A/N the First: And now we switch to Clarke's POV. There are six chapters, alternating between the two of them (two chapters to a set, really). Thank you to everybody who's read, favorited, and reviewed! You guys are swell!


Make It Through the Winter
The Shuffle

The excitement running through the camp over the celebrated thaw deflated the next morning when they woke up to find a new coat of snow on the ground. Clarke could understand that, since she herself spent a good five minutes inside the infirmary that morning, glaring out into the world beyond like that would change anything. Her head throbbed even harder than the time she'd gone over a waterfall and Anya had lovingly beaten the shit out of her.

"No more alcohol for a long, long time," she told Raven, who'd come in to get a burn on her forearm patched up. "I mean that."

Raven shook her head. "So you don't want any of this?" she asked, pulling out a flask.

The smell alone made Clarke moan and race for the door. She made it outside this time.

"Gonna take that as a no," Raven said when she came back in, wiping at her mouth. The flask was tucked safely away. "Your eyes are more red than blue, just so you know."

"I hate everything."

"Day one of being Mrs. Blake, and life is going so well for you, I see."

Clarke squinted viciously at her with those same bloodshot eyes. "I didn't take his name," she said, her voice stiff.

"Probably for the best. Clarke Blake? Not that great a name."

"Ugh," Clarke said. She finished mixing the burn paste and jerked her head for Raven to hold out her arm. The angry red mark stretched from the inside of Raven's elbow, almost halfway to her wrist. Clarke had to figure the severity of it was the only reason Raven had bothered to come to the infirmary. It must have hurt like nothing else, but Raven didn't even flinch.

Having spinal surgery done without anesthesia probably tended to put things in perspective.

"I have to ask," Raven said. "I just have to. How's the sex?"

Only practice and a steady hand kept Clarke from jabbing her. "Off the charts," she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

They hadn't had sex. That much she was sure of, even if she had woken up, hungover and confused, in quarters that weren't her own, tucked into a full-sized bed with the wrap from her wedding pulled taut around her. There had been a cup of water on the nightstand and some of Bellamy's clothes folded on a chair. The other side of the bed had been disturbed, but her new husband had been nowhere to be found.

Most of the evening was a blank space that Clarke was having a difficult time filling.

"Uh-huh," Raven said. "Just remember, I'm one of the few that knows the truth. At least you guys don't actively hate each other anymore. That marriage would be awkward."

And this one isn't? Clarke wanted to ask. Bellamy had sneaked out at an insanely early hour to avoid awkward pillow talk with her. It rankled more than it should. The marriage wasn't real. He was only her husband in name. But still.

"Yeah," was all Clarke said. "Awkward. Right."

Hours later, after her shift and tracking Raven down to make sure she hadn't gotten oil all over the bandage (she had, but Clarke had come prepared), Clarke checked the hallway that served as the mess hall, hoping to find Bellamy. According to Jasper and Monty, she'd just missed him, so she sat with them and picked at her food as they talked about the final night of the feast. The highlight, of course, was her defiantly chugging both goblets in the face of the shocked Grounders.

"The ones that got knocked out after you, they couldn't top that," Jasper said. "Kind of lame, actually. I think you're everybody's hero."

"As great as that is, I don't think this hangover's worth it."

"You should get Bellamy to give you a neck rub," Jasper said, and Monty and Clarke just looked at him. He shrugged and hunkered down. "You are married to the guy. He's got to be good for something."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Monty said.

"Well, no, I'm not stupid."

After that, she tracked through the rest of the camp. Bellamy wasn't in the guard cabin or on patrol, Octavia hadn't seen him, and neither had anybody hanging out in one of the lounges where the Dropship kids tended to gather. After that, she didn't see much of a choice: she headed back to their quarters.

He wasn't there either.

Clarke sighed and leaned back against the wall across from the bed. Their bed. She'd never actually shared a bed with anybody. Sleepovers with Wells when they were four and able to fit in the same bunk bed didn't count. The one time she'd had sex with Finn, they hadn't exactly slept afterward. Sleeping near others on long trips wasn't the same thing, even if she'd woken up back to back with Jasper once.

This felt wholly different. This was permanent. Bed hair, morning breath, waking up alone with Bellamy every morning.

She was interrupted from her reverie by the door sliding open. She jerked upright (a mistake, with the way her head felt) right as Bellamy stepped in with a canvas sack slung over his shoulder. "Bellamy! Hi."

He tilted his head, squinting. "Hi?"

"I, um…how was your day?"

Bellamy's expression told her that she was acting weird, but Clarke couldn't seem to stop herself. "It was fine," he said, pulling the door closed behind him. "Had an early shift, and I figured I should clear out of my old bunk and let somebody else have the space. How's your head?"

"My head? Oh, it's—well, it still hurts, actually."

"Sorry. I tried to get you to drink water, but you were more interested in doing something called the Electric Slide with Raven and the others—even if you all had to sing it yourself."

