Chapter 1 – Electricity
Clarke was shaking. Her hands trembled as she held them before her bright blue eyes, which were shining with pooling tears. She stumbled out of the pod, blindly making her way out of camp, bumping into people as her feet blankly took her away from the pain she so desperately needed to leave behind.
Outside of the camp, she braced herself against a tree with one arm and heaved, vomiting up all the words she wished she could have said and all the missed opportunities she was a party to. Clarke sank slowly to the ground, sitting with her back to the tree and put her head in her hands. Breathe, Clarke… She told herself, slowly rocking back and forth unaware she was doing so. You couldn't have done anything. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not – and then a cry escaped her. It broke through her lips without a warning, and the tears started to cascade down her cheeks like a dam breaking. Her rocking intensified as her sobs increased.
They had done everything they could. They had sent up the flares as soon as possible. And yet, they were unable to cease the flow of bodies from the Ark. From the Ground, she was usually able to think of them as distant deaths, unrelated to her, but not now. Instead she could only gasp as she thought about how many of them she knew, which one of her friends had parents who were dropped like dead weight, sacrificing their oxygen so the others could last a few more months. If only I had sent the flares even a minute earlier. She dry heaved again as the thoughts raced through her mind.
Eventually, Clarke regained control of herself. She wiped her eyes with the back of her mud-stained hand. If only we had been able to tell the Ark that we were okay… that the Ground was livable… All those people… She felt the lump in her through returning so she decided to channel her thoughts in a different direction, one of anger. If only Bellamy hadn't thrown away Raven's fucking radio… She grasped the nearest rock and hurled it into the forest, letting out a scream somewhere between anguish and frustration. She cursed Bellamy's name out loud. Then she heard the watch leaving the camp and straightened up. Clarke, the flinty steel back in her eyes, stalked back into camp and directly into Bellamy's tent.
Bellamy was bent over a crate that he doubled as a desk, inspecting bullet casings. His t-shirt was stretched taught against his broad shoulders, and you could see the muscles moving in his back as he brought bullets before his eyes, studying the gunpowder inside. His shaggy black hair had grown noticeably longer as their days on the Ground added up. It hung down to the nape of his neck. The muscles in his arms flexed as he ran his fingers through his hair. Clarke hesitated only a moment before storming over to him.
"Why the fuck did you get rid of Raven's radio you selfish bastard!" Clarke shrieked, startling Bellamy who hadn't noticed her come in. "You… You are responsible for those people. All those innocent people…" She felt the tears returning and shook them away with a flick of her head.
Bellamy whirled around to face her. His eyes were shining, though it was hard to tell whether it was due to his anger back at her or a deeper guilt at what he had done. "I don't remember inviting you into my tent, Princess," he spat back at her. Anger. At least right now, the look in his eyes was definitively anger.
Clarke ignored his comment. "How could you…" she continued. "Egocentric fucking—" she raised her hand to slap him, unable to control the trembling in her fingers as she did so.
Bellamy grabbed her wrist above her head and stepped closer. They were inches apart, face-to-face. "Listen here," he whispered. Clarke was never intimidated by Bellamy, even though most of the rest of the 100 were. But she had never seen him like this. Then again, she had never pushed him this far before. His usually sarcastic and mocking deep voice was quiet. His grip on her arm tightened. "You know what I did to get down here, to get a seat on that drop ship. I don't think it's egocentric to do something to save your own life." He released her arm and shoved it away, stepping back, his eyes still glaring at her.
Clarke took a deep breath before stepping forward directly in front of him again. "I know what you did, but Jaha is alive! And, either way, you are not the only person of importance. You are not the only person up there," she gestured towards the sky. "You are not the only person on the ground." Clarke pushed him in the chest, hard, as she yelled the last words. Her whole body was shaking now, with fury, sadness and a full-body emptiness inside her.
Bellamy stumbled a step backwards at her push, but caught himself quickly. His eyes flashed. He rapidly closed the distance between them, pushing Clarke back until she was against the wall of the tent. Clarke raised her arms to push back, struggling against his hold. After a few moments, Bellamy pinned both of Clarke's arms above her head. "Okay, Princess, you want to fight?" He murmured, his face mere inches from hers.
"Don't call me that," Clarke spat back at him, making futile attempts to break his grip. His hold only tightened.
"Why?" Bellamy smirked. "Is your Spacewalker the only one who can call you Princess, Princess?" Clarke hated him in that moment. She hated him with a passion that burned all the way through her. And yet, her heart was still racing as he moved his face even closer. He was whispering now, "I didn't know Jaha survived. I thought that if the Ark knew the Ground was survivable, they would come down here. Then, I would die. And I'm pretty sure that despite this little display, you wouldn't be so happy if I was gone, now would you, Princess?" His eyes were still gleaming with anger, but there was something else now. "So, I did what I thought I had to in order to save my own life. Now, I know that I fucked up. But there's nothing neither you nor I can do about it. It's not as if your past is squeaky clean. You don't see me breaking into your tent to hit you and fight with you about what's already done, do you?" He was breathing faster now. She was close enough to see every freckle on his face. "So, Princess, if I let you go, are we done with this?" His chest brushed against hers. Clarke felt electricity coursing through her body. Her mouth seemed to have lost its function, so she merely nodded in response.
"Good," Bellamy released her arms, but remained in his spot for a moment more. Clarke kept her arms above her head. Both of them were breathing heavily. Their eyes were locked.
Then Bellamy stepped away. "Now, Princess, if you please, get the fuck out of my tent," he said, almost conversationally, his voice giving away nothing about the situation that had just passed. Clarke took a quick breath, and, mustering all the dignity she had left, walked slowly out of the tent. She shook her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she left, making sure Bellamy saw that she was in no hurry to leave.
When she had gone, Bellamy collapsed on the edge of his bed. His heart was pounding in his chest, and a fine line of sweat had formed on his brow. The anger that had flared up inside of his at Clarke's accusations was slowly ebbing away, but the heat that sparked when he was holding her against the wall, his body touching hers, was still smoldering inside. He put his head in his hands. He knew how badly he had messed up when he ditched the radio in the river. He had wept about it mere hours before Clarke had come. There was a pit in his stomach, for all those lives he had lost, that he was sure he would carry with him for the rest of his days. He was so, unbelievably sorry. He raised his head from his hands, a determined look now in his eyes. He needed to make sure Clarke knew that. When he thought about having another interaction with her, this new spark inside of his burned a little stronger.
