A/N: I'm so glad so many of you liked the story! I'm excited to continue and I hope to have chapter three up in the next week or so. I'm going to try to keep this rated T because it keeps it open to a wider range of readers BUT the rating might change to M depending on what I decide to write later on. This chapter is kind of angsty, I hope you guys like it! Please leave a review if you're feeling nice!

"Morning, princess," said Bellamy, opening the flap of the tent and throwing her a bag of nuts and some dried meat.

"My head," groaned Clarke, sitting up in bed.

"Here," said Bellamy, throwing her a canteen full of water.

Clarke remembered what had happened the night before. Not completely, just glimpses…

"Bellamy!" she exclaimed, "Bellamy, get back in here!"

Bellamy strolled back into the tent and Clarke pulled the fur up to her chin, trying to cover up as much of her body as possible. He took one look at her and the self-satisfied smirk he'd come to wear vanished.

"We don't have to talk about it, princess," he said nearly regretting not going along with her plans.

"What do you mean we don't have to talk about it?" shrilled Clarke, her breathing becoming shallow.

Bellamy shook his head and said, "We didn't sleep together, princess. You were drunk – I didn't want you to hate me."

And with that, he left the tent, letting Clarke ponder everything he'd said.

"I wouldn't hate you," she said, even though he was long gone.

Clarke managed to avoid Bellamy most of the day, amazed that he'd had the self-control to stop her from making a mistake by sleeping with him while she was drunk. He really had changed – if he was telling the truth.

She worked in medical, feeling much more comfortable with her mother spending more time in council meetings than in the medical tent. Clarke had gotten used to working alone.

"Abby told us to go easy on you, she said you'd be pretty unstable after what happened with Finn," said Wick, who had cut himself trying to fix the radio tower.

"I don't know where she got that idea from. I'm fine," said Clarke, just as she finished cleaning and bandaging the cut. "How's Raven?" she asked, immediately wishing she hadn't.

"She'll be okay. You're doing a pretty good job at avoiding her. She's not out to kill you anymore, if that's what you're wondering," he said, looking at his bandaged forearm and getting up to leave.

"Hey, Wick?" said Clarke.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around.

"Don't tell her I asked," she said, starting to put away some of the equipment.

"Got it," he replied before leaving.

The rest of the day was slow, with few injuries, but Clarke enjoyed her time alone. Her mom popped in here and there, but their exchanges were awkward at best.

It was already dark by the time she went to eat. They hadn't brought much game in since the alliance with the grounders, but had managed to trade for plants and some meat.

"That's it?" she asked when she got her ration.

She was sick of rationing. Evidently, Bellamy's sentiments were the same.

"You call this a meal?" he yelled, his fists clenched as he threatened the guard who had stopped him from taking more food.

"Bellamy!" she called. "Pick your battles. Save it for the Mountain Men."

No matter how much she had tried to stick to the ark's philosophy of distribution based on need, her time on Earth had spoiled her. With large groups going out to hunt when they had been living at the drop ship, there had usually been more than enough food to go around.

"I hate it here. I can't drink, I can't fuck, I can't even eat enough," said Bellamy when Clarke joined him at a makeshift table. "I don't know where you got that stuff last night, but I definitely need some."

"You don't need any, Bellamy," she sighed, trying to imagine how much he'd need to get drunk – then imagining him drunk.

It wasn't a pretty picture.

"We've been living by our own rules too long. We got too used to it," replied Clarke, trying to be logical while picking at her measly dinner.

Clarke knew she was lying though her teeth, being just as used to freedom as Bellamy was, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it out loud.

"We don't have to stay here, you know. We could go back to the drop ship – we had it good there," he whispered, leaning in so that no one would hear them.

"We can't leave until we get the rest of our friends out of Mount Weather, you know that. And even then, what would we do? Live like savages again?" she asked, knowing quite well that going back to the drop ship was the only viable option if they didn't want to live at camp Jaha.

"We had a good system, princess, don't deny it. Hell, it worked better than this does!" exclaimed Bellamy, throwing his empty plate on the table.

"Look, we'll go hunt ourselves some food tomorrow, okay?" she said, hoping the hunt would be a better distraction from Finn's death than her failed attempt to plan an attack on Mount Weather.

Bellamy angrily mumbled something as he ate his dinner. Clarke looked around and noticed Raven glaring at her from a table not too far away. She was sitting with Wick, who noticed what was happening, and quickly tapped Raven on the shoulder, trying to get her attention.

"She hates me," sighed Clarke, resting her forehead in her hands.

"She can't hate you. You saved her life, and you saved Finn from suffering at the hands of the grounders. You did the best you could," said Bellamy, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"She can still hate me for it," muttered Clarke, getting up to leave.


Their sleeping arrangement was slightly more awkward after the previous night, but Bellamy obviously did his best to make it seem normal.