"Oh, my god," Clarke said, as the night before was kind of a blur. She remembered the wedding, the all-encompassing strangeness of it, but after that first dance/game with all of the other couples, everything went a bit fuzzy. No wonder Raven had seemed particularly friendly today, if they'd bonded over the Electric Slide. "Did I really?"

"You taught fifteen Grounders how to do it and possibly immortalized it as a new Grounder dance. I think you're okay. Hey, Clarke?"

Clarke dropped her hand away from her face. "Yeah?"

He pointed over her shoulder, at the chest of drawers behind her. "I kind of need to get over there."

"Oh! Sorry. Uh—" The space between the end of the bed and the wall was barely wide enough for one people to squeeze through. Flustered and not enjoying the feeling, Clarke tried to step out of the way, right as Bellamy stepped in the same direction. What followed was both of them accidentally mimicking the other's movements in a weird shuffle, with Clarke apologizing repeatedly.

Until Bellamy reached out, grabbed Clarke's arms, and picked her up, setting her to one side. He squeezed by. "I expected a bigger set of quarters, considering they're squatting on our land," he said, throwing an easy smile over his shoulder like it wasn't awkward as hell. "Though it's always fun to dance with you."

"Who are you and what have you done with Bellamy Blake?" Clarke asked. "I'm starting to feel like you may have been replaced with an imposter."

Bellamy opened the canvas sack and began loading his meager belongings into one of the drawers. His rifle, he placed next to the ceremonial sword from the wedding. He fiddled with the strap for a second, squaring it off so that it wouldn't clutter up the area. "You said I should smile more. I figure if we're going to survive being married to each other, I should listen to you."

"By…smiling," Clarke said, completely mystified. She had no memory of telling Bellamy this, but given that she'd never handled alcohol well, it seemed like something that might come slipping right out. And it was true. She'd thought quite a few times that Bellamy should smile. It made him seem younger, like he wasn't bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it did interesting, handsome things to his face. "That's your plan?"

"What can I say? Your wish is my command, Your Highness." Bellamy toed out of his boots and lined them up with the heels flush to the wall. Station life had been instilled in all of them too strongly for mess. Items unpacked, he sat on the edge of the bed.

"What exactly happened last night?" Clarke asked, blurting the question out. "Besides the, uh, the Electric Slide. How did we get in here? I don't remember at all."

"I'm not surprised, since Miller and I basically had to carry you all the way back to camp." Bellamy pulled off his winter hat so that his hair puffed around his head for a second before it settled into its usual pattern of disarray. "O came with us. She's the one that took your boots and the wrap off, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I wasn't really worried about that." Much. She'd woken up wearing pretty much everything but her outerwear. She was more perturbed by the holes in her memory than the thought that something might have happened. And by the fact that Bellamy wasn't angry: with her, with the situation, with anything. "Sorry, I don't—I don't like not remembering."

"Well," and Bellamy lay down on the bed, propping his hands up behind his head, "we got married because that was the easiest way to stop a war, you took one for the team by chugging my wine so I didn't die horribly of anaphylactic shock. When I insisted on heading back so you could sleep it off, you said no and made fun of my kilt, and you went back inside and made every single male friend of our acquaintance dance with you because, and I'm quoting here, 'this is my wedding and we're all going to enjoy ourselves, dammit.'"

"Oh, god," Clarke said, covering her face with both hands. His words were bringing back the accompanying memories, albeit in blurry detail. "I did, didn't I?"

"You made me dance, too, so I don't think the Grounders suspected anything amiss. Chin up, Princess. You had fun."

"I just had to get drunk to do it," Clarke said, leaving her hands where they were.

"Since you got drunk to save my life, you're still my hero. You don't mind if I take this side, do you?"

"That's fine." She'd never had a side of the bed before.

Bellamy crossed his socked feet over each other. "After dancing with me, and with Raven, Lincoln, Miller, and then me again in that order, you decided you'd had enough and you basically passed out on me. Miller and I carried you back, and your mom brought all your clothes by and you slept right through it. I figured it was best to let you sleep."

"Thanks."

"Speaking of which, I'm going to take a nap. You're welcome to join me, unless you hog the bed the way you did last night."

"I did not," Clarke said, though she suspected otherwise. Once she was out, there was little hope of waking her short of using cymbals. Wells and her parents had always joked about that. "I'm not very good at napping. I'm going to head back to the infirmary and work on getting some more of that medicine made." She had no idea why she was telling him that, as they never compared schedules unless it was important. But it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Suit yourself." Bellamy closed his eyes, his face going slack almost immediately, as he and Octavia were both those annoying people that could fall asleep instantly and pretty much anywhere.

Clarke just shook her head at him and let herself out of their quarters as quietly as she possibly could.

This married thing was going to take some time to get used to.


A/N the Second: I really should make them get some rings or something.