"Looking through the Cracks"
Clarke woke up with a jolt, her skin crawling, coated in cold sweat, her clothes sticking unpleasantly to her body, the salty sweat making her eyes water. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she felt dizzy and she could feel the familiar feel of nausea climbing up her throat. She knew she needed to get out of the make-shift tent immediately.
She stumbled out the "door" and started running towards the fence, her muscles burning and her bruised skin screaming, with the angry gashes and cuts littering her body re-opening at the sudden rash movement. Once she reached the outskirts of the camp, she fell to her knees and instantly emptied the contents of her stomach until there was nothing else left to throw up. The reflex didn't stop and she curled into a ball on the ground, trying to calm her upset stomach and the muscle spasms that rocked her body. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the images of her nightmare replay in her mind, which she now knew was to blame for her current state.
Her shoulders shook and she realized that it was a full-blown panic attack setting in, which was undoubtedly triggered by the nightmare she had: future that was awaiting her friends in the hands of the blood-thirsty (no pun intended) people that seemed to have forgotten what it means to be human. People who enslaved and bled hundreds, maybe thousands of people for their own benefit. She knew that the same fate was to befall her people. And her being here alone, without anyone understanding the actual weight of the situation just enforced the fear and the sense of helplessness that engulfed her, making her fall deeper into the pit of darkness that has been lurking at the back of her mind ever since losing her father. Violent sobs rocked her body and she fisted her hands into her hair, covering her ears to silence the non-existant screams of her people, which were echoed by the very real Grounders' dying moans that she was surrounded by in the Reaper wagons during her escape. Leaving them to die just to save herself and Anya.
Fuck.
If only she was stronger.
She couldn't breathe and the images of her people falling at the hands of the Grounders during the battle for the Dropship, the screams of people dying in the Ring of Fire she ordered to be set off, thinking that some of those screams belonged to Finn and Bellamy at that moment, Anya's blood on her hands, and finally the blue sad eyes of her father as he was swallowed by the cold vacuum of space. She felt the darkness slowly envelop her. But then suddenly she felt a strong grip on her shoulders, somebody shaking her eyes open, shouting her name that was reaching her through the hell blazing in her mind. Her eyes fluttered open and after aimlessly wandering around, she felt someone force her jaw in the direction of the voice calling out to her, her eyes focusing on the deep brown depths framed by black curls and freckles strewn across a tall nose.
Bellamy.
He was alive, not burned to ashes by her hand, and he was mouthing something. Her name…the voice reaching her and pulling her from the Inferno belonged to him. The screams in her head slowly pulled away, leaving the hoarse voice and the hard brown eyes that were so uncharacteristically glazed over with worry and what resembled fear, the only thing filling the dark night.
"Clarke! Can you hear me?!Clarke, calm down, you're alright!"
Bellamy's voice was harsh as always, but this time there was a touch of worry and anxiety in it. Clarke's unfocused gaze settled on his lips. "You are alright" they mouthed. His dark orbs held so much intensity that it felt like she was being pulled out of the abyss just by the gravity of it alone. "Breathe" she read from them, the sound of his voice still muffled by the ringing in her ears, but she simply couldn't follow his words. It was like she forgot how. And the panic in her eyes made Bellamy understand what was happening. He pulled her to a sitting position and then tugged her arms to have her fall into him, embracing her tightly. He was rubbing his hands up and down her back and repeating the words "Breathe in, Breathe out" into her ear as he put her hands on his chest, letting her feel the actual rhythm of his own breathing. The mixture of his breath on her neck and feeling his body rise and fall rhythmically somehow triggered her own body into following, her breaths coming out short and strained, but gradually falling into pace with his.
Bellamy was still repeating the words "Breathe, that's right, that's good" in his low voice and any other day, his bossy harsh voice that barked out orders or mocked others would set her blood on fire and put in her in fight mode, but she now was very aware how distinct and unique that low baritone was. It was so different that she could always recognize it in a crowd, and that must have why it managed to reach her in the depths of the panic induced darkness. "That's good Clarke, just breathe, you are alright" his voice wouldn't stop, getting lower and lower, down to almost a gentle whisper against her ear. Clarke felt her senses come back slowly, the warmth of his body seeping into her bones, the paralyzing cold and fear slowly leaving her. Her breathing stabilized and she was suddenly very aware that she was gripping tightly onto Bellamy's shirt, seeing her fists almost white with the soft blue material in her hands, pulling it down and displaying Bellamy's broad chest. The heat radiating from his body and his breath on her ear combined with the soothing voice, she almost thought this was still a dream, but a very different kind of one.
"I..." Her voice came out croaky, breathless and she tried to move her head to face Bellamy. As she tried to pull away, she found out that one of his hands was keeping her in place by gripping her hip, while the other was drawing soothing circles on her back. She felt a blush spread across her face at how a sudden flash of heat started settling in her stomach at the intimate way they were tangled in each other. And it was even more embarrassing because this was Bellamy, the leader, the supposedly cold-hearted asshole to whom only she and Octavia knew a different, deeper, sensitive side. But their co-leadership dynamic was always very fragile, consisting mostly of heated arguments about the course of action their people should take, with short truces and moments of actually tolerating each other's company strewn in between.
But this…. Being physically close to each other, to actually be touching him, have him touch her was a first and this must have been the reason why his touch felt like fire. It had to be the fact that she was not used to it, that must be why it felt this way.
Not because it was electrifying, soothing and addictive.
No way. No.
