
"Were you in love with her?"
He wants to move away; get up and leave so he won't have to admit to the truth. But he won't run away, not when for once, she's staying.
So he meets her eyes dead on, meets the pools of blue that give him peace.
"I'm in love with you, Clarke."
She lets out a quick breath then smiles like he hasn't seen her smile in too long. She's so utterly beautiful that he takes a moment to catch his breath.
Her hand whispers over the hurt part of his face then smooths down over his shoulder and still further down. He hisses at her touching his bare skin and his eyes close when her other hand goes to his chest as the first trails down his bicep.
"When I think about the future; finally getting real, lasting peace," she starts thoughtfully, revealingly, "I always see myself with you."
His eyes snap open and she meets them sincerely.
"But I don't want to wait anymore."
His eyes search hers wildly and it's like she knows what he's wondering; knows what he needs.
She feels what he does, that's how they work.
"Being with Lexa helped me hate myself," she repeats. "You're what I dream about."
His thoughts go haywire, every single one filled with utter shock and amazement that she could feel the way he does. That she has for longer than he ever could've imagined.
But then she kisses him and he stops thinking altogether.
She'd leaned up, and he kisses her back so hard that she's lying flat against the mattress again and he covers her body with his, his hands going to hold her.
They circle her waist then dart behind her back so there's nothing in between them when he pushes in close. She makes a little noise that makes his heart stutter and then she licks at his lips.
He parts them, mostly in surprise. He still can't believe this is real. Clarke is kissing him. Clarke wants him. Not just tonight or right now, but in her future.
They moan at the taste of each other, at their tongues tangling, and she pushes forward till they're sitting up and he's gripping her hair as she wraps her legs around him.
Then they're falling again, with his hand behind her back, and he marvels at her fingers in the thick curls of his hair as she pulls him even closer.
The kiss is so hot he can barely breathe, and combined with the heat between their bodies, he's so far gone.
"Bellamy," she pants out and his kisses go to her jaw and her neck and down her chest.
His hands move her top up so he's feeling the creamy expanse of her stomach and she's arching into him with little breathy sounds that are driving him crazy.
She pulls him back to her lips roughly and he smirks into the kiss. Her one hand drags down his spine, right down to his lower back, and it hits his belt with a displeased little sound from her.
He pulls away and she tucks her lip into her mouth.
"You know, I think I figured out a way that water will be enough for both of us to have a shower."
He chuckles and she smiles up at him, caressing his face.
"Your exceptional planning abilities are what make you such a good leader."
She laughs.
"Just like the old days, then? I plan, you execute."
He smiles, leaning down to lay a tender kiss at her lips.
"Yes, ma'am."
Laughingly she lengthens the kiss and he moans into it before managing to pull away.
He feels her gaze linger on him as he climbs off and makes his way to the tiny bathroom. He turns on the shower, waiting for the water to get hot thanks to the solar panels he and Monty had hooked up to the trailer, then pulls the curtain closed and makes his way back to her.
She's busy wiggling out of her pants and his breath catches at seeing her in only her bra and at all the bare skin at her hips.
Then he stops looking at everything he hasn't seen yet; stops, for a moment, thinking about how he's the luckiest man alive because he gets to touch and explore those places.
He looks at her, really stares at her, with the kind of relief and gratitude he wasn't aware he was capable of.
Clarke, safe. Clarke, his. Clarke free, for even just for tonight, from what the Ground has been trying to turn her into.
Together, they both are.