CHAPTER ONE
"Clarke!" the voice snapped her out of her trance. She had been gazing out the window in the direction of a young girl, probably no older than eight or nine. The idea of what such a young child must have done to deserve such a fate pierced through her as she turned to answer the call of her name.
She was faced with a long tan face, freckles sprawled against the bridge of his nose and cheeks, made darker by the sunlight of their first summer on the ground. When they had first landed, Bellamy and her had been nothing but adversaries. But over time, that had changed, they had become friends, or something close to it, they could confide in each other, they trusted each other.
Dark brown eyes peeked at her from below a shaggy mane of inky curls, and then looked into the distance where she had been staring. He looked at her questioningly but apparently decided against asking her what she was staring at, he spoke, "Have we heard from the Ark?" Clarke had been in the infirmary counting medical supplies and waiting nervously by the radio, their only contact with the others still up in her old home. She hoped nobody had noticed how eagerly she had volunteered herself for the job of listening for contact, or else, if they had, had just chalked it up to her leadership mentality and not what it honestly was.
She frowned, "No, not yet. But Raven has been sending a signal on a loop since this morning. They will hear us." She meant it to be reassuring but she knew that Bellamy, unlike herself, was privately hoping that the Ark would never get their message and assume nobody had survived their landing. She made a mental reminder to ask him why, soon, maybe over a drink. But in the meantime she couldn't have any negative energy going toward what she had been praying over all morning. Hear us. Hear us. Come down. We're alive. Hear us.
Bellamy curtly nodded and turned to leave, hunching over as to not hit his head on the low-hanging door way of her cabin on his way out. Once he had left Clarke released a breath she must have been holding their entire exchange and glanced quickly at the radio to see that it's red light was still blinking, then back out the window again, the little girl in the field had gone, but the one on her mind stayed ever present.
That night as the delinquents sat around an enormous fire (or an enormous waste of resources, as Bellamy had so sternly put it) Clarke sat on a stump, far enough from the fire to still feel it's warm glow, but not so close that somebody might venture to pull her in to their drinking game of Never have I ever. It was apparently Octavia's turn as she stood up on her chair, wobbling uneasily from the sheer volume of moonshine she had consumed so far that night. Clarke watched with intrigue as she wondered what exactly Octavia was going to say she had never done. Everyone knew Octavia was the baby under the floor. Everyone had heard about her when she had been found at sixteen years old. Never having ever left their room let alone anything else, Octavia wouldn't have been able to lay claim to achieving much of anything before they had landed on the ground three weeks ago, but she had seen Octavia running around with girls gossiping and giggling, sneaking away late at night out of her tent, making friends, becoming somebody. Octavia spoke, raising her glass like a toast and waved her hips around as she declared "Never – have – I – EVER" she stopped to ponder "SEEN HARPER NAKED". A few girls who Clarke recognized as Harper's friends from the Ark and two different boys all toasted their drinks and shot the liquor back as everyone else erupted into laughter, Harper's face glowing bright red as she laughed along "Hey that cannot be true! No way this many.." She was cut off by even more laughter. The gauntlet was passed to Jasper, next. She watched amused as Jasper drunkenly spouted "Never have I ever… Been in solitary." She watched as Octavia tipped her cup back. Clarke out a heavy sigh and downed the rest of her moonshine too, as she stood up to walk away before memories of the Ark came flooding back. She walked away from the light of the fire and stumbled meekly toward the direction of the Infirmary cabin, it had been about an hour since she checked the radio and her gut pulled her back. That was enough fun for one night.
She kicked pebbles away as she walked, wavering along until she felt a presence behind her, and suddenly heard him speak, "Is that true? Were you in solitary?" Her eyes final focused on the figure in front of her now, and saw those same intense eyes as earlier. She gave him a light shrug and continued walking; he fell in step beside her with ease. "For what?" he pressed. Maybe it was the buzz of the alcohol in her system, maybe it was the reminder of what she had left behind on the Ark, but she felt a fire rage within her. "What the fuck is it to you?" Bellamy scoffed at that, and placed his hand on his hip, looking down at her condescendingly, "Oh what, a simple janitor from the ghetto couldn't possibly understand your expensive, hoity-toity problems? What even constitutes a crime up there, did you wear white after labor day?" He laughed darkly at her, and before she could stop herself, she had shoved him against the wall to her cabin. "You have no idea the crime and the punishment I have witnessed firsthand. Things that put a girl under the floorboards to shame, Blake, now back off before you learn more than you ever wanted to know." She realized she had her body fully pressed against his and when she met his eyes again where she expected to find rage, she saw something else, was it hunger? She didn't have time to find out, exactly, because with his next breath his mouth was on hers. One hand placed firmly on the back of her neck and the other on her hip. He turned her, placing her back up against the cabin where he had just been. He pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed it to the shell of her ear, "Why don't you make me, Griffin?" She growled conscious of too many things at once. Aware of his growing erection pressed against her hip, aware of his heart beating a tattoo against his neck, but also, aware of the blinking red light in her peripheral vision in the window next to her head. "Inside" she muttered against his hair as he was sucking on the skin of her neck.
Clarke led the way, into the silent room, no contact yet, she thought quickly before Bellamy pushed her strongly down onto the cot she had made up for herself in the infirmary. She spent most of her time there and frequently would just crash there after a long day. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched him standing in front of her chastely unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his long tan legs. He rid himself of his shirt and was on her in a blur. Maybe it was the moonshine that made everything feel like it was in fast motion, but before she could remember to dim the lights and turn herself over before things could progress any further, as she usually did when she had someone in close quarters like this, Bellamy was pulling her shirt up. And just as she feared, he stared down at her abdomen. A look that was a cross between concern and disgust crossed his face. Clarke let out a heavy sigh. In her time down on the ground, she had made up for lost time where physicality was concerned. Not seeing a human face, let alone being touched in over a year made her hungry for it when she landed, and knowing she had to be careful, had developed a routine, and had lies in place in case anyone had accidentally seen. But so far they hadn't, and it appears she wasn't as ready for this as she thought. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to meet his, she pulled her shirt back down over her stomach and began to stand and walk away, she could sleep inside tonight. Bellamy sat on the edge of the bed, "Where are you going?" Clarke didn't have the energy for this, she picked the radio off the window sill, "to bed." She replied. "This is your bed, Clarke, and you don't have to leave, did I do something wrong?" Clarke rolled her eyes, what, he was just going to pretend he hadn't seen anything. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had been able to push all of this aside. Focus on what's important. This was a stupid mistake. Bellamy grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him, to where she was standing between his knees. He pushed her shirt up again, revealing a long purple scar across her middle. Jagged and angry, stretching like a sinister grin beneath her navel. He traced hi finger across it's raised edge, "Look, you don't have to explain this to me. I didn't grow up on Alpha, Clarke. I know what this means. But it's none of my business. If you want this" he motioned between them, "to stop. It stops here. We have both had too much to drink. But I don't.. look at me Clarke." He grabbed her gaze with her eyes, where tears had gathered, "But, I don't want you to think this means anything, that it means I think differently of you. Think of where I came from. I grew up with my sister living in my floor, you don't think I know there was another option? Maybe, even, a better option, I love my sister, you know that, but-" Clarke stopped him there, putting her hand up and shaking her head slowly, "Bellamy, you don't understand… this," she placed her hand over her scarred belly, "It doesn't mean what you think it does… She.." Bellamy's eyes widened, "She's up there, Bell. She's alive." –