"Why aren't you going to bed?" asked Bellamy, who had stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the furs he had brought to camp Jaha.

"I'm not going to sleep," answered Clarke, sitting at the edge of the tent.

"You need to sleep, becoming weak and vulnerable isn't going to help anyone," scoffed Bellamy. "So take off your clothes and come to bed."

Clarke eyed him suspiciously but finally got up to undress.

"Turn around," she said, using her best leader voice.

"What, afraid I'm going to sneak a peek?" scoffed Bellamy. "Don't worry princess," he sighed, "there are some things that are better left a mystery. Besides, do I need to remind you about last night?"

Clarke groaned and looked back at him to make sure he wasn't looking, but threw off her grimy clothes. When she climbed under the furs, Bellamy smirked, knowing he'd won. Exhaustion overtook Clarke, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

Finn was there, just as Lexa had said. He was there to haunt her. His eyes were open, unmoving. He looked at her and whispered "You lied," before stabbing her with a knife.

Clarke screamed and thrashed around in the bed, waking Bellamy.

"Wake up, princess. It's just a nightmare," said Bellamy, holding down her arms, which were threatening to hit him.

Her eyes opened, wild with fear.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," said Bellamy, letting go of her arms and pushing a strand of blond hair out of her face.

"This was why I didn't want to sleep," said Clarke, turning her head to Bellamy.

He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her.

"You're safe now. No one can hurt you while I'm around. I promise," he said, stroking the back of her head.

"She was right… but I couldn't just leave him to suffer," said Clarke, her voice wavering.

"For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice," he said reassuringly, "I don't know what I would have done…" he confessed.

Considering his reckless impulse, he probably would have endangered himself and everyone else at Camp Jaha. He knew he'd never feel the same thing she was feeling, but at least he understood. Raven though – she would never understand. But that's what leaders did – they made the hard decisions based on what was best for everyone, no matter what the cost to themselves.


The next morning, Bellamy grabbed a gun and Clarke took a bow and arrow and they left camp.

"Make sure you're back before dark," called one of the guards, "We don't have people to send to look for you!"

Like we'd need their help, thought Bellamy. They'd survived on their own long enough, they didn't need help from a bunch of inexperienced, self-righteous adults.

They walked in silence for hours, neither Clarke nor Bellamy knowing what to say. The tension between them hadn't been this bad since they had started feuding the first week after the drop ship came down.

By the time they were far enough from all the camps and villages to hunt, it was well past midday. They set about exploring, trying to look for signs of any animals, neither of the as good at tracking as Finn had been.

"I found tracks!" called Bellamy about an hour later.

Clarke jogged up to him.

"Right, well let's not waste any time," she said, moving to follow them.

The quiet of the woods was intense. Rather than distracting her, she was left with her own thoughts. The memory of stabbing Finn came flooding back to her. His blood…

Bellamy nudged her with his gun, snapping her out of her trance. He gestured to the deer standing in a clearing not too far away, drinking from a pond. Clarke nodded in understanding. She pulled the bow off her shoulder and poised to shoot. She nocked and arrow and let go. It hit the deer right in the chest and it tried desperately to run before sinking to the ground.

"Let's take it back to camp," she sighed.

"Why would we do that?" asked Bellamy. "Let's roast it right here."

"You think we're going to eat a whole deer ourselves?" asked Clarke, astonished at his selfishness.

"I'm a hungry man, Clarke," said Bellamy, putting his hands on his hips, his dark eyes boring a hole in her.

Clarke took a step back, half shocked by his determination and half by his tone of voice.

"We eat what we want now and we bring the rest back to camp. Deal?" asked Clarke, determined not to back down.

"Fine."

Clarke set about skinning the deer while Bellamy built a fire. She had welcomed the normality of their bickering, since things had been anything but normal since Finn had died.

By the time they had the deer skinned and the fire built, the sun was low in the sky. Clarke set a chunk on the fire to cook.

A short time later, Clarke noticed a familiar shuffling coming from the distant forest. Birds flew frantically from the trees and then faint crackling ensued.

"Bellamy," she said, her breath catching.

"What?" he snapped, as she had woken him from a nap.

"Acid fog," she said. "We need to run. Now."

Bellamy jumped up and grabbed his gun.

"Help me with the deer!"

"We don't have time, Bellamy! We won't make it back to the drop ship!" yelled Clarke.

Looking over her shoulder, she realized there was no way they would make it back to the drop ship, even without the deer. Their only chance would be the bunker she and Finn had used, which she hoped wasn't too far away from where they were.

"Come on!" she yelled, and took off away from the fog.

She hoped Bellamy had followed. The fog was catching up to them, but Clarke managed to find the bunker just in time.

"This is the place where Finn shot that one-eyed grounder," said Bellamy, climbing down the ladder after shutting the hatch. "The body's gone."