"I….am alright" she echoed his words, turning to face him, her eyes still a little foggy with the remnants of the attack, and desperately trying to suppress the blush caused by the feeling of his strong large hand griping her hip with considerable strength, probably to stop her from collapsing or thrashing during the fits of the panic attack, but it now kindled very different emotions within her and there was no way she could admit that to herself. She turned her head towards him, which made Bellamy to pull away from her ear and look down at her glassy blue eyes, his brow furrowed, looking for signs of any irregularities, trying to make sure she snapped out of it. He noticed the pink tinge on her cheeks, brushing it off to shock, and slowly asked "Clarke, can you hear me?" his question being answered when Clarke lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze, nodding and clearing her throat, looking down immediately, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. "I'm… uh, yeah… I can hear you, it's over I think" no need for her to explain what it was. "Thank you" she mumbled softly, darting her eyes at him, embarrassed by the weakness she showed, Bellamy being the last person she wanted to look weak in front of. "Good" his answer was a low growl, but his eyes were still on her, and she knew he didn't believe her.
Bellamy was always the one that somehow saw through her, saw who she really was and it freaked her out. But then again, she was the only person he opened up to about his own demons back then, the night the two of them were attacked by Dax. It was the most genuine and vulnerable she has seen him and ever since then she saw Bellamy for who he was. Well, most of the time, the man was an enigma, full of secrets and walls built so thickly around him, it was just the occasional crack in it that allowed her to glimpse at the true him. Maybe the same could be said for her, and that's how he was looking at her right now, staring through one of those cracks straight into her soul. She felt a silent tear roll down her face, she didn't even realize it was happening.
"I…. I had a panic attack induced by a nightmare I think" she slowly started explaining, the doctor in-training in her trying to make her sound colder and more composed than the broken fear-struck being she was feeling inside.
"Our people Bellamy, the cages and Grounders' lifeless bodies in the Reaper wagons, it was all there again and god, it will happen if we don't do anything and-" She didn't finish because Bellamy's hands were on both side of her face, forcing her to meet his eyes again, and she understood she was getting worked up again.
"Look at me. You are safe. Nothing to fear here. And I will get our friends. Nothing will happen to them, I will make sure of it personally" his steady voice and that intensity in his eyes brought her back and she slowly repeated his words
"We will make sure of it". She saw the corners of Bellamy's mouth turn upwards into the smirk that became the Blake siblings' trademark. He let go of her face slowly, his long fingers slowly dragging across her cheekbone.
"That's more like it" he grunted, convinced she was back to her old self. She offered him a weak smile and a nod in response as she dropped her gaze to the floor, breathing in deeply and breathing out, shaking her head to get rid of the last fleeting memories of the attack. Bellamy slowly retracted his hand that he almost forgot was on her back, surprised at how natural it felt, shutting the thought immediately. He chuckled, his smirk widening into a grin as he realized that Clarke still had her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer to her. "You know we don't have much clothes to choose from in here Princess, and this is my favorite shirt" he teased her, his brows raised and a glint in his dark eyes making Clarke's blush spread all the way down to her neck and peaking breasts, visible slightly from her tank top. She quickly let go of Bellamy's shirt, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment, pulling away as if she was burned. Bellamy chuckled at her reaction and winked at her, making her face even redder than it was, finding it adorable and again pushing the thought away immediately. Clarke let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to look at Bellamy, straightening his shirt, hiding the patch of naked skin of his chest from her eyes, which was probably for the best. She mentally cursed as she realized that her hands were already missing the warmth she felt a moment ago. She saw Bellamy stand up and turn to leave, the smartass grin still on his face.
"Bellamy" Clarke called out. He stopped and turned around to face her. "You…" she swallowed hard. " Just…Thank you " she managed, her eyes facing the ground, guilt and embarrassment visible on her face.
"It's alright." Bellamy looked at her bruised face, her puffy eyes and the tear still on her face, for the first time realizing that Clarke went through more horror than he had, ever since they landed on Earth. She was abducted and tortured by Grounders, fought her way out of and fought Anya, was shot at by their own people and now she had a panic attack because she was too afraid to lose their people, and not because of pity at herself.
Fuck.
He felt weak for not being able to guard her or his baby sister from all this shit. His face grew stony and Clarke could tell that his walls were back up. "I will save them Princess" he said, his eyes burning with conviction, as if this was an oath, his only way to redemption. Clarke nodded in agreement, her eyes showing some of that fire that was always there, her lips pulled into a tight line. "You will not be alone" she said, as he turned to leave back to his tent.
Clarke slowly pulled herself to her feet, looking at Bellamy's retreating form, still feeling the embarrassment and cursing her weakness in front of him. She was thankful that he did not probe her for details about the panic attack because she was not ready to open up about that to anyone, let alone the brooding King of the 100. Neither did he mock her for the moment of weakness, for losing sanity in the face of their biggest challenge yet. Not berating her or thinking less of her, hopefully.
And yet, she could not help the blush that crept up her face for the hundredth time this evening at the memory of his hands on her face, her back, her hip, his hot breath that triggered her own, and the warmth that his body radiated as she clutched at his chest, him soothing her, bringing her back to reality. She was surprised at the gentleness he showed tonight, she always imagined him being brash and rough with women because that was his nature. Bellamy was raw, angry and cold, his own walls being his way of protecting himself and his sister. But maybe she did not see through all of the cracks yet.
Wait.
How did he know how to deal with a panic attack?
She made a mental note to ask him that later.
She felt drained and her body was in pain after the spasms but her mind was too awake and frankly speaking, too afraid to go back to sleep, so she stayed at the camp fire, giving some of the guards well deserved shut eye. Her mind was running calculations of possible ways to save their friends and making notes of parts she needed Bellamy's opinion on. She dozed off around dawn, not realizing that the memory of those brown depths and warm hands that made her feel safe lulled her to sleep.
She was alright.
They were alright.
They will save their friends.