"We came back here and I made him get rid of it," said Clarke quietly, lighting some candles.

"We're going to have to spend the night here, we don't know when that fog is going to clear and it's getting dark," said Bellamy, looking around the small space for anything that could be useful.

"There's nothing here. We already checked for food and supplies. There's nothing more than a few blankets."

"Guess we'll have to share then, princess, it's pretty chilly down here," said Bellamy.

What are you doing? asked a small voice inside his head. He tried his best to ignore it, again.

"I guess so," she said through clenched teeth.

Sometimes he was infuriating. Clarke laid the blankets down on the small bed and then some more on the couch before sitting down at the table with paper and some colored pencils, hoping to pass the time. She forgot where she was as her pencil flew all over the paper, and most of all, she failed to notice that Bellamy had settled on the bed, watching her intently.

Done. She looked at her finished drawing, and realized it was camp. Not camp Jaha but home, with the drop ship and tents before they had fired up the rockets.

"I guess that's a sign we should go home soon, huh?" asked Bellamy, breaking her concentration.

"Have you been watching me this whole time?" asked Clarke, feeling the heat rise to her face.

Bellamy nodded. He wasn't sure when Clarke had become such a fascinating person – I guess it was the minute I found out she wasn't dead, he thought to himself.

"Watching you draw is better than any of those movies we saw up on the Ark, princess. You've really got something," he said.

Clarke rolled her eyes and set the sketchpad on the table.

"You know, I think we should go back after we get our people out of Mount Weather," she said, stifling a yawn.

"You know I'm always right," he joked. "Come on, we'll talk about it later. We've been hunting most of the day," said Bellamy, making space for Clarke on the bed.

Clarke looked fleetingly at him and then at the blankets on the floor before kicking off her boots and jumping into the bed.

"This was where Finn and I…" she said slowly.

He wasn't sure why he was so concerned with her mental well being all of a sudden, and even less sure about when he'd come to worry about her nearly as much as he'd worried about Octavia – maybe even more so.

"I'm so sorry princess. Do you… want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively, looking at her sitting cross-legged on the cramped mattress.

Finally all the anger and pain from the last few days poured out of her as she started to sob.

"Shh," whispered Bellamy as he pulled her into his arms.

She continued to sob into his chest.

"I killed him, Bellamy," she cried.

Hearing her say his name like that felt like being stabbed in the gut. She was in so much pain, and all he wanted to do was stop her from hurting, but he didn't know how.

"I try to tell myself it was to keep him from suffering at the hands of the grounders – but it doesn't change the fact that his blood is on my hands."

"His blood isn't on your hands, it's –"

"Yes, it is! It was on my damn hand when I stabbed him!"

Bellamy fell silent.

"You know what's worse?" asked Clarke, trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks, "I told him I loved him."

Bellamy's heart dropped. You shouldn't care, he told himself.

"But I lied," she said, before finally falling back into his arms.

He stroked her hair as she cried, realizing in full that the man he had been less than two months ago was in the distant past. He'd never admit it, but his heart swelled upon hearing that Clarke wasn't – hadn't been in love with Finn.

"It's going to be okay, Clarke," he said as he tipped her face up so they locked eyes.

There it was. He'd used her name. Not princess, but Clarke. It shifted something inside her. Hearing him say her name changed something.

Instinctively, Bellamy leaned down and kissed her, all of a sudden realizing he had wanted to do it since their reunion after she had escaped Mount Weather. He could taste the salt of her tears on her lips and it made him want to kiss all her pain away.

In truth, Clarke had lied to Finn when she'd said she loved him because her heart had moved on to someone else in the short time since her escape. Sure, she and Bellamy had had tension between them ever since the first few days on earth, but she never thought anything would come of those mixed feelings, the line between love and hate feeling awfully thin at times. But Bellamy had been the first person she'd thought of in that sterile room, and the person she'd most hoped was alive, even after knowing what should have happened when the drop ship fired up.

"I – I –" she stuttered, breaking the kiss.

Bellamy pulled away and looked down at his hands.

"Thank god you're not dead," she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

"You waited a while to tell me that," smirked Bellamy.

In a single moment, he'd made her thoughts of Finn disappear. The minute they came back it was worse. She felt like she had betrayed Finn.

You betrayed him when you told him you loved him. When you killed him.

Bellamy leaned down and kissed her again, hungrier this time. His hands started roaming her back and as their kiss deepened, he started to lift her shirt.

"I can't," she said, breaking the kiss. "Not here. Not yet."

"Don't worry, princess, whenever you're ready," answered Bellamy, pulling her into him.

Clarke fell asleep within minutes, and Bellamy was left alone with the voices in his head.

What are you doing Bellamy? Are you really telling a girl you're going to wait until she's ready? What's happened to you? Said a low voice in his head. He dismissed it. He was a different man now.